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wheelsup · 3 years

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kissing lessons

summary: one of your classic movie nights with spencer turns into a learning opportunity

A/N: this is really fluffy, but the whole story centers around kissing. use your own judgement! i’d say it’s at worst 16+

category: spencer reid x gn!reader, fluff (with a bit of spice) best friends to lovers (sorta)

warnings: just kissing, a brief implication at the end

word count: 3k

Occasionally, the team will spend an extra night in their hotel before heading home from a case. Be it due to poor weather conditions, or the fact that your case wrapped in the dead of night, the reasons for flying don’t ever matter. Because the majority of the times when you have to stay that extra night, you and Spencer have sleepovers.

The routine is pretty much the same. You’ll stock up on gas station snacks – sour peach rings for Spencer, salted microwave popcorn for you – and reconvene in one of your hotel rooms. Preferably, whichever of you got the better deal that week – a bigger tv, a room further away from the ice machine. And you’d rent the cheapest movie available on-demand, the options spanning from low-budget sci-fi to poorly written rom-coms. That night, the viewing fell under the latter category.

Spencer perched at the foot of your bed with both feet tucked under his legs, criss-cross style, while you laid against the headboard to watch. Every now and then, you tossed out your commentary and he’d ignore it. He always says you’re too critical of movies and you’re of the belief that he’s too forgiving.

“I don’t think they should end up together,” you mumbled, words slurring around your mouthful of popcorn. You pulled a face right as the movie approached the romantic climax, after spending the past ninety minutes actively rooting against the couple. Spencer ignored you, pretending to be engrossed in the movie to spite your disparagement of it. “They both suck.”

You groaned, slumped further against the pillows, and shoved your sock-clad toes under Spencer’s left thigh in a call for attention. He jumped at the intrusion, but ultimately, your efforts were futile.

And then the big kiss commenced, and your booing finally piqued his interest. “Gross! I feel bad for people who kiss like that.”

A small bell went off in his head and he took a curious glance at you over his shoulder.

“What do you mean?” he asked. He stopped chewing and the piece of candy in his mouth pushed out his cheek, giving him an adorably innocent look. His brows scrunched in the middle and his nose had a tiny crinkle in it, utterly confused.

You scoffed and matched his expression. “Are you serious?” You jerked your head in the direction of the television and Spencer whipped his head back, squinting. He couldn’t figure out what you were pointing out, what it was that was so obviously wrong to you. “Spencer, he’s swallowing her chin!”

Oh. He hadn’t noticed.

Feeling dumb, he muttered, “I thought that’s how you’re supposed to kiss…” It wasn’t the deepest confession to admit to you that he lacked some knowledge when it came to kissing, but he still refused to look at you as he said it.

“Spencer, please tell me you haven’t been kissing people like that.” You narrowed your eyes at the back of his head, sitting up straighter in bed. He shrugged and lowered his head, focusing on his snack as his fingers dug into the packet of gummy rings in his lap.

He popped another piece into his mouth, pretending to be occupied with eating so as to avoid your prying. “I dunno.”

It didn’t occur to you until that moment that Spencer might have learned everything he knows about kissing – among other things – solely through watching movies. How else could he look at that and think it’s normal? And you’re left wondering if he’s ever even practiced it with another living human. He clearly didn’t want to talk about it, but unfortunately, that only heightened your interest. You had to know.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” You kept your voice low, your tone implying that you were ready to exchange this secret with him. You wouldn’t judge him if he admitted he hadn’t.

He scoffed loudly, and though you couldn’t see his face, you’re positive he rolled his eyes too. “Yeah, of course.” Then quietly, he added on, “But it was only like… for four seconds.”

You nodded thoughtfully, considering how this new piece of information adjusted your existing view of Spencer. For some reason, you couldn’t tell if you actually expected him to be experienced or not.

He didn’t exactly scream that he’d… gotten around, for lack of better words, but you’re still surprised to learn that he’s barely done it at all. You supposed he was objectively cute, that maybe you could see it if he weren’t your best friend. And yeah, he’s a little awkward, but he’s smart and kind, so he has three great things going for him, and you’re surprised more people haven’t swooped him up yet.

Your lips curled down in thought, brows raised in curiosity. “And was it good?” It was a genuine enough question, because you’ve never really thought about Spencer Reid and kissing in the same sentence before. As it turned out, there was a lot of missing information relating to those two things.

“I don’t know! I didn’t get, like, a feedback form,” he grunted, angling his shoulder even further away from you. If you could’ve seen him, you’d notice his face boiling and turning red with heat. All this inquiring made him think harder about his … talents … than he’s ever had to before, and he’s not a fan.

You were prepared to do some more digging when the slump in his back made you feel a tinge of guilt. It was your fault he looked so defeated. You pressed too hard, disregarding his boundaries just because you wanted to know more. And now, he was wondering if there was something wrong with him, because you wouldn’t leave it alone.

He barely noticed as you swung your feet from under his thigh and rocked onto your knees, leaning forward to nudge his shoulder with your palm. It hauled his attention out of his thoughts and back into the room. You wanted to apologize, but instead you settled with “I’m sure you’re fine, Spence.”

He nodded unconvincingly. By the glow of the screen, you could see he was still gnawing on the inside of his cheek, focusing his eyes as he played with a loose hangnail on one of his fingers. It made you feel even worse. “Are you actually worried about it?” you asked, laden with concern.

“What if I am bad at it?” He whispered, like saying it too loud would make it true. “And that’s why it’s only happened once?”

A large exhale puffed out of your nose as you weighed your options.

You could go back to your original plan and apologize for setting him down this path of doubt. But that wouldn’t do anything to stop him from worrying, anyway. You could tell him there’s no correlation between the way he kisses and how frequently it’s happened; that you’re sure the reason isn’t because he’s bad. But you don’t know that for sure.

So, fuck it, you thought, grabbing a fistful of his pajama shirt and tugging him closer to you roughly, pressing your lips onto his.

This way, you’d at least have an informed opinion to be able to tell him if he was good or bad.

His lips were softer than you expected – not that you’d thought about them often, they’re just impossibly softer than they look – and invitingly warm. But they were completely stiff.

You could tell he was trying to kiss you back by the way his mouth ferociously moved over yours. He was trying to be a passionate, engaged partner, but he forgot about the aspect of tenderness.

His lips felt like two solid objects just sliding around on your face. They didn’t move in any sort of accordance with yours. There was no push and pull, your lips didn’t mesh perfectly together to form a solitary unit as they moved in unison.

It felt more like his lips were your opponent, putting up an attack and defense play against the actions of your own.

You pulled away, resisting a giggle at his bewildered face. “You’re not so terrible,” you swipe the corner of your mouth, smudged with Spencer’s flavored chapstick, “But it could use some work.”

He was at a loss for words, mouth gaping open as his eyes darted around the room and all over you. Maybe he’d find an explanation for what just happened carved into the walls somewhere or written across your forehead.

What happened was that you kissed him. And he was a little bit bad. Simple as that.

“I-I wasn’t ready!” he stammered, chucking up his hands defensively. He’d process the fact that he’d just made out with his best friend at a later time, right now the bigger concern was the slight cringed look on your face. He sulked and folded his arms.“What was so bad about it?”

“Well,” you scratched the back of your ear, trying to gauge if he’d react well to getting some advice, “my first tip would be to relax your lips.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

“And don’t think too hard. You should react to what’s happening in the moment, not worrying about what your next move is gonna be.” You could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to envision what that would play out like in a real situation. “You wanna try again?” you offered, figuring he’d learn much faster if he was more hands-on about it.

He nodded, and you leaned in close, waiting for him to go for it. His heart quickened under the pressure of performance, eyes screwing shut as he closed the gap. His mouth smashed into yours as he dove in hard. It was toeing on the side of too harsh, but you let that one slide in hopes it was just a byproduct of his nerves.

You had to tap his knee to remind him to relax, and he loosened some of the tension he had in his lips. He slotted his between yours, allowing them to be pliable to your movements and remembering to react, not plan.

He moved his mouth leisurely against yours, trying to match your pressure and pacing. They actually started moving in time with yours at some point. The kiss took on a shape of its own as he started getting out of his head, letting himself enjoy the kiss for what it was in that exact moment.

It was already better than before. Leaps and bounds better. But then he tried to deepen it, building on its intensity but adding more… something into it. You couldn’t even tell what it was he was trying to do.

“Okay, second tip…” you inhaled sharply, pushing him off of you with a palm against his chest. Whatever it was, it needed to stop. “You kinda do this thing like… where you’re blowing air into my mouth?” You scrunched your nose, punctuating your dislike. “That feels weird. Don’t do that. If anything, do the opposite.”

“I’m supposed to suck the air out of your mouth?” His face contorted, voice already slightly exasperated. He barely understood what the air thing was that you claimed he did. He didn’t realize in the process of trying to add pressure to the kiss, he was just forcibly blowing against your mouth.

“Not literally, no.” You laughed a little, rubbing your palm in a comforting pattern on his chest.”But you can use your lips to suck on mine, or my tongue… just nothing involving the exchange of breath. We’re not in CPR training.”

He eased up a little with your joke, adjusting to your advice he gave it another try. After a few moments, he latched onto your bottom lip with his own, sucking it softly into his mouth. “Yeah, like that,” you mumbled against him, voice pitching high in encouragement. He sucked on it with a little more greed, holding it for a second, then eased up, varying the pressure of his movements just like you did before.

You made a mental note to praise him for that at a later time, deciding to instead part your lips to see if he’d venture into further experimentation.

He caught on quickly. He parted them further, prodding his tongue against them as you opened to allow him entry. Just as you started to really enjoy it, he ran his tongue over the inside of your mouth, moving it fast and roughly like he was a washing machine.

“Stop,” you grimaced, tearing away quickly. You had to swipe your hand over your mouth to get rid of the excess saliva that really shouldn’t have been an issue in the first place, given how brief the frenching was. “Your tongue is way too aggressive.”

Overwhelmed, he tilted his head to the ceiling and let out a frustrated grunt, slapping his hands down to the top of his thighs.

There were too many factors to worry about. He had no idea how you looked at him with a straight face and told him not to think too much when there were a million things he needed to remember all at once; he needed to vary his moves to keep it interesting, but make sure he’s not ruining the flow by changing things up too much, and to be gentle but not timid.

All of this was second nature to you, but it was brand new to Spencer. Could you really blame him for not getting the hang of it right away? You decided to stop your list of critiques short for this round to spare him. He’d get there eventually, but not if he felt discouraged too soon.

“I don’t see why people like it in the first place,” he huffed, his head returning to it’s normal posture. In Spencer’s eyes, there truly wasn’t any appeal to kissing with tongue; it looked sloppy and unnecessary, and as you’d just confirmed, it actually was.

You thought about his statement for a second. There’s a certain allure to it, and you didn’t know how to describe it to him. So instead you cupped his cheeks in both your palms and slid your mouth over his again. As his jaw slacked its tension, you slowly pushed your tongue past his lips and gently pressed it against his own before swirling them together.

You sighed softly into his mouth, running your fingers through his hair and tugging carefully at the ends. He made a small noise against you, something like a whimper, and you swallowed the vibrations of it. As you retreated, you captured his bottom lip between your teeth and gave it a light, teasing tug. You soothed it again with your lips before releasing it, a proud giggle forming in your chest as Spencer chased after your lips as you broke apart.

“That’s why.” You smirked at the dazed look on his face. His eyelids remained closed longer than necessary, still feeling the ghost of your mouth on his and a tingle where your fingers were in his hair.

“Oh.” His voice came out meek as he slowly came back to reality, brows wrinkling up his forehead as he opened his eyes.

He put both his palms down on the mattress, one laying flat on either side of you, and dove forward to resume the kiss right where you left it. A surprised squeak left you as his mouth collided with yours with an insatiable hunger. You brought one hand back to his hair, and he was a goner.

He unfolded his legs from under himself and shuffled onto his knees, following his hands until he practically crawled into your lap. Each of his legs hooked onto either side of your thighs as he hovered over your lap, leaning his body entirely into yours.

The physics of it didn’t hold up; he’s taller than you are, and his chest was too heavy for you to carry. The balance was off center and it sent you tumbling back onto the mattress, bringing him down with you until his chest laid on yours.

It was the perfect force – the weight of him on top of you. He tasted like peach candy and sour sugar, and you found yourself craving more of it.

You shuffled higher up the mattress, giving him space to stretch out his body as he followed yours. One of his hands found your waist, gripping tightly, while he placed the other on the mattress beside your head, using it to steady himself. Sliding your legs out from under him, you wrapped them on the outside of his hips, using them to pull him closer down to you.

It only broke off in moments when both of you absolutely needed to get air, gasping as you pulled apart for brief reprieve before colliding again. He followed every word of your advice, getting better with each passing second until he exceeded expectations by leaps and bounds.

Your fingers weaved through his hair, passionately tugging the wavy strands to angle him against you and igniting his nerves under your touch. A soft moan leaves him and you’re encouraged to tighten your grip on them. His hips bucked reactively at the sensation, and he quickly pulled back, a slight embarrassment creeping up his cheeks. He got too carried away.

You took in his flushed face and swollen, kiss-bruised lips. They’d turned a shade of red brighter than you’ve ever seen them, and it was all you could do not to dive for them again as his tongue sweeped over them, soothing the burning heat you’d left on them.

Before he could apologize for his eagerness, you nudged your nose against his, your smile skimming against his lips. “So what else don’t you know how to do?”

☆

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chocolateheart · 3 years

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Door number 12

Title: Door Number 12

Word count: 7937 (I know, I'm sorry)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: A noisy neighbour is bringing you a lot of emotions. What if this bubbling tension and frustration will finally find their way out?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex (please, wrap it before you tap it), creampie, fingering, handjob, pinning to the wall, clothes tearing, biting, scratching, a lot of kissing, strong eye contact, sex noises, tension, some swearing, noisy neighbour, arguing, stealing food, property damage, I don't know, porn?

Bingo Square Filled: Neighbour AU for @spnmixedbingo

A/N: Yes, another porn. Please, don't judge me, I couldn't help it. I won't say much, that fic just sorta happened. I hope you'll like it! Enjoy babes!

A/N: As always huge huge huge THANK YOU to my dear beta, angel and Queen @winchest09 for giving this piece a look. Love you Tabbs <3 Still, mistakes are mine!

A/N: The gorgeous divider designed by incredibly talented @talesmaniac89 <3

Throwing your bag on the counter along with your keys, a deep sigh left your chest. You numbly looked around your apartment as you began to take off your jewellery. Why did this place always look like a pigsty every time you got back home? Your necklace and bracelet joined your bag when you tossed them to one side as a yawn escaped you.

This day was exhausting, to say the least. Maybe your work wasn’t that demanding but sometimes it was just tiring to the point where you wanted to cry. After shrugging your jean jacket off, your feet took you to the couch and you just collapsed down on it with a pained grunt. Your body was stiff and aching, your head was pounding from pain and as soon as you felt a pillow under it, your will to stay awake had started to fade. You knew you shouldn’t take a nap now as there was still so much left to do today, but for god's sake, it was Friday evening and you had been working for the past 5 days at top speed. An hour of rest was something you definitely deserved.

Without standing up, you lifted your hips to take off your jeans and wrapped yourself in the blanket you always kept on the couch. Relaxing your body with a deep breath, you closed your eyes, already halfway to dreamland. But as soon as you felt yourself drifting completely, a loud sound of guitar suddenly sounded in your ears, making your eyes snap open.

No, not again!

Fisting the pillow, you felt the anger growing as you knew exactly where the loud rock music was coming from; recognising the band as AC/DC. When the volume increased, you hid your head underneath the pillow, desperate to cut off your aching skull from the noise. But it didn’t work, the sound still bleeding through the cushion. It didn’t take you a minute to shoot up on straight legs and pull on your sweats while marching towards the front door.

Mumbling inappropriate words, you entered the staircase for your building and immediately went down; hearing the power of the music increasing with every step you took. You found yourself on a floor below, with your jaw and hands clenched, eyes glued to door number 12 as you approached it. Once you stood in front of it, you lifted one of your fists and hit the hard on the wood a few times, ready to murder the person on the other side. Of course he made you wait till the song ended, causing you to repeat the punching a couple of times.

When the door finally opened, you were fuming with anger, eyes shooting lightnings towards the tall man on the opposite side of the doorstep.

"I swear to god, Winchester," you hissed through gritted teeth, a loud melody almost muffling your words. "If you won't turn that down, I will physically harm you." Your threatening pulled a laugh from him which only acted as another oil drop to the fire.

"Sweetheart you can't do anything to me," he said, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed on this broad chest. "Besides, I don't understand what your problem is." Dean shrugged as if nothing had happened, making your brows shoot up.

"You don't understand?! This music is driving me crazy!" You took a deep breath and while not breaking the strong eye contact you had with him, you started to enlighten him on what exactly was wrong. "I’ve had a terrible day, no, week actually. Everything hurts, my head is pounding and this music is shaking my walls which in turn, is not letting me sleep. So if you could be so nice and turn that off because I swear on what's holy, if I lose my goddamn mind, your name will be the first one I'm gonna mention once they ask me how I ended up in mental hospital." Words just slipped out of you in one unbreakable line and you took shuddering breath after, composing yourself.

However, the smug smirk didn’t leave your neighbour's face; he didn’t give a damn about your monologue. After you finished, he only put a hand on your shoulder and delivered his response.

"It's a Friday evening and we live in a free country. There’s no rule saying I can't listen to loud music, unless it's lights out. What's more, you're the only one who can't stand this, I don't see anyone else coming here to complain, so maybe the problem lies in you, not in me," he simply said, as he flashed you a fake, sarcastic smile and closed the door. But not before saying, "have a nice evening."

You looked up to the ceiling, asking for patience but the frustration and anger were huge. You growled, kicked Winchester's door with your socked foot and cursed, feeling pain going from your toes to the tibial bone.

On your way back to your apartment, you were mumbling out every possible, offensive name that came to your mind when you thought about that green eyed man. Your relationship had been heated ever since he moved into the building. He made your blood boil. Loud music, meetings with his friends, watching movies on full volume on his surround speakers after dark in the middle of the week, noisily cooking at midnight; even his one night stands apparently had an unfulfilled opera career.

You were having a battle with Dean, on average, twice a week. Knowing you weren’t the only one who couldn’t stand his behavior, you asked others for help, but Dean’s charm was way bigger of an opponent than you had expected. He could just use a sweet smile, say a few, flirty words with this deep voice and Ann from the end of the hall would walk on wobbly legs with stupid smile on her face for the next four days.

You couldn’t really blame her, the man was ridiculously attractive but you were looking past it. Dean was an annoying asshole and the only reason you had not yet clawed out his eyes was the fact that visiting the jail wasn’t exactly a wooing thought.

Shutting your door behind you, you leaned against it and ‘Sweet Child O’ mine’ came on. You growled once again, hit your wooden barricade with your head and looked down, trying to find calmness in your floor. Once you stopped radiating fury, knowing that the person below won't let you rest for at least two more hours, you chose the second drawer in your kitchen, searching for painkillers. If you were being made to stay up, you were gonna be productive. Swallowing two aspirin, you decided to clean the place so you could focus on college work tomorrow.

If only you could actually focus on college work.

After waking up at 8 am the next day, you opened the window on your way to the kitchen, craving coffee. It wasn’t normal for you to get up at this hour on the weekend but your finals were coming and you had way more work than you expected.

Thankfully, the weather outside was pleasant; the sun was already shining, creating morning shadows and the soft wind streamed inside your apartment, tickling your ankles as you sat at the table, eating breakfast. The smell of spring made you smile, always bringing back good memories. After the meal, you didn’t bother to change your pajamas for the actual clothes and you just took the laptop to start working on your college sheets. You were sitting with one of your legs bent, heel leaning on the chair, messy bun on your head, sipping on the second coffee while listening to the birds singing happily outside. Words were flooding out of you, making you feel certain that it wouldn’t take you long to be done with your essays. But that blissful moment was cut short when a loud rumble of a car’s engine resonated under your building, causing you to jerk in your chair and almost spill your drink.

Recognizing it straight away, you looked up, trying your best to not get angry again but as the sound of his loud engine revving l continued, you smacked the table with your palm and stood up. As you leaned on your window sill and gazed out, you spotted black, slick Chevrolet with the driver's door, trunk and hood open. Tools were scattered around the vehicle, a jean clothed leg was sticking out from the inside and you greeted your teeth, knowing who that was.

“Hey!” you yelled out, not caring if probably half of the residents could hear you. “I’m trying to study here!”

Dean peeked out and up at you, smiled and got out of the car, leaning his elbow on the hood in a nonchalant way.

“Good morning to you too,” he said and flashed you the oh-so-charming smile.

“It would be good if you didn’t interrupt it with your loud junker,” you spat back, leaning on the window frame and smiled when his face fell; he hated it when someone insulted his Baby, and you were very much aware of that. “Now, could you please lower your generic volume because I have a lot to do and you’re the last thing I want to deal with today.”

“Nobody tells you to. I’m minding my business, you go mind yours, I ain’t stopping you.” He gestured towards you with his grease covered hand.

“No, but your car is making noise that shakes all the dishes in my cabinet.”

He just shrugged and you narrowed your eyes, seeing that he didn’t care about whatever your problem was. “Then I suggest closing the window.”

After saying that, he dived inside the vehicle and seconds later you heard the strong twang of a guitar. Again. This man was very successful in making you hate rock music. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, stopping yourself from throwing a flowerpot at him; only because it was a very nice pot and you were emotionally attached to it.

“I need fresh air! I’m not gonna close the window! Turn that off!” you screamed, but he only frowned and pointed to his ear.

“Sorry sweetheart, can’t hear you!” You could see the smile dancing on his lips and you really wanted to break something on his head. “The music is too loud!”

Clenching your jaw you gave up. Another defeat, but it wasn’t the war you lost; it was just a battle and he was yet to feel your comeback. Showing him your middle finger, you closed the window and went to the bathroom, not being able to hear the soft chuckle that left him.

Maybe to an outsider, Dean’s behavior wasn’t such a big deal, but the longer he acted like that, the more annoying and tiring it was becoming. You couldn’t focus on basic activities because he was giving you a headache in various ways and for some reason, you couldn’t just talk it through with him. Every attempt at trying to get to an understanding with him, ended up with a fight.

Winchester was just a pain in the ass.

Thankfully, he vanished before noon; his car was gone and there was a blissful silence that you made the most of, and finished the majority of what you had to do.

Surrounded by papers and books, you were sitting down on your fluffy carpet, leaning back on your couch, typing away on your laptop. Glancing at your clock again, you frowned. It’s been almost 85 minutes since you ordered pizza; your stomach was rumbling, unhappy with the fact of still being empty. Finding your phone, you dialed the pizza parlor’s number once again. Standing up, you stretched your muscles and looked outside, watching the sunset sky as you waited for someone to pick up. Finally, the lady’s voice spoke to you down the line, asking you how she could help.

“Hi, I made an order from you and I still haven’t received it? It’s been over an hour,” you explained politely, scratching the back of your head.

You didn’t like situations like that; delay was understandable, but it had been way too long. However, you hated to call someone out, you never wanted to make someone’s job harder than it already was. Giving your address to the lady so she could check where your food was, you spotted the black vehicle under the building and your brows shot up. He was home and it was still quiet; it wasn’t normal.

“Miss, the system says your order was delivered and we have a confirmation of receipt.” You frowned hearing her words as what she said was impossible.

“Are you sure? There was no delivery here.”

“Yes, I’m positive. It says someone picked up the order twenty minutes ago.” Pinching your nose, you took a deep breath.

“Could you check the address precisely, please? Maybe your driver made a mistake?” you suggested being already sure someone else got your food.

“Rosenhouse Street, building 4, apartment 12,” she read and the last number made you flinch.

“Apartment 20,” you corrected her, but she denied.

“No Miss, the order was picked up by apartment 12.” And just like that the level of your anger reached three digits in a second.

“Okay, thank you so much,” you murmured and disconnected the call without a goodbye, already storming halfway across your place, getting ready to leave.

Slamming the door, you took a very well known path downstairs and you banged on number 12 as soon as you stood in front of it. Feeling the urge to punch the person who was supposed to open, you inhaled deeply, clenching your teeth. Just... keep it cool, Y/N.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” you growled the second Dean came into your view in his domestic clothes, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Whoa, what?” he tilted his head with an uncomprehending look.

“Listen,” you pointed a finger at him. “Loud noises, annoying car, your mean behavior, fine, okay. Screw it. But stealing food? That is childish. Can you go any lower?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he said with a smile dancing on his lips. “What food?”

“My pizza,” you muttered through your teeth.

“Oh, right!” He smacked his forehead, acting like he just now understood. “Yeah, pizza was great.”

“You stole it!” you exclaimed, a little too high pitched.

“No I didn’t,” Dean stated, giving you a small, I-know-better smile.

“Yes, you did. I ordered it and you just pocketed it!” You really wanted to stamp your foot like a little girl to tick your fury.

"No sweetheart, I didn’t," he said, crossing his arms and straightening his back so he could tower over you, making you look up. "The guy came in with pizza, said he's supposed to bring it here, so I paid for it and ate it."

"Oh! Because it's normal to pay for the food you didn’t order and keep it to yourself. And stop calling me sweetheart!" You puffed out irritated, making him smirk.

"You're cute when you're angry." Your face fell and you felt your palm itching. What would he do if you slapped him?

"Dean," you warned him but he chuckled.

"No, seriously." He reached to your forehead, wanting to brush it with his finger. "You have this cute, little wrinkle in the middle-"

"Don't touch me." You smacked his hand away and pointed a warning finger straight into his face. "One more action like this and you're gonna regret it," you growled out and walked away.

"So it's threatening now, huh?!" he called after you, coming out to stand in the hall.

Before you stepped on the stairs, you turned around with such a force, that your hair flipped over one of your shoulders and you showed him your middle finger. Hearing his low laugh bouncing on the wall, you scoffed annoyed as you stomped loudly going back upstairs. You swore that if you were supposed to become a murderer one day, that this man was gonna be victim number one. This whole 'lets annoy her' process would be great fuel for you to slice that slender throat of his.

Shutting the door again, you walked into the kitchen, dived in the fridge and decided to stuff yourself with pancakes. Screw Dean and his pizza, you were not going to give him satisfaction with ordering anything else tonight.

“So, he’s a confident man,” Jo stated after you told her about Winchester’s behavior.

You came to Harvelle's to grab something for Sunday dinner; they had the most delicious menu in the whole town and no one could change your mind. You were sitting with a blonde girl at the table, outside their restaurant, sipping on some light drinks Ellen had prepared for the two of you. Ash was already working on your meal in the kitchen while Jo was taking her break so she could sit with you and listen about your neighbour under the floor. It took you way longer to describe everything and you felt kind of bad for that. You weren’t the type who whined about such things and forced friends to hear about your bullshit, but now you were desperate to get it all off your chest.

“Confident asshole,” you corrected her, “I just wish he could finally get his ass kicked, you know? I can’t live with this man! He’s an arrogant, offensive, little, annoying dickhead!” you said, crossing your arms on your chest.

After a few seconds of silence, you looked up at Jo. She was watching you, clearly trying not to smile; her lips were twitching and small dimples had already appeared. You knew her long enough to know that she was all ready to tease you about this whole situation.

“What?” you barked at her and she lifted her hands in defense.

“Nothing!” She shrugged. “Just, your relationship with him seems to have been… rough since the very beginning.”

“It is! I really wanna punch him!” Jo lifted her brows, a smile breaking on her face.

“Just punch him?” The suggestion was shining in her eyes and your shoulders fell down at the subtext.

“Jo!” she started giggling when she heard your resigned tone. “Just because I’m having a heated exchange with a hot guy doesn’t mean that I wanna fuck him!”

“Oh, so you think he’s hot?” she asked innocently, taking a sip from her glass.

“Yes, but he’s an idiot and I would never let him in my panties, come on,” you scoffed as you rolled your eyes. The last thing you would ever do was having sex with this man.

“Sure.”

And you knew Jo didn’t believe you. To be honest, if you thought about it really, really hard, you weren’t sure if you believed yourself…

The door opened and Ash came out with a smile, your food packed in a thermal box.

“There you go, girl. We do not accept any complaints,” he said, winking at you and you chuckled, taking the meal from him.

“Thanks, Ash.” He saluted you and vanished as quickly as he appeared. You glanced at your phone laying on the table and sighed seeing the time. “Okay babe, I’m gonna go. School’s calling and I bothered you enough anyway.”

“Oh stop it, you’re not bothering me, don’t be stupid,” she said smiling, and hugged you tight. “Text me when you get home.”

“Sure thing.” You winked and walked backwards, watching her disappear inside the RoadHouse.

Smiling to yourself, you turned around and crossed the street. At first your thoughts were filled with Jo who could always put you in a good mood but then they gradually transitioned into someone else.

You didn’t know if it was your overworked system or what Jo had teased you about that caused Dean to stick inside your mind, but you wanted to scream; it was like he had nested in there. Not only was he disturbing your living space, but he was now invading your mental space as well. What’s more, it wasn’t exactly hard to not think about him in a nasty way, and you hated it. The truth was that he was attractive from his fluffy hair to his toes, and more than once you had caught yourself daydreaming about his hands and mouth on you.

You couldn’t help it. The way he looked was not fair and Jo made you realise that if not for his attitude, you would have slept with him a long time ago. Thankfully, in the moments you felt weakness for him, he was doing something that pissed you off to the point where you wanted to bite his head off.

You really wanted to get even with him, you had to bounce the ball. The need to bite back was so big that you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw the paint store. The bulb in your head flickered on and a devil smile angled your lips. Maybe it was a bad idea, maybe it was childish, maybe it was crossing the line, but you had suffered enough thanks to this jerk.

Buying one can of pink chalk paint, you were muting your common sense that was currently shouting at you. As the saying goes - you only live once. He wanted a fight? You were going to fight. He started to play a strong hand? You were going to do the same. He thought playing with you like that was fun? Well, you were gonna have some fun too. Besides, he wouldn’t realise immediately that the paint would easily wash off, but seeing him panic thinking that his car had been defaced was revenge enough.

With a few last strokes of a paintbrush, you were finished. Straightening your back, you looked down at your work and smiled, satisfied with pink flowers you had drawn on the black surface. They were a nice contrast and you really liked the shape. In all honesty, it kinda burned you to paint this four wheeled beauty, but it wasn’t your fault her owner was a douchebag who deserved a lesson.

The impala was parked in her usual spot, next to the building that was mostly asleep. There were no cameras and due to the late hour, the chance of someone spotting you was small. Besides, you were just a hooded figure, no one would recognise you anyway even with the dim light from a lonely lantern. It was risky, but you were too far gone in your revenge to care. It had been done and you wished you could see Dean’s face in the morning.

Gathering your things you looked around, checking to see if there was anyone you should avoid and you got back to your apartment. After closing the door, you took off your clothes, staying only in leggings and a t-shirt, and decided to make some tea. You had this weird energy bubbling inside of you and it would be a waste to not use it on college papers. Getting comfortable on your couch you started going through materials for one of your projects.

Not expecting any visitors, you jumped slightly while hearing a rapid knocking on your door an hour later. You frowned and stood up, finishing your tea on your way to the entry. What you saw on the other side almost made you smile like an idiot. Dean was boring into you with his eyes; if looks could kill, you would surely be a beautiful corpse by now. His chest was rising and falling heavily, jaw clenched to the point his cheek was twitching and you could see the slight blush coloring on his face. He was wearing his leather jacket but was also in sweats so you assumed he was about to make a quick grocery run or something.

“What the hell?!” he growled at you before you could say a word. Ohhh, he was angry.

“What?” You shrugged innocently, ignoring the weird chill that ran down your spine after hearing the vibrations of his tone.

Dean took a deep breath, doing his best to not shout out. “I wanted to go get some beer and burgers, but guess what. Someone screwed up my car. And you know what? I think it was you.”

He pointed a finger at you, holding keys in his hand. You laughed and leaned on your doorframe, ready to confront him. Satisfaction already tickled your insides, but there was one thing that you had to admit - he was hot when he was angry.

“You really think that I have nothing better to do than mess up your car?” you asked, amused by his flaring nostrils.

"Don't you fucking dare play with me like that," he said firmly, not wanting to yell. "Do you know it's property damage? You broke a law and I can easily get you in trouble."

He was fuming with anger and you were sure that if it was possible, there would be smoke coming out of his ears. You smiled and stood your ground, finding it adorable how he thought he had anything useful against you.

"You have nothing on me. No proof that I was the one who defaced your car," you started, taking two steps to stand inches away from him. "Call the cops and I'm gonna tell them all about the nuisance, the stealing, manipulation and manifestations of aggression all coming from you.”

You stared straight into his eyes, a smart smile not leaving you even for a second; feeling confident in your words. Maybe he had a point, but you weren’t empty handed. You could get punished for what you did and so could he.

“What is your problem, Y/N?!” he asked, pinching his nose, clearly irritated with you. “You keep whining, making problems out of nothing and now painting my damn car?”

“You’re not letting me live in peace!” you raised your voice. “Your loud music, loud car, loud tv, loud you in general! I can’t sleep, I can’t study, I can’t do anything because you’re always there to disturb me!”

“Then leave!” he suggested, raising his tone as well. You were taken aback; lifting your brows you blinked a few times. Was he joking?

“Leave?! Are you kidding me now?! This is my home and just a friendly reminder, I was in here first so maybe you should back off!”

“But you’re the only one having a problem with me!” he yelled, spreading his arms, highlighting the obviousness of his argument.

“Because you’re a manipulative ass! You use your charm, this fucking smile, your shining eyes, and nice language, and the whole building is yours! Even Ian from the 4th floor and he doesn't even like people!”

“Ian is a cool guy!”

“Good!”

You took a breath and opened your mouth to say something more but no words came out. Again, you were convinced that there was no way to come to an agreement with this guy. Further arguments were pointless. Looking at him you shook your head and brushed your hair to the back. The soft smile and look you gave him next, made him frown a little.

“You know what? Fuck you,” you said simply and went to close the door, but his retort didn’t let you.

“You wish.”

Freezing, you locked your eyes with his and in a split second, something shifted in the air. The atmosphere got thick and the tension you had been building for months, now came into play, kinda taking you both by surprise. Dean felt it too, you could see his expression changing. He was trying to read you, trying to understand what was buzzing between you. A part of you wanted to explain it, to show him that you already knew it was sexual tension saying ‘hi’, but as soon as you realised that, you swallowed and forced your rational mask back on.

Shaking off the urge to take steps towards him, you scoffed and sending him one last look, you shut the door without saying anything. Taking two deep breaths, you leaned your forehead on the wooden barricade and closed your eyes.

There was no way in hell you would give in and break. He had everyone else in his fist, but not you. The only person that didn’t fall under his spell, the only one that didn’t let your craving inside take better of you. Dean was still your enemy and a pain in the ass; it was a matter of honour and dignity to stay away.

However, soft knocking made your eyes snap open. No. Darting your head from the door you looked at it, knowing who was behind it but that didn’t even register when you pulled on the door-handle. Dean was supporting his body on his arms that he had placed on both sides of your door, blocking the way. He was looking at you intensely, his breathing quicker than moments ago.

You could see the exact second he made a decision. You knew he was going to do something he shouldn’t and yet, you let him close the gap between you and crush his mouth to yours, cupping your cheeks at the same time. The force he hit you with made you take steps backwards, encouraging him to come in and turn you around so you could unconsciously close the door. His grip was firm, long fingers digging in your neck as hot lips forced yours apart. But your stubbornness caused you to push him away, breaking the connection.

The look you exchanged was a mix of emotions; hate, passion, frustration, lust, confusion, hesitation. This was something completely new for you; needing him was unfamiliar, strange, but at the same time stronger than anything you had felt before when it came to Dean. There was this quiet voice telling you that it was already too late; you tasted it and you wanted it, obviously. The other voice was louder, trying to make you aware of how messed up it's gonna be after, but somehow you didn’t want to listen. Not this time.

"Fuck it."

Saying that, you approached Dean and gripping him by the back of his neck, you pulled him down for a kiss. It was sloppy and deep, all teeth and tongues. He inhaled through his nose, bending down when your nails clawed at his skin. Grabbing you by the waist, he used a little pressure so you walked backwards. You didn’t expect to be pushed against the wall and a surprised gasp escaped you when your back hit it. Looking up at Dean, you noticed how his hungry eyes flickered over your figure and a cocky smirk formed on his face. You mirrored his expression and lifted your chin, so you could suck in his lower lip, biting on it softly. His response was immediate and fierce; he pressed his body to yours, pinning you to the wall completely, kissing you even deeper than before. The heat flooded you, making your cheeks burn and a sweat break.

You moaned and that seemed to spur him on because his hands started travelling all over your body. Doing the same, you aimed for his jacket, pushing it off his broad shoulders so it could land on the floor. The thought of finally discovering what was under his clothes took over your brain and you started to pull on his t-shirt, hazed and eager. But Dean grabbed your wrist and pinned it next to your head, not letting you undress him. You twisted and tugged, trying to break free, but he slid his fingers between yours and you instinctively clenched your palm.

“Don’t fight,” he breathed out, leaving your lips as he dropped to your neck, letting you take a much needed breath.

Leaning your head back you gave him the access to your throat where he licked and sucked, french-kissing your flesh. Your knees buckled a little when his hot lips closed on your pulse point, sending shivers down your spine as his stubble prickled you. Feeling his second hand sneaking under your shirt, you held your breath and jerked on the skin to skin contact. He wasn’t delicate; his long fingers were squeezing and digging, a firm touch making it all the more intense. Using your free hand you fisted his hair, pulling on it. Dean purred, nibbling on your flesh, making your eyes roll. It was like playing tennis, back and forth; you had an answer to each other's movements.

The hunger inside you was growing fast; you were getting more and more impatient and being caged by Dean only made you feel limited. So, naturally, you rebelled, trying to take control; with Dean it was always a competition. But your attempt only caused him to press his body more, his knee coming between your legs, making it harder for you to move. The thin material of your leggings was a weak protection to his touch and you whined when your sensitive area met his thigh. Fidgeting even more, you made him chuckle.

“Stop fighting,” he whispered into your ear as he pulled your earlobe between his teeth.

Growling, you turned your head and sunk your teeth into his neck, tasting sweet and salty. Dean hissed and backed away, looking down at you with a surprise in his eyes, brows slightly furrowed. You smiled and angled yourself to speak against his lips.

“Don’t act like you don’t like a fight, Winchester.”

The suggestion was clear and he seemed to understand. Your relationship was already a ticking bomb so why not have a little fun?

The challenging look you gave him was a last jolt and his mode switched. Before you could do anything, he kissed you firmly, letting go of you just to grab on the front of your shirt. Pulling with two hands Dean ripped the fabric in half, revealing your torso, making you smile a devil’s smile. He shook his head in disbelief that you were actually going along with it and grinning, he attacked your jaw. Scraping it with his teeth first, then kissing and going down passed your neck, to your collarbone. Bending his knees so he could reach lower and lower, he proceeded to shrug the destroyed clothing off you and focus on your breasts. Placing sloppy kisses on the curves, Dean moved his hands on your back and unclasped your bra. As soon as it was gone, he sucked in one of your nipples, causing you to arch your chest. Pulling his hair, you grabbed the back of his head, letting him know you enjoyed his work.

Every time his lips touched you, they left burning spots and you could feel yourself getting wetter. Not holding back anymore, you started to roll your hips, seeking the friction his leg could give you. Still playing with your boobs, he caught your hips and added the power to your moves, dragging a moan from you. Glancing down, you spotted the bulge in his sweatpants and realised he was still wearing too much clothes.

“Take that fucking shirt off,” you panted out, grabbing on the piece of clothing on his back.

This time he allowed you to do what you needed, lifting his arms to make your task easier and the second his chest was bare, you used your nails to leave red lines, making him grimace from pain before he kissed you. Caressing his newly exposed body, you felt firm muscles of his strong arms flexing. He wasn’t a gym type of guy, he was soft in some places but firm and strong in general, and that turned you on to the point your stomach flipped.

Suddenly, he pushed on your hips until your butt touched the wall behind you and pulled away from you, straightening himself. You looked at each other, panting and flinching in anticipation. Keeping the eye contact, Dean cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips and slowly slid his hands down your body. You swallowed hard when he hooked his fingers behind your waistband and pulled your leggings down, crouching in front of you.

With a thumping heart you looked down at him, meeting his dark eyes watching you as he kissed your knee, your thigh, your inner thigh; his hands travelling up your legs, leaving goosebumps. You shivered when his hot breath hit your still clothed core. He placed a kiss on your damp panties, making your pussy clench and stopped. Leaning his forehead on your lower stomach, he tried to remain self-control, breathing strongly to calm himself down... and he failed. This whole situation was too much and he had wanted it for way too long to stop now.

Shooting up, he claimed your lips, driving his fingers inside your briefs at the same time. His digits went through your folds, gathering slick and found your clit, making you gasp into his mouth.

“Yeah? Right here?” he whispered and you sucked the air in through your mouth when he drew a circle, pressing harshly on your little nub.

Feeling him smiling, you clung to his neck, keeping him close when he started to make circles on your button. Moaning laughs escaped you, mixed with short breaths as you felt fire filling your veins, tickling sparks running from your clit to every nook of your system. For a moment you lost yourself in the feeling, but your brain woke up when he nudged you, rubbing his dick on your leg.

Opening your eyes, you locked them with his, tracing your palm down his chest and stomach. Somehow, you managed to turn you both around so he was by the wall. You didn’t care about teasing him through his pants so you pushed your hand inside and grabbed his hard shaft. Dean jerked and choked on his breath; the whole foreplay made him ridiculously sensitive.

You smiled satisfied and began to pump him, making his head fall back on the wall. His exposed neck was shining with sweat, throat moving as he swallowed hard. Your biting kink was begging for you to bite him, but the view was too good to not watch. His breathing quickened along with your strokes, his jaw flexing when he opened his mouth to chug. A thick vein popped out on the side of his neck, a guttural whine coming from him when you rubbed your thumb on his tip. Finally, you gave in and closed your lips on his jaw, light stubble pricking your lips. Dean turned his head and palming yours he brought you in for a kiss but you broke it fast, having enough.

"Come on," you said, taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom.

Not being able to stay away from each other, you stumbled towards the room, kissing and laughing, getting rid of the rest of the clothes on your way. Hitting the bed you let yourself fall on it, pulling Dean behind you. He hovered above you, using his tongue to play with your nipples as you both climbed up to the headboard. Adjusting the pillows beneath you, you felt his body pressing down, arms sneaking under yours as he kissed you deeply. Rolling his hips, he drove his cock between your folds, poking your clit and you automatically lifted your lower body up on your heels, feeling the electricity running through you. Dean bit down on your lip and pulled on it hard with his teeth, smiling when you hissed.

Without thinking much you just reached between your bodies and guided his cock to your entrance, making him freeze. The look he gave you was a mashup of a question and disbelief, and all it took was your evil smirk. You felt him fisting the sheets under you and with one, mild thrust he slid inside of you. Arching your back you inhaled, digging your fingers into his shoulders. He was stretching you; your walls fluttered around him when he bottomed out, making the two of you give silent moans, your voices stuck in your throats from intensity.

Watching you, he began to move, making you both more and more comfortable with the feeling. Gradually, his pace increased and so did the noises. Your breathy moans and growls filled the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping on skin as Dean's hips waved between your thighs, faster and faster. New layers of sweat covered your bodies as the temperature increased; you felt the omnipresent, pleasurable burning.

Dean kept the rhythm, only stopping for just for a moment to kiss you. Not letting the opportunity pass, you pushed on him and flipped over so you were on top. Looking at you with a smirk, he palmed your asscheeks as you sinked down on him, continuing the activity.

The passion and sensuality made your head spin; Dean’s lustful eyes devouring you alive weren’t helping. You dragged your nails on his flesh again, making him hiss between the sounds. It wasn’t easy to breathe, to think or control yourself; your body started working by itself, speeding up, making you bounce on him while leaning your hands on his chest for support. Dean couldn’t decide where to touch, what part of you he should grab next; his hands were everywhere. Wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck he sat up, changing the angle and gave you this eye-rolling kiss. This asshole knew what he was doing.

A new position allowed you to only roll your hips and you laid back, grabbing Dean’s ankle to make your moves more fluent. He took a handful of your ass, helping you, watching himself sliding in and out of you, growling in pleasure. Tangled together you moved in sync, matching the other’s moves, grinding to empower the sensation. Feeling the coil tightening in your stomach, your head hung back and you exhaled, wailing quietly. A hand flattened on your back and Dean violently pulled you up, pressing your forehead to his. With closed eyes, panting against each other's mouth you chased both of your deliriums. Your pussy fluttered, your nails dug into his neck as you clasped it; the feeling started to overwhelm. The way Dean was moaning and clinging to you made it clear that he felt the same.

Your strength was fading and you found yourself slowing down. Dean’s attempts to continue were in vain as he was becoming weak too, exhaustion and his upcoming release taking over him.

“Y/N,” he warned you and you opened your eyes, looking at him when he reached between you. “I’m gonna-” you kissed him, cutting him off, tugging on his lip with your teeth.

“Stay inside,” you whispered, watching the surprise flash through his features.

The serious, assuring look on your face made his eyes roll back and the noise he made, clamped your stomach. Using your last strands of your power, you sped up, Dean joining you by hitting the right spot inside you. His fingers found your clit again, rubbing on it fast and you moaned loudly, feeling your muscles tightening.

A few more strokes, a few more moves and the crushing wave of pleasure hit you; your inner walls pulsated, squeezing Dean’s cock as you grabbed firmly on his neck, holding on for dear life. His thrusts went more erratic but also were more powerful; he was pounding inside you slow but hard, putting his forehead between your breasts. You were shaking and his breath fanning over your tummy only added more goosebumps.

Then you felt his arms wrapping around you and he hugged you tight. Pulling you close, Dean thrusted for the last time and with a low, throaty groan he stilled; his cock throbbing inside you, allowing you to milk him as you were still coming. The two of you were shivering, entwined in each other, panting and sweaty. Your heart was hammering and you could feel Dean’s galloping as well.

After calming down a bit, he let go of you and fell back on the bed, hitting the pillows with a sigh. Licking your lips, you looked down at him and smiled, seeing his eyes sparkling with joy and bliss. He laughed, caressing your thighs and then pulled you down for a kiss. It was sweet and soft, without tongue, just lips brushing yours; completely different then those earlier.

Oh, so he could be gentle too.

Cupping his face, you pecked his mouth a few times and then rolled off of him, standing up to make a quick run to your bathroom to clean yourself, leaving the door open.

"Hey!" you heard him yelling not even two minutes later, after you splashed your face with cold water. "Is it weird that I wanna cuddle?!"

You smiled on his words, shaking your head. Asshole also appeared to be a softie cuddler. Can this evening be any weirder?

"Yes!" you yelled back, laughing as you put down the cloth you were using to dry yourself.

"Cool!" he announced and then changed his tone, "I don't care."

Chuckling, you turned the light off on your way out and grabbed a random, oversized t-shirt from your drawer to put it on, letting it slip from one of your shoulders. Dean was making himself comfy in your bed, watching you carefully with his arm under his head and a stupid grin on his face.

"What?" you asked as you climbed on the bed, joining him under the covers.

"Nothing," he shrugged and shifted so you could fit in, resting your head on his chest.

Throwing your arm over his middle, you hugged him as his fingers came to trace the skin on your shoulder. A comfortable silence fell over you as you cuddled, enjoying the warmth, but you knew his mind was running, just like yours.

You didn’t like this tendency of yours to overthink, but the current situation was not only unexpected but also confusing. What now? Lovers? Relationship? Friends with benefits? Enemies with benefits? Because, you had to stay honest, if he did something that would piss you off, no matter how good he was in bed, you would still punch his perfect nose.

"I'm sorry." His words surprised you, detaching you from your thoughts. "For being a noisy neighbour."

You could hear the genuine guilt in his voice and that immediately made you feel like a bitch, so you said the first thing that came to your mind.

"I'm sorry for screwing up your car," you mumbled and quickly regretted it.

"Ha! So it was you!" His victory voice made your eyes roll and you poked his side, annoyed by the fact he dragged a confession from you so easily.

"But if it makes you feel any better, the paint is made of chalk so it’ll easily wash off," you said, unable to help the silly smile that spread across your face when you saw the relieved but shocked expression that he wore.

“Well played,” he chuckled, the sound rumbling under your ear which you found oddly comforting. So you snuggled more, melting into the intimacy.

You had to look the truth straight into the eye; maybe he did infuriate you like no other but there was something else. A pull, an urge to blow off the constant steam forming between you. You wanted him and something was telling you that from now on you won't be knocking on door number 12 just to fuss about loud music.

And once Jo finds out, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :) Feel free to leave some feedback. ASKs and DMs are open, don’t be afraid to message me. Every word from you is gold <3

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fugitivestogether · 3 years

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2, 6, 12, 15, 16, & 17? -isabelselfinserts

eeeee! Thank you so much!! @isabelselfinserts ❤️😊💖💖💖 2) Big spoon/Little spoon? I’d like to say ‘it depends’ but in reality, Sparks ends up being the big spoon most of the time 😚 They just love the feeling of An.ders in their arms - it means he’s safe and he’s resting, especially since sometimes his sleep patterns are so off that he ends up not getting the rest he should. And.ers also prefers being held; it also makes him feel safe and loved. It’s not very often, but eventually they will switch here and there. Sometimes Ande.rs will be big spoon when Sparks is having a bad episode or just kinda going through a rough time. 6) What is their favorite feature of their partner’s? For Sparks...it’d be difficult for them to pinpoint their favorite because they love An.ders’ so wholly. Their head would probably explode from trying to choose xD Physically speaking, it’d be his hands - they’re so strong and warm, and he’s done so much good with them. Overall/attribute wise...probably his innate goodness and desire to help others. He goes above and beyond when it comes to others, and it was that part of him that made them fall in love with him. He’s always willing to go through so much for the sake of others. They greatly admire that. For And.ers...similarly, it’d be difficult to choose just one, but physically speaking, he absolutely loves their smile; it’s bright and cheery and can help him feel better after a hard day. Overall, he loves their tenacity, and how eager and determined they are to get things done for a good cause. In the past he’s often had his sense of hope and faith shattered but he’s always had Sparks to be his rock for when things in the world become too heavy to carry on his shoulders. 12) Who initiates kisses? jdfksfdsfajdkfjkd can I just say ‘it depends’??? ;A; lol I love to think that it really does depend. Sparks is not so kiss oriented but still loves to give kisses on the not so kissed spots, like hands, ears, chin, nose. Sparks likes all the kisses...but isn’t so great with lip-lock. So I’ll say And.ers initiates all lip kisses while Sparks initiates every other type of kiss. 15) Who wakes up first? Sparks, by far. They’re the type to wake up naturally at like 5 in the morning and just go ‘what a beaaautiful day!’ They’ve always been an early to bed, early to rise kind of person. 16) Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer? I think it depends on how An.ders is feeling; if he’s worried about something at the clinic and if he’s going through a manic/hypomanic phase, but if he’s not or is just having a rough patch where sleep doesn’t come to him so easily, he’ll be the one to want to stay in bed a bit more. 17) Who says I love you first? Not sure if it super counts because the love was shown first physically but I guess maybe...Sparks kinda gets that badge since they sorta kinda ‘explain’ how they feel to An.ders how they feel about him, which he essentially boils down to ‘love. I love you too’ - so maybe both? xDDD

#ask #thank you SO much for sending this in - I really appreciate it!! <3 #fugitives together #this was so nice to think about <3

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justjessame · 4 years

Text

The Deal Chapter 6

Daryl studied me in the moonlight. And I watched him. The way the light illuminated his face, his dark hair looked black, and his bare arms gleamed. I bit my lip, waiting, letting him choose our pace. He stepped closer, looking down at me and smiled.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, letting his hand come up so his fingers could trace the lines of my face. “I can’t believe you’re mine.” I kissed the pad of his finger as it made a pass along my lips. “Since ya shared your story with me, I wanna share some of mine with ya.” I nodded. He stepped back and pulled off his vest, sitting it at the foot of our makeshift bed. Then his shirt came off and he turned so his back was in full view.

I gasped, stepping carefully forward and gently touching the deep scars marking his skin. “What happened?” I asked, my fingertips tracing each dent and groove. “Who did this?”

He was still, but I could feel the tension leaving him as my fingers moved along his back. “My dad was a mean son of a bitch. He drank. He got mean. And he hit whichever of us was closest.” I let my hands run down his back and trace the tattoos and smooth over the rest of his skin. “My mom died when I was twelve. Merle was in and out of juvie until he joined up. That left me.” I could hear the pain in his voice, but I could also hear the pride of a survivor. “I wanted to show ya, I don’t show no one. Hell, even Merle don’t know.”

I tugged on him so he’d turn to face me. I looked up at him with such a fierce feeling of protectiveness. “No one touches you again, Daryl Dixon. Not like that, not-”

His lips crashed down on mine and I was left without words. His hands, usually so carefully above the waist, cupped my ass and pulled me tight against him. He wanted me, there was no doubt at all about that, and I needed him to know it was mutual. A moan, deep in my throat built and he swallowed it. Our tongues tempted and tasted one another, and I knew, barring some kind of catastrophe, tonight we would finally come fully together.

Our clothes fell off in record time, I can’t be sure who took what off of whom. All I know is that we were both, completely and totally bare beneath the bright moon and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He cradled me into his arms and then we were lying on the blankets. One kiss became another, our hands touching every inch of each other, learning and testing what each one liked the best. The answer? Everything. Everywhere Daryl touched me a fire flared. Everywhere I touched him, I could feel his need.

As he kneeled between my open legs, he looked down at me and gave that half smile that I’d come to love. “I don’t got protection, Jessi, so we’re gonna have to be careful.”

I sat up and cupped my hand behind his neck, pulling him down with me. “I don’t care, Daryl. Just take me.”

And then, one rock of his hips and we were finally joined. His forehead met mine, our eyes locked together once we adjusted to just how perfectly we fit together. Then our lips brushed and I arched up against him. I felt him moan into my mouth and he moved. Together we moved, thrust being met with the same intensity. Our mouths searching for any bit of skin we could reach, our lips together every other second.

He’d compared my beauty to the stars, he was like my sun. Bright and hot and burning with every touch. As we came together, moving and clutching, I felt sure of one thing in my world. Daryl Dixon loved me. And I’d die for him.

GREENE FARM~ JUST BEFORE SUNRISE

I was snuggled in Daryl’s arms, his head resting on the top of mine. He was right, and it would be annoying how often that happened if I didn’t enjoy it so damn much. Our first time was memorable, and magical. We’d made love so many times during the dark hours that I lost count. Touching, tempting, burning, it was so amazing and I’d fight to keep experiencing it with him.

I felt him stir and smiled. “You waking up?” I asked, kissing his chest. “Maybe we should head back?”

He groaned at the mere thought. “Can’t we just stay here forever?” He asked, and I grinned up at him. “Could start a new Eden. You be Eve, I’ll be Adam?”

I hummed in approval as his hand slid down my body. “That’s pretty damn tempting, Dixon.” His hand landed on my ass and grabbed a handful. “I think we’d scare Hershel’s horses. Not sure they’ve seen naked people around here.”

That made him laugh. “True ‘nough.” He pulled me up so I could be kissed thoroughly. “I love you, Jessica Grimes.” He whispered as he released me.

“I love you, Daryl Dixon.” I said without hesitation. “I’m probably going to be walking funny for a few days, so I’m sure everyone’s going to know just how much we love one another.”

We both giggled at that. “Ya sore?” He asked, once he calmed down. Worried, like always.

“Just a bit.” I assured him. “It’s been a long time, you know.”

He nodded. And held me in his arms. “Know what they say, practice makes perfect, or in your case, less painful.” He kissed me again and I reconsidered the new Eden idea.

AN HOUR AFTER SUNRISE

We walked hand in hand back to our tent. Most of our group wasn’t awake yet, so we ducked inside the tent and took a nap. It wasn’t long after that we heard the sounds of the rest of the world waking up. I was still in Daryl’s arms when I heard Dad and the others talking about another grid search.

“Gotta get up and goin’, baby.” Daryl whispered into my hair. Kissing my forehead, he sat up and I felt a chill go down my spine.

“Daryl?” He turned to me and I smiled. “Be careful today?” He squinted at my tone, I knew I sounded scared, but I knew that something was going to happen today. “Just humor me?” He leaned over and kissed me when I sat up.

“‘Course I’ll be careful.” He gave me a breathtaking smile. “Got a lot worth livin’ for, don’t I?”

I nodded and sat in the tent trying to understand the chill. Carl was fine. Dad was clearly doing alright. Lori was being a little weird, but that’s understandable considering. So Daryl had to be the source of my worry. Didn’t he? When I left the tent, Dad walked over to me.

“Jessi,” he said, taking my shoulders in his hands. “I want you to stay behind. Most of the strongest fighters are going on this search, and since Hershel doesn’t mind your bow.”

I nodded. “Which grid does Daryl have?” I asked, looking around. He didn’t seem to be anywhere. I nearly missed the guilty look on Dad’s face. “What?”

“Look, yesterday, I told Daryl he didn’t have any more obligations to us.” I gaped at him. “I didn’t KNOW, Jessi. I didn’t know that you two were really-”

I felt my face fall. My own father had tried to push out the man I loved from our group. The ONE man other than him that cared about these assholes’ survival. “That doesn’t answer my question, Dad.” I breathed. I wondered why Daryl hadn’t told me, but it didn’t hurt that he didn’t. Knowing him, he hadn’t wanted to cause a rift between me and my dad.

“He’s on horseback, Jessi. He’s taking the ridge.” His tone was an attempt to sooth me, it almost worked. “He’ll be alright. I have to admit, he’s a tough one. And he’s amazing at tracking.”

“And he’s alone on the grid.” I bit out. “Alone and in a strange part of the forest.” I glared up at my dad. “You taught us, Dad, you taught me and Carl and Lori that partnering up on a search was the ONLY way to go. So Daryl doesn’t get that, does he?” I turned away from me to hide my fear and worry, but my dad knew me too well.

“Sweetheart?” He pleaded, touching my shoulder. “What aren’t you telling me?”

I felt the burning heat of tears in my eyes, but I wouldn’t let them fall. Not yet, not until I KNEW they were necessary. “Nothing, Dad, I’m not keeping anything back.” I turned and walked toward the RV. “I’ll take the first watch. Dale’s going to boil alive up there one day.”

I watched over the property. I watched Dad and the others, including Hershel’s youngest daughter’s boyfriend go off to work the grid. I wondered at Daryl leaving alone. I kept my eyes peeled as Carol ventured out and spoke to Lori. My stepmom looked shocked, but nodded. And when Dale insisted I take a break, I walked to the house to check on Carl.

As I came up the steps, I bore witness to a conversation I hoped I could burn out of my memory, but figured I wouldn’t be that lucky. Glenn and Hershel’s oldest daughter, the one that came for Lori and me, Maggie were standing at the door.

Glenn was trying to flirt, I guess, when I heard this zinger. “You know, we have eleven condoms left.” Ugh, I thought, they had sex. And then I was wondering where they’d scavenged the condoms.

Then the farm girl hit back with a below the belt attack with, “you see eleven condoms, I see eleven minutes of my life I won’t get back.” Ouch, I thought, looking at Glenn’s face fall. That’s harsh, and sad.

Sad puppy face Glenn begging for confirmation that he didn’t suck at sex, “it wasn’t that bad was it?” I closed my eyes to hopefully stop the trainwreck in front of me, but wait, was she giving him hope?

“I don’t even know if I like you.” Maggie offered. Thank goodness, I thought, because Glenn didn’t deserve the destruction she almost wrecked.

“But you’re thinking about it. You should.” Yep, Glenn got his sorta swagger back.

I wished I could disappear, because that’s when they noticed me standing at the foot of the steps. “Sorry. It was like the slowest moving trainwreck anyone has EVER had the misfortune to experience.” I offered, feeling my face burn bright red in sympathetic embarrassment. “Plus, I didn’t think I was being all that quiet when I came up. I mean, I’m not Daryl.” Shit, fuck, get me out of here. They were still staring at me. “I promise, your secret? It’s safe with me.” I moved past them to get in the door. Inside I let the sort of cool shade take the heat out of my face.

Shaking my head, I moved further into the house to sit with my brother, and try desperately NOT to worry about Daryl.

HOURS LATER~GREENE FARM

I was still with Carl when I heard the flurry of activity in the kitchen. Lori stepped into the room to let us know that we’d be having a big dinner together, that our group decided to cook dinner for Hershel and his family to thank them. I smiled at the gesture and hoped that it would be taken as such.

I was leaving to check in with Dale when I overheard Maggie and Hershel’s discussion about us leaving. Clearly, Hershel didn’t want us to be a permanent addition to his land. I walked quietly past the room they were chatting in and outside. The sun was still burning and I noticed that the others were back. I headed for the RV, thinking I’d relieve Dale again.

I heard Dale warning someone to not shoot, then I heard the damn shot fire. I took off running and realized that someone had put Andrea on watch. For God’s sake, I thought and realized that she looked proud. So why were my dad and Shane standing WITH the fucking walker? And that’s when I knew. This dumb, useless, gun-toting moron had shot Daryl.

I gave her no thought as I rushed to meet Shane and Dad who were trying to pick up at bleeding Daryl. He was covered in dirt, blood, and more blood. Was that a necklace of ears? Jesus, I glared at my dad and kneeled beside Daryl. I took his bleeding head in my hands and breathed easier when I realized Andrea had only grazed him. His side, that was another matter, I gasped when I moved his shirt out of the way.

“Lift him up,” I ordered, stepping away and removing the necklace. Eww, he and I were going to have to talk about appropriate accessories when he wasn’t so injured. “GET HERSHEL!” I yelled as we neared the house.

Daryl was leaning on his elbow as Hershel worked on his side. His head was bandaged and he was cleaner, thanks to me. I had sponged off most of the dirt and gore. He pointed out where he’d found Sofia’s doll on the map Maggie had provided for the grid search. And he wasn’t the least bit admonished for taking the horse without permission, he threatened the damn thing. I nearly laughed, but thought it best to restrain it.

“You’re fussin’, Jess.” He grunted, as I wiped more of his face clean.

I shook my head. “No, I’m just cleaning up my favorite masterpiece.” Hershel finished up and gave me a smile. “Thank you, again.” I offered the older man. “You keep saving the most important people in my life, going to owe you a huge debt soon.” He shook it off and left.

Dad and Shane asked Daryl a few more questions and then they walked out too. I sighed and Daryl’s hand met mine. “You knew, didn’t ya?” He asked, and I knew what he meant.

I nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t know WHAT, but I knew something bad.” I studied his face, clean now and pulled out the ‘necklace’ from my pocket. “Wanna tell me about this?”

He grimaced and laid back on the pillows. Patting the bed next to him, I crawled in and lay beside him. He groaned and pulled me closer, wanting my head on his chest. Hearing his heart pound steadily under my ear, I felt calmer than I had all day. “Horse threw me, fell on my own damn arrow, may have had some freaky ass visions of Merle, and killed some dead assholes that thought I was an easy meal.” He said, making it sound simple.

“And the ‘souvenir’?” I reminded him, having handed it to him and let him put it in his pant’s pocket.

I felt him shrug, and wince at the pain it brought to his side. “Seemed right at the time.”

I chuckled and turned my face up to look at him. “This was Daryl’s no good, very bad day, huh?” He grinned and agreed with a nod.

“Better now,” he whispered, kissing my hair. “Couldn’t think of nothin’ but gettin’ back to ya.” He sighed. “Gettin’ to ya, makin’ sure ya knew I was ok. I knew why ya looked at me like that this mornin’ as soon as the horse threw me. Then my asshole brother came into my head and I fought.”

“I’ll have to thank Merle when we find him again.” I smiled, and he grinned back at me.

We heard a light tap on the open door and saw Carol standing there. She held two plates and a smile on her face. “I thought I’d bring you two dinner, and give my thanks to the bandaged hero here.” She sat the plates on the bedside table. She leaned down and tried to kiss Daryl on his bandaged head, but he shook her off. Shaking her head, and smiling at the two of us pressed together, she went back to dinner with the others.

“You gave her more hope,” I said, sitting up to reach over him for the plates. Handing him his, I raised an eyebrow. He stared back, Clearly he wasn’t reading me for once. “Want me to feed you, hero?” He glared at me without heat and picked up his fork. Laughing I followed suit.

#daryl dixon x ofc #rick grimes daughter #eventual negan x ofc #smut #slow burn #angst

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yikestripes · 4 years

Text

Four Eyes

@lanezstuff

Here you go, love! Sorry it’s sorta short, i’m getting back in the game. I hope you enjoy it !!!! <333

Request: Can you maybe ship me with an IT character? My name is Lane. I’m 5’10 and on the thicker side. I have waist length blonde hair and big blue eyes. I normally wear ripped jeans and band T-shirt’s with dirty converse (I’m not very girly). I have a very loud and humorous personality. I am a really sweet loving person and strongly enjoy movies, rock/ alternative music, and anything horror related. I’m also currently in college studying to get my bsn in nursing. Thank you. So much love. ❤️

I ship you with Mr. Richie Tozier!

“Babe?” Richie called as he ran up the stairs and bounded loudly towards your room.

“Yeah Rich?” You yelled back as you tie your shoes. “I’m in here- Oh!” You started to say as he entered.

“Hey Doll,” Richie said with a grin, kissing your cheek before plopping himself on your bed. You smiled back and pulled your long hair back, preparing for another day at the Quarry with the Losers.

“What time are we meeting the others?” You asked, checking your appearance in the mirror, running your hands over your curves as Richie smiled behind you in the mirror.

“Around 1:30, I believe.” He responded absentmindedly; you turned your attention to him to realize he was staring at your ass.

“Eyes up, Tozier.” You crossed your arms and Richie’s face lit up pink.

“Sorry, couldn't help myself; especially when the view is as amazing as you,” He bore a shit-eating grin, to which you laughed a little.

“It amazes me how you got me to fall for you with such corny shit as that.” Richie didn’t say anything, just bore the grin a little longer before getting up, starting to get antsy.

“Alright alright, we can go.” You grabbed your bag off the bag of your desk chari and followed him outside, and climbed on the back of his bike, holding his waist tight.

Richie was sorta grateful you couldn’t see the look on his face, it was the same look he wore every time he thought you weren’t looking. He knew you’d make fun of it, and almost wouldn’t fully trust him when he told you how much he loved you. But he loved you more than his boy brain could allow him to articulate, and he just hoped you knew that. You did, you absolutely did.

You rocked up to the quarry shortly after, taking a small detour past the barrens, where you proceeded to make out for 10 minutes before you realized the other Losers would be waiting.

“Hey guys!” You hopped off the back of Richie’s bike, and pulled Bev into a quick hug before moving on to greet the others.

Beverly was part of the reason you were even with Richie, you’d been pining after him for about 4 months before you even realized how much you stared. Not that Richie minded, he knew the entire time. Even after your obvious staring had ceased, he knew you were practically in love with him, and he knew he felt the same. He was just curious to see if you would ever say anything, considering your sweet and outgoing persona, he always wondered if that had any impact on your confidence.

You’d been patching him up after yet another Bowers run-in (more like Bowers chasing Richie on his bike in his car to the kissing bridge, and beating him there). It wasn’t even Richie’s fault, he had been minding his own business in the arcade, when Bowers started taunting him and provoking him. Richie had tried to keep his temper in check the way you’d taught him to, to keep him from getting in fights such as this, but it was no use when Bowers wouldn’t shut up about you. Richie had had enough.

“Have you seen her eyes, Rich? They’re bigger than yours behind those stupid fucking glasses, Four Eyes!” Henry snarked. Richie began walking out of the arcade. “I almost got her last week, she totally wanted me. She couldn’t have made it more obvious, well, more than she does with Richie “Four Eyes” Tozier.” He continued. Richie’s blood was boiling, but Bowers was not worth it. “She can come begging on her knees for me any day.”

Something in Richie snapped like a stressed rubberband. He whipped around, and punched Bowers square in the nose, blood gushing. He staggered backwards, his goons instantly going towards Richie as he recovered.

“Fuck,” He winced and shook out his hand, sprinting out of the doors of The Capital and mounting his bike faster than he had when he was outrunning the fuckin clown.

He heard a car engine revving behind him and knew that Bowers was hot on his tail, and cut over towards the Barrens. He cut through every shortcut he knew, en route to The Kissing Bridge, suspecting Bowers wasn’t smart enough to track him.

Boy, had he been wrong.

“COME HERE FOUR EYES!” Bowers screeched out of the window, throwing the car into park and barreling out with Belch and Criss in tow. Bowers caught Richie by the back of his shirt and yanked him back onto his ass.

“See what happens when you mess with the Bowers gang, Trashmouth?” Bowers sneered, flicking his knife between his fingers, eyes alight with pure insanity.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Richie said between his teeth.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Bowers let the blade out.

“I said, Don’t. Talk. About Lane. LIKE THAT!” Richie leaned back and drove his elbow into Bowers’ groin, causing him to collapse and his knife to disappear into the stream below.

Criss and Belch quickly jumped into action, pummeling Richie until he started to see stars. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see red and blue lights flashing, and distant voices yelling. Belch and Criss coaxed Henry up in enough time to run away. As for Richie, he was left to try and stand up, and hopefully find the best nurse he knew before he passed out from the pain he felt all over. He was hobbling down Main Street, passed the arcade and the ice cream shop, where he encountered you leaving Mr Keene’s pharmacy downtown.

“Richie?!” You called out, seeing him hobbling. “Oh my God!” You guided him to the alley next to the store and gently helped him sit down; despite this, he was grinning at you through a black eye and split lip.

“Heya, gorgeous.” Your heart swooned a little bit, but you ignored him. “What’s crackin?”

“Your head, apparently.” You said, quickly assessing his injuries before getting to work. “You’re so lucky,” You were saying, wrapping bandages around his arm. “If I wasn’t here, or if I had gone shopping with Beverly, you would be screwed.”

Richie laughed, then winced.

“My point exactly.” You said pointedly.

“Oh come on, doll. I know for a fact I can always count on you.” He said, for the first time in your 4 years of friendship, genuinely.

You didn’t say anything, just blotting away the excess blood from a cut on his face.

“I know I can. I always can. You’re always fucking taking care of me and patching me up and shit. I wouldn’t be fucking anything without you.” He swallowed a little. “It’s one of the things I love most about you. Besides your amazing personality, sick fashion sense, or all the great memories I have with you, you’re reliable. And beautiful.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks, touched by his words.

“T-thanks R-Rich.”

“Jesus, you’re starting to sound like Big Bill.” You gave him a look and he just grinned back. “I just thought I’d let you in on it, how great you are.” You smiled.

“Thank you Richie, you’re pretty great yourself. The comedy king,”

Richie just smiled again, took the tissue and bandages from your hands, and took them in his own. He sat more upright, his dark eyes sparkling in the fading light.

“I have to do something,” He said quietly, scanning your eyes.

“What is it?” You asked, blinking again.

He put his hands on the sides of your face and kissed you, smiling into the kiss. You pulled away, breathless and wide eyed, Richie wearing a shit-eating grin.

“Yeah, I usually have that effect on people.” He leaned back and rested his hands behind his head, watching as you spluttered.

“Wh- H- oh my GOd!” You sat there for a minute trying to collect yourself, all the while Richie looked proud of himself for having that sort of effect on you.

You glared a little, and caught him off guard with another kiss, effectively making his cheeks turn pink. This time, you grinned.

“So, how are things in the land of love?” Bev asked, nodding her head in Richie’s direction, who was currently arguing with Eddie.

“Amazing, honestly. I owe it to you, for teaching me how to be so confident.” Bev just smiled.

“It’s what I do,” She sent a shy smile to Bill, who grinned. You started taking off your clothes alongside Bev, earning catcalls from Richie who quickly quieted under your glare, and got a running start to be the first into the water.

“Come on you sissies!” Beverly cried, slicking her hair back.

“We’re getting shown up by a couple of fuckin girls!” You heard Richie yell.

“Yeah, o-our girlfriends d-dumbass!” Bill responded, looking over the side. After he finally asked Bev out, Bill’s stutter had gradually improved, partially thanks to her, and partially thanks to his constant reciting of tongue twisters.

Richie leaped off and almost landed on you, giving you half a heart attack in the process.

“Jesus, Rich, you almost killed me!” You said, clutching your quickly beating heart.

“Well shit, then i’ll be without my woman! I’m so sorry my love!” He grabbed you and pulled you into a tight hug, laughing.

“I swear Richie Tozier,” You rolled your eyes as he pushed you away a little bit.

“What do you swear, Lane?” Your breath hitched, it did every time he said your name.

You blanked, causing him to grin. “That’s what I thought.” You shoved his head underwater, swimming in Stanley’s direction to get away from Richie.

“IT’S ON!” He launched himself toward you, and tackled you, peppering your face with wet kisses.

“EEWW RICHIE STOOOOP!” You cried in between laughs.

“Nope!”

“You’re so disgusting!”

“Yeah, but i’m alllll yours.”

“Don’t remind me.”

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honeyedlashton · 5 years

Text

“Fall More in Love Everyday”

Word count: 3053

Warnings: language, smut, the world. This is me. It’s sorta soft though. Not gonna lie.

A/N: it took me like half a day of sleepy writing and I’ve read over this maybe four times? (Which is not a lot for me.) But hey you guys want Malum content, so I’m here to deliver... also this turned into smut. It didn’t start as smut. Originally I was gonna have them go on a date, but?? They essentially have minds of their own? I can’t control it? Anyway, enjoy.

———————————————————————

Michael woke up early to a gentle breeze and the sun filtering through sheer curtains. He felt strong arms wrapped around his waist, tugging him back into the warmth of an embrace he was all too familiar with.

The bedspread formed haphazard mountains around their legs. And he felt boiling hot everywhere bare skin came in contact with eachother—so all down his backside and thighs. He even had stripes of heat on his calves where their legs tangled in the night. He wanted nothing more than to peel his sticky body away and feel the breeze, but he cuddled closer instead.

“Mike,” Calum’s already deep voice, all low and syrupy with sleep, startled him a little. “It’s too hot to cuddle.”

Michael smiled softly, “but if I pull away, it’ll be too cold, and you’ll pull me back in. It happened all night.”

Calum wasnt a morning talker so he hushed Michael softly. So Michael rolled onto his belly and curled up with the pillows trying to chase sleep. The cold breeze—by comparison—decorated his back with goose flesh but he was still at the stage where it felt nice to be so chilly.

He was right on the verge of finding sleep again when he felt Calum’s arms snake around his waist. He hummed and settled back against him, feeling every curve and line conform against his own. “I thought it was too hot to cuddle,” Michael teased softly.

And Calum shushed him again kissed the top of his head.

Michael settled in, but he wasn’t tired anymore. He was just breathing in Calum’s smell on his skin. That was the best thing about this getaway. A few days to just slow down and smell like the man he loved. To be in love in the city of love. He was overjoyed.

“Cal,” Michael rubbed Calum’s arm around his waist, and got a sleepy hum in response. “You want me to order breakfast?”

“Mhmm” was the half hearted answer.

So Michael reached for the hotel phone only to be pulled back by his muscular restraint. “What?” He giggled, “I can’t order if you don’t let me get to the phone.”

“We can last a few days without food,” Calum grumbled, and didn’t relent his grip.

“You wouldn’t last a few hours in this hotel room without breakfast,” Michael rolled his eyes, “or at least I won’t.”

Calum pretended like he didn’t hear. So Michael pestered him by turning over in his arms and running his hands over the close-cropped blond hair. “Callie, baby,” he began in that soft teasing voice, “let me order you some breakfast. I’ll get some fruit, maybe some French toast, or crepes. Maybe even some eggs. And if we’re really lucky, mimosas.”

Calum seemed to be more annoyed with the fact that Michael wouldn’t shut up than with the concept of food itself, so Michael kept pushing. He kissed him all over his tired face and rubbed over his arms. “Please? I’m so hungry, can’t you hear my stomach growling?”

Calum let out an annoyed huff and released his grip on Michael. “I want crepes and French toast,” he grumbled.

And Michael smiled picking up the phone and the menu. And he ordered in his best French—which was about about sub-average. And that was only because he was reading it practically line-by-line.

As soon as he hung up, Calum pulled him back in his arms. “We’ve got to wake up,” Michael smiled softly, “we’ve got food on the way! We’re in Paris! We’re young and in love! Youth is wasted.”

“Who made you a philosopher,” Calum yawned.

“Me, about five seconds ago,” Michael shrugged and sat on Calum’s lap to wake him up. “Please? I’ll take you to the fashion show.“ They’d spent a good chunk of time last night talking about Paris Fashion Week and how “coincidentally” they came at the right time.

Calum sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Fine, I’m awake.“

“Good.” Michael kissed him good morning. “You look handsome in this lighting,” he hummed.

“It’s just the sun,” Calum rebutted, smoothing his hands up Michael’s thighs absentmindedly.

“Exactly,” Michael grinned.

“All you do is hit on me,” Calum rolled his eyes fondly.

“Well, stop being attractive, and it won’t be an issue anymore,” Michael retorted, and kissed him deeper.

Calum hummed into it, resting his hands on Michael’s hips and thumbing circles onto the soft flesh. “Get off of me before I get too frisky for room service,” Calum smirked.

“It wouldn’t be the only time they’ve seen it—and probably not even this morning,” Michael teased but rolled beside Calum, and threw his leg over his hips. He bit his lip and looked over Calum’s face, and Calum responded by giving him slow lazy kisses. His warm hands rubbed all over his back and bum.

Michael hummed sweetly into the touches, and braced his hand on Calum’s chest. “Mikey,” Calum sighed, “my kitten.”

“Thats me, baby,” Michael kissed all over Calum’s lips and cheeks, to his jaw, and down the column of his neck. Calum growled, even through they were chaste kisses. Michael smiled when Calum’s grip tightened—squeezing the flesh on his upper thigh and lower back. So Michael slowed the kisses down made them a little more intent on sticking to the skin of Calum’s neck, and that earned him a tug that pulled him on top of Calum’s lap again.

“I thought you didn’t wanna get too frisky because of room service,” Michael teased, already rubbing his hands over Calum’s chest and tummy.

“It’s not the first time they’ll see it...” Calum hummed and smoothed his hands up and down Michael’s hips and over his bum guiding him just where he wanted him.

Michael already felt his cheeks get blushy, and he wasn’t sure if it was pangs of hunger or butterflies in his stomach, but it was looking like he’d get to satisfy both soon.

He kissed Calum more intently now, biting at his lower lip and tugging it with him when he’d pull away, only to fall back into another kiss when he’d finally let the hostage lip go.

Calum was eager to chase the kiss, too. Michael could tell by the way he licked at Michael’s lips every time he would kiss him for longer than two seconds. Michael felt powerful, so he pretended like he didn’t notice for a few kisses making Calum work for it.

But Calum wasn’t in the mood to wait, it seemed, because he was lifting Michael with him as he sat up—to have a more fair playing ground in this power play Michael had started.

But Michael found that it was hard to keep the power he’d gotten now that it was a fair fight. And Calum kissed like he did everything else: with intent. Now was no different. Michael opened his mouth almost without realizing it to let Calum in.

Michael relaxed his arms on Calum’s shoulders and pressed them chest to chest. The warmth spread through his chest and to his core and he sighed softly into the kiss. “I love you.”

Calum held the back of Michael’s head, but not to pull his hair, just to keep him close Michael guessed. He hummed a soft “I love you,” as he kissed down the side of Michael’s neck, sending an almost electric shock through his body, and he leaned into it, shifting his whole body to be even closer to Calum.

Calum hummed and hugged Michael by the small of his back to knead over his bum with strong hands. “Mmm, Cal... I’m still sore...” he wasn’t sure if Calum’s hands felt bad or good, but he didn’t want the pressure to go away, so that was a start.

Calum kissed his collarbones, “you want me to stop?”

Michael bit his lip. “No,” he whispered.

So Calum massaged deeper into the soft flesh. “My baby, so soft. So thick,” Calum sighed—not for the first time, but it still gave Michael butterflies to hear.

And he pushed his hips forward reflexively to press them together, “All for you.”

Calum sucked in a breath. “Fuck, Mikey...” he hissed slightly, and Michael bit his lip.

“Hmm?” Michael teased playfully. “What did I do?”

“You know what you did,” Calum growled. “You can’t play innocent with me.”

Michael bit his lip on a smile. “But I’m good at playing innocent...”

“But you’re not good at being it...” Calum pulled Michael’s hips forward again, but this time met his in the middle and Michael moaned into the feeling.

“I miss your hair in times like this,” Michael said thickly, dragging his fingertips down the back of Calum’s head to the individual hairs tickle the pads of his fingers. “There’s nothing to grab when I need it...”

“Fuck you,” Calum said, but it had no bite, “I’m keeping it shaved for longer just cause you said that.”

Micheal rolled his hips this time to really make Calum feel good, “Cal, you know I think you look good with the buzzcut, so I’m not complaining. I just miss pulling your hair.”

“Ever think that’s why I cut it?” Calum teased.

“Fuck you,” Michael rolled his eyes and moved more fluidly. Calum responded by trying to guide his hips a little faster—but Michael was in the mood for slow, “you’d love it when I’d pull it. It got you hot sometimes when we were in public...”

“Michael,” Calum said in a low voice and Michael could feel Calum’s hips rut up between his thighs.

“Sorry, baby, I’m not doing anything like that till after room service gets here...” Michael nibbled at Calum’s lip.

“Tease,” Calum groaned with half closed eyes.

Michael kissed up his jaw and nosed behind his ear. “Handsome,” he kissed him softly. “You’re the sexiest person I’ve ever met. The sexiest person I’ve ever seen. I could go out on a limb and say you are the sexiest person alive. In my eyes, at least.”

“I love you,” Calum‘s voice almost sounded like a whine. “God, Mikey, I love you so much.”

Michael kissed him gently and rocked his hips slowly, almost soothingly against Calums. “I know. I love you.”

Room service arrived, and Michael begrudgingly got off of Calum to put on a crumpled robe from off the floor. He kicked the other discarded clothes to the side so the cart could have room. He made sure Calum was covered before opening the door.

The attendant was in for maybe ten seconds, spoke some English and some French, and was out the door with an: “au revoir.”

“Should we eat first?” Michael suggested smelling the food made his stomach rumble more. “The eggs might get cold...”

Michael rolled the cart right next to the bed—per Calum’s request—and got under the covers again.

Food won out. If there was a decision between sex and food, they chose food nearly every time. Not that sex wasn’t good, but food was food.

Michael fed Calum bites of his French toast. And Calum in return gave Michael some of his crepes. They shared the eggs. And the berries—Michael had fun putting the raspberries on his fingers and letting Calum suck them off.

Calum kissed him deeply when the plates and mimosa glasses were emptied and stacked back on the tray.

“Someone’s feeling a bit more awake now,” Michael teased and hugged him closer when Calum kissed down his neck, and growled. “You’ve got some life back, I see.”

Calum kissed Michael‘s lips to stop his talking. Michael could taste the berries and mimosas, and he hummed and leaned into him. He ran a hand down Calum’s side and tried to pull his body up closer to him, not wanting to waste anymore time.

“I want you, Cal,” Michael begged softly close to his ear, and Calum’s grip on his bum tightened. Michael gasped and pushed into the dull ache. Calum had messed him up the night before, but somehow he couldn’t get enough of him. Not when this little get away was so short.

Michael let Calum’s fingers roam wherever they wanted. Over his thighs and up his waist. Down his back by the curve of his spine.

It was after few seconds of kissing and gentle strokes down his back when Calum brought his other hand—Michael didn’t even notice was gone—back, and teased at Michael’s entrance with cool slick fingers, his body jolted slightly.

“Fuck,” he breathed a shuddery breath, and it turned into a giggle. “That’s still kinda cold...”

“I tried warming it up a little, but I’d only had the one free hand,” Calum said in a voice that would almost be an explanation, if there wasn’t a cut of sarcasm in it.

“You’re a dick,” Michael chuckled softly, and rolled his eyes.

Calum’s response was to push the tip of his finger inside Michael, and he gasped again and clutched Calum’s shoulders. “Shit, Mikey, you’re still pretty open from last night?”

Michael groaned in response.

“If I had it my way,” Calum went ahead and slid in the second finger and Michael buried his face in Calum’s neck. “I’d keep you open like this all the time.”

Michael moaned and rocked back against his fingers. Only a little at first. He wanted to save his energy. Right now he was just focused on familiarizing himself with the feeling again. “Fuck... I’d let you,” he bit his lip, and let out a slight gasp every time Calum’s fingers spread.

“Feelin’ okay, baby?” Calum asked softly, peppering soft kisses on his jaw.

“Mhmm,” he nodded. “Keep going...”

So Calum finished opening him up fully whispering soft words in his ear. And when Michael felt ready, he made Calum take his fingers out and pushed him back against the pillows. And Calum looked so good, looking up at him with loving eyes and parted lips, Michael felt so wanted.

Michael decided he wanted to be the one to prep Calum, so he slicked—and warmed—his hands before guiding them up and down Calum’s length, earning him a groan of pleasure that refused to stay down. Michael liked that.

“You’re so handsome when you want me so much. You’re so obvious, I love it,” he said softly into Calum’s ear as he worked slowly at him. “I like it when you’re as needy for me as I am for you.”

“‘M ready,” Calum grit his teeth, but Michael knew what he meant. He sat up straight and aligned Calum to his entrance before pressing him in.

Michael gasped and groaned into it, it was way more than three fingers, but he’d adjust. He always did.

Calum was there for Michael, telling him short affirmations to make him feel like he was doing well. And between the “fuck you’re so tight,” and “baby, you feel amazing,” and “Mikey, you’re doing so good,” Michael adjusted fully.

When he felt good enough, he dropped his hips taking Calum in fully, and hummed sweetly.

“Jesus, you’re pretty,” Calum sighed, with the most dulcet expression on his face. “I mean damn, baby. So fucking pretty.”

“All you do is hit on me,” Michael bit his lip on a self indulgent smile. He could feel the blush in his cheeks spreading down his neck.

“Yeah, cause you’re my fucking soulmate,” Calum’s hips bucked up, and Michael moaned into it, tightening around him.

“I thought that was Ash,” Michael teased, his eyes and tone softened by pleasure.

“Different kind of soulmate,” Calum smirked. “I’d never let Ashton ride me.”

“He wouldn’t bottom to save his life,” Michael giggled breathily.

“Neither would I. He’d have to fight me for it,” Calum smirked, and groaned when Michael bottomed him out.

Michael gripped at Calum’s hands to support himself, and moved only slightly so he’d make Calum hit his spot. And when he did Michael would tighten around him, and Calum’s eyes rolled back. “Just don’t forget who you belong to,” Michael hummed sweetly before picking himself up, almost entirely off of Calum, only to drop his hips again.

Calum was a mess after that. He went to grip Michael’s hips so tight that Michael briefly considered that there might be a bruise when he got up. But he didn’t give it much thought because he was swept up in the moment. He was lifting up and slamming down against Calum with such a force now, even the mattress bounced.

He gripped the headboard and let his head roll back. He could hear Calum’s breathing getting heavier, and his hips were bucking up with a purpose now.

Michael melted each and every time Calum hit his spot. “Keep going, Cal. Fuck!“

And Calum did. He practically yanked Michael’s hips down once his legs were a shaky, spasmy mess. And Michael had to bite hard on his lip to keep from calling out.

“Come on, baby,” Calum growled in the voice Michael would always instantly fall apart to. “When you’re ready, let go for me...”

It was like that was his magic cue. He came on his tummy with a shuddery moan and subconsciously tightened around Calum. Calum apparently couldn’t handle that cause he came deep inside Michael hissing out his name.

Micheal took a second to breathe and then leaned in to kiss a very fucked out looking Calum, but he figured he looked just as bad—if not worse. “I love you,” He said between little kisses.

Calum kissed him back and pet Michael’s hair. “I love you. You’re prefect... my soulmate.”

“Soulmate,” Michael echoed softly and hugged him tight.

Calum cleaned Michael off, when he’d worked some kind of other magic to convince Michael to get off of him. And Michael sighed happily when Calum crawled back into bed. “We’ll get ready soon. I just want to cuddle.”

“You’re so clingy,” Calum rolled his eyes, and Michael attacked him in a hug.

“You love it,” Michael grinned. “You love me—and my clinginess.”

“I mean, yeah,” Calum said in a thoughtful tone and kissed Michael’s forehead. “I miss it when you’re not here.”

Michael shushed him gently. “Not now. It’s a happy time. Focus on me and where we are.” He kissed Calum softly, and he seemed to accept putting off any other thoughts.

So Michael kept their sweat-sticky bodies pressed together again, this time not wanting to move. Not wanting to leave the bed. Wanting to stay in Calum’s grasp forever.

#michael clifford #mgc #calum hood #cth #5sos #malum #5sos oneshot #gay 5sos #writing #I really didnt expect to write this dont @ me #this is my first smut to go to the public be gentle #one shot #soft smut #soulmates #scholarly

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sunnybimbo · 5 years

Text

teddy!!! christmas!!!! have happy christmas!!! @to-a-merrier-world

<3 kolivan’s first earth-christmas, sorta?

on AO3

Beams of Earth-brand sunlight warm Kolivan’s fur as he rolls over in bed, breaking him out of his remaining wisps of sleep. He’d be upset, because it had been one of those warm dreams that kept him steady during the day, but waking up with a warmer body was enough to make him happy.

Even happier when he sniffs at the top of Hunk’s head, taking in his earthy scent, and Hunk grumbles something sleepy back at him. He cuddles closer, despite the disruption to his sleep patterns, and Kolivan is happy to let him make a home against the fur on his chest.

Hunk inhales deep as Kolivan’s hand travels along his skin, exhaling only when he stops at the small of his back to pull them flush together. His eyes don’t open, but he’s so obviously awake by the way his arms tighten around Kolivan’s middle and by the way he curls both his legs around one of Kolivan’s, like a koala to a tree.

“Good morning, my love.” He hums, the pads of his thumbs wiping sleep from Hunk’s eyes. Hunk turns to putty in his hands, glowing bright as a newborn star.

“Morning, fuzzypants.” Hunk mumbles, eyes cracking open to fix him with a grin. “Had a good night?”

“Always, with you.”

Hunk squirms away, hiding the way his face blooms red. Kolivan was always interested in how humans could minutely change colors like that, but it was always something special when he was able to make Hunk turn into such a beautiful mess.

Hunk stands, unwrapping himself from the bedsheets. His hair ends up mussed, pointing straight to the sky as he refluffs his pillow and tries to hastily tuck the sheets into something neat while Kolivan was still in bed.

Kolivan sweeps his hands across Hunk’s hardwork, effectively turning it off kilter. Just to tease. Hunk pokes him straight on the nose, then dips over to kiss where he touches, and Kolivan is able to capture him by the waist and tug him back into bed.

He accidentally tickles up the sides of Hunk’s belly, but the silly, high-pitched noise that comes forth is what makes him keep it up until Hunk is out of breath and squeezing him tight to get him to stop.

“You’re so dangerous.” Hunk breathes, carefully arching away from Kolivan’s hands. “A menace.”

“Mm.” Kolivan agrees, eyes dropping shut as Hunk begins to rake his fingers through the thick fur at the back of his neck. It always reduces him to mush, and Hunk knows it, but he’s not using it for nefarious purposes this time. Like taking incriminating pictures of him (though, after it all, Kolivan really did enjoy seeing how happy Hunk made him just from that).

When Hunk pulls away, Kolivan is boneless against the bed again.

Hunk has half a mind to hop on top of him and sink right back into dreamland, but his phone pings with a notification and distracts him. He reaches over to put it on silent, content to spend the day doing nothing with Kolivan, but the date catches him by surprise and he nearly whacks himself in the eye with the thing.

“Christmas!” Kolivan startles as Hunk rolls onto the bed to shove the phone in his face, before he dashes right back off and rushes to the bathroom. “Wake up!”

Which, fair. Kolivan nearly forgot how seriously humans took their holidays, but at the same time, Kolivan was interested to see just how festive Hunk could get. It wasn’t often Kolivan got time off of a war to smooch his beloved and spend time on solid ground, so any moment with him was sure to be good.

He doesn’t say as much, but when Hunk comes out of the bathroom with his toothbrush stuffed between his teeth and a hairbrush for Kolivan, he’s sure he looks smitten anyway.

xoxo

Hunk stuffs him in a sweater. It’s fit perfectly to his dimensions, and quite comfortable, but some of the knitting catches on his fur if he moves too fast. Kolivan scratches his chest, careful not to shred the fluffy bubbles that were the 3D snowmen, and follows Hunk to the kitchen.

The sweater itself is also rather warm, which Kolivan enjoyed immensely. It was like one of Hunk’s hugs, all over his chest. Minus the pinching.

“What’s on the agenda today?” Hunk murmurs to himself, worrying all the way from the microwave to the stove. Whenever he stops, he lifts one foot to keep it from freezing to the cold floor (which Hunk swears is a problem), so Kolivan heads to the living room to snag his slippers from under the couch.

When he comes back, Hunk has started to boil milk on the stove and has taken down a bundle of items from the cupboard.

Kolivan drops to his knees to lift Hunk’s feet, stuffing them in the cozy footwear. When he finishes and looks up, Hunk is fixing him with the most lovestruck gaze that Kolivan finds himself pausing, just to bask in it.

“Thank you.” He shuffles forward, careful not to step on him, and leans down to press a kiss between Kolivan’s ears. Kolivan was tall enough when sitting that he hardly needs to dip far, and he was wide enough that when Hunk slips between his legs, Kolivan still has a wider span than him.

“Of course, a’sayar.” If his affectionate rumble sounds like a cat's purr, Hunk doesn’t let himself mention it.

When the milk starts to bubble and fill the room with a scent that Kolivan would count as strange if not for how delicious he knows warm milk can be, he leaves his betrothed to sit at the table.

Which gives him a perfect view of the window. Outside, the world is bathed in white. Soft, pillowy dunes of snowflakes that weigh heavy on tree branches and dance across roofs.

Kolivan breathes in deep, eyes widening. He’d seen snow, of course, but never to an extent such as that, and never so breathlessly beautiful.

He’s so enamored by it that he doesn’t notice when Hunk sets a mug of hot cocoa in front of him, nor does he notice Hunk getting up from the table to find their coats.

Only when he’s being stuffed in something fur-lined and boots as pressed against his feet does the spell break, and by then Hunk has him halfway out the door.

The view is even more stunning up close. The snowfall isn’t heavy just yet, but there are still a couple droplets of snow that delicately drop against his palm when he outstretches it. They feel like nothing, even when they melt against his skin, but Kolivan is gentle with them anyway.

Hunk digs his fingers in the cold and comes back with a bundle of it stuck between his fingers. He shapes it into a messy, lumpy ball, and proceeds to throw it directly towards Kolivan’s face.

It drops significantly and only gets him in the chest, but he reels back anyway.

“Snowball fight!” Hunk shouts, running away before Kolivan can retaliate. Kolivan has to question the necessity of having fights with snow, but the cold seeping through his jacket is enough for his curiosity to be sated as he starts to shape his own weapon.

They proceed to de-snow and then re-snow the entire front yard. Kolivan chases him from end to end, giving as good as he gets, and it only ends when Hunk trips face-first into a bank and Kolivan has to dig him out because he’s laughing too hard.

Hunk is better at snowball fighting than him, perhaps from having more practice prior to this, or maybe because of Kolivan’s claws, but they both end up doused in white in equal parts. If Kolivan had focused more on tossing handfuls of snow at Hunk instead of carefully shaping each one into a perfect sphere, he most definitely would have won.

Hunk kisses him on the cheek, but doesn’t admit defeat.

“You like snow?” Hunk asks, flopping onto the ground. He makes half a snow-angel, only the bottom half, and Kolivan sits down to watch the patterns his clothes make against the ground.

“It’s… fun.” Kolivan admits. He lifts his hand again, but the snow has all but stopped in the short battle they’d had. “I like it, yes.”

Hunk sits up, fluffing the snow from his hair with a quick shake of his head. The red on his cheeks is offsetting his lips starting to turn blue, so Kolivan stands to usher him back inside.

Hunk pulls him back down. “C’mere.” He shuffles behind him and, when Kolivan has settled, presses his palms against the backs of Kolivan’s. He helps him shape another snowball, larger this time, and slowly starts to roll it around the yard until it gains more mass.

They stop when it’s large enough to take two hands to lift completely, and Hunk lets him go to start another. Kolivan, unsure of what to do with his new toy, brushes a few excess lumps away.

When Hunk comes back with a smaller ball, Kolivan makes way for him to plop it onto the other. “What is this activity?”

Hunk slaps his palms together to dust them off and shoulders off his jacket to lay it onto the creation. “We’re making a snowman! A mini-one, atleast. Gimme your hat?”

Kolivan obediently slides his knitted-cap off and follows Hunk’s example by carefully pressing it atop the snowman’s crown. It’s faceless, so Hunk hurries to press holes for eyes, and an outline for a mouth.

“Now we find sticks and rocks to make a face.” He instructs, dusting around himself in a circle to find leaves. “And we decorate it however we want.”

“How do you want?” Kolivan slides closer, a palm against Hunk’s waist. He watches as Hunk sprinkles a couple of dead leaves around the rim of the hat, to simulate tufts of hair. It’s an ugly thing, but Kolivan rather enjoyed the little detail.

“However we want, silly.” Hunk corrects, tugging Kolivan up by the elbows. He wouldn’t get anywhere if Kolivan wasn’t eager to follow, but he appreciates the help. “You find something for the face, and I’ll do the rest of the body.”

Which is how they end up with an abomination on their front lawn. It’s an adorable thing, in Kolivan’s opinion, but an abomination nonetheless. The head ended up falling off when Kolivan stuck rocks in a line for a mouth, and ended up losing half of its mass. The hat hid most of it, but it still looked vaguely disturbing.

The bottom half was a bit better, but the sticks were stubby little things that had to be poked in at a strange angle in order to stay in place. It had legs in the form of two more lumps of snow, but it was kind of like something pooped on the lawn and they were trying to cover it up, with how dirty the snow ended up being.

When they step back to look at the thing, Hunk immediately falls into a fit of laughter. He pats their snowman on the head, which only results in it falling off again, and even Kolivan breaks apart at that.

They escape into the house, promising to fix it later, when more snow comes to cover their shame. Kolivan does remember to take a picture of it on Hunk’s phone, though.

“I swear, those usually work out better.” Hunk laughs, still dusted in snow. He’s shivering just a bit, so Keith sheds his sweater and quickly fits him with it. It sags off of his shoulder, it’s such a large fit, but Kolivan is pleased with how easily Hunk lets him take care of him. He even sinks into the residual body heat clinging to the fibers, and lets Kolivan carry him to the couch. “We just had soggy snow.”

“Mm. I’m sure.” Kolivan presses his lips against Hunk’s neck, mostly to feel his temperature, but ends up staying there longer than strictly necessary.

“I’m guessing you never really had snow, right? Did the Blades ever have any holiday like this?”

Hunk’s fingers come to the scruff of Kolivan’s neck again, carefully parting the fur and carding through. They end up sprawling on the couch, Kolivan’s endless heat sapping away the chill that clings to Hunk’s limbs.

“We… do not have anything similar to this, no. And most are generally too busy to take time to play, even if we are off for leisure.”

Hunk’s hands tease their way up to Kolivan’s skull, fingering the thick braid. He doesn’t take it apart, but loosens it considerable to bury his fingers at the roots, scratching just exactly how Kolivan likes.

When the following, pleased shiver finishes coursing through him, Kolivan nuzzles even further into Hunk’s hold and squeezes him tight. “We do, however, have a holiday. It’s not communally celebrated, but those nearby gather together.”

His eyes slit open at a passing memory, of him as a junior Blade. It was the first time he’d been at a celebration. It was tame, sure, but it was his family in what constituted as their home at the time, and there was plenty of laughter and joy from those just happy to be alive together.

Hunk has gone quiet, contemplative and solemn. A complete opposite to their earlier revelry, but Kolivan appreciates the respect Hunk always shows to his past. “Do you do anything special?”

“We sing, generally. And sleep, if we must.” It was the safest time to, surrounded by those pledged to fight and protect with their lives.

Hunk brightens at that, but hurries to tamper it down. “Will you sing for me?”

Kolivan’s smile is hidden against Hunk’s skin, tucked away like snowflake in the wake of thousands. He nods, shifting back to let Hunk sit in his lap instead of Kolivan near-crushing him as they had been sitting.

Hunk settles, back to Kolivan’s front, and Kolivan takes a moment to press his nose against the soft of Hunk’s hair and breathe in deep. It always comforted him, having the sun that was Hunk so nearby.

And he sings. The words feel hesitant on his tongue— it’s been so long. Long even before Voltron arrived, but they’re easy to pluck from his heartstrings and share with his beloved, his a’sayar.

For Hunk, it’s the most incredible thing he’s heard. He understands not a word of it, but does one really need to in order to parse the feeling behind it? He floats along the river of sound, wades through the pool of it as it overwhelms him enough to bring a tear to his eye.

When Kolivan finishes, Hunk sits in stunned silence. It wasn’t a long song in the slightest, nothing more than a brief hymn of brotherhood and love that lasted about a minute or so, but it was enough.

Hunk sniffles, and Kolivan is quick to gather him up and kiss the sad away. “My apologies, Hunk. I didn’t mean to upset.”

Hunk laughs again, softer than before. “It was just… really beautiful, Kolivan. Thank you.”

It’s only because Hunk knows Kolivan so well that he realizes the compliment pleases Kolivan immensely, by the way his eye crinkles in the corner like paper turning into an origami swan. He presses a kiss against Kolivan’s eyelids, and nestles back against his grip.

“Maybe we could invite some other Galra down sometime. To let all of you celebrate.”

Kolivan hums again, a deep rumble. “Perhaps.”

It isn’t a no, and definitely is contemplative, so Hunk lets that idea stew. He sighs, breathing in deep as the mood settles right in his gut— and he catches a whiff of chocolate.

“Our drinks!” Hunk yelps, wrenching himself from Kolivan’s grasp. He scutters to the kitchen, but the drinks have already cooled past room temperature and straight to freezing. Thus was the nature of neglected hot cocoa, after all.

Kolivan meets him halfway between the couch and the kitchen, and takes a thankful sip of the drink anyway. He always did love chocolate, no matter the form.

“I’ll make us some more.” Hunk says, half under his breath. He takes a sip, and then moves to turn back on the stove, but Kolivan captures him by the hips and tugs him back towards the couch. It’s only because his legs have lifted almost completely off the ground that he doesn’t trip and spill his hot chocolate.

“There is no need. This is perfect.” Kolivan sets them right back down as they were, only this time he stretches his legs across the full length of the couch and urges Hunk to lay down atop him.

Hunk is sure he just wants to cuddle the rest of the day, but the taste of chocolate mixed with whipped cream does sit nicely on his tongue, enough to make him want to do nothing more than watch people have Christmas fun on the television.

“Lazy.” Hunk teases anyway.

Kolivan agrees with a silent nip against Hunk’s skin, setting his mug down to press both his hands firmly against the expanse of Hunk’s back, as if to tell him that he wasn’t going anywhere .

Hunk honestly wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

#kolivunk #voltron #long post #kolivan #hunk #jam writes

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agirlunderarock · 4 years

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Writing through the Decade: 14 years old (2012)

So this was some sorta original fiction, I think it was supposed to turn into an Avengers fanfic or something. I don’t even know if this is finished. I haven’t read through it in forever, So I’m going to apologize for whatever cluster of word barf this turns out to be. I was fourteen when I wrote this, I’m pretty sure....

I think there was some influence from the Maximum Ride series and Percy Jackson and the Hunger Games and a lot of things

Running from myself

Clutching my arms close to my body, I tried to keep hold on whatever warmth I had left. The ground below was littered with my small camp from last night, and the tree I slept in creaked with every move I made. The late morning sun shined brightly through the leaves above me. The sun light felt good so I spread open my feathery charcoal wings on my back and let the sun warm them. I jumped gracefully from my branch and landed lightly on the ground near where I hung my food supply. Its been close to a year since I ran away from my old life. My family, friends, the idiots with the media who just wanted their stupid story, all of them out of my life. Then unfortunately, the gruesome images come crawling back to me. The insane monster of a man holding a knife to my back, the countless syringes he plunged into my arm, the fiery explosion that finally ended him and his heinous experiments. It’s because of him that I have wings, and my body morphs into different people. I finished eating my breakfast, and began to clean up my small camp. I didn’t have much to pack up really; one frying pan, a small pot, three small water bottles, matches, my small food supply, a compass, and two sets of clothes, all of which fit into my back pack. Before long, it looked just like the world around it. Normal, something I wished I could be again. I just finished changing when the bush next to me started to rustle violently. I jumped back just as a large German Sheppard leaped forward, teeth bared, and ready to attack. His cold bloodthirsty eyes eyed me viciously as I took out my frying pan. “How is this possible?” I said eyeing the dog cautiously. “I’m miles away from any city! I’m in the middle of freaken nowhere!” I thought panic rising in my chest. I held up the pan as another dog bounded out from the brush behind me. “Mae, Mae, Mae.” A cold voice cackled from somewhere behind the trees. “Did you really think you could escape me that easily?” “I thought you were dead,” I said flatly. “And in what way is making a laboratory explode easy? But then again I guess you monsters would know all about that kind of thing.” I added to hide the fear boiling up. “Monster? Is that really what you think of me, Mae?” the insane mad man said pretending to be taken back as he stepped into my view. Allister’s mouth twisted into a cruel sneer, and his blacker than his soul eyes laughed at my frying pan weapon. “So since you’re not dead after all, what do you want with me?” I demanded eyeing the snarling dogs. The way his sneer blurred into a vicious smile, made my stomach churn. “Isn’t it obvious? My only surviving test subject got away from me.” He reached for something on his belt as he crept closer. The dogs snapped at my heels as I tried to step back. “And I intend to get it back!” Allister shouted as he flung a weighted net at me. In that same instant, my wings burst open and propelled me up and over the dogs as they jumped at my feet. The net came crashing down on the beast as they tried attack again. Allister’s cruel smile melted into an icy glare as I smirked at the failed capture. “You’ve lost your touch Allister.” I mocked as I landed again. “But it seems that’s not the only thing you’ve lost.” I said noticing his most of his blood red hair was either missing or burned. I heard more rustling to my right. On instinct, I swung my pan just as a Doberman Pincher hurled its self at me. It yelped in pain and fell to the ground with a sickening thud. “You little brat!” Allister shouted in rage as he drew his gun. In one fluid movement, I grabbed my pack, and used the monster’s chest as a spring bored to take off into the afternoon sky. “So long Monster. You won’t be missed!” I taunted as Allister stumbled to his feet. The wind felt so amazing as it flowed through my feathers, and the day seemed as bright as I felt. BANG! Pain shot through my leg. “You son of a biscuit!” I shouted as I glared down at the monster. With that, I took off into the clouds faster.

~~~~~~~

When I felt I was at least out sight I dared to glance down at my still stinging leg. To my surprise, it wasn’t completely gushing blood. It only cut the skin and what little it had bled already stopped. “Huh I guess it just grazed me,” I thought as I continued soaring over the countryside. The trees became smaller and smaller as I flew west. I really didn’t have a set destination, I went wherever I wanted, whenever I pleased. Soon the small forest gave way to smaller and dryer trees and then eventually farmlands. Considering I was somewhere in southwestern Tennessee and now I was seeing more of what looked like northeastern Texas, I had to say I was making pretty good time getting nowhere. I checked my water supply and decided I needed a refill. I swooped down closer to look for a river or any source of water really. I landed heavily along the bank of a large rushing river. I knelt down by the edge and unpacked my water bottles as I crouched over the side. I jumped back startled that the reflection I saw wasn’t mine. Staring at me with startled crystal blue eyes, and messy midnight black hair, was a teenage boy. I looked behind me, but of course no one was there. I looked back at water and the boys face relaxed along with mine. He or I guess I should I let out a sigh of relief. Sad blue eyes stared back at me as I filled my water bottles. Unlike when I usually shift, I knew the boy I looked like, and it broke my heart to see his face again. Skyler, was the best friend a girl could ask for. He was always there when I needed him and kept me out of trouble. Little did I know he turned out to be something like an agent in training. I still don’t fully understand what he did. Anyways, the Monster wanted to kill Skyler along with the other agents like him, and anyone related to them in anyway. That’s how I got dragged into this mess. Allister came after us one day when we went to an amusement park. He posed as a park security officer and accused Skyler and me of vandalizing the park in order to get us out of the public eye. As soon as we were out of sight he pulled out his gun, shot Skyler in the back, and kidnapped me in chaos that unleashed through the gunfire. For a month, I was held captive, tested on and relived Skyler’s final moments. Allister said the experiments were to unlock mankind’s true potential, when in reality he wanted to watch me suffer. Not long after I was changed into the body-morphing freak I am today, some kind of tremor rocked the entire laboratory. Allister cursed at his monitoring system just as the doors to the room were blown open. There stood Skyler gun in hand, ready to shoot the Monster. The next thing I knew I was running for my life as the building went into emergency lockdown and slowly counted down the seconds I had left. I made it out in time, while the explosion threw Skyler violently from the exit. It was there as he laid dying in my arms that I finally believed him when he said he loved me. I shook my head trying to clear my thoughts, as I continued refilling my water. I closed my eyes and concentrated on trying to look like my self again. Slowly but surely I felt my long hair grow back and my body turn smaller. I looked back in the river and saw a worn out, puffy brown eyed, beaten down, long black haired teen-aged girl. “Back normal,” I thought with relief. I looked up at the sky as the last fingers of sunlight stretched across the horizon. I debated staying there near the river, but it still felt too close to where Allister found me this morning. So it was a race against time to get nowhere fast. Again I took off soaring into the sun set, I could feel the wind pick up and it brought the smell of rain with it. I started to panic slightly. I had never flown in the rain and with night falling I really didn’t want to get caught in it. The clouds began to darken as I kept flying, yet some how I had the bright idea to keep going the same direction. Lightning flashed across the purple orange sky, and my wings caught the now raging wind. “That’s it I need to find shelter,” I thought finally. I looked down and saw nothing that looked like it could protect me from the storm. A small strip of grey caught my eye as it snaked its way through the countryside. I dove down to get a better look at the highway, and that’s when I saw it. I deep red Chevy truck flying down the road. I don’t know why but that particular truck called out to me. It had two covers on the tailgate, so the gap was just big enough for me to climb into, and that’s exactly what I did. No sooner had I crawled under the protection of the tailgate covers did the rain start coming down. “Thank God I found this just in time,” I thought very relieved. Slowly I let the steady rumble of the trucks engine put me to sleep.

~~~~~

“Hey! Hey, kid wake up! Darn it kid wake up, people are gonna think I kidnapped you or something!” A strong girl’s voice yelled at me as she pulled my legs over the edge of the tailgate. “Ouch!” I yelped in pain when she hit my wounded calf. I flinched back when my eyes flew open to a harsh glaring afternoon sun. “Good you’re up. Now get out of my truck.” The girl said sharply. She looked a little older than me, at least nineteen maybe twenty. Her brown hair fell in light layers to her shoulders, and her brown eyes seemed to be analyzing everything at once. She looked frustrated but there was a hint of sympathy in her stern face. “Where am I?” I asked rubbing the sleep from eyes. “At a gas station in Roswell, New Mexico kid.” She said flatly and unsurprised. “How the heck did you get in the back of my truck?” She asked part of her southern accent showing through. “Well one, stop calling me kid. I’m sixteen and you’re what nineteen? Twenty? You’re still pretty much a kid still if you’re calling me kid. Second it doesn’t matter, I’ll get out of your hair now. Thanks for the lift.” I said jumping down from the truck. The girl looked at me with serious eyes, trying to figure me out. “What’s your name kid?” I didn’t answer “When’s the last time you ate some thing?” “Yesterday morning.” “Geez what’ve you been eating? Your as thin as a tooth pick!” She said looking me over her eyes softening the tiniest bit. I shrugged I wasn’t going to argue I figured I looked pretty bad and sick. “Okay kid here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to buy you some food and then get you to a phone or police station so you can call your parents. Okay?” she said leaving no room for debate. “Come on I think you might like a hot dog from here or something.” “Mae” I said quietly hopping out of the truck and trying unsuccessfully to hid my wings. “What did you–?” She stuttered when she saw my wings. “My names Mae. Not kid.” I said stubbornly ignoring the stares as we walked to the gas station convenient store. “What’s yours?” I asked not looking at her. “Andrea Wayne. What’s your last name I need it for when I drop you off.” I stayed quiet for a long time. “Kyle.” I finally said. I needed the food but I didn’t want Andrea to take me back. Sure she thought she was doing something good, but as soon as we paid I planed on running away. But when we walked out I some how couldn’t find the strength to do it. Andrea was the first person in a year to show me any kind of kindness and if I’m being honest I really didn’t want her to go. We climbed in her truck, then ate lunch in silence. There was something calming about eating lunch with a total stranger. Once Andrea finished she started the truck and started down the road. I couldn’t help it, tears started rolling down my face. I couldn’t believe what was happening. All year I didn’t cry, and now I felt like I was about to have a mental break down in front of a complete stranger. Andrea noticed but didn’t say anything at first. “Happy to go home Mae?” She questioned. She seemed to know already but I guess she felt she still needed to ask. “No. Not really. I don’t want to go back.” I said tears streaming down my face, yet some how my voice was even. For some reason I just started unleashing everything on Andrea. Everything I had kept bottled up over the last year. “I know it probably sounds weird, but I don’t want to go. Everyone back home looks at me like I’m a monster. I don’t know if you noticed but I have huge bird wings on my back!” I started almost yelling now. Andrea didn’t flinch, her steady eyes stayed on the road, while she absorbed everything I’ve told her. “I cant go back. He’ll find me. He’ll hurt my family, friends, heck he might even kill you now just for helping me!” “Hey, its okay Mae. Its okay.” Andrea said in a soft voice. She turned to look at me, her eyes growing wide with shock, then she quickly recovered. “Did I forget to mention that I’m a shape shifting freak?” I smiled through my tears. “What do I look like?” I asked taking a glance at the side mirror. It didn’t surprise me when the face I saw was Andrea’s. I looked just like her only I seemed more fragile, and broken. I concentrated on my own looks and gradually I began to look like my self again. “Mae, I wont take you back if that’s really what you want. But I wont have you flying all over the country like some wild child. I also don’t think I could live with myself if I let you do that and who ever is after you gets a hold of you. You can stay with me, but you have to tell me everything that’s happened. I mean everything.” Andrea said staring at the open road. “Okay,” I sighed. “But get ready for long story.” I told her everything. She said she wanted the whole story and that’s what she got. Everything from meeting Skyler, to finding out he was an agent, when I got kidnapped, the experiments, to Skyler dying in my arms. I told her about how when I got home my family kind of pushed me to the side, how alone I felt, how everyday reporters would swarm my house interrogating me about my life and the kidnapping. I told her how I couldn’t take it any more, how trapped I felt. I told her about what happened the morning before I met her how I wound up in the back of her truck. If something freaked her out, she didn’t show it. She seemed totally calm as I explained everything her only comment was, “When we stop for the night I need to bandage your leg, other wise it’ll get infected.” It was only six o’clock, but we still stopped when we made it to Albuquerque. Andrea pulled into some dinky little hotel and told me to wait in the truck. Five minutes later, she came back with a triumphant smile and keys to room in her hand. I grabbed my pack and followed Andrea to the room. “Hey how did do you feel about pizza for dinner?” she asked looking at small plastic menu. “They have room service here?” I said in disbelief. “I know right! So I’ll take that as a yes.” She said laughing. It seemed like Andrea was really starting to open up to me. “Dude when’s the last time you’ve had a shower?” She said as she walked passed me to get the phone. “Uhhh.” I stuttered. The only thing I was able to do was swim in rivers and I wasn’t about to do that without clothes. “Like a shower, shower, or like a dump freezing river water on my self shower.” I laughed. “You nasty go take a shower!” Andrea laughed throwing a towel at me. I caught the towel and got my stuff together. “What about my leg?” I asked a little bit worried. “Oh yeah let me take a look.” She said grabbing a small black pouch. “Okay looks like that bullet just barely scraped you. Lucky too, if it would’ve gone through it may have punctured your main vein that runs through there. What kind of gun was it?” she said as she cleaned it up. “I’m not sure. Just looked like a hand gun.” I said wincing. “Mhmm. Well this is interesting….” She mumbled as she took a better look at the small gash. “Are you studying to become a doctor?” I asked curious. She laughed lightly as if the thought of her being a doctor was amusing. “No. I’m actually a mercenary.” She looked up at me with careful eyes, studying my reaction. “But I won’t work for someone who wants their enemies dead. I might be good with a gun but that doesn’t mean like using it. I have almost all of my guns rigged with tranquilizers. No real bullets. You can call me a crook, a thief, a bandit, what ever other names they have for robbers, but I wont ever be called a murderer. I’ll steal and rob, but I’m not going to take someone’s life. That’s not my choice.” She said still looking at my wound. Her calm face turned confused then concerned, then calm again. Something was up. “What’s wrong?” I asked panic started to rise in chest. “Nothing. You should be okay now. Just make sure you clean it good when you take your shower.” She said not meeting my eyes. “Okay if you say so.” I said panicking slightly and went to the bathroom. By the time I got out I heard Andrea’s muffled steady voice coming from the main room. It sounded like she was talking on the phone. I assumed she was ordering the pizza but then as I listened closer she sounded pissed. “How did you get this number...........Like I’m gonna believe that trash. No, why should I? I don’t care…..how much? I don’t know…..I’ll think about it. But I swear if you ever call this number again, you’ll be sorry.” Andrea said sternly. As I stepped out of the bathroom she hung up the phone. Before I could ask who it was she took out the battery, crushed the SD card, opened the door and threw the phone out side. “What did you do that for?” I asked cautiously. “That freak scientist guy freaken called me. He some how knew you were with me and got my number. He could use it to track us.” Andrea said quickly. She scanned the room abruptly then her head snapped to my injured leg. “Mae let me see your leg!” she demanded. “What’s wrong?” I asked panic flooding through me. “Darn it! I knew the cut looked off!” Andrea said inspecting my leg. She looked me dead in the eyes when she spoke again. “Mae the reason that graze hurt so much was because the bullet didn’t just scrape the skin. You were actually hit, but not with a bullet. It was a tracking devise! Mae we have to go now!” Andrea said urgently. She was already getting up and packing her things. “Why should I trust you? You’re a mercenary right? You steal to get paid. How do I know that you’re not just going to hand me over to Allister. Give me one good reason why I should trust you!” I demanded angrily. Andrea looked defeated, as if she knew that was coming. The sad look on her face confirmed my suspicions until she said, “Because I’m your only chance Mae. I know what you’re going through. Of course you probably already figured I’m running too.” She looked me straight in the eyes daring me to question her. “I was raised by crazed uncle who wanted to see the world crumble. He trained me to kill. He trained me to be his personal weapon. I was too blind to see that and now I’m stuck in this mess. I’ve tried to come clean countless times, and every time I just fell into the same routine. Heck, when you flew into the back of my truck I was just running my former boss, who was also my boy friend. When I found you in the tailgate, I was just going to let you go on your way. But when I looked at you I saw something. I saw someone scared, and worried, yet a fighter. I saw my self. I saw a girl not only running for her life but also running from herself. And I knew I had to help you.” She finished hanging her head “I’m sorry.” I said packing up my gear. “Its okay. I figured sooner or later we’d have that discussion.” She smiled weakly then added, “The pizza should be here any sec—“ A knock at the door cut her off. “Who is it?” Andrea said eyeing the door. “Pizza guy.” A deep muffled voice said from the other side of the door. Andrea slowly opened the door. A lean guy stood in the door way his baseball cap covering his eyes. He looked at Andrea then at me. His cold dark eyes seemed to stare right through me. A flash of recognition flickered across face. I didn’t think when I kicked him out the door. His hat fell off revealing singed red hair. “Allister!” I growled. “Mae my dear, nice to see you too.” He said coldly as he stumbled into the parking lot. I stepped out side ready make a run for it. Andrea stayed near the door gun in hand ready to fire. Allister saw this and smiled evilly. “Andrea, have you had a chance to think over my offer?” he said pulling out a stack of cash. “Yes I did, and decided only a sicko would work for a monster like you.” She spat angrily. “Oh such a shame.” He pulled out a small remote and the room exploded throwing Andrea through the air. She landed hard on the ground and didn’t move. Knots formed in my stomach. “Another person is dead because of me,” I thought in despair. I stared at Andrea’s limp body as she laid motionless. “Andrea get up!” I yelled desperately as I felt a tug in my arm. “Now Mae, how many more people must die before you realize you belong to me?” Allister cackled. I turned to look at him and I spat in his face. “Let go of me you sick monster!” I yelled as I tried to get out of his grip. “You little brat! Its useless to try to escape me! Even with the powers I gave you, you’re still to pathetic to even fight back! You cannot fathom the plans I have for you. Though I don’t know why I would still use you after all the trouble you’ve caused me. Then again I could always erase your memory and then you would comply.” He said angrily. I was running low on options and time. Mind reeling I bit down hard on the Monster’s hand. A salty taste contaminated my mouth when Allister released me. He glared at me with hate-filled eyes and pulled out his gun. “I don’t need you!” he spat. “I can use others! With or without you I will –“ “BANG!” There stood Andrea gun drawn and breathing heavily. She looked pissed and relieved at the same time. I ran up to her before she fell over. “Man that guy just wouldn’t shut up.” She sighed with relief. “Welcome to my world.” I said sarcastically. “Was that a real bullet?” I asked cautiously. Andrea just nodded. My eyes grew wide, “Are you okay? I mean you just killed someone!” I said shocked. “I’m fine. I didn’t shoot a person. I shot a monster,” she said quietly. “Well then, now what do we do? The police have been looking for this guy for ever, and now he’s gone. So where does that put us?” Andrea stayed quiet for a long time. “Well I’m pretty sure we’re still going to have to live on the run, but it also means we have to buy another pizza.”

#Sierra speaks #Sierra writes #My writing #REALLY OLD WRITING #Writing through the decade #Baby me had a lot strange ways to end stories

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melodramatic-since-birth-blog · 6 years

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1.14.18 7:49pm

Is it paranoia if it's true? I don't know if my beliefs are conspiracies if they're based in reality. I'm not well liked I imagine. Not by many. And that's okay, sorta. I think it's a reflection of the golden rule, treating others how you want to be treated. I think I should stop trying to be an extrovert. It doesn't work well for me. I try to know all these people I rock climb with and they're all really nice and I like them. But I forget their names. And constantly asking somebody what their name is is probably pretty rude because it seems that they don't matter enough for me to remember. And if someone constantly acted like they knew me but couldn't remember more than my face and snippets of conversation, I probably wouldn't like them. I suppose. I guess that's it, isn't it. And I don't have much to talk about except banter. Rock climbing isn't a personality and neither is trumpet. My job isn't me and neither is my home. I've been "focusing on me" but I haven't really developed. I try to be nice, but it's not necessarily intuitive. It takes work, yanno? And it's easier to let things fade than maintain. So I should stop bitching about failed friendships and failed overtures to people. I'm no good at reaching out and connecting. Not really. And I'm sorry, Lincoln. It wasn't right to just throw out your sister's mental health in conversation. It meant a lot to me though. Especially at the time. Justin Darwin Dapesh Keenan Mike Nate Charlie Mark Dan Derek Gabe Gabe Paul Brian Simon Quentin Isaac "E-sock" Zach Garret Noah Casey Lincoln Arhem Srijan Shaun/Shawn(?) Dave Aaron - taught me the importance of rotating at the hips when I was just starting out Andre Brian And I forget the older guy's name, he has white gray hair and timeless glasses. Climbs with his son usually and is always very helpful with beta. "This doesn't read like a kid with anxiety." Not always. Sometimes I can ignore it. Depends on what I've been doing to my body. But even when I overhear a little girl say "everybody hates him" part of me knows it's about me because I'm not a good person. Not good enough. Always introducing but never remembering. Wanting to be remembered I guess, but never learning about others. Pretending. Always pretending to know when I'm just lost and alone. And I should be alone. I don't bond well. I was reading The Little Prince and it talked about the importance of taming one to another. But I don't I suppose. I'm bad at friendship. I want to get better. But the only book I read on it showed me how to talk to people and I've forgotten even that. Win friends and influence people. Doesn't teach you to develop a relationship. And I like to feel wanted. Who doesn't? But I'm just a bundle of repetitive phrases. "I'm so jealous" "why are you such an animal?" "Dying a little *haha*" I'm sorry. Maybe I should just talk less. Is it too late to retract every hello and every introduction? Is it too late to close out the world because I suck at interacting with it? I should keep my music in. Smile more. Say less. I'm a bundle of angst at 21. It's stupid. And I forgot the names of the other two guys I saw today even. Didn't greet them by name because, yes. Yes I fucking forgot. And they know it. And I know it. And I know there's plenty more that I see and can't remember more than their face. I'm sorry. You're right. I've met more people than I remember. I wish I knew all your names but I know it's annoying to constantly remind me of your name just to have me forget it again. And Nick and Tyler. I could have sworn Darwin gave me a different name. I don't know. I have no confidence in my memory. Or at least not a lot. I look at a girl's Instagram and she messages me a few days later? Either God works in mysterious ways or someone is watching me tap this out before I even post it. But who would even care what I'm up to? Who would go to such lengths to fuck with me? Give me a sense of divine karma? Is this justice for all of the assholery I've done? I try to ignore it. I try not to look for patterns in the random sequences of life but I see them. I can't ignore it all. Jacob daggs with the free beer before I go-to drive? Uh huh. Accidental. And I got the hint of inviting everyone over and I'm glad I did because it seemed like people had a good time. I wish it were intuitive for me to just offer it. Maybe I really am Bipolar 2 w/ psychotic features. Maybe the doctor just gave me an excuse. The medication worked when I was taking it. I don't want to be medicated. I don't want there to be anything truly wrong with me. At the same time, something tells me I'm really not quite normal. Maybe it's the intensity from happy to numb. Maybe it's the melodramatic affect in general that I just can't shake completely. Just like I can't stop talking out loud when I'm alone. Something tells me someone is listening on the other end. I don't know who. I don't know why. But everything I monologue seems to come up again from someone else. Nobody can read my thoughts but you don't have to if you're listening to my private ramblings, right? You. Capital y for the unidentified listener(s). Maybe the hippies are right. What you project into the universe, you attract. But that's scientific bullshit isn't it? Who knows. Some days in content with mediocrity. Some days I aspire for greatness. Some days I Google the cost of a helium tank and a breathing mask, or just how many times you loop a hangman knot. I wish I didn't realize death. I know it's selfish. But would I be missed or would I be treated with angry indifference? I have everything handed to me. I'm a spoiled shit with a blessed life and I couldn't sack it up and keep living. Every life worse than mine and I couldn't just accept my lot, my blessed fortunate lot in life? Autumn told me every problem I have is of my own making and as per usual, she's right. So I'm sorry for my self-sabotaging behaviors. I could go on apologizing all night. It wouldn't change much. These are words. No one cares about words. I'm full of them. They don't mean anything. They don't prove anything. And most importantly, they don't change anything. I should stay single. Ashley is right. I'm not ready for a relationship. I can't practice love on someone and fuck up another heart even for a while. Nobody deserves that. Just horny and lonely. I'll tell myself that till it's true. I'll tell myself I'm not dissapointed when I don't fall in love with a tinder match. That I'm not dissapointed when I overshare and come across as desperate for love as I am. I want to know someone and be known by them in turn. But I don't know how to have a mature relationship apparently. So. Forget it. I'll pour myself into me. My music. My writing. My health. Me me me. Mine mine mine. I can't reach out right and I'm tired of reaching out wrong. You don't have to bottle emotions. There are other ways to share them than conversation. I don't have to talk it out. When I learn music theory, I'll put it all there. Just like I'm putting it here in the words on this page. When I freestyle and sometimes it isn't just words that rhyme, it's what I think and how I feel. When I workout and condense it into rage, frustration, and a healthy dose of adrenaline to just empty myself of the energy to feel anything other than endorphins. I'm not tired of living yet. I can't be. I won't be. This disease, if I really have it, is cyclical. I'll feel on top of the world eventually. And I'm sure I'll be under it on a different day. Maybe a week. I'll try harder to leave high school in the past. It'll be easier when I get to university, either wayne or gv, or wherever I get accepted. Hopefully. Not that I'm ungrateful for my friends. You guys are my foundation. I just. I don't feel like I've grown. Or will if this pattern persists. I don't want to cut more people out. But it feels inevitable. I can't maintain friendships. I'm sorry. It's why I'm better off alone. Maybe I'll write something worth remembering. One day, when I get there. If I ever do. I hope I look back and laugh. But life is an uphill battle, isn't it? And we all know I quit frequently. I should talk to someone but. This will do. Part of me says it's the same thing. Part of me says I'm surrounded by people who love me. Another part says that's a lie. I guess I just have to love me. But it's hard when you have to love a piece of shit until they turn into something better. Apparently I can't love anyone until I love myself. But even when I do I feel like I'm doing it wrong. Either too much or too little. How many of you are trying to help me? How many are trying to lead me astray? I don't trust many of you. I don't. Drunk Jerry says he loves me. But why? Because you've known me a long time? I guess that counts. I don't know who has my best interests at heart when they're "looking out for me". Cristen. Cristen does. She hasn't guided me wrong yet. I wish I weren't this emotional. But emotions are good I guess. Proves I'm not truly as heartless as I sometimes seem, right? Anyways. Idk. I should stop here. I've said more than enough for quite a long time and most of it boils down to the same things I've always said. Probably why she got tired of me. Because I can't seem to grow up and just handle it. In sorry. I'll stop. That's all I guess. I look forward to seeing how the web ties back. Spiders and web weavers. Show me the silk strands so I know someone is listening. I promise not to lose my mind completely this time.

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