#am I within deadline? barely

[bllbabaggins]

Writing is a stupid hobby why couldn’t I have hyperfixated on like. Photography or graphic design or some other skill that I could monetize more easily

[kp-alice]

The Fall of the Undefeated One

Summary: Your boss is the epitome of a workplace bully, pressuring everyone to work overtime even through sick days and family emergencies. Most infuriatingly, though, no one has ever dared to go against him - until now, that is.

AKA blackmailed boss!sub!Yunho x sadistic!dom!f!reader

Word count: 5 505

Warnings: While I made it obvious multiple times that this is all roleplay, I still want to give a huge warning for !!!!!CNC!!!!!, blackmailing, forced feminization, pegging, taking photos during sex, crying, begging and just resisting in general (though Yunho is just pretending obv), blowjobs (f rec), Yunho gets slapped once, checking in on each other mid-scene, some pretty dark dialogue (esp at the end)

A/N: This fic is the fifth part of my sub!Yunho Kinktober 2024! The event's masterlist can be found here.

"So you're absolutely, totally, one hundred percent sure you want to do this?"

"I've only told you like fifty times but yes, I am definitely, completely, one thousand percent sure."

"And you'll tell me if you want to stop?"

"Just like you'll tell me if you want to stop."

"Alright, then. See you next Friday, 'boss'."

You were sitting in your office, checking various reports and scheduling meetings for next week as usual. As Mr. Jeong's secretary, you had your own office instead of sharing a cubicle with other employees. It didn't stop you from chatting with them during lunch break, however, which led you to some very interesting information.

Contrary to your initial belief, it wasn't just you who your boss decided to be extra stern towards. As you quickly realized, the entire department was permanently overworked and underpaid, all thanks to the one man at the top. And the most infuriating thing about it all? No one dared to stand up against him. Even if they were living off 3 hours of sleep every day, even if they were denied holiday to visit their families in a dire situation, everyone just hung their heads low and obliged. The company had an incredible reputation, after all, and nobody wanted to lose a chance to write it down in their resume during their next hunt for a job. And even if someone did decide to stand up for themselves, all it took was the smallest, vaguest threat from Mr. Jeong about how other hiring companies would hear about this behavior and all protests would immediately cease.

There was nothing you could do about it, either. All you could do was just watch on as the bullying went on, shaking your head in quiet disappointment.

Until you'd also been wronged by your boss.

"What do you mean, 'paid overtime'?" Mr. Jeong mocked you right to your face. "What you call overtime, I call the bare minimum, sweetheart. I don't care if your mother is sick or your rent is past due, you only get paid for the work you've done, no charity. If you think this is too much for you, feel free to leave anytime. Don't expect to be hired anywhere else, though, every reputable company around here would love to hear my opinion on your performance before hiring you."

You were stunned, rage quietly boiling within at the audacity of the asshole in front of you. Every day for the past month and a half, because of his impossible demands, you'd been working two to four hours extra just to meet each deadline. You barely had time to sleep, let alone actually live your own life and talk to friends and family, and this is how he decided to treat you?

"Glad we settled that, then. Now go make yourself useful and bring me those copies from yesterday's meeting, will you?"

That day, you decided that your boss, Mr. Jeong Yunho himself, would pay dearly; both for what he'd done to you and to the other workers.

For the next three weeks, you dug through every file and article you could find in the office and online, desperately searching for anything big you could use against him. And, by some miracle, you found one. A real big one, in fact.

This was it. You had him in the palm of your hand, even if he didn't know it yet.

A knock came at your door, making you look up from the report you were currently working on.

"I expect to hear a very good reason for coming here right this instant, Miss L/N," was the first thing he said as he walked into the room, visibly angered. God forbid he had to approach someone for once instead of everyone crawling to him.

"Oh, don't worry Mr. Jeong, I'm sure you'll find what I'm about to tell you very interesting," you smirked as you spoke, gesturing for him to sit down on the small couch near your desk.

"Get to it then, darling, I really don't have time for this," Mr. Jeong commanded, yet again slipping a condescending pet name in to try and throw you off. Typical.

It wasn't you who was surprised, however, when you suddenly stood up, walked over to the door, and locked it. "Be patient, Jeong. If you don't want to fuck up any more than you already have, I suggest you behave yourself."

His mouth hung open, fully taken aback by this new attitude of yours. Perhaps you had a death wish, speaking to him like that, or maybe, you had just gone completely insane. Either way, he was excited to show you why you should never, ever, do that again.

But before he could say anything, you were already back at your desk, turning your laptop to face him.

"As your hard-working and thorough secretary, I've gone back on some reports and files from this year, and you'll never believe what I found!" You said with fake excitement, eyes shining. "If you look really closely, you can see each worker's salary, and then here is the amount of money they should have actually been given each month according to the government-mandated minimum wage. Care to explain why those numbers are vastly different and why none of us were notified about a raise in salary, Mr. Jeong?"

Yunho's eyes widened as he scanned the document, recognizing the spreadsheet he'd secretly made for himself to keep track of all the cuts he'd been taking from everyone's salaries. He could have sworn he'd kept the file fully private, likely even password-protected, yet, somehow, you'd managed to get your hands on it.

"Why are you- how did you get that?!" He finally said, trying to suppress the sudden anxiety churning his stomach. "Those are private files and you have no right to be looking through them! Go pack your things immediately, because you are fired - and I'm being very merciful with that decision."

"Oh, if only it was that simple, Jeong," you replied cunningly. "You can fire me all you want, but once these files go public, your reputation, company, and maybe even life will be over, I'm afraid. And we wouldn't want that now, would we?"

Yunho gritted his teeth, looking down as he considered his options.

"...Alright. What do you want me to do?"

Despite your best efforts, you barked out a laugh at his question, too amused by the cold facade he was still fighting so hard to keep. "There we go, finally on the right path! You're not the one making demands here, Jeong, I am. If you want to preserve everything you've managed to build so far, you better start listening to me and me only."

Yunho let out a deep, frustrated sigh, refusing to admit you were right. If any of this information were to get out into the public, his entire professional life would be over in an instant. Just as you'd said, he was completely at your mercy right now.

"Well, what do you want then? Money? A promotion? A transfer to a different company? What?"

"Strip."

...

Yunho's entire world paused the second you'd said it, freezing him in place. He had to have heard you wrong, right? There was simply no way you could have said something like that to someone like him.

"W-what?"

You let out a sigh yourself, frustrated with how uncooperative your superior was being. This was the guy demanding Herculean tasks from his subordinates on a daily basis?

"I said strip, Jeong."

His breath hitched at your angry tone, chest tightening to an almost painful degree.

"Y-you can't be serious, there's no way that-"

"What part of 'I can ruin your entire career in seconds' did you not understand?" You spat, sending a shiver down Yunho's spine. "The company or your pride, your choice."

A heavy silence hung in the air for an uncomfortably long time, turning Yunho's cheeks a deep red. He didn't know what was worse - the fact he was actually considering doing it or the fact that you knew he was considering it, judging by his lack of a response.

"...How much?"

You looked at him in confusion, swinging one leg over the other before leaning closer to his nervous form. He was clearly nervous, playing with his fingers, one leg bouncing up and down.

"'How much' what?" You finally asked back.

"How much do I have to take off?"

You snorted at the question, making him look up into your eyes. "What do you think, Jeong? Just stand up and start undressing; I'll tell you when to stop."

Yunho gulped at your words, eyes shaking. Never in your years of dating had he seen such a cold, sadistic expression on your face. Somehow, it was both incredibly intimidating and extremely arousing.

Trying his best to ignore his trembling hands, he stood up on two weak legs and reached for his suit jacket. A whimper threatened to spill past his lips as he finally undid the first button, feeling like he could just break down and cry right now from the overwhelming humiliation.

"Oh my god," you marveled, leaning back to enjoy the show, "you're actually doing it! And here I was worried I'd have to threaten you with something even bigger, yet all it took was a few words and you're already doing whatever I say."

"You know very well it's not just a 'few words'!" Yunho hissed indignantly. "If my entire future didn't depend on this, I would never-"

"Shut the fuck up and do as you're told before I get angry, Jeong," you growled back, making him immediately back down again. His hands were visibly shaking now, eliciting a few quiet curses from him as he struggled with the remaining button.

At last, he was able to get the garment off, looking at you to see if he could stop now. But your expression remained stoic, leaving him with no other choice.

Tears of humiliation stung in his eyes as he began working on his shirt but he bit them back, absolutely refusing to cry in front of you. Soon, the shirt joined his discarded suit jacket on the floor.

"Wow," you said appreciatively, unabashedly ogling his chest. "Who would have thought the office asshole had such nice tits. This is even more fun than I had imagined."

It took every ounce of willpower in him not to react to your comment, desperately wanting to but knowing it would just make everything so much worse.

"What are you waiting for?" You asked impatiently. "I didn't say you could stop yet, did I?"

"Miss L/N, you can't possibly be serious-"

"What would your family think if they found out how you treat your employees? Your father is a reputable business owner himself, isn't he?"

"I- well, yes, but- fuck," Yunho muttered to himself, trying not to let the growing despair take over. His pristinely ironed pants pooled around his feet before he stepped out of them and gave you one more hopeful look. When he was met with nothing, he sighed, taking off his socks as well before looking up again. Surely, this had to be enough, right? Right?

Silence.

Yunho's hands shook at the realization of what the silence implied, unable to bring himself to remove the last piece of clothing he still had on. Your gaze on him was unwavering, watching his every move and expression like a hawk ready to swoop in.

Which is why you also noticed the signs of genuine anxiety in him very quickly.

"What's your color, Jeong?" You asked as neutrally as you could, not wanting to fully break the scene but still wanting to check in on him.

"Green, it's green, I just-" Yunho took a deep, shaky breath, balling his fists by his sides, "I just can't get my hands to listen to me, I'm sorry."

"Listen, Jeong," you began, standing up to approach your shaking lover. "I'm going to be very generous right now and take it off for you, okay? But you can't expect me to help you with everything you're the one in trouble. Understood?"

Yunho gave you a quick, thankful nod, lips pressed into a thin line as he watched your fingers slip under the waistband of his underwear. Then, in one swift motion, you tugged the garment down, leaving him completely bare in front of you.

"There you go," you whispered softly, stepping back to admire the view. Yunho's hands did their best to cover himself but it was not exactly effective, considering your amused face. "What? Feeling shy? Don't worry, sweetheart, I have just the clothes for you."

Yunho was confused by the sudden, surprisingly nice gesture until he saw the clothes in question.

"Go on," you encouraged, shoving the clothes into his arms, "make yourself pretty."

A tear rolled down his eye as he looked at the mix of pink and white, but he quickly turned away and wiped it off, still trying to keep some semblance of dignity.

"Now, Jeong," you began, back in your office chair, one leg crossed over the other, "I'm going to give you a choice. I'm afraid you have no say in what's going to happen next, but you can decide how it will go. Do you want it the easy way, or the hard way, hm?"

Yunho meekly sat on the couch, keeping his hands in his lap to prevent the pink skirt from riding up even higher than it already had. The white thigh highs on his legs didn't do much to keep him warm, sending small shivers up his spine.

"The easy way, please."

"Good boy," you praised him, though there was no actual warmth to your words. "Close your eyes and don't open them until I say so."

Yunho complied, feeling like this was one of the simpler tasks you could have given him, yet it also gave him no clue as to what to expect. He didn't dare think about what might happen, fearing you were going to subvert his expectations anyway.

And subvert them you did.

"Open, Jeong."

Yunho's mouth hung agape as he looked at your hips, fully bare save for the leather harness secured around them. What stood out even more to him, though, and quite literally at that, was the silicone cock fastened to said harness.

"Come over here and get on your knees, if you'd be so kind."

Yunho was yet again frozen solid, unable to process what he was seeing. "I-I'm sorry, but have you gone absolutely insane?"

You chuckled at his incredulous tone, taking a step toward him. "Oh? I thought you just said you wanted to do this the easy way, what's with the attitude?"

"I don't know if you forgot who the fuck I am, L/N," Yunho gritted through his teeth, leaning forward to try and match your tone, "but you better snap out of this power trip right now or-"

"Or what?!" You finally snapped, startling the man back into his seat. "What are you going to do, Jeong? Lose your entire career because you were too proud to be under someone for once? Is that what matters to you the most?"

Yunho panted as he looked at you with nothing but disdain.

Letting out a sigh, you gestured back to your laptop, clicking over to the next tab in your browser. "Since you couldn't play nice, let me up the ante a bit. If you look over here, you can see a few emails that are ready to be sent at any minute. A lot of them, in fact. Wanna know who they're addressed to?"

He stayed silent, refusing to play your disgusting games.

"Don't worry, I'll tell you anyway," you grinned, scrolling down the list. "Here we have each of your family members, every single employee in your company, your 20 biggest competitors, journalists, workplace inspectors, and a few dozen more big contacts. With a single click, they'll all learn the truth within minutes, evidence included."

Yunho's face fell at the sight. "Y-Y/N, Miss Y/N, please..."

"Begging won't change my mind, Jeong," you spat, leaving the tab open as you walked back in front of him, "but actions just might."

Tears once again threatened to spill past his eyes, throat squeezing uncomfortably tight as he suppressed them. He couldn't cry. Not like this, not in front of you.

Swallowing back a whimper, Yunho slowly shuffled forward, all the way to the edge of the couch, before sinking down to the floor. You watched on with a satisfied smirk, lips curling even further up as his eyes met the fake cock in front of him again.

Oh god, he was really going to do this.

Trying to keep his hands as steady as possible, he reached for the strap-on, feeling it under his fingertips before wrapping a hand around the base. Angling the tip to his mouth, Yunho closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh before finally diving forward.

You stared at him in awe as his lips wrapped around the sizable tip, brows furrowing while he tried to push deeper. "There you go, good boy," you praised in a sickly sweet tone, resting one of your hands in his hair. His other hand that wasn't gripping the base of your cock fisted his skirt instead, likely trying to keep his gag reflex at bay while he sunk further down.

When his lips met his own fist, he let his throat rest for a bit, trying to breathe as best as he could despite the big piece of silicone in his mouth. After a few long, uncomfortable seconds, he decided to start moving again, giving a few experimental bobs with his head. On the fourth one, though, he audibly gagged, throat spasming while he quickly dove back up for air. You silently watched as he coughed and gasped for air, leaning to the side with his palms against the floor.

Once he got his breathing under control again, he looked up at you, meeting your gaze for the first time in a while. You smiled back down at him, a genuine smile this time, and used the opportunity to mouth a quick "All good?" to him. His eyes sparkled in excitement as he happily nodded back, calming any potential worries.

A quick tug at his hair was all it took for him to snap back into the scene.

"Did I say you could stop, Jeong? We haven't even gotten to the main course yet."

Just as Yunho began asking what you meant by that, he was shoved back onto the dildo, giving him no more than a second to prepare. You slid back into his mouth with ease, not too deep to make him choke, but deep enough to get his attention again. "Or do I have to show you another incentive to keep going?"

With a small grunt, Yunho shook his head as best as he could given his position and got back to work. He made sure you saw as he diligently sucked on the tip, swirling his tongue around it before pushing further down. If he had no choice but to do this, he might as well get it over with. Soon enough, he could almost take the whole thing in his mouth. You caressed his hair gently, a small show of praise that wouldn't break the scene too much.

The hand in his hair quickly turned more domineering, however, as you suddenly tightly clutched the strands, warning him of what was likely to come.

His prediction turned out to be spot-on as you began to pull him back up by his hair, only to push him back down again and start all over. Yunho could do nothing but let you move him as you wanted, desperately willing his lungs and throat to calm down so that he wouldn't choke again. Or too badly, at least.

Small, wet sounds filled the room as you moved him up and down on the strap-on, using both hands now to steady his head while you picked up the pace. A tear or two rolled down his cheeks this time, but you knew it was no reason to celebrate just yet. These were just a natural response to you fucking his throat, not a sign of you actually breaking him.

That would have to come later, it seemed.

"On the couch," you ordered curtly, pulling him off you at once. He was left hunched over, face bright red and lungs heaving for air.

Once your words finally registered for him, he willed his limbs to move again, crawling up on the couch. You wasted no time with him anymore, manhandling him into the desired position.

As much as he hated to admit it, Yunho's fight was faltering. His tightly clenched jaw had relaxed, giving way to the tired pants leaving his body. All snarky remarks and threats were long gone, his head too much of a muddy mess to come up with anything smart to say. You could feel it too, how much more pliant he'd grown under your touch, letting you press his upper half into the couch cushions.

When he heard the click of a bottle cap opening, some of that fight rushed back, only to leave just as quickly with a single reminder from you about what was at stake for him.

Yunho let out a quiet grunt as a finger breached him from behind, still hell-bent on hiding his reactions from you. He knew you'd revel in it, in every moan and beg and whimper, which is exactly why he could never give any of it to you. Until that dam broke, he could pretend he still had some dignity left.

"I advise you to relax as much as you can, Jeong," you spoke softly, burying your finger inside of him to the last knuckle before pulling back again, "otherwise this is going to hurt quite a bit."

"You're sick," Yunho spat back but quickly shut up again as you pressed in a second finger, causing a whine to almost push past his lips.

"So? What are you gonna do about it?" You asked back. The satisfaction within you only grew when he had nothing to say to that, too scared to admit the truth.

So far, Yunho was faring quite well. The biggest sign of this having even the slightest effect on him was how hard he was gripping the couch cushions, but that was about it. And it was exactly because of that that you began to grow bored.

Time to make him speak up.

Curling your fingers, you began angling your hand this way and that way, until-

"Fuck!" Yunho cried out, involuntarily clenching around your hand. You watched as his thighs quivered and his back arched, trying to simultaneously push back against you and fight the urge to do so at all costs.

"What was that?" You taunted, focusing on that specific spot you'd found while your other hand roamed along his hip. "Is someone starting to enjoy themselves? And here I thought I was the sick one?"

"Shut- ah! Shut the fuck up!" Yunho moaned out, eyes tightly shut as he tried to fight the onslaught of pleasure. He knew he couldn't help it, that it was just his body's natural reaction to being stimulated, and yet, he couldn't help but feel betrayed by it as well. He fought so hard to keep any and all noises at bay, only to then completely crumble without any say in the matter.

Then, without warning, your fingers pulled out of him, leaving him empty and clenching around nothing. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to get up, to run far away from whatever the fuck this was, yet his mind knew very well it would be of no use. Not when your hand was back on his hip again, bringing his ass closer as you poured more lube over his hole.

"Hmm, no, this won't do," you thought out loud, looking at the way Yunho was presenting for you.

In the blink of an eye, he was flipped on his back, legs forced apart to accommodate you between them. Your strap was now peeking at him from behind his own half-hard cock, making his cheeks heat up. How was that thing bigger than he was? Moreover, what the hell were you planning to do with it?

"Say cheese!"

A bright light flashed into Yunho's eyes, making them squint in discomfort. When they managed to refocus, however, he was met with a sight somehow even more horrifying than all the evidence on your laptop.

A camera.

You were holding a camera and taking photos of him with it. Photos of him in a state like this.

"W-what are you- what?" Yunho stumbled out, voice laced with genuine horror.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Jeong?" You asked back, flipping his skirt up to show his prepped and needy hole. Another click and a flash of light.

The third snap finally managed to break him out of his trance, and his hand immediately shot up to grab your wrist.

"Ow! What the-" You hissed out in pain, almost dropping the camera to the ground. "That shit's expensive, you idiot!"

Yunho either didn't hear your words or simply ignored them, too busy trying to wrestle the camera from your hand. Doing sexual favors for you to save his business was one thing, he was already too deep in to stop that, but this? Oh, no, no no no, he was not going to just let you get even more dirt on him. Sure, he might have sold his body today to try and save his career, but he was NOT letting you trap him into a vicious cycle of blackmailing. He knew exactly how these things went, he knew you wouldn't be satisfied with just today, he knew you'd just keep demanding more and more from him and that-

A sharp sting dug into his cheek, the force of the slap turning his head to the side.

"I fucking told you to let go!"

The tight grip on your wrist eased up as you broke Yunho out of his spiral, preventing him from getting too deep into whatever inner chaos he tried to enter. His confused eyes met yours, studying your stern expression for a moment before he settled back into the scene, giving you a small nod as a sign to keep going.

"Before you try any of that shit again, I'll have you know that all of the photos I take on this are automatically backed up on my laptop. Breaking it does nothing except piss me off even further, and I don't think you want that, sweetheart."

Your hand slid up to grab his face, squishing his cheeks together.

"Now just accept your fate and let me take my pictures, hm? I don't think you want these to end up on the news tomorrow."

Yunho had no words left. No matter how his mind tried to twist this, there was no lie left that would convince him he had any sort of upper hand in this scenario. From the moment he walked into your office, his fate was sealed. Unlike everywhere else in his life, he didn't hold any power here. No amount of threats or intimidation could ever get him out of your grasp unless you yourself decided to let him go. He was yours to do with as you pleased.

All of those thoughts swirled around in his head as he lay under you, dressed like a girl, his entire body on display while you took as many photos as you wanted. He almost started to leave his body for a second, feeling too helpless to stay present in the moment any longer, but the feeling of cold, wet silicone pressing against him stopped him from doing so.

"Please..." Yunho said so quietly you almost didn't hear it, but it made you smile nonetheless.

"Please what, Jeong?"

Yunho took a deep breath but choked on it midway through as, finally, the first real tears spilled down his cheeks.

"Please don't do this, please."

Your pupils blew wide open at the sight before you, feeling a sudden high you'd never felt before. He - your boyfriend, the man everyone knew as a strong, independent, reliable guy, was now crying under you, lips trembling as he begged with a wobbly voice. Thanks to all the reassurances throughout the scene and the obvious hard-on between his legs, you didn't have to worry about his comfort or safety, letting you truly focus on the mental rush you were currently experiencing. The insane amount of trust between you felt almost palpable in that moment, an indescribable wave of tenderness so twisted yet so sweet it was almost overwhelming.

"Just let it happen, Jeong," you finally breathed out, eyes lidded as you reached down between the two of you. "Just let go and take it."

Yunho let out a watery whimper as you finally breached him with your strap, not caring to hide his noises anymore. He had nothing more to lose, after all.

The atmosphere shifted into something more quiet and subdued, yet simultaneously a thousand times more intense. Just like him, you had no more condescending comments and mean remarks left in you as everything had already been said.

Yunho was yours for the taking, and take you did.

With each snap of your hips, you pushed him further into that soft, pliant headspace of his. You could feel his muscles relax, going almost limp from the rush of it all. There was nothing in his head anymore, nothing but the physical sensations you were providing. More tears escaped his eyes as you leaned closer, hitting that sweet spot inside him with even more precision. Yunho rewarded each jab at his prostate with a small, punched-out noise, too hazy for anything more than that.

You watched his hips buck up when you wrapped your free hand around him, the other pulling him towards your thrusts by his hip. His breath hitched at the sensation, face scrunching up as you began to stroke up and down.

"Ready to cum, babe?" You whispered tenderly, causing him to open his eyes again.

"Yes, please," Yunho sniffled weakly, reaching up to grasp your shoulders for support.

Getting your sweet boyfriend over that imaginary edge took no more than two minutes after that, already too pent up from everything up until now to hold it any longer. You held him close as he seized up, chest arching into yours while he spilled into your hand.

You reached behind you for the tissue box on your side table, careful not to jostle Yunho around too much. He wrapped his legs around your waist, feeling too tender and small to let you go.

"Don't worry hun, I'm not going anywhere," you comforted him as you turned back around. You quickly wiped your dirty hand with one of the tissues before leaning forward and dabbing his tears away with another one. Handing him a third one, you helped him lift his head up to blow his nose before throwing all three tissues into a nearby bin.

As much as you wanted to debrief with him right then and there to make sure he really enjoyed himself, one look into his eyes assured you he was nowhere near ready for that right now. He looked content and comfortable, sure, but his eyes were still too distant for any complicated discussions and introspections.

So, you simply asked him what to do next.

"Can we just cuddle for a bit?" Yunho asked meekly, a small pout on his face as he extended his arms out for a hug. "We can clean up and talk after, but I just really need you right now."

You took him up on his offer with zero hesitation, snuggling into his embrace as close as you could. The position was a bit awkward from your position, given you were still lodged inside of him, but oh well.

A few minutes of curling up with your precious love bug never hurt anyone.

taglist: @justconniez @domribo @another-random-fanfic-blog @imrllytootiredforthis

Thank you for reading! And remember, feedback is always very appreciated! <3

[quokkareactions]

Late night scenarios with Seventeen hip hop unit:

Seungcheol:

It's past midnight, and the bedroom is dark except for the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. The two of you lie on your sides facing each other, just talking. You've been discussing everything from childhood's memories to future dreams, your voice is low and soft, almost as if afraid to disturb the serenity of the night.

"Do you ever think about where we'll be in 10 years?" Seungcheol asks, tracing small circles on your hand. You think for a second, a tired smile on your face. "As long as I'm with you, I don't really care where."

You fall into a comfortable silence after that, just listening to the distant sounds of the night, feeling completely at ease in each other's presence. Eventually, the conversation drifts into softer, sleepier exchanges until you fall asleep, still facing each other, fingers intertwined.

Wonwoo:

It's 1 AM, Wonwoo is in front of his pc, while you sit on the bed with your laptop in your lap working on a deadline. The room is dim, lit only by the glow of your screens, and the click of keys fills the air. Wonwoo removes his headphones and looks at you with weary eyes.

"How's it going?"

You sigh, rubbing your eyes. "Almost done."

"Great" He smiles even though he knows what you said was not entirely true. "Want some tea?"

After your nod, he heads to the kitchen and returns with two mugs. He hands you one and kisses the top of your head, then goes back to his video game. With a steaming mug of tea in hand you get back to work, occasionally stealing glances at Wonwoo, who is yawning uncontrollably while playing. An adoring smile displayed on your face, the sight was enough to give you motivation to finish as quickly as possible.

As hours tick by, you're finally done. You close your laptop with an exhausted but satisfied smile. He grins at you already logging out of his game. "Now let's get some sleep, shall we?"

"Yeah, thanks for staying up with me."

Mingyu:

The new season of your favourite show just came out so Mingyu and you decided to watch the whole thing in one sitting like any other sensible human would do. It's way past midnight now but the two of you are still not giving up on your mission. The TV flickers softly, casting a warm glow across the living room. Mingyu stretches out on the couch, his head resting on your lap, eyes fluttering closed as sleep starts to pull him under.

"You still awake?" He mumbles, voice groggy, as he curls up tighter, his legs draped over the armrest. You smile, brushing her away from his face. "Barely. You?"

"Mm-hmm" comes the sleepy reply, though within minutes, soft breathing indicates he has fallen asleep. You reach for the remote and turn off the TV, grabbing the blanket draped over the back of the couch to cover him while gently easing into a more comfortable position. Sleep overtakes you almost immediately, feeling safe in your partner's arms.

Vernon:

It's late, and the day has left you and Vernon both restless and tired. You are sitting on your shared bed with a book in your lap while he is showering. After finishing he joins you, crawling under the comforter and grabbing his phone from the nightstand. A few more moments pass by before you break the silence. "Vernon?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you... read to me?" you ask, your voice quiet, almost unsure.

He blinks, momentarily surprised. "Read to you?"

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "I like the sound of your voice when you read, it's calming."

Vernon chuckles then holds out his hand, and you place your book in it. He pulls you closer before starting to read. His voice is steady and deep, the words flowing smoothly. As he reads, you close your eyes, letting the rhythm of his voice lull you into a state of tranquility. The quiet intimacy of the night was just what you both needed after a crazy day.

[dustofthedailylife]

A Gift For You

→ Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Alhaitham, Cyno, Heizou x (gn!) Reader

Summary: They plan to give you something for White Day (Info: White Day is the counterpart to Valentine's Day where you usually get the person who got you something, something in return.)

Tags: Fluff, best friends to lovers, pining, mild cursing, very slight angst for Heizou and Cyno at first but also not really, they have good intentions haha!

A/N: This is my White Day gift for @feeblescholarmyass! I hope you like it :3

ALHAITHAM

Two knocks on the door of your office snapped you out of your work-induced haze. 

You’ve been working non-stop on this project for the Akademiya for months now and have only been allowing yourself breaks to eat or sleep. Well, to be fair, sleep was negligible too, seeing as you only got around three hours of it per night for a couple of weeks now. 

What didn’t help was that you just couldn’t get a hold of a super rare edition of a book that was practically essential for this paper. However, the physical copy was lost to the void of the library as it was never returned. And since the Akasha terminal no longer worked you also couldn’t fall back on that.

“Come in.” you answer, rubbing your eyes quickly in a futile attempt to make yourself look less tired. But deep down you knew there was nothing that could hide the deep purple eye bags you’d been carrying around like a designer accessory the past couple of weeks.

You continued to read through one of the many books on your desk as the door was opened quietly and you heard long strides approach your desk.

“Are you seriously still working on this?” a familiar voice asked reprimandingly.

You looked up into the face of Alhaitham who looked down at you in a less than amused and almost accusatory way. You genuinely didn’t have time for this now, as much as you would rather spend every free minute you had with him instead.

“Well yes, I am. Things have been going slower than I had planned and the deadline is breathing down my neck.” you sighed burying your head into the book you had been skimming through prior. “What did you want?”

“You are going to take a break.” Alhaitham remarks. This wasn’t a plea, he was leaving no room for protest. He snatched the book out of your hand and placed it on a table out of your reach.

“Hey! Alhaitham! You can’t do that. I need to finish this.”

“Yes, I can. And I will.” he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “When was the last time you ate?”

Well, damn. There was nothing you could hide from him, was there? He always saw right through you. Always had. One of the perks of being friends with a genius, you thought to yourself. And your silence following his question seemed to confirm his suspicions once again.

“Come on. Let’s go to the Tavern, I’ll treat you to lunch.”

You knew there was no point in resisting so you tagged along and unsurprisingly as always, he was right. Getting out of your cramped office and breathing in some fresh air was balm for your soul.

You sat down outside of the Tavern, both ordering a meal and talking about some recent research you both were interested in. Well, it was mostly just you ranting about your project and the sheer stress the lack of one certain book was causing you, but he listened to everything attentively. 

You once again came to realize what an incredibly calming effect talking to him had on you. Despite how fast your heart started drumming inside of your chest every single time without fail. You suspected that he likely would never be interested in you beyond the friendly relationship you had with him and you didn’t mean to destroy what you both had by laying your feelings for him bare. So you simply kept them locked within your heart and simply basked in his presence whenever you could.

“Oh, since we’re on the topic. I bought something the other day. This is for you.” Alhaitham suddenly pulled a book out of his bag and slid it across the table. You only had to glance at the cover briefly before you realized what it was and your eyes became as wide as saucers.

“Th-this is… the super rare copy of Ancient Nomad Language and Symbolism! How did you–?”

You were awestruck. You had no idea how he managed to get his hands on a copy. It was as if this book had vanished from the face of the earth. Aside from the fact that you could no longer buy it either or just for an extremely inflated price. How in the world did he get his hands on this?

“Let’s just say, I have my methods.” he replied with a hint of a smug smile painted across his lips.

“How much did you pay for this? I promise I’m going to pay it back–”

“No need.” he shook his head to deny your offer. “Consider it a gift.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much! You have no idea how happy this makes me.” you blurt out, almost brought to tears by this act of kindness. With this, your project was saved, and after so long you could finally see a light at the end of the tunnel.

“Well, in fact, I do. Considering that you didn’t shut up about this book for the better half of a month now and everyone you spoke to knew how much you wanted it.” he stated factually.

“Hey! No need to get all snarky with me now, when I just want to express my gratitude!” you chuckle and playfully roll your eyes, prompting him to smile smugly in a barely noticeable way once more.

“It was my pleasure. Besides, today is White Day, so it was only logical to get you something.” he remarks and he continued to drink his coffee entirely unbothered as if he didn’t just insinuate the most unbelievable thing you had ever heard. He surely misunderstood something here, right?

“Uhh–” you pause. “You know what this day is for right?”

“Naturally.”

You felt like your heart was about to jump right out of your chest any second. What did he mean naturally?! Was what you deemed impossible actually true and…

“Do you… like me?” you whisper, too scared and unable to speak any louder because it felt like all air had been knocked out of your lungs.

“Looks like you’ve finally caught on as well. I thought you’d never realize.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you think I repeatedly asked you out for lunch or dinner? Or why do you think I keep returning your books for you if you’re very capable of doing so yourself? Amongst other things.” he enumerated.

“Well yes, but that’s what friends do.” you retorted confusedly.

“Then let me spell it out for you.”

He put his cup down on the table and leaned forward. He stared deeply into your eyes before ushering three words you’ve always, deep down, longed to hear from his lips.

“I love you.”

CYNO

Three Matra ringing on your door at 10 in the morning was not what you had expected to see today, but here you were nonetheless. They had arrived just as you were about to head to the Akademiya for work but effectually canceled all plans you had made.

“Good morning?” you questioningly asked, raising an eyebrow at them. “Can I help you?”

“We would like to ask you to accompany us back to the Akademiya.”, they plainly stated, signaling you to follow them.

You quickly grabbed your keys and tracked behind them with unease pooling at the pit of your stomach and a violently beating heart. 

What could the Matra possibly want from you? Did you conduct some illegal research? Did someone turn you in for plagiarism to save their own skin? Or did it have something to do with academic funds? As far as you were aware, the answers to all of these questions were no.

You didn't commit any serious academic offense to your knowledge and never planned to do so in the first place. But being called in by the Matra always had something to do with that, so naturally, you had a very bad feeling about this and couldn’t help but desperately try to find the answer to it in your head before you’d arrive.

You knew your best and long-time friend Cyno, was the General Mahamatra but even he wouldn’t show mercy if you seriously screwed something up. You knew he didn’t take academic offenses lightly - it didn’t matter who it was who committed them. He dealt out punishment equally.

The way to the office seemed like it was taking forever and many people along the way to the Akademiya threw you pitiful glances and were whispering as you were escorted by the Matra.

Once you arrived at your destination you were led into the General Mahamatra’s office. The Matra who had escorted you were bowing their head down once before they left you and Cyno, who was standing behind his desk, alone.

“There you are!” he stated, sounding surprisingly cheerful. Well, at least compared to usual anyway. He certainly didn’t seem sinister or as if he was out for your head.

He walked around his desk and came to a halt just in front of you. You slightly twitched as he put one hand on your shoulder and looked right into your eyes. This entire situation was odd, to say the least.

What didn’t help was that the warmth that radiated off his hand on your shoulder was entirely distracting to you right now and made the blood rush to your cheeks and your heart skitter in your chest.

“U-uhhh…” you stammered, unsure what to say or do.

“Do you still remember the special animated Genius Invokation card of Tighnari you got me last month?”

What? Was something wrong with it?

“Uhm… yes, of course, I do.” you reply, uncertain as to where this was leading.

He nodded as his lips curved into a small smile. “Follow me.”

You trailed behind him out of the Akademiya and along the streets towards the outskirts of Sumeru city. You remained silent the entire way, intimidated and unsure about his intentions. You couldn’t help but wonder where he was taking you and whether he was intending to exercise his judgment where no one was able to bear witness to it.

He came to a halt next to a small, run-down house at the border of the city and leaned against the fence there, crossing his arms over his chest and gazing below himself. You cautiously came to a halt as well, making sure you maintained some distance from him.

“So… w-what did I do?” you carefully inquired.

“Well,” Cyno cleared his throat as if he was struggling to find the right words. He stepped a little closer to you once again, taking your slightly trembling hands in his. “You stole something.”

“What? I did n–”

“You stole my heart.” he interrupted both your words and ability to form clear thoughts.

You parted your lips with the intention to say something but every word seemed to have died in your throat. You knew he was one to often speak cryptically so you were uncertain about the true meaning behind his words.

“What?”

He took a deep breath as if he was preparing to say something impacting before pointing toward the fence he had been leaning on with a dead-serious face.

“I fence-y you!”

At this point, you couldn’t help but chuckle. The hilarity of this entire situation was unbelievable. Not only did he have you worried sick he also chose to confess to you after years of pining with some stupid pun.

“Did you seriously lead me here just because there is a fence here?”

“Curses. I feared you would not understand… see fence-y sounds like fancy which means I–”

You quickly pulled him in by his neck and pressed your lips softly against his, successfully stopping him from explaining his joke. The feeling of his lips on yours was something you had dreamed of for so long. When he slung his arms around your waist the endorphins rushing through your bloodstream made your head swim and you felt as if your heart was about to burst out of your chest. You wondered if he felt the same.

“That was supposed to be my gift to you,” he remarked with a smile, leaning his forehead against yours. “but you beat me to it.”

You playfully punched his chest with a chuckle. “Idiot. You have no idea how much you had me scared to death with this entire scheme of yours. I fence-y you, too”

“Allow me to make it up to you again. Do you like raisins?”

You questioningly raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what he was up to this time.

“No? How about a date, then?”

Someone seriously needed to remind you again why you fell for this guy.

HEIZOU

You were walking through the streets of Hanamizaka to run some errands when you bumped into your long-time friend aka. the best detective in town. Or maybe even in the entirety of Inazuma.

“Would you look who it is!” you perceived the familiar voice coming from your right.

You turned your head only to spot the familiar tuft of auburn locks and the pair of mischievous green eyes that always made their owner look like he was up to no good.

“Heizou!” you cheered, hugging him tightly.

“It’s a good thing I run into you actually. I’m onto something and you’re just the person who could help me out.” he remarked.

“Oh, is that so?” you asked stemming your hands on your hips proudly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Indeed.”

“So, what do you need from me, Mr. Detective?” you tease.

“Alright. So, as you may or may not know it’s White Day. I’m looking for a present for someone since I’m going on a date, and I want to get something for them.” he explained. 

You had to try your hardest to not drop your smile. It almost faltered just now, but you couldn’t let your disappointment show. He didn’t know you had feelings for him, so to him, you were still nothing more than his best friend. Obviously, he would come to you with something like this. It’s also on you for not telling him about your feelings for him, too.

As much as your heart ached while thinking about it, you simply had to try to be a supportive friend in this situation. Even if it would most likely prove to be a challenge. Both for your heart and also to hide your dislike about this from him, since he was generally very perceptive. It was in the job description after all and he was one of the best in his field.

“So what do you say?” he interrupted your train of thought. “Will you help me?”

“Sure!” you agree, faking a smile. 

You followed him through the streets of Inazuma City walking past several restaurants and storefronts continually catching yourself getting lost in your own thoughts while he was talking. 

Your mind was way too occupied with reproaching yourself for not opening up about your feelings. Would you still be able to look him in the eyes when you soon saw him with someone else by his side? Or would you be strong enough to still be as close to him as you are now, despite your aching heart? These were questions the future you would have to eventually find answers to, but for now, you decided you should focus on helping him.

“Which restaurant would be a good option for a dinner date?” he pondered tapping his chin with his index finger.

“Well, I do like Uyuu Restaurant just across the bridge from here. But then again, it tends to be rather crowded on holidays. So maybe Kiminami Restaurant instead? And quite honestly, the food is also better there in my opinion.” you advised.

“I see. Great!” Heizou cheered writing some things down in his notebook.

“So…” he began again after he was done taking notes. “Now for the present. I have no clue what to get them, yet.”

“Well, what a lousy detective you are if you can’t even sneakily ask them about what they would want.” you teased.

He raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms in front of his chest, acting playfully offended at your remark.

“Hey now! No need to get personal! Besides, that would only be the last resort! Anyway, hypothetically speaking. Imagine I’d get you something for White Day. What present would you want?”

For Archon’s sake, did he really have to have you imagine that? Getting a present from him on White Day would be a dream come true so he could practically get you anything and you would be head over heels for him all over again. But naturally, you couldn’t just outright say that.

“I don’t think this should be about what I would want. You should consider what they could want instead.”

“Hmm. I see your point. I could just ask them directly, I suppose?” he proposed tapping his chin as if deep in thought.

“No numbnuts! That’s not something you just ask them. It’s supposed to be a surprise, you know?”

“But then it may be even more important if you could give me an idea knowing what you would want. To gather some… inspiration, basically. I have to consider all possibilities after all.” he lightly bumped his finger on your forehead and smirked slyly. “So what would you want… jewelry? books? something to decorate your home with perhaps? Or maybe–”

“I fear I may not be of much help. I genuinely wouldn’t know what I would want.” you quickly interrupted.

Aside from wishing to be the object of affection of the man in front of you. But it was probably better if you buried that hope alongside your feelings for him once and for all.

What you were dying to say to him for a long time, had died in your throat the moment he told you he was going on a date. And as much as you honestly wanted to help him with this, you couldn’t recommend him something in good faith when it made your heart painfully throb the way it did right now.

“Hmmm.” he pondered looking at the ground with crossed arms. “That’s a shame, I’d immediately know what I’d want.”

“Oh? And what would that be, Detective?” you replied cheekily, quickly trying to distract yourself from the aching feeling in your chest.

“You.”

“What?” you falter.

“Do you happen to be free later?”

“Y-you–?”, you stammered.

“I set you up? Hmm, I suppose you could say I did. Sorry about that, but I had to find something out first.” he hummed, leaning in a little closer with a smug smile before whispering in your ear. “And I’m pretty sure I connected all the dots by now, did I not, sweetheart?”

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[aces-and-angels]

IMPORTANT UPDATE FROM SHAHED:

Note : this post is a repost of @appsa update on Shahed's campaign with updated infos on the current amount of raised funds.

I am so grateful to everyone who shared and donated, i really do count it as a miracle that we were able to reach the goal at all, never mind that it happened within the deadline we set. Your support has felt like a blessing in a truly wretched time, especially after all those baseless accusations were made.

Unfortunately, as is the norm with these fundraisers, it seems that shahed has run into some problems with the bank while withdrawing the funds she raised from this campaign. Apart from the unexpected $3.5k cut gfm took from the total amount, it seems the american bank her campaign manager using to send the money will also take a tax of $2k.

This has left her short of $5,500 from getting the full amount she needs to evacuate her whole family.

And it seems because the amount the campaign initially raised is so large, the campaign manager cannot afford to officially increase the target on the gofundme campaign page itself without putting himself at risk of having his bank account and its funds frozen.

As you may know already, there are lots of roadblocks when it comes to transferring funds from western countries to countries of the global south but especially gaza right now. People having their accounts frozen for sending money to gaza and having to go through legal hassles for it is not anything new.

Shahed doesn't want to put the campaign manager, who is their family friend, at risk of legal troubles like that, especially given the hostile political climate towards palestinians in the USA right now.

So i want to make this clear:

Shahed is currently unable to increase the target on the fundraiser on the gofundme itself, but she still needs to raise another 5.5k to cover the tax cuts taken by both gfm and the banks.

The goal on the fundraiser may say $80,000 is the target but the new one we have to aim for is actually $85,500 now

She is currently at $81,525 / $85,500

Believe me when i say that no one is more disheartened by this development than shahed herself. The morning we had reached the goal of $80,000 she told me that she felt she was the happiest girl in the world, and had bought and distributed sweets to the kids at the camp she was at to celebrate despite how expensive it is in Gaza right now.

She had also begun plans to help boost other fundraisers of palestinians, so that no one would have to feel the hopelessness she felt during those months where her fundraiser had been stagnant and had already gotten started on that barely a day or two after she'd completed her campaign.

Shahed was very nervous to tell me about this, especially after this whole racist hate campaign that was led against her so recently. She does not want her and her family to be accused of lying about their torment a second time. Especially when the violence has begun to ramp up once again even after her recent displacement, she can't bear it. Frankly neither can i.

Please know that she would not increase amount again unless times were desperate.

Please do NOT punish her during this difficult time by ignoring this. We have seen time and time again how gfms from gazans have to increase their goals even after they have been reached because of various issues, so this is not unprecedented. I've said it before- the goalposts will always be changing because they are going through a genocide.

So i urge you to please be kind and show her your solidarity and urgency once again, because the deadline is still the same. The raffle still hasnt ended so please check out the link above, and partcipate.

PLEASE HELP HER REACH $85.5K WITHIN THIS WEEK. THIS CAN'T WAIT.

current total: $81,530 USD

[st4rpiece]

NSFW

pairings: office worker! nanami x hyper-femme coworker! reader summary: nanami doesn't like sharing your attention warnings: no use of y/n, office/public sex, fingering, oral (f! receiving), jealous & possessive nanami, airhead reader, (not proofread)

nanami kento was the epitome of discipline and order. his life was a meticulously crafted routine, each minute accounted for, and each task executed precisely. from the moment he woke up at 5:30 am sharp to the time he retired to bed at 10:00 pm, every aspect of his day was planned to perfection. he thrived on structure and predictability, finding solace in the monotony of his well-organized life.

that was until you entered the picture.

you were a whirlwind of pastel colors (mainly shades of pink) and rhinestones, a hyper-feminine force that indirectly disrupted the rigid order of his world. your desk was a chaotic explosion of cute stationery, scented candles, and an impressive collection of lip glosses. you were always seen humming some catchy pop tune under your breath or mindlessly shopping during work hours.

as the days went by, you began directly disrupting his carefully maintained routine. you’d stop by his desk to chat about the latest episode of your favorite reality show or to show off your new nail art. at first, nanami found it incredibly annoying. he had work to do and deadlines to meet, and your constant interruptions were a distraction he didn’t need. but there was something about your infectious energy that he couldn’t help but be drawn to.

one particularly hectic afternoon, you appeared at his desk with a perplexed expression. “ken, can you help me with this spreadsheet? i think i messed it up,” you said, holding up your laptop. he sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, but he couldn’t deny the small thrill he felt at the prospect of spending time with you.

as he walked you through the steps to fix the spreadsheet, he began to notice little things. like how good your vanilla & coconut perfume smelt or how kissable your glossy lips looked as you pouted in concentration.

when you finally got the hang of it, you beamed up at him, your eyes sparkling with gratitude. “thank you, ken! you’re honestly the best!” you exclaimed, leaving him with an unfamiliar warmth in his chest.

from that day on, you made it a point to seek nanami out whenever you needed help. whether it was a technical issue or just someone to listen to your latest shopping haul, nanami became your go-to person. he tried to maintain his stern, no-nonsense demeanor, but he couldn’t deny the way his heart raced whenever you were near.

he was printing out a report when you breezed into the office, a vision in pink. you wore a white dress shirt, buttoned halfway up, offering a peek at the baby pink lace bra underneath. it was tucked into your mini tweed skirt that barely covered your ass. the look was completed with white thigh-high socks that clung onto you like a second skin and a pair of shiny white heels.

your outfit effortlessly drawing attention. though it was more suited for a garden party than a corporate environment. like usual, you greeted everyone with a cheerful “good morning!” that was met with a chorus of subdued replies.

nanami barely looked up from his copies as you always greeted him separately no matter where he was. always with a random treat that he just “had to try.” so, like usual, he waited for you to make your way to him, but you never came. instead, he found you by your desk chatting animatedly with another male coworker.

a pang of jealousy surged through him, twisting his usually composed demeanor. he knew he had no right to be jealous, but the sight of you talking to another man had stirred a primal instinct within him.

“morning," he said, his voice steady but firm as he walked over, placing himself in between you and the guy. "hope i’m not interrupting anything important."

“not at all,” you replied, flashing him a bright smile, unaware of the subtle change in the atmosphere.

“great, could i see you in my office?"

he didn’t bother waiting for a reply, confident that you would follow, and the distinct click of your heels echoing behind proved him right.

nanami's body was a mere few inches away as you closed the door behind you. his warmth radiating toward you, made you all too aware of the lack of physical space between you. his eyes, usually so calm and composed, now danced with a dominant look that was both thrilling and slightly intimidating.

“morning ken" you greeted like usual, trying to keep your voice even as your heart pounded. his proximity was intoxicating.

“morning sweetheart”

"you look lovely," his voice uncharacteristically playful as his fingers rubbed against the hem of your skirt, a gesture that was both comforting and possessive.

“but it seems i wasn't the first to tell you that this morning."

your cheeks flushed, warmth spreading through your body as you looked away, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"only matters when you say it," you said sweetly, still avoiding eye contact, focusing on the way his fingers brushed your leg.

“is that so?”

his voice was low and gruff, hinting at the emotions he was trying to keep in check. his fingers still lingering on the fabric of your skirt as the scent of his cologne filled the space, a tantalizing mix of musk and something faintly sweet.

you nodded, feeling his hand move from the hem of your skirt to your chin, gently turning your face back to meet his gaze. the room felt smaller, the air thick with unspoken tension as your eyes locked onto his. you could see the hunger in his gaze, a mirror of your own.

"may i?" he asks, his voice gruff with need. his hand remained on your chin, his thumb tracing the outline of your bottom lip. his touch was featherlight, but the intention was clear.

you nod, unable to form words as your heart races. feeling a spark of desire ignite within you as you leaned into his touch.

“i need words, sweetheart,” he said, flexing his thigh. adding to the pressure against your cunt.

“what is it that you want?"

you gulped, eyes wide. the proximity was overwhelming, the warmth of his body pressing against you, his breath hot on your face. "i...i need you," you murmured, the words barely escaping your lips. "please."

with a groan, he claimed your mouth in a kiss that was as fierce as it was tender. his hand moving from your face to the small of your back, pulling you in tighter before lifting you off the floor. your hands gripping onto his shoulders, as he made his way to his desk.

the kiss was a declaration of need, of desperation, of a hunger that had been building for months. his tongue slid against yours, tasting and exploring as if he could never get enough. your body responding instinctively to the demand. the world outside his office door was forgotten as you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace.

he places you down on the desk, your legs draping over the edge. the wood was cold against your skin, a stark contrast to the fire that had been ignited within you. his eyes raked over your body; the sight of you, flushed and eager, only fueled his hunger.

“ken,” you whined at the sudden absence of his warmth. your lips swollen from the kiss, eyes hazed with desire as you watched him drop to his knees. his hands slid up the inside of your thighs, pushing your skirt higher as he pulled your legs further apart. the scent of his cologne filled the room, mixing with the faint scent of your arousal.

he kissed the soft skin of your inner thigh, his eyes locked on yours, watching your every reaction. his mouth moved closer to your panties, his breath ghosting over the damp fabric, making you shiver. with a gentle tug, he pulled the lacy barrier aside, revealing your glistening pussy. his eyes darkened, pupils dilated, as he took in the sight of you, wet and ready for him.

"so fucking wet for me," he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal before leaning in to taste you. his tongue slid along your folds, teasing and exploring, as he held your gaze.

you gripped the edge of the desk, biting your lip to keep from crying out. the sensation was exquisite, a sweet agony that made your toes curl. his hands held you open, thumbs rubbing lazy circles around your clit, as he devoured you with a hunger that was both thrilling and terrifying.

"a-ah yes," you breathed, unable to form coherent sentences as his tongue delved deeper, hitting that spot that made your eyes roll back in your head.

"please, m-more," you begged, your hips bucking against his mouth. he chuckled against your skin, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through you, before obliging, his tongue curling and flicking, driving you closer to the edge.

“patience, baby,” he murmured against your sensitive flesh, the vibration sending another shockwave of pleasure through your body.

he knew exactly how to tease and taunt you, pushing you to the brink of insanity before giving you what you craved.

without warning, he slid a finger inside you, the sudden intrusion making you gasp. the digit was warm and thick, filling you in a way that made your legs shake. he stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the new sensation before adding a second finger.

curling them slightly as he moved in slow, deliberate strokes, mimicking the rhythm of his tongue. the combination of his tongue on your clit and his fingers inside you was almost too much, but he wasn't about to let you cum just yet.

instead, he added a third finger, stretching you even further. the sight of his digits disappearing into your slick warmth was almost too much for him to handle, his own cock straining against the fabric of his pants. he could feel the pressure building, the tension coiling in his stomach, but he remained focused on your pleasure.

he continued his relentless assault, loving the way your muscles tightened around him. watching the way your body reacted to his touch, memorizing every twitch and whimper. with the sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of you filling the room. mixing with your muffled gasps and the wet smack of his lips against your skin.

"k-kenny," you panted, your voice shaking with need. you were so close, so incredibly close.

he noticed the desperation in your voice and felt a surge of satisfaction. he knew he had you right where he wanted you—on the precipice, begging for release. he picked up the pace, his tongue flicking faster, his fingers curling in a steady rhythm that had you gripping the desk tightly.

with one final, firm suck on your clit, he felt your body tense and then release in a cascade of pleasure. you came hard, your back arching off the desk, your legs wrapping around his neck. He held on tightly, lapping at your juices as your pussy contracted around his fingers. the sound of your cries filled the room, echoing off the walls in a symphony of ecstasy that only served to inflame his desire even further.

his fingers slow their rhythm, gently stroking your sensitive flesh as you ride out the aftershocks. your breath comes in ragged pants, and your eyes are glazed over with pleasure.

"ken," you whimper, your voice hoarse and needy. "more."

idk nanami is just the type of man you can be an airhead around cause you know he got it.

I didn’t know how much of an airhead i wanted the reader to be, but i ultimately settled on this one, so i hope you guys enjoyed it!

updates have been slow cause of school, so i’m just trying to get my drafts out of the way for now 😭.

[also, dodger blue by kendrick is so good!!!]

[frvnkcastles]

Hi! I love your writing so so much!!

If possible, could you do one where the reader has been working overtime at work and is exhausted, like they've been having headaches and barely sleeping & Frank notices and basically convinces them and helps them to take a break? Thank you!! 💕❤️

KEEP ME COMPANY ’TIL THE END ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You’re pushing yourself past your limits for work and Frank intervenes.

Warnings: Stress, mostly fluff, gender neutral reader, language

Word count: 770

Author’s note: Hiiii my loves! I am so sorry for being MIA, this semester is kicking my ass :( Rn it seems like my posts will be a little infrequent because I have sooo many deadlines before Christmas, but I’m gonna try my best!! I have not forgotten about all your requests!! Thank you so much for your patience, thank you also for 900 followers, that’s so wack but I am so grateful <3 Anon, I hope you enjoy this short fic and that you forgive me for being so slow to get this out. Much love!

A brewing headache pinched at your temples and you were painfully aware that every minute you spent staring at your outrageously bright laptop screen only sealed your fate tighter and tighter. It was getting late but you still felt like you had so much to do; like you had barely scratched the surface of all your responsibilities. You had only taken a break to go to the bathroom and reluctantly eat something when Frank had insisted on it, and now the tension from sitting on the couch with your laptop huffing and puffing on your thighs was starting to seep into your shoulders and neck.

Frank didn’t like it, the way you worked yourself to the bone, but he had swallowed down his complaints when you had promised to wrap things up within the hour. Still, you could feel his scrutinizing stare on you from across the couch, his attention on your focused frown rather than the football game he was supposed to be watching. He was itching to say something, to force you away from the suffocating bubble of stress, but he was trying to be patient — though the scratched label of his beer bottle said plenty.

When you winced at the pulsating headache behind your eye, though, he cleared his throat and reached for your laptop.

”Hey! Frank, noooo. I’m not done”, you insisted, trying to get the device back but he was quick to save your document and then slap it closed before you could retrieve it. He angled it behind his back and tutted at you, disapproving of the way you were pushing yourself for the sixth day in a row.

”Nah, sweetheart, I’m tellin’ you, you’re gonna waste away if you don’t take a break. You’ve been at it all day, aight? I want you here with me, not worryin’ about shit”, he argued back, your pout doing nothing to sway him. He always caved in and gave you what you wanted — unless your health and sanity were at stake.

You frowned, a sudden surge of guilt swinging at your chest. ”I guess I’ve been kinda neglecting you…”, you admitted with shame. That had never been your intention, but you couldn’t deny that you had not been a very present partner lately.

Shaking his head, Frank set the beer on the coffee table and took your hand in his own. ”It ain’t about that, darlin’. It’s the fact that this is wearin’ you out. I know you ain’t sleepin’ and I gotta jump through all these hoops to just get you to eat. I’m worried, y’know?” he explained, his tone stern but still warm. He was trying his hardest to be understanding, but he took your well-being too personally to let this newfound routine go on.

You managed a nod and squeezed his hand. ”I know, Frankie, I’m sorry, it’s just… there’s so much to do and I can’t fall behind”, you tried to rationalize your persistent working, and he sighed softly, not out of frustration but to acknowledge the difficult situation.

”I get it, sweetheart. But no one can expect you to be efficient at this hour, aight? You need to rest, too. Yeah?” Frank pointed out, tilting his head to catch your gaze. He was right and you knew it, so begrudgingly, you admitted defeat.

”Okay. I’ll limit myself”, you agreed, and with the concern in his eyes slowly fading, Frank nodded approvingly. He placed the laptop on the table before opening his arms for you, gesturing for you to cuddle up to him. The invitation made you smile and seeing joy on your face for the first time all day got Frank’s lips twitching, too.

You nestled against him and he wrapped you into a cocoon of safety and warmth, hoping to distract you from the stress lingering on your mind. It was hard not to think about all the work you could have been doing, and Frank suspected as much.

”I know it ain’t easy to just turn it off. But you deserve a break, baby. And I’m fuckin’ proud of you for all your effort, but I’ll be proud if you cut back a lil, too”, he spoke up after a moment of just cuddling, and with your heart soaring at his praise, you tilted your head up so you could kiss his jaw tenderly.

”Thank you, Frank. Love you”, you muttered, feeling the exhaustion of the past week creep up on you. Frank noticed, but he was glad — you needed sleep, and he was going to try and help you do it however he could.

”Love you too, sweetheart.”

[strangeshadowdreamer]

"Venom 3" is in November 2020; Venom & Eddie knew each other only 3 months

and other stuff that refers to "Venom" movies timeline and was horribly messed up in the 3rd part

This is an answer to the post (https://www.tumblr.com/purplegazania/766419426998452224?source=share )

@purplegazania Hi! It's great that you pay attention to such details! But I’m afraid the events of "Venom 3" take place in 2020. But maybe «September 20» didn’t happen in their universe

And is definitely not June at all

In "Venom 2" we [film viewers] were shown that Eddie writes an article about Cletus Kasady. At the top of the app he is writing in a date was written. It is fuzzy, but recognizable: 10.29.20. You may need to search for high-definition video to see it yourself. I am not sure if tumblr compresses pictures in posts. It is a US style of date, so it stands for 29 th of October 2020. This is an exact date officially stated in the movie.

And we can also see that Eddie is also about to miss his deadline —  30th of October 2020. So the date was mentioned in two different places.

Probably, it’s one of the reasons why he was so irritated about Venom distracting him – Eddie had little time to finish his article.

It is the night when they come to Mrs. Chen for chocolate, deal with that bag robber and receive a phone call from Ann. They arrange to meet with Annie «Tomorrow night», which is 30th of October night. And at the night after this one they have a fight and Venom runs away. It is the 31st of October night. It is substantiated by the fact that Venom turns up at a costume party, which actually is Halloween. (I noted that in my post earlier https://www.tumblr.com/strangeshadowdreamer/701134805977432064/venom-at-halloween-party?source=share )

Here is the timeline for «Venom 2»

And then things start to happen really fast. Frances Barrison and Cletus unite, kidnap Ann and the whole scene at the Grace Cathedral happens. Pretty long night, huh

So back to the question about Christmas in June

Events in "Venom" (2018) take place in early autumn or late summer, judging by the leaves on trees (but definitely really late summer as weather is a bit chilly - Eddie wears a coat, and I think it's not that chilly in California in the middle of summer, so I believe it to be early autumn).

And now when I put together the early autumn at the end of «Venom» (2018) and 29-31 of October events of «Venom 2» it seems like a month period. And it fits. This time period is just perfect length.

This time period is short enough to explain why Venom and Eddie’s relationship is so raw (because they spent like a month together only)

And this time period is also short enough to explain why with such different attitudes towards life (I mean quiet journalism and «Living in peace» VS «fighting bad guys and eating them») haven’t let to a major quarrel before the events of «Venom 2» - because it was like a month long and they were just patient and accumulated the irritation

And this period is long enough to explain Ann’s phrase about her being sorry for not returning Eddie’s calls because she needed some time after «Alien biting a guy’s head off thing». I think that judging from Ann’s character a month is just long enough time for her to recover from what happened

Events in "Venom 2" take place around Halloween (I have already explained that above). And it seems to me that Eddie and Venom fled from San Francisco within a few days after the fight in Grace Cathedral. That is because if police blame Eddie for that, Venom and Eddie wouldn't have stayed in San Francisco significantly longer in order not to get caught. Plus, police call a helicopter, so they consider stuff happening in the Cathedral really serious and will waste no time looking for Eddie. So, between Grace cathedral scene and the beach scene, barely a few days passed.

And again, it feels like only a few days passed between the the beach scene and that scene where they were watching a tv show and teleportations started. So «Venom» (2018) and «Venom 2» are fully time-coordinated.  But let’s put a bookmark here🔖

It seems to me that 0 days passed since that first teleportation of theirs until the events of "Venom 3". And the events of «Venom 3» happen within just a few days.

It all happened pretty soon after 31 st of October, therefore, in November (which is pretty warm in Mexico). I mean, I talk about a period measured in DAYS between «Venom 2» Cathedral scene and «Venom 3» events. So, between that Halloween party in "Venom 2" and events of "Venom 3" about a few days passed. Let’s say a week. -> 31st of October + week = beginning of November. And that makes it a perfect time to wear a Christmas tree pin (Christmas is on 25th of December), but makes all the characters’ phrases about time nonsensical.

Lets return to the bookmark. 🔖 Basically, time between the beach scene and tv watching scene is the only gap where a few additional six (6!) months can theoretically be pushed into. But do you really think that Eddie and Venom spent a part of November, a whole December, January, February, March, April, May and some part of June in Mexico between the beach scene and that scene where they were watching a tv show and teleportations started? This is too much of a stretch to me, because:

Their relationship didn’t change at all, just as they didn’t communicate all the suggested half a year in Mexico. But if they did spend half a year in Mexico, I believe that they would have improved their relationship, and this would have been visible, especially after the progress they’ve made in «Venom 2»

They stayed in a small, quiet place in Mexico (for the obvious reason of (a) hiding from police and (b) finding a place with not many people so that Venom could show himself outside without causing panic or attracting unwanted attention). Venom would have gotten bored there really quickly.

2.1) Venom spent like a month (between Drake’s rocket explosion and «Venom 2» [early autumn] and fight at the apartment [31st of October]) in busy San Francisco with all kinds of entertainment (playing video games (see https://www.tumblr.com/wonderingaroundsworld/704834634551328769/venom-and-eddie-have-gamepads-to-play-together?source=share ), adoring his chickens Sonny and Cher in their own small house (see https://www.tumblr.com/wonderingaroundsworld/704459258987757568?source=share ), helping Eddie with his job, visiting bowling multiple times (Venom while holding that bag robber said that he can use the robber’s head for bowling and asked Eddie to name the one that they like. Eddie replied: «Lucky strike») and lots of other stuff). I can’t imagine him being fine with sitting at the same spot for more than half a year. He would have quickly talked Eddie into going somewhere. For example, to New York. And this is exactly what he did in «Venom 3».

2.2) And Venom never complained that he had to do nothing and be stuck in the same place for half a year. He didn’t say anything like «We have been sitting here for more than half a year. Let’s go at least somewhere» when he suggested going to New York. I think that if Venom had to spend nearly ~6,5 months in a boring place, he would have used it as an argument to persuade Eddie to leave the place.

This is why ~6,5 additional months don’t fit anywhere at all.

Here are approximate calculations

So

«Venom» (2018) takes place in early autumn, «Venom 2» on 29-31 of October, post credits scenes occur within a week starting from 31st of October, «Venom 3» events take a few days, therefore are approximately in November.

«Venom 3» can’t be taking place in June

Eddie and Venom have known each other for like three months

[husbandograveyard]

This drabble is part of my summer celebration collection! Prompt: Pool Characters featured: Zoro (One Piece), 2nd person GN Reader Requested by: @rivvd-art [a/n]: The final one is here! Closing off with possibly the longest drabble I have written for this collection, it's not even an actual drabble anymore, already ficlet leaning. It's also technically the 22nd of September, but not yet everywhere in the world, so I am still counting this as done within the deadline. Enjoy!

It was a rare moment where you didn’t have to keep your guard up on an island. No marines, no enemies. It was a day off, of sorts, and you and your fellow strawhats were enjoying it by a pool. Sanji was serving cocktails and snacks, Robin was reading a book, floating on a pool air mattress, Luffy and Usopp had found some water pistols… and you? You were currently trying to convince your boyfriend that sure, there was some peace and quiet, but there were better things to do right now than napping in a new location. 

You had had a playful moment where he threatened to toss you in the pool if you kept pestering him, and you had dared him to do so, thinking that if you could get him to stand up to toss you, you might as well try to get him to swim a little with you. He couldn’t really sleep anyway, with Luffy accidentally (or not?) spraying him down with his water gun twice already. 

You didn’t really think he was serious about tossing you either, it was a little quib, a way to keep talking to you and in his special way, spend time with you even though he pretended that a nap was superior to your company at the moment. That was, until he actually stood up, swiftly picking you up in his arms, so smoothly and so fast that you barely had time to register what happened. You immediately tried clinging onto his neck, but to little avail. 

Once he reached the poolside, he lifted you a little more with ease, changing form for the ultimate toss. What he didn’t take into account was that you would grab onto his shirt in a kneejerk reaction, a slight panic overtaking even though you knew that Zoro would never let you get hurt in any way. And what he also didn’t take into account, was that his water gun soaked shirt, much like other fabrics, wasn’t really prone to ripping when wet. The strength with which he tossed you and the fact that he didn’t really see your reaction coming, combined into a beautiful chain reaction of him losing his balance and toppling over, following you into the pool with a loud splash. 

You laughed loudly, both at the toss and the chain reaction that followed. 

“See? You should’ve just joined me the normal way.” He only grumbled something in response, looking a little angry, but you knew him better than that. You could see the small smile playing on his lips. “And ehm, it’s actually quite nice that you join me like that. You’d win a wet t-shirt contest immediately.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I don't want to contribute to paying for furniture for the house?

1/3/2024, Names changed. Sorry, this is a little long.

I (26) live with three roommates: Kay (22) who is my sister, Sam (22) who is Kay's high school sweetheart and fiancé, and Andy (25) who is Kay and Sam's best friend. All of us are autistic, queer, and neurodivergent in some way or another.

Background info; Kay, Sam, and Andy had had plans to move in together for several years with Andy moving cross country to do so. Kay and I both moved out of our parents house within a month of each other in Summer 2022, with Kay and Sam moving in together, and me moving into an apartment by myself. Early 2023 due to issues with my apartment and landlord and being unable/unwilling to stay there past my lease when it was up in six months, with some encouragement from our mother Kay asked if I wanted to move in with the three of them because Kay and Sam's lease was up around the same time mine was and they were already planning on getting a bigger place to live with Andy when he got here. Due to the aforementioned apartment troubles and having a hard time mentally living alone for the first time, I accepted. We found a small house and the four of us moved in Summer 2023.

Now we've butted heads a good bit the last couple months (especially me and Andy because we had barely known each other before moving in together and we have very different personalities), including a few very loud fights, but we have thus far managed to eventually talk it out and work it out and kept things mostly under control. I admit, there have been times where I was definitely the asshole in situations, but I've acknowledged that, apologized, and tried to improve my behavior since then. Anyway, this ask isn't about all those times.

A lot of my issues in the household stem from my depression and lack of motivation to get things done. A big contributing factor to that is that I am painfully aware I wasn't part of their original plan, and that leads to me not feeling wanted as part of this house. The three of them often do things without me like playing D&D, and hanging out/going fun places without me, while things I want to do with all of them just kinda never happens, like playing a video game or board game with one of them, or going out somewhere fun I want to go. Some of me not being included is completely justified like Kay and Sam's date nights, and some things while they do still sting a bit to be excluded from make sense why (like their D&D games that can get very NSFW, and I'm a sex-repulsed asexual. also being Kay's sister would make it extremely awkward regardless of my sexuality. I only found out about the NSFW nature of their games two weeks ago though), but certain things it doesn't feel like as good a reason for me to not be included or it's not actually communicated to me why I'm not invited to be part of something.

A REALLY big thing that contributed to these feelings I have was the day we got the keys to our house, as Kay and Andy were showing it to me, Kay told me "Just so you know, this isn't permanent. You're going to get your own place again eventually" with a soft deadline of two years because that's when another of their friends graduates college and might need a place to stay after. Over the last few months we have had several conversations about my feelings of being unwanted and Kay has apologized saying that what she meant that day came out wrong. What she meant by that statement was they all want to help me become more independent so that I will be able to move out and live on my own again one day when I'm ready since the first time didn't go so well. They were not/are not planning to kick me out, and the other friend moving in is just an idea that may not even come to fruition anyway. Even if it was partially a misunderstanding and there is no set time I need to be out of the house by, knowing that there is an end in sight has made it much harder for me to settle in because I don't feel like I can get settled since I'll just have to leave again at some point anyway even if that time is literal years away. Sorry if that doesn't make sense but that's the best way I can phrase it.

With all that background out of the way, I'll get back on track now. Kay and Andy have spent months planning on how to decorate the house and want to make the whole first floor (kitchen, living room, and shared craft space in the front room) themed like a medieval tavern. I haven't been able to give much input on how the house gets decorated outside of my own room. I've been trying to at least make my bedroom feel more homey since it's where I spend a lot of my time, but the common areas are much harder for me to feel comfortable and like I belong in because I don't have much control/input in how they will look. Which again, I know I'm not going to be here super long term, so it makes sense but it still sucks.

Now onto the actual situation here. There is a dining table set that Kay and Andy picked out that costs over $400 that Kay said on 12/25 she wants us all four to pitch in to get for the household for her birthday in a couple months. I am hesitant to contribute to this set, because I am not going to live with them forever. Obviously I pay my part to the household. I pay my fair share of rent, utilities, and food (though I will often make mini grocery runs throughout the week and I rarely if ever ask for money I spent back because I feel awkward about asking for money from any of them). I have already contributed towards furniture for the house but that is either things that are explicitly and exclusively mine despite household use (a tv stand I already had, a bookshelf I bought to display my things) and will come with me when I move out, or something that was a gift for someone else but still not ridiculously expensive (a $40 secondhand curio cabinet the rest of us got for Kay as an early Christmas present and various other small decorations for around the house).

There was another interaction today that has me a little upset. We've been thinking of getting a second TV for the living room so we can play online co-op games together. Who pays for the TV, determines who gets to keep the new one and who takes the old one when I leave. If the three of them want to keep the new TV, they're going to split the cost and I get the old one, however if I want the new TV I will have to pay for the whole thing myself. 1 person vs 3 people paying for something just feels unfair to me.

But the dining set feels different because it's a lot of money and I won't get to take any part of it with me when I eventually leave. With the TV I'd at least get to keep it. I feel guilty about not wanting to help pay for it, especially because Kay has said she wants it as a birthday gift, but if it almost feels like I'm just buying furniture for someone else's house. Honestly, I'll probably end up sucking it up and contributing anyway because I really don't like confrontation and tend to keep my feelings to myself anyway, but I just want to know other people's opinion on the situation.

Money has been a growing issue for me lately. I'm the only one with a stable, salaried job (barely pays above minimum wage though so it's not like I'm rolling funds), while Kay and Sam are hourly and Andy is between jobs right now. Like I said, I feel awkward about asking for money from any of them. Honestly I don't mind paying a little extra here and there to help out since I'm not much help with the cooking and cleaning, but the amount I have been contributing with no compensation has been eating away at my savings the last few months and I've been keeping silent about it because I don't want to make them feel guilty about it and make it awkward.

TLDR; I'm insecure and have trouble feeling wanted around by my roommates, and am expected to eventually move out. WIBTA if I don't want to help buy a dining set for the household because I won't get to take any part of it with me when I move out?

PS- If it's not too much trouble, could you please tag @aita-roommates-furniture so I am notified when this gets posted? Tumblr won't let me submit asks from a sideblog. If not, no worries! I'll just keep an eye out for it

What are these acronyms?

[taleweaver-ramblings]

Inklings Challenge 2023: The Last Immortal of Evitra

'Tis the deadline day for the Inklings Challenge (@inklings-challenge), and I have not finished my story, but today is also Ren Faire day, and I will therefore not be able to finish today . . . but it's a long story that I'll have to post in multiple parts anyway, so have part one now, and I'll post the rest over the next week.

Also, in classic Taleweaver fashion, this is a fairy tale retelling. Which fairy tale should be fairly obvious. It is not, however, a romance.

Unedited; please be nice about typos.

~~~~~

The Last Immortal of Evitra, Part 1

Anatole Bérenger Judicaël Télesphore Corentin, lord of Blackrose Manor, last immortal of Evitra, woke to the sound of a child crying.

He let out a quiet growl as he reoriented himself to his surroundings. He’d dozed off in his study, it seemed. The last he remembered, the sun had been just at the top edge of the tall windows. Now it was gone, and the whole room was drenched in black shadows — though, of course, shadows had hidden nothing from him for the last four hundred years.

Anatole stirred and stretched, tracing the sound down the threads of magic that carried it. The child wasn’t within the manor house itself, thankfully, but it was concerningly close. Behind the stables, if Anatole read the magic aright. What it was doing there, he could guess, and the thought made him growl again. It had been a long, long time since small boys dared their friends to creep up to his home and spend ten minutes within his gates. If the practice was starting up again . . . well. It might require him to go down to the town again for the first time in decades.

Unless, of course, he could put a stop to it now. Anatole took his cloak from its hook by the door and swept it around his shoulders. Then he stalked from his study, through the halls to a side door, and out into the night.

By the time he found the child, it had stopped crying and moved inside the stables. There were no horses there anymore, nor even any hay — Anatole had no need for such things these days. But in the back, in a corner of the very last stall, there was a small boy, curled up and shivering with his eyes shut and hands balled into the ragged sleeves of his much-mended shirt.

Anatole stepped into the stall, making sure to leave space in the doorway, and growled again, low and menacing. “Boy. Leave my home or face the consequences.”

The boy startled, and his eyes flew open. Anatole knew well what the boy saw. His cursed form was a work of art, he had to admit — curving horns and red eyes and sharp fangs and claws all sharp and distinct and gleaming even without light, and the rest of him a hulking beast of shadows with just enough substance to resolve into one’s worst nightmares. It was a form to make the bravest of men turn and run.

��But rather than fleeing, the boy pressed himself more firmly into his corner. “No. I’m not scared of you, demon.” His voice strongly suggested otherwise. “Oúte o thánatos, oúte i zoí, oúte ángeloi, oúte igemoníes, oúte oi dynámas —”

“Oúte oi dynámeis,” Anatole snapped. “If you’re going to threaten demons with the Holy Writ, boy, you’d better say it correctly. Fortunately for you, I am not a demon. But I am a monster.” He bared his teeth further and growled again. “Now, begone. Go home.”

“Don’t have a home.” The boy’s hands scrabbled on the floor as if searching for a crack or crevice to hold onto. “You’ve got the whole house and all the land. You can spare a corner for the night.”

“If you have no home, then get yourself to the orphanage. I understand that’s what it’s there for.” Anatole pointed out the door. “Go.”

“Won’t.” The boy, finding no handholds, crossed his arms and shut his eyes. “Go away, monster. You’re probably a bad dream anyway.”

How dare the boy defy him! How dare he!

Anatole felt the enchantments woven into every inch of the estate swell in response to his wrath. They didn’t anticipate his need the way they once would have — the curse ensured that — but they would answer swift enough if he called upon them. He could have this boy ejected and back on the road in moments, and in the morning he could add another layer of spellwork to more effectively discourage trespassers.

But it was full night, the town was well over a mile away, and there were wolves in these woods. Sending the boy out on his own would be a shade too close to outright murder for Anatole’s taste. So, with a sigh, he reached down, grabbed the boy, and slung him over his shoulder. Then he turned and trudged back towards the main house.

The boy thrashed and struggled to get free. “Let me go! Put me down, monster!”

“No.” Anatole shoved open the side door, stepped through, and then paused to lock it behind them. “If you’re spending the night on my estate, you’ll do it where I can keep an eye on you.”

The boy continued to wriggle and protest as Anatole made his way swiftly to one of the smaller guest chambers. There, with much relief, he dropped the boy onto the couch. No dust rose — cleaning spells were child’s play, and Anatole had spent his first week of isolation laying multiple in every room. But somehow, the cushions still managed to let off an air of long disuse.

Anatole took a step back. “You’ll sleep here and then leave in the morning.” Now that he’d brought the boy inside, the long-practiced rules of hospitality gripped him like an instinct. “Are you hungry?”

The boy eyed him with suspicion, but gave a tight little nod. Anatole shut his eyes, probing his awareness of the house to check what he had to offer. Apples, cold turkey left from his dinner, cheese — that would do. A few commands and a plate appeared on the low table beside the couch, along with a sturdy mug of water. Anatole opened his eyes again. “Eat.”

The boy poked at the apple suspiciously — rude of him, as Anatole had even gone to the trouble of having it sliced. “Is this fairy food?”

“I have no interest in trapping you in my home.” Anatole resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I summoned it by magic, but the food is real.”

The boy picked up an apple slice, tasted it, and seemed to approve. “Are you planning to eat me?”

“There’s not enough meat on your bones to be worth the effort.” Anatole turned. “Eat, sleep, and be gone in the morning. I will come to this room at ten o’clock, and if you are not gone, I will remove you myself — and should you return, I may rethink eating you.” He waited to hear no further protests, but rather stalked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. As an afterthought, he locked it, laying a small spell so it would unlock again only after the boy had slept, and sent a command through the estate to close and lock all other doors and to only let them open at his own touch, or if they were necessary to let the boy out in the morning. With that, he made his way to his own bed and fell into a light slumber.

At half-past seven the next morning, he roused as he sensed the boy scurrying out the same side door they’d entered through the night before. Anatole remained awake until he felt the boy vanish off the edge of the estate. Then, satisfied, he drifted back into deeper sleep. He had done his duty; no one could argue that. And now the boy was gone and, with any luck, the threat of being eaten would be enough to keep others away for another hundred years or so.

~~~

Three days passed peacefully, and the fourth dawned cold, grey, and threatening either rain or snow. Anatole had decided some centuries ago that, on such days, resisting the urge to hibernate like the bear he somewhat resembled was far more trouble than it was worth. So, he spent most of the day in the library, alternately napping and listening as a speaker-spell read a book to him, stirring only when hunger made it necessary to summon a meal.

He was just waking from one of these naps when he felt a clumsy tug on the estate’s magic. Immediately, he shook himself, reaching out to see who or what dared try to use his power.

Once again, there was a child at the other end of the disturbance. The same one as before, if Anatole wasn’t mistaken. And there was another with him, smaller than he. Anatole growled, extracting himself from his blankets. Apparently, he’d been too kind to the boy last time. He would not make the same mistake again.

Outside, the sky had resolved into a storm of wind and driving rain and occasional flashes of lightning. Anatole trudged onward all the same, following the periodic tugs in his web of enchantment. A curse and a pox on the boy for choosing this day of all days to come back! And he was further from the main house this time, all the way out in the gamekeeper’s cottage — even longer disused than the rest of the estate’s outbuildings.

The door was locked, but it opened at his touch. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he swept inside, drawing himself up to his full height so he nearly touched the ceiling. “I told you not to return.”

The boy — indeed the same one as last time — looked up with wide eyes. He scrambled to his feet, darting in front of the other child. “What d’you care? You’ve got all this space and no one to live in it. We’re not hurting anything. I didn’t come anywhere near your house this time.”

“I care very much when someone trespasses on my property and tries to use my power for his own.” Anatole peered past the boy at the second child: a little girl, perhaps half the boy’s age, yellow-haired and thin-cheeked. “And you should know better than to wander into a monster’s den.”

“There’s monsters everywhere. You aren’t special.” The boy glanced behind him, and his shoulders sagged a little. “One night, Seigneur, please. Then we’ll leave. I promise. We’ll leave and we won’t come back.”

Anatole considered — but the rain and wind outside left him no choice. “I will hold you to that promise.” He turned. “Come.”

The two followed, straggling along behind him, the boy carrying a small bundle on his shoulder and helping the girl along with his free hand. However, after ten minutes, in which Anatole had to stop and wait five separate times for the children to catch up, he turned and simply scooped up both, ignoring their panicked protests. They were light as feathers, both of them — lighter than they ought to be, but perhaps that was merely the greater strength of his current form. Or perhaps he was misremembering. It had been many, many centuries since he’d had reason to carry a child.

He didn’t set the two back down until he’d reached the small guest room where he’d let the boy stay last time. There, he deposited both children onto the couch and once again summoned a platter of food: two bowls of the thick rabbit stew he’d started earlier that day for his dinner, cold flatbread rounds left from lunch, soft cheese, and juicy pears. This time, he very deliberately chose to materialize it on the table by the fireplace. “The food will stay warm until you eat it, at which point you will take care not to make a mess. You will remain in this room, the adjoining one, or the connected bathing chamber until after dawn tomorrow, and you will leave no later than ten o’clock. At no point will you disturb me. Is this understood?”

The girl just stared, but the boy nodded. “I understand. We’ll do as you say.”

“Good.” Anatole stalked from the room — but, to his surprise, the boy followed him out. “What did I say to you a moment ago?”

“I need to ask you something, sir.” The boy held his head up, dropping his tone. “If you eat one of us, make it me. Not Aimée. I’m the one who brought her here. And can you make sure she goes somewhere aside from the orphanage when you send her away?”

Anatole cast a cold glance at the boy. “The two of you together wouldn’t make as much meat as the rabbit I put in tonight’s stew. You may attend to the girl’s fate yourself when you both leave in the morning.”

“Thank you, Seigneur.” There was a bitter note in the boy’s voice, no doubt at the fact that he had to express gratitude for not being eaten. “We’ll not disturb you.”

He disappeared back into the room, and Anatole strode hastily away, working a belated drying-spell to pull the water from his cloak, clothes, and form. One night more. Then these two would be out of his hair and, with any luck, far, far away.

[tosomeonessomeone]

a heart laid bare.

words・ 4.5k /pairings・ non Idol Jisung x reader / genres・fluff / warnings・ suggestive You - Major in literature Han Jisung - Major in music

Professor Lee announced the upcoming seminar on different poetry genres, and to your surprise, you were paired with Han Jisung for the project. 

"Hello," you said, mustering a smile as you approached Han Jisung after class.

"Hi," he replied, flashing a friendly grin. "Looks like we're partners for the seminar. I'm Han Jisung."

"Nice to meet you, I'm [Your Name]," you replied, feeling a bit nervous but also intrigued by his warm demeanor.

"Confessional poetry, huh? It's quite an interesting topic," Han Jisung remarked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Yeah, definitely. I think it's fascinating how poets use their own experiences and emotions to create such powerful works," you replied, feeling a sense of connection already.

Despite the looming deadline, the journey felt exhilarating, filled with moments of discovery and shared creativity. And as you exchanged drafts and ideas, you couldn't help but wonder where this newfound connection would lead, both in your project and beyond.

In the quiet solitude of the campus library, surrounded by towering shelves of books, Han Jisung's voice echoed softly in the dimly lit aisle. His eyes, illuminated by the gentle glow of the reading lamps, held a spark of excitement as he leaned in closer.

"I never realized how raw and vulnerable confessional poetry could be," Han Jisung confessed, his words hanging in the air like delicate whispers. "It's like peeling back layers of emotion, uncovering truths that resonate deep within."

His voice carried a sense of wonder, as if he had stumbled upon a hidden treasure buried beneath the weight of words. You listened intently, drawn to the passion that infused his every syllable, and nodded in silent agreement.

"Yeah, it's incredible how these poets lay bare their innermost thoughts and feelings," you replied, your own voice hushed with reverence. "It's like they're inviting us into the depths of their souls, sharing their joys and sorrows without reservation."

You knew that this late-night study session was just the beginning of a deeper exploration, one that would lead you both to the very essence of what it means to be human.

As you and Han Jisung embarked on your journey through the world of confessional poetry, you decided to dedicate each week to a different writer, immersing yourselves in their words and emotions. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you gathered in your dorm room, surrounded by the soft glow of lamplight and the scent of old books.

"This week, let's focus on Sylvia Plath," you suggested, reaching for a worn copy of "Ariel" from your bookshelf.

Han Jisung nodded eagerly, settling onto the floor beside you. "Sounds good. Her poetry has always had a way of cutting straight to the heart."

You opened the book to a dog-eared page and began to read aloud, the words tumbling from your lips like a whispered confession. "‘I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me…’"

Han Jisung listened intently, his gaze fixed on the page as if trying to unravel the secrets hidden within each line. "Wow," he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. "It's like she's laying bare her innermost fears for the world to see."

You nodded in agreement, feeling the weight of Plath's words settle like a heavy cloak around your shoulders. "Her ability to capture the darkness and despair within the human soul is truly remarkable."

As the week progressed, you and Han Jisung found yourselves drawn deeper into the labyrinth of Plath's poetry, reading and re-reading her verses to each other late into the night. With each passing day, you uncovered new layers of meaning and emotion, finding solace in the shared experience of exploring the depths of the human psyche.

"And what about Anne Sexton?" Han Jisung suggested one evening, his eyes alight with curiosity.

You nodded, eager to delve into the haunting verses of Sexton's confessional poetry. Together, you opened the pages of "Live or Die," letting the words wash over you like a tidal wave of emotion.

"'Your courage was a small coal that you kept swallowing,'" you read, your voice trembling with emotion.

Han Jisung sat in silence, absorbing the weight of Sexton's words. "It's like she's grappling with her own mortality, wrestling with the demons that haunt her every waking moment."

As the days turned into weeks, you and Han Jisung found yourselves drawn together not only by your shared passion for poetry but also by a growing sense of companionship and connection. The long picnics you dedicated to discussing poetry became cherished moments of shared intimacy, where the boundaries between friendship and something more began to blur.

Sitting on the soft grass under the shade of a sprawling oak tree, you unfolded your picnic blanket, the aroma of freshly baked bread mingling with the scent of wildflowers. As you exchanged verses and interpretations, laughter danced on the breeze, weaving a tapestry of shared memories and inside jokes.

"We should do this more often," Han Jisung remarked, his eyes crinkling with a smile. "It's like our own little oasis away from the chaos of the world."

You nodded in agreement, feeling the warmth of the sun against your skin and the gentle rustle of leaves overhead. In that moment, the world seemed to slow to a halt, and all that mattered was the quiet rhythm of your breaths and the gentle cadence of your laughter.

You found yourselves seeking each other out in moments of solitude and solace. Whether it was strolling through the bustling streets of the city, savoring the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee in quaint cafes, or losing track of time in the hushed corners of the library, you discovered a shared joy in each other's presence.

Even as you juggled the demands of your respective majors, you found solace in the moments spent together, learning and growing side by side. Whether it was discussing the intricacies of English literature or unraveling the mysteries of music theory, each shared experience became an opportunity to deepen your connection and broaden your horizons.

One day as you wandered through the corridors, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee in hand, your steps led you to the music hall where Han Jisung was scheduled for piano monitoring. With a warm smile, you settled outside the classroom, the familiar melody of his playing drifting through the closed door.

As the minutes passed, you sipped your coffee, the rich flavor mingling with the anticipation humming in the air. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, you pushed open the door and stepped inside.

There, bathed in the soft glow of afternoon light, Han Jisung sat at the piano, his fingers dancing across the keys with effortless grace. The music swirled around the room, filling every corner with its enchanting melody, wrapping you in its embrace.

For a moment, you stood rooted to the spot, captivated by the sight of Han Jisung lost in his world of music. His eyes were closed, his expression serene, as if he were communing with something beyond the reach of words.

As the final notes faded into silence, Han Jisung opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and delight. A shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he gestured for you to come closer.

"You heard that?" he asked, his voice soft with wonder.

You nodded, the warmth of the moment enveloping you like a soft blanket. "It was beautiful," you replied, your heart swelling with admiration.

He looked into your eyes with a secretive glint in his eyes. "That piece was part of my self-authored poem," he confessed, his voice tinged with a hint of excitement. "But it's a secret for now."

Surprised by his revelation, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of curiosity. "A secret poem?" you echoed, leaning in closer, eager to hear more.

Han Jisung nodded, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yes, I've been working on it for some time. I wanted it to be a surprise, something special."

In that moment, a wave of warmth washed over you, touched by Han Jisung's thoughtfulness and creativity. "I can't wait to hear it," you replied, your heart swelling with anticipation.

Han Jisung's eyes sparkled with excitement as he continued, "I hope to turn it into a song someday, but I need to find the right melody first. Something that captures the essence of the words."

You nodded in understanding, marveling at his dedication and passion for his craft. "I have no doubt it will be amazing," you assured him, your voice filled with unwavering confidence.

With just one week left until the seminar, you knew that together, you and Han Jisung were ready to take on whatever challenges lay ahead, armed with nothing but your love for literature and the unshakeable bond that had blossomed between you.

As you huddled together in the cozy confines of your dorm room, surrounded by scattered notebooks and 

half-empty mugs of coffee, the hours melted away in a blur of passionate discussion and shared laughter. 

"We're almost there," you remarked, your voice tinged with a hint of exhaustion but buoyed by a sense of accomplishment. "Just a few more tweaks and we'll be ready for the big day."

Han Jisung nodded in agreement, his eyes alight with determination. "I have a feeling our hard work is going to pay off. This seminar is going to be something special."

And as the first light of dawn painted the sky in shades of pink and gold, you finally allowed yourselves a moment of respite, knowing that the journey you had embarked upon together was far from over. 

With Saturday stretching out before you like a blank canvas, filled with endless possibilities, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement for the adventures that lay ahead.

As you and Han Jisung settled onto the soft rug, bathed in the warm glow of the lamp, a sense of unease settled over you like a heavy blanket. Despite the late hour and the quiet stillness of the room, your mind raced with a flurry of thoughts and emotions, each one more elusive than the last.

"I just can't seem to find the right words," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been trying to write my poem, but it's like the words won't come."

Han Jisung nodded in understanding, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the swirling chaos of your thoughts. "It's okay," he reassured you, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Sometimes, the hardest part is finding the courage to let the words flow."

With a heavy sigh, you closed your eyes, willing the floodgates of inspiration to open. But try as you might, the blank page remained stubbornly devoid of any semblance of poetry, a silent testament to your inner struggle.

"I just want it to be perfect," you admitted, the weight of expectation bearing down on your shoulders like a burden too heavy to bear.

Han Jisung reached out, his hand resting gently on yours, a silent gesture of solidarity and support. "It doesn't have to be perfect," he said, his voice soft but firm. "It just has to be true."

His words hung in the air like a lifeline, guiding you back to the heart of your creativity and reminding you that the beauty of poetry lies not in its perfection, but in its honesty and vulnerability.

And as you leaned against the bed, surrounded by the soft glow of lamplight and the steady rhythm of Han Jisung's presence, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, united in purpose and bound by the bonds of friendship and shared passion.

As you looked at Han Jisung, lost in the quiet rhythm of his work, a wave of inspiration washed over you, igniting a spark deep within your soul. The dim light cast soft shadows across the room, enveloping the two of you in a cocoon of intimacy and possibility.

In that fleeting moment, as the world outside faded into oblivion, you found yourself drawn to the beauty of the scene unfolding before you—the gentle rustle of papers, the steady cadence of Han Jisung's breathing, the unspoken connection that bound you together.

With a sense of purpose coursing through your veins, you reached for your pen, the ink flowing like a river of creativity as you scribbled down every word that danced across your mind. 

Each line was a testament to the quiet strength of friendship and the power of shared dreams, woven together with threads of love and vulnerability.

As the words spilled onto the page, a sense of clarity washed over you, like a beacon guiding you home. In the midst of chaos and uncertainty, you had found your anchor, your sanctuary—the poetry that lay dormant within your soul, waiting to be unleashed.

And as you poured your heart onto the page, each word a testament to the beauty of the human experience, you knew that this moment would forever be etched into the fabric of your memory—a silent tribute to the power of inspiration, and the transformative magic of connection.

“In shadows cast by evening's gentle hue,

In whispered sighs beneath the crescent moon,

A heart laid bare, adorned with shades of blue,

Confession wrapped in verses' soft cocoon.

Beneath the lamplight's tender, flickering glow,

I trace the contours of a secret flame,

A love that blossoms but dare not to show,

Its petals sheltered from the world's acclaim.

In stolen glances, fleeting moments shared,

A melody of longing softly hummed,

In every line, a tender truth declared,

A symphony of whispers left unsung.

With every word, a silent vow I keep,

In ink-stained pages, where my secrets sleep.”

As you looked down at your words, a moment of realization struck you like a bolt from the blue. Lost in the rhythm of your own thoughts, you hadn't even noticed Han Jisung leaning in, his eyes scanning the freshly written lines with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

His gaze lingered on the page, his expression unreadable, as if he were trying to unravel the secrets hidden within the ink-stained verses. And in that moment, a rush of vulnerability washed over you, like a tide pulling you deeper into the depths of your own emotions.

You felt exposed, laid bare beneath the weight of your own words, unsure of how Han Jisung would receive the confessions woven into the fabric of your poetry. Would he understand the hidden layers of meaning, the echoes of longing that reverberated within each line?

"It's beautiful." he said, his voice soft with reverence.

As you turned your head to look at him, a sudden rush of proximity filled the space between you, your face mere inches from his. The air crackled with electricity, charged with the unspoken tension that lingered between you like a veil of anticipation.

In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still, suspended in the delicate balance of possibility and restraint. Your heart thundered in your chest, the rhythm of its beats echoing the unspoken desires that danced beneath the surface.

His breath brushed against your skin, warm and intoxicating, a whispered promise of what could be. And as you met his gaze, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you locked in a silent exchange of longing and uncertainty.

His deep brown eyes, soft and tender, held a universe of emotions as you slowly turned your head away, a silent retreat from the intensity of the moment. But before you could fully escape, his hand found its place on your cheek, gentle and reassuring, drawing you back to him with a magnetic pull that defied reason.

In the hushed intimacy of the space between you, his lips met yours in a tender caress, a silent confession of the longing that had lingered unspoken between you for so long. The world fell away, consumed by the heat of the moment, as the soft brush of his lips ignited a fire within your soul.

In that fleeting instant, the boundaries that had once separated you melted into oblivion, leaving only the raw vulnerability of shared desire and the promise of something deeper, something more profound than words could ever convey.

As you kissed him back, the world around you faded into insignificance, consumed by the electrifying intensity of the moment. His lips, warm and tender against yours, ignited a fire within your soul, a flame fueled by the unspoken desires and shared dreams that had bound you together.

With each fleeting touch, he drew you closer, his embrace a sanctuary against the chaos of the world. And as your lips moved in perfect harmony, a symphony of longing and devotion unfolded between you, a silent testament to the love that had blossomed in the quiet spaces between books and late-night wanderings.

In the tender pauses between kisses, Han Jisung's voice rose like a gentle melody, weaving the words of his poem into the fabric of the night, each verse a testament to the depth of his love.

"In the quiet whispers of the night," he began, his voice soft and reverent, "Beneath the stars' soft, guiding light, A love was born amidst the pages, Of books that filled our shared spaces."

As his lips brushed against yours, he continued, each word a whispered confession of devotion and longing. "In words penned by poets' hands, Our hearts found solace, made their stands, On picnic blankets, under trees, We shared our hopes, our dreams, our pleas."

With each stanza, the weight of his love washed over you like a gentle tide, pulling you deeper into the depths of his affection. "In late-night wanderings, side by side, Through shelves of books, our love did glide, A silent dance of souls entwined, In the labyrinth of the mind."

And as he spoke, you felt the echoes of your shared journey reverberate through every syllable, binding you together in an unbreakable bond forged in the fires of passion and understanding. "With every verse, a promise made, In every stanza, love conveyed, Through sonnets sweet and verses true, Our hearts found shelter, me and you."

In the quiet sanctuary of the night, Han Jisung's words became a sanctuary, a testament to the beauty of your love and the poetry that had blossomed between you. "And so, my love, in poetry's embrace, I found the home for which I chase, In every line, I see your face, A love eternal, bound by grace."

With each breath, with each kiss, the lines of his poem became etched into the very fabric of your being, a reminder of the magic that had brought you together and the promise of a future filled with endless possibility and unwavering devotion.

As Han Jisung finished his heartfelt poem, his eyes met yours with a depth of emotion that echoed the sentiments woven into his verses. Without a word, you felt a magnetic pull drawing you closer to him, your heart beating in sync with the rhythm of his love.

With a graceful movement, you shifted closer, settling into his lap, your legs on each side, creating an intimate cocoon of warmth and affection. He leaned against the side of your bed, his body molded to yours, as you leaned into him, your breath mingling in the space between you.

In the soft glow of the lamplight, time seemed to stand still as you surrendered to the tender embrace of his lips, a silent symphony of passion and desire unfolding in the quiet sanctuary of the night. His touch was a gentle caress against your skin, igniting a fire that burned with the intensity of a thousand suns.

With each kiss, the boundaries that had once separated you melted away, leaving only the raw vulnerability of two souls bound together in a dance as old as time itself. In that moment, there were no words, no need for explanations or promises—only the silent language of love spoken in the tender brush of lips and the gentle touch of hands.

As the warmth of the moment enveloped you both, you broke the kiss, your heart pounding with a mixture of emotions. With a gentle touch, you cupped Han Jisung's face in your hands, searching his eyes for the truth that lay hidden within their depths.

"I never imagined..." Your voice trailed off, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air. For so long, you had danced around the edges of your feelings, never daring to imagine that Han Jisung could feel the same way.

But now, as you looked into his eyes, you saw a reflection of your own longing, mirrored back in the depths of his gaze. In that moment, the walls that had once separated you crumbled to dust, leaving only the raw vulnerability of two hearts laid bare.

Han Jisung's hand found yours, his touch a silent reassurance of the love that bound you together. "I never imagined either," he admitted, his voice soft with sincerity. "But from the moment I met you, I knew there was something special between us."

As the weight of your confessions lifted from your shoulders, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, unable to contain the joy that blossomed within your heart. With a soft giggle escaping your lips, you couldn't help but hide your face between Han Jisung's shoulder and neck, overcome by a rush of happiness and relief.

His laughter echoed yours, a symphony of shared joy that filled the room with its warmth. In that moment, the world seemed to shrink to the space between you, cocooned in the embrace of each other's laughter and the promise of a future filled with endless possibility.

In that sacred space, you lingered, savoring the sweetness of the moment as if it were the only thing that truly mattered. And as the world outside faded into obscurity, you knew that in each other's embrace, you had found a sanctuary—a haven where the fires of passion burned bright and the echoes of your love reverberated through the silent chambers of your hearts.

And so, you stayed, lost in the magic of the moment, cherishing the precious gift of each other's presence as if it were the rarest treasure in the universe. In the quiet stillness of the night, you found solace in the arms of Han Jisung, your souls intertwined in a dance as old as time itself, bound together by the unbreakable bonds of a love that had transcended all barriers to find its way home.

Who could have imagined that on the day of your seminar, you would walk hand in hand with Han Jisung, fingers intertwined in a silent declaration of unity and affection. As you entered the classroom, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, mingling with the nervous energy that crackled beneath the surface.

Together, you stood at the front of the room, your hearts beating in unison as you prepared to give your presentation. With each passing moment, the weight of the day's events bore down upon you, but you drew strength from the depth of Han Jisung's presence by your side.

As you began to speak, your words flowed like a river, carrying the essence of your shared journey into the hearts of your audience. With every slide, every carefully crafted argument, you felt the resonance of your connection woven into the fabric of your presentation, a reflection of the bond and affinity that had blossomed between you.

And as the seminar drew to a close, you looked out at the faces of your classmates, their eyes alight with curiosity and intrigue. In that moment, you realized that this was more than just an academic exercise—it was a celebration of the depth of your connection, a testament to the power of friendship, companionship, and the courage to follow your heart's truest desires.

As you and Han Jisung took your final bow, applause rang out through the room, a chorus of affirmation and support that lifted your spirits higher than you could have ever imagined. And in the midst of it all, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand, bound by the unyielding depth of your affection and shared dreams.

As the seminar concluded, your professor stepped forward, his expression one of genuine admiration and appreciation. His voice, filled with warmth and encouragement, resonated through the room, carrying the weight of his words like a beacon of affirmation.

"I must say," he began, his tone infused with genuine admiration, "that was truly an exceptional presentation. The depth of insight, the clarity of thought—it's evident that both of you have poured your hearts and souls into this project."

His words, like a gentle embrace, enveloped you both in a sense of validation and pride. You could feel the sincerity behind his praise, a testament to the impact of your dedication and hard work.

"As educators, we often talk about the importance of passion and commitment," he continued, his eyes sparkling with genuine enthusiasm, "and today, you've exemplified those qualities in abundance. Your exploration of confessional poetry was not only insightful but also deeply moving, a testament to the power of literature to touch the human soul."

With each word, you felt a swell of gratitude and pride rise within you, a recognition of the countless hours spent pouring over texts and crafting your arguments with meticulous care.

"I have no doubt that both of you have bright futures ahead," he concluded, his voice filled with conviction. "Today's presentation is a testament to your talent, your dedication, and your unwavering commitment to excellence. Congratulations on a job well done."

As the applause filled the room once more, you exchanged a knowing glance with Han Jisung, a silent acknowledgment of the journey you had embarked upon together. And in that moment, you knew that no matter where the road may lead, you would always carry with you the lessons learned and the memories forged in the crucible of shared passion and determination.

As the day ebbed away, the pulsating energy of success gave way to an insatiable hunger, an undeniable craving that drew you and Han Jisung together with an irresistible force. You’ve found yourselves in his dorm room with the euphoria of triumph still coursing through your veins, you found yourselves entangled in a web of desire, each touch igniting a wildfire of passion that threatened to consume you whole.

In the dimly lit embrace of the night, the air crackled with anticipation, charged with the electricity of forbidden longing. With trembling hands and hungry hearts, you shed the layers of restraint, surrendering to the primal urge that pulsed beneath the surface.

His touch was electric, sending sparks dancing along your skin as you traced the contours of his body with a reverence reserved for sacred ground. With each caress, each whispered promise, you delved deeper into the labyrinth of desire, intoxicated by the heady scent of arousal that hung thick in the air.

In the heat of the moment, the boundaries between you blurred and faded, leaving only the raw vulnerability of two souls laid bare in the throes of ecstasy. With every kiss, every sigh, you surrendered to the intoxicating rhythm of passion, lost in the symphony of pleasure that echoed through the night.

In the poetry of your touch and the melodies of your moans, you discovered a language that transcended words, a silent communion of bodies entwined in a dance as old as time itself. And as the night unfurled around you like a velvet tapestry, you reveled in the knowledge that in each other's arms, you had found a home—a sanctuary where the boundaries of pleasure and pain blurred into sweet oblivion, where the mysteries of love and desire awaited exploration with every breathless whisper and trembling sigh.

[onehundredflamingos]

@jegulus-microfic

13 / water / 826 words / implied NSFW

It was Wednesday, which just so happened to be James’ longest day of the week— it was filled with endless meetings and stressful phone calls, and somehow he inevitably ran out of that one food he was craving the most, leaving him dissatisfied no matter what he made himself for dinner.

“James, is that you?” James heard from in the kitchen once he finally made his way there. He lived alone, but he would recognize that voice even from six feet under.

James tossed his keys onto the entryway table, making his way into the kitchen. “Hi baby,” he said, snaking his arms around Regulus from the back as he stood at the counter preparing food. “I wasn’t expecting you here tonight.” James rested his chin on Regulus’ shoulder, letting the smell of his skin, the feel of his hair soothe him.

“I know Wednesdays are long days for you,” Regulus replied, turning to face James. “I stopped and bought your favorite snacks because I know you always manage to finish everything by Tuesday.” James kissed him, tried to deepen it, a thank you thank you thank you for thinking of him, for being here at all, but Regulus wasn’t done. “I’ve made Mac n cheese, and cut up a watermelon. There are chocolate chip waffles in the freezer and pop tarts in the cupboard. Eat whichever of those horribly childish foods you’re in the mood for this week and then I’ll draw you a bath.”

“You— that’s— Regulus, that’s everything I’ve been snacking on for weeks. I can’t believe you remembered all of that.”

“Yes, yes,” Regulus placated. “You’re a creature of habit. Now eat.” He pressed a soft kiss to James’ cheek before pushing past him and making his way out of the kitchen.

James opted to eat the Mac n cheese, knowing it wouldn’t reheat the same, adding a couple slices of watermelon for balance.

He ate in silence for several minutes, listening to the distant shuffle in the background, the barely audible sounds of Regulus readying the bathroom for James.

Regulus was a bit of an enigma when it came to romance; it wasn’t that he wasn’t romantic, rather that he did it so sparingly that James never saw it coming. It was such a rare treat, and one that James cherished, wished he could bottle up and pour out into his hands just to touch it whenever he felt lonely.

“You done yet?” Regulus asked, suddenly standing at the threshold to the kitchen. “Bath’s ready.”

“Oh, yeah, I am,” James replied, allowing himself to be pulled out of his chair by a tug of his hand. Regulus led him to the back of the house, to the bathroom with the big bathtub.

There were candles lit everywhere, scented oils slick on the surface of the water filling the tub, and various bottles of soaps and scrubs and lotions that he had never seen before, lining the counter.

Suddenly, Regulus grabbed at the hem of his own shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. James reached forward, desperate to touch his soft skin, grab his slender waist in his hands, let them slot in between his ribs and hips, the place where they fit so perfectly it was as if they were made to live there.

“Not yet,” Regulus whispered. He reached forward, pulling James’ shirt off of his body next, before moving to both sets of pants. Regulus stepped over the side of the tub, settling himself down and spreading his legs wide. “Get in,” he said, gesturing to the space in front of him.

James did, doing his best to focus on the feel of the warm water on his skin, the press of Regulus palms against his shoulders, and not the press of Regulus’ hard length against his tailbone.

“How was work?” Regulus asked, lathering some body wash onto a soft cloth. He twisted it within his fingers, making the soap froth and bubble before rubbing it against James’ back slowly, over the curve of his shoulders and along the dip of his collarbones.

James closed his eyes and talked, told Regulus of phone calls and deadlines and paperwork. James told him of his colleague getting fired and of policies being changed and what he needed to do in the upcoming weeks.

Regulus listened intently, all the while he brushed the cloth along James’ body, scrubbed his fingers through his hair, kissed the back of his neck. It was only once the water had gone cold and their fingers pruny, that Regulus allowed James to lead him to the bedroom.

Only then was James allowed to find that soft curve in Regulus’ waist, the dip between his hip and pelvis, the seam of his ass.

Only then was James allowed to make love to his boyfriend, to thank him with more than just words, for seeing him and caring for him and loving him.

[stark-som-fan]

Beyond disappointed with The Indie Stone for using AI art in their promotional material for Project Zomboid. The person who made it did a decent job cleaning it up to make it look less AI, fixing hands and small details through photobashing but its still clearly AI.

On the bottom left you can see what the floor is supposed to look like, and then in the middle what the AI messed up. It goes from clear squares to rectangles, the lines are uneven and it turns into smaller squares at one point.

The zombie arm was circled as well to show that there was an artist involved with this at the very least. There's lines outlining a lot of the zombies and characters, but the circled bit shows how the colors aren't contained within the lines, almost as if they drew the lines on top of it to make it look more drawn. The juxtaposition of those lines too against the hyper realism of the clothing folds also screams AI.

Then the Sims. THE SIMS. The image above was leaked and people on twitter said it felt like AI art, one person pointing to the sign with text barely visible in the background. It could(and probably will be) excused as just being simlish, and people pointed out it couldn't be AI because the hands look fine.

AI art has come far from the hands being the giveaway, and it can reproduce hands a lot better than the early days. Also, an artist was likely involved in one way or the other as the case is with the Project Zomboid image. It is FAR FASTER to fix a wonky AI hand than it is to make a whole picture from scratch, and I have seen multiple artists use AI art as a jumping off platform and overpainting to finish the piece.

Here we have Bob's hands. Incredibly strange looking fingers and the varying sizes and particularly the pinky and ringfinger fusing looks very AI generated.

I am disappointed, not only in the companies who published it but in the people who made it. To give the artists the benefit of the doubt its possible they were given an impossibly short deadline, not given enough direction or that they're paid on a basis of per piece, in which it is becoming harder and harder to be a real artist when AI can spit out years worth of art that companies couldn't care less about the morality of. Forcing artists to either have to resort to AI or not have a job is madness.

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 4 - North Greenwich Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 3 Summary: Neil's brief disappearance does nothing to extinguish the sparks. As he returns, you make a series of discoveries about each other and grow ever so much closer. Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language, ridiculous amounts of flirting as per usual. Buckle up bc we're amping the pace a little... ;) Author's Notes: Well... that was a long break between the chapters 🙈 My apologies, turns out that having a job takes away the little joys in life like writing silly stories. Anyways, here we are, at last. With another 10.7k. And this one's packed with many good, fun things ;))) Some of those scenes had been months in the making (if not years, considering I first mentioned this AU to Shet in like 2021? I think?). So, yeah. They had it long time coming. More cameos, more nonsensical POV changes and, above all, more certified idiocy by them two kids. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

What Neil’s departure from London did not do was change the way things worked between you. Although you only had meagre information about his whereabouts (such as that he was within the same time zone but in a different country), there was no sense of a breach building in the space of that strange yet solid connection. With the anxieties surrounding the imminent ‘Don Quixote’ premiere keeping your blood pressure high daily, you more than enjoyed being able to pick up your phone and message him whenever possible.

He did not always respond immediately, but it was not a must. What mattered was that Neil eventually got back to you. Never disclosing any information about his work trip, apart from the fact that it was warm there even in mid-October, he still made the effort to keep up with your antics. In that sense, the insanity of the date you had risked changed absolutely nothing.

But it also changed everything.

It was as if your free will chose to conspire with the soul’s desires to get what they wanted. Namely – Neil. Because as soon as you had even begun considering breaching the line separating friendship from every other kind of relationship, your brain decided it was done.

Being his girlfriend was not on the list of priorities or wants, but getting in his pants definitely was. It was almost freeing to admit.

The only question left after all that soul-searching was whether Neil wanted you like that, too. Sometimes there were no doubts about that, either.

Almost a week in, with the ballet previews looming on the horizon and no chance of sleep anytime soon, you huffed an annoyed sigh and picked up the phone from your bedside table. Bleary eyes registered the hour (five past midnight) as you opened apps randomly, already giving up on the promise of sleep. It took you another few minutes to make up your mind, open the texts and stare at the conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours since the last exchange concerning the warmth of the climate wherever he was. You had been (fruitlessly) trying to make Neil send you a picture. Of himself. Not necessarily without clothes, but that was the dream. And a girl was allowed to dream, right?

Squinting at the screen, you hesitated for another millisecond before typing out the simple question:

/ 🏹, 00:15 am/ Are you missing me yet?

Neil did not make you wait for long.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ Obviously.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ I’m barely coping here, sunshine.

/ 🏹, 00:29 am/ Gee, you’re making it too easy.

/✝️, 00:30 am/ Making what too easy?

/ 🏹, 00:33 am/ Missing you.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ See, I thought my cheeky line would get a lukewarm response, so I was prepared to tease you further.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ And now I’ve no quips to offer.

/✝️, 00:39 am/ Apologies. I’ll do better next time.

/ 🏹, 00:40 am/ I’ll make sure of that.

/✝️, 00:42 am/ And what punishment do you propose?

/ 🏹, 00:43 am/ I’ve always wondered what you’d sound like if you begged.

/✝️, 00:44 am/ It could probably be arranged.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ I’ve no qualms about getting on my knees for a beautiful woman.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ But that would hardly be a punishment.

/ 🏹, 00:48 am/ Yeah, but if I let you have that and then left you… on your knees, so painfully hard with no release… How would that feel?

/✝️, 00:51 am/ You win this one.

/✝️, 00:52 am/ And yes, I’m blushing. Fiercely.

/ 🏹, 00:59 am/ Good, I was hoping you are. Goodnight, Neil.

As you hit send on the last message, your head hit the pillows with an audible ‘oof’. Your cheeks burned; the blush invisible in the dark yet still very much there. That was the problem with Neil and your chats. It was impossible to say when they would turn in that direction. When you would both lose control and follow a line of conversation that probably never should have happened. Not that you were complaining.

It was good to know what you could expect from Neil. If things happened the way you wished, they would. Admittedly, he’d look good on his knees. That was a fact.

That night you only got five hours of sleep, but who counted it anyway. What mattered was that you had some excellent dreams. Dreams that you hoped would end up prophetic.

On other days, your conversations were a little more serious. Like that early afternoon when you just finished the final in-costume run of the Cupid variation and exited the ROH to wander the streets of Soho. Whenever you felt close to losing your sanity, the walk around those familiar spots always did the trick. It was easier to breathe, to hope that you would not fuck it all up when the curtain call came. To believe that imposter syndrome was nothing more than a vile bitch.

Sighing against the thoughts muddling your brain, you took out the phone and immediately noticed the new message:

/✝️, 1:49 pm/ How’s the garden of the Dryads coming along?

/✝️, 1:50 pm/ It probably goes without saying that you’re my favourite ballerina.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ Damn, that’s high praise. Especially considering that I’m the only ballerina you know.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ I think the garden is coming along nicely. Not so sure about Cupid, tho.

/✝️, 2:08 pm/ I call bullshit on that.

/✝️, 2:09 pm/ I just know that you’re brilliant.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ Doubt, she said.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ ‘Cause like… How do you deal with the overwhelming weight of expectations?

/✝️, 2:18 pm/ I mean, I panic and lose it instantly, but generally speaking, I think you just sort of… ignore it and trust you are good enough.

/✝️, 2:19 pm/ I know that you are, Cupid. This role was made for you.

/ 🏹, 2:22 pm/ Elaborate, please. I need my ego stroked.

/✝️, 2:23 pm/ Well, she sorts of saunters onto the stage and has a minute to dazzle everyone, yeah?

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ Which is exactly what you did to me.

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ You’ve got this.

/ 🏹, 2:26 pm/ God, you’re irreconcilable. Better come back so I can force you to sit through this.

/✝️, 2:27 pm/ Working on it as we speak.

A smile painted itself on your face with an inerasable stroke of brush. Neil’s constant support and cheerleading were a welcome surprise. Sometimes, your meeting almost felt like a divine intervention. That is if you believed in such things. Because the odds of gaining both a fascinating man to pursue and a friend were quite low. And yet.

As you looped your steps back towards Covent Garden, you made the mental note to visit the box office and add a request for the guest list. It was a rare enough event to have someone you could invite to the performance. And have the right to believe they would come. You were not going to squander that sort of chance.

***

The whirring ceiling fan was starting to get on his nerves with its endless sputtering. And it was not even working, as far as Neil was concerned. The sweat still clung to his skin and trickled down his back to a point where he seriously contemplated ditching the shirt. And that rarely happened. Especially not on the job, with the whole squad confined to a medium-sized safehouse.

The bustle of the city streamed through the windows, cracked open so they could let in fresh air while still having a chance of keeping them safe from snipers and the like. Granted, one could never be fully prepared for an inverted shot, but it was worth trying not to get killed. Especially during a mission that technically was just a recon. Though Neil knew better than to believe The Protagonist when the man claimed something was perfectly safe. He meant well, sure. But despite the appearances, he did not know everything.

So, the windows cracked open three inches had to do. Neil sighed, annoyance digging deep beneath his skin to stay there for a little longer. It was another one of those boring, yet technically productive afternoons in the safehouse. Today, the task was to plan a hypothetical pincer movement. Just in case, they said. Well, Neil sure did hope the case never came to be.

He glanced at the blacked-out screen of his phone, the muscle memory betraying him as he picked up the device almost mindlessly and opened the conversation with Cupid. It had been a few hours since the last chat, which was pretty usual. They did not need to talk all the time. Neil knew that. He also knew that it was probably better they did not talk constantly. Considering that 3 out of 5 conversations always ended up dirty, up to the point where he was blushing like an idiot. And, sometimes disappeared in the bathroom to deal with some troublesome effects of those chats.

Yes, considering all that, Neil knew it was best they took some breaks. But also-

“Blondie, can you give us a hand with this?” the yell from further inside the apartment acted like a bucket of cold water tipped over his head unceremoniously.

Neil whipped his head up, glaring at the open doorway. Unfortunately, being referred to as ‘blondie’ was becoming more frequent. The petulant nature urged him to ignore it, but he knew that was hardly the last one. With another long-suffering sigh, he heaved himself out of the armchair and called back:

“I said I’m coming,” granted, that was over fifteen minutes ago, but everyone could get distracted. Right? “Would it hurt you to ask nicer?” he stalked down the corridor toward the living area with an arched eyebrow.

It was not surprising to meet a mirroring expression on the faces of Ives, Wheeler, and Jeremy sitting in a trifecta of judgment. Neil had no doubts about his place in that makeshift courtroom.

“Yes, when you’re slacking,” Wheeler dropped the disapproving glare with all the air of nonchalance and pointedly glanced at the table covered with maps and blueprints.

Neil had no choice but to sit down in the remaining chair and offer an apologetic pout to anyone willing to hear him out:

“I’m not slacking. I’m just-” whatever excuse he could whip out on a whim got interrupted prematurely.

“Otherwise occupied with your girlfriend. Yes, we know,” Wheeler raised her head once more with a dismissive wave of hand, making Neil consider the possibility that she was close to losing it right there and then.

That possibility was always worrisome, for no anger could compare to that of his friend. Especially when she was pissed off.

But that careful consideration was nothing in the face of the two realisations brought forward by that simple assumption. Firstly - Cupid was decidedly not his girlfriend. Secondly – fucking Ives.

Neil glared at the man in question, hoping his eyes would reveal the murderous intents hidden underneath as his clarifying statement broke the awkward silence:

“She’s not-” he never finished that sentence (perhaps for the better), for the harsh sound of his ringtone filled the room with cacophonic clamour. Neil scrambled to pick up the phone without as much as glancing at the screen, “Hello?” the tentative opener sounded ridiculous even to his ears.

Soon, it was clear he should have checked the caller before picking up.

“Hi, Neil,” Cupid’s silky tone caressed his ear through the device.

Neil knew she did that purposefully, solely inspired to make the idiot inside him blush and giggle like a loser. Make no mistake; Neil was certainly a loser. And an idiot.

Once he felt the shock pass enough to ensure he would not drop the phone he repeated the greeting.

“Umm, hi,” from the corner of his eye, Neil could see the accompanying trio stare at him without trying to be covert about it. Absolute assholes “You’ve never called me before” trust him to state the obvious.

For a second, Neil considered faceplanting onto the table. Equally, the idea of jumping out of the window sounded appealing. The thoughts of potential demise were interrupted by Cupid’s reply:

“I know. I just thought it might be fun to spice things up,” she was definitely enjoying this and the damage she has caused. It was audible in the lightness of her voice, the vowels curled by a cheeky smile he could hear as she asked, “How’s your day?”

No longer happy to ignore his audience, Neil turned towards them with another glare. All three stared back, with Ives going as far as shooting him a knowing smile.

“It’s fine, except for my team being desperate to berate me,” Neil directed the venom in his voice at the trio as Wheeler casually got up from the table and put the kettle on.

The light chuckle from the phone almost made him feel better about it.

“That’s rude,” her remark contrasted with the laughter he could hear in her voice. Yet it was too late to raise the alarm or prepare for what would follow, “Would it be better if I reminded you what a good boy you are?” as soon as Cupid finished the question, Neil felt the full-body reaction she wanted.

A shudder ran through his spine as his face flushed pink. On a last conscious thought, Neil leapt up from the chair and paced towards the window, hiding from the group. A half-swallowed groan broke through his mouth as he tightened his fist, hopelessly trying to forget how those two words sounded on her lips. It was pathetic.

The more tragic outcome was that now Cupid had even more blackmailing material in her arsenal.

“Jesus Christ, you’re evil,” Neil knew he still sounded wrecked.

There was no way of hiding that. Of making her forget this had just happened and the conclusions she could draw from it. Neil barely resisted the urge to smash his head into the window.

“Oh, so it would help,” as expected, Cupid sounded delighted by what had transpired. The cheeky smile he liked way too much was undoubtedly present on her face as she added, “Not so dully noted” may he rest in pieces, apparently, “When are you coming back?” the question sounded almost out of place.

Yet even in his muddled mind, Neil knew it was genuine. That she wanted to know. If that fact meant anything at all, he did not know. And he tried his hardest not to think about it too much.

“Why? You miss me?” ignoring the chorus of ‘awws’ behind his back, Neil allowed himself to ask.

Even if only for emotional validation. Because while she has hinted at it before, Neil was never tired of being reminded. The whole thing with her might have been hopeless, but it did not change how he worked. How his heart ticked and what beat it chose. Tragically, romanticism was tricky to get rid of. Neil experienced that first-hand.

“You know that I do,” Cupid did not mind humouring his whims as she offered a simple admission without a fight.

With all his predictability, Neil could not hold back the idiotic grin from making an appearance. Sure, it had no future, but that did not make him less eager to play along. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Famous last words and all. Probably.

“I should be back in a week. More or less,” that was the hope, anyway.

The few stray thoughts that had somehow escaped the web spun by Cupid, and her attention reminded him about the work still left to be done. Like the fucking pincer movement plan. With threebastards taunting him mercilessly. So much fun.

“Fab. I got you a great seat for the premiere, so… You know what to do,” the hopeful note in her voice was worth the future pain.

He had no doubts about it. The fact was that Neil was looking forward to the ballet. The hazy memories of seeing ‘Swan Lake’, aged six, hardly compared to the Royal Ballet company. It was a good enough reason to attend. The other excellent reason was Cupid herself, but that was best unsaid. And unthought. Somehow.

“Got you,” ignoring the ridiculous thoughts, Neil offered her a smile she could not see and a silent prayer cast into the heavens that he was not lying unknowingly.

“I know you do. You’re a good boy, Neil,” Cupid’s strike came with no warning.

Yet again, she dropped her tone a notch and whispered the damned two words with a breathy sigh. The metaphorical nail to the coffin this time was how she said his name, almost caressing the letters. And yes, this time it worked, too.

Neil had the mind to faceplant into the window and groan with frustration. The inescapable blush warmed up his cheeks as his body shivered. Some… particular parts of his physique also showed interest in what was happening, eternally oh so eager to betray his wish to stay unbothered.

“For fuck’s-” the choked curse got swallowed by the mightiest effort on his side as Neil took a steadying breath and asked, “Why?”

As if happy to punish him, Cupid laughed.

“Because it’s fun,” the unspoken duh made him both more annoyed and more bewitched by her, “I’ll let you work now, but…” as did the carrot dangled in front of his face like the sweetest of baits.

Always the idiot, Neil could not possibly ignore it.

“Yeah?” he could hear her take a deep breath as if steeling herself for a difficult admission.

“I’m glad we’ve met,” Cupid whispered the confession without as much as a pause between the words.

“Me too,” his reply got lost in the static as she hung up.

Letting out the breath he did not know he was holding, Neil lowered the phone onto the windowsill and stared at the city outside. Well then. The call would take a while to process; that was unquestionable.

“Aw, aren’t you two cute?” Ives’ teasing threw Neil out of that pleasantly fuzzy mind space with all the grace of an elephant.

He turned around with the glower at the ready. This time, he could not bite back the curse:

“Shut the fuck up,” on an afterthought, Neil added, “Please,” noticing the soldier open his mouth for a quip, he dropped his tone to a warning timbre. That called for a final caution, “Unless you want to start looking for a new physicist,” his glare slipped over the trio before Neil settled at the table and unfolded the blueprints without another word.

***

When that awaited text from Neil came, bearing the information that he was back in London and happy to meet you whenever you did not jump for joy. Definitely not. What you did do was grin and discuss the possible rendezvous immediately. When that Tuesday afternoon arrived, with the glory of a decent rehearsal and a good coffee in your paper cup, you happily bypassed the crowds at Green Park and skipped the steps down to the correct platform.

That twenty-minute walk to the station was a blessing, just as much as a curse. When Neil proposed the time you could meet on the train, you did not correct him about your location that day. Or that grabbing the Jubilee line would be entirely off the quickest route back home. You just accepted the time and place and ignored the voice at the back of your head reminding you that this was not how you usually behaved.

It could go fuck itself.

Once you settled on the platform, one glance at the watch told you the next train would be the right one. The strange giddiness sparked in your veins, but you blamed it on the three-week gap between the meetings. It was just that, nothing more. Obviously.

The autopilot carried you through the motions until you had boarded the carriage and came face to face with the cause of all this idiocy. Neil smiled, instantly clocking you before you had even placed both feet inside. It was impossible to keep your face neutral, returning the grin and manoeuvring around the commuters to sit next to him on the three plastic chairs facing the sliding doors.

Then, as if seized by insanity, you propelled your body forward with the arms coming up around Neil’s neck to embrace him tightly. His freeze took approximately twenty seconds to thaw as he returned the hug with equal strength. You could feel the warmth of his breath hitting the crook of your neck and making you fight back a shiver that would not do. Instead, you let yourself breathe him in, rest in the moment that was potentially a mistake. Still, you were not going to treat it like one. Not when the warmth of his hands seeped through the clothes as they rested on your waist.

When the lurch of the train reminded you of reality and all its flaws, you ruefully disentangled from Neil and met his wary gaze. His blue eyes scanned your face as if looking for clues towards the reasons for the madness you just allowed yourself. When that offered no answers, Neil broke the silence with a careful observation:

“I didn’t know that we’re doing hugs,” his impassive face offered no clues either, triggering a wave of uncertainty you had to smother.

Because what if you went too far? What if that was not what Neil wanted?

“We are now,” the confidence was missing from the statement, making you add a crucial question, “Is that okay?” you could hear the insecurity in your voice, betraying the worries.

They disappeared the moment Neil flashed you a smile, his hand lightly patting your knee as a complement to the simple reassurance:

“Sure is,” lowering his gaze to catch yours, Neil winked.

Thank fuck. It surely made life much easier. Or the plans you might or might have not made regarding him. Now that the crisis had passed, you shifted in the seat to find a more comfortable position and allowed yourself a selfish look, measuring him up as usual. The slight tan line revealed by the rolled-up sleeves confirmed what you did know about his disappearance. The minor tiredness in how he carried his body strengthened your guesses. The rest of him blinded you as always.

Especially the three buttons left undone, revealing a strip of his chest. And inspiring ungodly thoughts in your head. Ignoring that what could not be addressed. Especially not right now in a carriage full of people. You switched your attention to the other crucial topic. Everything was better than being arrested for public indecency. At least you did hope so.

“How was the trip?” you noted the shift in Neil’s posture.

How he strengthened in the seat, the mask back in place. Although his mystery had fallen into the background over the acceleration of your dynamic, it was still very much present. You had to figure him out. Had to crack the case. Even if it killed you.

For now, though, simply asking mundane questions had to be enough.

“Well… it was fine. The usual” the answer did not help much, however.

Neil looked as if he knew how enigmatic it sounded but could not do anything about it. Upon your questioning look, he only shrugged and offered no further details. This time, you could not let the moment pass without a comment. You rolled your eyes, a frustrated huff interrupting the silence with petulance:

“God, you couldn’t be any less mysterious if you tried,” although anger was not one of the present emotions, you knew Neil would understand the message as you glared at him without heat.

He winced as if admitting to the guilt you hinted at and turned to you with a more open expression on his face:

“Sorry, it’s uh… maybe one day,” Neil met your gaze meaningfully, making you keener to believe him.

You held his gaze for a beat, even if only to have an excuse to look into his eyes and see Neil without the veil of pretence. It was easy to hope one day he would tell you more. That there was one day, somewhere along the line, waiting for you. That whatever was happening would not burn to a cinder in two weeks and leave you bereft. As things like this tended to do.

“I’ll hold you to that,” before breaking the eye contact, you reached for his hand.

It was another insane reflex that was difficult to explain, even to yourself. Yet, still, Neil went willingly. His long fingers tangled with yours without resistance and allowed you to rest your joined palms between the seats, almost like a beacon to whoever was curious about your meeting. And you could see the nosy stares, the inquisitive grandmas eager to judge and label everything and everyone existing within their vicinity.

You used the warmth of your connected hands to anchor you in the present as Neil asked:

“How’s the imposter syndrome? Did it fuck off at last?” the softness in his eyes could undoubtedly be fatal.

As was the way he knew what to ask and hit the jackpot without even trying. Because, of course, the feeling of not being good enough did not disappear. Of course, you still got up every morning with the vague desire to approach the ballet director and tell her you are giving up. That you cannot do this. It almost seemed like Neil could sense your thoughts.

Which was both terrifying and appealing, if you were to be honest. It would make your job easier if he knew exactly what you were thinking. About him.

“I wish,” the suffering sigh was a cheap trick, but viable in your books, “I still think I’m going to embarrass myself, but well,” not willing to give up the comfortable weight of his hand in yours, you offered Neil a one-sided shrug “Can’t exactly capitulate now” the desperate edge to that sentence did not escape his attention.

Sure, you would not actually give up, but that did not mean you were not half-heartedly wishing it happened anyway. Ideally, in the form of someone else doing the job for you. Pathetic, innit?

Neil squeezed your hand, capturing your attention without needing to try at all. The frown was still present on your face, its force turning the corners of your mouth downwards. As always, Neil seemed to see through all that you were not saying. He met your gaze (which was a feat considering you were happy to look anywhere but at him) and spoke:

“I wouldn’t let you,” there was an edge to his voice, a steely resolve that told you the conversation was gaining another layer.

A different destination to the one you had expected at first. Although, with how your chats recently played out, it was to be anticipated. Probably.

Without giving yourself the time to overthink, you leaned closer to Neil and placed a hand on his thigh. You could see his eyes widen upon the move, the pupils blowing up in the quickest form of flattery a man could give you. Sharpening your smile to the perfectly saccharine variant, you delivered the prepared lines:

“Oh yeah?” his thigh muscles tensed underneath your hand as Neil’s mouth fell agape without him being fully in control of the reaction. It was adorable. And an ideally ripe ground to lay the final strike, “You’d force me? Have your way with me?” the sparks in his eyes were a pretty addition to the already gorgeous picture.

At that moment, you knew that you had missed this. No texting could ever replace the real thing. The back and forth with the arresting strength of his eye contact and the unpredictable suspense of what would come next. Like the sudden softening of Neil’s features and an unexpectedly tentative counter to your bold questions:

“If you’d let me,” he swallowed hard as if desperately trying to get rid of the thoughts in his head and simultaneously unable to shake them off.

As if ripping the thread connecting him to you and shortening it at an alarming rate was causing Neil physical pain. The revelation acted like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your palm. It was difficult to shrug it off as if it was nothing. It nagged and prodded until you could do nothing but stare dumbly at him, feeling every passing second like a wasted beat of time you would never get back.

Before you could get your shit together in any way, it was too late. Neil had already jumped to conclusions, as you worried he might. His brows furrowed as his teeth nibbled on the chapped bottom lip in a familiar nervous tic. Slowly, as if navigating a mined battlefield, he shifted in the seat, widening the space between you by a fraction. You noticed it anyway.

“You don’t mind that this sort of thing keeps happening?” the question was completed with a vague gesture, slashing the air between you awkwardly.

The inflexion offered no space for doubt. Neil concluded that you very much did mind. That somehow you were not an active and eager participant in the heavy flirting and mutual teasing. Neil was an idiot.

And you had to put that point across instantly.

“Why would I mind?” without thinking, you let your fingers repeatedly stroke his forearm as you leaned back into his orbit to confess what ought to have been obvious, “I mean every word I say to you. Including all that post-Watershed talk” it was delightful to see your favourite smile disrupt his frown.

At the same time, it was nice to have it out in the open, no longer unsaid and implied. Because you did mean it. And you did want it. Whatever Neil would offer, be it a friendship or more. The choice was his.

You could pinpoint when the weight lifted off his shoulders and let him breathe deeper. You stared as Neil absorbed and processed the information, his blue eyes showing a spectrum of emotions. Some were unreadable. Other more obvious, like the devilish sparks that always guaranteed the conversation would take a curious turn. Or the cautious hope, making him look so much younger and innocent. Your unoccupied hand itched with the desire to brush his golden locks from his forehead, so you tightened it into a fist hidden in the coat pocket.

Just like you hid everything that had no place in your life.

At the periphery of your attention, you could register the called stations. Or the fact that your stop was mercilessly getting closer. Only one question could make you forget the reality altogether:

“So, what would you do if I kissed you?” when Neil asked, you were glad you had never forced yourself to look away from him.

That hesitant hope was still there, lightening up his eyes. You let it pull you in, as there was no need to search your heart for an answer. It was fair to assume Neil knew that, too. The question was only a preliminary. But it was still admirable he asked. People rarely did.

You shrugged, highlighting the evident conclusion he hopefully had already reached. It would have been easy to close the gap and let that be the answer. Too easy. It was enough that you could hardly ever look away from him, constantly drawn and arrested by his eyes.

Forcing yourself to break the spell, you met his gaze and offered him an impassive smile. If only to keep up the façade for a little longer.

“There’s only one way to find out, Neil,” you hoped that was enough, that he would understand the ball was back in his court to do as he pleased.

You also hoped Neil came to the right solution. Sadly, that did not seem to come to be just yet. One glance outside the window alarmed you about the surroundings and that you were arriving at your station. The frown twisted your mouth downwards as you risked a glance at Neil. The disappointment in his eyes told you he already caught up.

Two choices were waiting at your disposal. You could either stay, miss your stop to find out what would happen next. Or you could choose cowardice and leave the carriage, delaying the fateful moment a little longer. Definitely not forever.

It was hard to say why you chose the second option. Why you stood up without as much as a look at Neil and feigned a cheery farewell that felt foreign on your tongue. Later, you were keen to pretend it was just the influence of the moment. A sudden spell of insanity.

“Oops, that’s me. See you soon,” it was a miracle that you did not trip in the haste to get out.

You barely registered the surroundings as you bolted towards the sliding door and stepped onto the platform, missing the gap by mere millimetres. It was pure luck that you did not walk into any poor soul as you attempted to get away from the train as fast as possible.

You did not get the time to flee. All because you did not consider one thing – Neil had a choice, too.

When you felt a hand take yours and pull you back, there was that split second of panic. Your disoriented mind rapidly flicked through at least ten different disastrous scenarios, starting at a random appearance of Liam and ending at a violent assault you were about to be subjected to. Only then, at the very end, your brain pushed forward another observation. There was something familiar about that handhold.

Before you had a second to follow that thought, the interrupter pulled at your hand, making you whirl around to face them. Your widened gaze fell upon the undone tortoiseshell shirt buttons and wandered up the neck to land on Neil’s blue eyes, patiently staring back at you. It took you another second to understand what happened. And another one to begin processing what it could mean. Why he did it.

Without being aware of the movement of your body, you stepped closer to Neil, tightening the bubble you both had created in the middle of the platform. People bypassed you as they rushed to the train with the beeping doors hastening their steps. But that hardly mattered. It was just white noise. Unimportant and ignorable.

Unlike Neil, who closed the gap between your bodies to mere millimetres, and wordlessly repeated the question from before. The answer did not change. You offered him a tiny nod, not feeling the need to speak. The surrealism of the moment could not be labelled anyhow.

From the second you had tasted Neil’s lips, you knew it would not be something you could forget. That the feel of him would burn into the cortex of your brain and stay there to haunt you for eternity. You were right.

Your eyes snapped shut as soon as he closed the distance and covered your mouth with his in a soft kiss. His gentle and pliant lips caressed yours attentively without effort, making you cling even closer to him. Your arms came around Neil’s neck as your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. It took another second, a blissful beat of existence, to make you kiss him back. Just as carefully. Just like you never kissed anyone before.

Neil’s relief came through in a short gasp, let out into your opening mouth, and the warm weight of his palms came up to rest on your waist beneath the open coat. Following the logic you did not understand, you tilted your head and allowed his prying tongue to lick into your mouth. The liquid heat traversed your veins, warming up your skin as Neil took his time to map out the inside of your mouth. Suddenly, the instant connection you felt made sense. Things clicked into place as you breathed the taste of him and breathed out the uncertainty. It felt right. Good. Unforgettable, even.

It felt like no first kisses and endless one-night stands ever did. And that made no sense.

Soon, that first kiss evolved into another and then the next. The platform, the people and the noise faded into the background as you swapped kisses, barely interrupted by quiet groans and swallowed gasps. On its own accord, your hand ventured up to tangle in his hair, grabbing a fistful of the golden locks and tugging in time with a particularly hungry nip taken out of Neil’s bottom lip. The reward of a barely stifled moan was more than worth it.

As was how Neil held you close and returned your kisses with equal zeal. He matched your energy and pushed you further until the remaining part of your conscience worried about being arrested for public indecency.

When the burn of your lungs excelled that of your soul, you placed a palm over the centre of his chest and pushed Neil back. Just a fraction. Just to catch your breath. His answering whine felt like another spark of pride, making your eyes glow with self-satisfaction. That was better than any other form of gratification you could think of.

When you finally forced yourself to blink your eyes open and look at Neil, you were met with kiss-bruised lips and darkened blue eyes, showing nothing else but hunger. At least ten increasingly ridiculous religious metaphors battled for leadership in your mind, but you pushed them all aside. The most accurate comment went to two simple words, pushed forward by the strength of your soul’s crudeness. Fucking hell. In the best of meanings, that is.

Following deeply rooted instincts, your tongue darted out to thoroughly trace the expanse of your bottom lip. And get remains of his taste, that you had already started missing. As far as kisses had gone, this one was pretty damn spectacular.

Neil seemed frozen, his eyes fixed on your mouth as if that was the only thing he could do. Admittedly, it was adorable. Yet, still, you decided to break the spell, the only way you could think of:

“I think your train has left,” you glanced over his shoulder, noting the expectedly empty platform.

Only now, when the haze of the kiss (or rather a whole make-out session) had begun to lift, you could understand what had transpired. And that Neil was keen to delay his return home for the price of a kiss. Or for the hope of a kiss, for clearly, he did not think he would get that far. Idiot.

You could see it now, back on his face. The slight disorientation and confusion suggested Neil could barely believe that what just happened was real. He blinked twice, then again, as if forcing himself to wake up and met your gaze with wide eyes. Without thinking, you allowed the hand you had pressed flat to his chest to venture up, stopping when your fingers started grazing over his neck. That was the trigger Neil needed to return to reality. He seized your adventurous fingers in a loose hold and placed your joined hands back over his heart. You could feel it racing.

“I’ll wait for the next one,” Neil offered you a half-smile, the uncertainty shining through the tentative joy in his eyes.

It was not something you were used to. Usually, after a kiss like that (never even preceded with a question, because who the fuck still asked for kisses?), you only ever got smugness. And an attempt at a smooth transition to sex, which did or did not succeed, depending on the participating party). Never uncertainty. Never shyness. Never contentment with what happened without pushing you for more.

You didn’t know what to do with any of it.

“No regrets?” the question was also one that you never asked before.

Not after something as trivial as a first kiss. But then, nothing was the way it usually went with Neil. That much was quite clear.

“Not really. You?” as if sensing your growing uncertainty, Neil did not hesitate before answering the question.

He squeezed your fingers, still wrapped in his palm and met your gaze with something almost resembling confidence. Somehow, that was enough. You took a fortifying breath to gather courage and discard the doubts. There would be more than enough time to deal with them later. Hopefully.

For now, there were other things to do and say. Like answering Neil’s question and reclaiming the conversation from its sombre paths. Especially since no cell in your body regretted the kiss. Or any other thing you had ever said or hinted at to him. It is just that somehow, somewhere along the line, your normal confidence had been wiped off the table. And it felt like it was never to be seen again. Not like before.

You hoped to ignore that bit of revelation, too.

“Nope. I’d offer a coffee at mine, but… I think some things need a better build-up,” you hoped the chaos in your head was not easily seen as you dropped the line with an attempt at the usual smoothness and met Neil’s eyes with remaining poise.

You meant that, too. A part of you, the same that had difficulties ending the kiss, wanted to continue it wherever it may lead you. You were quite sure you knew where it was going. And you certainly wanted that. But, at the same time, rushing into it seemed… wrong. As if the fact that you also wanted to be friends with Neil needed a little more respect. A little more time.

You could tell he understood from the way Neil nodded, his eyes still blown out by the darkened pupils.

“Agreed,” he shook his head slightly as if trying to clear it before glancing at the timing screen over your heads. Whatever the impact those 7 minutes of waiting had, the next thing Neil did was to heave a sigh and set his weary eyes on you, “Actually, I might walk back home. Should probably clear my head,” a small smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

Without overthinking the act, you seized his hand and started for the stairs. Just because you were not yet taking him home did not mean you could not drag out the goodbye. Right?

Right.

***

Although the kiss was not forgotten and only added to the general restlessness, you never mentioned it again. It was another layer added to the sprinkled, complex mess that was your relationship. A tiered cake that had so many flavours it was impossible to label it using a concise, less than five-word description. It just did not get discussed.

That was both a blessing and a curse, considering that with mere days left till the public Don Quixote premiere you could barely handle one type of stress and uncertainty. Let alone two. The reality check deadline crept up on you without warning, catching you pacing the flat for over an hour the evening before the official pre-premiere. The event always happened at least a night before the opening soiree and was reserved for the press, Royal Ballet directory and special guests of honour. It also meant that every detail of the performance had to be up to par if one wanted to continue advancing the career in the company. Which you did want. Desperately. It was just bloody unfortunate that the usual insanity of anxiety now was interlaced with something else.

Something that made you stop the pacing and pick up the phone only to open the messages and stare at the text conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours, and considering the 9 pm on the clock, you had a fair right to believe that he might be asleep. Maybe. But that could hardly deter the part of your brain that tended to get ahead of itself. Especially fuelled by stress and anxiety.

Without letting yourself falter, you typed the question:

/ 🏹, 9:04 pm/ Are you still up?

Luckily, you only had to hold your breath for an answer (or a lack of it) for less than 5 minutes. For that, your lungs were eternally thankful.

/✝️, 9:08 pm/ Is this the moment you ask me for dick pics?

A ridiculous guffaw broke the silence of your flat, along with that necessary intake of oxygen. Conversations like those still happened daily and only increased the want you could not get rid of if you tried.

And you didn’t try. There was no point to it.

/ 🏹, 9:09 pm/ Nah. Not yet.

You were having fun, chatting the shit on the daily with someone who seemed more than eager to keep the ball going. That was partially why you reached out on a whim, desperate to get out of the flat even for a little while. After all, asking Neil offered a fifty-fifty chance of an entertaining evening. All other intentions did not have to be disclosed. Even in your mind.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ That’s a relief.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ How can I be of service, my lady?

/ 🏹, 9:11 pm/ You’ve no idea, babe.

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ I was thinking of going to the dance studio, that’s open till midnight. Do you want to come?

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ You’ve said you wanted to see me dance so…

After sending the third message, you put down the phone and exhaled. That nervousness residing in your bones was new. It was almost as if it mattered what Neil’s answer would be. As if you cared whether he would say yes to the tentative proposition. None of that had ever happened before.

The urge to faceplant into the pillow was derailed by the buzz of an incoming message. With embarrassing speed of reaction, you read the texts:

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ Happily.

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ When and where do we meet?

You grinned. As you copied and pasted the location pin into the message, you could already feel a different type of nervousness enter your system. It was time for Neil to see you dance. You would also see him for the first time since the kiss. It was high time someone covered this topic on wikiHow. Or, at least, you thought so.

***

Although the Royal Ballet had more than good enough facilities at the Covent Garden building, the company could also use a studio by the Southwark Underground Station whenever you felt like it. Conveniently, that alternative place was open till midnight on weeknights, offering a one-in-a-million chance to run over the choreography for a billion times more before the pre-premiere. Without an audience of your fellow ballet dancers and their critical eyes, at that.

The other perk to the external studio was that nothing stopped you from bringing someone from the outside along. Nothing except for maybe the deeply rooted fear of showing Neil what you could do. Or couldn’t do.

That fear had not left through the Uber drive from your flat, growing in force from the moment you set your eyes upon Neil waiting outside the studio with a smile on his face. You exchanged the usual niceties, bypassing the awkward tint to the interaction with an avoided hug and nonsensical commentary from your side.

The nerves seemed to reach the peak as you left Neil in the main ballet studio room, the space lit up sparsely to maintain the strangely surreal atmosphere of those late autumn nights in London when nothing seems to be tangible and real. Having left the house in a pre-planned rehearsal outfit, you only took off the unnecessary layers, leaving you in a simple bodice and a wrap mid-thigh skirt and pulled on the woollen leg warmers to keep the chill at bay.

Luckily for your racing heart, the ritual of putting on and lacing up the pointe shoes always did its magic, allowing you to centre yourself and take a couple of deep breaths. Until there was nothing left but to march out of the changing room and connect your phone to the speaker, the right track ready for you to press play.

But before you could go that far, you made the mistake of locating Neil in the room. He had settled on the floor opposite you, his back pressed to the mirror-covered walls of the studio. He stared as you entered the invisible stage and offered you an encouraging smile. A slow, gentle warm-up was a valid opportunity to falter. A necessary step you had to take while also admitting that it was convenient. Although, Neil’s attentive gaze following your every move was much less convenient.

Once you had run out of all other options, you started the music, put down the phone and took up position. Desperate to rehearse as much as possible, you chose to go through the entire dream sequence at the end of Act 2. As always, the Minkus score did its magic, helping you settle into the movement and almost forget about everything else.

You followed the steps with practised ease, hearing the dull thud of pointe shoes hitting the hardwood floors with each landing between the orchestral notes. When the cue to finish was near you were almost out of breath. The pearls of sweat clung to your temples as the sweetness of exertion burned through your muscles and tendons. When those final notes rang off in the quiet studio, you held the finishing pose and waited for the music to end. The resulting silence was deafening.

Slowly, as if pained to do it, you opened your eyes. Neil was right where you had left him; his gaze seemingly never trailed away. But the exact look on his face was different. Instead of the ease and unbothered nonchalance he tried to emit earlier, Neil was now speechless. Dazed. His mouth was still agape, and he had to remind himself to close it before swallowing hard. You tried your hardest not to let that get into your head. You failed.

“So… what do you think?” unable to keep quiet for much longer, you released the question into the ether with a permanent frown and a minimal level of conviction.

It seemed to be what Neil needed to wake up from the stupor. He shifted, pulled up his knees to his chin and eyed you with a bright gaze. The desire to look away rose with every minute, but you tried to endure it. Somehow.

“You’re brilliant. Do you know that?” the matter-of-fact tone threw you off kilter, bringing out an automatic (albeit manic) grin from its hiding back onto your face.

Neil mirrored the expression instantly, only widening your smile in the process. Feeling the need to move again, you flexed your calves, completing a set of rapid changements. Only once that was done you could attempt to answer the question.

“Maybe,” you shrugged, unwilling to stray onto that sort of honest territory just yet, “It doesn’t hurt to hear it again, though,” unable to ignore that one voice at the back of your head that had not been convinced, you asked, “Was it actually… good?” the emphasis on the word was automatic.

You could tell Neil saw right through your faux nonchalance as he smiled, a different type of fondness shining in his eyes. That, too, was best left alone for now. The observation was shelved among others of its kind in the darkest cavern of your brain. Ideally left alone for good, never to be touched or thought of again. Just in case.

Neil’s gaze never strayed from yours as he offered you an answer without a hint of exasperation:

“As far as my virgin eyes could tell, it was perfect,” the corner of his mouth rose in the makings of a familiar smirk.

It eradicated any illusions that he did not know what he was saying. Or the effect the sentence would have. You closed your eyes against the sight, hopelessly willing the inconvenient feelings to disappear.

By now, it was painfully clear that Neil could be a bastard when he wanted to. It was just another thing that you liked about him. Perhaps too much.

For a second, you debated following the easy way out he had offered. It would have been effortless to take up the tone and turn the conversation into yet another pleasant back-and-forth that could potentially lead you past the talking. Past that one kiss, that had lowkey driven you insane with the promise of potential.

But the doubts were still there. They still clouded your mind like a flock of hungry birds of prey hunting for a bite of flesh. And Neil was the only person you could talk to and know he would listen. That he would care. For some reason, it was a crucial thing to share. An important topic to raise. Here and now.

“Allow me to ignore that double entendre potential for a second,” your apologetic frown was accepted with a subtle nod and meaningful glance.

“You’re excused, Cupid,” Neil grinned, evidently taking pleasure from the nickname you became fond of.

Especially because it was him, who bestowed it on you.

“Thank you,” shaking off the sudden rush of affection, you completed the gratitude with a cheeky addition, returning Neil’s smirk, “Sir,” only once noted his answering blush, it was safe to delve into what you really wanted to tell him. You took a deep breath, completing half a pirouette to face the mirrors on the wall and asked, “Do you ever feel like you’re just constantly pretending? Like the whole ‘fake it till you make it’ deal, except you never stop faking it?” training your gaze on the hardwood floors, you stared at the tips of your pointe shoes.

The worn-out, ragged edges caught your attention for a split second. You took a mental note to break in the brand-new pair and prepare them for tomorrow’s show. On the periphery of your vision, you could see Neil’s reflection. You could feel him staring, the intense gazing boring holes in the back of your head. But not even that could make you turn and face him.

“Pretty much every day,” Neil’s reply made you look up, meeting his eyes in the reflection. That was not an answer you had expected, “I’ve found that sometimes, if you’re lucky, all that pretending can fool the brain, too,” he signed off the addition with another reassuring smile.

Still, the scepticism reigned free as an unbidden scoff tore from your throat, forcing you to swallow down the sudden desire to retreat from the conversation. Years of practice did not seem to share Neil’s thesis. Things never got easier. You doubted they ever would.

“I’d hope so. Except that, I’m not sure I am that lucky,” that was a given, an undeniable fact of life like the laws of physics or the ignorance of the Tories. Unchangeable. The familiar wave of frustration threatened to pull you down as you allowed the insecurities to speak their part,“I may appear as a fucking cool cat, confident and all, but… I’m not,” hearing the broken note in your voice, you swallowed hard, unable to look at Neil anymore. There was only one final thing to add, “And I wish I could be,”

There. The curtain has fallen, revealing the truth underneath. Now, it was clear Neil had no illusions left about you. No reason to think of you highly. Somehow, you felt lighter. Sure, still unable to meet his gaze, even in the reflection, but it was better that way. Now, when you did disappoint him somewhere along the line, for whatever reason, it would be much less surprising.

You had no doubts whether that moment of disappointment would happen. It always did.

“You have every right to be. Because you are” when Neil spoke, at first, you did not register it. His words flew right over your head before being caught by your heart, desperate to find anything to hold on to. Only then did you hear what he said. You looked up in time to see the remains of the fading blush on his cheeks, “If that even makes sense,” he shook his head slightly as if scolding himself over the awkward reassurance and stood up. The tense shoulders betrayed the lightness he still tried to emit, “Trust me when I say I feel useless and stupid every minute of every day,” the weariness in his voice clashed with the disbelief you felt when hearing what he said.

That made no sense. The turmoil made you turn around in a half-pirouette and face Neil with wide eyes and mouth agape. Your brain was experiencing severe computing issues, the smoke almost sizzling out through your open lips.

He was none of those things. You barely resisted the urge to close the miles between you and shake him by the shoulders, all the while screaming at him to stop saying such bullshit. You did not do any of those things.

“But you’re… you,” instead, you gestured vaguely towards him, armed with words that were not enough.

No words seemed to be apt to describe him. Neil was just… impossible. Ineffable in his wonderfulness. Much better than anyone you had ever known. But that was something you could not say. Not now.

“In my books, that’s not necessarily a good thing,” Neil glanced at you with tired eyes, kicking around at nothing as he slid across the parquet in his socks.

When you entered the studio, he started unlacing his shoes before you could protest. Said something about not wanting the cleaner to have more work. The comment made you smile too brightly before you excused yourself into the changing room and hid your face in the palms of your hands. That state didn’t seem to have passed.

In an effort not to do anything stupid, you backed away till you could feel the barre against your back. Only then you met his searching gaze and made sure to show Neil the extent of earnestness on your face:

“It is. I’ve never met anyone like you, Neil,” the admission was met with a surprised double-take, so you decided to soften the tone with a stupid addition, “The hottest priest in London and whatnot,” you did mean that one, too.

Neil’s huff of laughter felt like a dodged bullet.

“Funny,” the bright sparks in his eyes confirmed the praise with doubled force, making you turn back towards the mirror to avoid being blinded by the strength of his affection. That stuff could be dangerous, “You’re the hottest ballerina in London, so we’re even,” once you registered Neil’s words, the silky tone of his voice that had not been there just a second ago, you knew that trouble was coming.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him close the gap. The warmth settled in your cheeks as you felt the comfortable heat spread around your body. That pleasant anticipation ignited in your bones with every step Neil took. Somewhere, at the edges of reason and logic, you knew you still had a choice. You knew that whatever he had envisioned in his mind, could easily be stopped with one word from your side. What was the problem?

Mainly that you didn’t want him to stop. Did not want to cut short the moment slowly blooming into something crucial. You could feel it buzz beneath your skin as Neil took the final steps towards you and leaned in. His hands came to rest upon the barre, millimetres from yours. Not quite touching but enough so you could not ignore his presence. You could feel the heat from his body as Neil pressed his chest to your back and whispered into your ear:

“A cool cat,” in normal circumstances, the call-back to your rant would have made you laugh.

But those weren’t normal circumstances. Not with Neil’s proximity, his hands slowly tracing invisible lines up your arms. You could feel his breath on the nape of your neck, creating goosebumps effortlessly. And the thing was – this wasn’t anything new. It was far from the first time someone had done this. Far from the first time you had been tempted by someone who desired you. But it was the first time they seemed to take their time for it.

Your head felt dizzy with the revelation as Neil’s fingers lightly brushed the neckline of your bodice and journeyed down. It was a first in the fact that he did not even try touching your breasts, instead respectfully settling over your ribs and tapping a vague rhythm over your heated skin. Without searching your heart, you knew that you did not mind it. Not one bit.

You covered one of his palms with yours, firmly pressing it against your waist and raised your head to seek Neil’s gaze. He was already looking back at you, the blue eyes of his eyes dark and consumed with something you wanted to call hunger. The same feeling could be easily found on your face.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” you frowned at the hoarseness of your voice and the breathless tint to the question.

For the first time, it was impossible to fake your reaction. Impossible to pretend you were not affected. Neil’s answering smile, full of confidence and mischief, made that discovery seem fine. Not troubling at all.

“Is it working?” the warmth in his eyes made you feel safe, not threatened by the potential of what could happen.

Not viable to the pains of consequences. That seemed enough.

Enough to make you gently tug at his hand, asking for the freedom of movement to turn around and face him. Only then, with Neil’s curious gaze beaming down on you like a desirable spotlight, you placed his palm back on your waist and offered an honest reply:

“I think you already know,” as proof, you picked up his other hand and guided it to press against your chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat.

The wolfish grin you received in return was worth any leftover sense of shame and embarrassment. Neil leaned in, and just as you were about to close your eyes, awaiting another life-changing kiss, he left a promising peck on the edge of your jaw. On its own accord, your hand tightened over the wooden railing as you exposed your throat for his use.

Neil wasted no time leaving a trail of kisses down the slope of your neck, only just being careful enough not to leave marks. Each kiss felt like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your neck, blazing hot and impossible to shake off. You closed your eyes, letting the sense take in the sensation of his tender care. Of the contrasting burn of stubble, scratching at your skin with a delicious sting.

Every kiss took time, only then to be sealed with a lick of his tongue, eliciting your quiet gasps and barely kept in groans of pleasure. The wave of insanity rose, threatening to take over your brain, save for one consistent thought. One revelation.

No one had cared this much before.

Letting go of his hand, you tangled your fingers in his golden strands, lightly tugging to gain his attention. The answering groan was sure to enter the library of sounds and images you liked to relieve in private. But before you could attempt to formulate the desire painted across your face, the door to the studio creaked, disrupting the silence.

You gasped in shock as Neil took half a step back, warily eyeing the doorway. A thousand curses lodged themselves in your throat as a silhouette of an older man, armed with a bucket and a mop, peered inside the room with a scowl. Fucking Rich, the Janitor.

The older man scanned you both from head to toe and sighed.

“It’s closing time, kids. Go home,” his gravelly voice acted like the much-needed bucket of cold water.

As he turned back towards the darkness of the corridor, you met Neil’s eyes. The depths of exasperation visible there told you this business was far from over. You certainly hoped so.

[virgoitgirl-blog]

making a decision regarding yourself, whether you should push forward and exceed your limits or give yourself a break can be challenging sometimes.

say I’ve been working too hard on something and I started feeling exhausted thinking that “I must have reached my limit I can’t do this anymore” the one thought that comes to mind in this situation is: did I really “reach my limit”? What if I pushed forward? What if I forced myself to continue? what if I was harder on myself and therefore I was actually able to continue and focus? Maybe I’ll be tired at first but then I’ll go through just with a little more pressure on myself, what if it’s like climbing a mountain and wanting to back but you tell yourself maybe just a few more and ill be there at the top of the mountain thanking myself for putting in that effort.

But then I think what if my body really needs rest? What if it’s my body calling for help? giving me signs to give it a little break? What if I decided to put in effort and it caused a burnout and made things worse? So now I need a break, rest, and to give myself time to recover? This would be even harder when I NEED to push through, when I don’t have time to baby myself and give myself rest.

Yes rest is essential and imperative but moving forward with my goals is much more important to me…you can always have rest but sometimes your goals have deadlines, you can only achieve them within a limited time.

You can never know if you’re making the right decision...

okay so all of this in the top was written by me about 2-3 months ago and left as a draft. today i got the urge to take a look at my drafts and i passed by this... after these months i got the answer to what i was questioning and i feel emotional (lol dramatic i know) BUT these past few weeks I've been overworking myself so bad that i got myself into a massive burnout which also led my immune system to reach the floor which also got me ill (surprising? no) . so what happened exactly? its the greed to succeed lol...i started the semester not feeling like myself, having low passion and more (mind you im one of the top three students) i don't know how it all happened but i found myself skipping classes, getting help from students in classes when i don't even ask (big indicator that something was wrong), and the last straw which got me back to my senses is seeing how most students were ahead of me (i know i skipped classes...and this isn't about comparing myself to others its about feeling or realizing how lost i was), the professor asking questions and everybody but me knowing the answers. i finally woke up and told myself "you're being average right now you cant fail your classes how come everyone knows but you don't?" (beating myself up...bad i know) i was fuming on the inside, so i started spending my whole time studying, having sleepless nights, surviving on caffeine, eating poorly, attending classes while having little to no sleep. people were telling me that im being too hard on myself but i didn't see that i truly did not, actually i was telling myself the exact same words i wrote above two months ago, i was putting more and more pressure on myself saying "im not tired i just think i am" "im not doing the bare minimum", i was also afraid of leading myself to a burnout then having to get rest which looked like a delay from what i wanted to achieve ...but guess what happened? the delay. i led myself to a burnout, i had to get rest because i couldn't work and focus well, my body was crying for help...this taught me a really good lesson, rest is the most important thing, and giving yourself rest doesn't mean you're delaying your goals you're actually making more energy for your goals. align rest with your goals and their deadlines to achieve the best. and be less harder on yourself and listen to your body, always. now im slowly giving myself time, telling myself that the process isn't linear, im slowly making progress but im telling myself that its okay because this is essential for my wellbeing.