#anyway i remain slow but am in drafts again

[estarion]

added this bottom line back into my rules because i have to be realistic w / my time and energy:

should i make my blog 250+ tho ? considering it

[tomieafterdark]

Catboy Eren drabble

cw: afab!reader, dom!eren, 18+ dni if u are a minor

I am gonna be honest, this is so unserious I don't know what possessed me to actually write it and hit poster prob should have stayed in the drafts. Anyways, it is inspired by the same person that inspired this fic because he has a catlike aura.

not proofread also click here for more content

You always thought Eren had this "grumpy cat" aura to him, and you never stopped reminding him about it. In fact, you had tried to make him say "meow" or use a catboy image as his profile picture several times, but all you were met with was him ignoring it or telling you it will never happen.

Everything he said seemed to go in one ear and out of the other, because one day when hanging out with him you decided it would be a good idea to bring cat ears and try to put them on him.

And you did. Eventually.

As if his death glare had not been enough, you just had to blurt out that he looks like a submissive catboy. 

And that is how you ended up in this lovely situation.

"E-eren slow down!" You whined.

"Shut the fuck up." he hissed in irritation, pushing your head further down into the pillow. 

Tears rolled down your cheeks as Eren was stretching you open more and more with every thrust, as if the position he had you in wasn’t painful enough he went in with almost no prep. Adjusting to his size was quite the challenge.

He loved watching your hole swallow his cock whole, but what he loved even more was the way you reacted to how deep he went inside of you. He could tell that none of your previous sexual partners had ever touched your cervix with their tip, nor had they stretched you so good that it feels like your first time all over again. 

He kept his eyes locked on you as he fastened his pace. Your whimpering grew louder and clearer even though your face was buried in the pillow, your cries were actual music to his ears. He needed to hear them more clearly. 

He suddenly slips it out, you are too fucked out to notice it at first, still arching. But next thing you know he is sitting next to you on the bed and leaning against the headboard. 

“Get up y/n, I want you on top.” He commands coldly, his intimidating gaze not leaving you for a second.

You get up slowly, feeling a mix of pain and pleasure between your legs. You suddenly notice he forgot to take off the cat ears you had put on him earlier, it is very hard to not giggle but you manage to somehow muster up enough self control to keep quiet. You slowly move over to him, it is impossible to not stare at his face because of the cat ears. He looks so good with them on, and surprisingly not submissive. However the “grumpy cat” energy remains, and he looks even more annoyed now because you are taking way too long getting on top of him. Somehow he comes to the conclusion that you are being nervous because of his size but you are just in awe of how good he looks with cat ears on, you haven’t even glanced at his dick yet. 

“Y/n, if you are scared of the size just say that. I can assist.” He mutters, seeming less annoyed and almost concerned now. 

“Huh?” You look at him in confusion, but the dots soon connect. You are about to protest, but the way he suddenly became all attentive and kind of careful made you feel some type of way and you don't mind this going on for a bit longer. 

He starts fingering you and the sudden intrusion makes you hiss but he quickly shuts you up with a kiss. You manage to take a quick glance at his cock amidst all the kissing and moaning and you feel the knot in your stomach. It is a strange mix of fear, excitement and doom. How would all that fit inside you? 

All the mixed emotions and his skilled fingers bring you closer and closer to climax, he is aware of it by the way you are squeezing around his fingers and moaning louder and louder into the kiss. He stops right before you cum, you feel so close and you are so desperate that without even thinking, you quickly bring your left hand between your legs. 

“Not so fast.” Your wrist is suddenly burning from the iron grip he has on it and the more you pull away the harder he grips. You whine and pout in frustration, not even looking at him directly and still looking for a way to reach your high. You are really starting to lose patience. 

He grabs your lower face, making you look up at him. “If you want to cum, you will do it on my cock. Got it?” His stern voice and cold stare anchor you back to reality, and all you can do is nod. 

He doesn't waste another second, grabbing you by the waist making you straddle him. You instinctively hold on to him, and he does the same to you, just he does it for a completely different reason. You held on to his shoulders because a part of you feels safe around him, while he grabbed your hips out of impatience and to teach you a lesson for putting cat ears on him. 

You try to wriggle yourself out of his tight grip a bit, usually when you are on top like this you are the one controlling the pace and taking on a more dominant role but this is nothing like that. Instead, he slowly lowers you down on it and you gasp hard even though only the tip is in. 

Truth be told, he is resisting the urge to slam you down on it and teach you a very hard lesson, but ever since he noticed you have not had anyone his size before he has been taking his time with you. No, not because he cares, he just thinks your reactions are hilarious. You went from “annoying and cocky asking him to meow for you” to “crying little mess that does not know what to do with herself every time he thrusts” very quickly.  

He watches you intensely, you avoid looking into his eyes, it makes you feel like prey and as if his darkness is about to eat you alive even though he still has the cat ears on. The more he lowers you down on his cock, the more you are starting to believe you will feel it in your guts. He lowers you down very slowly and it gives a whole new meaning to “feeling every inch of him”. 

Your mind is going a bit blank, all you can repeat is “it is so big” and “I feel so full” inside your head. On the outside you are just biting your cheek trying to not burst out in tears like you did earlier. It feels different when your face is not in the pillow, hiding from his cold sharp gaze. This has you feeling new depths of submissiveness and being vulnerable. Though he can kind of notice you are trying your hardest to keep it cool but that is nothing but a challenge to him. This makes him want to break you more. 

You let out a yelp, because he suddenly slams you down on it with no warning and does not stop thrusting even for a second. You are not looking at him directly but you can tell he is smirking at the way you are struggling to keep it together. 

“You were doing a good job trying to keep it together, but you have to try harder to fool me.” He whispers into your ear as one of his hands starts to caress hair. The contrast of his soft demeanor while caressing your hair and his rough thrusts that have your legs almost shaking has your mind going hazy. “I will break you either way, you might as well give in to make this easier for yourself..” he continues in his dark husky voice as his hand leaves your hair now, traveling further down caressing your clit instead. 

It does not take a lot of movement to make you come undone. All that pent up energy from earlier was just waiting to be released, hanging on by a thread. The higher you feel the lower you will come down, and right now you are not just seeing stars you are seeing other galaxies. He grins as he watches you come. Your beautiful eyes are finally letting those tears out, and this time he can look into them since there is no pillow to shove your head in. 

You feel so drained from that one orgasm, you end up just laying down for what feels like several long minutes. This low really matched the high. 

Suddenly he climbs on top of you, his eyes even more dark and playful now. Before you can even react he, flips you on your stomach.

“Wha-” you blurt out. 

“Who said I was done teaching you a lesson? I was going easy on you earlier..” He snickered as he spreads your cheeks apart. 

 © 2024 tomieafterdark | All rights reserved

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #175

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily (haven't missed one yet!) and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please like and reblog if you enjoy - the notes keep me going!

He's gonna be Frank with you. Read the rest of The Frank Program here on Tumblr!

“Welcome back to The Frank Program. I'm Frank, and over there in the corner is my son, Daryl. Say hi, Daryl.”

Daryl looked up from his phone and nodded. “Yeah. Hi.” Then he looked back down and resumed typing.

Frank contorted his face, trying to find a comfortable resting place for his tongue. “Uh huh. Well, anyway, Daryl and I are huge fans of today’s guest! Welcome to the show, Mr. Chad Graves!”

Chad leaned in close to the mic. “Hello, everyone.”

“Oh, uh, you don't have to do that, Mr. Graves. The microphones are set up for a normal sort'a speaking volume.”

“Oh,” Graves chuckled. “Force of habit.”

“Now, for the viewers an’ listeners who aren't familiar with your show, is it alright with ya if I play a clip?”

Chad nodded.

~

“I'm Chad Graves, and these are my Ghost Visions.”

A creepy backwards violin sound played, accompanied by the image of a bleeding skull.

“Together, my friends - Gary, Mick, Junior, and I - investigate strange happenings of haunted places.”

“No way, dude!” Said Junior, holding a voice recorder up to his ear. “Did you fucking hear that?”

The camera panned over to Gary. “I don't think we're alone here.”

“Oh shit.” Chad held his head. “I'm getting a… Ghost Vision.”

~

Frank giggled, giddily. “Man, that ghost voice gives me chills every time. Isn't that right, Daryl?”

Daryl pulled out an AirPod. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, he does get chills. Every time.”

“Great stuff!” Frank grinned. “Great stuff!”

“Thank you, Frank.”

“Now, I gotta ask you, is everything on the show real?”

“Oh yes, very real.”

“Haha! Wow! Real life ghosts! I told you so, Daryl!”

“Real dead ghosts.” Chad responded.

“You’re clever, Mr. Graves. What was the most spiritually active place you've ever investigated?”

“Easy question. That's gotta be that insane asylum-turned-hotel-turned-apartment building-turned-college dorm.”

“The Princeton Loon's Home? Season nine episode thirty?”

“That's the one. We picked up so many voices, it was unreal. We didn't even have time for everything in the cut of the episode that went to air.”

“That's fascinatin’. And am I correct in sayin’ that you brought your laptop with you?”

“Yeah, it's right here.”

“You wouldn't happen to have any unreleased recordings, would you?”

“I do, actually, I do.” He clicked on a file on his messy desktop. “Here, I'll pipe it in.”

~

Mick’s voice could be heard, distant, from the echoey other side. “Are there any spirits here with me in the laundry room? If you’re there, please make a sign.”

Seemingly in response, there was a creaking next to the voice recorder.

~

“Hot darn! What d’ya think that said?”

“Well, Frank, if we slow it down a few notches, de-emphasize the reverb, pull it out of phase and artificially enhance it with machine learning, it sounds like this:”

~

“Are there any spirits here with me in the laundry room? If you’re there, please make a sign.”

“Get me twelve of those nuggets, son.”

~

Frank chuckled. “That's one hungry spirit.”

“I find that most of the ghosts we come across desperately crave the comforts only afforded to the living. Then again, we usually fill in the subtitles on these right before lunch. So it's anyone's guess what they're really saying.”

“Daryl is great at figuring out what these ghosts are sayin’. Ain't ya, Daryl?”

Daryl was deeply engrossed in watching… something.

“Daryl?”

He remained oblivious.

“Daryl!!!”

Daryl shook and immediately paused the video. “What?”

“Come listen to this and tell me what ya think it's sayin’!” Frank turned back to Chad. “I'm tellin’ ya, he gets ‘em like that.” Frank snapped his fingers. “An addition to your team, maybe?”

“We really just like to keep it to the four of us. But sometimes we do bring in guest investigators. You guys seem really enthusiastic, so I'll talk to my producer.”

Daryl held half a headphone to his ear and listened back to it a couple times. He nodded. “It says, ‘don't forget to wash colors on cold.’”

Chad gasped. “No way!” He listened back to it a few times. “I'll be damned, the kid's right! He's a real talent.”

“That's my boy!”

Daryl returned to his seat in the corner and resumed watching.

Frank scowled. “What the hell is so interestin’ over there that you can't pay attention to yer damn hero sittin in the room with ya?!?”

He got up from his chair, walked over, and took the phone from his son's hands. He gasped when he saw, and dropped the phone to the ground. The screen shattered.

Daryl pressed himself into the corner as he looked up at his father and saw rage in his eyes.

“I hate to kick you out like this, Mr. Graves. But I'm afraid we're in need of a father-son chat.”

Chad held up his hands. “No problem. Totally understand. I have to talk to my kids, sometimes, too.”

“As far as the listeners are concerned…” Frank walked up to the microphone, pulled it close, and whispered. “We'll be right back.”

The Frank Program will be back tomorrow in Brain Curd #176. Follow for more.

[milkyetoile]

HEY GUESS WHAT

50,000+ words of fanfiction and poetry, mostly fanfiction, for some of the whackiest ideas and prompts I've gotten. this was probably my most enjoyable NaNoWriMo journey messy personal life notwithstanding

truthfully, I've only finished 1 one-shot out of all of these WIPs. but I'm like 85% done with my draft for A Kind of Magic and maybe 70% for Catligraphy, and I'm confident I can finish both of them by December and achieve a bingo for my Merlin bingo by next week.

plus I actually did manage to write once a day and got this neat lil badge! that was better than my first win where I skipped writing for a few days and just made up for it on other days. I didn't meet the daily word count target, but at least there was something every day :D

I also have a few other Good Omens WIPs that I started, like that Santocielo AU inspired by Stevie's fanart and a post S1 spicy ineffable wives AU, and redoing that post S1 pure fluff that I started in...2019 I think. oh, and that fic for In Love With My Car zine. I am so excited to continue working on these. plus, I had a few other random ideas that I'm still debating whether to continue or not. we'll see!

I will probably be slowing down a bit after Merlin bingo closes to focus on editing. plus, I have some podfics lined up that I put on hold for NaNo. some folks over at the Ace Omens server have also given me permission to work on their fics...I am so honored and thrilled.

anyway, congratulations to all my fellow Wrimos! whether you made it to 50k or didn't, you've already made amazing progress in trying to take on this huge project. well done! I am so proud of all of you <3

anyway, since this was the fic that got me past 50k, here's a new snippet of that Santocielo AU under the cut 😂

“This is all my fault. I really am sorry,” Aziraphale apologized again, close to tears now, which of course, Crowley noticed.

The demon turned his head towards Aziraphale. Even through his glasses, Aziraphale could tell that he was glaring.

“I’m not forgiving you until you take some blessed responsibility for this,” Crowley hissed in ire.

Aziraphale immediately nodded. “Oh, of course, I will take responsibility.” He sighed forlornly. “It is my responsibility, and I botched it.”

Suddenly, something hit him on the forehead. He cried in surprise more than hurt and caught the item as it fell. He glanced down at it and saw that it was Crowley’s sunglasses. Even more shocked, Aziraphale turned back to Crowley.

Crowley was still looking quite cross as he remained curled up on the sofa. But without his glasses, his demeanor seemed slightly softer.

“Less blaming and more acting,” Crowley griped, crossing his arms.

“Oh, right.” Aziraphale stood from his armchair and positioned himself to do the dance, but was interrupted.

“No, you idiot, that’s not what I meant,” Crowley ground out with another roll of his eyes.

“Then…what did you mean?” Aziraphale asked, uncertain.

[innocenceless]

Life Story #002

You cross paths with people in strange ways.

A few years ago (2021?), after I had settled in to Sunali's house with the girls, PJ and I were still seeing each other in undefined ways. Backsliding, if you will. After things blew up in my face and crumbled around us in that god forsaken flooding one bedroom on that guys property, after I made a brave and hushed move for a happy life by emailing Jacqi about the open room, I broke up with PJ and moved out. I still find traces of that time here on Tumblr, saved in my computer drafts, in traces of sent emails and reddit threads--and it breaks my heart. We had a magical few months together in the early stages and I choose to hold fast onto those memories and not be too hard on either of us for how it turned out. Midnight kayak adventures, hiking up hills under the stars with mushroom mead, forging up rivers for miles to magical hot springs. So very special were those times.

After our relationship ended, we both sought out the comfort of our shared embrace and the familiarity of our friendship. Things were complicated and I would shamefully sneak him into my room at night and shuffle him out without telling my housemates. When I finally felt ready to date other people, I let him know. I held my ground with compassion as his heart shuddered through the aftermath of our relationship. I remember one particularly heartbreaking phone call with him crying and asking me why I didn't love him. I assured him that I did, that it wouldn't go away, but that we just weren't a match. I remained compassionate as the reality sunk in. I was proud of myself for not turning bitter or nasty, but empathizing and supporting.

Anyways, after that, I began swimming at the local pool and going to the ceramics studio and riding my bike all around town. Returning to the earth-body things that ground me, and making a routine as I usually do in unsteady plateau moments. I actually only went to the pool once. The funny thing is, I bought a 10 class punch card because you saved 5 bucks and I was sure I would at least go back that many times. The lifeguard was a blonde guy with dreads and an easy confidence who laughed at my bold purchase. I forget how or what happened but he got my number. I am not too keen on white guys with dreads but there was something fascinating there. (perhaps this is a clue in on most of my dating experiences)

We went to a Regional Park (oh now names are escaping me with age?!) in Sebastopol to go for a walk, and ended up sitting on a bench for hours as daylight dwindled and turned to night. Talking about nature experiences, human experiences, astrology and symbols, psychology, life. We had some shared pain and grief losing fathers. He was very focused and hermit-like. I seem to be drawn towards hermits. Those who retreat from popular culture and do their own thing without doubt or shame. I think I would like to be more like these people.

We went on one more walk, because I enjoyed his conversation and outlook, but it became clear he was looking for a serious partnership, and I was simply not. After PJ, I made a promise to myself that it's not worth it to get into a monogamous, committed relationship until I meet someone who really checks all the boxes. At least the important ones. I am done making large, serious compromises for someone. I want a relationship that's easeful.

Anyways, without much of a word and after some loose attempt to make plans again, I never saw this guy again. I can't even remember his name. But the feeling I had sitting on a bench with him during twilight is something that sticks with me. Another thing that stuck with me was his desire to live a life with integrity. That word cut through me straight to the bone. Integrity. Something I feel that I could use more of in my life. Something to steer me. That, and belief in something bigger. I have so often taken short cuts and felt no guilt because I don't think it's harming anyone. But this slow erosion of my own morals has left me feeling empty and unworthy.

[earth616variant]

yellow raincoats | steve rogers

summary | Rainy nights often remind you of that one person. But now, with many things had passed, you don't expect to see that person again while out with your little daughter.

words | 2k+

genres | angst, fluff, parents au, exes to lovers au, second chance au

pairing | steve rogers x reader

warnings | like a single curse

notes | it was raining a lot here. so i had the motivation to finish this one in my drafts HAHAHA anyways, here is my first drabble entry for this series! reblogs and comments are always appreciated. enjoy reading!

main masterlist | series masterlist

“I think it’s not getting any better.”

Continuous drops of rain fell on your open palm while you remained shaded under a shed. People were passing by with their raincoats on or umbrellas over their heads. Soft, slow jazz music played in the background while you and Steve stood outside the jazz club. For your first date after his one-month-long mission, you decided to go to an old, small jazz club around Brooklyn. You found the place after scrolling endlessly on your Instagram page and immediately thought of your boyfriend.

“We can ride your motorcycle and let’s just go home–”

Steve quickly shook his head side by side, not letting you finish your sentence, “No, sweetheart. You might get sick.”

“It’s fine. I’ll head straight to the shower as soon as we get home,” you replied, trying to sound optimistic.

But in all honesty, you don’t want to get wet. Especially while wearing the new dress that you bought for this night. Steve knew that. He was almost breathless when you walked into the living room while he was waiting for you earlier. He is well aware of your efforts for him tonight and the whole time he was out for work. He doesn’t want it to be ruined by this gloomy weather.

“Hmm… let me still think of a better way.” 

You watched Steve look around the place with his hands on his hips. His brows were knitted together while his blue eyes darted against the strong rainfalls. You wondered what was going through his head. It was silent for a few seconds but you don’t mind it. You enjoy studying his facial features while he seemed preoccupied with the rain.  

With him being gone for a while, you always cherish every second you have next to him. He is Captain America for Pete's sake. You already knew what you were signing up for when you first started dating him. His life is always in danger and you will never know when will be the last time you will see him. Suddenly, Steve looked at you like a lightbulb lit inside his head.

“Wait here, I’m just going to go get something,” he told you.

“What? Why? Where are… you going?”

And before you can even finish what were you saying, he stepped out of the shed while skipping between puddles like a little kid. Worry washes off from you and you silently chuckled with his attempt to not splash water. So you wait, sat there waiting patiently for your boyfriend. It was luckily not too long until your squinted eyes spotted Steve jogging back to you with a bright yellow raincoat folded on his right arm.

“How did you get that?” you laughed out of amazement.

“I looked for raincoats in the nearby convenience store. But they were already out of stock. So I bought this to a kid who asked for a picture.” he shared the story proudly.

Your mouth gaped, “A kid?! Oh my god, Steve. You shouldn’t have!”

“No, he’s probably the same age as Peter. I also paid him more than what this raincoat probably cost. Don’t worry.” he chuckled at your concern.  “Plus, I can’t let the rain ruin my best girl’s efforts.”

You rolled your eyes in a light-hearted manner while your boyfriend helps your arms slide into the coat’s sleeves. He towers over you as he latches the buttons one by one.

“You know that I can wear it on my own, right? I am not a baby, Steve.” you sneered when he get to the last button near your chin.

Independent. That would always be the best word to describe you. You were so used to being alone and asking everyone for nothing. Maybe that’s why in your past relationships you just accept the bare minimum from your past partners. But when Steve came, you were overwhelmed at first with how he showered you with care and affection. 

He laughed, “I know, sweetheart. Let me just do all of this while I’m out of duty. Okay?”

You sigh with a smile, giving in. Steve grinned too. And before he puts on the hoodie on you, you felt his calloused palms softly cupping your face. You turned your gaze directly into his blue eyes, where you felt the most comfort after four weeks of not seeing him. Your heart instantly warms, its low beats are the only thing you can hear. And you knew with Steve’s superhuman abilities, he can hear it too.

“Thank you for the coat. I love you.”

Soft jazz music continued to play in the background. It was a simple, quiet moment. The one that you will forever keep with your soul. As you see Steve leaning down, you closed your eyes. Softly, your lips meet. Not many seconds later, your lips broke into a smile. Steve placed another kiss on your forehead before replying,

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Years later, you are still standing under a shed because of the unpleasant weather. But a lot has changed this time– almost everything. People came, people left. Some stayed, died, or simply walked away from your life. It caused a lot of shifts specifically for you. Some of your opinions about things have changed. Your priority from the past were all cleared off and altered. 

You heard that jazz club you went to before closed down two years ago. That then-new dress you bought for that special night is probably living with dust in the hidden part of your closet. And now, you are the one who is putting on a raincoat, in the same shade of yellow you had before, on to another person in front of you.

“Mama, I look like a ducky.” 

Sandra’s little voice competed against the sound of raindrops when she shared her thoughts. You pursed your lips as you ran your eyes down to her little outfit. A bright yellow raincoat and equally bright orange, rubber rain boots. She’s right, you chuckled.

“Well yes, my love. You are my little, baby ducky.” you softly pinched her nose, earning a little giggle from your daughter. “But now, you can step on the puddles without ruining your glitter shoes.”

Sandra nodded, playfully stomping her feet on the damp ground. “Thank you, mama.”

“You’re welcome, love.”

You smile as you felt more relief in your heart. Sandra and her small, adorable actions can simply make all your stress from work go away. She is undeniably your sunshine in your gloomy everyday.

“Where is Mister Waddles?” she suddenly asked.

Your eyebrow raised, “Didn’t you put him in your bag before we left Auntie Wanda’s house?”

Sandra shook her head innocently. You tried not to sigh, avoiding to look anything negative in front of her. Instead, you forced a smile.

“Let’s go back to Auntie Wanda.”

Your daughter happily clapped her hand. You opened your umbrella and held Sandra’s hand as you two strolled back to Wanda’s apartment. This is the third time Sandra left something from your best friend’s house when she is staying there. You assume it’s her way of spending more time with Wanda for the night no matter how short it will be. It’s not like you hated it. You actually found it amusing how creative Sandra is getting. In the first one, she accidentally left her crayons. The second time, her toy teacup. And now, her favorite stuffed toy that she got as a gift. You wondered what’s she is going to forget next.

“Mama, am I going to stay with Auntie Wanda again tomorrow?”

She has been with Sandra the whole day since you were at your work and Wanda presented herself to babysit her. You were starting to feel guilty since she and your other common Avenger friends always lend their hand in taking care of Sandra when you need it. But Wanda quickly shrugged any guilt off you, stating she’s on a few days off from missions and she loved having your daughter with her. 

“I don’t think so, Sandy. It’s Saturday tomorrow–”

“That means we can bake?!” she interjected, excitement was very obvious in her tone. 

“Of course!”

During the happy moment, your phone rang. You paused, and so is Sandra. Then, you reached for your phone in your purse. You rolled your eyes when you see who it was.

“Jason?”

“Oh my god, Y/N. I’m so sorry for calling. I know you hate calls after work–”

“Just tell me what you need, J.” you cut his nervous rambles off.

He cleared his throat from the other line, “I… think I mixed some of my printed documents with yours.”

“So? Check my desk.” you almost hissed. With you and Jason working together in a demanding work environment, you two already understood each other each others’ moods.

“That’s the problem. It’s not here. I think it’s in your bag. You said you were taking home your papers, right?”

You tsked, “Lemme check.”

For a brief moment, you let go of Sandra’s hand, letting her play on the puddles by the sidewalk. You moved your bag from your shoulder to your forearm, speed-scanning the slightly thick stack of papers you slid there.

“Oopsies.”

Your head snapped to Sandra’s direction again when you heard her say that. Your eyes widened. A guy with a cap stood in front of her with almost the whole lower part of his brown pants wet, possibly from your daughter’s mischievousness.

“Wait, I’m with my daughter. Let me call you later when I got home.”

You hang the call, not waiting for your friend to answer. Immediately, you walked in their direction.

“Sandra,” you called your daughter, who immediately run to you. She hid behind you, clutching on your clothes and making your own slacks damp from her raincoat.

“I’m so sorry. My daughter–”

In the exact second you locked your eyes with the man, you felt an uncomfortable twist in your stomach. It was like your mouth automatically ran dry. Your jaw almost dropped as you took a step back. If Sandra didn’t hold onto you tighter, you will probably forget she was behind you and stumble.

Steve fucking Rogers. He did not even age a bit. His hair was styled in the way he had before. His eyes are the same ones that gave you comfort. But the more you stared at it now, your lungs find it harder to breathe. It was like nothing has passed for him and he is still the same person who walked away from your life five years ago.

“Y/N?” 

He called your name softly and your patched heart was broken down into bits all over again. The edge of your sight was starting to get blurry and hazy, indicating how tears were threatening to fall. You looked away, turning to your daughter. 

“Sandy, love, let’s go.”

With no hesitations, you lifted your four-year-old in your arms while balancing the umbrella between your neck and shoulders. You don’t know how the hell Steve Rogers is standing in front of you and breathing the same air as you. But you don’t want to have any kind of conversation with him.

Sandra squirmed, “But Mister Waddles–” 

“We’ll get it tomorrow,” you spoke sternly, not even bothering to look back at Steve again.

Fortunately, you see an upcoming bus stopping at the shed where you and your daughter stayed a little while ago. You never looked back as you two departed from that scene. The rain gave you more hassle in getting on the bus. You were grateful that the driver was patient as he waited for you to let Sandra in first before you close your umbrella. There were a few empty seats. You pointed her to one of them. Your little girl sat on her favorite seat, one next to the window, and you sat next to her.

After a glimpse in the window, you see him again. Steve still stood there, seemingly frozen in place and unbothered by the strong rain or his drenched clothes. You tried not to read what you see in his gaze. Like he was someone you never knew. Like you don’t know that his blue eyes scream sadness and surprise at the same time.

Sandra, your sunshine, who is totally unaware of what’s going on, noticed the man while she was looking out the window. With a smile, she waved at him before the bus began moving.

“Buh-bye!”

FILL IN THE BLANKS TAGLIST

@mariaelizabeth21-blog1

[missblissy]

PLS alastor x chubbyish reader who only wears baggy clothes like MENS 4XL AND HUGE/LONG SHORTS and then finally puts on something tight like a dress -like his reaction SORRY FOR IT BEING SO LONG AND SPECIFIC

(( Of course my friend!! And no worries. IM SOrRY FOr The WAIt---...... I am but a simple lad. The drafts man.... I don't get along with them and they don't get along with me. AGAIN SORRY FOR THE WAIT WEEPS. I also hope you don't mind I did a modern!au...? QwQ I just-.... I just saw such a cute idea in my head.... ANYWAYS. I hope u enjoy!))

You chewed at your bottom lip as you thought it over again. Was this a good idea? You saw yourself in the mirror and slowly turned to the side a little. I don't know... Is this a good look for me? You picked up the hem of the dress and pulled it up a little. For a second to long you saw your theighs and looked away quickly. The dress was much different than the typical outfit you enjoyed. Baggy clothes no more, a dress found a snug but almost perfect fit. Something about it felt to tight, making certain parts of your skin to appear more pressed and chubby. It did show that you had some curves but nothing to gloat about.

It was red. Your idea. Well... the dress and everything was your idea too. You wanted to look nice, or nicer than you normally dressed. You were a comfort over pain person. Sweat pants were a must-have, large shirts, oversized hoodies? Constantly. It was just far more comfortable that way. Why would anyone want to spend all day in a pair of tight jeans riding up in places nothing should ever go? It didn't make sense, and honestly, it also just made you feel a little better to hide behind such baggy clothes sometimes.

You leaned over the sink and fixed your hair. You felt far more nervous than you should be. Maybe it was because he was waiting outside the bathroom, in your bedroom. Alastor took his time enjoying a book though, he wasn't in that much of a hurry. A lazy smile rested on his face as he looked at the clock on the dresser in front of him. He sat on the edge of your shared bed and took in a slow breath, "It's almost seven, dear, we'll have to leave soon." He casually said as he flipped a page of his book.

From within the bathroom, you took yet another look at yourself, "Okay!" You said quickly. The dress wasn't over the top or anything. It kind of looked like a simple high waist, shirt dress. Tight on the top with a button-down and a little fit bow tucked within the collar, similar to a vintage dress from the 50s. You enjoyed the skirt wasn't as tight as the shirt, but it was still fitted even if it fanned out.

You had to turn away from the mirror or you'd get stuck there again for another twenty minutes. You put your hand on the doorknob then paused. You had only been dating Alastor for about two months. So far he found your casual choice of clothes cute. He didn't seem to care what you wore at the end of the day. And honestly, he didn't know what to expect when you came out of the bathroom. He only wore what he typically wore... But that's also because he was a "public figure" who ran a "respectable" podcast. So he didn't have to change much. Still, the same button-down shirt, tucked into his dark dress pants. There was no sweater vest or bowtie, but instead just a regular black tie. However, up until now, Alastor had never seen you in a dress before.

Alastor never asked you to dinner at a restaurant that had a dress code either. Normally the dates were left to late-night fast food runs because you got out of work late. Not this time though. You also couldn't imagine the embarrassment of being caught at a classy restaurant in a hoodie and shorts... Yeah. No thanks. You'd rather not.

After staring at the door for five minutes you snapped out of your trance-like thoughts and twisted the doorknob. You quickly stepped out of the bathroom and stood halfway between the bed and the door. At first, Alastor didn't even look up from his book. He gave you a glance for a second then quickly took a second look and stared at you.

He slapped the book closed with one hand and set it down beside him, "Well, look at that," He smiled at you. You felt your cheeks burn under his gaze, "Go on, do a spin," He twirled a finger quickly.

You felt a smile climb onto your lips as you did a stupid little giggle and lifted your arms with a spin. The little clap he did only made you chuckle more, "Stop it," You rolled your eyes, only teasing him.

Alastor pushed himself off the bed and just as you spun back to face him, he snacked an arm around your waist and used his free hand to grab your own. And suddenly the two of you were dancing. He side-stepped with a quick waltz, making it easy for you to follow him. He hummed a pretty tune and whisked you away.

Little did he pay mind to your big doe eyes and blushing face. He had his eyes closed as if this was just second nature and he didn't even have to think about doing it. Pressed against his chest you could smell the sweet scent of roses mixed with a warm piney cologne. Alastor stopped short and gave you a little spin. The skirt of your dress waved slightly as you left the closeness of Alastor. You held onto his hand as he looked you over.

Alastor quickly pulled you back to him, "You look very lovely, dear," He was only a few inches away from your face. The warmth of his smile bleed into his brown eyes as he brushed his nose against yours, "Utterly stunning, quite literally the most beautiful creature I've ever seen." Oh well, now he was just being over the top. You let out a little hiccup a giggle but it was stifled by the swift kiss that Alastor stole from your lips.

When he pulled away you were left slightly dazed and sad that the kiss was over so soon. But Alastor kept you in his arms as he said, "Maybe we should just stay home," He grinned at you, "I don't know if I care to share you with anyone else-"

You rolled your eyes and pushed him away with a cheeky smirk of your own. Sometimes he was so full of himself, at least he did it in a way that could make you laugh, "Come on," You gave him a light pat on the chest, "We're gonna be late," You walked past him and grabbed your coat off the dress. Alastor remained there with his grin growing larger. His eyes roamed over your body as you walked past. He took in every angle he could get before following after you and closing the door behind him.

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Assumptions

10/01/2021

Pairing: Manuel Neuer x fem!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 6,018

Warnings: rpf, mentions of age gap (not between reader and Manu and nothing illegal) and strong opinions on that, banter, jealousy, infuriation, fluff and cuteness

Summary: The reader finally catches her long time crush Manuel Neuer alone on her uncle's birthday. Things are quickly starting to get heated—sadly it's not the kind of heated she would have liked it to be.

A/N: Most of you probably don't know Manuel Neuer. He is the goalkeeper and captain of Bayern Munich as well as the German National Football Team and every once in a while I find my thoughts drifting towards that adorable and amazingly talented manchild. This story has been sitting in my drafts for far too long and I wasn't sure whether I felt comfortable with publishing it in case it ever got finished. But I found that there is an intolerable lack of Manuel Neuer x reader fics on here, so here it is. I tagged everyone from my general tag list, but I understand if this is not what you signed up for. So sorry in advance and please feel free to ignore this story at your leisure.

Picture found on Pinterest

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

It was only a few minutes to midnight and still the dance floor was as filled as ever, an enchanting mixture of young and old people alike. The bass rolled deep in his stomach, making him even queasier than he already was, and the lights, flickering across the mass of moving bodies in sync to the rhythm of the music, didn’t help either.

Suddenly a figure broke through the outer wall of bodies and made her way over to his table. A small smile crawled over her lips, a little shy but genuine, yet he didn’t feel like returning it. He had hoped that she would change her mind upon the disgruntled look on his face, but much to his dismay, she did nothing of the sort and sat down right next to him, just as a waitress passed the table with a tray of colourful shots. The woman next to him stopped her, before she turned to him.

“Care for a drink?”

Did he care for a drink? He yearned for one.

“No, thanks. I’m not really fond of drinking.”

“Shame,” she shrugged, her smile growing a bit wider when she took two shots from the tray anyway. For a second he thought she might actually force him to drink with her, but then she placed down the two glasses in front of herself. Raising her first glass to him, she gulped it down in one swig, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand afterwards.

“Do you care for a dance then?” She nodded over to the dance floor, her eyes and body inviting him to take the offer.

He found that he somehow couldn’t hold her gaze when he answered, “I’m afraid I’m also not very fond of dancing.”

Her forearms resting on the table, she leaned closer, obviously not taking the hint that he just wanted to be left in peace and quiet.

“Then what are you fond of?”

“I think you know pretty well what I’m fond of.” To his own surprise he sounded even harsher than he had attempted to, but the last thing he needed right now was an eager fan trying to engage him in a conversation.

“I do,” she retorted undeterred, “but that’s not what I wanted to know. See, you might not have noticed through all your sulking, but I was actually interested in you as a person, not as a footballer.”

He huffed, although he wasn’t sure she had heard him above the music.

“And you might have noticed that I am not interested in talking about private stuff to complete strangers.”

Sure, he was being massively impolite, but at least he hoped that this would do the trick now. But instead of finally leaving him alone, she shot him an amused look.

“Ooooh, grumpy, aren’t we?”

Now it was him who leaned in closer, making sure she could hear him properly. “Look, it’s nothing personal, okay? I just...it wasn’t such a great evening for me.”

Unintentionally his eyes wandered over to the dance floor for a split second, where a very young, very blonde girl was dancing happily among his teammates and their wives and girlfriends. Cursing himself, he looked over to the woman by his side carefully, hoping she hadn’t noticed. But of course she had, her eyes still fixed on the girl.

“Ah, I see.” She turned to him and the glint in her eyes made his stomach turn. “Puberty is a bitch, eh?”

“Excuse me?” he spat, equal parts bewildered and stunned.

“You heard me alright.”

Who did she think she was? Impertinent woman.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” The volume of his voice must have slipped his control a little, as he noticed a group of elderly men standing nearby turn into his direction. Still the woman’s smile never left her face, appeasing the men who turned away again.

“Really? After all I have to sit here with a pissed thirty something man who refuses to acknowledge he let his hormones get the best of him.”

“Whoa! Okay, first of all, it was you who decided to come and sit at this table and second, again, none of your goddamn business.”

Her answer was a simple grin, still not fazed by his anger in the slightest. It almost felt as if she was enjoying to get him riled up.

“You’re right.”

“And?”

“What do you mean ‘and’?”

He rolled his eyes heavily. Why couldn’t she just leave?

“You know, that phrase usually goes with an apology. Like ‘You’re right. Sorry I assumed you’re having a mid-life crisis and bang a chick that is 15 years your junior to boost your fragile ego.’”

“Do you?”

Inhaling deeply, he tried to calm himself a little. After all, he couldn’t afford to yell at her again, not that he didn’t want to, but causing even more unwanted attention was not in his plans for tonight.

“I didn't say that.”

“Well actually,” she looked at him triumphantly, “you kind of did. I never said you were having a midlife crisis or that you need her to boost your ego. Those were your words. And seeing that my assumptions caused a reaction like that, I’m afraid I can’t really say I’m sorry either.”

All right, that was it. Enough was enough.

“Look, I think I have an assumption for you too, lady. I’m starting to assume that you only came over here to rile me up further. And guess what, mission completed. So why don’t you do us both a favour and head off to pester someone else now?”

She was quiet for a moment and for the first time, the cheeky smile left her beautiful, burgundy lips. He had expected her to be a bit shaken at least, maybe even as pissed as himself, and yet the next words were spoken with such dignity that he couldn’t help but admire her a little for it.

“Oh, I would love to say you’re right again, but I’m afraid I can’t this time. And since we seem to have warmed up to each other quite a bit by now, I feel it’s okay to be completely honest with you.” She paused a second, simply for the effect, he guessed and her warm eyes never left his. “I came to sit with you because you looked miserable. Still do, by the way. And I thought you might need an actual grown up to talk to. But it seems I was wrong. You’re just a pouty manchild, like the rest of them.”

She waved her arm, pointing over at the dancing crowd of his friends and their spouses. His eyes followed her gesture and when he laid eyes on the heart of the matter, a hot flush of rage began to swirl through his veins, making his hands clench into fists. Fully set on giving her a piece of his mind, not caring who might hear him at this point, he turned to her again. But the familiar figure that had somehow entered the picture without his notice made him stop in his tracks.

“Here you are, sweetie.” The man cooed, laying his large hand on her shoulder in a protective gesture. “I almost got the feeling you were hiding from me since I made you promise to dance with me tonight.”

She twisted her slender neck to look up at his gentle face, her attention making him smile sweetly at her.

“You know I’d never do that to you, Uncle Hans, especially not on your birthday. I just thought your no. 1 goalkeeper here was in need of some mature company, but clearly he is perfectly happy with the way things are.”

Bewilderment flickered behind the coach’s gaze as he looked between his niece and one of his best players and Manuel was sure that this might not be the last time they would speak about this matter.

“So then, may I have that dance now, sweetheart?”

“With pleasure.” Manuel watched almost transfixed as she gracefully took her uncle’s hand and stood up. It was only now that he noticed how perfectly her dress showed off her voluptuous curves. He was almost certain that she would leave without another word when once again she proved him wrong. Turning on her heels, she grabbed the remaining shot and gulped it down in one large swig before she looked down at him, almost as regal as a queen.

“Have a pleasant evening, Mister Neuer. I’m sorry I can’t say I enjoyed our conversation more. Oh, and just in case you should ever feel in need to talk to a grown up, don’t call.”

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

She could still feel his piercing look on her back as Hansi led her through the crowd and away from him. They had just begun to dance when the song changed and a much slower tune echoed through the large room. With a smug grin, her uncle pulled her closer, bringing his hand to the small of her back. Cheek to cheek he swayed her to the beat and she could feel that her mind was almost beginning to slow down, when he decided to pick up a conversation.

“Will you tell me what that was all about?”

She bit her lip like a little girl that was about to be scolded. “Do I have to?”

He chuckled deeply, the vibration rumbling against her chest and she could easily imagine the self-satisfied grin on his face.

“I’m certainly not going to force you. It’s just, you know, I always thought you kind of liked him.”

Instantly, she could feel her face heat up. How could he possibly know that?

“True. Liked, as in past tense. And besides, it’s not that I actually know him, personally, I mean. You could perhaps say I admire his talent, at most. And he also may be kind of easy on the eyes.”

She had become more and more quiet while she spoke, merely mumbling the last sentence. But he had heard her nonetheless, her silliness making his lips twitch in amusement.

“Hm. I clearly remember your aunt begging me to invite him over for a barbecue party last summer, telling me that you wouldn’t shut up about his quiet reserve, his amazing performance on the field and his stunning smile. Sadly he didn’t have time.”

She gulped audibly, tensing up a little in his arms, which made him enjoy their little talk even more. “So, what changed your mind?”

“He did,” she said a little too quickly, before she sighed so heavily that her uncle almost regretted bringing this topic up after all. “It’s just, I don’t understand his choice in women. I mean, he could choose literally anyone, so why her? I mean, she clearly doesn’t make him happy.”

“And how do you know that? You have spoken to him for what? Like five minutes?” He turned them around, making her face the gloomy goalie once more, before he went on. “I might be wrong, sweetheart, but I think you’re just jealous.”

Over his shoulder her gaze met Manuel’s for a split second before his eyes shot to his right, where the blonde teenager stepped into the picture, blocking him from view. She sat down on his lap, her arms dragging around his neck possessively, as her lips met his in a feverish kiss. Averting her gaze immediately, her eyes darkened and her heart clenched heavily in her chest.

“If by jealous you mean disenchanted, you’re right.”

Her bitter words made him loosen his grip on her so that he could see her face, and the hurt in her eyes pained him more than he cared for.

“I know you probably won’t believe me, but he really is a good person.”

She scoffed while her incredulous eyes landed on her uncle’s soft, blue orbs. “Well, he certainly hid that pretty well.”

He gave her a tight lipped smile. “I think he’s just lost his way a little at the moment.”

“So you think I’m right then?”

The excited sparkle in her eyes made him regret his honest words a little.

“I didn’t say that.” He protested strongly. In the end it was not for him to judge his players’ private lives. “After all he is a grown man and he can decide for himself.” He could see her face fall again and so he was quick to add, “Nevertheless, I don’t think you’re completely wrong either.”

He was very pleased to see that his words had caused a small smile to crawl back to her pretty lips. He almost felt like a proud father and when she finally leaned back in a bit closer, her forgiving gesture almost made him a bit bold.

“So, uhm, one more question, sweetheart. In the unlikely event that he should after all need a grown woman to talk to, can I give him your number?”

“Certainly not,” she insisted with a steady voice, but when she looked at him, the adorable grin on her face left no doubt that this was the biggest lie she had ever told.

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

Manuel was furious as he watched her leave towards the dance floor with the coach. How could she dare call him out like that and then leave without giving him the chance to set her straight? His eyes fixed on her, he watched as Flick pulled her closer, his eyes following her uncle’s hand to the small of her back. Being the gentleman he was, his hand had found the only spot on her back that was actually covered by the dark red fabric of her dress. And for a second he imagined what it might actually feel like to let his hand wander upwards until it covered her bare skin. Or maybe he could let it slip down a few inches, until his fingers would grasp the soft flesh of her behind. He had just been able to fully picture the exact feeling of her body pressed up to his when he could feel the man who actually held her in his arms catch his indecent look on his niece’s back. Immediately he sat up straight, averting his gaze, completely missing the amused smile on the other man’s face, and when he turned back to face him, he almost lost it when he found her sparkling eyes instead.

He was still trying to figure out what had happened, when he heard a familiar voice calling him.

“Hey, babe.” The high pitched noise made him flinch and instinctively his eyes shot to his right, just in time to pull his arms away before she slumped down onto his lap clumsily. She laid it on thickly as her arms wrapped around his neck.

“I missed you on the dance floor, honey bun. Why don’t you come dance with me?”

And before he even had the chance to answer, her lips crashed down on his mouth almost painfully, her tongue forcing his lips to open. The stench of alcohol filled his mouth and he pushed her drunken form off of him determinedly. Before she even had the chance to protest, he lifted her up and placed her in his chair.

“I don’t think dancing is a good idea in your condition.” She glared at him, but then she seemed to have forgotten what for and her lips turned up into a sheepish smile.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“Look, why don’t you just stay here and I get you a nice, big glass of water to sober you up a little?”

She began to nod, but then her eyes lost focus und she stared past him at god knows what.

“All right, I’ll be back in a sec. Don’t go anywhere.”

Quickly he made his way over to the counter and ordered a whole bottle of water, when he felt the slap of a hand on his left shoulder.

“Wow, you look even more frustrated than after our knock out at the World Cup in 2018. What happened?”

“Don’t ask.” He sighed as he turned around to face his friend. Manuel hoped that he would accept his wish, but when he saw the apologetic look on Thomas’ face, he instantly knew that he wouldn’t drop the topic.

“Too late. I just did.”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, the next words were spoken more to himself than to his teammate.

“Great, just what I need. Another pain in my ass.”

“Another? Who was the first then?” Obviously Thomas had taken no offence and sounded a bit too cheerful for Manuel’s liking.

“She.”

He looked over at the dance floor, where the impertinent woman was just sending her uncle the most beautiful, cheeky grin he had ever seen.

“Who? Y/N?” his friend asked incredulously.

Y/N. So that was her name.

“You know that annoying woman?”

“I do, although I can’t really say she’s annoying. Met her at the coach’s home once. She seemed rather sweet and intelligent to me.”

“She certainly hid that pretty well,” Manuel growled under his breath, earning him a surprised frown from Thomas.

“Are you gonna stand here and stare daggers at her or are you gonna tell me what she did to make you throw a fit?”

“She approached me out of nowhere to tell me that I’m dating a teenager to compensate my inability to commit to a partner on eye level.”

Thomas let his words sink in for a while.

“That doesn’t really sound like her. I mean, what reason would she have to come at you like that? She doesn’t even know you.”

Manuel sighed, thinking about the way she had somehow coaxed the statements from him instead of making them herself.

“Well, she might have phrased it differently,” he admitted meekly. That seemed to spark Thomas’ interest even further and he could feel his expectant look on him, pressing him to finally tell the whole truth.

“Actually she didn’t say it like that. She only made an allusion and made me somehow say those things myself.”

“Mhm. And exactly what allusion did she make?”

Manuel rolled his eyes again, his ego still fighting to repeat her words out loud.

”She said puberty was a bitch, clearly hinting at the fact that she thought my girlfriend was too young for me.”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence when Thomas’ roaring laughter filled the air.

“Now that does sound more like her.”

He needed a bit to contain himself when he suddenly looked up at Manuel with an unusually serious expression on his face.

“And I have to admit, Manu, she kind of has a fair point there.”

“What?”

Manuel could not believe his ears.

“Come on, man. It’s what everyone thinks. She just said it out loud.”

“Fuck you.”

But instead of rising to his expletive, Thomas just looked at him sympathetically. Pushing himself off of the counter, he pat his shoulder in an attempt to encourage him a little, ready to leave him to his self-denial.

But then he stopped. “You know, I personally didn’t have a problem with it. You’re an adult, you can make your own choices. As long as you’re happy, right? But the truth is, Manu, I don’t think you are. Not anymore.”

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

“See, I told you he wouldn’t be here. No need for all the panic beforehand.”

She narrowed her eyes at her cousin, shooting her a dirty look.

“Yeah, and I hope it’ll stay that way. Oh, and for the record: I wasn’t panicking at all, it was just you and your sister’s sudden eagerness to lure me here that got me suspicious and nervous in the first place.”

“We didn’t lure you here,” her other cousin piped up a little offendedly. “We simply wanted to spend some time with you. Come on, it’s been what, like 4 months now? Since you moved to Munich three years ago, we hardly get to see you anymore.”

“You and our father,” her sister added quickly. “So it seemed the best option to kill two birds with one stone and bring you along. After all it’s called a family day, right?”

Y/N sighed, not fully convinced, but finally ready to let the topic go.

“Right. Let’s just hope for your sakes that there will be no surprises today that might prove your guilt after all.”

“How are my girls doing?” she heard a familiar voice from behind her back, turning towards her favourite uncle with a beaming smile. What she didn’t see, however, was the brief look that was exchanged between her cousins as soon as she had turned her back, proving exactly what she had suspected all along.

“We’re good, dad. Actually, we’re more than good, we’re excellent,” the older cousin chirped.

“Great.” He paused a moment, but it was clear that he had more to say. Rocking back and forth on his feet, he looked from one woman to the other. “So,” he began carefully, before a huge Cheshire grin spread across his face. “I hope you all reserved a dance for me tonight.”

“Oh, no, daddy, not again.”

“Please, don’t make us do this.”

“There will be dancing here? If you had told me that beforehand, I certainly wouldn’t have come.”

“Of course there will be dancing. I thought that was obvious.” He had to try very hard to look a little slighted, while he actually drew a horrendous amount of amusement from their antics. “Remember, girls, we have a tradition to uphold. Whenever there is some dancing at a party, you have to reserve at least one dance for me. That’s the rule.”

And with that he turned and left them on their own again.

“Ugh, why does he always have to do that to us?” her younger cousin whined.

“Oh stop it, silly. You’re the one who likes it the most and everyone knows.”

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

She had been the first to pay tribute to the family tradition and after a very exhausting Discofox dance session, luckily one of her cousins had taken over from her. Kicking off her heels, she welcomed the feel of the cool grass underneath the soles of her feet. Walking over to one of the empty tables, she slumped down heavily into one of the comfortable looking chairs. With a contented smile she let herself fall back against the backrest, closing her eyes and breathing in the mild air of the warm summer night.

“Care for a drink?”

His voice made her jump, sitting up straight immediately, eyes shooting wide open. And there he was, two shot glasses in his large hands and grinning down at her, obviously very satisfied with the slight scare he had just given her. He looked amazing, the smug bastard, in his casual jeans and white shirt, two buttons undone, topped with a sporty black jacket. She highly doubted that she had ever seen a finer man in her entire life. Luckily that didn’t make her lose her sharp tongue.

“And here I am thinking that you weren’t fond of alcohol. What happened?”

He smiled sheepishly, only one corner of his mouth tugged up, when he handed her her drink. He took his time, grabbing a chair and positioning it opposite hers, then sitting down carefully, not wanting to spill the shot all over his chest. She had already come to think that he was trying to avoid her question after all, when he locked eyes with her and finally began to speak.

“Hm. It’s been a while since I last saw you. A lot of things happened, you know. Maybe it was finally time for me to grow up.”

“Hear, hear.” With a mischievous smile she raised her glass. “To your coming of age, then.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “If you insist.”

His magnificent blue eyes never left hers while they chinked glasses, and a second later she could feel the more than welcome liquid moisturising her suddenly very dry mouth.

With a thud, their glasses landed on the table, both of them chuckling like giddy children when their eyes found each other again and then, for a moment, there was nothing but silence. The world seemed to have zoned out, leaving behind nothing but his aquamarine orbs and the wild smile on his face.

Just gradually, the world seemed to set back in again. There was the monotonous clitter of the crickets, overlaid by the muffled sound of the music that was carried over by a soft breeze, and loudest of all she could hear the beating of her own heart against her chest.

“What else has changed now that you are a proper adult?” she heard herself ask, not having the faintest idea where those words came from and how the hell she managed to deliver them so smoothly when her whole body seemed to have gotten out of control.

He took a quick look over his shoulder, his thumb pointing in the same direction.

“If you mean the dancing, I’m still not very fond of that.” Her face must have fallen a little because he was quick to add, “Except...”

“Except what?”

His eyes landed back on hers and she almost choked on her hitching breath.

“Except I think I could make an exception for the right partner.”

From the corner of her eye she registered a movement between their bodies, but she was hesitant to let her view stray from his captivating appearance. At last it was something in his eyes that looked at her expectantly which finally made her snap out of her trance.

Looking down at his hand sheepishly, it took her a while to fathom that he was actually asking her to dance with him.

Slowly her eyes wandered up to his again, asking a silent question, which he answered with an almost imperceptible rise of his eyebrows. And before she knew what she was doing, she laid her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.

He had just turned towards the source of the music, when she suddenly held him back.

“No, wait.”

With a puzzled look he did what she asked of him and let her twist him back around.

“Why don’t we just stay here? The music is loud enough anyway.”

A gentle smile curved his lips. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

She nodded softly, her teeth biting down on her lip in excitement.

And before she knew what was happening, she found herself secured against his chest by his firm grip. It felt like being pressed up to a hot furnace which she would usually have appreciated any other time, but on a sweltry night like this and in a place she had wanted to be in for so long, it was pure torture. And as if this wasn’t bad enough already, his strong fingers pressed down on her lower back, threatening to scorch her even through the fabric of her blouse as he pulled her an impossible inch further into him. He was so close now that she could sense the heat radiating off his cheek as well, bringing along a whiff of his enticing scent and she couldn’t help but close her eyes as she inhaled deeply and her head began to spin. It was odd, but her mind was completely blank by now, blank except for one thought and her lips spread into a blissful smile as she repeated it in her head again and again, relishing in the feeling that if either of them moved just the tiniest bit, their cheeks would inevitably touch.

Slowly they moved and despite the unhurried shift of their bodies her heart was beating so violently that she thought it pondered jumping out of her chest to meet his. There was no chance he wouldn’t be able to tell from the way he held her, and when he finally drew away a tad to look at her, she fully expected him to call her out for it.

But he didn’t. Instead his sinfully soft lips curled into a reassuring smile before he spoke.

“You were right.”

“I beg your pardon?”

A cute chuckle escaped his mouth, leaving the corners of his eyes crinkled in the most beautiful display of amusement.

“About what you said at your uncle’s birthday party.”

“Oh.” She had said a lot that evening, words that she had come to regret later and remembering them now set her cheeks on fire. “About what exactly?”

“About everything,” he admitted without hesitation, yet he couldn’t hide the spark of misery that flitted across his sea blue orbs. “Didn’t take me very long after that night to finally see things clearly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” It was true. Although she knew that she probably sounded like a madwoman after everything she had confronted him with back then, at least the frown on his forehead seemed to confirm that. “I truly am. I really would have liked to see you happy.” Even if it was with that girl.

She was glad she had managed to keep that last bit to herself. She had no idea why she had said that she was sorry in the first place, but judging by the wild smile on his face it must have been the right words after all.

“Well, I certainly am happier now than I was that night.” He shrugged. “So, thank you, I guess.”

She huffed. “For what? Making absolutely inappropriate remarks on your relationship? I shouldn’t have done that. I know that now. So it should be me who is sorry here, don’t you think?”

She could feel his fingertips press into the soft flesh of her back.

“Don’t be. I guess you were exactly what I needed.” It took him a second before he realised what he had just said. “I mean it. It was exactly what I needed.”

His eyes snapped to the left and she was thankful that he couldn’t see the grin that decorated her lips as she watched the treacherous colour creep into his cheeks, spreading all the way to his ears. For a while he didn’t say another word, probably still trying feverishly to figure out a way to take back his slip of the tongue. And when he finally spoke, she wished he hadn’t.

“There is one thing though that I have gone over and over in my mind. But no matter how long I think about it, it just won’t make sense.”

She already knew that she wouldn’t like where this conversation was heading now, but she found herself asking nonetheless.

“And what is that?”

His head turned without a warning as his eyes searched her gaze and for the blink of an eye his lips came so close that she couldn’t say if they had actually brushed along hers or if her needy heart had just imagined their brief touch. He didn’t answer her question right away, his breath blending with her own in the narrow space between their faces and suddenly she wasn’t so sure anymore if she had really only dreamed up their fleeting foretaste of a kiss.

“Why did you do it?” Panic rose in her chest. She hadn’t done anything. After all it had been him who had turned his head. But as he went on, she realised that he wasn’t referring to that at all and the suffocating distress eased away bit by bit. “I mean, we didn’t even know each other when you decided to come at me like that.”

Now it was her who had to avert her gaze.

“I think I don’t really want to answer that question.”

“Why not?” His voice was so soft and gentle, making it even harder to answer him.

“Because the truth might be kind of ugly.”

“But the outcome wasn’t, so I think I’ll take that risk.”

Her feet stopped their mechanical movements as a violent shiver ran down her spine. So this would be it then. It would be over before it had really begun. Pity. But at least she would have the memory of these few minutes, of his genuine smile and the way he had held her tight against his chest. With a deep sigh she bid their daydream of a dance goodbye.

“I could tell you now that it was for some noble reason, but at the bottom of it all I think it was nothing more than jealousy that drew me to your table that night. I had been unable to ignore you all evening — ignore her. The way she behaved like a spoiled brat, drinking and losing control, not caring in the least that she not only made a fool out of herself but of you as well. God, I hated her in that moment, for having everything I ever wanted and riding roughshod over it. And when I saw you sitting there, looking so utterly crestfallen, somehow I couldn’t help it.”

An undefinable silence settled between them and the only sound that remained was the beat of the music wafting over from the party that went on behind his back. The faint whisper of the melody seemed to push itself up between them and tear them further apart, exactly as she had expected. And just like the bass, her heartbeat slowed until it died away completely.

It was over and everything she wanted to do was let go of his hand so she could do him the favour of leaving, but to her astonishment he refused to set her free. And rather then releasing her from his grip, he squeezed her hand, briefly and just once, but it was enough for her to find the courage and face him. But instead of finding a frown or a scornful pair of eyes, his blinding smile made her forget to breathe for a moment.

“I had hoped you might say that.” And with that he pulled her into his arms again and continued swaying her to the music as if she had not just revealed her repulsive self to him. Her brain still a step behind, she couldn’t do anything but stare up at him stupidly.

“What? Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” And when she shook her head like a petrified imbecile, an amused chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Because even though your behaviour was extremely infuriating, I have to admit that I like you. And asking you out on a date will be so much easier now that I know you like me too.”

With a violent jolt, the useless muscle inside her chest started to beat again, its heavy pounding filling her ears with white noise as the world around her started to spin. Unable to stop the motion, she felt herself leaning in, her nails digging into the undoubtedly expensive fabric of his jacket as she desperately tried to gain control over her unruly body.

“So, will you go out with me?”

It seemed like an eternity until she finally mustered the strength for a mechanical nod. Neither had she noticed in her struggle that he had stopped dancing, nor that the priceless look on her face had made his eyes and heart go soft for her.

“Great. That’s settled then. When are you free?”

It was only when he took a step back, taking his warmth with him as his hand slipped out of hers, that she snapped out of her trance.

“Now.”

“Now? Like right now?”

More like now as in before she could screw everything up again.

“Yes, why not? I know you have a busy schedule, so finding a date when we are both free might be tough. And above that, it is a beautiful summer evening.”

Had all those words really fallen from her mouth right now? Embarrassed about her lack of composure, her hand flew up to her mouth, making him smile again.

“I guess you have a fair point there.” And just like that, his hand was there again, fingers entwining slowly with hers like they had never been meant for anyone else. “All right then, let’s get out of here.”

***

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[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 5)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: nearly 2.5k

warnings: vague description of a wet dream, some sensual implied stuff (??), 

moodboard and inspiration credit to @evnscvll​

In all your life, you’d never had a wet dream.  Not even in high school when so many of your peers were coping with puberty and budding sexuality in similar ways— not even when you’d wanted to have one about David Kapoor, the cutest guy in senior year who didn’t even know you existed but that you were somehow convinced was going to fall madly in love with you one day.  

It never did work out for you two, but you’d finally managed to have a wet dream.  This one, though, was about Sebastian.

In your dream he had cornered you in the kitchen, kissing you deeply before tossing you onto the table and— well, the rest doesn’t bear repeating.  It was all very ‘discount bin romance novel’ wasn’t it?  The exotic, rugged farm boy roughly taking the formerly-prudish businesswoman in the middle of the house, too deep in the throes of passion to care if someone walking by saw them.

You didn’t find it all that sexy by the time you woke up; moreso just humorous.  That’s preposterous, you thought to yourself, nobody’s ever gonna love me like that.

It was something your husband had said to you once.  You couldn’t even remember what the context was anymore, but clearly it had had an impact on you to be repeating it internally now.  Just last week, Mrs. Alberti had gotten on your case for speaking poorly of yourself.  Clearly, the things you said about yourself to others were nothing against what you said about yourself to yourself.

Your papers had only taken a day to dry, but the ink was pretty severely smudged.  Knowing your publisher wouldn’t accept them in a manuscript, you resolved to retyping the most damaged ones— a good mindless task to do while you pondered your next steps plot-wise.  You’d seen Sebastian less for the past week, and it was no accident; you’d been avoiding him because you were trying to nip this in the bud before it got any worse.  Your divorce isn’t final yet, you need to heal.  This is fantasy, not reality.  You barely know each other.  Your divorce isn’t final.  Your divorce.  Isn’t.  Final.

That was the mantra you found yourself repeating as you retyped the waterlogged sheets; so much for the plot-pondering plan, eh?

You heard someone coming up the stairs, and you knew it was him because the steps were coming too quickly to be Mrs. Alberti.  “Come in,” you instructed before he’d even knocked.  

“Bună ziua,” he greeted as he opened the door, leaning inside.  “Am pregătit cina, ai vrea să mănânci?”

“Hm?” you asked as you turned around in your chair, adjusting your reading glasses.  However, his question became more obvious through context when you saw he had oven mitts and an apron on, and was holding a wooden spoon.  “Oh, um, I’ll be down for dinner in a minute.  Soon.”  You held up a few fingers, hoping he would successfully interpret them into minutes.

“Arăți bine în ochelarii aceia,” he motioned, pointing towards you.

“I’m sorry… what?” you asked, not sure at all what he could be talking about.

“Ochelari. Sunt drăguți,” he re-emphasized, but it was useless as you gave him another confused look.  He sighed, straightening up a bit as he began a new method: “Îmi plac,” he said, pointing to himself and then giving a thumbs up, “ochelarii tăi,” he pointed to you, and then made circles with his fingers and brought them up to his eyes.  

You laughed a little, but you were pretty sure you got what he meant.  “You like my glasses?” you clarified, reaching up to wiggle them on your face a bit.

“Da,” he grinned.  “Pari inteligent.”

“Thank you,” you nodded, and he nodded back as he shut the door and his footsteps faded back into the kitchen.

Once a few more pages had been redone, you gave your hair a quick combing before heading down for dinner with Sebastian.  It smelled a little strange by the time you went downstairs, but when you swung open the door to the kitchen, you were instantly hit with a wave of acidic air, forcing you to wince and cough.  Even that didn’t help much, and you forced your eyes shut as they stung.

“Jesus Christ,” you yelped, “the fuck are you cooking?  Tear gas?!”

“Oțetul te irită?” he asked, not sounding as concerned as you would’ve hoped considering your obvious pain.  It was like you could taste it in the air, and it wasn’t until you managed to open your burning eyes again that you realized what it was: vinegar, in a huge jug right next to the pot he was boiling it in.

“You’re boiling vinegar?” you realized incredulously.  “God, Europeans are fucking weird.”

He just looked back at you with bewildered bemusement.

“In America,” you tried to explain, “we don’t eat vinegar.  We clean our floors with it.”  You pointed to the jug and made a motion meant to indicate scrubbing a surface, and he laughed a little.

“Americanii sunt prea sensibili,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand, turning back to the stove to stir his pot of disinfectant which he apparently planned to serve you as a meal.  “Am avut ciorbă de oțet de când eram copil.”

You’d typically considered yourself an adventurous eater— even with vinegar-pickled things, like kim chi which you’d learned to acquire a taste for— but this one put you to the test.  Considering the smell alone had singed your sinuses, you were nervous what would become of your innocent tastebuds.  But after he served the soup (a dark orange color, so apparently it wasn’t just the boiled vinegar) into a bowl for you and another for himself, you found the taste of it oddly pleasant when you sipped it gently from your hesitant little spoon.

“Vezi, nu e așa de rău,” he smiled gently as he watched you fail to recoil in disgust from the flavor.

“Just like ma used to make, huh?” you chuckled as he ate the soup with incredible speed, even going as far as to lift the bowl to his lips and drink the last few sips that way.

Eating dinner in silence with him was unexpectedly comfortable.  “You wanna know something funny?” you found yourself mumbling aloud.  “I enjoy talking to you more than anyone I ever did back home, and you can’t even understand me.”

His smile softened as he stared back at you, apparently sensing the change in your tone as you spoke.

“See, right there, that’s it: you’re listening to me.  You know it’s useless, you know you won’t be able to tell what I’m talking about, but you’re listening anyways.  Over two billion English speakers on the planet and none of them have listened to me like you do.”

Then you heard yourself, and it was so heart-breaking that you had no choice but to laugh.  It was just a chuckle at first, but then you couldn’t stop it, even when you realized how confused Sebastian would be.  Everything is funnier when you know you shouldn’t laugh, and soon you could barely breathe as tears warmed your eyes from the force of it.

“I’m sorry,” you tried to spit out between your fits of laughter, but it was barely comprehensible anyways.  Sebastian began to laugh with you, if hesitantly and with a hint of confusion.

“De ce râdem?” he asked gently.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, calming down a bit, “I’m sorry I just… I was just imagining what my husband would say, if he knew I was here…” you trailed off as you laughed again, starting over.  “If he knew I was here, falling for someone I’ve never even spoken with.”  You shook your head, resting your face in your hands as you chuckled lightly.  “Oh, he’d hate this.  He’d tell me I was out of my mind.”

With a slow sigh, your laughter subsided as you wiped the wetness from your eyes.  

“He’d be right, but… I don’t really care,” you decided.  “He’s not here.  If he wanted to find me, he would.  And maybe it’s because he’d hate this that I’m having so much goddamn fun doing it.”

When you looked at Sebastian again, his face was serious, yet anything but stern.  Suddenly, you weren’t thinking about your husband anymore.  Of course you logically understood how odd this all was, how impossible it was for you to be slowly finding yourself in love with someone like him, but it felt right, and true, and real.  It made no sense, and yet it made perfect sense in every way that mattered.  

“I’ll help you clean,” you offered as you stood up, realizing you’d gotten lost in your train of thought and probably stared at him for a bit too long.  He stood up with you, helping you gather the used dishes and letting you wash them in the sink while he put the remaining soup in the refrigerator as leftovers for another time.  “I’ll cook for you tomorrow,” you promised, “something real bland, like the English cook.”

“Sper că nu intenționați să gătiți pentru mine cândva, nu suport mâncarea occidentală,” he mumbled as he continued to wipe down the countertop with a damp towel.

With the kitchen clean, you knew you should get back to writing your book, but you were compelled instead to read somebody else’s— so, as you slipped onto the couch with one of a few of your favorites that you’d brought with you, Sebastian summoned the same copy of Dracula you’d seen him reading a few times and took the loveseat.  Not much else happened after that, save for you shivering from a draft and him tossing a throw blanket on you.  

“Ce carte citești?” he asked you eventually, breaking the silence.  When you looked up, he was pointing at your book.  “Book?”

“Right,” you laughed, “I taught you that.  My book, uh, it’s good.”  You closed it, leaving your finger inside to mark your place as you showed him the front cover.  “On the Road?  Ever heard of it?”

He just cocked his head to the side.

“Jack Kerouac?” you continued.  “It’s about going on a long journey in search of… freedom.”

“Acesta este cel despre zombi?” he asked.

“Sure,” you nodded, wishing more than ever that you could know what he was saying.  He smiled and got back to his own reading.  Indulging yourself for a moment, you watched his face as it fell into a neutral expression while he read, his eyes trailing along the page as he continued to read.  You didn’t realize it, but when you returned to reading your own book, he got his chance to look at you.

A long day of writing meant you had more than earned an evening to relax by the fire; late summer became early fall, and early fall turned into the need for a fireplace so much faster than you’d anticipated.  The days were temperate, sure, but as the sun began to sink lower, so did the warmth.  You started your evening with a hot shower, though you didn’t let yourself get too greedy with the limited supply of hot water, knowing Sebastian relied on the same supply for his own baths.  When you finished, you dressed yourself in a fluffy lavender robe, feeling especially pampered when you put on a little moisturizer before heading downstairs to cozy up with the fire.  You were already getting chilly, the heat from the shower fading as your wet hair and bare feet cooled you quickly.  Therefore, it was more of a scurry to the fireplace, which you hadn’t expected Sebastian to be tending or you wouldn’t have come down in a robe.  He’d seen you in less (namely, his shirt and nothing else, which was horrifically embarrassing) but something about this felt more intimate, like all your defenses had been washed away in the shower, too.  Didn’t help that he was shirtless, again.  Wasn’t he cold in this weather?!  Must be all that muscle keeping him warm.

“Bună seara,” he greeted.

“Good evening,” you returned.  Stepping closer, you rubbed your hands together as you felt the hot air radiate towards you.  “It’s nice,” you sighed contentedly.

He smiled back at you, moving the logs slightly with the iron poker.  Sparks jumped and fell off as he shifted them, joining the ashes below— you’d always thought fire was so beautiful, even if it was dangerous, and you took in a long breath through your nose to smell the tinge of smokiness in the air.

“Te încălzești?” he asked quietly as he set the poker aside and stood beside you.  You wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing through the fabric of the robe to try to warm up a little faster.  Seeing you shiver, he reached out and rubbed your arms for you, which made you tense up slightly before relaxing and breathing out.  “Mai bine?”

You nodded a little, your gaze drifting slightly.  

“Warm?” he asked, making your eyes jump back up to his.  You swallowed dryly as he looked back at you.

“Warm,” you repeated, “yeah.  Good job… when’d you learn that?”

He didn’t answer, watching your hands as they reached out for his arms, finally making delicate contact with his tanned skin before drifting up to his biceps, his shoulders, and finally his chest.  He put his own hands on top of yours and held them there, looking back at you as your heart started to beat rapidly and with no signs of slowing down.  “Warm,” he repeated, only slightly above a whisper.

“Oh yeah,” you agreed hoarsely, “very, very warm…”

He smiled a little; it wasn’t mischievous, it wasn’t conniving or predatory or malicious.  It was subtle but gentle in a way you had absolutely no plan to save yourself from, no protection, no armor, no neutral territory.  There was only heat, so strong that your toes weren’t cold anymore and you didn’t even remember that your hair was still damp.  Not only did you let his heat consume you, but you didn’t even think to stop it, to swallow your desire down, to run away and say goodnight and hide in bed from the icky scary feelings.  No, you looked right back at him and let those eyes pierce right through you, that cold blue changed entirely with the warm firelight reflecting in them.  

“Do you want to come to my room?” you asked slowly.  The words were useless, but a glance back to the stairs that led to your door and back at him asked the same question with much more efficacy.  

He nodded, and you stepped backwards as he followed you: across the house, up the stairs, and to your room.  You opened the door.  He shut it behind you. 

[wroteclassicaly]

Waves of Blue (Andy Dolan x Reader)

Warnings: Language, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex, hair pulling, face slapping, slight choking, mentions of drug usage, & angst.

A/N : AAAAAAHHHHH! I have found the post that teaches you how to add a read more on mobile! Shoutout to the person who told me about that! You know who you are! ^_^ Anyways, I am so gonna be posting more, even if it’s harder because I have to write the fics on my phone, versus my laptop, lol. I stumbled across the song Waves of Blue by Majid Jordan, and my ass was emotional af (I have included some of the lyrics here in blue!) I obviously don’t own the song/lyrics!

The song was the kick one of my drafts needed for extra inspiration! And so, I bring you the start of this mini fic! It won’t be very many chapters. And I will probably re-visit for a prequel, to write out how the reader and Andy first hooked up. But I wanted to try something different and start my fic with their relationship already ongoing. Hopefully it doesn’t suck, haha.?

I haven’t felt this inspired for a Cody character since Michael Langdon! I adore Andy’s traumatic, cocky, angsty, hot mess ass! And I really wanna explore the creativity he’s bringing me! Lemme know what y’all think? And give the song a listen - I’m in in love with it!

Forgive me if there’s some mistakes, loves! I’m nervous about how I’ve written Andy, and how the smut is. Hope y’all enjoy anyways!

:)

~*~

The rain is a glittering array of shimmering moisture as its presence is pouring down on the roof of your apartment. Your knees are knocked tightly together, jean fabric digging into flesh. Your phone is perched face down atop your legs, vibrating messages you don’t care to read. They’re not the ones that you want to see. You tilt your head back, the tears redirecting themselves down the sides of your cheeks. You turn your gazing direction to that silk robe atop your bed - a reminder.

“It’s just a fling, love.”

But it can’t be, can it?

You have to laugh at yourself. Isn’t this what every girl asks themselves when they’re dumped? Rare is an exception who steals the other person’s heart and changes that exterior they carry. Your phone vibrates again and that raging anger to match the ruby red color on his robe that rests on your bedroom sheets - it charges your energy like a violent strike of lightening! Your hand launches your phone into the hallway outside your bedroom door before you can stop yourself.

“There’s your fucking fling, dumbass Andy Dolan!”

You try to hum to fight off the incoming intrusive thoughts, to ignore your ringing phone in the distance, but it’s to no avail. You’re getting more overwhelmed with the pain by every agonizing second. Your fists clench into the leather armrests below. It’s too much, you can’t bear another second of this shit. It doesn’t matter that it’s raining, it doesn’t matter that you have over fifteen unanswered recent calls from Andy since you threw your phone - unbeknownst to you.

You snatch the stupid silk robe from its place and begin your knowing journey with the excruciatingly expensive item, having already made up your mind. A quick removal of your keys from the hooks beside your front room door and your bare feet seem to lead you - heart first - into the downpour. Your clothing is soaked the instant you step outside. Mumbling all the way to your SUV and clutching Andy’s silk garment becomes your saving grace to help anchor your focus. If one can be focused in bare feet during a thunderstorm, erratically throwing her car into reverse.

The drive to his place of privacy - his sanctuary - the cold place you once used to help him warm. It doesn’t take you long. With your tires grinding against soaking asphalt, country beach roads whipping past you, and your angry windshield wipers struggling to keep up with your car’s pace - Andy’s gates come into your sights. You’re trembling, too upset and geared to go for a turn around now. Andy didn’t change the security, so you let yourself in, abandoning your car just inside, doors open and interior carelessly being soaked.

It doesn’t matter. I just have to tell him this.

That’s your mantra for continuous approach. You round the long expanse of beautiful greenery, waves crashing violently in the distance, a love affair to collide with this storm. Your simple outfit of blue jeans and a baby blue tank top are beyond recognition, weighted down by the sopping wet summer. The shivering begins to thrum along to an invisible, but very present humming inside you. It’s that feeling, the one you know all too well.

Andy Dolan.

Like when you first met, you begin to tremble, letting your limbs move you accordingly. Making sense is last on the priority list. Normally, you would have a thousand conversational scenarios laid out, but that’s not the case. Rushed on purely raw need to tell him - no - inform him, that is what is in charge here. The soft grass is squishy between your toes, a tickle from each freshly mowed blade, water in the distance smelling like salt and flowing freedom.

Every sense is heightened for you right now. Your limbs are heavy, yet your footfalls are light, carrying you with a quick grace. You don’t bother with the front door, opting for his usual back door hang out. It’s a few more minutes before your destination is reached. That’s when you hear him screaming, his voice in high distress, hard and rough against the accent. Your chest heaves to cage hammering heartbeats that you can’t keep up with.

“Motherfucking ANSWER ME!” He shouts, ripping the phone from his ear to redial.

You rolls your eyes, assuming it’s a dealer, or whomever he would rather be with than you. After all, he’s the one who said he just needed an ideal situation, not a relationship.

“Y/N... come on, don’t be a fucking cunt! I need to tell you something, please!”

Almost on cue the song drops loud on his fancy speakers in the house, freezing you to your spot.

I wanna hold you close

Don't wanna let you go

Be with you night and day

'Cause I've been feeling so low

Don't have to ask me twice

You really take me there

I wanna touch your light

I wanna breathe in your air

Andy angrily taps at his phone again, almost growling, reminding you of a wild animal. That’s when you’re snapped into your remaining senses, moving up and onto his deck, standing just feet from him. It takes him a few seconds to look up and see you through the rain. You can’t bring yourself to go any closer, afraid to let go right away. That’s how it is with Andy, you always give in.

You cut him off before he even gets a chance.

“Fuck you, Andy.”

Damn, was that really what you worked up the courage to dangerously drive yourself here to confess?

His lips purse a popping a noise, eyes widening in surprise at your word choices.

“I really fucking hate you.” Is what you give him, finding it easier to take steps now.

He still doesn’t speak as you approach, almost as if he’s recoiling. That wild animal within Andy Dolan. He’s not used to this. You can barely see through the rain, feeling like a moron. The movies make it look so dramatic, but you feel like you’re a wet dog on the verge of catching a cold.

It does good at numbing you though, almost shielding you from those haunting blue eyes. You swipe a hand across your face to clear your vision, and take that final step onto the deck with him, now just on the other side of where he stands in the doorway. That’s when he decides to speak, his voice softer than you’ve heard. It echoes his exhaustion, his surprise.

“You’re not the only one that feels that way, Y/N.”

You shake your head in disbelief, both of you not daring to make that closing gap. You would douse his body with yours; wet and cold. You’d be lying if you denied the shiver that attacked you, drawing your body in like a magnet - helpless to its every move.

“Don’t give me this kicked puppy front. We’re all human beings, Andy. And I didn’t fucking deserve you cutting your baggage open and just... dumping out whatever you felt like on me and then letting me go.”

Fuck.

He inhales sharply, head tilting in this sadness you seem to understand within the moment. It steals your breath, a pain punching your ribcage, causing your heartbeat to skip a few. Your jaw twitches as you turn away to gather your bearings, starting back down into the yard.

Why the fuck did I come here?

I'll be holding you tight

When the night is through

Andy takes a deep inhalation behind you and that catches you, dragging you right back. Before you know which end is up you’re turning back around and striding across the pool deck and right into your former lover. Andy meets you in the harsh rains, his hands cupping your neck so possessively, that you can’t remember a time where this hot mess of a man wasn’t bull dozing your life apart. You grasp his face in your palms, that unshaven stubble prickling your flesh. Your mouth meets his, his phone becoming ruined and forgotten as he lets it fall to the ground beside him.

His strong arms path down to encircle your waist, pulling you in from the weather, bunching your t-shirt up until it’s pooling around your tattered bra. You raise your arms to help him discard it, the heavy wet noise it makes when it collides with a nearby pool chair is enough to make Andy gain his surroundings.

“Stop, stop. Are you fucking high?” He asks you, a cautious pause.

You shake your head. “Aren’t you?”

This is when he scares you with a solemn silence you weren’t aware he could possess.

“Andy...” You push your fingers through his damp curls.

“No, I’m not. I was just about to... when you didn’t answer.”

Almost as if he can’t take revealing that bit of truth, he thumbs a bra strap down your shoulder - deliberately slow. Your skin stings with the line of goosebumps that it brings, your own hands struggling to push that stupid ass identical robe off his broad chest.

“I should fucking rip this.” You say, causing a smile to come from him.

“Rip it and I’ll put you on your knees.”

“Has that ever stopped you before?” A challenging look presses your features, but Andy intercepts, wrapping your hair around his fist and pulling your hair back. You feel the ache crack from the tips of your toes, hot wired into your cunt - direct express.

“You need more marks from me.” His mouth caresses your jawline, stubble catching the underside when his lips find your neck, a stimulation that you have become accustomed to craving.

His teeth bite down, a few seconds more where you feel him cleaning his evidence with a light set of kisses.

“There we go.” He scrapes his milky white teeth across your ear with a whisper so hot that you bow into him; knees weak.

Your bra is the next thing to fall somewhere, your jeans following. Andy doesn’t wait for you to even kick them off, his fingers sliding into your lace panties to see how much you still need him. He licks his lips, eyes closing in pleasure, a familiar stroking rhythm unraveling from the tips of his fingers.

“Shit, that’s a good girl. Even when you hate me you still need me, don’t you?”

The cockiness makes your wrist snap and palm collide with his cheek. You’re riled up, he’s riled up. Something you know he likes. “Like you fucking needed that?” Is your retort.

He groans out, a honey wet dip in his tone. “Only you can fucking touch me like that, Y/N.”

Lightening flashes through the darkened midnight skies, rain pounding across the surface of the pool to create a special beat. Andy finds your mouth in desperation once more, working your underwear down in a frustrated jerk. His fingers part your slick folds and ease into you without any warning. You look down to watch his strong forearm flex in its working marathon, back and forth between your thighs.

We'll be riding the tide in the sky so alive

On waves of blue (waves of blue)

I'm in love with the thought of being in love

In love with you (love with you)

You can bring me along for the rest of your life

If you wanted to (wanted to)

You let go and give into him, not daring to question why you came here in the first place. You know why. Andy has stopped his touches, watching you with that lowered stare he gives. His body is glowing from the neon lighting his home harbors, his creamy skin glistening with rain water. He’s hard through those silk pants, nothing left to the imagination.

“Take them off. Now.” You command him.

He can’t hide the greedy smirk that appears on his lips, not taking his eyes off you as his pants and boxers disappear in one go. He is gloriously hard and thick. You almost want to laugh at your cliche salivating tongue. Andy brushes your wet hair off your temple, his hands moving down your body in a tapping massage - reaching their target to hook behind your thighs.

He lifts you with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist. He’s panting rapidly, nosing your neck. He grips himself, teasingly stroking your cunt to gather your arousal. You stutter on an exhale, unable to breathe out properly. It’s jagged and broken, much like your rationality.

You stop him when he attempts to press inside you. “Tell me again,” You plead. He looks at you in confusion. “Say I’m just a fling.” You finish.

“Y/N...” He struggles.

“Before you fuck me, I want you to tell me what I mean to you, Andy.”

It’s hard not to just fucking forget this and let go, let him take you, both of you get what you want and not have to deal with anything else. But you need to hear it. You want to know how much you’re not worth anything to him. You need to hear it more than you need to find out how much you mean to him. That’s what you came here for...

His enriching ocean eyes are glossy with desire, with something else you can’t place. They pin you into a set of shakes. You grip the hair at his neck’s nape.

“Everything.” He says it all at once, bringing your hand down atop his to help him line up, as he fucks himself into your cunt, stretching you with that delicious drowning burn.

You're no good for me

You got what I need

I just wanna be with you

You cry out, vision sprinkled with an array of floating shapes. Andy drives you against the door, hips slamming so hard you know you’ll be bruised before the night is through. You keep one arm around his neck, lowering the other to encourage him to hurt you deeper, nails clawing at his lower back, shredding the skin. His face stays buried in your neck, stubble adding to each motion he makes inside. You cling tight, using all your strength.

It’s slippery, it’s unstable, you can barely hold onto one another, but you manage. And that moment when you finally can’t keep yourself up, Andy lets you slide down, bringing you into the floor of the doorway, lifting your legs onto his shoulders, pressing in so hard you can’t contain the tears that roll from the corner of your eyes, coasting. He’s familiarized himself with how you come undone, even before you knew.

“You’re drenching my cock, baby. You need to let it go?”

You don’t answer, causing him to grip your throat.

“When I ask you something I expect an answer. You remember how this works, don’t you?”

“Fuck, yes! Please, Andy!” You don’t pride yourself now.

He guides a hand across you, as if he’s tuning a fine instrument. Your stomach quivers with a passing of his fingertips, engaging in a butterfly filled stomach clench. You’re tensing up, anticipating. Desiring.

“Fucking do it! Show me how much you still need this...” He trails off, dropping to rest his chest against your breasts.

“Even if you don’t need me.” It’s a counter thought to your need to hear him say he doesn’t want you.

“I’ll always need you.” You push him onto his back with newfound strength, and pin his hands above his head, your hips bouncing so hard that you can feel his firm structure beneath. That’s right, this is exactly what you have to have.

He’s damn near whining now, squeezing your fingers tightly. “Y/N.”

It’s a warning you don’t need. You lean down to steal a kiss, leaving him further winded, nudging his nose with your own, breasts smashed to between you two. Andy gives a silent agreement, dropping a hand down to quickly rub your clit. Your heartbeat is so out of control that you can’t hear anything but your own cries as you cum all over Andy’s cock. He follows with you, holding himself, keeping you there.

He’s shaking when it’s over. You can’t find coherent speech capabilities.

I'll be holding you tight

I'll wait this through

You stay resting on top of him, still keeping him inside. You don’t know what’s going to happen, but you know that there’s no going back now.

This is just another beginning...

~*~

Tagging: @dark-mei-rose @confettucini @lovelylangdonx

Lemme know if y’all wanna be added to the tag list?!!!!

[visit-ba-sing-se]

My contribution to the “what happened to Kuzon?” question, I guess. No canon, just me making myself cry. Kuzon was old. He knew that, and with every move he made his body reminded him. Still, he was crouching over to clean the dust from a statue. The monk that it resembled had his eyes closed and seemed to be mediating, blissfully unaware off the world around him. Kuzon sighed. What would he give to just trade spots with him. Once more, he was not sure if he was supposed to find it rather funny or tragic that this small shed, in a small village between somewhere and nowhere, was where his life had led him. His parents had been a merchants. But not the kind of merchant you would meet on the city market and who'd sell you cabbage or fish. The kind of merchant that travelled to Ba Sing Se or Omashu and returned with ancient relicts that they'd sell some fire nation nobleman. Or the other way around, trade spices that would be used to for the spicy pickled kelp severed to earth kingdom royals. And Kuzon had been accompanying them for as long as he could remember, and a lot of it, he had loved. Counting heavy coins while sitting on his father lap, helping his mother chose between different colored pieces of cloth to buy and sell again for more, crossing items from a list before he even could read the words. And of course, he had met two of his best friends on their journeys. Bumi and Aang. And he had believed that that would be how things would stay, and that one day, he would grow up to be a merchant as well. Of course, in his mind he then imagines being the greatest merchant there ever was, who would have dinner with the king of Omashu and make his parents proud. And of course, that dream shattered as childrens dreams do.�� One conversation it had taken to tear his world apart. One conversation that he had listend to from the closet in their living room. Kuzon had used to hide when his parents welcomed wealthy clients, as they had never wanted him around then. Today, he still remembered that one trade as if it had been yesterday, not a century ago.

“You know, the prices for those artifacts are going to increase rapidly soon,” his mother had said, her you find my price to high but there is nothing you can do about that voice as he called it. “It is not like new once will enter the market. And I even heard that the government is striating to seize and destroy those that are currently one it.” Kuzon was angry at himself for not taking a peak at what she was selling earlier. Now they were standing with their backs to him and the view was blocked. “Even if you are right, which is not unlikely”, that buyer, a fire nation noble, had responded,  “don't feel any bad at all profiting from that?” His mother had snapped back directly “Oh, don't strike that chord with me. You want to invest. I have an investment to offer. Nothing more, nothing less. This little intermission won't fool any of us, and you know it.” “Fine.” The nobleman than had sighed, as Kuzon had moved his head slightly, desperatly trying to get a glimpse of what had being sold.  “A pity they had to kill all of them.” “They just made the best fruit pies. And they were so fun at parties.” None of this had made sense to Kuzon. Not until he finally had seen what the noble man had just bought. An air glider. Like the one Aang had had. And with that, it had hit him. Fruit pie. Air glider. Aang. Killed. Kuzon had not left that closet until finally, after he had missed lunch and dinner in there his father had discovered him and ordered to go to bed. Of course, looking back, it was childish. But In that moment, he truly had thought that as long as he stayed in the closet, the reality would stay out. The reality in which Aang, his best friend Aang, the funny, caring and genius Aang, Aang who he had spent some go the happiest days of his life with, was dead. And his parents were selling air gliders for profit.  But of course, the reality was there, and it did not care if Kuzo accepted it or not.  He was just 12, and one might say that a kid that age would not understand so much anyway. But Kuzon felt like in fact, he was the only one who did. The only one who saw all the places in which the air nomads were missing. The only one who saw how fearful the merchants from the earth kingdom that used to be good friends of their family now looked. The only one who did no pretend that their firelord was nothing else but a liar and murderer.  All of that had made him wanting to yell. Or cry, Or both. But his parents had taught him not to do so very soon very well and so he did neither.  But he wrote it down. He started with everything Aang had told him about his people, and what he could remember from the times he had visited. He continued with everything that happened then. When his father got drafted for the war. When they started having to say this weird pledge in school. When the man with the serious face brought the letter that made his mother cry. When they had to leave their big house in the capital and move back to his grandparents into a smaller house in a small village. And how despite all of this, the first thing his mom did in her new, small room was to hang up picture of Sozin so that he could stare down from there as well. He wrote down how after that picture changed from Sozin to Azulon, he applied to university to avoid getting drafted himself. The thought of that made him chuckle now. How smart he had found himself to be. Only too find out that at university they may did not teach him how to kill someone with a sword. But to kill his mind with some words. Of course, he had written that down as well. Just as he wrote down the rumors of the deserted admiral, and the drinking songs the other students were singing about bravery and burned towns. Finally, he got into one last fight with his anthropology professor that got him kicked out of university and close to being arrested. After more or less fleeing town, he cut his hair, hid in a few more closets and stole the passport of a poor lad named Lee. Like that, he escaped his military service scrubbing floors, serving tea and unloading ships on docks. He spent some nights in prisons as well, after fights he had picked at night and after assaulting governmental officials. For jokes about Azulon that he alone had found funny. As the result of trying to convince people that attacking Ba Sing Se would not be right. But no one wanted to be convinced, so once more, all he could do was write down what he observed. The cheering masses and tea sipping towns people just as the polluted rivers and starving fisherman. The children playing war in the streets, already so eager to kill and die for honor and glory just as the factory workers with dark circles under their eyes. He hated to admit it now, but during that time, he had been giving close to giving up more than once. He woke up in the morning not knowing which town he was in, nor how he would pay for dinner there in the evening. He had given up his home, his studies, his name. All because he had not been wanting give up on Aang. He could not betray his friend. When he was not able to fight all of them and stop the war, the least he could do was not to become one of them and instead bear witness for future generations to come. But is just got harder and harder each day, and more and more times he scolded himself for being just stubborn and stupid. His friend was dead. The Dragon of the West was at the walls of Ba Sing Se. And everyone just loved Azulon. What difference would it make if he joined them in? Or if he just stopped trying completely? What saved him was a small clay figure of a sky bison. A woman sold it on the market in a town which's name he did not even know. What he knew, however, was that these kinds of toys were only made by air nomads. And that that woman clearly had no idea how much the piece she was offering here was worth. He bought it without thinking twice. And that was how he finally became a merchant. Trading goods became his explanation for traveling up and down the country, searching for traces and hints, gathering artifacts that one way or another that found their way into the hands of people who had no idea what they were holding. Of course, he had to start small. Very small. But he had learned from the best there were. And he had a goal. “Maybe I am naive to think that one day, the war will be over and the firelord defeated. That one day we can speak freely again and that people will come and learn about the airnomads.”, he wrote down during this time, but when that day comes, they need to have something to learn from. After many years, when Ozai already replaced Azulon, Kuzon settled in a small village, where he lived in a small hut with an even smaller shed in which he kept the artifacts hidden. People quickly started avoiding him as the weird old man who in any other place would have already been arrested but here just served as village idiot. He continued writing, but news travelled slow and when they arrived were usually not reliable at all. Because of that, he nearly did not dare to write the first hopeful line after what seemed to be an eternity. Word has it that the Avatar has returned.

And then after another year, despite all odds and just like that, the war suddenly was over. At least so he heard. And noted that the war was over. And then finally, he put the pen down. Everything suddenly had changed. Yet still, it remained the same.

Kuzon was still alone in his hut and with his books, and still no one seemed to care. He had a testamony to make, but no one wanted to listen. They all just wanted to forget so fast.  And he was a disturbance, since they knew that he remembered.  There were rumors that the new firelord, Zuko, 16 and like that himself half a child, wanted to change things and own up the crimes that were committed. Some people pretended to support that. Others openly complained. Kuzon just would like to believe it was true. But he just had stopped trusting in firelords a long time ago.

Still, he tried his best to maintain the artifacts in good shape, but he was old. He had no family. No friends. And the thought that they would remain hidden here after his death, abdomend and forgotten, broke what was still left of his heart.  But here he was, and here they were. Alone. Suddenly, when Kuzon could already feel his eyes filling with tears, he was interrupted by a voice. A very familiar voice.

“Somebody here?”, it asked.  Kuzon was sure that it was only in his mind, brought back by all the memories. Still, while scolding himself for being a stupid old man, he slowly turned around, expecting to see nothing except for the wall of his shed. But his mind had not tricked him. There he stood, smiling that familiar smile that Kuzon never would have thought he would see again. Aang. And Kuzon cried.

[saturdaysky]

Tagged for the WIP meme by @ariadne-mouse and @catalists -- thank you both! 💖

I tag @renquise @mithrilwren @annundriel @mllekurtz @iniquiticity @aboxthecolourofheartache and @sky-scribbles if any of you would like! I'm sure some of you have been tagged already.

Rules: post a recent line or two from a WIP. I am bending these rules because I pasted the lines and then decided to continue drafting the scene right here in this post. Impulse control, I know thee not.

WIP: Post-canon slow burn Aeorian nerd vacation where the Shadowgasts teach each other spells and figure out the new people they are becoming.

Excerpt: Caleb helps Essek remain limber for somatic casting. They talk, and don't talk.

“I am bad at a lot of things around you all," Essek muses quietly. His posture is painfully precise, probably exactly what led to all the knots Caleb can feel under his fingertips. "It is a thing I am coming to cherish even though it can be, ah. Aggravating.”

“Well, we are pretty aggravating assholes in the Nein.” Caleb carefully presses his thumbs into a particularly hard knot, drawing a hiss from Essek. He soothes the area with a gentle stroke, then lets his voice drop into something deeper, differently-accented. “Master Thelyss, are you sure you cannot teleport us again twenty feet further into the jungle? We are rather shit at reading maps, you see, and you are so handy with a teleport spell.”

[read more'd for length and a few suggestive thoughts from one Mr. Widogast]

The shoulders beneath his fingers shake with what Caleb hopes is laughter, though when Essek speaks it is with the perfect blandness of a courtier. "What a remarkable impression of...Fjord? It is as though he is here with us now."

Essek is one of the Nein, and Essek is also an asshole. "You are not the only one who is bad at things," Caleb says, unable to stop a grin. He draws his hands higher up Essek's shoulders, works at some of the tension there. "I trust you with the secret of my terrible impressions."

"It is safe with me, always," Essek promises, and his laughter spills out then, silvery and soft. After a moment, he quiets and takes a shallow breath. His posture eases.

Then he leans back into Caleb's touch.

Oh? Caleb's fingers freeze in surprise. A thought comes unbidden: what would it be like, if he drew Essek back just a bit further until his small frame was nestled secure against Caleb's chest? If he slipped his rough hands beneath the silk of Essek's tunic, skin to skin, and learned all the ways the world had marked him after he'd left the Nein?

What if. He finds himself weak with the want of it.

Seconds tick by, and Essek goes still in front of him, back straightening up once more. He swallows and looks down. Caleb's eyes catch on the pale edge of that new scar — who gave him that? — that reaches up from beneath his high collar to curl just under his jaw. It shines a little in the dim light.

In an instant, the thought of Essek, debauched grows a new dimension in Caleb's mind: of pressing lips where scar meets jaw, following it lower with teeth and tongue, and then working his hands and his mouth against Essek's skin until Essek made soft, silvery sounds of a different kind.

His fingers tighten involuntarily. Essek's posture grows a little more perfect.

Get a hold of yourself, Widogast. You have your hands on him already. That is enough of a bad idea, but you are supposed to be helping him right now, not giving in to base thoughts.

He resumes pressing his fingers over the knots in Essek's back. "Ah, sorry. Just plotting who among our friends I will next profane with my impression of them." His levity is a little forced, but some of the tension leaves Essek's frame anyway.

"...Mr. Clay, perhaps. Though if he saw it, I suspect he'd simply be flattered you tried," Essek replies lightly.

"Ja, almost more embarrassing that way. I suppose I will just have to inflict my impressions upon you alone."

"More the pity, me." Essek tilts his head, considering. "I prepared for a lot of hazards on this trip, but failed to anticipate amateur theater as my greatest threat."

It startles a laugh out of Caleb. "You are harsh, Herr Thelyss."

"So I've been told." There's a smile in his voice.

And all is back to normal, Caleb hopes. They are a proper distance away from each other, speaking as friends.

But the image of Essek, shirt rucked up and undone in Caleb's arms, lingers stubbornly around the edges of his imagination. A dangerous thought accompanies it: If I trusted you with myself, Essek, how much of me would you keep safe?

[shesawriter39049]

|Breakdown’s & Bugatti’s| M|

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader (Ft a hint of Tae & Jin)

About- Namjoon just does what he has to do to keep you ....calm while at a charity gala!  

OR:

CHAPTER 1 : MEET THE KIMS OF NEW YORK 

**WARNINGS: **Semi public sex, Fingering (F receiving), Minimal prep, Light dirty talk, Light spit play, Choking, Spanking, Gags (Makeshift), Non protective sex (Creampie), light overstimulation

WC: 7K (This is a sneak peak so it’s 1.2k)

NON SEXUAL WARNINGS: (Fictional political background)  Hints at recreational drug use (Molly) Brief mentions of death, father issues, and panic attacks/anxiety (All of these topics are super minor but again, out of respect I’m mentioning them) 

The remaining “characters” will be introduced at a later date

This chapter hints at various future plots 

This is almost 2 years old, I reworked it recently 

If you’ve been following me for a while this is the original draft for “Club First Royale” 

FINAL NOTE: I haven’t been active in damn hear a year ( 8 months) So I am posting sneak peeks intentionally! No, not to torture you guys lol but to get my blog flowing again because I’m sure people aren’t really checking in anymore

OT7 ALTERNATING STORYLINES

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FINALLY, fuck 36737 years later you spot your Kim!

Standing there in all his glory, in a Valentino slim fit navy blue suit, the jacket appearing to have some sort of paisley print, opting against a tie. Leaving his crisp white dress shirt slightly unbuttoned, teasing at his broad carnalized chest as he makes his way from the bar. Heading over to the table, which has an empty seat waiting right beside him with your name written all over it...literally!

Purposely dodging the old lady to your left in a coat that would have PETA ready to throw hands! Gaudy diamonds, terrible Botox, and smelled as if she showered in an entire bottle Chanel No. 5! 

Yeah, no, sorry, not in the mood for another meet and greet right now!

“Joonie” Squeals from your lips once you’re in close enough proximity, his dark piercing eyes cut over to meet yours. A playful smirk tugging on those sinfully thick lips of his, accompanied by those disrespectful ass dimples!

“There she is!” Eyes dripping with warmth, as he ushered you in with open arms ,and in these types of situations, Namjoon felt like home, he was your safe space. “You look fuckin good” The words hushed into your hair in a tenor meant for your ears and your ears only! A hint of something a little more than just friendly playing on his tongue. 

A small little “Thank you” leaves your lips, and if I didn't know any better I’d think the compliment made you a little flustered.

Namjoon was the definition of Ocean arm’s and goddamn if you didn't just love how big this man was! It literally felt like he was hiding you from the entire universe when he has you nuzzled into his frame! The whole interaction couldn't have lasted longer than 20 seconds in all actuality but god you needed it! 

Face flush to his chest, wrapping your arms firm around his waist, letting your eyes flutter shut briefly, a deep slow exhale flooded through your body. Inhaling the musky yet sweet scent of his cologne mixed with his natural aroma, which has grown to become a calming mechanism over the years. 

“You had me worried for a minute…” Placing a quick kiss in your hair, that you would have missed if you blinked but again, your in public soo...

Palms soothing up and down your back gently, as he breathed into your hair , pulling back a little so there was some form of personal space between the two of you.  

“Your late, even for you princess...I know you started early, I got your live(Instagram) notification, so what happened?” Head clocked to the side as he appraises you and fuck, the bass in his voice still has you all types of fucked up! Glancing over your shoulder briefly before leaning up to place a kiss on the hinge of his jaw, that tittered the line of passing as an “innocent” greeting. 

“I’m fine Jonnie it’s nothing, we just got held up in glam.., Ariel was flying in from Miami...we got a late start” Gaze intentionally diverted as you welcomed yourself to his glass of Scotch instead. Damn near inhaling the entire drink as we speak and you hated dark liquor so that alone let him know something was up!  

Merely resisting the urge to smooth out the crease he felt forming between his brows, a dry snort left his lips, rolling his eyes in response to your blatant stubbornness. Nevertheless, always the gentleman, reaching down to pull out your chair so you could take a seat next to him. Mirroring your actions just moments prior, quickly scoping out his surroundings before he brought those plush pillows he calls lips a centimeter away from your ear.

Fuck. 

  “Right, so I'm just going to assume you don’t wanna talk about it right now! Or wait I’m sorry, have you just upgraded to insulting my intelligence straight to my damn face?” 

Brow quirked inquisitively, and you could literally feel every word, tone taking on a hint of seriousness the more he talked. Namjoon licked his lips and the tip skimmed the edge of your ear and I - . 

“For one you smell like an entire bottle of Heidsieck, I can almost taste the nicotine on your tongue and you've been crying I know you. ”  

Pulling back just enough to glare down at you above the brim of his glasses, which he always wore low along his bridge. Eyes daring you to look him in the face a lie again, teasing his fingers through his chocolate locks. Styled in the perfect semi grown out undercut, the top a little on the long side, while the sides tapered into a crisp fade. Sideburns outlining that extremely understated jawline of his! Though you had to admit the yellow gold diamonds dawning his ears were kinda stealing the show right now! 

“So again, do you just not wanna talk about it right now? Or have you forgotten that I have an IQ of 137, and can smell bullshit from here all the way to Gangnam!?” 

You're having very vivid day daydreams of your hand wrapped around this man's windpipe and for once it’s not even remotely sexual! 

Blatantly ignoring the strong twitch within Namjoon’s jaw and simply saying “I’m here, aren’t I!?” Face stoic, tone flat as all hell, in case it wasn’t clear that this conversation was more than over, you opted to eye his bourbon glazed salmon until he got the hint.

 “Oh, for fucks sake! ” Hissed from his lips without a lick of heat behind them, because as quiet as it’s kept ,your lowkey Joon’s baby, which is why he cares to begin with! Picking up a piece on his fork before essentially shoving it into your hand ”Your lucky I can’t have your ass getting sick on me tonight, we still have like, 3 hours left of this bullshit.”

More like he just can’t tell you no, but hey, whatever helps him sleep at night! Sliding his plate in your direction, completely giving up on eating at this point, he knew you needed it more anyway! Finally, starting to feel your mix of poisons hit your system so you knew you needed  to even it out with a little substance. I mean yeah, you could have just ordered your own plate but meh, this was easier! 

Namjoon started busying himself on his phone while you ate, scrolling through a couple contacts until he landed on a contact labeled under “Kookie”.

“Even though you were only late because “Your glam team ran late” There were air bunnies involved, and again you just really wanna choke his ass!  “What are you thinking tonight? He’s actually on his way here right now, but he already has a couple options on him...” 

The question was vague and for damn good reason...considering…

However you knew exactly what he was referring too.., and thank god!

Speaking over a mouth full of salmon, sounding utterly exasperated!  “Honestly, any fucking thing at this point…” 

Namjoon hums thoughtfully, sucking on a Bourbon soaked Ice cube “He’ll be here in 20, I just went with Smartees…always a safe bet...” 

Smartees, candy, Vitamin -E, Molly... Estcasy...it’s all one and the same, just depends on who you ask!

He leans back in, apparently keen on whispering tonight. “Maybe, if your a good girl and eat enough we can split one before we leave...chill you out a little bit. '' Voice thick and heady, lips curling into a grin with a hint of something wicked playing on the ends, as his fingers idly ghost over your forearm. Giving it a light squeeze and regardless of how innocent the skin-ship may seem to the naked eye, you’re well aware of all the underlying innuendos behind it! 

You make a noise of agreement, trying your damnedest to ignore the slight chill coursing up your spine at the pet name. Though before you could even dwell, Namjoon was sliding back in with another update, this one however wasn't as...arousing…to say the least!

“Fox 2’s been waiting for you to get here by the way...since the event was put together by council and all. They've been wanting to talk to us together about the fundraiser, just the same shit as last year.” 

Waving his hand dismissively idly twirling the various pieces of Bvlgari around his fingers, seemingly un-phased while you on the other hand...release the most exasperated huff! Reclining against your seat, eyes rolling to the back of your head in 30 different directions! Yeah, It comes with the territory, you know this, hints Namjoons reaction, or lack thereof!  But fuck you just really weren’t in the mood to do press tonight, It’s literally physically exhausting to pretend that you weren’t just PISSED! 

“Of -fuckin- course they do!” Stabbing your mashed potatoes in a way that's... somewhat concerning… 

“Baby.” It was a warning, though his voice sat barley above a whisper, his tone was crystal! Eyes cutting in your direction briefly before dropping back down to his phone….

You didn't have it in you to argue, there’s no way around this anyway, fuck it!  “What -the-fuck-ever!” Sliding the half empty plate aside “Well, you wanna just get it out of the way now? Because I’m really not in the mood for-”

“Y/n..oh my god! Hi, honey how are you!? You look beautiful as always…” Suddenly there was a human, a human wearing the wrong shade of foundation kissing your cheek. A human by the name of Caroline, one of the local news anchors...clearly her damn ears were ringing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guys, that’s all she wrote, well kinda, actually she finished it like 16 months ago lol but that’s all she wrote for now I guess....

**_

_****Love you...see ya soon!!**

***SIDE NOTE, MY FRIEND MADE THE TWITTER EDIT SO DON’T ASK LOL IDK ****

UPDATE: HEADCANONS FOR THE KIM BOYS/OC

  HEADCANONS

[ginkgomoon]

Gavin’s Old Days Date- Analysis

I received an ask just then about this date and so I’m typing my heart away at 2 in the morning. It didn’t really fully sink in to how much of a good date Old Days was until some time had passed, with the way how I looked at Gavin back then different to how I saw him now. This date brought back so many emotions and memories- especially when it’s such a well-rounded story with various hidden meanings and references which enabled me to have something to analyse!

This date circulates around Gavin and MC’s high school history in the span of days Friday and Saturday- on that fateful day when Gavin wanted to give the letter, to the night he waited for her.

It also has a circular storyline structure, from when MC first dreams of Gavin that catalyses following events. But something we also have to note is that the whole entire time until the very last few minutes- MC is ‘dreaming’.

The turbulent flow of time and space stunned me, and countless doors opened before me one by one.

The memory fragments poured in, and those images reflecting me and Gavin flew past quickly.

He turned his back to me and walked away, his white shirt fluttering in the wind, almost engulfed by the increasingly denser mist.

I shouted his name aloud and ran desperately, wanting to catch up with him, but the corner of his shirt was like wind that couldn't be grasped, dispersing between my fingers.

His figure became increasingly blurred as he was farther and farther, finally disappearing completely in the narrow field of vision.

Standing in the void, I seemed to have lost all directions and motivation forward.

Until a gentle breeze with a familiar fragrance blew the fog away.

There seemed to be dazzling sunlight piercing through the clouds, and after the mist dissipated, a completely different space-time appeared before me…

This part of MC’s dream is like a metaphor for Gavin’s sudden leave. The mini fragments of her memories and the information that she knew now compared to back in high school come together to try to form some comprehensible picture in her mind, which in this case- her dream.

(Which probably was helped by the presence of Black Cabin with the ‘“doors”. But I could also argue that it wasn’t, because this isn’t supposed to be the first time MC enters Black Cabin. Then again, dates differ from the main storyline.)

But just like how MC is Gavin’s North Star, without him, even she is lost and directionless. They both need each other. As they are each others’ mystery, they are each others’ answers.

“This uniform and medals are my beliefs, with you guiding me in the direction forward.” -Go See Him

MC wants to reach out, not wanting Gavin to leave her, just like how he left seven years ago. Though even here, Gavin’s wind helps guide her forward- to meet him again in this time-space.

Dreams are still a big mystery to us. Some say it reveals our deepest desires and fears presented by our subconscious. By listening to it, we are able to guide our efforts in achieving and chasing what we truly desire whilst avoiding our fears. And if some dreams are based on truth, then it can easily foreshadow what we are about to encounter.

As MC finally settles in appearing at their old school of Loveland High, she sees Gavin.

Through the crowds, he seemed to be looking at the girl standing on the middle of the flag raising platform with a speech draft in her hands. Without realising, he crumpled the letter in his hand even more tightly.

The infamous letter.

Moments ago he saw me, he was so shocked that his pupils contracted slightly. He also slipped when he was about to jump down.

“Who are you?”

The shock in his eyes was now replaced by alertness and uncertainty.

Gavin clearly doesn’t know this MC- because in this time-space, she doesn’t really exist. As I said above, as dreams can be based on truth and our desires, MC feels like she could have done something to correct their relationship in this course of time. But at this stage between her and Gavin, she doesn’t know much about it because he never explicitly told her and she wants to know. This dream is a manifestation of that.

MC: “Excuse me, do you know MC? I am her cousin.”

MC also experiences being her own cousin such as in Time Subway’s Loveland High Noodle Bar and STF Drill Ground.

Gavin looked at me suspiciously for a long time, and finally nodded indifferently.

Gavin: “Oh, what do you want with her?”

MC: “How is she doing in school lately?”

Gavin: “I don’t know her that well.”

Gavin helps MC locate herself- her high school self- but when she looks back, he has already disappeared. She then overhears students talking about Gavin getting beaten up by a hundred people and becomes an investigator into his whereabouts.

The next part of the date isn’t from MC’s narration, which led me to believe that this really did happen in MC and Gavin’s own universe. The ‘truth’ of the dream.

*Beating up happening*

Random Kid Who Doesn’t Have Better Things To Do: “I heard that our school overlord is transferring to another school. Is that true? Since you are leaving, why can’t you be good?”

Gavin: “That’s none of your business!”

Random Kid Who Doesn’t Have Better Things To Do: “True, but after you leave, your beloved girl will no longer be under protection, right? Don’t worry I’ll take care of her for you. And I heard she’s our campus belle.”

Gavin (fiercely with an angry face): “What did you say?”

*More beating up*

MC’s POV begins.

Finally, I found the alley from memory.

Gavin: “You won’t get off so easily next time. Try getting near her and see what happens.”

Gavin leaves and even MC wasn’t fast enough to catch a wounded, bleeding Gavin. She racks her brains to try to figure out where he is, and finally comes to the piano room.

And BEHOLD- Gavin casually sitting on a ginkgo tree dressing his wounds.

Gavin (annoyed): “Why are you everywhere…”

MC: “Are you waiting for MC? She’s preparing for exams so she won’t be here today.”

Gavin: “...I wasn’t looking for her.”

Gavin reluctantly agrees to follow MC into the infirmary and she starts to help properly dress his wounds.

MC: “Are you not a close friend with MC?”

Gavin: “... I’ve just heard her name before. She’s got good grades and she’s very kind.”

MC: “Have you ever talked to her?”

Gavin: “Nope.”

MC: “Then how do you know she’s kind?”

Gavin: “Why should I answer your questions?”

He looked a little vexed, looking away with his ears turning red.

MC: “Sorry, I meant well. It’s just that she’s mentioned you to me. She says you’re not as bad as what people say you are. You helped carry her books and took her to the infirmary…”

Gavin: “I just happened to be around.”

MC: “Err, then you must happen to be around quite a lot.”

Gavin: “How do you know all of this?”

MC: “She tells me everything. We even look very similar don’t we?”

Gavin: “But you act differently.”

MC helps Gavin finish patching his wounds and Gavin is noted to be unwilling to stay with her.

MC: “I have one more thing to tell you. MC is a bit slow. She is not as good as you think, and will also be blinded by rumours…”

Gavin interrupts me coldly.

Gavin: “She’s a very nice person. What she thinks of me has nothing to do with anyone else. If you're here just to tell me these things, then I don't need to listen to you.”

Gavin grabbed his uniform, but a white object fell from his pocket to the floor.

It was a crumpled letter. Stained in blood.

I went to pick it up but the paper slipped out and I caught a glimpse of the contents by accident.

Gavin quickly picked up the letter and put it back without saying a word.

There was a flash of dismissal in his eyes. He tried to flatten the creases on the letter awkwardly.

(RIP LETTER. He even tried to flatten it. GAVINNN)

Gavin’s view remains the same in their own universe- “You can’t change other people’s opinions but you can change your attitude towards them. Don't let yourself be easily affected. You shouldn't envy me. You’re different from me. You're kind and thoughtful. That's what makes you, you. Besides, I’m not as free as you think, and I care about a lot of things.” -Company Footage [Chapter 3-7]

The scene around her changes. MC figures that if this is the memory of her and Gavin, then the most important thing was to find him.

MC’s mind fixates on the familiar bloody letter- recalling its words. MC then sprints to the school library.

The library looked a little deserted in the darkness. Looking along the rows of bookshelves, I finally found Gavin seated next to the window.

At this point, Gavin has been waiting a whole day for high school MC to meet him. She didn’t read the letter that had the time he wanted her to come.

He turned around and the moment he heard my footsteps, and the glimmer in his eyes suddenly died away again when he saw me.

I realised that on this day, he had wanted to say goodbye.

He just frowned and looked away, uninterested.

MC: “Are you waiting for MC? She might have misunderstood. Sorry, let me apologise for her.”

Gavin: “It has nothing to do with you.”

He paused and said in a self-mockery tone.

Gavin: “I knew she wouldn't come anyway.”

I’ve never seen Gavin like this. At this time, he was still so young and one could easily read his emotions.

Only then did I realise how he described his past as a mere “regret” was an understatement. He had to endure the long wait and the misery of being understood silently.

(It’s 2am and I’m crying.)

I mistook the farewell letter as a threat and threw it away. I never tried to learn the truth and misunderstood him. And still was protected and cherished by him.

I never felt so sorry and never wanted to blame myself even more.

If I didn't know all of this, if we had never met each other after we went in opposite directions…

MC: “Although I know saying these now is meaningless...You’ll be a very awesome person in the future, and you will stick to your belief and to justice. And you’ll also meet the person you want to meet. Even though she might not be great and always troubles you, you will definitely meet each other in the future. So…”

But when I looked back up, Gavin was gone.

As if back to the beginning of the dream, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t catch up or make a sound.

And MC wakes up. (Circular storyline- starts and end with a dream- starts and ends with Gavin.)

“Why did it take you so long to answer? Did you just wake up?”

It was Gavin.

MC: “Gavin… I….”

Gavin: “Why do you sound so weird?”

MC: “I had a dream about you.”

Gavin: “Was it a bad dream? Don’t worry, it won’t happen. By the way, I'll be at your place soon. I brought steamed buns and soybean milk for breakfast.”

Just like how he bought milk and bread for her at the infirmary after she fainted during a school sports event.

The moment I saw Gavin, I threw myself into his arms, crying.

His strong chest, the familiar smell under his collar. This was Gavin, the Gavin who would never disappear or leave me.

Gavin: “Why are you crying?”

He tried to dry my tears clumsily, but both his hands were occupied, so he had to move to the table and put the breakfast down while I hung onto him like a koala.

Gavin: “Tell me, what was your dream about?”

MC: “In my dream, you skipped class, got into fights, and ignored me.”

Gavin: “...”

MC: “You also said, ‘it’s none of your business’ to me coldly several times.”

He held back laughter and listened to my tearful complaint. Then he suddenly took my hand, and slapped it on his palm.

Gavin: “Then bully me back now.”

MC: “Gavin, have you ever thought about… what if we didn’t meet?”

He gave it some thought and nodded seriously.

Gavin: “Yes I have. If I wasn't there, would the girl get bullied? Would someone be looking out for her? I’ve also wondered if someone would fall in love with her or give her a love letter.... Would she like someone else? So, if I were to meet her again, I must hold onto her.”

He took my hand lightly, and kissed it preciously, his voice soft.

“And never let her go again.”

(The same hands that helped dress his wounds. CRYING.)

All this time Gavin had regretted not being able to give the letter to her in person, presumably with the fear of rejection from the one person he cared about. Even if Gavin hadn’t had a conversation with her or knew her very well, the interactions they have had together was enough for Gavin to form an opinion of her- a strong enough opinion that even he refuses to listen to MC’s ‘cousin’ (interactions like wanting to introduce himself in the library but MC dashes off LOL).

Wanting to protect her continuously from the students during the alleyway fight and waiting day and night for her also really does showcase his determination and the effectiveness of having a glimmer of hope from and for someone goes a long way, especially with a loyal man like Gavin.

Additionally, MC states that he was cold to her, which shows that even someone who claimed to be her cousin wouldn't melt Gavin’s heart with secondhand words. (That wall that he built up between him and MC of how he bats each question she asks with another question LOL.)

Even in front of Cousin MC, he wants to keep up that tough and unbreakable persona, the one that high school MC is more familiar with- until the very end when he finally has to come to the conclusion that MC is not going to see him. This therefore really does make him think that she didn't want to meet him. And in the storyline, he really did have to live like that, thinking that she thought of him just like how everyone did- until they met again.

But after all that Gavin had been through, he’s willing to cherish every moment he has with MC in the future. Not basing their relationship off of the failures, misunderstandings and regrets- but their hopes and dreams of a better future together.

“Before you… I lower all my defences.” -Gavin

[lookforanewangle]

hold on a little longer || spn || 2k || ao3

tags: blood, injury, broken bones, hurt/comfort, and forehead touches! also protective dean and protective cas

Between the spells, and the warding, and the combination of grace and Rowena's power, they thought they had been prepared.

Chuck, however, always seemed to be one step ahead of them.

or, Cas's grace is dwindling, Dean is dying, and both of them are too protective of the other for their own good.

a/n: inspired by this post by @letsboldlygomotherfuckers and @rainbowscas

also, I’m also playing in my hci verse here a little bit; all you need to know is that chuck turns to this universe after the show's canon (and yes, I believe in the chuck won theory, it's the only thing that makes sense), and tries to mix things up a bit. cas is introduced when dean is 13 instead of 28? 29? there are a lot of other changes, but those don't play into this scene, so I'm not gonna spoil anything else ;) this bit wouldn't come in until fic four or five anyway. idk if I'll ever write that far, but here's hoping!! (fic one is like.....a little over halfway done. I think. we have a long way to go lmao)

Between the spells, and the warding, and the combination of grace and Rowena's power, they thought they had been prepared.

Chuck, however, always seemed to be one step ahead of them.

"How?" Cas bites between waves of pain, arms bound tight behind him. There's blood dripping down his face, a shoulder dislocated, maybe a rib cracked, but his pain is nothing close to what Dean must be feeling.

Dean, who is just a mess of broken bones and skin on the floor.

“Because, see, I already know what’s going to happen,” Chuck says, pacing leisurely around them, tilting down towards Dean's unconscious form as he speaks. His footsteps are quiet in the vast emptiness of the warehouse, but each step seems to pound in time with Cas’s own injuries, pain driving higher at each step. For all Cas knows, Chuck could be doing that on purpose.

“Your brother will come racing in to save you,” Chuck continues, gesturing as he speaks, “and Jack will be there, too. They’ll make some valiant effort to save the two of you, try to beat me at my own game, but it’s not going to work. I’ve written every possibility, every scenario that could ever happen. Each one, I win. It's literally impossible for me to lose!” he says with a giddy grin, arms spreading out to his sides in victory.

Cas strains against his bonds, wrists tied much too tightly against the small of his back, eyes never leaving Dean’s too-still form on the floor.

“Dean,” Cas calls, but Dean doesn’t stir. His limbs are bent at awkward angles, the whole of him a heap atop blood splattered across the ground. Too much blood. Cas would almost think he was dead if not for the wheezing emanating from Dean’s chest at every shallow breath, every minuscule rise and fall. If he could just get close enough—

Chuck’s fist hits his face, and Cas crashes to the ground with a grunt.

“I never did get you figured out,” Chuck says, crouching in front of him. He tilts his head as he observes Cas struggle back into a sitting position. “Whatever changed, whatever you did in the last universe bled over into this one, and now we’re at the same end here as we were there. Well, almost. Close enough, anyway. You, grace failing and doing everything you can to save Dean, nearing death at every second. Dean will follow soon after, no matter what you do,” Chuck says with a helpless shrug. “It’s just how it’s supposed to go. Then again, if you hadn’t broken script…”

He trails off suggestively, and Cas’s blood runs cold. No. No. Dean’s coming death couldn’t— wouldn’t— be his fault.

“Dean’s not dying today,” Cas says, determined, voice gravelly.

“That’s not up to you,” Chuck counters. He reaches his hand out towards Cas and squeezes. Cas’s chest constricts in pain. He gasps, doubling over, feeling his grace ebbing further and further from his reach.

“Dean was always meant to die,” Chuck says, slowly twisting his wrist. Cas cries out in pain, tucking his head towards his chest, trying and failing to pull away from the pain radiating through every cell. “Even if you hadn’t saved him all those times, he still would have gone out in that stupid blaze of glory he was always glorifying.”

Chuck releases his grip on Cas’s grace. Cas goes limp with a gasp, limbs weak and trembling. Chuck hums.

“Wish I could just kill you now,” he says glumly. “But of all the drafts, killing you and Dean slowly in front of Sam and Jack is just...so much juicier. The pain is so much more intense when you make them watch. Especially if you're first. Dean watching you die just never gets old,” he says, fond smile on his face.

Cas wants to throw up.

“Well, then!” Chuck says with a sigh, eyebrows raised. He slaps his thighs and pushes to his feet, turning towards the entrance. “I’ll be back in, oh, however long it takes for Sam and Jack to show up. Depends on how they decided to travel here. There’s six different drafts just for their transportation. So, you know, don’t go anywhere,” Chuck calls over his shoulder with a wink. He snaps his fingers. Cas screams as his shin shatters. The door slams behind him and the sound reverberates through the warehouse, thunderous in Cas’s ears.

Cas takes a moment to get his ragged breathing under control, fighting down the little amount of grace he has left. He can’t let himself heal. He has to get to Dean first.

Dean is not dying tonight.

Cas grits his teeth against the pain, rolling over onto his stomach. He clenches his fingers in their binds and squeezes tight as he uses his good leg to push himself across the concrete towards Dean, biting back a cry as his leg is jostled. His brow furrows and he pushes on, refusing to let the pain get in his way.

“Dean,” he calls out as he draws near, desperate to hear his voice.

Dean doesn’t answer.

Cas pushes the final few feet and rolls to his side, heaving for air. He tugs at his bonds again, but until he’s able to heal his leg there’s no way he’s breaking out of the enchanted chains tying him back. He lets his eyes slip closed and leans forward, pressing his forehead gingerly against Dean’s bloody brow. He channels any scrap of grace he has left through that connection, hoping with everything he’s got that he reached him in time. Broken bones will heal on their own; he focuses his energy towards anything vital—damaged organs, severe trauma around his skull, and whatever else he can heal, remaining grace and breath leaving him in a rush. Dean’s wheezing has gone away at least, his breath steady and sure, and Cas sags, exhausted.

“Dean,” he whispers, voice weak. He pushes his brow against Dean’s forehead just enough to feel the pressure. He doesn’t have the strength for much else. “Dean. Please.”

Dean stirs slowly, and Cas fights with everything in him to stay awake. He has to make sure—

“Cas?” Dean breathes. Dean is still coming to, but Cas can feel darkness seeping in at the edges of his own consciousness, startling him back into awareness. Not yet, he begs desperately, blinking hard. Please not yet.

“Dean,” Cas answers, his voice so weak he’s not even sure that Dean heard it. Dean shifts against him. Cas concentrates on breathing through the pain, waiting for Dean to realize—

Dean inhales sharply and curses under his breath.

Cas is beginning to drift again, but he can hear Dean scramble into a sitting position, grunting against some pain Cas’s dwindling grace couldn’t reach. But he’s alive, Cas reassures himself in relief as the darkness grips him tighter. He’s still alive.

For how much longer, he can’t guarantee, but just for now is good enough.

Dean grabs his face between his palms then, fingers holding him steady, squeezing gently. Cas's eyelids flutter, exhaustion dragging at his limbs.

“No no no, hey,” Dean says in a rush, words quiet. Cas can hear the desperation in every syllable. “Come on, Cas, stay with me, man.”

Cas grunts softly in response.

“‘M here,” he rasps. Dean sighs, tipping forward to press their foreheads together.

“Okay,” Dean says under his breath, thumb swiping across Cas’s cheek. Cas is almost certain that was more for Dean than himself, reassuring himself that Cas was alive. Cas wants to reach up and grab him, intertwine their fingers, and assure Dean that he’ll be all right. But everything hurts, it’s difficult to breathe, and he’s not going to be awake for much longer; draining his grace like that wiped him out. Survivable, but dreadfully exhausting.

“Okay,” Dean says again, firm, shifting to move Cas, “let’s get you up.”

White hot pain explodes as Dean brushes against his leg, ricocheting into every other pain across his vessel. His back arches as he shouts, eyes clenching tight, teeth clenching.

“Ngh! Don’t—”

“Okay, okay,” Dean says, voice pained as he changes direction, lifting Cas's head into his lap. He settles and slides a hand into Cas's hair, brushing through slow and careful as he scans him for injuries. Cas is sure his leg is a mess, but the other injuries aren’t as obvious. Cas gasps, breaths shuddering in and out of his chest as he sags, the pain dulling back from the sharp flares at being moved.

“Are...are you all right?” Cas says as the pain fades to the background, eyes slipping closed as he rolls his head against Dean’s thigh towards his stomach. Dean barks a laugh, disbelieving, and shifts the hand in his hair to cup his face.

“Am I all right? Cas, you’re a mess.”

“Are you all right,” Cas repeats, straining through the tightness of his chest. He opens his eyes to look Dean over, searching for any sign that he's lying.

"Yeah," Dean says quietly, sobering as he meets his gaze. He swipes a thumb across Cas's cheek, eyes flicking back and forth across Cas's features. "Yeah I'll live, no thanks to you."

Cas exhales, breath rushing out in relief.

"Good," he whispers. "Good."

They sit like that for a moment and just breathe, pipes clanging in the distance. Cas shifts uncomfortably, arms pinned beneath him.

"Gotta get you up, Cas," Dean murmurs, apologetic, and slowly tugs Cas up and into his arms. Cas fights back a cry as he's shifted, Dean apologizing softly as he goes. Once up, Cas's head lolls against Dean's shoulder. He exhales slowly through his teeth, pushing the pain down and away as best he can. Dean presses a gentle kiss to his hair and turns his attention to Cas's wrists. He tugs at the bindings single-handed, his other arm holding Cas to him. He grunts in frustration as the chains only tighten at his efforts, Cas tensing in his arms. He shifts his hand to Cas's back, rubbing his hand up and down Cas's spine soothingly.

"We're gonna get you out of here, okay? We're gonna make it, Cas," Dean promises. "You hearing me?"

"Yes, Dean," Cas breathes. Everything hurts.

"Just, don't—" Dean takes an unsteady breath, fingers tightening on Cas's shoulder. He buries his face in Cas’s hair, eyes squeezed shut in agony. His voice is hoarse. "Don't you leave me again, Cas. Please. I can't...I can't go through that again. One more time and I'm done. I'm just done."

"Dean—"

"You don't have any idea, man," Dean whispers. "You have no idea what you do to me every time you leave. If I have to go through that again, I—"

He cuts off with a shuddering exhale. Cas's chest aches.

"Dean," he whispers, breathless. He presses his crown to Dean's throat. Dean tips his cheek against Cas's hair and sighs deep. Sam had told Cas in not so many words how hard Dean took each of his deaths and disappearances, but to hear it from Dean himself hurts Cas worse than any physical injury.

"I'm not leaving," Cas promises, voice weak from pain. He's fading again, clinging to consciousness with a death grip. He has to make sure Dean understands. "If we can...can defeat Chuck, I'm not leaving, Dean."

Dean's arm tightens around his back.

"I'm not leaving," Cas whispers again. "I-I want…I want nothing more than to stay by your side."

Dean shudders.

"Cas," he breathes. "I—"

A door bangs open somewhere in the warehouse. The two of them tense, breaths frozen. Dean scans the room for his gun, reaching out with his foot to pull it towards them. Once in his grasp, he pulls it to his lips, murmuring something against the metal, and aims it towards the sound, cocked and ready.

"Dean," Cas starts, but Dean shushes him, pulling him closer.

"We're gonna be fine," he says, reassuring. His eyes are steely as he waits, hand steady on the gun. "I'm not letting him take you away from me.

"Never again."

----

tagging some mutuals who may be interested!! @hashtagbravo @demenior @redriotted @leviathancas @starrynightdeancas

[laryna6]

I’m not going to start posting Lichverse yet even though I finished the novel because there’s worldbuilding stuff that needs to be changed after the reveal that Igris’ species are born from fruits of the world tree instead of being creations of the Monarchs as per monsters (or maybe the creator made monsters to serve the monarchs but canon doesn’t say so I can have fun) and also while I HAVE figured out when to have Jin-Woo’s chest open so people can see he has two hearts I haven’t given up on working in the creepy cute aesthetic and other stuff I want to do earlier.

Also the reveal that in previous timelines Ashborn zombie apocalypse’d humanity (probably bc we were too squishy to survive being ground zero and he couldn’t protect us so he wanted to gather our souls before we got slaughtered more painfully by other monarchs’ armies and ceased to exist - also bc needed larger army to fight other monarchs and keep Antares from killing him and all his shadows with him) as soon as he took over his new host body. So it makes sense that the rulers would ask a human to find a human host and like Il-Hwan would agree - his family lives in a major city. In the case of shadow blitzkreig, they’re all gonna get turned into undead mind-controlled into adoring Ashborn, nothx. Also the Architect didn’t want to pick Jin-Woo, Ashborn insisted, in times where Jin-Woo wasn’t Like That the Architect would have gotten to pick and would have picked an asshole. So Il-Hwan goes looking for the stuff an asshole would have done to level up in a setting where what happens in a dungeon... and then the monster who has repeatedly slaughtered Il-Hwan’s species like cattle is using his son as a host body.

So yeah, Dad has been highkey Suffering.

But, anyway, here’s the current draft of the first chapter of lichverse. Warning for like, canon-typical stuff + also frottage.

Abandoned by everyone, about to be crushed like a bug…

It seemed as though the stone blade paused for a moment, but maybe it was his perception of time slowing down as his death approached.

It was finally over. His sister… mother! The pain would stop… but Mother would die, and Sister… Sister would have to scrabble like he had. A teenage girl?

He’d sold his body to keep his mother alive. Jin-ah…

As the blade crashed down he fell and was caught. Was cradled.

Darkness… a soothing, cool darkness. No more pain, no more fear. But still… warm. This darkness didn’t have a beating heart, but still…

Jin-woo knew the heart of someone who had lost too much, far too much, and would do anything to protect the precious little they had left. He saw someone like that in the mirror, when he couldn’t avoid it.

This person… would never hurt him. Never let him be hurt. He was safe.

“Return to me,” he heard a voice he knew calling for him, and he knew he would always answer.

A black-armored figure before him, flickering with black and purple light. Too large to be human. A monster. A monster and still when Jin-woo found himself on his feet he took a step towards him gladly, eagerly. A step and another. This feeling… like when his Mom or Dad came home and called his name and he ran to them, happy to see them.

He stopped when he had to crane his head back almost painfully far to meet those glowing eyes – an undead – he was an undead…? And saw the concern in them. For him, for a weakling, for nothing, and he knew he was safe. He’d been so scared, everyone had left him to die alone. But someone… someone came. Someone saved him. The relief sent him to his knees as the last of the stress that had kept him on his feet for so long left him.

Slumping even further forward, he bowed his head and pressed against those armored legs. He trembled, the pain and fear he’d had to suppress for so long escaping his body. Day after day, knowing he was already far, far past his estimated life expectancy. Knowing he was going to die and it was going to hurt, and even if he lived he was going to hurt but he had no choice. There had been no choices since Mom was taken from them too.

And that great figure knelt and put a hand on his head.

That mana… it was terrifyingly powerful, but he knew why it didn’t terrify him. Something he’d tried not to think about for years: the moment he’d awakened, feeling mana, power all around him. Power that dwarfed his, could crush him. But it had never even occurred to him to feel fear, because this was his father. Of course his father was the strongest! Of course he would save everyone!

Instead he’d been so happy, running to his dad and saying he could be a hunter now! Like him! They could beat the bad guys together! And his Dad had patted him on the head and said, “Sorry, but you have to wait until you’re a little older before you can fight anything, and by that time I’ll have already beaten the bad guys that are making the gates appear. So you’ll never have to fight.”

“I won’t get to fight?” he’d asked, disappointed.

“Sorry,” his dad said, patting his head apologetically, but not sorry at all.

His dad… they hadn’t invented the measuring technology until a year after he vanished, so Jin-woo didn’t know how strong he was. It wasn’t until Mother was spending long enough asleep that Jin-woo could go get measured after school that he found out why his dad had fought so hard to keep him from ever having to hunt. He’d been proud of his Dad, believed he would have been an s-class, but… would an s-class really have had such a worthless son? But the mana in his memory, it was so much stronger than the a-class he’d seen once.

His father… His dad really was… tears fell from his eyes, and that hand remained to steady him, that mana still cradled him, as pathetic as he was.

He didn’t know how long he cried there, with loss and pain and fear and gratitude. No one… no one since Mother would have held him as he cried. He couldn’t burden Jin-ah or a stranger like that. If someone reported he wasn’t able to provide for Jin-ah…

That made him open his eyes. “Jin-ah…” he said, a plea. Part of him knowing that this person – monster – would understand how precious she was, how he couldn’t bear to fail her.

“You can return to her,” a deep voice promised him. That… the monster language. Was he still speaking Korean?

“Monsters attack humans,” he said, looking down at his hands, how they flickered with darkness too.

“Because they’re controlled by the Ruler’s crystals… but even without them the subjects of most Monarchs would see your kind as resources to exploit.”

Food.

That hand withdrew and the glowing figure shrunk until he met his own eyes, heard his own voice – speaking Korean this time. “You don’t need to be afraid. You know you will never hurt your sister. Or any of those you love.”

“I won’t hurt her?” he asked again, craving reassurance like a child. Like a weakling (the weakest of the weak).

“Never,” he was promised again, without a trace of irritation at having to repeat himself in his voice.

“I shouldn’t believe you.” Shouldn’t take that risk, with Jin-ah.

“Believe yourself.” This time he was scolded a little. “You went out there to die for her, over and over. You would never hurt her.”

It meant nothing that he went to hunt because it really didn’t do anything… he’d fail her eventually, and then she’d… “I failed her.”

“That was…” the other him – monster – the one who cared for him sighed. “That was my fault. I watched you, and how hard you fought to protect them, the wounds you bore… There was someone I wanted to protect. I fought knowing I would fail them, and yet… but you haven’t failed those you love. I am here because of all your struggle, all your pain and sacrifice.” A bottle appeared, was pressed into his hands. “I watched, I saw you, earn this a thousand times over. With this, you can cure your mother.”

Jin-woo drew in a breath, looking up with startled hope. The other him nodded, and he felt the promise. “You won’t have to be afraid anymore. You’re one of mine now. A human would have to gradually adjust to higher mana levels, but as a shadow I can fill you with my power. That wasn’t…” he sighed. “I was going to possess you, but when the Architect began to cast the curse meant to bring about your death, I couldn’t let him. …but I didn’t have enough of a foothold in that dimension to keep the stone from crushing you.” He scowled at himself. “I should have waited until you were safe, then killed the Architect and undone his curse. I have not done right by you. I’m sorry. You deserve better than than what happened to you. The least I owe you is making sure you can return to your life and your loved ones.”

Jin-woo’s eyes widened. An apology? An admission of fault? A being even stronger than his father, lowering itself to apologize to him? A nothing? The weakest of the weak?

Why? Who could force him to do it? Even S-ranks were beyond the law. He didn’t gain anything from it: his power could crush Jin-woo so easily, and if he could shape-shift then he could take Jin-woo’s place as he’d said he’d planned or maybe send another undead?

His hands curled around the bottle, pulling it to his chest as he began to believe it was real. Because the only reason he could see for this monster to apologize was if, if he really did think that Jin-woo deserved better. And if he deserved anything, then his mother deserved to wake, to live.

“The dungeon will close with the Architect dead. You need to return there and escape, or it will take some time for me to get another foothold in the human world and transport you there. My br-the Rulers are doing their best to shield it.”

He had to hurry. His mother… if it took too long they would take her off life support, and for her to die now, because he didn’t bring her the cure in time…

His mirror image nodded. “Go.”

That mana curled around him, bore him elsewhere, and he heard stone groan and topple to the ground a moment before he opened his eyes to find himself on the altar. Oh no, his foot…

His leg was still there!

…Why was he so surprised by that, when his entire body had been crushed, and yet here he was, intact even if he flickered with black and purple. He started to push himself up so he could get off the altar only for the altar to crumble beneath his palm. He stared down at it.

“…Ah. Humans wield strength only through channeling mana, but as a shadow the strength I’ve given you is yours. Until you can learn to control it, there are artifacts that seal all but a fraction of someone’s power, for negotiations. If I give you a few of them… and I know the curse the Architect designed, perhaps I can modify it…”

A window, like on a computer screen? Appeared before Jin-woo, then changed to show equipment? He felt weight after weight settle on him, then become as light as a feather, as thought it had vanished entirely.”

“The closest I can come is still half again as strong as you were before.”

He was stronger than before and this person was apologizing for it? At any time that thought would have stunned him, but how people treated him didn’t matter, not next to what he held in his hands. “That’ll only make me faster,” JIn-woo said, desperate to go.

The window swung out of his way and he jumped down off the altar. Out of the corner of his eye he saw it change once, then again. A bunch of squares. Inventory, it said? Two rows of those squares filled up with a graphic of.. he looked down. The same bottle he held. And in the lower right corner of the image of that bottle? x999

Was that… a thousand of these bottles per square? A potion that could cure Eternal Slumber? They, they’d be rich! He’d never have to run a dungeon again!

“With your power sealed like this, you’re vulnerable. I’ll send you Igris.” He felt another flare of mana, and a red-armored figure kept pace with him easily. “He has been my right hand since long before I became the Shadow Monarch.”

That feeling… Like Jin-ah. ‘One of the few precious people I have left.’

“He will protect you as if you were me.” Jin-woo turned his head to see an image of his mirror image running beside him. The other nodded to Ignes, who nodded in return.

Next to the other Jin-woo saw the status window. His status window. “So I am an undead… You can bring back the dead?” he realized belatedly. “My, my father…”

“He’s not dead,” the other told him. “He was the vessel of one of the fragments of brilliant light, he wouldn’t have died within a space they control unless there was a monarch there, and I’m keeping track of all of them.”

Jin-woo froze, skidded to a halt. “He’s not…” He trembled. His mother, enough money to secure Jin-ah’s future, even… even his father…

“I will try to find him, but I can’t promise anything.”

Jin-woo shook his head quickly before the other could apologize. Even a chance his father could come home, that he, his mother could see him again! “Yours,” he swore. “I’m yours.” Anything, for this. He sold his life and death and pain over and over just to buy time. To have, to have his family… His soul wasn’t enough. He could never repay this.

Was this why a part of him had felt nothing but devotion towards the other as soon as he fell into has grasp? Had he sensed this in the mana? Or not even this, just… the kindness that made someone willing to give him so much, to give a nothing like him…

“You are not nothing,” the other him insisted as Jin-woo fell to his knees, his gratitude overwhelming him again. “Igris.”

Igris scooped him up easily as breathing, and practically flew to the dungeon exit, carefully placing him on his feet, steadying him the way the other and holding him up when Jin-woo tried to go to his knees again.

“You do not kneel before me,” the other told him. “You never have to kneel before me.”

“But…” but then what could he give? What could he offer? He looked at him with desperation.

“I need you,” he was promised. “I need for your will to protect your family. But I’ll explain later. You should be with your family now.” The other him – the one who felt the same desperate wish to protect – looked down at Jin-woo’s shadow and it filled with hundreds of eyes. “You and your sister should get to see your crea- Your mother again. That’s… You should get to have that.”

And Jin-woo knew that the other would never get to have that, never again.

“You won’t fail them,” his other promised him, forceful and desperate and yearning, and Jin-woo heard you won’t fail them the way I did. “We can talk later, there’s time. Take him home, Igris.”

And giant arms held Jin-woo tight until he found himself in front of his apartment door.

He scrambled for his keys, turned them, flung the door open – half again as strong – “Jin-ah!”

“Jin-woo?” he heard her throw herself out of bed, scramble for her bedroom door and through the living room. “JIn-woo? Are you okay?” she asked him.

That wasn’t important. “Mom,” he said, holding open his arms. “Igris, can you take us both?” Red darkness tried to rise from his shadow but the hall was too small and Igris was forced to appear outside. “I found something that can cure Mom.”

Jin-ah stared at him, mouth slipping open as if to ask him if he was serious but he would never say that unless he was. When she could move, she flung herself at him. As a hunter he could already lift her easily, but it wasn’t just his strength that made everything feel so light right now. “Igris… do you know where she is?”

The red-armored giant shook his head.

“I can give you directions.” He went out the door and Igris lifted them both as if they weighed nothing.

“is he a summon?” Jin-ah asked, breathless. “A healer’s summon? Are they going to cure Mom?”

“That way.” A blur, and when Igris was still again, Jin-woo said, “Sort of? I don’t know how to explain, I want to get to Mom. That way.”

Jin-ah didn’t interrupt again, vibrating with eagerness. She didn’t want to make this take any extra time either.

“That window, there,” JIn-woo said when they were outside of the hospital. Igris sat them down, swept his cloak over them and there they were, in the room.

Jin-woo lifted up the bottle to look at it and a window with a description and directions appeared next to it. She just had to drink the entire bottle? That easy? They were that close? He dodged around Jin-ah to get to the bed, then stopped, forced himself to go slow, to open her mouth carefully. He was stronger than before. He couldn’t hurt her, not like this. Not when they were this close.

A progress bar. Lists of ailments – muscular atrophy, eternal sleep… And everything finished counting down as Jin-ah shook him and asked, “Is it working? Is it working?”

And then she opened her eyes. “Jin-woo…” A moment more, an intake of breath, “Jin-ah?” he saw his mother realize how long it must have been. “Then…” He saw her look past them. He knew who she looked for, who she had watched for for so long.

“He’s alive,” he told her. “He’s alive and I’ll bring him home, I promise.” He could make a promise like that, as weak and pathetic as he was, because he had help.

He saw her look at him and frown, the way she’d frowned when she found out he was doing dungeons. The, ‘Are you kidding me? I’m an adult, we take care of things. Your job is to stay safe and study.’

Study… those potions, they had money, he wouldn’t have to do low-level dungeon runs.

His other self needed him for something and Jin-woo would make it happen no matter what, do anything for the person who gave him this. But… tomorrow wouldn’t be like today. Tomorrow his mother would be home.

A nurse finally arrived, her head downcast and shoulders slumped, and he saw her look up, then stare when she saw his Mother sitting up instead of lying there dead. “I found potions in a dungeon,” Jin-woo told her to forestall questions. “I’ll give you five of them if you let us leave, now.”

“My clothes…?” Mom asked the nurse.

The nurse blinked, “Ah, we returned your clothes to your family…” Because they’d known she was never leaving that bed.

And Jin-woo hadn’t brought anything. He went to the window, yanked it open, jumped out. “Igris?” he asked, then hesitated. He’d just ordered around something – someone – so powerful? Was that really okay? But Igris appeared and swept his cloak over Jin-woo again, and Jin-woo found himself in the entryway at home.

He’d forgotten to even close the door, let alone lock it. Clothes! Right, his mom’s clothes! He threw some of everything into a bag, then ran out and looked up at Igris hopefully. “Thank you,” he said as the cloak swept over him again, putting him in the hospital room.

The fact he’d screwed up by forgetting clothes for his Mom… That was, that was the kind of thing that happened in real life. This was, this was real. He dumped the bag out on Mom’s bed, throwing the clothes down hard enough to make the mattress bounce a little. “Sorry,” he said, but found himself grinning. He hadn’t… He hadn’t failed them

They were okay.

He…

Anything.

Anything.

He’d do anything for them. For this. Maybe he’d been turned into a monster, maybe he was going to be used to kill humans, but who cared as long as Jin-ah and Mom were okay?

He wanted the inventory screen open and it was. Reached and pulled five bottles out, one after another, as the nurse pulled over a curtain so Mom could get dressed.

“They just have to drink it all, every drop,” he told the nurse. “That’s it.”

“Potions are a thing now?” his Mom asked from behind the curtain.

Questions.

Oh shit.

Um.

He did not give a damn what was up with the other him or exactly how dead he was or anything like that, but he could not tell Mom that he died. He was not going to do that to her.

“I think Jin-woo reawakened and he’s a spatial mage now, Mom,” Jin-ah said helpfully. “Pulling those out of thin air is spatial magic, and he’s got a summon that can teleport us.”

She didn’t mention the flickering black and purple at all? Not that Jin-woo was going to bring up anything else he’d have to explain! It seemed ungrateful to claim that Igris was his summon, take credit for everything the other him had done, but it was better than making them worry.

The mana that was in Jin-woo now wasn’t his, but it felt like it could have been his, because the feelings in it… they were all feelings he knew. A lot of them too well. Someone so powerful wasn’t ‘another him,’ but… there were things that were the same. They were akin? Kind of like family.

So he said, “Igris can take us home.” They could be home, instead of having to wait torturous minutes on the subway. For him and Jin-ah it had been too long since Mom had been home. He needed to see her there, and then he’d be able to believe a little more that this was real.

But it helped, when she came out from behind the curtain. It helped so much when she wrapped her arms around him.

When they were home at last one of them wanted to go to sleep. Jin-woo desperately didn’t want his mom to go to sleep, but eventually she told them to get to bed and they went.

Shit. Did he have a bedtime again? He wouldn’t have to ride on public transit out to gates?

…when had he last gotten eight straight hours of sleep?

He’d been trying not to think about it. But he’d known. That he was wearing thinner and thinner. That it was only his youth letting him get away with how hard he was pushing himself. That he couldn’t keep this up forever.

…He lay down in bed and realized he didn’t feel tired at all.

…Did he need to sleep anymore? Mom had fed them, so he knew he could eat, but did he need to? He raised his hand to look at it. How energy flickered around it, but the hand itself didn’t flicker, as though he was solid or real or alive.

Thank goodness he still had body heat, or Mom and Jin-ah would have noticed when they hugged him.

…when had he last been hugged?

He wanted the menu thing open again. The status page. Sung Jin-woo the Enduring. General-class Shadow, Lvl. Max.

Shadow, was that what he was? Igris had appeared out of and vanished into his shadow sometimes, he recalled. ‘General…’ was… so he would need to fight. Something about protecting humans? If that wasn’t a lie.

He knew it wasn’t a lie. His hand went to his heart.

But he wasn’t an idiot, and things too good to be true… There had to be a catch somewhere. The fact he was so certain, the way he loved the other him the way he’d only loved Jin-ah, his mother and his father… He didn’t trust people like this. They knew he was worthless (he was worthless), so they treated him like that and he knew they were going to treat him that way.

But… someone who hadn’t wanted him to die… like his father had wanted to protect him, like his mother had wanted to take care of him, like Jin-ah had decided to be a doctor because she wanted to get better at patching him up… Someone who apologized to him like he was worth apologizing to.

The way his mom had apologized to him for being gone so long, for putting so much on his shoulders. She told him he was strong, was amazing, for bearing it, for doing so well.

In his status screen. ‘The Enduring,’ like he was worthy of a title, of anything.

The other him was something from the gates. That meant a monster. An enemy of humanity. But the more he thought about it, the more certain he became that he could trust him. Like family.

Jin-woo frowned.

…No, Dad would absolutely not have had a kid with a monster or something. He felt like he needed to say sorry even for thinking that.

“Igris?” he asked, and the knight appeared, sitting next to his bed in order to fit in his bedroom. “How do I talk to him again? Should I go inside a gate?”

Igris shook his head and raised his cloak again, tilting his head questioningly.

Jin-woo got into a sitting position and nodded. “Thanks, Igris.”

Instead of tensing up he relaxed when he found himself in the darkness, surrounded by the other him’s power. When he saw him. “Thank you,” he said. “I can’t ever thank you enough.”

The other him shook his head. “I’m glad you could have that. Your family, safe for now. I’m glad I was able to help bring it about. There’s still someone missing. I’m limited in what I can do without revealing I’m active. I’m sure the Rulers know since they’ve been using the blood they shed to time-travel, but the monarchs… The Architect was still willing to work with me, but the instant they realize I won’t help them loot your world they’ll go back to trying to make me stay dead.”

“Can they?” Sung Jin-woo asked, eyes widening. Could he lose this person? He couldn’t… to have a chance at having everyone home, and then lose the person who made it possible…

“No power is limitless. Even that of our creator.” The other him touched his replica of Jin-woo’s chest.

“…Do you have a name?” Jin-woo asked, to change the subject. Even if it sounded like he’d need to know about that eventually, he didn’t want the other him to have to try to explain it when there was so much Jin-woo didn’t know that an explanation wouldn’t help when he didn’t have the context for it.

“Ashborn, now. The Monarch of Shadows.”

“So I’m a shadow, and my class is General?”

“Not a class, but a rank.” Ashborn was silent a moment and then said, as though confessing. “Igris’ counterpart was trapped inside a barrier in the last battle. She couldn’t return to my shadow when her body was destroyed and her mana was torn apart. Unless you’re trapped in such a barrier, I’ll be able to bring you back no how many times your new bodies are destroyed. I sent Igris with you in case one of the humans hosting the power of the rulers finds you and realizes you’re mine. He can summon himself, but I must teach you how to quickly remove the limiters reducing your power and call your forces from your shadow.” He waved at the eyes gazing up at Jin-woo from his shadow. Or what pretended to be a normal shadow. “Once you know that much, it should be safe to let you return to the human world. For now. Once you have a serviceable knowledge of necromancy, Igris will teach you to dodge-tank, and after that you can choose your own combat training.”

“So I’ll be fighting?” Jin-woo asked.

“I’m sorry,” Ashborn said, as though that was anything to apologize for. “You will be attacked by all sides for being one of mine.”

And Jin-woo felt Ashborn’s pain in his mana, the pain of an old wound. How many of his had Ashborn lost…?

“But you’re good at surviving,” Ashborn told him, rallying. “I hope… Humans are so peaceful.”

There was soft longing in Ashborn’s voice, so Jin-woo didn’t say anything like, ‘what planet are you from?’ Jin-woo had attended that much school. Even before the gates, humans had huge wars and shit. But if idealizing humanity gave him something to hope for, then Jin-woo wasn’t going to burst his bubble.

“Compared to us,” Ashborn added, and Jin-woo realized that Ashborn’s mana was flowing through him and back into Ashborn. Right. So Ashborn would know his emotions too. “You hope that Jin-ah will never have to fight, not even to defend herself. The fact that you consider this a possibility… But I will show you how to assign her bodyguards.”

Trying to find out what exactly Ashborn wanted from him so he could deliver it on a silver platter could happen later. Protecting Jin-ah? He needed to know how to do that now.

“I will send an army with you, and show you how to summon them. If they are killed, they can be revived again and again, as long as you have mana. Let me give you this, to be sure you won’t be left unprotected.” A still beating black heart appeared in Ashborn’s hands, bleeding white flames.

He stepped forward. He’d had his ribs cut open before. For Mom, for Jin-Ah. Ashborn could do whatever he wanted to Jin-Woo, and he’d just be grateful he could be useful to the person who saved him. Who chose him.

But those hands and the heart just passed through his chest like a ghost’s, and there was no pain, just warmth in his body like drinking a hot cup of coffee on a cold night, and Ashborn’s mana flooding into him now that he could hold so much more of it. “Ah… Ah…” he gasped for breath, feeling that care melt him away, filling him so full it felt like he couldn’t take anymore and then something in him gave way – opened, and he jerked, head flung back, and panted even harder when there was more, the warmth in his chest and the butterflies in his stomach sparking heat that drove him to take a stumbling step forward. Seeking Ashborn, needing him. So amazed at arms around him, someone holding him up, helping him stand and he needed Ashborn. He’d needed someone, so desperate for so long, knowing no one cared but Jin-Ah and he’d die to keep her from having to bear this.

He craved Ashborn desperately, two hearts pounding in his chest loud enough to drown out all other sound.

For so long he’d felt so empty, so numb to everything but the pain of survival and dread of the inevitable, but now he was full, full of love and he wanted, wanted more, wanted to drink down more of what Ashborn gave him and drown in it, drown in him. He pressed against him, panting against his lips, moving his hips as he tried to bury himself inside the body that matched his – Ashborn thought he was pretty enough for it to be worth wearing that face himself, even if Jin-Woo didn’t have the money for plastic surgery and that was one more reason it was impossible to find a job that paid well enough to replace hunting.

Fire filled his veins and only Ashborn could quench it, and his liege held Jin-woo, warm arms around him, warm body against him, giving him everything he needed, letting him have everything he wanted, and more.

More and more, and then without warning white fire burned everything away.

When it receded, Ashborn was still holding him in his arms. “I could feel that you were alright, but you sounded like you were in pain.”

“It was good…” he moaned, hips jerking again, and then horror tried to penetrate through the warm lassitude. Had he just, just rubbed himself off against, against… the one he owed everything?! “I’m sorry!”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who should apologize. I knew Baran conceived when his battle-lust reached its peak, I just didn’t realize that the pounding of his heart was connected.”

“Con- con-“

“The Monarchs and Rulers were made capable of bringing forth armies. I… After… I am no longer capable of that. All I can do is preserve what’s left of my children, and shelter the fallen children of others.”

“Am I….?!!” A terrified shriek escaped Jun-Woo.

“I thought your body wasn’t the type that created children?” Ashborn looked down at where their bodies were joined. “Your mother and Jin-Ah are the same type and you’re a different type, yes? Or was it your Dad who created the children and that’s why no more workers were produced to help support the hive after he left?”

“I’m an undead now, so, um…” He buried his head in his hands, feeling really stupid, and in front of Ashborn. He wanted to die. Again.

But Ashborn still held him, Ashborn’s affection and admiration for him still poured through him.

“I’m sorry,” he said though.

“I think it’s admirable, how dedicated you are to taking care of your family. Of course you would want to be sure you hadn’t created a child when you’re still learning to control your own strength and might not be able to protect them.”

Like when people assumed he was some kind of thrill-seeking idiot, Jin-Woo thought ‘I could explain, but I don’t want to have that conversation,” and kept his mouth shut.