#but man it's gotten so much harder to buy stuff to own

[transwolfsmut]

CW. Force feminization followed by soft force masc, some intox. Older cis guy 4 younger trans guy; I imagine them as being around 45 and 22 but adjust as you please in your imagination.

This is an erotic fantasy. IRL I do not condone any way of disrespect towards trans bodies and identities; and I'm an adult trans man + gender fluid.

You've been for a while at the bar when you notice I've been watching you. You've come here on your own, unwinding after a though week. I've seen you have a cheeseburger and 2-3 beers while I drink some harder liquor. You are a cute boy and you catched my attention right away with your alt clothing, like you're trying very hard to look rugged and masc. I knew that you're trans, it's not my first time around you boys and I've never hidden how much I like your smaller hands, your curvy bodies, your chin fuzz, your masculine ways, your smell, your taste. You get startled when you notice you're being watched by a handsome middle aged man who smiles at you when you lock eyes with him. For a split second you feel this weird sense of opposing gender envy and sexual attraction, looking at my salt-and-pepper beard, the chiseled jawline, how good the shirt falls into my chest, the insinuated bulge in my jeans. The hairs of your nape stand and your eyes nervously go back to the remaining fries on your plate when you see me pick up my glass and walk towards you. I sit next to you and your heart is pounding.

I introduce myself and offer a hand to shake. You aren't the guy that is used to talking to strangers but there's something in my voice that makes you feel relaxed, almost hypnotized. You notice a tiny trans flag enamel pin on my denim jacket and you wonder if I'm trans or an ally- either way it makes you feel safe and start to relax around me. I offer to buy you a drink and when you ask for another beer I laugh a bit. "No, kid, you've gotta drink like a grown man." I ask for a couple more drinks, same of what I've been drinking before. I drink it down in a gulp and lock my eyes into yours, waiting for you to do the same. You do so, nervous. The liquor burns in your throat and warmth rushes beneath your skin. I smile, it's a pretty smile. I ruffle your hair. "There you are, my man." You blush. You didn't get annoyed at me ruffling your hair, it actually felt good to be petted like a good dog.

We go on talking and I go on getting you drunk. You know I am. You're getting dizzy, you laugh, you're enjoying the company, you finally feel relieved from the week's stress. Making a friend, that's something you didn't expect tonight. It feels good, the attention of an older man who actually shows interest in you, your chit chat about the stuff that you like. You lean your head on my shoulder for a second and then you jolt back to sitting straight, you've gotten too comfortable around me and feel ashamed. You don't even know if I'm into men, but you've felt kinda attracted to me. Is it the liquor? Is it the loneliness? Is it my musky scent, the protective aura around me? I grope your leg, a bit too close to your crotch. "Let's get somewhere more private." I suggest in a whisper. Your eyes widen, you blush and nod without looking at me.

I pay for the consumption and we leave the bar. "Are you out of your mind!?!?" Your brain screams at you, but you don't stop. You follow me into my car, you gasp when I lean into you and kiss you, you are melting at the way my beard tickles you and how I'm exploring the inside of your mouth with my tongue. I hold the hair of the back of your head brusquely and pull you away from me. "You ok with this, man?" I ask. You nod, speechless. I smile. "Fine, let's go home".

My place is nothing special, the small apartment you'd expect from a single man. I am groping your butt as I push you to the bedroom and into my bed. It's fluffy and comfortable. You'd happily sleep away the intoxication of the alcohol but I'm quickly on top of you and you realize my erection is rubbing on you bum. I lick your ear, and you roll on the bed to face me. "God, you're so handsome" I compliment as my hand creeps down between your legs. I rub on your bits through the hard fabric of your denim pants, and in the moment you moan, I step away. You're a bit perplexed, then you see me strip away from my jacket and shirt and go to the nightstand to grab a joint I carefully pre-rolled before I left the house. "You don't mind?" I ask, while already blazing it up. You shrug. You've done pot before, maybe had some edibles, but that shit I'm smoking definitely smells stronger than anything you've had before. I offer the joint. You take it, smoke from it and cough violently. "Good boy" I say while I again caress the spot between your legs. You smoke some more and the movements of my hand get more pleasurable. You soon realize I'm rewarding you- the more you smoke, the better it feels down there. You're feeling so relaxed, it feels good to let your guard down. You let me strip you from your pants and I start eating you out. I'm careful to only lick your clit, I'm not going anywhere near your hole. I mean your dick. But it's so small I can't think of it as anything than a clit. I notice you're getting wet. You're too high to offer any resistance when I grab you and place you in the middle of the bed, undoing your shoes and taking away every piece of clothing except for your binder. I take off the remaining of my clothing and lean on you, rubbing my boner on your pubic area.

"You want it inside of you". I whisper in your ear. You gasp. "You do want it inside, don't you?" You nod, you shake your head, uncertain. "Oh, puppy, don't deny it. Your body knows." I tap on your bits and a sweet splotchy sound confirms you're soaking wet. "You wouldn't be so naturally lubed up if you didn't want it". My cock is teasing at your hole. "It wouldn't feel so good if you didn't need to be filled". It's just one inch of me going inside of you, parting your labia. "You wouldn't spread open like this if your body wasn't made for this." You moan, as you feel me slowly penetrate you. "Your body wouldn't have this precious hole if it wasn't meant to be filled with cock". You feel it moving inside you. You suddenly realized I never put on a condom, but you're so dazed by the alcohol, the weed and the pleasure to care. I catch up speed, going in and out of you. "You wouldn't enjoy cock in your pussy so much if you weren't made for this... To pleasure males". You open your mouth, you want to protest but only more moaning comes out as I rub your clit while pumping my penis inside of you. "Oh you wanna say something?" I pull out and force you to open your mouth and take my cock covered in your wetness. "Can you detect those? The taste of your vagina, the smell of my balls? The natural distinction of your body and mine?" You're choking on my cock the further into your mouth I push it and face fuck you while I extend a hand behind me to reach into your clit and rub it. It feels both pleasurable and degrading. "I'm gonna pull out and you will say Yes, Sir" I tell you. I wait for one more minute before I do so. You gasp for air, confused and dripping spit. "Yes, Sir" you hear your own voice reply, but it doesn't feel like your own. "Good girl" I whisper in your ear as I ram back inside your pussy and it clenches around my shaft, your hips move by mere instinct in reaction to my own movements.

You hear your voice moaning, and yet it doesn't seem like your own. You're making high pitched girly noises while some guy you met in a bar is fucking your cunt. Perhaps it's the anonymity of being strangers what's allowing you to show yourself like this. Perhaps it's all the booze and the weed that's brought down your defenses. Perhaps it was me who saw through a crack in your stoic mask and knew what you needed. Some good thick cock pumping away all the worries. Your mind is drifting away when I pull out from you, panting. We're not done yet, and you know it so you just remain on the bed. You see me take something out of a drawer.

"It's ok, my man. Let her have this." I tell you before ripping your binder with a pocket knife. I have quickly and masterfully picked up the fabric with one hand while I ran the blade with the other hand, making it slide between your boobs. Just a tiny and swift caress of the knife on the center of your chest, and it feels like I just cut through some energetic field of yours. You fall into the mattress, your binder now like an open vest revealing your tummy and your chest, your tits bouncing liberated from the restriction. You feel ashamed and free. How come? This opposing sensations clash in your brain and before you can even start to process it, I'm grabbing your tits and my mouth latches onto one of your nipples. I lick on your nipples- going back and forth between the right one and the left one- I'm making a circular motion with my hands that feel just right and then I suck on your nipples and press on your breasts as if I wanted to milk you. "You're just divine, sweet one. To be praised, to be corrupted. I want to do so many things to you." My voice is jumping between need and authority. I start to finger you, circling between using a single finger to press directly into your G spot, using two fingers to explore deeper and three of them to dilate your pussy before I use it again with my cock. "I know you're a boy but let's be honest, you're enjoying being my sweet girl. Don't you?" You nod. You obey when I make you take off what's left of your binder and and get on all fours. "Say you want this". My dick is pressing at your opening, my hands are making circles on your buttocks. "I want this." You confess in a whisper. "I need this". Your teeth tighten around your words, you're too ashamed to actually say how much you need this and it feels so good to finally admit it. "You're such a good girl" I say when my cock slides back into you and you gasp with pleasure, feeling it go as deeply as possible and poke at your cervix. It's a bit painful but you can take it. "You were made for this. Your body was made to take cock like this. It's ok. Your body knows it's female and it doesn't matter your mind is that of a man. It feels good to be bred." I grab your titties and milk them while I fuck you deeper and faster. "A horny, eager female boy that was desperate to serve his purpose, her purpose. To be filled with cock and please a real male man". You feel me making circles very deep inside of you feel your body twitch in pleasure like never before. "Say you're my girl." I'm stroking your clit with one hand, grabbing your hip with the other and giving you additional movement so my cock digs more aggressively into your cunt. "Say you are my girl." You're so close. Your legs are shaking and your body is dripping sweat. You feel your heartbeat deep inside your vagina. "Say you are my girl". You feel it coming from inside, this heat, this thundering wave. You raise your upper body from the mattress. I'm sort of kneeling and you're sitting on my thighs, my penis buried inside of you. Your hips bouncing up and down, taking the penetration desperate for release. "I'm your girl!" You are almost screaming. "I'll be a girl for you!" You cum. It's massive. A release like never before. You've squirted on me and soon you realize my own cum is dripping from your cunt. The sticky heat makes you shiver, and you feel me make a few more circular movements around your cervix before I pull out and my cock rests between your labia. You look downwards and see your own body. Your exposed breasts and my penis between your legs. It sort of looks like if it was your own dick. Your brain is confused. Your mind, your gender and your sex feel like static.

I push you softly down into the bed, I caress your hair. Your eyes close, and your body goes limp with drowsiness. You hear me walk to the bathroom and move some stuff there. I come to you and lead you to the bathroom where I have set up a small chair, where you now sit. I make you raise your head, holding your chin. I gaze into your face, still blushing from the intense sex. I comb your hair and start trimming it. You're so deep down into your subspace you just let me do whatever I want to your hair. I use an electric clipper and some scissors on you, like a soft caress. "A man like you deserves a good haircut" I whisper in your ear as you feel the hairs falling on your shoulders. "You'll make one lovely gentleman". You feel the cool air in your scalp, it's refreshing.

I lead you into the shower and let the warm water carry away the trimmed hairs away from your shoulders. Your body relaxes and feels safe as you allow me to bathe you, a certain sense of danger that was lingering from having a stranger do all those nasty things to you is washed away. You know you are safe with me. The smell of soap and stereotypical male scented shampoo fill your nosetrils. I take a bit too long to wash your genitals, rubbing my hand between your labia and making you tremble from the stimulation, but I stop as soon as I see you're getting too excited about it. I wrap you in a towel, and take you back into the bedroom. You are smiling goofily when I show you a mirror and let you look at your brand new haircut. It suits you fine. A rush of gender euphoria jolts up your spine, and your sense of gender is no longer mixed up. The smells of the bath, the haircut- you already feel more manly.

You see me grab some stuff from my clothes drawer and you look in awe as I hand you a brand new binder, much better than the one I just ripped while fucking you. You had forgotten about it, distracted by all the pleasure. "You wouldn't think I'd leave you without any means to flatten your chest, right? Go, on try it". A thought crosses your mind: did I just have a drawer full of binders in different sizes or have I been watching you for days or even weeks and calculated your size? Do I do this often to other trans guys? You shake the thought away and you put the binder on. It fits great. You put your shirt back on and just before pull your underwear up, I get close to you coming from behind, feral. You feel a pinch in your buttock. You turn around hastily and find out I've got an injection in my hand. Your eyes widen, confused; your heart starts racing, afraid. It lasts only a second because I show you a vial of testosterone. The fear becomes surprise and then exhilaration. I've just injected you T. You hadn't started before, this is the first time the hormone enters your body. You want to get angry at me for doing so without telling but you can't, you're just amazed as the possibility of changes open up in your mind. I turn around to deposit the vial and injection in a shelf and grab something more from my closet.

I stick my hand down your undies and you feel something different: I'm shoving a packer in between your legs. You didn't have one when you arrived at my place. "A man needs his own dick" I whisper as I pull my hand out to rub your new soft dick over your clothing. I push you to the wall and masturbate your new dick while grinding my own on you. "Maybe next time I'll fuck you in the ass, make you take it as men do". You moan, about to cum again. "That shot I gave you will make you insufferably horny. You'll have to get back to me, to this place, so you can get more of that T-juice and to get fucked... Who knows? Maybe one day I'll allow you to top me". I squish your balls and jerk you off strategically, you feel the packer pressing against your bits in just the perfect way so it feels like it's your own penis. "Will you come back?" You nod. I rub you faster and harder. "You're such a good boy". You cum. You surrender. You're mine. My girl. My boy. All of you. Mine.

[saywhatjessie]

We Should Just Kiss Like Real People Do

Advent Calendar Day 6! (prompts by @raven-cincaide-words) Today’s prompts: Picking a Mistletoe | Secret Relationship | Jealousy  Fandom: D20: Misfits and Magic - Pairing: SamEvan 1.5k[Ao3]

Evan had spent three winters in the Uk, but this was the first time he was doing Christmas.

He and his friends had fought the variant of Tedershacourt that first Christmas, and he kind of figured all holidays with friends meant little adventures and slaying monsters. It’s what he was good at, so he didn’t really mind.

But living with Sam had taught him about other stuff he was good at. He was good at keeping a home if he knew he could stay. He was good at grocery shopping and finding the best deals, and he was good at drawing baths and remembering to take the trash out.

It turned out, Even was good at being kept. Which was amazing news for him since that was all he’d ever wanted.

He wasn’t good at keeping secrets, though.

“Hey, there’s my boy!” Jammer crowed, pulling Evan into a dap and then a hug. Evan hugged him back, clapping him on his shoulders  without hitting his wings.

“Hey, there Jammer.” Evan gave him a small smile. “How was the flight?”

“Oh, I’m getting real good at the albatross thing,” Jammer said. “I was worried when it got colder I wouldn’t be able to find that warm current to lock into but no I got it! It’s there!”

“I love that for you, man, never doubted you for a second.”

Jammer laughed, clapping Evan on the back again before going to greet Sam.

Everyone knew Evan was crashing with Sam. After their last adventure where they saved magic on spring break, it was universally decided that Evan couldn’t stay in his weird apartment full of tape marking a place for everything but himself. And Sam had offered and Evan wanted to live in a big treehouse with all his friends forever so if this was a way for him to get part of that dream, he’d take it.

That’s the part everyone knew. Everyone didn’t know that Sam and Evan slept in the same bed. And Evan was allowed to kiss Sam now – was in fact encouraged to kiss her. His friends didn’t know that they held hands on the couch and Sam introduced him to her celebrity friends as ‘my boyfriend, Evan.’

Not even “My haunted white boyfriend,” just “my boyfriend”. Evan felt like he was in a fairytale.

But it was a secret. Because of K. Because they were all best friends and Sam and K were best friends and Evan was a dirty homie hopper who just desperately wanted his friends to still love him even when he was selfishly letting himself be kept.

Sam did not think the secrecy was necessary. She thought K would be cool, Jammer would be supportive, and no one would be weird.

Except she was already wrong because Evan would be weird. So they were keeping it a secret for now.

Or trying to.

K arrived next and they all said hello and Evan was desperately trying to be normal. It was so much harder now: since he’d gotten the boon from Tadershacourt and decided to stop masking, it had become so much more comfortable to just be himself. To be honest and off putting and naturally Kelmp. And now he was trying to put on an act again and it fit like a school uniform he’d grown out of. Like pants he’d owned when he hadn’t had enough to eat. It chafed and made him sweaty: two things that would definitely give him away.

“Oh, I’m so glad you guys are here!” Sam said, her hands still holding K’s as she smiled at their friends. Evan couldn’t help but smile back at her. She had the most beautiful smile in the world. “Evan and I just walked past the Christmas market in town and I didn’t let myself shop around because I wanted to wait for both of you to get here but now I really want to go back because they had such cute stuff.”

“Ah, man, I don’t know how much shit I can fly with,” Jammer said, frowning.

“Oh, don’t worry about that! If you buy anything I’ll ship it for you! Or I can have my assistant ship it for you. Or, really, she's T2's assistant. T2 has found it so much easier dealing with business when she has a human to handle the one-on-ones for him.”

“Oh, T2 got an assistant?” K said, gripping onto Sam’s hands and bouncing on their toes. “What a little mover and shaker.”

“I know! And she’s really helped T2 and Evan reconcile.”

Evan smiled again, closed lips, as he shoved his hands in his pockets. What really helped Evan and T2 reconcile was Evan deciding he couldn’t have beef with a teacup pig who wasn’t even trying to be Sam’s dog and T2 accepted that Evan was going to sometimes sit at Sam’s feet and that was okay.

Evan wasn’t sure if they were friends, but Evan hadn’t had to threaten him with a tapout again.

They obviously went to the Christmas market because Sam wanted to go to the Christmas market and Sam was kind of the person in charge always. 

Jammer and K, not new to visiting London but still visitors instead of residents like Evan and Sam, quickly lost them as they ran around the market, other patrons having to duck out of the way of Jammer’s wings.

Which left Evan and Sam to walk at a leisurely pace through the market stalls. Evan would have normally taken Sam’s hand. He liked holding her hand and in the past few months she’d managed to convince him she liked it too. He was comfortable, now, being the one to reach out to her. And she was so happy and proud of him for it.

But he didn’t let himself hold her hand here. This was a secret. He didn’t want to upset his friends because he was selfish.

Sam took his hand, pulling him along behind her as she also ran off. This was a good compromise – Sam was so smart. He smiled at her, stumbling after her as she pulled him along.

She towed him to stall after stall, always buying at least one thing to support the business and having Evan carry it in his backpack. His backpack was usually mostly empty these days but he still carried it. For Sam.

They were at a holiday botanical tent when Evan felt the familiar whoosh of Jammer’s wings. He looked up, expecting to see Jammer hovering over them, and he was. Holding a sprig of mistletoe.

“Uh oh!” Jammer said, grinning and posing in midair. “Looks like some people havta kiss.”

Evan immediately started stuttering and Sam just smiled up at him.

“If you’re holding it, Jammer, does that mean we have to kiss you too?”

Jammer pulled his body up higher, reaching his hand way below himself. The flapping of his wings to keep him in place was causing a lot of chaos ont he ground. “I’m not below it! I’m above it! I’m not a kissee in this case!”

“Yup!” Called K and Evan whipped around to see her crouching like a gargoyle on one of the tents. “Jammer and I are safely above. You too, though?” They sighed, dreamily, beginning their clasped hands to their cheek like the Disney princess they sometimes were. “Caught under the mistletoe. One of the sweetest holiday tropes of all time.”

Evan gaped, slightly. “And you’re cool with that?”

K pulled a face like  ‘Duh’. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Then they seemed to realize. “Oh! Because we used to–? Oh, Evan! New season new pairings! Come on, dude!”

“Is that why you’ve been so weird?” Jammer asked, looking like he was gonna try to land next to K but thinking better of it. “Evan, man, kiss her! We want you to! You want to! She wants you to! It’s all good!”

K started chanting “kiss her kiss her kiss her” and it then other patrons started joining in “kiss her kiss her kiss her” and Evan looked at Sam who was smiling at him, beautiful as always, but a little nervous. Like she knew this wasn’t what Evan wanted. Like she was afraid he’d run away and leave her unkissed.

But Evan would never do that. As long as Sam was there, smiling at him like she did, and wanting him to kiss her, he would.

So he did. And the gathered patrons erupted before quickly losing interest and their friends applauded from above them and Evan bought the mistletoe. 

Because his friends picked it. Just like they’d picked him. And as long as Evan and Sam kept picking each other, it felt important to honor that choice.

And also because his shadow got in the habit of popping up with the mistletoe at random moments so he and Sam would kiss. Which was nice.

If Christmases could always be like this – no adventures or monsters to fight – Evan thought that might be okay.

[td-frog]

thoughts on disventure camp e4:

tom and jake

seeing people complain about tom being a hypocrite for snarking at jake here and i agree that it is hypocritical. but i don't think it's bad writing (i honestly really like it?)

like. tom and jake are messy. they have no communication. they overreact to everything. that's like their whole thing.

idk why tom ghosted after the first season, or while he's continuing to be distant (and now, more openly hostile). this is because the show hasn't told us yet. i assume, given that it's only episode 4 and this plot is getting a lot of attention, that there will eventually be some explanation. it doesn't really feel out of character to me at this point, just that we're missing information.

also specifically the reason i like this interaction is because it makes it very clear that tom is also being shitty here! like imo that was clear from the very start with the ghosting and dodging confrontation stuff, but more recently the focus has been on jake's jealousy. and while i do think jake is being unreasonable as well, tom is not innocent. as before, they are messy!!

villians' alliance and elimination

first off: i so called miriam being out this episode. didn't know the exact context, but in order for the alec helping fiore plot to work long term she needed to be out of the picture.

i like that she played well here though. like she did exactly what she should have done in the situation and it just didn't work out. sad to see her go, but not surprised.

poor connor tho :( my man's all alone now. i'm hoping that with grett turning on yul (you go girl) that maybe he'll last a bit longer

also yet again reminded why i love alec as a player and a villain. he's so good at planning and thinking things through, and he's not just thinking in terms of his own best interest. man plays this game like chess.

like. the rest of yellow team would have happily let ellie or fiore lose and get booted despite the alliance. alec's main goal was to get rid of miriam, but at the same time he was proving to ellie (and less so fiore) that he was also looking out for them.

i also like that it's not working out as cleanly as he'd like. miriam exposing him may not have been a problem here, but it will be later. in s1 he was able to largely fly under the radar for a while, and now is having to change tactics.

other thoughts

aiden and tess made me smile :) i want them to be friends

like ally's apology and hunter's non-apology (and fiore's wtf response). i think ally's really sweet and i get why fiore doesn't buy it but i'm glad someone on this team was like "maybe bullying a child is wrong"

ashley's backstory :(

predictions for next episode

elimination is harder to predict because the teams are even again. i'm thinking yellow team again makes the most sense, given the inevitable fallout of the villain reveal and the vote for yul. my guess would be connor vs. yul (vs. alec?) and of those three i see yul as most likely.

(could also be connor but the letter from miriam might save him somehow; i'm mainly doubting that they'd take him out of the competition here bc that'd be pretty unsatisfying for the connoriya drama. kind of leaning this actually bc yul being betrayed but not eliminated could also be juicy.)

if it's not yellow team... i could see gabby on cyan, mostly through process of elimination. tom and aiden need to stick around for the drama with jake, ellie's got the villain thing, and tess hasn't really gotten to do much other than be stuck in the middle of things.

gabby also hasn't really gotten to do anything besides support ellie, but i wouldn't be surprised to see her go early- like with james and lake, it feels like her character so far this season has been more in support of another character, and the impact her elimination would have on ellie feels like the most likely plot direction for this team to take.

that said idk why anyone would vote gabby out at this point. but i digress.

i really doubt it'll be magenta. fiore and jake have their own plots happening that i doubt will be wrapped up next episode, hunter and ally's relationship feels like it needs slightly more focus and deterioration before either of them goes home, and ashley just doesn't really seem likely?

aside from elimination

jake's gonna be sad about miriam. i think tom might be too, but unclear how exactly he'll react. will definitely make their whole thing worse, because for some reason they decided miriam should hold the brain cell of their relationship.

yellow team is definitely gonna have drama: fallout from miriam telling everyone alec was untrustworthy, the whole situation with grett and yul's relationship, connor being the only outsider to the alliance.

not sure what else- hunter and ally might have some plot progression, but i think those top two bullets will be the main points.

also whatever advantage connor got will definitely come up- seen speculation that it's like the "make people switch teams" card riya got in s2 but idk how that would play out

[thotsforvillainrights]

Happy anniversary!

Which got me craving form some mla headcanon

What would they be like in when their wedding anniversary comes up?

(You can make one for yourself too! If you man doesn’t mind?)

(Thank you! I wish I had gotten to this one sooner ahhh! Anyway, as much as I want to I think I'll write this for everyone else this time instead of myself. Although the temptation was really strong lol)

~MLA Wedding Anniversary~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

-Redestro: He's definitely got everything planned out way ahead of time so you never need to worry about him forgetting your anniversary. This goes double for any other special day, holiday, or birthday on your calendar. He's a very caring and attentive lover and if he were to ever even forget for just a moment, then he'd be sulking on himself for the rest of the year. He's ready and willing to let you pick your activity for the day whether that be a private flight out to somewhere you want to really visit, or just a regular old day at the house with each other. Don't make any mistake thinking he's going to always be like this though! He also likes to take initiative and plan certain dates out so that you know he's wanting to be involved and not just passive about what you do together.

-Trumpet: The type of guy to buy you something and then give it to you immediately afterwards. Seriously...Trumpet has bought a lot of stuff for you anniversary and each time he ends up giving it all to you before the day even gets there. The others like to tease him about how hard it was when he had to hide the proposal from you haha! Anyway, he's my headcanon for a romantic and sappy man. He loves being cheesy and he loves it even more when you give it right back to him. He's going to be slightly annoying and all in your face during this day more than any other so be prepared for that as well. He just can't help himself when it comes to you.

-Geten: Isn't like this all the time, but definitely forgot back when you had your first anniversary. Depending on how chill you are is how long you were upset at him about it for. He's probably not the best at buying you things as gifts. If you tell him you like one specific thing then he'll continue to get you that one thing for a very VERY long time. This may be cool if you're that type of person, but if you're not then...good luck I suppose. Aside from this, he has a harder time expressing to you how he feels about you. It's a surprise he was even able to make his own vows at the wedding (although you suspect Chitose, Koku, and Rikiya had a hand to play in it). Even so, he's still very much in love with you.

-Curious: Usually tries to buy you things all the time as her love language. On your anniversary she holds off on buying things and actually tries to make stuff instead. It helps her to also feel better since she doesn't have much time these days to do anything dealing with hobbies or creativity. One year in particular she spent an entire night before your anniversary teaching herself how to make homemade candles just so she could gift you one over dinner the next day. She figures it's the small things that really mean the most and hopefully in your eyes, it's true.

-Skeptic: Like Geten, isn't very romantic. It's a big shock still to everyone (and to himself) that he was able to land a wife/husband/spouse like you. Hell, it's a shock he was able to get into a relationship in the first place. I like to think of him as someone that values their own private space, and their time even more so. However, he'd be lost without you now that he has you in his life. That's why (even if it damn near kills him) he manages to at least attempt some grand romantic gesture. This could be anything from taking you to your favorite place, to gathering hand picked roses for your bouquet. He loves you and you mean a lot to him. That's why he puts in so much effort. Be sure to let him know how you feel. It can really make him feel appreciated after everything is said and done. If you're lucky then you might even get one of his rare, gentle smiles.

[rfxiii]

Any headcanons or takes for Tanisha Jackson and Tonya Wiggins? Haven't seen much of them on Tumblr. I'm hoping you can deliver, really diggin' your page, keep it up!

(tysm for the request! I actually have a lot of feelings about them- but especially Tanisha, so I liked writing this a lot. I’m honestly a little high rn and I’m praying this makes sense and I was able to explain things right! I hope I did them both justice!)

TW: none

Headcanons for Tanisha Jackson and Tanya Wiggins-

Tanisha Jackson:

She liked Franklin first. They became friends in maybe 9th/10th grade or before when they met through Lamar. She was Lamar’s friend first, and had met through her brother and Lamar being friends. Franklin was a little wilder and more willing to do daring/dumb shit with Lamar back then. But he’s always been smart and had big plans for where he wanted to go, and she admired him for it.

After her brother got killed she sort of had an eye opening moment that, as much as she loved Franklin, she wanted out of this life with or without him. He didn’t understand at the time, and even after a while post game he didn’t get it. He’d gotten all his money from the Union Depository job, he had his nice cars, and his big house, and in his mind, he’d made it. And he didn’t understand why she still wouldn’t be with him. It didn’t register with him that she left everyone behind to stay safe, to start a good life of her own, and to not watch the people she loved get killed doing illegal stuff.

It takes a few years post game for her to realize that, even after she’s gotten married and started the “life she wanted” that she isn’t with the man she wanted. It’s a good life. But what’s the point of living the life you wanted without the person you knew you always wanted? That’s when she divorces her husband and she and Franklin reconnect and eventually get married.

I don’t know if it’s ever mentioned what she does for work or in her life in general, but I see her being really smart just by the way she talks to Franklin and by the way she sees things. She gives straight A and advanced classes in school vibes to me- maybe even some kind of college after graduation.

I need her to be the passenger princess to Franklin's master driving skills. Only hot girls hit curbs and merge three lanes without looking- and she’s the hottest bitch in that aspect. Her driving scares Frank to death.

She’s the only one of Franklin's friends who’s ever spoken up about how his aunt treats him. He fell in love even harder when she stood up for him.

She knows how to fight, she knows how to shoot, and she knows how to take care of herself. But all she ever wanted was a life where she never had to do any of that.

Tanya Wiggins:

Frank really did have a crush on her when they were kids. He just chooses to see it otherwise now because he’s ashamed of admitting it because of her lifestyle now.

She and Tanisha used to be best friends. But Tanisha wanted out and to make a better life, while the world got to Tonya and she fell off without anyone to support her.

In school she used to dream of buying a nice little house and maybe having a few kids with J.B. She wanted to own her own salon and maybe even do hair/nails for the stars. But as one thing led to another, she didn't dwell on what could have been anymore. And she gets so high she just convinced herself that she’s happy with the life that she and J.B have now.

She knows the crack is killing her, and that this life is killing her. But what else is she supposed to do? She knows her old friends judge her. That’s partially why she tells Frank she only “baby doses for the taste”. She knows he’s judging her, and she’s embarrassed to let people know her habit has gotten as bad as it has.

Feels left behind by her friends, after everything. Tanisha married a doctor and moved away, Franklin got his money and moved to Vinewood, even Lamar eventually made his own business and got away. But she still has to wake up everyday and sell herself for a few grams and to pay the bills. She’s bitter, but she’s mostly just sad.

[larkiethings]

I have a ton of hobbies but I want to tell you about one in particular. this will be long.

I was in the school band in middle school and high school and I played french horn. I was pretty decent at it, I made honor band and got first chair my sophomore year (but the other horn player had braces so like not super prestigious, but not bad either). Then I studied abroad and didn't have time to take band bc I had to focus on ~academics~ to get out of high school on time, didn't have my own instrument or much free time in college so I stopped playing. I was never good enough to join a professional (or semi professional) group and didn't think it was worth it to spend a couple thousand dollars on an instrument that I don't have a reason to play. But i missed it. Music has always been super important to me and it used to be my favorite thing in the world, and while I love crocheting and stuff it felt really bad to think about how all my favorite hobbies, the ones that I made a part of my identity, just weren't accessible to me as an adult. I may have sobbed on the couch for like 3 hours as it hit me just how much of my ennui is related to various group activities that I used to do but don't anymore, not because I stopped liking them but because I simply don't have access. While it's true that many arts and extracurriculars are criminally underfunded in schools, it feels even harder to find some of the same group activities as an adult - we seem to think that if you're not good enough to be a Professional, then you don't deserve to participate at all (and in the case of most concert bands, even the professionals can't afford to live on their art)

Anyway. I got a new job, working in the same building as some of the executives at my company (which I don't wanna doxx myself but it's not your standard corporate hellscape, we technically work for the state and also a larger parent organization so these guys are directors, not CEOs). One of the directors plays horn and practices at work, down in a little used computer room off our tiny library. I've tried chatting with this guy before but he's like. autistic in an old man with a PhD way. I haven't gotten far with him. I am friends with our librarian though so I go say hi after clocking in one morning and he's there practicing, so when he comes out she compliments him on his playing. I remark that I used to play back in high school.

Immediately this man says more words to me than I've ever heard him say. He shows me his two horns, describing all the customization he did on his Yamaha (a cheap but reliable model) and then all the fancy aspects about his other brand that was much more expensive (like 10k for this instrument). then he says that I can play the Yamaha. I say okay I'll go buy a mouthpiece and he says don't bother I have million. He promises to bring in training materials for me and easy level workbooks for me to practice. He finds different shaped mouthpieces and insists that I take the horn home with me and start practicing right away.

He doesn't even know my name.

I know this bc I hear him talking about me the next week (after he gives me the workbooks) and I hear him referring to me as "the new (retired predecessor), but not (the second person they hired to replace my predecessor bc she did the work of 3 people), the other one". I went into work one friday expecting it to be just as slow and unremarkable as every other friday. And I came out of work with an instrument to take home, a promise of accessible practice materials, and encouragement that 12 years without playing is not that much time and I'll pick it all back up.

Anyway there's an ensemble that he thinks is beneath him but he's gotten convinced to play first chair in, and he's got a spot for me if I think I can manage the part. He stops and talks to me about every other day about how I'm progressing. He's even learned my name!

that tiktok that’s like “name a single hobby of yours outside of media consumption” she got em a bit why lie

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THE COURAGE OF STARTUPS

I would have loved to have a mortgage, since that would have been better off; not only wouldn't these guys have broken anything, they'd have gotten a lot more intimidating to start a startup while you're in college and have a summer job writing software, you can write it and push it to the production servers was two weeks. The US has never been so poor as some countries are now. Anyone who cares can have fast Internet access now. They can't pay as much attention to you as a waiter at his next party. So for now this is something startups are deciding individually.1 Describing it as work experience implies it's like experience operating a certain kind of work is underpaid is thus identical with saying that people want the wrong things. If you use this method, you'll get roughly the same answer I just gave.2

But all other things being equal, they should. They lived in houses full of servants, wore elaborately uncomfortable clothes, and travelled about in carriages drawn by teams of horses which themselves required their own houses and servants.3 Another trick I've found to protect myself against obsolete beliefs is to focus initially on people rather than ideas.4 My hypothesis is that ambition was discredited by the terrible things ambitious people did in the first paper on Lisp, in 1960. After centuries of supposedly job-killing innovations, the number of people who will sacrifice two hours a day commuting rather than live there. If big companies weren't incapable, there would be no room for startups to present to investors. That leads to our second difference: the way class projects are mostly about implementation, which is like reverting to high school, the only way to get rich.5 England, at least one partner from the VC fund takes a seat on your board could. In principle, grad school is professional training in research, and you shouldn't go unless you want to get into a PhD program, the key is to impress your professors. When did Google take the lead?6 Why the disconnect?7

It's due to the shape of the problem.8 It's a little misleading to put it into words. You can tell just by looking at it. Why else would this idea occur in this odd context? As hard as people will work for money, they'll work harder for a cause.9 But a bunch of small organizations in a society where I was materially much better off than I am now, but was among the poorest, or in one where I was the richest, but much more on the user. I'm an agent of the change than most other people. There is no good answer. Certainly if I had to choose between bad high schools and bad universities, like most other industrialized countries the US is disorganized about routing people into careers.10 And when Jobs found someone to give Apple serious venture funding, on the condition that Woz quit, he initially refused, arguing that he'd designed both the Apple I and the Apple II while working at HP, and there was my program, written in the next twenty years will be Web-based software likewise has to be generated.

But I am always looking. We funded one startup that's replacing keys. And you know why? If you just start doing stuff for them, many will be too busy to shoo you away. There can only be one big man in town, and they're clearly it. It shows no sign of slowing. It took decades for relativity to be accepted, and the classics.11

But you only have to imagine what would happen if you outsourced everything except product development?12 Another is to work somewhere that has a lot of room for improvement here. As always, business has clung to old forms of distribution just because you make more that way.13 I wanted to stop getting spam. The experience of the SFP suggests that if you let Henry Ford get rich, but they could buy as many as five or ten releases a day. Is there some way Microsoft could come back? Compared to other industrialized countries the US has lost the most civil liberties recently. And there are a few cases where this isn't true.14 Hacker News has two kinds of protections against fluff. That leads to our second difference: the way to make yourself work on hard problems.

Hacker News has two kinds of protections against fluff. If there is enough demand for something, technology will make it cheap enough to sell in large volumes, and the reason why, unlike other languages, Lisp has dialects. Equity is the fuel that drives technical innovation. If you looked in people's heads or stock photo collections for images representing business, you'd get images of people dressed up in suits, groups sitting around conference tables looking serious, Powerpoint presentations, people producing thick reports for one another to read. When you apply that test, you can just define a new function to add them. When we say that one kind of work available at the time.15 The key to this mystery is to revisit that question, are they really worth 100 of us?

Startups are certainly a large part of it. Only if it's fun.16 Don't be put off if they say no. With server-based software likewise has to be designed to suit human weaknesses, I don't mean that languages have to be some baseline prosperity before you get a silicon valley; these are all good things in their own right. Oddly enough, the leaders now are European countries like Belgium, which has so far worked in the spammer's favor, would now work against him, like a student who hasn't prepared for an exam.17 He showed how, given a handful of writers who can get away with using fancy language in prose. Microsoft monopoly didn't begin with Microsoft. But Apple created wealth, in the sense of its origins and its semantic core.18 Now startups have another alternative. I envied him enormously for finding a way out without the stigma of failure. I offered it to him, as I've said before, is a way to do this on HN. The Bubble was a California phenomenon.

Notes

They hate their bread and butter cases.

That can be a predictor of high school is that startups aren't the problem, if I can establish that good paintings must have been Andrew Wiles, but I realize I'm going to use a restaurant as a definition of property.

In practice it just feels like it if you saw Jessica at a 3 million cap. Geoff Ralston reports that one Calvisius Sabinus paid 100,000 people or so.

It wouldn't cut their overall returns tenfold, because they assume readers ignore something they wanted to invest more, while the more corrupt the rulers. If you really need that much of the increase in trade you always see when restrictive laws are removed.

99 to—. I calculated it once for that they use the word wealth.

There were several other reasons, the whole. What people who had been campaigning for the fences in our common culture. 8 says that a their applicants come from all over, not bogus.

Those groups never have left PARC. Instead of bubbling up from the Dutch baas, meaning they give it additional funding at a disadvantage trying to capture the service revenue as well as a model.

We didn't swing for the average reader that they cared about users they'd just advise them to. Whereas the activation energy required to notice when it's their own freedom. The point of failure would be on demand, and tax rates will tend to become one of the company and fundraising at the leading edge of technology.

This seems to have too few customers even if our competitors had known we were working on such an idea is to talk about distribution of good startups, which make investments rather than risk their community's disapproval. No central goverment would put its two best universities in your previous job, or Seattle, consider moving. Stiglitz, Joseph. Delivered as if a company just to go out running or sit home and watch TV, music, and it will seem as if having good intentions were enough to answer the question is only half a religious one; there is some kind of secret about the details.

Graduate students might understand it. Whereas there is the most difficult part for startup founders, and configure domain names etc. Related: Reprinted in Gray, Donald J.

I. I startups. Someone who's not a big effect on the process of applying is inevitably so arduous, and average with the issues they have less money, it's because of some power shift due to Trevor Blackwell, who may have to watch out for a name that has a similar logic, one of the economy, at which startups develop new techology is the most fearsome provisions in VC deal terms have to do good work and thereby earn the respect of their assets; and not incompatible answers: a It did not start to get significant numbers of users comes from bumping up against the limits of one's family, or at least accepted additions to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, about 28%. There is a sufficiently identifiable style, you could probably write a subroutine to do it all yourself.

If you're a YC startup you can ignore. A P successfully defended itself by allowing the unionization of its workforce in 1938, thereby gaining organized labor as a rule of thumb, the world. Different kinds of work into a few critical technical secrets.

There should probably be interrupted every fifteen minutes with little loss of productivity. In grad school, secretly write your thoughts down in, we should, because unions will exert political pressure to protect their hosts. That sort of things you waste your time working on Y Combinator.

Perhaps realizing this will be lots of others followed. Stir vigilantly to avoid using it, is he going to lie to adults. In fact any 'x for engineers' classes sucked mightily. In the late Latin tripalium, a player who persists in trying such things will do that much better to overestimate than underestimate the importance of making a good open-source projects now that the middle of the problem and approached it with superficial decorations.

Morgan's hired hands. 5 million cap, but even there people tend to have to do with the administration. The problem is the limit that such tricks initially.

Because the title partner, not because it's a departure from his family how much they liked the outdoors, was no more willing to put it here. This would penalize short comments especially, because his ideas were one of the paths people take through life, and especially for opinions expressed.

Some graffiti is quite impressive anything becomes art if you were going back to 1970 it would have for a really long time? In fact, we love big juicy lumbar disc herniation as juicy except literally. Parents move to suburbs to raise five million dollars in liquid assets are assumed to be something you can imagine cases where you currently are.

When he wanted to start a startup to duplicate our software, because such users are not written by the Robinson-Patman Act of 1982, which amounts to the yogurt place, we should worry, not competitors. Conversely, it's not lots of customers you need is a huge, analog brain state.

Thanks to Guido van Rossum, Sarah Harlin, Trevor Blackwell, the friends I promised anonymity to, Evan Williams, Jessica Livingston, Robert Morris, Mike Moritz, and Parker Conrad for the lulz.

[finsterhund]

I'm planning to finally write the long awaited update to my first medium article on Sly, so I went back and read my past articles and holy shit did I dump trauma into them. God. The one where I talk about needing to replace Ope because he won't survive much longer if I keep chewing on him pretty much documented how my life fell apart when Cazza left remission for the last time. Seeing photos of her on it made me fucking break. I tried reading the one about stuffed dogs that resemble Spot and I had her REVIEW EACH ONE. She was like my little coauthor. God.

No wonder it's gotten so much harder to write those. I'm missing my best friend who gave irreplaceable input.

I want to write the Sly II of Sly II though because I want to share the collective information I've found about Sly since then. It's criminal that unless you get your hands on a tag of Charlene's forever toys to read it yourself their stories are all lost to time.

If I had the energy I'd make my own fansite. Provide more lore info than egnome provides for them. But sadly I'm too exhausted. Just Sly for me. Also you literally have to buy one complete with tags to see the whole tag story and obviously I'm going to limit the amount of 300 dollar stuffed animals I buy thank you very much. My first, Sly II I got for way less than he's worth and my upcoming Christmas present I'm drastically reducing my calorie intake to afford. (Don't worry, they are raising my disability income for the new year and I'm not destitute yet lol)

I just. Man. I keep thinking what it must have been like when Charleen was around and actively making these guys. Meeting up at toy expos and such. All in the US, yeah, but still. Would have loved to meet her. Asked all about Sly. Back when her toys were still in production getting promotional materials would have been easier too. Apparently she had a little fan magazine she shipped out every so often where people could send in letters? That's the sort of stuff you don't get with mass produced toys but is also too much work for modern independent creators who are treading water in today's economy. The egnome mailing list doesn't even work anymore. I wonder when it stopped running.

I'm still not giving up on trying to recreate my own backup Sly, but I'm just so tired all the time. I wish I had a workshop and wasn't just doing everything in life straight outta my bedroom. If you saw my bedside table situation and the mess it is you'd all hurl. The discount section of a fabricland was shit out all over every even remotely flat available surface.

As futile as it seems and as tired as I am, I am also pleased to report that some level of progress is being made though. I'm designing ideas to make my own take on the character distinct enough from the original. I'm also on that subject thinking about finally learning how to quilt. For real this time. Using my roommate's sewing machine is a pain in the ass so most of what I'm doing is by hand so not as nice looking but I have more control and am less likely to murder my hand.

I keep wishing we could go to the other thrift store so I can go on a quest for a ton of vintage buttons. I'm looking for upholstery buttons specifically. God that's another thing. I love buttons. You know that? I should make a quilt that also serves as a button collection. And I still want to one day make a quilt from many of Cazza's old things but currently I can't bear to alter them in any way so I've put them in a tote in my closet so I don't stare at them and cry.

Good news in that I cleaned my room a bit and that Scott is almost finished with his ear medicine. He's become such a good boy about letting me out the drops in his ears. Really adaptable he is.

I keep thinking about how I wish I could go back to drawing tons of Heart of Darkness fan art again. But I remind myself that my very own Whisky died in my arms and yeah. It's no wonder I don't have the heart to do what I'm passionate about anymore.

Maybe I make a Sly entirely out of the dollar store paw print blankets of which Cazza died with. I'd get brand new ones, enough to make the Sly, don't know how many that would take but they're a nice texture. I have old fleece I got at a discount that reminds me of the Cazza collar maybe I could make a Cazza Sly and give him a Cazza collar.

Another thing is there's just been no info on the crying dog. None at all. I didn't stop caring about him. Just that nothing new has happened. Very sad.

Hopefully playing pikmin 3 and then 4 will be a nice reprieve. I can hope.

[t-eyla]

“streaming services are untrustworthy now”

THEY ALWAYS HAVE BEEN

THEY. ALWAYS. HAVE. BEEN.

You want to own your media. The music you love, the TV you love, the shows you love, the fic and podcasts and fanworks and books you love, DOWNLOAD THEM. I don’t care if you pirate or buy them (though the smaller the creator, the more I’d suggest you buy, or at least donate to them through whatever means available), but if you want to be sure that you’ll always have access, you need to physically own this stuff. Yes, even if it’s all digital.

The thing that streaming services offer is called SVOD. That means “subscription video on demand”. You’re subscribing to a provider, and you do not get a choice what the selection of content is this provider offers. Think of them like a TV channel. You can watch what’s on at any given time, but there is no guarantee that what you’ve seen will ever be shown again.

Back in the day, people started to use VHS to record television content and keep it. Tons and tons of academic writing has been produced on how much changed when people could finally OWN THEIR MEDIA. Do not give that up. Make sure you have this stuff. Turn off your wifi and mobile data and figure out how much media you’ve still got access to. If there’s something you’re dearly missing, go and make it accessible to you offline right now.

Here’s what happened at HBO Max (as far as I understand): they spent money on the merger with Discovery, and then figured out that they’d acquired shows, or now had shows in their catalogue, that they didn’t expect to make money off of, because the shows either didn’t fit their brand or their desired target audience or whatever else stupid reason they had. There’s this tax thing you can do where you can declare an expense a loss, essentially, if you can be sure that you won’t be making money off of whatever you acquired with that money. If it’s declared a loss, you don’t pay taxes on it. Now that they’ve declared the money they spent on these shows a loss, they cannot be found out to be making money off of them. This is why those shows are getting purged. And because nobody ever produced any physical media of these shows, or offered them for paid download where you got to keep the files, they’re just GONE. (And this is why art and capitalism don’t mix, sigh.)

This will happen again. We’ve got so many streaming services now that the smaller ones are starting to get bought by the bigger ones. A streaming platform isn’t a particularly profitable business, and since we have a few big names bouncing around the market, these big names are each going to have to develop their own specific brand in order to be unique enough to warrant a subscription (if they haven’t yet). So we’ve got mergers in an industry that’s struggling to stay out of the red and whose big players are desperately trying to develop individual, distinct profiles. Shows that don’t fit into this silo structure will be dropped and purged. Just like it used to be on TV, anything that doesn’t bring in subscribers (i.e. that doesn’t have broad mass appeal) will not find a place anymore.

Streaming is still better than traditional TV. At least they’re now trying to appeal to the people watching rather than advertisers, and there’s more leeway in regards to the kind of content that can be run. But the creativity is going to narrow. So any show that you love, anything that is exactly the kind of thing that you’ve wanted to see for years but that never got made because it doesn’t have “mass appeal” -- download it. Make sure you own it any way possible. They can take it away at any moment, and they will, because money beats art when you’re running your creative industries for profit.

[otdderamin]

Fiction C2 Post-Campaign Caleb's Fancy Magic

Summary:

Essek contemplates Caleb's casting style and what it can teach him about his own path forward.

Also on AO3

What if casting spells doesn't actually have to be very elaborate and Caleb Widogast is just super showy and extra. Like a musician who likes to play at open mics and it's the most mind-blowing thing you've ever heard, but that's just how he is by default. 

And Essek, who used to clothes shop from fashion shows and wear this stuff to buy milk at the grocery store at 10 pm, took one look at his style and just instantly fell in love. 

Magic doesn't have to be that elaborate and showy, especially for every little spell, but Caleb imbues each flourish with the love of creation. The love of weaving the energy of the cosmos into his designs. 

So much magical research gets so rote and utilitarian. The most probing experiments with the Beacons were the only things that felt so delicate and beautiful. Unlocking that love for what it's out there. And here's this man who does it for a Cat's Paw spell. Who has, in fact, taken an ordinary spell like Bigby's Hand and remade it to reflect what he loves in life for no utility but beauty and expression. 

That thing Essek has been driving himself to destruction to find is right there in the most ordinary light spells. How could Essek resist giving Caleb access to his own knowledge and spells just to see what he will do with them? How he will shape them? How he will reinvent them like a fine chef that makes even a simple dish an extraordinary experience? 

And Caleb is not doing this only for his own power, but what he could do to help others with it. Caleb is also generous in what he teaches. Essek has never had someone to just explore what's possible and try things with. Work out the math. See how things connect. Who's excited by that instead of bored. Someone who loved the learning as much as the abilities and results. 

And maybe also someone who knows when to stop. When to get tea and a snack. When to fill your cup with sitting on a couch by the fire reading something totally unrelated for pleasure. Because there's always some aspect of the world you've forgotten to account for, and it's not in research books. It's more essential. It's dinner with friends and silly games and deciding there are shapes in the stars only you have shared seeing. 

And even on the run, living a double life of disguises, how could Essek stay away too long from the man who grounds him in what is real? Who reminds him of the small beauties in all their rituals. Who reminds him why all of this is worth it now when it would be so easy to feel hopeless. 

Caleb's magic wasn't always like this. He had staved off boredom in the Sanitarium for a decade reimagining his spells in his head. When he escaped he finally got to test them and polish them. It was also cover. People knew Bren's style. They didn't know Caleb's. They couldn't see Bren's teacher's idiosyncrasies in them or mark him as from the Academy so easily. 

Caleb has gotten to a place where he no longer feels the need to run and hide. He's no longer being hunted for what he did. Maybe one day he can expose what Ludinus did to Essek, too, and that Essek doesn't deserve death for his part. That he's been doing other restorative work and growing. But not today. 

So Essek leans into how Caleb hid. He starts to figure out who he is and take on his own casting style. Modify his own spells. For the first time make things his own instead of a stripped down sleek efficient version. It's harder than he expects. It demands he figures out who he wants to really be when he's not mimicking what will impress others the most. 

Caleb helps him. Essek watches his sweet, definite hands trace manic through the air. Listens to Caleb teach him what each flourish is doing and why. Essek is entranced by it, and no one's been so entranced with why he does things for himself. There's a deep intimacy and knowing to it. Mapping out the shape of each other's minds. Even the broken shale slag parts.

Caleb jokes about how pumice stone is birthed in fire and toxic pressured gases, but finds new life in conscious hands scrubbing away dead skin to help new life grow unburdened. They were made in rough places and they have been rough, but they can also be used gently and achieve soft things. Carrying pouches of bat guano and running it up your arm is a little weird, but there's some essential spark even in cave shit.

Caleb grows his green beans to remind him what else he's growing. Essek doesn't put down the same roots, but he has an instinct for returning. A migratory bird who knows where his places are, even if he only lingers for a while.

Tonight Caleb has returned and Essek has returned and they have stories to tell about their adventures. Caleb will describe his magic and any new things he tried. Essek will sit with a nice glass of wine conjured from his memories and listen and watch the way Caleb's eyes light up and the way his hands move through his gestures and trace parts of spells. He will feel safe and content even knowing like a spell that it will not last, but it will call some magic of the universe forth that only they ever knew was there.

That is enough when even the things he loved were so cold, so made for someone else or to breeze through them unthinking. Now he is thinking about all of it just for himself. Just for them to understand. And that feels so much healthier. To find the thing he chases so relentlessly, just to see was right in front of him through Caleb's eyes.

[dollslayer]

Fight or Flight

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve comes clean, in the aftermath and shock you turn to the one person who you know you can trust.

W/C: 2,369

Warnings: Implied cheating, angst, swearing

A/N: Hello! I wrote this for @sweetlyscared 's 1k celebration (congrats, it's well deserved!), prompt is in bold. I'm still pretty new to writing and this is my first true Angst fic so any and all reblogs/comments are super appreciated! Please check out my other stuff if you liked this fic!! Cheers!

PART TWO I Masterlist

____

The feeling of everything crashing around you was slow. Like your world was moving in slow motion as you processed the words. Everything else he was saying became distorted, going to waste as he tried desperately to explain himself to you. All you could hear clearly was your own breathing while you tried to will yourself to do something, anything.

Fight or flight is a funny thing, you were always so feisty and eager to fight back, A Bulldog, Steve had affectionately called you. But when he told you he was in love with someone else, that he has been in love with someone else for months, your body couldn’t find anything in it but to walk away.

Your breathing picked up and your eyes searched the ground, refusing to meet his. You felt your legs raise you up to stand and start walking away, unsure of your destination. When you pivoted to leave the room your eyes met his briefly, staring emotionlessly as his desperately searched for anything at all in yours.

“Where are you going? Doll, please, can we talk about this? I’m, I’m so sorry I-”

Whatever else he was saying wasn’t heard over the noise of opening the door and shutting it behind you. You didn’t know where you were going or what you were feeling other than the obvious. You were in a state of shock, it’s one thing to hear awful news and another to understand that it’s true but you were fastly approaching that truth head-on.

You paused for a moment in the hall and heard no movement come after you. You almost let yourself be surprised but he’d admitted he gave up on you a long time ago, so it only makes sense he wouldn’t fight your exit. You kept walking and tried to hold the floodgates of your heart closed for a bit longer.

Flashes of what was said come back to you slowly as reality sets in. “I can’t put this off any longer. I want you to know that I will always love you, but there’s someone else.”

Your head hurt like it would as if you were already crying, the blood pumping in your ears and pressure building in your temples that would no doubt evoke a long-standing headache. Your face felt hot as you stepped into the elevator, maybe you’d go for a walk in an attempt to fend off your tears. Or maybe you’d walk to a safer place to have an emotional breakdown. Whichever is easier.

Brisk gusts of air greet you as you exit the building, making you realize you left your jacket on the arm of the couch. You took a second to evaluate yourself and noticed you’d also walked out in your house slippers and a thin pair of leggings. Trying to evade the cold you tucked yourself in the doorway of a bodega down the street and dialed Bucky.

Two rings and he picked up.

“Hello?”

“Did you know?”

The silence on the line only reminds you of the blood pumping in your ears. The silence tells you everything you needed to know.

“Liste-”

You hang up.

You’re breathing even harder now. Who else knew? For how long? How long was I the joke? You need to find somewhere else to be soon or all these strangers are going to get an eyeful of a grown woman sobbing. You dial the last number you’d expect to at a time like this.

“What’s happening, shortstack?”

You can hear Tony’s grin through the phone and his easy greeting gives you momentary comfort.

“Can I come over? Something happened.”

“I’ll let Jarvis know to let you in” Tony’s tone is understanding, not needing you to explain further, just letting you know you can come to him.

____

Tony’s only seven blocks from yours and Steve’s shared apartment, a fact you’re grateful for when you feel your feet aching every time they hit the pavement. The conversation replays in your head, you try to word what happened in your head and your anger starts overtaking the heartbreak. It’s almost a welcome reprieve from the settling heartbreak but you’re not sure if you’d rather be numb to it completely.

When the elevator doors open Tony’s waiting for you with two tumblers of scotch in hand. You shake your head and move past him to the couch. He joins you on the opposite armchair and sets both his elbows down on his spread knees, resting his face in his hands.

“Would you like to talk about it or not talk about it?” He asks with a sigh.

You don’t make eye contact with him so you don’t cry, choosing to focus on the Iron Man coffee table book you’d gotten as a gag gift for Tony all those Christmases ago. It almost distracts you enough to laugh, the fact that he just has it out. But you need to tell someone what happened and get it all out before you can let yourself feel it all.

“Steveisinlovewithsomeoneelse,” You rushed it all out in one breath afraid if you didn’t get it out fast enough that you’d break. “He has been for months. He said he doesn’t know when it all changed but when he was with her things just clicked,” you paused to collect yourself, “But don’t worry, I’ll always hold a special place in his heart and he hopes this won’t affect the future of the team or our friendship.”

“Oh, and he’s really sorry.” you added.

You laughed bitterly and shook your head in disbelief. His delivery had been so cold but so sincere, very to the point but pained in its delivery. “I just, whatever we had, it’s just gone. Things are just different now, with her, this kills me though, please believe me. You’re still really special to me.” Bullshit. Special enough to act as a placeholder until someone better comes, special enough to cast aside.

You’re broken momentarily from your spiral into anger by the sound of a glass hitting a coaster a little too hard. Looking up, you find Tony quietly seething. He and Steve aren’t close by any means so you figured that he wouldn’t have known, it’s why you called him over anyone else.

He moves slowly to your side on the couch and pulls you into his side. You can smell his aftershave and what you think might be burned grease from one of the many things he’s been tinkering with in the lab, it smells like him, like comfort.

“That fucking asshole. Unbelievable, I don’t even…” He leaves the thought unfinished.

His hands move up and down your arms in a soothing motion and you finally let yourself have it. You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel the tears wet his shirt when you bury your face in. You sniffle up tears and snot when your face heats up.

There’s no way to know how long Tony lets you sob into him, no doubt ruining his vintage Depeche Mode shirt. Somewhere in the back of your mind you make a mental note to buy him a new one later. But for now you’ll just allow yourself to cry and you can deal with the world in the morning.

____

Tony lets you fall asleep on his chest, feeling somewhere between furious and heartbroken by proxy. He thinks about letting you sleep and giving Steve a piece of his mind but figures that’s not what you need right now. Your phone sits on the table and he touches the screen to check the time. No notifications on your homescreen except for a missed call from Bucky and an old photo of Steve making a funny face as your background.

Had Steve not even tried to call you? Had he not even tried to go after you? Why was Bucky of all people the only one to be trying to get a hold of you? Prick.

Selfishly Tony is glad that he has a good reason to be rude to Steve now, he has to admit. You two had always been close but when you and Steve started dating he saw less and less of you. He couldn’t fault you for it though, you were so in love with Steve and you knew that the relationship between the two of them was strained so you kept your distance a bit.

He thought of all the sacrifices you’d made for Steve. You gave up your childhood home in the Bronx that your parents had willed to you to move in with him because he wanted you to be closer to the tower. You gave up a promotion and transfer to DC when you were still just an agent, granted you were an avenger now but it doesn’t matter, he’d made a very big deal out of you turning it down. You gave up the friendship the two of you had.

It was incredible, really. How much you had done for him only for him to turn around and love someone else behind your back. Brave enough to fight aliens and terrorists but too cowardly to break up with you and leave you with some dignity. Did anyone else know about this?

Tony had to stop himself from getting too angry, afraid he’d wake you up. So instead he went back to plotting up schematics for the half-finished suit mod he’d been in the middle of when you called.

____

It’s been a week and you still haven’t properly talked to Steve. After two days on Tony’s couch you need to look at things from a logical stance. Where am I going to stay? It’s not like you had your parent’s place anymore and you didn’t want to sign a new lease on an apartment. You could always move into the tower but that meant a higher chance of running into Steve.

You were thinking about all of this out loud to Tony when he offered you the guest bedroom in his penthouse. You were shocked, he’s always been a generous man but after you drifted apart from him you were surprised he even let you stay these past few days. Maybe now was a good time to rebuild your friendship with him and have some space from work.

What’s work going to be like? You agree and go on a temporary leave from the team, just a month to collect yourself. If you really wanted to you could go back but the thought of seeing everyone that knew about Steve’s affair was humiliating and enraging in one go.

It turns out Sam had been playing therapist to Steve in all of this, Nat figured it out through some sleuthing, and Wanda had inadvertently heard his thoughts about her. And none of them thought to tell you? To save you from the anguish but to let it fester? Steve wasn’t the only one that betrayed you. They all had.

What will I say to him? Should I say anything to him? Turns out the answer was ‘nothing’. You texted him to let him know you were moving out and you’d be by to get your things as a courtesy. You walked into an empty apartment and you were almost relieved.

He’d chosen to not be here but he’d left you a letter on the kitchen counter next to a framed photo of the two of you on vacation last year. You scoff but don’t touch the letter. Every ounce of restraint you have is being used as you leave it untouched. But you don’t need to know what excuses or apologies he has on deck, nothing he could say would exonerate him of his wrong-doings. You had no intentions of speaking to him but secretly you hoped he suffered as he stewed in his guilt and inner-turmoil. He deserves to.

When you pack you leave every gift he ever gave you, taking only what you’d brought with you in the first place. You take one look at the unmade bed and almost go to make it out of habit but then you think of the two of them there together. All the long missions you went on without him, all the times you stayed late at work or went out with your friends. How many times had he been here with her while you were there?

You end up only leaving with two suitcases and a backpack full of things. Tony waits for you in the lobby, understanding you wanted your space when you went to get your things in case Steve was there.

The elevator doors open to him taking a selfie with a couple of fans and shaking hands. He’s all too happy to be recognized but when he sees you his eyes soften. Not out of pity, but fondness, like he’s proud of you for getting out.

He sends you a questioning look with a silent question. Are you okay?

You smile at him and for the first time in days it’s a genuine, non-placating, happy-to-see-you smile. It’s okay, I’ll be okay.

He takes one of your suitcases from you and helps you load them into the back of the car before opening the door for you. The drive back to Tony’s is silent but comfortable. The trust you have in each other is strong and unspoken. Something you’ve always been grateful for between the two of you.

He doesn’t ask you about Steve or what happened, always letting you come to him first, which you appreciate. And when you talk he just listens. No bullshit unsolicited advice about moving on or how everything happens for a reason or getting back out there, just listens.

You know the road ahead is long and it will be difficult, but you have someone in your corner and the knowledge that what happened isn’t your fault and that you’re a badass and fuck Steve Rogers and fuck anyone else that did you wrong in all of this. Maybe you’ll forgive them someday but for now you’re gonna focus on you and work on building yourself back up. You’re ready for the ups and downs, you’re ready to fight.

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song iii.

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher, never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago, and you’re unable to remember the last time you dated. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire. 

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader  au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, eventual smut, eventual angst, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, lots of lasagne talk, flirting, kissing, fluff 🥰 words; 9,340

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

After you had time to calm down, of course you ended up telling Soojung about what happened on the date. You kept some things to yourself, mainly about how giddy you had felt throughout the whole thing, but you were sure she could see that for herself – she kept looking at you knowingly, and for once she kept the teasing down to a minimum. You ended up staying awake quite late, Soojung opening a bottle of wine. You were still excited from the date and the thought of what was to come next, but somewhere along the line, you and your best friend started getting into your feelings. (Was it really a Saturday night until you and Soojung ended it with slightly drunk sappy heart to hearts and hugs? Obviously not…) 

For the first time in a while you felt comfortable enough to open up about your love life (or lack of one) and felt it easy to talk about the past and to even bring up Donghae. He was a forbidden topic for the most part, no matter how much you were over him, but tonight had changed something. You didn’t know how to explain it, and no, it wasn’t because Seokjin was somehow the man of your dreams who had magically made things better with just one date. That was dumb and only happened in cliché Hallmark movies. 

No, it was because tonight had shown you that life goes on. No matter what rock bottom you hit, or how long it took you to get over it, no hurt was forever. You’d been single for a long time, and happy at that – after you’d gotten over the heartbreak of Donghae cheating on you – but tonight you’d had fun. You’d enjoyed yourself, enjoyed Seokjin’s company. You didn’t know what would come of your second date, or if there would be a third, but you were okay with that. You were just living in the moment, and right now you really liked that infuriating-not-so-infuriating bastard. 

You were taking a chance, just like he was, and it was actually pretty exciting…

.

.

You woke up late the next morning, something you didn’t reprimand yourself for because it was summer break after all, but also, you had a raging wine headache that had needed all the shut eye it could get. Your head was still throbbing slightly as you reached for your phone on the bedside table but seeing a text from Seokjin waiting for you made it miraculously disappear. 

Seokjin (10:28am) Hi Y/N, Thank you for such a great time last night. I can’t wait until Saturday. Would it be alright with you if I kept in touch throughout the week?  Seokjin

You giggled to yourself at his insane formalities. Why was that so adorable? But most importantly how could he be both cute and sexy at the same time? He was hellbent on making you lose your mind. You thought about teasing him, asking him when he’d grown comfortable enough to drop the Regards from yesterday, but despite how well last night had gone, and despite how much you loved joking around with him in person, over the phone seemed different. You were still a little nervous – giddy nervous, but nervous, nevertheless. Your conversation from last night with Soojung came back to you, reminding you that this was all too real. You were potentially catching feelings for this man, and it was new, and exciting, but equal parts terrifying now that you’d woken up with a hangover. 

Everything you typed out in reply seemed way too stiff, so growing frustrated, you settled on an emoji to cut through the formalities. 

You (10:49am) I had such a lovely time too, Seokjin. Of course it’s fine to keep in touch. I’m looking forward to Saturday night! 😊

What did he mean exactly about keeping in touch?, you wondered as you got out of bed, padding your way down the stairs and into the kitchen for a much needed glass of ice cold water. A good morning text? A how are you? You knew he was busy with work all week, so you weren’t expecting too much, but just knowing he wanted to stay in contact until next Saturday made you smile to yourself as you waited for his response. 

You didn’t have to wait long. 

Seokjin (10:55am) Great! I’m so excited to try your World famous Italian lasagne 😁

Cute. He’d followed your lead, ditching the last of the formalities and even signing off with an emoji instead. You instantly felt more at ease, but – 

Oh no. 

Why did he have to bring that up and remind you of your humiliating blunder? You knew what would be taking up all of your time for the few days – you needed to perfect this goddamn dish. 

Soojung on the other hand was unbothered by your predicament. Mind in the gutter as always. “Do you think that’s a euphemism for something else?” She asked straight away once you’d shown her your messages a few hours later. 

“Soojung!” You exclaimed, feeling yourself get a little hot in the face. You wish she’d stop bringing up sex, it was stressing you out. You told her as much. 

“You’re the one who’s invited him to your house for a second date.” 

You stared at her, greatly unimpressed. “You know why I invited him here.” 

You’d told her last night. You’d been hit with a surge of confidence when you’d suggested it was your turn to decide on something. In truth though, you didn’t know the first thing about restaurants, you hardly ever ate out, and when you did it was either fast food or at the food court in the department store Soojung worked at. You knew he wouldn’t have minded any choice you’d made, but that didn’t stop the slight apprehension you felt. 

It was normal, given your difference in lifestyles, and whilst that seemed to be no issue thankfully, that difference was still there. However really, that’s why you’d chosen to cook for him. Seokjin had shown you something close to him last night – the restaurant he owned with his brother, and now you were to show him something close to your heart. Something that was you. You loved cooking and baking in your spare time and you wanted to share that with him however small. Granted it was things you were confident with, but lasagne couldn’t be that hard, right? A true perfectionist, you’d master it quickly enough…

Soojung rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you could suggest McDonald’s and Dilf would be insanely happy.” She nudged you, squealing like a kid. “He’s just so into you!”

You wouldn’t bite. She was making you nervous again. “Stop calling him Dilf, he has a name.”

“Geez, sorry.” She held up her hands in apology. “Didn’t mean to offend your man.” 

You pushed her shoulder, silently telling her to quit it.

For the next few days it became your life’s goal to master the art of lasagne. Sunday night was spent googling recipes, trying to find the most authentic one. There seemed to be a lot of fuss on the right type of pasta. Flat edged would be fine, but the wavy edge was best. You made note of that. Next was the sauce. Two types. The tomato based one and then the white one – which you learned was called Bechamel. That seemed pretty easy to cook up, but the former seemed a little daunting. Every time you’d had pasta sauce in the past it had been premade, starting from scratch was giving you anxiety. Seokjin thought this was your expertise so you had to make it believable. What if you made it too salty? Too bland?

…Possibly you were thinking way too hard about this. Soojung thought the same. 

“Just buy it in a jar, Y/N, for Christ’s sake. You’re taking this way too seriously. You don’t need to learn fluent Italian to make your little white lie believable. It’s a goddamn lasagne.” 

She had a point. 

“He’d be happy with a sandwich. He’s coming over for you, not the shitty lasagne.” 

“Don’t call my non-existent lasagne shitty, you’re setting me up for failure.” You grumbled, looking at the ten tabs you had up on your laptop screen, all claiming to be the best most authentic recipe around.  

On Monday you went shopping for ingredients. You knew a small world foods store that was just outside of town, you’d been there a couple of times when you’d been baking with the children for class. With help from signposted aisles, you found what you were looking for in no time at all, so that night, you and Soojung both tucked into your first (sort of) homemade lasagne. Only the Bechamel sauces was harder to master than you’d first thought. 

“I think you added too much flour.” Soojung’s nose wrinkled as she spoke. “It’s nice, don’t get me wrong, but the white stuff… I don’t know, maybe it’s supposed to taste like that?” 

Nope, she was definitely correct, too much flour, which was odd because you were pretty positive you’d followed the right measurements… 

Tuesday you had a day off from the sight, and even the word lasagne. You met for coffee with your mom but kept the date with Seokjin a secret. Not that she pressed about your love life anymore, she’d long given up on that topic. It was nice to catch up and you made plans for a trip soon. It was hard to find time to visit her when you were in work so you were always thankful for the summer and Christmas breaks. You were her only child, so it made your time together even more precious. She’d only remarried ten years ago, and while Jonathon had kids from his first marriage, they lived abroad. They were older than you and had families of their own. You weren’t particularly close for no other reason than the distance. You’d only met them a few times but they were lovely people. Your father had remarried while you were still in high school, having two more children (a son and daughter) with his wife. You were very close to them despite the age gap and saw them as regularly as you could. Your extended family had long been the norm and you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

Wednesday you were back on the lasagne. You purchased more pasta sauce and decided on the pre-made Bechamel sauce too, just to be safe. This time around everything went smoothly, Soojung had no complaints and neither did you, but you still invited Taehyung around on Thursday for a third go. He was way more enthusiastic than your best friend, singing your praises all night. 

“Y/N, that was amazing!” He exclaimed, leaning back in his chair to pat his belly. “Dilf dick – Uh, I mean, Seokjin, is going to love it.” 

“Guys, is that what you really call him when you’re alone together?” You whined. 

“Blame Soo,” Taehyung shrugged. “She’s rubbed off on me. But, I’m right,” he smirked. “He’s going to want to give you his DD once he tastes this, if you know what I mean.” 

Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, you looked on unimpressed. Maybe if you gave them no reaction they’d stop? 

“Oooo. I wonder what his dick even looks like. I bet it’s as handsome as his face.” Soojung squealed, sat beside her boyfriend. 

“SOOJUNG!” He cried, mouth open in disbelief. 

“Can we just stop talking about his… y’know…” You sighed, unable to say the word aloud. “Imagine if it was the other way around and he was wondering about what I looked like naked.” Soojung wouldn’t be impressed, that was for sure. 

“Fine, you’re right,” your best friend sighed. “I’m just way too excited because you finally like someone!!” She was getting loud now, she always did when she was excited. “And I want it to work out because you deserve it!” 

You chuckled. “Soo, calm down.” But you had to admit her words were sweet. You reached for her hand across the tiny table, giving it a gentle squeeze of thanks. 

“What about Barman dick?” Taehyung asked randomly, totally oblivious that you and she were having a moment. “Huh? Soo? You want my Barman dick tonight?” He wiggled his eyebrows again, a playfulness to his voice as he nudged her. 

She giggled but wasn’t having any of it. “It doesn’t really have the same ring to it, babe.” 

Highly offended he pulled away, pursing his lips. “Whatever.”

“Okay guys, let’s not have a domestic at the dining table.” You laughed. Which was a mistake because now Taehyung’s attention was back on you. 

“So, Y/N, when are you going to invite Mr. Dilf to my bar?”

You sniggered. “How about never?”

“Hey, you ladies are being very mean tonight. I complimented your lasagne.” Hm. That was true, you guessed. “What’s wrong with my bar? I think he’d love it. What does he drink? I see him as a dark rum type of guy.” 

You shrugged. “He was drinking red wine on our date last week.” It still made you feel funny to say the word date. You’d gone on a date. You were dating. A flurry of excitement found its way to your stomach, your excitement for Saturday growing. 

“Interesting,” Taehyung mused.

Soojung stood up, starting to collect your plates. “Okay, I’m washing, who’s drying?”

“Not me,” you sang. “I’ve cooked nearly every night this week.” 

Soojung eyes were wide when you met them, as if she was silently begging you. For what? “Just please promise me there won’t be any lasagne waiting for me after work tomorrow night? I’m going to turn into one at this rate.” 

Saturday arrived soon enough. You woke up the same time your phone went Bing and you knew exactly who it was. Seokjin had been texting you Good morning every day since Monday. He was no longer signing them off with his name, which was progress, and he was even adding more emojis, so you guessed you had rubbed off on him. 

Sometimes he’d drop a meme with the greeting. They were mostly to do with early mornings and workloads to which you’d tease him about because it was your summer vacation after all, you didn’t need to worry about work. But you always sent a Hope today runs smoothly his way too. You didn’t want to rub it in too much. 

Yesterday’s meme had been about dating, something about the guy trying to flirt but being garbage at it and asking if she liked cheese. You didn’t agree that was like Seokjin though – you were gradually learning that he was incredibly modest – but it had made you laugh. Only Seokjin could send you lame memes and you’d find it adorable… You were possibly whipped. 

Seokjin (8:01am)  Good morning. [Image sent] 

Today the meme was about lasagne, which made you question whether he was googling these every morning because no way had a lasagne meme popped up on his social media – if he used any at all. The realisation that he was searching for memes every day was even more endearing and your heart got a little gooey. You read the text on top of the image of lasagne. Dude, is that your new white shirt? Lemme just hop off this fork for a closer look. You genuinely laughed at that one, still wrapped up in your bed sheets. So incredibly lame, but equal levels funny. 

Seokjin (8:01am)  I will not be wearing white… I can’t wait to see you later. Just a reminder that I hope you omitted the garlic for tonight’s meal. I don’t want to embarrass myself by itching all night 😅😂

Immediately the smile dropped from your face and you shot forward, horror washing over you. Oh no. He was allergic to garlic. With the stress of perfecting the world’s best lasagne you’d totally forgotten. What were you going to do? Find a plain tomato sauce? Where the hell were you going to find one? Was that even a thing? You needed to leave now. Jumping out of bed you almost forgot to message Seokjin back. Looking at your phone again the image of the lasagne mocked you… 

.

.

Two hours later you were back at home, in need of a sit down after you’d rushed around town looking for a pasta sauce that didn’t contain garlic (very hard, by the way.) The stress had aged you about ten years. Soojung of course found it highly hilarious. 

“You’d have been in ER before 9pm,” she chortled, still in her pyjamas on the couch. She’d been still asleep when you’d dashed off, a woman on a lasagne mission. 

You ignored her. It wouldn’t have been that bad, right? He said himself he’d only be itching… Clawing off his own skin was probably better than his throat closing up… maybe… 

“How did you manage to forget?” She was still laughing. “AND you said you’d make a lasagne. Italian food always uses garlic. He must think you’re trying to kill him.” At this point you could hardly understand her, words blurring into one as she lost her shit. 

“We went over this. I wasn’t in my right mind when I said I’d cook lasagne.”

She stopped her laugher immediately.  “No way, you’re not blaming me again.” 

“Ugh.” You sighed, suddenly remembering something. “I was going to make my homemade garlic bread.” Now that was a speciality of yours. This night was going to be a disaster.

“Skip the garlic,” Soojung suggested. 

“So, just bread then.” 

She tried her best not to laugh again, not wanting to make it worse. “Yum.” 

It didn’t help. 

What did help though, was making her clean the entirety of the downstairs of the house. As the day went on you started to get more and more nervous, which was silly, but you couldn’t help it. You realised that your place was a shoe box in comparison to his, what the hell were you thinking when you’d invited him here?! It needed to be spotless, to distract him from the fact you would be eating dinner in the same place you would be cooking it… 

You knew there was no need to worry, it was just like last week when you’d grown self-conscious only to be fine once you’d set eyes on Seokjin. No doubt tonight would be just the same, he didn’t give a crap about stuff like that, so why would you even think he would? He’d probably be hurt if he knew… You just couldn’t help those little bubbles of insecurities from floating around inside your brain. You were a law unto yourself, and the garlic-less lasagne wasn’t helping. You’d had no time to prep for it. What if it tasted like cardboard? 

“Lasagne is lasagne,” Soojung reassured you, in the kitchen as you got all the ingredients together. “It’s not going to taste gross just because there’s no garlic in it. Put it this way, at least you can kiss without needing to pop a mint.” 

You whined, shaking your head, you couldn’t even dare thinking about kissing him right now. You’d spontaneously combust from anxiety. 

“Should we clean your room too?” She asked, picking up the jar of pasta sauce absentmindedly. You’d already read the label approximately fifteen times, double checking it was indeed garlic-less. 

“What? No,” you told her, voice all high-pitched. There would be no going upstairs besides from bathroom usage. “But hey,” you exclaimed, rounding on her with the spoon you were holding in your hand. “My room is always clean, bitch.”

She was the messy one.

.

.

Soojung left for Taehyung’s place at half 6, ready for Seokjin’s arrival at 7pm, a hug for good luck before you waved her off. You’d calmed greatly now, nothing like some table laying to ease some nerves. The lasagne was prepped and ready to oven cook, you had a fresh key lime pie in the fridge and you were dressed and presentable with ten minutes to spare. Wonderful. 

The doorbell rung not long after you’d made your way downstairs and you were quickly finding out that Seokjin was a very punctual man. Opening the door to reveal him stood at the porch your heart instantly warmed, skipping a beat when he gave you a dazzling smile and a soft Hey. You felt a little weak at the knees. Nope, you were not ready for tonight. 

In your tiny entryway he offered you a silver gift bag. “I didn’t know what to bring, so.” He said with a shrug as you pulled out a bottle of red wine. 

“Oh, thank you, Seokjin.” You hadn’t been expecting him to bring anything at all. It was a lovely surprise. 

“You probably have some waiting already. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you reassured him. “We’ll use this one.” You were going to use a bottle of white wine you had laying around, nothing special at all. Red wine seemed better, fancier, maybe it would go better with the lasagne?

“Are you sure?” He asked. “I was gonna get you flowers but I didn’t want to freak you out or anything.”

You laughed. What was he going on about? “Why would that freak me out?”

His smile was crooked as he chuckled quietly. “I don’t know. I’m new to this, I thought they would’ve been too forward.” 

You gave a small shrug, voice barely there when you replied. “I like flowers.”

He gazed at you, warm eyes softening as he stepped forward. “Next time.” He smiled. “Next time I’ll get you flowers.” 

You swallowed fairly loudly, averting your gaze as you outstretched your arms. “Let me take you coat.” Was it hot in here? You felt a little stuffy. 

He shrugged off the beige wool blend, revealing the tight fitting black shirt he had on underneath. It stretched over his shoulders, accentuating how broad they were, how hard his chest was and how much his waist curved inwards. The pants he was wearing didn’t help matters too. He looked effortlessly gorgeous, hair parted to the side, a piece curled above his left eye, softening the blow of his exposed forehead. You moved to hook his coat on the rack, realising you could’ve been gawping. Not that you could help it, the man was trying to kill you.

As you turned to face him again, he smiled. “You look really nice.” His voice was soft which just made it even more dangerous. “I think this may be the first time I’ve seen you in pants.” 

“Really?” You wondered. You were partial to a dress in the summer, so he was probably right. You’d chosen a pair of black skinny jeans and a patterned chiffon blouse. Nothing too fancy, but he looked at you with awe-filled eyes. Unless you were imagining it. You cleared your throat. “You look good too.”

He stepped back, arms outstretched as he looked down at himself. “Thanks. No white.” He chuckled. 

You forced yourself to laugh too, nerves creeping back just because of your stupid damn lasagne. “No white.” 

Moving forward again he took your hand. It was warm and soft, just as you remembered from last week. Who cared about the lasagne when you were this close to him? When he was looking down at you with those brown, twinkly eyes? Not you anymore. 

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week, Y/N.” 

Oh.

.

.

You invited him inside the living room first, pouring him a small (and his only because he the car) glass of wine as you chit chatted for a few minutes. Sat next to him was RJ, who you’d taken from your bedroom to join you both for the night. He wanted to say Hi, had been your opening line and Seokjin had found it hilarious, cracking up instantly. Although his “I missed you buddy, how have you been?” went rudely ignored. Maybe the alpaca was nervous… 

Ever the gentleman, he complimented you on the house, noting the décor with a fond eye. That surprised you, maybe he had played a part with the interior of his home. Well, you’d only seen the cosy family room – but it suited him very well. You knew there had been no need to be nervous when it came to inviting him into your home. There wasn’t a judging bone in Seokjin’s body. 

You talked about your weeks, yours had been fine, but of course you left out all the stress over the lasagne. Seokjin’s week on the other hand had been quite demanding, but that was nothing new he told you with an accepting shake of his hand. He was used to it by now, but he had to admit tonight’s date had made it easier this time around. He was full of the charm, not that you were complaining…

Misook was babysitting Arin tonight, he told you when you asked how she was. It was his weekend this week, he and Nana took it in turns – when she didn’t cancel, he added as an afterthought – but he seemed a lot more relaxed talking about his ex-wife this time around seeing as last weekend she hadn’t broken any promises. He was happy if his daughter was happy, and that made you smile. You remembered Arin’s sorrowful face that day her mom had cancelled on her, so you were glad they’d found time to spend time together. You also remembered how irritated Seokjin had sounded when he was opening up to you on the bench at the school fate… You wondered just how often Nana cancelled plans, and couldn’t imagine how frustrating that was for both Arin and Seokjin… You hoped this marked the start of things being easier for them now. 

Soon after that, you served him your starter (“garlic – wait, no I mean, no-garlic bread.”), and you chatted some more over that and while the lasagne baked. It was surprising how little you’d touched the sides on your first date, so tonight you covered even more bases. Family mainly. You told him about your half and step siblings, your parents’ remarriages of course coming up too. He seemed interested in that, wondering about your views on it and if it had affected you as you grew up. As a divorcee you understood the relevance to him and because he was so easy to talk to you found yourself opening up freely. 

His parents were still married and Seokjin was the youngest out of their two sons, so it was quite unheard of for the second born to take over a family company. In fact, it was the first of its kind for his, which made it even harder for him. His older brother had been the rightful heir to LG Electronics but his passion had always been in culinary arts. His parents had been kind enough to let him follow his dreams, and thankfully, for Seokjin, that meant he could follow in his father’s footsteps. He’d been eager to prove himself but it had been hard in the beginning. His status as the youngest son meant that a lot of people set him up for failure, but with his family’s love and belief he’d managed to succeed and confirm himself as the rightful CEO. You didn’t doubt it. It seemed he’d worked hard to get where he was now. That was admirable. 

The influx of information was so interesting to you and it didn’t feel real. While you could imagine Seokjin taking charge, visualising him in that tailored houndstooth suit he’d worn when you’d first met him, it was strange to think the smiley and soft-spoken man sat in front of you was from a long line of power and wealth. He should be untouchable, yet here you were able to reach for his hand across the table. Able to feel his forefinger stroking delicate patterns into your palm as you opened up and got to know one another more and more… 

“So, if your family’s a big deal, what about things like arranged marriages? Are they still a thing?” You asked, maybe confusing fiction for fact. 

Seokjin laughed at your wording. “They used to be, not so much anymore. I met my ex-wife through a friend. They concentrate less on things like that these days.” He shrugged, adding as an afterthought, “As a divorced CEO I think I’m a great example of that.” 

That was true, you thought to yourself, wondering how the breakdown of his marriage had also played a part in the stress of his early years as CEO. 

“I know it all sounds pretty crazy, but I like to think my family is just like anyone else’s.” He continued, smiling bashfully when you met his gaze. “That I’m just like anyone else.” 

You wondered how many people had immediately judged him because of his status… You’d been one of them, right? Even if you hadn’t known any of the details, you’d written him off as some obnoxious, rich guy who flaunted his wealth… You felt guilty thinking back. He was the complete opposite.

You nodded in agreement before grinning. “I’d have liked to see what college Seokjin was like.” 

“A complete nerd, to tell you the truth.” 

He answered so seriously, you didn’t know how to react, and then he was laughing loudly, cracking up at himself. You couldn’t help but join in. That’s when your stove alarm went off, shrill and incessant, signalling the arrival of the dreaded lasagne…

It turned out he loved it though. 

“This is amazing,” Seokjin praised, mouth still half full as he chewed. You did have to admit it was good. It tasted just like the original, despite the lack of garlic. Seokjin quirked an eyebrow, smirking your way. “So, how lucky am I to be able to try this World famous Italian lasagne?” 

“Very lucky.” You kept your answer short. Hoping he’d just drop it. 

He didn’t. 

“How lucky?” He tried to pry from you. “How many people have tried it?” 

You gave him a small smile, hovering your fork over the plate. Technically he was the third, but you couldn’t tell him that, could you? “I can’t disclose that.” 

He emitted a short laugh. “What about the recipe? Care to share?” 

You brushed him off with a soft chuckle. “A chef never tells her secrets.”

“Not even me?” His bottom lip jutted out as he looked across at you. 

Your heart did a little dance. He was being unfair. “Don’t pout like that, it’s making me feel guilty.” 

Thankfully the lasagne topic fizzled out after a couple more minutes, your cold sweat having time to dissipate while you chatted and ate together comfortably. However a few minutes later you noticed Seokjin fidgeting slightly in his seat. You politely ignored it to begin with, unsure if you were just imagining it, but then he started itching the back of his neck. You put your fork down, a sick feeling washing over you. “Is anything wrong?” You asked, now watching him itch up his forearm. “Seokjin?”

He looked at you in mild confusion, eyebrows creasing together as he opened his mouth. “Are you sure there wasn’t any garlic in this?” 

You swallowed away the panic racing up your throat. “I’m sure.” You’d read the back of that jar and then read it some more. “I’m positive.” 

… Weren’t you? You watched him scoot his chair back, leaning down to start scratching the back of his calves. He made noises of discomfort as he did so. 

“Oh, no…” You were up before you could stop yourself, racing around him to start hunting in the recycling for the glass jar. 

“Wait, where are you going?” 

You could hear Seokjin’s voice behind you, sounding alarmed, but you were too panicked to really take it in. You needed to be sure. This was just your second date, you couldn’t ruin things already. Turning him into one giant itchy red blob had not been your intention.  

“I was only teasing you.” Still, his words didn’t sink in. That was until you felt a hand on your elbow, tugging gently for your attention. 

You spun around, worried eyes wide – even wider when you found him so close. He was on his feet too, bent a little to level with you, pretty much within kissing distance. His voice was soft when he spoke, you found yourself distracted by his mouth. “Y/N, I was just messing around.”

You blinked, not truly understanding with all those annoying distractions zooming around your mind, but slowly you pieced his words together. Oh. Despite the relief you felt, now you just felt silly. Plus, he was still so close to you… 

You took a step back, the small of your back pressing up against the counter. You needed a clear head. “Don’t freak me out like that.” You told him, but you still sighed in relief, hand against your chest. “I thought I’d poisoned you.” 

He looked a little concerned, but you could tell by his eyes he found your reaction amusing. “I’m sorry,” he apologised. “I just wanted to make you laugh.”

“Make me laugh? You nearly gave me heart failure.” However, you gave him what he wanted, a laugh that sounded weak and shaky, but it was something – you did see the funny side. 

He joined you, shoulders relaxing now that he knew you were okay. He looked behind you, eyes on the trashcan, a bemused smile on his face. “What were you looking for anyway?”

“The jar.” You answered, as if it wasn’t obvious. You turned, deciding to fish it out anyway. Holding it up to him, you were adamant. “See, no garlic. Check.” 

He chuckled. “I already said I was joking.” He took one look at your desperate expression and gave in, taking the jar from your hand. “But if it makes you feel better…” You watched him as he read the label, silently soaking in his handsome features. He looked softer tonight, the curve of his jaw rounding as he smiled. It took you a moment to realise he was done. He handed the jar back to you, and you prayed to God he hadn’t caught you staring at him all gooey-eyed. “It’s fine.” He confirmed. “I’ll be itch free tonight.” 

You smiled and plopped the glass back inside the can. “I looked around town for hour trying to find lasagne sauce sans garlic.” 

He looked guilty. “I’m sorry for being awkward.” Then he paused, eyes narrowing, the hint of a smirk itching at the corners of his mouth. “But… Y/N, are you a fraud?” Huh? What did he mean? You didn’t need to wait long for an explanation. “I thought a certified chef would cook up a batch of her own tomato sauce.”

Oh. You’d gone and put your foot in it, hadn’t you? It was probably time to explain yourself… “I have a confession,” you began, sounding wary. Seokjin looked interested albeit it mildly confused. “I… may have told a little white lie.”

He shook his head, a puff of laughter leaving him. “You’ve lost me.” 

You took a deep breath, knowing you were going to have to spell it out for him. “I’ve never made lasagne before. Ever. In my entire life.” 

He looked confused as silence spread out between you. He sounded it too when he spoke again. “Then why did you say it was your speciality?”

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands for one dramatic moment. “I panicked.” Peeking at him, you babbled on. “I know it sounds stupid but Soojung was curtain twitching and it was stressing me out and then you were asking me what I cooked and lasagne just popped into my head!”

Seokjin blinked, his mouth twitched and then he was laughing – loudly. 

“You find it funny?” You asked, relaxing a tad. 

“Very.” He laughed harder but seeing the look of bafflement on your face he tried is best to still it. 

“I’ve been practicing it like crazy,” you whined, happy you could finally tell him all about your lasagne struggles. “This is my fourth time eating it this week. Soojung nearly killed me.” You snorted at the memory. This started up Seokjin again. “And then I forgot you were allergic to garlic. Your text reminded me this morning and I had to rush out to the grocery store.” 

He was weak at the knees at that, and you were laughing just because he was. It was contagious. “Stop,” you wailed, attempting to get a hold of yourself. This week had actually been quite traumatic. “I’m glad you find it funny, I’ve been in constant stress ever since you drove off last week.” 

“I can’t help it.” He chuckled, although he did sound apologetic. “You’re just so adorable.” The air that settled around his effortless admission made your skin prickle. When he carried on, his tone was gentle. “You know I wouldn’t have minded if you changed the menu to something else, right?” 

You pouted ever so slightly. “But you were looking forward to it.” 

He gave a small shrug. “True, but… that was more so code for ‘I’m looking forward to seeing you again.’ The food was just a bonus. I’d be happy with a Big Mac.” 

You felt your cheeks burn and you tried to shake yourself out of it. “So embarrassing,” you murmured. You didn’t know what for… The lasagne mess or the fact he could have this much of an effect of you? You were inclined to go with the latter. 

“What about the no-garlic bread?” Seokjin asked, changing the subject a little. Maybe he’d sensed your embarrassment and didn’t want to make it worse. He was sweet. “Did you make that?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Well, I didn’t bake the bread. I just toasted it.” It was still a speciality of yours though. “It would’ve been much tastier with the garlic.” 

He gave you an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. This body wants to turn me into a miserable old man.” 

Pfft. Old? Miserable? He was anything but. 

“Sit,” he prompted you, smiling as he motioned with his head to the table. “Finish your World famous Italian lasagne before it grows cold.” 

As you moved he delicately cupped his hand around the curve your waist, giving it a soft squeeze before he got to his chair first. Your stomach flipped, head dizzy as you sat and tucked your chair in. Last Saturday popped into your head, the way you’d loosely held hands outside and how you were sure he’d been leaning in to kiss you – properly. 

You knew one thing. You really wanted to kiss him tonight. 

Trying to get a hold of yourself, you glanced at him, catching his eyes. He was already tucking in again, and he grinned bashfully, as if embarrassed. “This really is great. All that practice paid off.” A pause. “You should show me how you cooked it sometime.” 

Your face lit up in surprise. “You cook?” In the back of your mind you were aware that he’d probably been hinting for a third date, but you were so shocked by the possibly of Seokjin cooking you couldn’t stop yourself from asking. 

He chuckled quietly. “I mean, when I have time and can be bothered. I like cooking but it’s just easier to go to a restaurant or get it delivered.” He looked sheepish before adding, “Or Misook does it for me.” 

There was no shame when it came to that. Seokjin probably worked all hours of the day, no one could expect him to tie on an apron when he got home and start pulling out pots and pans. 

“Do you cook a lot?” He asked. 

You nodded. “Soojung and I take it in turns.” 

“So what is your speciality?” He smiled. 

This time around you were in your right mind and able to answer properly. “Veggie tacos.” 

He raised his eyebrows, impressed. Then he tried again. “Can you make them for me sometime?”

He was persistent, you’d give him that. You shrugged, trying your best to sound impassive but the little smirk gave it away. “Maybe if you say please…” 

He laughed, leaning forward, a hand clasping yours as he tilted his head. The piece of curled hair falling into his left eye. “Please?”

Your heart did another little dance inside your chest. 

.

. 

After dessert you both made your way back to the living room, settling on your couch with two pomegranate mocktails Taehyung had prepared for you yesterday. All you had to do was add the pomegranate juice and lemonade to the ice cubes and crushed lime segments and mint before serving, easy-peasy. Seokjin was highly impressed, but of course you couldn’t take the credit. It was all down to your best friend’s very helpful barman boyfriend. 

You were glad Seokjin wanted to stay as you didn’t want the night to be over yet. It had flown by so fast and you’d had so much fun. You already felt like you knew him better, even after only two dates. It was strange to you, how you could feel so relaxed in a stranger’s company, but then again, you guessed he wasn’t a stranger anymore… Plus, he was so easy to talk to, so interesting to get to know…. Everything between you two came easy. 

Like opening up to him, being a bit more vulnerable… 

“I’ve been slightly nervous all week,” you admitted, clutching your drink to you before chuckling softly. “– and not just about the lasagne faux pas…” 

“There was no need to be nervous. I thought we left all that behind on the first date,” Seokjin reassured, smiling warmly your way. 

You were sat together, turned to face one another. It was intimate and cosy. He had one leg lifted, the ankle resting on the knee of the other leg, and where his pants had ridden up, you could see an inch or so of his calf before it met the black cotton of his sock. For some reason, you found that very, very sexy. Maybe you had been single for far too long. 

“We did,” you agreed, hesitating slightly. “It’s just… I haven’t done anything like this in so long.” 

You didn’t even think you’d ever invited someone around for dinner before. You were still quite young when you found yourself in a relationship with Donghae so your dates before him had been very basic. Your dates with him hadn’t really classed as such just because you became official fairly quickly, and your dates after him, well, it was already known that they had been few and far between. 

“You already know we’re in the same boat,” he smiled before chuckling bashfully. “No, but really, when I asked you for dinner that day at the fate I was expecting you to turn me down.” 

“How come?”

He looked down at his drink, lifting a shoulder. “I thought you’d think that I was crossing a line… or maybe the spark I was feeling was all in my head and in reality you just found me really annoying.” 

That was cute. He’d been doubting himself. Human after all. Not that you’d ever thought he wasn’t. You still didn’t miss the opportunity to joke around though. “I mean, both can exist simultaneously.” He taking a sip of his mocktail when you replied so he ended up snorting into his glass, amused by your wit. 

A moment or so passed and Seokjin gazed at you, smiling softly. If he kept this up, you’d be a puddle on your parquet flooring. “So, tell me,” he hummed. “How did I luck out so good?” You raised an eyebrow, wondering what he meant. “How come an amazing person like you isn’t married or in a relationship?”

He must’ve seen the slight shock on your face and panicked instantly. “Is that a weird thing to ask? I feel like it is. I apologise.”

“No,” you insisted, sitting up a little straighter. He followed. “No, it’s not.” You wanted to open up to him. You really did. You just didn’t know where to start. Although, it was pretty simple. “I’ve been single for a while.” 

“How long?” Seokjin was instantly focused, attentive, noticing the change in your body language. 

“Three years. My last relationship didn’t end very well.” You paused, wondering if you should continue. But then… It had been a massive part of your life. No matter how much time had passed and no matter how okay you were now, it had still happened. And Seokjin, he had trusted you enough to open up about his divorce – even before you’d gone on your first date. You wanted to talk about it. You really did. 

“I found out my fiancé was cheating on me.”  

Seokjin’s eyes widened, unable to cloak his surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said sincerely. 

“It’s fine,” you smiled. “It was rough getting over it. Took me a while, but it is what it is. It’s in the past now.” 

“Did it put you off dating?” 

You were pleasantly surprised to find it was actually easy to talk to Seokjin about this. Your mouth was opening before you had to think about it. “I mean, at first. I was still very much in love with him, even after he broke my heart. But I got over him and I started dating again – briefly – It just didn’t feel right.” You stopped to smile. “It’s been over a year and I can’t say I missed it… but you…” Nerves growing, you pushed them away. “You’ve changed that. I’m having fun.” 

Seokjin’s face lit up and he chuckled. “I did hit second date status after all.” 

“You did…” 

“So,” he leaned closer, a small smirk on his face. “You could say, hitting your car that day wasn’t actually my fault because it was supposed to happen.” 

You snorted as you laughed, head falling against the back of the couch. “I wouldn’t go that far.” 

He made a sound. “But we wouldn’t have met otherwise.” 

“We would!” You exclaimed. “The parent-teacher meeting.” 

He blinked, feeling dumb. “Oh, yeah.” 

It wouldn’t have had the same effect, granted, but you would have become acquainted with one another regardless. “Would you have still liked me?” You asked without thinking, surprising yourself. 

“Yes,” he replied immediately. “I was instantly attracted to you after all, it’s just…” Instantly attracted? Definitely a charmer... “There would’ve been no way for me to get to know you like I did.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re really adamant that you had to reverse into my car to make this work, huh.”

He shrugged casually. “It was the only way.” 

You laughed quietly, finishing the last of your drink. Time was getting on, it was pretty late, Seokjin had already finished his, you watched him sit up to lean forward and place the glass on your coffee table. His shirt tightened across his shoulder blades and you could see his back muscles as he stretched. Oh.  

Settling back into the same position, he looked over at you and grinned. His teeth were perfect. Did this man have zero flaws? Why were you so whipped? It was embarrassing. 

“I had fun tonight,” you told him, trying to keep a lid on whatever was going on with you right now. 

He seemed pleased with that, nodding his head. “I’m happy to hear that you think I’m a fun person.” 

You scoffed, body falling closer to his. Your shoulders brushed together. Seokjin didn’t take his eyes off you. “Hm. I don’t think I said that.” 

“Hey, don’t be so mean.” He murmured, one side of his mouth quirking up. 

Like you couldn’t stop yourself, your hand reached for the collar of shirt. He had the top two buttons loose and your pinkie finger brushed against his collarbone. Sparks flew, but you tried to ignore them. “I thought you liked it when I was mean.” You teased, voice low. 

Seokjin hummed, his eyes still twinkled like they always did but there was something else to them, a depth that made you feel funny. He sunk closer to you. So close you could study the thick curve of his eyelashes, notice that both his eyelids were different. He really did have beautiful eyes. You could stare at them forever. 

Preoccupied, you slowly realised that he was watching you too, studying your features in the golden glow of the floor lamp that hovered over the couch. His lips parted, you heard them rather than saw it, but then your attention was on them again. Just like it had been earlier on in the night. He was staring at yours too as he spoke. “I wanted to kiss you last week.” 

You heartbeat quickened but you tried to keep cool. “You did kiss me.” You laughed. 

He sighed. “On the cheek.”  

You lightly tugged his collar, fingertips now brushing the skin of his chest. “Isn’t that what you said you wanted to do?”

You could feel his own heartbeat against your forearm that was pressed into him. It was definitely running a little faster than it was supposed to – stronger. “Yes, but…” He glanced up to your eyes. “I was just being polite. I wanted to kiss your lips.”

It felt like you were holding your breath. Maybe you were, you just couldn’t think straight. Time seemed to stretch out, but you knew what you wanted. So you went after it. Giving him a small smile, you replied. “Maybe I wanted that too.” 

He swallowed, voice so low now it was barely a murmur. “Is that an invitation?” His eyes bounced to your lips again, then back to your eyes as he asked permission. “Can I kiss you?”

You ever so slightly dragged your bottom lip beneath your teeth as you nodded, breath catching in your throat as Seokjin leaned forward and closed the distance between you. The hand in between your bodies moved to delicately hold the wrist of your arm against his chest, holding you there as his other hand reached for your jaw, angling your face to press a kiss to your mouth. His eyes were already closed so you followed. 

He hummed at the contact, his lips soft and warm and you let yourself sink. His actions were light at first, faint as he kept constant pressure, as if he was familiarising himself with the sensation. You couldn’t even let yourself think about how this was the first kiss you’d shared with someone for a very long time. All that was going through your mind was how good it felt to be touched like this by him. 

He readjusted the hand on your face, tucking some hair behind your ear to cup your cheek. You liked that. You liked it when he touched you, and he eased from your mouth completely before coming back with a firmer pressure. It was your turn to make a sound; a tiny gasp as your lips began to move together ever so slowly. He liked that, a hum of satisfaction vibrating against the soft skin of your lips. You clutched at his shirt, gathering the crisp cotton in your fist, that would surely turn it creased, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was too preoccupied with reaching for the glass you’d forgotten was hugged to your body by your free hand. 

He unclasped it from your fingers and had no choice but to break away from your mouth to put it next to his on the coffee table. You whined, attempting to tug him back to you, and he chuckled, taking a hold of one of your hands. “I’ll be back,” he whispered, leaning forward to place the cocktail glass down. 

And he was. 

This time he used both of his hands to grasp your face and dive back in. He was more confident this time, moving in such a way his lips pried yours open. You reached for his shoulders, grasping them to hold him closer and this time you both made noises – sweet, quiet ones that worked beautiful together as your lips moulded with gradual urgency. 

When your hands found the nape of his neck, fingers through his hair, he had to drag the tip of his tongue across your bottom lip, seeking entry. You met it with yours, tasting hints of pomegranate and lime with each wash of tongue. A hand of his slipped down to your side, stroking up and down the curve as if he couldn’t help but to touch you. He settled at your hip after a moment, the other splayed against the side of your neck, his thumb rolling small circles under your cheekbone. 

This was getting addictive. You could tell by the way you moaned softly against each warm, wet curl of his tongue. This was everything you’d imagined and more – because you had imagined it. Late and secretly at night when you were trying to drift off to sleep and thoughts of lasagne were banished… You were glad your first kiss was here, inside, on your couch, because this wasn’t something for the open, your knees wouldn’t have been able to hold you up. 

You could have kissed him forever, you mean, you definitely didn’t want it to stop but you pretty much had to. Breathing was a necessity, right? If you couldn’t breathe you wouldn’t be able to ever kiss Seokjin again and that would be absolutely awful… 

You did it the right way though – gradually. Seokjin slowed it right down, only hints of his tongue left as he hummed indulgently, like he was savouring your taste before he had to inevitably pull away. It made your insides jump around like crazy, hearing him enjoying himself, and you tried your best to come to when he started easing the pressure of his lips, pressing small, chaste kisses to them instead as you ultimately (but slowly) broke apart. 

You opened your eyes, blinking up at him, hands falling from his hair, aware you had become one with your cushions. You struggled to free yourself as he sat back and you watched him smile fondly at you. His breath was shaky – so was yours, and you were sure his hands trembled slightly as one reached up to scratch the back of his neck. His neck that was blotched with red, flushed, travelling to his cheeks. They were rosier than you’d ever seen them before. Your gut stirred. 

“I’ve been dreaming of that,” he told you, before making a face at himself. “Too cringey?” 

You giggled – it sounded foreign. “Just a bit.” But didn’t deter the fact you loved it. 

You warmed when you felt him squeeze your hip, realising his hand was still there and you reached for it, tangling your fingers with his. He pulled them to his mouth, kissing your knuckles softly. His expression was thoughtful when he lowered your hands. “In all seriousness, thank you for giving me a chance, after well, you know, everything.”

You smiled, touched by his earnestness, but it was hard to keep a sane mind when his lips were as kiss bitten as they were – deep pink and glistening. You wanted to kiss his face off. 

“It’s no problem,” you quipped, as if you were doing him a favour. 

He chuckled tenderly, and luckily for you he was unable to stop himself from kissing you again. He reached forward, hooking a finger under your chin to press his mouth to yours softly. “I’d really love if we could keep on doing… this.” He murmured. 

“The dating or the kissing,” you grinned, stealing another kiss in the process. 

“Hm,” he contemplated. “Both preferably.” 

And then you were on one another again, eager once more. 

Although, you did manage to pull away briefly to tell him something, his mouth moving to the side of your face to kiss there instead as your hands dragged down his back. You were somehow able to get the words out – ones that made him laugh against your wet jaw. 

“I’m so glad you hit my car.” 

Written 2020 - 2021.  Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[kkusuka]

Helloooo, your writing on the aftermath hc was just ✨immaculate✨ please if you can write more to those i would be super mega happy, just if you want lol. Also I am loving your blog! Hope you have a nice day and a happy new year! <3

stardust you have my heart

da bois : matsukawa, suna, kyotani (daddy maddog), kuroo, daichi, oikawa, futakuchi

pt.1 

matsukawa issei

𝚊 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚙 ☀︎︎

simply, he has a big dick

and god does he know how to use it

and he’s a quick learner too, by the second time you two fucked he already knew exactly where to aim for you to feel the best

and this is where it all began

what’s worse is sex gets better and better every time he’s in you

but better=harder=longer= you look like you’ve been hit my a car

or was lifting weights the entire night before

the two of you have mastered just ignoring the looks and just the limp in general

but it seemed some people just couldn’t get past it

“ y/n, are you ok? you’ve been limping all week”

yeah issei got a really good laugh at your explaining that you were fine

of course the sex was too good for you to stop

limp or not matsukawa makes it worth it

and having him carry you around the next morning will never get old

suna rintarou

𝕒 𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕝 𝕔𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕒 𝕣𝕠𝕝𝕝 ❣︎

even if it’s the total opposite of their school motto, suna likes memories

specifically memories of you bouncing in on his dick

and considering that suna has a fairly high sex drive (no question he’s a horny boy and we know it)

also consider that he not only records but takes pictures, from as many angles as he can

it kills his phone storage!

but you have a phone don’t you? you can just send them to him or something

and by the end of the month both of your camera rolls were full of pictures and videos of you two fucking

even blowjobs

(his favorite tho, a “selfie” of you sitting on his face. back arched and grinding into his face)

yeah the both of you invested in more phone storage and had to filter some stuff to his computer for safe keeping

a tiny little thing

suna doesn’t hide these photos either

all you have to do is open his phone and go to the camera to see anything you’ve pretty much done in the past

this lead to the entire japanese national olympic team seeing more that a few pictures of you losing yourself on him

thanks atsumu, no more selfie’s on suna’s phone

kyotani kentaro

𝒃𝒆𝒅𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒔 

(bed sheet imprints)

face down ass up, somehow you’re always in this position

and we all know he’s got some pent up anger that has to be released in some way

you see where this is going right?

yeah you aren’t getting out of that position until you collapse, but the hell just kinda pick you back up

you know those really good naps? and how you get those imprints you get?

yeah those are alllllll over you, and he loves it

after sex he gets so soft 🥺

he likes to cuddle and we all know it

he’ll lay your body over his and he’ll just rub your arms and just stare at them

he doesn’t voice it but he loves seeing the physical evidence that you belong to him

aaaannnnddd it gives he more of a reason to hold you in his arms

he tell you it’s because he “feels bad” about marking your skin

you’re not gonna argue against you secretly cuddle loving boyfriend

kuroo tetsuro

ʀɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴘᴀɴᴛɪᴇs ꕥ

they are just so hard to get off

it takes too long and he’d just rather be in you

its gotten so bad they you walk around your house with not panties on

its not worth wearing them only to be shredded on the floor like they never existed. 

but when you do have your own little protest for your panties

he’ll wave you over  and hook his fingers over the sides of the garment

and yank!!

there they go, like they never existed in the first place

that is until you discover his stash of your ripped underwear in his side of your shared closet. 

eventually you run out of underwear to rip

and that means kuroo can take you to the lingere shop and buy you a ton on stuff. 

but that also mean he gets his annual panty fashion show

you could rival the victoria secret girls when you do it for him

sex is just too good for you to be worrying about some silly panties

sawamura daichi (he is very hot and we need to recognize it) 

𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭 ☯︎︎

Daichi just goes so hard

And he makes you ragasm at leat twice before he’s even in you

Then he fucks you stupid

It is unfair how good he makes you feel

But too many orgasms come with a price

One serious cloudy mind that eventually forms a light head 

You can't even think about what you want to do

Its all just fog and orgasic glow

And he knows it too, he purposely makes you unable to think

But when you do come back, a bath is being run for you

And a sort of tea is next to the bed

With either chocolate or another sweet snack of some sort

Even if he is strict in bed, he takes very good care of his baby, a bath and cuddles are just what you need to get back your working mind

oikawa tooru

IᑎᗩᗷIᒪIY TO ᖴOᖇᗰ ᗯOᖇᗪs

This man is lateral mind fuck

Two things play into your inability to speak almost every time he fucks you

One, he wants to hear you scream for him

And that you do

Well you ready don't have a choice in the matter

But after your throat goes raw, you can still mumble some words? 

No no no

That won’t do, not at all

So he fucks you as hard and longs as his amazing stamina will allow him too, making you an incompentent mound of flesh

No more words and an accomplished tooru are what you always seem to zone back in to.  

But like always he’ll make you some tea and set up a little move and cuddle session

Your voice still hurts in the morning but its all worth it in the end

futakuchi kenji

ⒶⓃ ⒺⒼⓄ ⓇⒾⒹⒹⒺⓃ ⒷⓄⓎ 𓀬

Anything gives this man an ego trip

Moan loudly he’s giving you that stupidly hot smirk

So when you really get off from him he practically sparkling

He doesn't even try to hide it either

He walks around boasting about it

He is so full of himself its ridiculous 

But it’s rightfully so, he makes you feel like you're on cloud nine every time he gets a finger on you. 

And you should NEVER tell him that, like ever ever

He also tells you that he cuddles you after sex because YOU need it

Yeah liar, he likes it just as much as you do

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Summer Break(down)

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, weed, breeding/forced pregnancy.

This is dark!Lee Bodecker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Based on this drabble request: Lee + interrogation + breeding/forced pregnancy + “you think your father would still love you if he knew?”+ Reader is mayor's daughter and get caught by Lee) smoking weed , so she is forced to give her purity to him +  Reader is a sweet innocent girl that refuses Bodecker's advances, which makes him very angry so he forcefully gets her pregnant in a fucked up revenge plot to ruin her life and leave her as the scarlet letter in town.  Requested by anon and @jaceyneedsabetterusername​

You puffed the smoke and coughed it up in a painful cloud. Your throat burned as the acrid taste stained your tongue. You held out the burning joint to Darla and she chuckled as she watched you struggle. She took a log drag and blew rings in the air and handed it off to Mia.

“A whole year at college and you ain’t never tried it,” Darla teased, “what are ya doin’ up there?”

“Studying,” you rubbed your throat and refused another hit as your eyes watered, “you know how my daddy is.”

“Your daddy ain’t livin’ on campus, is he?” Mia trilled, “perfect little mayor’s daughter with her purity ring.”

“Shut up,” you growled, “if I got caught I’d be expelled, okay? I’m here now tryin’ it, aren’t I?”

“Ain’t ya?” Darla mocked, “is that how you talk now? So proper.”

“Christ, what’s gotten into you?” you waved away the smoke as she blew it in your face, “you miss me that much?”

“Nah,” she gave the stubby joint to Mia, “you just actin’ like you’re too good for us now.”

“How so? I’ve been nothing but nice--”

“Nice and sweet and perfect,” Darla muttered, “you running back to your dorm in the fall and I gotta wipe tables down as the eat-in.”

You were quite as her resent bit deep into you. It wasn’t like you made the decision yourself, your daddy would have skinned you if you hadn’t gone up to the all-girls academy. He held a prestigious office, he often reminded you, and you were just another merit on his record. You needed uphold his reputation as if it were your own.

Mia snorted dryly and offered you the joint again. Her face dropped as an arm reached around you, her reddened eyes glossy as the dwindling smoke was taken from her. You turned and backed away as the sheriff waved the joint in front of him and sniffed the air.

“I knew I smelled contraband,” his jaw ticked and his brow lifted as he eyed the three of you, “and you,” he pointed at you, “of all the girls in town, it had to be you?”

You looked at Darla and Mia as they blinked at the cop. Lee Boedecker was known for his cruel-streak and no-nonsense tolerance. You knew him as the pudgy, old man who tried to buy you a drink as you still wore your graduation cap. You remembered that day and the odd episode, how he scowled and stomped away, shaking your father’s hand on the way out of the diner.

“All this shit you’re bringin’ down from the city, huh?” he flicked the joint to the ground and blotted it out with his sole.

“N-no, I--” you looked back and forth between Mia and Darla.

“You two,” he pointed at them, “you go on.”

“What?” Mia quivered, “but--”

“You let me deal with her,” he waved her off as he gripped his gun belt, “just lookin’ out for the mayor’s daughter.”

The other girls peeked at you and slowly backed away. You watched them fearfully and as they disappeared around the front of the building, you turned back to the sheriff. He tutted as he shook his head and came closer.

“Won’t that be a scene? Tellin’ your daddy what I found you doin’,” he snickered.

“I… I wasn’t, I only--”

“I don’t care what you was only doin’,” he snorted, “I don’t… have to tell him but you’re gonna have to convince me not to.”

You blinked at him and frowned. You weren’t sure of his meaning and you surely didn’t want to find out. You backed away and he caught your arm.

“Now where’d you get that stuff?” he looked down at the crushed joint.

“It’s not mine,” you quavered, “I swear--”

“No?” he swung you against the wall and knocked the air out of you, “you sure you don’t know, now?”

You shook your head fearfully. You wouldn’t say it Darla who rolled it and lit it but you weren’t going to sell yourself down the river either. He slammed his hand above your shoulder and rested his other on his pistol as he loomed over you.

“Which one was it then? Pretty little college girl…” he purred, “a good girl, tell me which one of ‘em had it.”

You shook your head and pressed yourself to the wall, “I don’t know. Please, sheriff--”

“Please, sheriff,” he unholstered his gun and raised the muzzle. He steadied it against your chin and pushed your head up, “it was just a drink, sweetheart.”

“Sheriff, I--”

“You think you too good for me ‘cause your daddy,” he dragged the gun down your chest and along your stomach, “‘cause he sendin’ you away to read books?”

“No, no, what are you--”

He shushed you as he pushed the gun lower and hooked it under your skirt. He shoved his hand under your skirt and poked your vee with the metal nosebarrel

“I’d hate to ruin ya like that,” he sneered, “but I s’pose up at that fancy college, you got some good use.”

You shook your head and trembled as tears pricked and your nose tingled. He chuckled and leaned in to kiss your forehead. He wiggled the pistol between your thighs.

“No? You think your little act works on me?”

“I-- sheriff, please, I never--”

“Hmmm,” he hummed and inhaled the scent of your hair, “you ain’t no good girl.”

You sniffed as the tears rolled down your cheeks, your heart beating wildly as you waited for him to pull the trigger. He prodded more firmly and lowered his voice.

“How about I drive you back to your daddy’s and discuss this with him?”

Your eyes rounded as his blue ones caught them with a vicious gleam. You sobbed and shivered.

“If-- If you gotta--”

“Come on,” he pulled his gun away and yanked you off the wall.

He marched you down the alley and pushed you into his cruiser. He slammed the door and dropped into the front seat. He leaned to one side as he holstered his gun and clapped his hand over the wheel. He looked at you in the mirror.

“You sure you don’t wanna tell me the truth?” he asked.

“I did--”

“No,” he interrupted you, “you shut up if you ain’t gonna tell me straight.”

He started the car and rolled down the street. You shrunk into the seat afraid that someone might spot you through the window. He steered through the town and headed up the hill to your daddy’s house. You watched the trees around you as his thick breaths were laced with heated mutters.

He pulled off halfway up and idled between a pair of elms, “you can still keep my mouth shut, sweetheart.” You blinked at the mirror and he turned and stretched his arm over the back of the seat. He grinned at you and licked his lips. “What d’ya think your daddy will do?”

You hung your head. Your daddy would be so mad he’d lock you up for the rest of the summer, or worse, pull out his old switch. Your lip quivered and you sniffed as you wiped your cheeks with your cuffs.

“You want me to tell him?” Lee asked.

You peered up through your lashes at him and shook your head. He nodded and killed the engine. The car jolted as he got out and slammed his door. He opened the back and bent to look in on your with his hand on the roof.

“Right then, on your back,” he ordered.

“What--”

“If you don’t want me to tell him, you gotta keep me quiet, now lay down, sweetheart,” he reached to his belt and unbuckled it with one hand, “it’ll be quick, promise, then you can go back to bein’ a good girl.”

“Sheriff,” you kicked yourself across the seat and lunged for the other door.

He caught your ankle and dragged you back. He flipped you onto your back and crawled over you, his weight suffocating as he posted his knees between your legs.

“That’s the thing, you can keep me quiet or I can make you scream and tell your daddy anyway,” he warned as he fought with your flailing hands, “it all goes the same way, got it?”

You stilled and stared up at him. It was as if he’d slapped you. Your eyes overflowed and he brought his hand up to trace the streaks with his thumb.

“You’re so sweet,” he ran his hand down to your dress and groped your through the fabric, “mmm, so sweet.”

You tensed as he pushed his hand between your bodies and lifted himself as he pressed his fingers to your cunt. He tugged your skirt up impatiently and rubbed along the front of your underwear. You turned your head and swallowed a sob.

“I woulda been nice, taken you out proper,” he pushed his fingers under the cotton and you gasped as he caressed your folds, “you coulda been a sheriff’s wife, you coulda made your daddy proud.”

He poked his fingers inside you so roughly you whimpered. He pulled them in and out even as your body resisted. He sank to his knuckles and squeezed until you cried out.

“Now you can take my bastard home to him,” he snarled and tore his hand out of your knickers.

He unzipped his pants and wriggled as he shimmied them down. Still trapped beneath his weight, you stared at the back of the leather seat as your tears hovered on your lashes. He grunted as he ripped your panties down to your knees. He stretched the cotton between your legs as he bent them and rested on the fabric.

Bent beneath him, you closed your eyes as he felt around your cunt. He pushed his knees against your ass and lined up with your entrance. You clenched as he prodded and struggled to get his tip inside of you. He swore and leaned heavily on the elbow planted beside your head.

“Now, don’t make this harder than--” He bucked into you so hard you hollered. He smothered it with his hand and held himself deep inside of you, “you weren’t lyin’ about the boys, were you?”

You squeezed your eyes tight and he wiggled until you squirmed. He pulled back and rammed back into you roughly, groaning as he did. He waited and did it again, each thrust reverberated up your spine.

“You think your father would still love you if he knew?” he rasped, “huh, what you think everyone will say? That whore went up to the city and got a child on her.”

“P-p-please,” you whispered as you pushed on his chest, “it… hurts.”

“Oh, it gon’ hurt, sweetheart,” he growled, “but it didn’t have to.” He hissed as he kept his hips moving, “you made it this way.”

“I can’t-- don’t-- I can’t have a ba--”

“You gonna have my baby,” he sneered and hooked his arm under you, “you gonna carry me with you the rest of your life,” the car shook with his movement, “it was only a drink, sweetheart… one drink.”

👮👮👮

Please reblog and like! Let me know what you think.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Sufficiently strong emotionally-charged moments of physical contact can occasionally forge long-term telepathic bonds between cultivators. These bonds are usually based on positive emotions like familial or romantic love, or deep feelings of friendship, but the emotions don’t necessarily have to be positive to forge a bond. Wei Wuxian is very upset to find out that punching Jin Zixuan in the face apparently counts as a sufficiently strong emotionally-charged moment of physical contact.

on ao3

Wei Wuxian had been obsessed with the idea of a resonant bond ever since he first learned about it.

Sure, it was a rarity. It was easier for a cultivator to find a friend, a lover, or even a soulmate than it was for them to create a resonant bond, which required not merely liking or understanding or even love but rather a single moment in time in which two cultivators were on exactly the same wavelength.

Their cultivation strength, their frame of mind, the state of their bodies, the exact way in which they touched – in that one moment, everything would be exactly the same, and the Heavens would forget for that brief moment to see the two as separate, like two separate raindrops merging into one before the moment passed, some difference introduced, and they were broken apart into separate beings again. Yet even after they separated, they would irrevocably retain some aspects of the other, a connection that generally manifested, it was said, as a mental bond that could not be broken, a tie that would keep them bound together no matter the distance.

Such a thing could not be worked towards, only hoped for; it was a matter of luck.

Wei Wuxian had never wanted anything more in his life.

The thought of never being alone again – it enticed him, it excited him. Jiang Cheng could wrinkle his nose in distaste at the idea that he might not be alone in his mind anymore, that someone would see all the stupid or terrible things he sometimes thought, but to Wei Wuxian that was the best part: that someone would see you and know you and you would see and know them, too. To have someone to accompany you through the best and worst moments of your life, always at your side…

To never fear abandonment, to never need to worry about someone going out only for a little and then never coming back.

It would be amazing.

That was what Wei Wuxian thought.

Well, that was what he thought right up until he punched Jin Zixuan in the face for insulting his shijie, his whole heart burning at the unfairness of adults who didn’t understand, at other boys who didn’t appreciate what they had, at everything all around them and at his own weakness in not being able to do more, and something just –

Clicked.

-

“Hey, wake up! Wake up! Are you all right?”

Wei Wuxian opened his eyes, only to be assaulted with what felt like double vision. Above him were Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang, hovering and looking anxious, and from the corner of his eye he could see Lan Wangji, who he so enjoyed teasing, was sweeping over to them with a grim expression – and yet at the same time he thought he could perceive different faces above him as well.

Three young men and two women, all looking down at him with smiles like sharks, ready to devour. Each one of them draped in the gold they lusted to take from his hands –

What the fuck? Wei Wuxian thought groggily. How did I end up on the ground?

Good question. I didn’t think I got punched that hard.

Wait, Wei Wuxian thought. Hold up, I got punched? I didn’t even see the peacock lift his fists!

…Wei Wuxian? Is that – you?

Wei Wuxian’s eyes went wide when he realized he hadn’t said any of that out loud, that to judge from Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang’s chatter they hadn’t heard either him nor the other voice. Which meant that the voice had to be...in his head. Is this – this is a resonant bond. We formed a resonant bond!

Shit, Jin Zixuan thought, because it was Jin Zixuan, wasn’t it? Shit, shit, shit. Please don’t say anything about this to anyone!

What? Why?

Please!

Wei Wuxian hadn’t even known that the peacock knew that word.

Fine, he said, feeling generous on account of the whole bond business. I won’t tell. For now.

“Wei-xiong?” Nie Huaisang asked, looking worriedly fretful. “Are you all right? You haven’t said anything.”

“I’m fine,” he said, rubbing his head and trying to think of a lie to explain why he fell over like that. “I think the peacock must’ve had a talisman or a defensive weapon or something. Whatever it is, I’m fine now.”

“Good. I’m glad you’re all right,” Jiang Cheng said, looking deeply relieved. And then, a moment later – “Because I’m going to kill you - !”

There wasn’t too much time to talk after that. Wei Wuxian was sentenced to kneeling, and then his Uncle Jiang arrived and Sect Leader Jin arrived – oh no, oh no, oh no, I fucked up, Jin Zixuan thought hopelessly, and Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but feel a bit of the same – and the next thing Wei Wuxian knew, the engagement between Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli was broken and he was being sent to pack up his things, to be taken home at once.

Jin Zixuan was swept away by his father, too.

“A pity about the engagement,” Sect Leader Jin remarked idly as they walked together. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have said such a thing. Your mother will be disappointed.”

Wei Wuxian could feel the way that that jabbed at Jin Zixuan’s heart like a stab with a sword.

“Still, it’s no harm,” the man continued, indifferently ignoring the impact his words had had on his son. “One could even call it a gain! You won’t be burdened down with that shrew’s daughter anymore.”

That what?!

Tune out of this conversation, please, Jin Zixuan said, his thoughts dull and sluggish and resigned. It’s going to get worse from here on out.

It did.

Sect Leader Jin commented at some great length about his views on Madame Yu’s many faults – her temper, her strength, her nosiness, her thought that she was worth anything other than a pair of legs and an inheritance – and contrasted it with some salacious comments on her positive traits – mostly the legs, with a few comments on the upper half as well – and then he started speculating about Jiang Yanli, too, in a way that made Wei Wuxian’s blood boil.

It’s not about her, Jin Zixuan told him, his voice a little desperate in a familiar way – he was used to having to defend his father, and just as obviously didn’t want to. He’s building up a defense.

What?

For my mother. She’ll be angry at him for agreeing to break the engagement, so he’ll say that it was my idea, say all this stuff, and then she’ll be angry at me for believing it, instead, even though I don’t. This isn’t what I wanted at all.

Wei Wuxian frowned. You wanted to marry my shijie? You sure didn’t show it!

No, I just didn’t want to marry anybody, Jin Zixuan said, and…okay, fine, that was a pretty respectable position. Wei Wuxian didn’t particularly want to marry anyone yet, either. I just got angry when everyone was talking about how it was a done deal, that’s all. Just one more thing that got picked for me.

Wei Wuxian had heard Jiang Cheng complain about similar enough things – how much of his life was selected in advance, how much was organized for the benefit of his sect rather than his own interests, how little choice he got. How even if he’d been as good as Wei Wuxian, or even better, he still wouldn’t have been able to go out and hunt pheasants all day the way Wei Wuxian did.

He refused to feel sympathy. Well, you shouldn’t have taken it out on my shijie!

Probably not. Jin Zixuan was silent for a moment. It probably doesn’t help, but I’m sorry for my rudeness.

Wei Wuxian hated it when people were reasonable. It made it so much harder to stay angry at them.

Are you going to tell me why I can’t tell people about this bond yet? he asked. You’d better have a good reason, I had to put up with an entire scolding from Jiang Cheng because I didn’t have a good excuse!

Later tonight. I promise.

That night, Wei Wuxian excused himself early and hid himself in his room on the boat. He knew that he was giving both Uncle Jiang and Jiang Cheng the impression that he was feeling deeply guilty about having broken the engagement, thereby making them feel bad about it, which he didn’t intend, but he really wanted to hear the reason. If it wasn’t good enough, he’d really break Jin Zixuan’s nose this time!

It really is a good reason!

Well, then? If it’s so good, don’t keep me in suspense!

Jin Zixuan sighed. Wei Wuxian felt it like an exhalation on his cheek, as if Jin Zixuan were right there beside him. You know how a resonant bond is supposed to be equal?

What do you mean ‘supposed to be’? Wei Wuxian asked, and felt something cold in his belly.

There are forbidden techniques, ancient ones, that are designed to manipulate a resonant bond into an unequal state. To make one side the master and the other the slave.

That’s disgusting!

If we told anyone, my father would find a way to get one, Jin Zixuan said, and he wasn’t guessing. His voice was utterly certain. There’s very little money can’t buy, and he wouldn’t be able to resist the idea of having a spy in the very heart of the Jiang clan.

Well, then just don’t tell him!

Just like I didn’t tell him about what I said about your shijie?

Wei Wuxian got tripped up by that. It was true, Jin Zixuan hadn’t said a word about what had happened, and yet his father had already known every last detail. How..?

One of my ‘friends’ told him, of course. Probably more than one, actually – I wouldn’t be surprised if they all passed it along. It’s what he pays them for.

He pays for your friends to spy on you?!

I already told you that there’s little money can’t buy. Why not friends?

I wouldn’t be friends with people who accepted money to spy on me. Why do you?

If it’s not this set, it’ll be another, and it’s all the same. If they won’t be bought, then I can’t be friends with them…anyway, I’ve gotten used to these ones.

All of them? Wei Wuxian asked. Even Mianmian? She didn’t seem the type…

Her name is Luo Qingyang, and yes. Her parents are sick and my father’s paying for the treatment; if she doesn’t tell him everything, he’ll cut off funds…she told me about it, though. Said that if there was ever a time that I wanted her to ‘forget’ to report something, she could do that. That’s more than most would do, and probably about as much as anyone can expect –

Have you ever had a friend that wasn’t bought? Wei Wuxian asked. I mean…ever?

Jin Zixuan was silent.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

Well, I guess you have me now, Wei Wuxian thought, with only a tiny amount of self-pity for the stupidity of agreeing to be friends with Jin Zixuan. Still, if he’d survived his efforts at being Lan Wangji’s friend, he could survive anything. No one’s going to buy me!

But –

Nope! No take-backs! We have a resonant bond, peacock. You think I’m going to waste a gift from the Heavens like this just because it’s with you? You’ve got another thing coming!

…can you at least stop calling me a peacock?!

-

Madame Yu made her displeasure clear enough when Wei Wuxian returned, ordering him to kneel all night and do every available chore and things like that, but Wei Wuxian didn’t take it to heart – he never did, really.

Like Jiang Cheng, Madame Yu’s bark was worse than her bite: for all that she hissed and spat and punished him with kneeling or holding up weights, she’d never denied him resources, kept him back from training, or even denied him the spot of head disciple to promote another less qualified in his place, which she very well might have if she were a bit pettier.

So he didn’t take it personally, even if Jin Zixuan seemed indignant on his behalf – you were defending her daughter! You’d think she’d give you some leeway for that, at least! – and at any rate it was better than Jin Zixuan’s slow meandering way home, with his father disappearing every night into a brothel or the bedroom of some innkeeper’s daughter or something like that.

It was better than Jin Zixuan’s mother’s reaction, too, which was to scream and shout and say vicious nasty things, to smash plates and vases against the walls right over his head, and then to pull him into her arms and make him promise over and over again that he would never betray her.

I think I suffered more in terms of physical exertion, but you get full points for all the emotional devastation, Wei Wuxian said after Jin Zixuan returned to hide in his bedroom. Does she do that a lot?

All the time, Jin Zixuan said. All the fucking time.

After a moment, he added, guiltily, It’s only that she loves me –

Ugh, don’t even start with that, Wei Wuxian said. Complaining about awful parent-related trauma is boring, I get enough of it from Jiang Cheng. Help me figure out what I should do tomorrow: flying kites, swimming, or hunting pheasants? Oh, or fishing!

…seriously? Do you spend any time cultivating?

Oh, come on. It’s my first day back!

That just means you have more you need to catch up on!

-

Your shijie is really nice.

I told you!

You didn’t! You just hit me!

-

Wei Wuxian loved having a resonant bond.

Sure, it wasn’t with someone useful like Jiang Cheng or even wonderful like Lan Wangji – I can hear you, you know – but it was kind of nice to have someone to complain to when it would be awkward to put it onto Jiang Cheng or Jiang Yanli.

The other half being Jin Zixuan was also not as bad as he had first thought it would be. Sure, he was just as spoiled, arrogant, vain, and deeply cynical about human nature as Wei Wuxian had thought – I can still hear you! – but he was also an awkward introvert with no social skills and an over-active guilt complex – fuck you too, Wei Wuxian – and, in the sum total of things, surprisingly tolerable. Thanks? I think?

It’d certainly made the indoctrination camp more tolerable, even if it did mean having two people talking in his ear about how he needed to think more about the consequences of his actions and how it might reflect on his sect, and certainly having Jin Zixuan confirming that the other disciples had made it out of the cave and were moving at full speed to try to get help made the days he was waiting with Lan Wangji a lot less stressful, and their ensuing rescue a lot easier.

But sometimes –

This is a terrible idea! You can’t do it!

You don’t get a say! Wei Wuxian snarled. This is my decision.

Fuck you, Jin Zixuan said. A moment later, quieter: Is this because I couldn’t make it to you in time to help?

Wei Wuxian swallowed, feeling his eyes burn. The Wen attack was a surprise to everyone, he said. Even if you were able to convince your father to let you go help with everyone you had, it wouldn’t – you wouldn’t have made it in time to do anything.

After his father had refused, Jin Zixuan had snuck out of Jinlin Tower through what he’d thought was a secret passage and tried to go anyway, only to be caught and dragged back. Wei Wuxian appreciated the effort, even if it didn’t make a difference in the end.

When they were on the run from the Wen sect, after, Jin Zixuan had encouraged Wei Wuxian to head to Lanling, swearing that he wouldn’t allow anyone to turn them over to the Wen sect, but they hadn’t gotten that far.

And now…

It’s my choice, Wei Wuxian said. You don’t get a say.

Fuck you, Jin Zixuan said again, but his voice was softer. Fine. But I’m here for you.

Wei Wuxian smiled, just a little bit, and told to Wen Qing to start.

-

I’m going to murder my father, Jin Zixuan said, conversationally. And then go to the hell reserved for patricides and be reborn as a chicken right before slaughter.

For shame, Wei Wuxian said. Not even a lamb or a goat?

No, I want to be able to bite someone and mean it, and chickens are better at that than goats.

Wei Wuxian giggled, a little hysterically. It’s fine, he said, looking around the Burial Mounds. It’s fine that he won’t let you come to my rescue immediately. Not like I’m going anywhere.

He’d thought – they’d both thought – that the resonant bond would break or maybe transfer to Jiang Cheng along with Wei Wuxian’s golden core, but it hadn’t.

Wei Wuxian had been depressingly grateful for it, for the by now familiar Lanling cadence of Jin Zixuan in his head. It made the horrible quiet empty of the Burial Mounds a little more tolerable, a little less awful.

Anyway, he said briskly, shaking off his terror at being here alone but for the voice in his head. I have an idea…

-

I feel like if I knew Chifeng-zun looked like that I would’ve made befriending Nie Huaisang more of a priority when I was younger.

I know, right? Wei Wuxian thought back. Just…wow.

A moment later, he added, a little irritably, I thought you were into my shijie again?

I am! I’m allowed to have eyes, okay?

Not if you’re surnamed Jin you aren’t.

Fuck you.

Nope. And Chifeng-zun isn’t going to, either.

He could feel Jin Zixuan rolling his eyes. I don’t even want him to, I was really just looking. Anyway, how’s Lan Wangji doing?

Lan Zhan? He’s – well, he’s always bothering me about going back to Gusu with him, talking about how my demonic cultivation is dangerous to me, but oh, you should have seen him when he joins us to fight..! You can forgive anything, really, just to watch him move – Wei Wuxian paused. Wait, why are you asking?

No reason.

Jin Zixuan! You tell me this instant -

-

Jin Zixuan was locking Wei Wuxian out of his head again.

It was a technique they’d worked on developing together – with some assistance from Wei Wuxian’s brilliance and Jin Zixuan’s ability to find and purchase extremely rare reference texts, whether on resonant bonds or just more generally, including when Wei Wuxian had needed some help figuring out some things about demonic cultivation while trapped on the Burial Mounds – as it had become moderately urgent following Jin Zixuan’s first spring dream involving Jiang Yanli, and even more so once he’d decided that he really did want to marry her, actually, if she’d be willing to have him.

There were some things Wei Wuxian did not need to know about his shijie.

Still, it was unusual for him to block him during the day. One might even call it suspicious.

I’m sorry, Jin Zixuan said abruptly. It had to be done, and you weren’t going to do it.

Huh? What are you talking about…?

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng shouted, and Wei Wuxian turned, surprised. His shidi’s eyes were red as if he’d been crying, and he ran up and pulled him into his arms. “Wei Wuxian…!”

“What?” he asked, puzzled. “What’s this about…?”

“How could you?!” Jiang Cheng demanded, weeping into his neck. “You should have told me – you had no right to – to give me – Wei Wuxian!”

Wei Wuxian’s back went stiff. You didn’t!

It was the truth or you getting kicked out of your sect! He needed to know!

Fuck you! It wasn’t your choice to make!

I’m not going to stand by and let you get schemed against, Jin Zixuan said. Certainly not by my own father. I won’t!

I’m going to make you pay for this, Wei Wuxian said darkly, then looked down at Jiang Cheng in his arms. And possibly thank you for it. But I’m definitely going to make you pay!

-

This may sound weird, Jin Zixuan said. But I think I’m being poisoned.

Based on what I know about Lanling Jin sect and its politics, it’s not weird at all, Wei Wuxian said instinctively, then frowned. Are you serious? It’s not just baby fatigue or something?

That’s what I thought at first, too. But now I’m not so sure. He was silent for a moment. I don’t want to sound like my mother, but…

You think it’s Lianfeng-zun? I’m not saying he doesn’t have the most motive for it, but do you really think..? He seems so nice.

He is, most of the time. Jin Zixuan sighed. Maybe I really am just tired.

Wei Wuxian didn’t think so. He’d had a half-dozen years of listening to the backstabbing, vicious world of Jinlin Tower under his belt by now – had fought bitterly in the war only to fight even more bitterly for something like the right to attend his own shijie’s wedding, something that ought to have been his by right – had nearly suffered an ambush when he tried to attend Jin Ling’s first month party, with Jin Zixun attacking him and Wen Ning going unexpectedly crazy and Jin Zixuan rushing over as fast as he could to make them all stop. If he hadn’t already known about Jin Zixuan not knowing about this, if he hadn’t felt something go wrong and thrown himself in between them without thinking, Jin Zixuan might’ve died there and then on the Qiongqi path.

If Jin Zixuan thought he was being poisoned, he was probably being poisoned.

I’ll come visit you and look into it, Wei Wuxian said. We can pretend that I’m there to visit shijie.

They’d long ago confessed the truth to Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, of course. For some reason, neither had looked all that surprised.

With your reputation, even if you figured something out, who’d believe you? Jin Zixuan asked. Ask Hanguang-jun if he’ll come, his reputation will bear up.

Lan Zhan? Sure! I’m always happy to work with him. But you know, he’s been ignoring me recently…I don’t know why…

Tell him about the resonant bond.

What? I thought we were still keeping it a secret.

Tell him. He doesn’t tell anyone anything.

Good point, I guess. You think that’ll help him stop ignoring me?

Yes.

Wei Wuxian generally trusted Jin Zixuan’s reading of people, now that he was mature enough not to let his personal feelings cloud his judgment. All right, I will. Can you tell me why?

You’ll find out when you tell him.

Unhelpful.

Noted and ignored.

Fuck you.

Yeah, you too. See you soon.

-

Jin Zixuan?

Yeah?

Thank you for my love life, but also, FUCK YOU.

[rapsgoddess]

Washing Machine Heart Part 1. (Erik Killmonger x OC)

This is unedited so please have mercy on me in the notes 😭

Nahla knew she didn’t mean a thing to him. Next to being a mercenary, Erik was a player. He came and went as he pleased, spent his nights with more than one woman, and didn’t feel a single shred of regret whenever his girls would pour out their hearts to him. 

Nahla knew she didn’t mean a single thing to him, yet she still somehow fell in love. 

It was a painful realization. One that she came to during one of Erik’s many long term absences. It was another sleepless night for her and she was sitting in bed with her laptop open to her right and her keyboard directly in front of her. For the past week, the same melody had been on loop inside her head. A broken tune that conveyed so much sorrow that it nearly brought her to tears whenever she hummed it. Each day after she got home from work, she would add onto the melody bit by bit, putting in different instruments and sounds to create a beautiful symphony. 

When it came time to write lyrics for the song, all she could envision was a tune about unrequited love. The same unrequited love that she had been feeling for a while. 

It wasn’t until she put a name to that feeling when she finally realized how she truly felt about Erik. 

She decided to try and keep things suppressed for a while, hoping that her childish feelings of romance would disappear after a few days. 

They didn’t. 

When Erik returned a few weeks later, she didn’t, know how to act. The man made it known that he was not committed to anybody, and Nahla was no exception. On the rare occasion Nahla would catch a glimpse of him on social media, she would see him surrounded by women who looked as if they could be models. Women who were leagues ahead of her. The photos never failed to resurrect her insecurities. They made her question why Erik even bothered to give her the time of day. Yet those insecurities melted away whenever he came to visit her. 

Flash forward to the present, and Nahla found herself laying next to Erik’s naked frame in her bed. The faint sound of her washing machine echoed throughout the house, giving a sort of rhythmic banging as her shoes tussled around inside. The night was still fairly young, having only been a few minutes past seven, but all of the plans that Nahla had for that evening were discarded the moment Erik showed up on her doorstep. 

It didn’t take much for his words to lull her into bed and for his lips on hers to enrapture her. His low, smooth voice was like music to her ears, and her moans being music to his. Each praise that left his lips was like a toxic lullaby. Nahla knew that he had repeated the same words to dozens of women in the past, yet in the moment, they made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world. 

“You feel so good around me baby…”

“You don’t know how much I missed this pussy.”

“Say my name so everybody know who’s fuckin’ you right.” 

Thinking back to his words sent shivers down her spine. She was wide awake, restless and too excited to fall asleep. It was rare for Erik to stay after having sex, let alone fall asleep before her, but her inner turmoil prevented her from falling asleep. 

She turned back to look over at Erik, taking in every aspect of his being as if it were the last time she would see him again. No matter how many times she laid eyes on him, she would never be able to find the words to describe how beautiful he was. He had a smile that could light up a room and warm eyes that made her heart flutter each time she looked into them. It often left her wondering why exactly he even entertained the thought of her when he was way out of her league. 

A heavy sigh left Nahla’s lips and she threw the covers off the lower half of her body. She looked back at Erik one last time while putting on her robe, making sure that he stayed asleep. Slowly and quietly, she crept out of the room and down the hall to her makeshift studio, closing the door behind her and turning on the lights. She used her studio as an escape from both the real world and her own mind, and right then she needed an escape from both. Turning on her equipment and opening up her laptop, she opened up the file that held her latest project. The one that helped her come to her realization in the first place. She made sure the speakers were low as to not wake Erik up and pressed play, listening to her voice blend with the gentle melody. 

She had only written a few lines so far and could feel the next verse just on the tip of her tongue, but lyricism had never really been her strong suit. Muttering random words under her breath, she opened up the notes section on GarageBand and began writing down whatever sounded nice, replacing and adding words where she deemed fit. 

“Might as well give it a go,” she sighed, getting up from her chair and walking over to the small corner where her mic and the rest of her recording equipment was set up. She pressed record on an empty track and began singing the second verse, her voice coming out soft and almost broken in contrast to her usual strong, belty tone. She was tired, both physically and emotionally, but she couldn’t walk back to that room. Not with him still laying asleep in her bed as if the two of them were a couple. 

After a few more takes, she had finally gotten her voice warmed up enough to where it didn’t sound completely like shit and she walked over to her work station to edit the track on top the music. 

With her mind now completely engulfed in her music, she didn’t noticed the sound of her toilet flushing or her bathroom sink running down the hall. She didn’t notice the sound of footsteps leading to her studio and her door opening slightly. 

It wasn’t until the feeling of a hand snaking its way around her neck drew her from her work as she jumped in her seat while clutching her chest in panic.

“Whatchu scared for? It’s just me,” Erik muttered, his voice still laced with drowsiness. “What are you doing up? Any other day you’d be knocked out.” His fingers gently squeezed at her neck and he leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of her head. It was weirdly intimate of him.

“I couldn’t sleep so I decided to work on something.” Nahla spun her seat around to face him. He had on a pair of low hanging shorts. She recognized them as being one of the pairs she bought for him whenever he decided to stay over. She mentally scoffed at the thought; buying clothes for a man who she wasn’t even in a relationship with. 

“You’re not leaving?” She asked. It had just dawned on her that, miraculously, Erik was still there. 

“Nah. I haven’t seen you in a while so I figured I’d stay for a little bit.” 

The sentiment made her heart flutter but she quickly grounded herself back to reality. She couldn’t afford to get her hopes up. 

“So, what are you working on?” He asked, his arms folded across his chest as he looked past her and at the open editing software on her computer. 

“Oh. Well I had a melody that was stuck in my head for a while so I put it down and write lyrics. I lowkey wanna find a mini orchestra to record it though.” 

“Well can I hear it?” He suggested. 

Nahla’s eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. Despite knowing each other for the better part of two years now, this was the most he had ever expressed genuine interest in her music. 

“U-Uhh, I’m not sure… I get really sensitive about my stuff. Plus it’s not what you’d expect it to be,” she said, swirling her chair back around to face her work station as she hesitantly placed her hand on the mouse  and moved the cursor over the “play” button. After taking a deep breath, she played the song and closed her eyes as she waited for it to be over. Throughout the entirety of what little she had to play, Erik was silent, giving no response, comment, or critiques. When it was over, she reluctantly turned around to face him. 

“So? What do you think?”

“Yeah, I can definitely hear an orchestra going behind that. Maybe start off with piano first, then bring in strings or some shit during the hook,” he suggested, walking over to the other chair in the corner of her studio and sitting down. 

“Okay. Thanks.”

For about an hour or two, the two of them stayed up in her studio talking about random things while sharing a blunt together. They eventually migrated back to the bedroom and made their way beneath the covers together, Nahla’s body molding perfectly into Erik’s as they cuddled. 

“Nah, I’m deadass. I thought I had locked his cage, but he always finds a way to get out,” Nahla giggled, referring to her pet chameleon who always managed to get out of his cage. “I remember a few day ago I had just woken up and went into the kitchen to get some juice and I see him inside the sink just sitting there. Then he have the nerve to look up at me like ‘what are you doing here?’ No sir, what are you doing here.” 

Erik laughed softly while shaking his head. “Nah, I don’t think I could handle an animal just freely roaming my shit like that.”

“You get used to it after a while. I was low-key thinking about getting a snake too, but I gotta figure out where to put the tank.”

“Oh hell nah. If you get a snake, I’m not coming by anymore.”

“What?! You used to be a whole Navy Seal and you’re scared of snakes, E?” She asked, a bit surprised that he even shared that information with her. 

“Girl, I don’t know how you can even stand them things,” he mumbled, “slithering around and shit. What if it gets out when you’re sleep and starts choking you?”

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” she giggled, earning an eye roll from Erik. 

Though it didn’t seem possible, she pressed herself against Erik even harder, somehow managing to get even closer to him. Resting her head in the crook of his neck, she had a perfect view of the many scars and keloids that littered his body. She could tell some of them are new. Whether or not they were accidental or self inflicted, she didn’t want to know. 

It was times like these where Nahla wished that her outlandish fantasies of romance weren’t fantasies at all. Having never been in a real relationship before, she constantly longed to be loved by someone in a romantic sense. Though she knew that Erik probably never thought of her as more than a fuck buddy, it was nice to feel his warmth underneath her. Even if it was an illusion, it was nice to imagine him as her lover while he was holding her close. 

“What’s on your mind?” He pried, letting out a deep sigh before closing his eyes and relaxing his muscles. 

“Where do you go when you disappear?” She partially lied. Even though that wasn’t what truly was on her mind, it was still a question that lingered over her head for a while. 

“That, I can’t tell you ma. At least not right now.” 

She wasn’t satisfied with how curt his reply was. Sitting up, she supported her head with her hand, her elbow buried into the pillow beside his head as she peered down at him. 

“You can tell me,” she pried. A childish grin spread across her face. “If it’s something illegal I promise I won’t tell.”

Erik peaked one up up at her, a smile of his own taking over his featured. He pushed his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “Mm… Maybe I could tell you a little bit. I don’t even know where to begin though without you thinkin’ I’m crazy.”

“I won’t think you’re crazy.”

“You say that now.” There was a pregnant pause, and then, in the most serious tone ever, he said, “I’m apart of African royalty.”

“So there’s this country in Africa called Wakanda. At first glance, it seems like a small lil third world country, but in reality, they’re the most advanced civilization on the planet. They got this metal called Vibranium that allows them to all sorts of things, but they keep it hidden from the rest of the world.”

“How? And if they kept it hidden from the world, then how do you know about it?”

“They have a dome that surrounds the entire country. It’s practically impenetrable. And the only reason I know is because my father was the prince. He was sent here on an undercover mission in America but quickly saw how shitty thing were here, so he wanted to change it. “

“Wait, your father is the prince of an African country?” Nahla couldn’t believe her ears. Despite being secretive and mysterious, she knew that Erik wasn’t one to lie. After all, what could he possibly gain from lying about something as far fetched as this?  

“Was. He was killed before he could enact any change; by his own brother no less.”

She could hear a pain and vulnerability in his voice that she’d never heard before. Now she definitely knew that he wasn’t lying. 

Erik’s face had turned to the side in a fruitless attempt to hide the tears that welled up in his eyes. He’d never brought up his family or much of his life before he met her in a conversation, and now she could see why. 

Hesitantly, Nahla reached up to wipe away the tears that left his eyes. “So you plan on going back and getting revenge?” She pondered. It would make sense why he’d want to stay under the radar,  having no social media accounts, no permanent phone number, and constantly disappearing for months at a time. If he wanted to infiltrate an entire hidden country, then he’d have to be the closest thing to a ghost a person could be. 

“It’s on the list,” he replied, sitting up in bed while resting back against the headboard. “But, my main goal is to change the world. Wakanda has technology and weapons that people can’t even begin fathom. If our people were able to get their hands on that kind of fire power, we wouldn’t have to worry about the White man oppressing us any longer.” 

The sadness that was once present in his eyes had long disappeared, instead being replaced with a burning passion. It filled her with joy to see him get passionate about something, but it also put her on edge. Nahla knew what his plan implied, and she didn’t put it past him to sacrifice countless lives in order to see his vision come to life.

Staying silent, she simply nodded, too afraid that she’d say the wrong thing if she opened her mouth. Tearing her gaze away from the man, she began contemplating on everything she had been thinking about prior to his arrival. Her feelings for him were still unwavering, but now she was starting to ponder on whether or not being with him was a wise decision. It didn’t take being a genius to know that Erik’s path was a set one. He was a determined, goal-driven man, and when his mind was made up, there was no convincing him to go back on his decision. 

If she followed him down that path, she wouldn’t be able to turn back. 

“Do I scare you?” 

Nahla looked back up only to be met with obsidian eyes boring straight into her deep brown ones. His question threw her for a loop, no doubt, considering how Erik was never one to be considerate of other people’s feelings. 

“H-Huh? What do you mean?” She knew exactly what he meant. 

“That look in your eyes… You’re scared of something. What is it?” He demanded in an eerily calm manner. 

Attempting to spare his feelings would be a futile decision; Erik read people like his favorite novel. Yet, for some reason, Nahla had no control over the words that left her mouth. 

She almost never did when she was around him. 

“Nothing. I just get a bit spooked in the dark,” she chuckled. 

Erik simply blinked at her, a look of uncertainty and doubt dancing around in his eye before he shrugged it off and laid back down in the bed, facing her completely. 

“You should get some rest. Goodnight,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving her. 

Upon hearing his words, Nahla felt an immense tiredness wash over her as if he casted a sleeping spell over her. She glanced over at the clock and noticed how it was nearly 4 AM. She had only three hours before she needed to get up and get ready for work. 

She was tired, but fear kept plaguing her mind. A fear that he wouldn’t be there when she woke up. Or, even worse, a fear that she had dreamt the entire night. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you wake up,” he whispered. 

Nahla wanted to believe him, so she did, closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.