#every instructor i had that year was like sucking my toes

[frengles]

i'm trying to start taking my life seriously again in a myriad of ways and i can sense that i am on my way to becoming slightly less fun again so as to achieve a more fulfilling 生活 and continue growing in the directions I want to. it's like a perennial thing. the last one was 2018-2019 if you've been tracking my personal psychology

[let-them-read-fics]

Blackpink HC / One Shots: Enemies to Lovers, College AU (1/2)

Requested: Yes

Warnings / Misc. -- Bickering, Rivalry, Fluff

A/N: Hey everyone! Anon, I assume you wanted to see each individual relationship with the girls and not OT4 x Reader. If not, I apologize, but I hope you enjoy this regardless.

This post includes Jisoo and Jennie. If you would like to see Rosé and Lisa's, click the link below.

Click for Rosé and Lisa

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Jisoo

Kim Jisoo: The girl at the top of her class, breezing through her school years with little competition whatsoever. She was used to winning, and anyone that ever tried to challenge her eventually gave up.

You: Also used to being at the top of your class, you were the first person to actually give Jisoo a run for her money. You didn't shy away when challenged by her, and that took her aback.

Your rivalry was one rooted in academics.

When a new project was assigned and you were allowed to choose your teammates, everyone would flock to the two of you in hopes of getting picked.

Bragging rights were awarded to whoever had the longest line of people.

Impatiently waiting to see who scored higher on tests.

Rubbing it in when you did better, and vice versa.

"Ha! Take that, Jisoo. I got a 98."

"Don't get cocky, Y/N. I beat you by 6 points last week."

"Yeah, yeah," you brush her off. "Look who's on top now." You hold your paper up, smiling when she rolls her eyes.

Other competitions were held, and even the teachers caught on and would adjust their lessons accordingly.

"Class, today we'll be having a set of one on one debates, and an anonymous vote will determine the winner of each. The person who defends their opinion the most effectively will win. Jisoo and Y/N, you're up first."

Although losing was always annoying, it made you respect each other a little more.

You both loathed and revered each other, though you'd never let that secret out.

Fighting for the best scholarships and rankings.

Constant bickering and one liners in class

"Should I go ahead and apologize now, or is it okay to wait?"

"Apoligize for what?"

"Ending your career."

*unintelligible mumbling*

"What was that, Y/N?" Jisoo inquires, cocking her head to the side as she narrows her eyes at you.

"I said: you're going down."

She scoffs at that, unaffected. "Please, I'd like to see you try."

You ended up winning that day, and she was all *surprised pikachu*

School would always be interesting and eventful with her

Pretty much everyone else can tell that you have a thing for one another, but the two of you remain oblivious.

Turning Point

Both of you joined the academic team when you enrolled, which meant that you'd be going toe to toe with other school teams in pursuit of the winning title.

On one of your overnight field trips to face off against another school, you were assigned to the same hotel room.

"Mrs. Wilson, I can't stay with her--" You walk down the hotel hallway behind your instructor, hoping she'll see your point. Her reasoning for putting you together on the roster is beyond you.

"Y/N, it's only for a night. You know we can't afford to give all of you individual rooms; our budget's already small." She reasons, eventually turning towards you when she reaches the elevator.

"Alright," you relent with a sigh, putting your hands up.

What she says next surprises you. "Who knows, you might enjoy it." A knowing look shines in her eye, and a small smirk threatens to tug at her features.

The elevator dings just as you go to question her about it, and she bids you farewell before heading in.

You can do this, Y/N. It's just one night; how bad can it be? You ask yourself, taking your sweet time in going back to the room.

---

An Hour Later

In an attempt to kill some time and recover from the fatigue your long road trip brought on, you've been trying to relax and take a nap. In fashion with your typical luck, though, Jisoo is making that nearly impossible.

"Jisoo, turn it down!" You groan, tossing a pillow at her head. She sits on the loveseat at the foot of your bed, completely fixated on the images flashing before her eyes as she plays her video game.

"Shhh, stop distracting me." She says over her shoulder, making you huff.

You value your pride too much to ask nicely, so you suck it up and stick it out for a little while longer. When she lets out a loud shout a few minutes later, though, you've reached the end of your patience.

Wordlessly, you get out of bed and stomp over to the TV, standing directly in front of it.

"Y/N, move! I'll lose!"

You stay there with your arms crossed, and are soon rewarded by the game's voiceover announcing: "Game over."

She huffs and sets her controller down, clearly upset.

"Sucks when people don't listen, huh?" You challenge, still mad that you've been denied a proper nap for so long. Every time you'd be right on the cusp of being drug under, slipping in and out of glorious slumber, she'd do something to ruin it. You're cranky now, and being petty seems like a just punishment for her.

"I can't believe you did that," she shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "That was the championship match!"

"Oh well," you shrug, a smirk tugging at your lips at that new piece of info. Perhaps justice has been served after all.

With one more warning glance at her to tell her not to do it again, you go back to the bed and get comfy, settling under the warm blankets.

---

30 Minutes Later

"ON YOUR RIGHT, ABOUT TO ROUND THE CORNER!" Jisoo bellows out, smirking when she feels you stir behind her. You scowl, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

"Jisoo, I swear to God," you grumble, feeling the irritation rise in you all over again. You get up again and approach her, but she has a plan this time. In one fluid motion, she sticks her foot out in front of you, making you stumble and fall to the ground.

"What the--" as you prepare to reprimand her, you see something out of your peripheral. Aided by your new perspective, you spot the remote controller on the coffee table right in front of you, just an arm's length away.

When Jisoo notices that you haven't screamed at her yet, she looks down and realizes her mistake. A dramatic moment passes where you both lock eyes, before immediately diving for the remote. You manage to get to it first, quickly hugging it close to your body and rolling away from her. She pounces a second later, reaching her hands around you to pry it from your grip.

"Give it back, Y/N!"

"No!"

You writhe underneath her until she manages to get the upper hand, straddling your hips in an attempt to pin you down. She sits back on her knees, gazing down at you as your chests heave from the effort you've exerted.

"Give it." She commands, holding her hand out expectantly.

You shake your head, amused that she thought that would be enough to sway you. "No."

"Then you leave me no choice." Her hands dart forward to your abdomen, and she begins tickling you mercilessly in order to make you surrender. Calls for her to cease her assault struggle past your lips, but you know it's futile. She's a determined person just like you, and she won't stop until she gets what she wants.

So, after taking a second to think of a way out of your predicament, a brilliant idea pops into your head.

You finally let her pry your arms open, smirking when she cheers and claims victory. In one fluid motion, just as she had done before, you wrap your leg around one of hers and flip her onto her back before leaning down to kiss her. She tenses up at first, but her hands end up working their way to your hips as her lips begin to move against yours.

Your plan is backfiring a bit; you only intended to shock her and buy yourself time to steal the remote back -- you never thought you'd actually enjoy the feeling of her kiss. You tilt your head to the side to get a better angle and slowly skim your hand down to hers, where the device is tightly clutched. Her other hand has come up to your jaw, which she's gently guiding as she steals another kiss from your lips.

Her distracted state made it easy to get what you were after, and soon -- much too soon for Jisoo's liking -- you pull away with a victorious smile. She doesn't know what to say; in all honesty, she's almost forgotten how to breathe with the way you kissed her senseless.

"I win." You grin, hopping off of her and shutting the TV off before crawling back into the bed. She stays in that same position for a couple minutes, laying on the floor as she tries to sort through what the hell just happened. She can't even be upset right now; she brings her fingertips to her lips, skimming them over the heart-shaped pillows as she smiles.

The Fallout

Things were a little tense when you shared the bed that night

Anytime you'd roll over and readjust your head on the pillow in your sleep, unknowingly positioning your lips dangerous close to hers, her heartbeat would pick up and she'd have to roll over again

You pretended to be asleep when she scooted back against you, pressing herself against your front in search of the heat that your body provided. You brought an arm around her, enclosing her in a soft embrace that had her blushing crimson

Subtle flirting at the competition the next day

Sticking up for each other when one of the other teams got a little rude

"Hey, don't talk about her like that!" Jisoo warns, glaring at the student from your rival school. His uniform is mussed and unkempt, leaving it as no surprise that he was the one to say such a thing.

"Why do you care?" He laughs back, spurred on as his friends snicker along.

The question catches her off guard; just days ago, she was the one bantering with you and testing your limits. Now though, when someone else is taking it too far, she can't help but feel angry. "Because she's my teammate. Now knock it off or I'll report you to your dean for unsportsmanlike behavior."

He scoffs, but eventually opts to grumble out another insult and turn away, nursing his bruised ego.

"Thanks, Chu." You quietly say, having witnessed the whole encounter from the row behind her. A small smile tugs at your lips at her actions, warming your heart.

"No problem, Y/N. But you'd better help me beat him; I'm not losing to that idiot." You laugh and agree, shaking her hand to seal your pact. She tries not to get too caught up on the smoothness of your skin or how it reminds her of last night, but her brain doesn't listen.

Needless to say, you beat them.

Your team stopped by a nice restaurant on the way back home for a celebratory dinner

Jisoo sat beside you

Cue the blushing and quiet flirting

It's a new side of her that you're not used to seeing. Now, instead of being all hardcore and witty, a simple look from you can make her blush

It doesn't always, though; sometimes she grows bold and lays a hand on your thigh for a moment, laughing at something you said

It's giving very much so gay panic™️, but you wouldn't trade it for the world

After the dinner, you go back to the bus and sit in your seats (which aren't together, surprisingly).

As you scroll through your phone, you get a text from Jisoo. Attached to the message is an invitation to one of her favorite mobile games.

"Hey, Y/N. Will you be my player 2? 🎮"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Jennie

Jennie Kim: The girl who practically ran the school, always getting her way and never having to lift a finger. She was royalty: the queen bee sat atop her throne, giving orders to the masses that they followed blindly. The whole situation seemed straight out of a poorly-written teenage movie, and it always annoyed you.

You: The girl who stuck to herself, only having a close group of friends that she talked to. You weren't popular, per se, but you weren't cursed to exist at the bottom of the food chain, either. Many people knew you, but you only associated with a select few.

You avoid the "popular" crowd a majority of the time, opting to spend spare time in between classes in the library or outside, doing homework

Jennie is the type of person that has people lined up, waiting for her to ask them to do hers for her. She gets to skip class and do whatever she wants, and she usually takes advantage of that.

She's never been mean to you directly, but you've seen her and her posse pick on people in typical mean girl fashion

You've never noticed the way that she usually targets people who've said bad things about you. She sticks up for you without you even knowing.

So, as you would expect, when your best friend called you and begged you to accompany her to one of the biggest parties of the year (hosted by none other than Jennie's brother), you were definitely surprised. Neither of you are the type to go to anything like that, but you know that she secretly wants to peek into that world of luxury.

"Pleaaaaase, Y/N? I'll do your laundry for a month."

"Fine."

The Turning Point

Your stylish boots crunch lightly against the concrete as you stand outside of the frat house, grimacing when you notice a boy stumble to the side of the house and get sick.

"We might have to bump that offer up to two months," you say to your friend, leaning onto her car as she checks her makeup in the side mirror.

"If it keeps you here for an hour or so, then fine." She smiles, taking your hand and leading you towards the building. Upon opening the door you're immediately greeted by waves of the strong bass of whatever song is playing. Their rhythmic thumps reverberate around the house, and you choose to seek some semblance of peace and quiet by heading to the kitchen. Your friend comes with, and the two of you push your way to the drink bar for refreshments.

"Thanks again for coming along, Y/N/N. You're the best." She leans into you, saying the phrase loud enough for you to hear over the music.

"I know," you hold your head up higher, self-assured. "You'd better go find Benji before things get too wild," you tell her, taking note of how the crowd is quickly growing in size. Benji, her longtime crush, is the only reason you really agreed to tag along; she's been head over heels for him for as long as you've known her, and you see this as the perfect opportunity for her to finally tell him. She needed some backup, and you always come through for your friends.

"Alright, I'll come find you later," she says, nervously smiling as she kisses your cheek as a farewell. You shout encouragement to her retreating figure, grinning wildly when you see her throw her hand up in the air.

Considering you made a drink for her just then before sending her off, you take the time now to make one for yourself. Your hands skim through the air overtop of the different bottles, searching for your favorite flavors and types to mix. As you go to reach across the table for one of them, disaster strikes.

You gasp as cold liquid lands on your shoulder, following gravity's command and rushing down your back and chest. A flurry of apologies follows suit, and you feel a soft hand on the small of your back as you go to turn around.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Jennie says, covering her mouth in shock. For a moment you're worried that she was dared to do this -- that perhaps her friends sent her off to ruin your outfit and embarrass you. When you find sincere regret in her deep brown eyes, though, all of those worries melt away.

"It's alright," you assure her, shaking your arms to get rid of some of the sticky drink that's trailed its way down. You set your half-filled cup on the table, no longer interested in getting anymore now.

"At least let me wash the shirt for you. I have a coat you can wear while its getting clean."

You furrow your brows at the offer, not expecting that from her. Not only has she apologized, which is practically unheard of from the prima donna, but she's willing to do something for another person?

"Uh, okay." You do your best to mask the confusion in your tone, but it's still plain to see.

"Follow me," she politely instructs, leading you down the hall towards what you assume is the laundry room.

She flips the light on and shuts the door behind you, walking into the closet to search for the spare set of close she keeps here.

When she emerges again, fluffy coat in hand, she begins stumbling over the words she was about about to say. Her eyes land on you, taking in the expanse of exposed skin now that you've stripped off the shirt you were wearing. She can't help but admire the sight; she subconsciously bites her lip, only being brought back to reality when you wave your hand in front of her face.

"Hello? Earth to Jennie?"

"What?" She eventually asks, shaking her head to rid herself of the thoughts swarming in it. She's always had a sort of thing for you, but she never imagined you could look that good. It should be a crime.

"I asked if you have a bathroom around here, so I can, ya know... wash up a bit. Whatever you had to drink is pretty sticky." You chuckle, moving your arm to show her how far it's spread.

"This room over here," she says, approaching a door on the wall opposite you, "is actually a bathroom. Convenient, right?" She asks, flipping the light on for you.

"Absolutely," you perk up, glad to know that you won't have to strut down the hall in your sports bra to get to a bathroom.

She steps to the side and pushes the door open for you, nearly melting when you give her a little wave and shut it behind yourself. She's got it bad.

She takes your shirt and throws it in the washer before setting the knobs correctly, knowing the best combos by heart. She and her brother are close, so it's not uncommon for her to come by and help him with chores when he gets swamped.

A few minutes later you come out of the bathroom clean and dry, nervously fidgeting with your hands as she turns to look at you again. Having the Jennie Kim looking at you in such a way and having her so close is a bit overwhelming, and you're not exactly sure how to deal with it.

"Here," she says, reaching around you to slide her jacket onto your arms. Her face hovers dangerously close to yours as she does, making you hold your breath in anticipation. She pulls the jacket closed, adjusting it so that it lays right, and you look into her eyes.

"Thanks, Jen."

Her heart speeds up at the nickname, though she tries not to show it.

"No problem, sweet thing." She flirts, taking you aback.

Just as you go to say something more, the door blasts open and a couple of her friends pop in. "There you are Jennie! What are you-- oh," they say, watching as the two of you spring apart.

When they realize who you are, they laugh among themselves. "What're you doing in here with her?" They ask, looking you up and down before ultimately appearing unimpressed. Jennie glances at you again, and you can see her going through some sort of inner turmoil.

"Thank God you guys showed up; she won't quit talking. I was just about to leave." She laughs, regaining the bitchy aura that she's known for. You set your jaw and nod, remembering why you choose to stay away from people like them.

"Wow, Jennie. You really had me fooled," you bite back, a bit shocked, but not surprised. You keep your eyes on hers as you take her jacket off and let it drop to the floor in front of her, grabbing a spare towel from the hamper on your way out the door. Her friends scoff at you, wondering what such a nobody like you thinks they're doing treating Jennie like that. You brush past them and send her one last look, conveying all the emotions you feel with a mere glance.

She's disappointed in herself, and she hangs her head as the girls scoop the designer material up and hand it to her.

----

45 Minutes Later

Just 15 more minutes, Y/N; totally doable. You reason with yourself. Jennie left the laundry room soon after you, leaving it vacant for you to put your shirt in the dryer and retrieve it when it was done. Now, clad in the warm material, you sit outside by the fire. Stars are shining brightly in the night sky, illuminating it so beautifully that your mind is taken off of what happened. They twinkle for you, and the sight puts you at ease.

What has that pleasant feeling dissipating in a second, however, is the sound of Jennie's voice as she exits the patio door.

She's talking to her friends about some boy that's in love with her, as the whole school seems to be, and you roll your eyes. With the moment officially ruined, you decide to head back into the house and spend the rest of your sentence there.

Once you stand up from your seat and turn around to take your leave, her friends notice you. "Jesus, you're really obsessed, aren't you? Are you following her or something?" One of them, a snarky blonde from earlier, asks.

You laugh at that. "Hardly," you glance at Jennie, though she avoids eye contact. "I'm sure you'd like that, though. Give you something to talk about other than your split ends." She reels back at your boldness, prepared to start a fight.

"You bitc--"

"Stop," Jennie finally steps in, cutting the girl off. She moves between the two of you, putting a hand on your chest and looking into your eyes.

"Jennie, I don't know what her problem is," the blonde squeaks out, trying to defend her actions.

"The problem doesn't lie with her," she tells her, leaving her puzzled. Jennie continues, "I lied earlier; I'm the one who invited her to the laundry room because I spilled my drink on her." You narrow your eyes at her following her statement, wondering where she's going with this.

"We probably would've kissed, too, if you hadn't walked in."

Your heart speeds up a little at that, but you're still hurt by what she did earlier. Having her be one way with you in private and another in public is never a good sign.

"I'm done with you guys. You turn me into something I'm not," she looks between the small following that's accrued, letting them know how she's been feeling for the past bit. The majority of them are stuck up and entitled, and seeing the hurt in your eyes put things into perspective for her. She likes you, and she wants to be better because of that.

"I don't understand, Jennie," one of them asks, sounding like she's on the brink of tears. Are these people really that invested? You know the hierarchy of popularity is confusing, but they make it seem like she's breaking up with them.

"We're not friends anymore. Not until you get your heads out of your asses and start being nicer."

The crowd clearly doesn't know how to react at her sudden change in attitude, but they mutter out various responses before some of them break away.

You look down at her and glance to the house, wordlessly telling her to follow you so that you can have a moment alone to talk. You lead her over to the patio and stand against the wall.

"I'm sorry," she says, sounding relieved to finally get the words out. Her previous actions have been weighing heavily on her, and she's been doing some introspection. It's not entirely all of a sudden, though; she's been questioning why she still hangs out with them for a while now. This encounter just confirmed her desire to leave them.

"I shouldn't have lied like that. I know it hurt you." She looks away, feeling disappointed again.

"Yeah, it definitely wasn't fun to have my crush talk about me like that." You nod, shoving your hands into your pockets.

"Crush?" Her head raises up, doing a terrible job of concealing the hopefulness she feels blossoming.

"Crush." You lightly smile at the way she blushes at your simple confirmation. She's too adorable for her own good; it's really no wonder than she has everyone on their knees for her.

"Thank you for apologizing," you say after a moment, nudging her shoulder gently. "It's more than your posse usually gives, so I appreciate it. You'd better mean it, though." You cock your head at her expectantly, a hint of warning in your tone.

"You have my word," she smiles, determined to make sure the opportunity you're giving her doesn't go to waste.

The Fallout

In the following weeks, she cut ties with more and more toxic people, causing a bit more drama to stir up, but she didn't care. You were by her side through all of it, as were your friends, and she saw what true community looks like. She had so many people at her beck and call back then, but none of them cared as much as your close knit group. They were in it because of her status, not because of her.

Walking her to class

Both of you sticking up for each other if people try to start stuff

Helping her correct her bad habits if she starts to get judgemental with someone or slips back into her old ways

Being patient with her

Her spoiling you randomly to show how thankful she is for you

"Miss L/N, we have a Candy Gram for you. Sent by Jennie Kim." A staff member says upon entering the classroom, walking the package over to you. You grin widely as you open the note attached to it.

"Come see me after class, Y/N/N. I have something for you."

You were excited for the rest of class

You rode your bike back to her dorm, parking it outside before knocking on the door.

"Hey, Jendeukie. What do you have for--"

You're abruptly cut off by her lips pressing against yours as her hands pull you in, turning you to mush. You sink into her arms and kiss back, reveling in the feeling of finally having this moment with her. You've been waiting for it ever since the party.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," she softly admits, resting her forehead against yours. "I hope I didn't overstep." You can hear the nervousness in her voice, and you smile at how cute she is.

"Quite the opposite, actually. Come here," you pull her in again, lifting her up into your arms as you walk into her dorm. She squeals at the sudden move, but the sound is quickly muffled as you lean in to kiss her again.

[shaydeoffical]

Let’s Slip Away: Diluc x Fem Reader: Childhood Best Friend Au

Summary: You and Diluc slip away from the annual Dawn Winery Ball and confess. Reader then deals with some anxiety about the relationship and Diluc soothes them.  

Tags:

Lots of fluff, Creepus is a wonderful person, Diluc is so smooth, dancing under the moonlight, long fit.  

Diluc x Reader

Lets Slip Away

The annual Dawn Winery Masquerade Ball, the biggest ball this side of Mondstat, or it used to be. Thankfully, Diluc had successfully scaled the ball down in size a little more with each passing year. Still, it didn't make much of a difference with the ballroom still being packed tight. No matter how the guest list shrunk, people found a way to take up the same amount of space as before. There's nothing I loved more than a dance, but it was the people I couldn't stand. Everyone liked to pretend they were an evil aristocrat once their identity was concealed. A fancy dress, a decorative mask, and a new hairstyle, and everyone felt invincible. It was the same thing every year; they'd order the staff around, drink till they lost control, and leave the manor a mess. It was deplorable.

After watching a woman toss a glass on one of the maids, I lost my cool. I may or may not have tossed my grape juice on the women in retribution. The maid couldn't do it, so I had to use my position as "Master" Diluc's best friend to get away with it. What I didn't expect was for the lady's husband to toss not just the wine but the whole glass at my face. While the glass didn't bust when the base hit my head, it did leave a notable bruise, and the wine soaked through my hair, mask, and dress.

Elzer stepped in immediately to settle the issue, and instead of sticking around to get a lecture, I slipped into the garden. Hiding between several grapevines. I listened to the music pour from the house above and pouted. If I had played my cards right tonight, I would have been dancing in an empty corner with Turner or maybe even Diluc if he was free. He always saved the last dance for me. When the party started to clear a little, we'd stay in my favorite corner and have a quick dance while he whispered about he'll find a way to have the event canceled next year. But no, I was being eaten by mosquitos fighting off a headache.

Holding my mask between my hands, the once white fabric had stained dark red. Even my cream dress was littered with splotches that wrecked of dandelion wine. Sucking in my lower lip, I held back a sudden wave of sadness. It settled into my bones and swept through my limbs in a jitter. Why was I so sad? I avenged the maid and did the right thing… but my chest ached.   Curling around myself, I tucked my head between my lap. There was a time and place for crying, and a party wasn't one. Yet, there I was, sobbing into the fancy gown Diluc had hand made for me. Of course, he wouldn't be mad at me for what happened, but the guilt was eating me alive. I had ruined the evening for myself and made things harder on my friend. "There you are. I've been looking all over-. Hey, Elzer told me what happened, but he didn't mention a welt. How badly are you hurt?" Diluc pushed through the vines faster and hopped over the last row. He knelt beside me and carefully lifted my chin so he could see my face. "I'm just being a baby." I leaned back, the moonlight catching my skin. He ran his thumb over the knot on my forehead, and he clenched his teeth. "Damn bastard." He looked back at the mansion. "He might be wearing a mask, but there's only one person in Mondstat with monogram shoe buckles." "What?" I laughed; he was so serious, but the idea of a monogram shoe buckle had me drying up my tears. "Who pays for that kind of thing?" "Mr. Barker." Diluc wiped under my eyes. "Are you hurt anywhere besides your head?" "Besides the guilt of running the dress you got me and making the party harder for you to manage, I'm fine." I let it out. There was no use in pretending it wasn't bothering me. I had learned a lot about Diluc in our years of being together. While he was a very perceptive man when it came to solving crimes and putting things together, he didn't have the same skill for guessing how I felt. He's known something was wrong before, but he'd just find ways to blame himself if I didn't tell him. "I'll have you another dress made, and those Barkers aren't your fault. Ms. Barker started it, and I ended it. There's always a little drama at these events." He twirled my hair around his finger. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop it entirely." "Don't go blaming yourself now." I scooted so close; I was almost in his lap. "Let's just focus on the music or the sky. I know you'll have to go back in soon, so let's just relax for a moment." "Hmm, I can hear it from here. It's nice." A soft number started to play, and people passing by the window cast shadows into the courtyard. He leaned his head against mine. Minutes passed by, and the song changed, both of us just settling our nerves. "So, I guess we won't have the last dance together this year." I hummed, the thought burning at the back of my mind. "I can't go back in there like this." I forced myself to laugh, trying to get it off my chest without sounding too sad. "We don't have to go back in. Elzer can handle the end of the night speech for me, like every year." Diluc stood, reaching his hand out to me. "Milady, may I have this dance?" "Diluc…of course, you may." I pushed my insecurities down and gripped his rough hand. Being wealthy, Diluc had been trained in many different types of formal ballroom dances. When he was in the zone, there was no one but Kaeya who could match his prowess and aura. But I wasn't blessed with the same background. I was just the daughter of the maid, and while my mother was paid well, there wasn't enough money to pay for a dance instructor. However, Diluc taught me everything he knew. We use to spend hours after his class, practicing and gliding around the living room. After some time, I even got to join the classes as Diluc and Kaeya's partner. Creepus convinced my mother it was just good practice for the boys, but looking back, he just wanted me to get that experience as well. "You okay?" Diluc gently gripped my waist as I spun back into his arms. "Yes, I was just thinking about when you taught me how to dance." I closed the gap between us and started moving with the song. Diluc took charge after a few more movements, and I gave up trying to lead. It was always a fun game for us to try to take charge, but I normally gave in fairly fast. Every now and then, he'd let me lead, but I often stepped on his toes when I did.   The ground wasn't level as a dance floor, so it was easier to just follow Diluc. Since he took the first step, he was able to find the best footholds. When we did hit a small hump, we'd steady each other and share a small smile. It wasn't a seamless performance like when we were on solid ground, but it was fun. It also gave us a reason to cling tighter to each other. His broad chest was always so warm; there was nothing more pleasant than laying my head there and closing my eyes as we swayed under the moon. "That was always so much fun." Diluc spun me out, then back into his arms. "Father use to watch us practice, he never told me directly, but Elzer said it was one of his favorite memories." Diluc pressed his lips into a line, eyes turning back to the manor. "He always loved this event, but I can't help but hate it." "I'm not a fan of the crowds or the entitled guests. But I do enjoy dancing with you." I laid my head on his shoulder, bringing him back to the present. "It seems we only dance when this event rolls around. And I can't help but wish for more moments like this. So, while I understand your distaste, I do think Creepus had the right idea. This is a chance for all of us to come together do something we all loved…it just is hard to enjoy when other people are so entitled." "I feel the same way. Dancing with you, it's always my favorite part of the ball." We swayed back and forth in a tight embrace, the music fading out and our footwork growing sloppy. "There's been so much to do recently. I'm afraid I've neglected you." "Mother told me that as friends get older, drifting apart is normal… I'm just glad you're still here with me. No matter how short that time is." He hugged me tighter, inhaling a sharp breath. "Maybe friends do, but my feelings for you are much stronger than just friends." I gasped before I could stop myself. Crickets chirped in the distance, and the lighting bugs emerged just as the party started to close. This moment was very much real…but did he really just confess? "You want to be with me?" I slowly looked up, grabbing the sides of his suit. "As more than friends?" "I do." He pulled back a little, glancing at the ground. "How do you feel? Could you ever love me as more than a friend? I know it's selfish to ask that of you, given the dangers that follow my line of duty. But I can't deny myself any longer." "My heart is going to jump out of my chest, Luc." Grasping his hand, I pressed it to my wrist. He smiled, rubbing his thumb over my pulse. "I want to be yours, and you mine. To be honest, I've had feelings for you for a while now. I just thought you didn't return them." Heat climbed up my face, and I looked away to hide it. While his confession was so smooth, mine was energetic and messy. Why couldn't I keep it calm? "That settles it then." He stepped closer, our eyes locking and fingers lacing. "We'll be together from here on out." A warm breeze went by, picking up the bottom of my ruined skirt. "Next time there's a dance, you won't have to leave my side, nor I yours. There will be no flying wine glasses or uncouth guests. We can dance the night away without worry or interruption." "I don't know if a party could ever go that smoothly." I pushed his hair back and cupped his face. "Unless we barred over half the guest list." "If you don't think I'd do that, then you underestimate how far I'll go to make you happy." His checks tined red, barely illuminated by the moon. "Oh, I don't doubt you, Master Diluc. But I'm not hard to please, we could dance in the living room like we use to, and I'd be the happiest person alive." I tugged him closer, wrapping my arms around his hips, and swaying to an imaginary beat. "It's not often you add my title before my name." He hummed, letting me lead us to the song in my head. "Master Diluc, whatever do you mean?" I batted my eyelashes and snickered. "I didn't realize I added it. Maybe it's where I've spent most of the night talking about you, and not to you that I've forgotten how to be relaxed. There was many a guest who wanted to pry about your love life." "Well, you have a definitive answer now, Lady Amber." He kissed the top of my head, stopping for a moment. His body radiated a wave of heat, and he nodded to himself. "It's starting to get cold. We should head inside before you catch a cold. I'm sure everyone's left by now." "I don't want this moment to end." I clung to his shirt, the warmth he emitted making my eyelids grow heavy. Whenever he allowed me to use him as a personal heater, I took the chance. But this was the first time I didn't worry about it being the last.   "We have many more moments like this ahead of us." He supported me as we walked towards the mansion, looping his arm around my waist. "Let's go clean up, and turn in for the night. Tomorrow we can have breakfast and go for a ride along the river. How does that sound?" "It sounds so nice." Once we were back in the house, Elzer met us in the doorway. "Where have you been, Master Diluc?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose and glanced at me. "And you, Ms. Amber, what were you thinking tossing your drink? You completely ruined the night. I could hardly contain the guests" Diluc wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and Elzer's tone sifted from miffed to muted. "Elzer, the issue was with the guests, not Amber." He steered me towards the stairs, nudging me along. "Go on to bed. I'll be up there in a moment. I have some business to finish up." Diluc walked towards his office, motioning for Elzer to follow him. Elzer shot me a perplexed look and tried to mouth out, 'be more careful' before hurrying after Diluc. I whisper back, "okay," before taking the stairs two at a time before stopping. I wasn't going to get in trouble, so I might as well show I'm not ashamed. "Goodnight Elzer," I called after the older man, with as "pleasant" of a tone as I could muster. Parties almost always stressed him more than Diluc, but since Elzer was an employee, he couldn't run and hide like Luc. Truth be known, if Diluc hadn't been there, I would have gotten a long lecture on the importance of keeping good relations with potential business partners. But that's only because Elzer couldn't let his frustrations out on anyone else. I was always there to listen and receive his distain when things went wrong. It wasn't my favorite pastime, but it did help him feel better. It was surprising he was so stressed, he actually chastised me in front of Diluc. It must have been a tough night even after I left. I usually was lectured in private, but he really was ready to let me have it.   Once in the guest room, I disrobed. The heavy gown took several minutes to untie and loosen the laces, but once it was done, my lungs could fully expand. My ribs ached, so I rubbed circles on my sides till the initial throb dulled. The night had gone better than I ever planned, and now it was over. Yet, there was a worse throb in my chest than the pain of a corset. Diluc and I were finally together. We removed the ever-lingering question and just confessed. Why did it hurt inside? Was it that the party was hard on everyone else and I was so happy? Or was it something else? Tilling the blue pitcher on the nightstand, water rushed into the ornate basin below. Dipping a rag into the cool water, I began to wash the wine from my face. It had been such a stressful night. Perhaps the empty feeling inside was fear of the unknown. Or fear that Diluc would wake up and change his mind. That he'd send me away for good once he realized he could never be with someone of such low status. Someone who didn't couldn't even keep up public appearance at a ball. Maybe, it would just take me slipping up once when I was wearing a mask? Then he'd send me away from the manor. I finished cleaning up, then tossed the water out the window. Fixing the pitcher and basin back in place, I reached below the nightstand and pulled out my nightgown. Slipping on the flowy gown, I turned down my sheets and got comfortable. This guest room had been mine for as long as I could remember. While I still lived in the cottage by the river with my mother, I spent more nights at the mansion than at home. Diluc and I would rush through his paperwork every night, and I'd help get his gear ready to go protect Mondstat. I was his sidekick in many ways. Spending so much time there at night, it just made sense for me to sleep here too. We were a great team. Plus, the close proximity made things easier and less suspicious… But that wasn't the whole truth. It was more so that my mother had met someone new, and he had moved into our shared home. He was a nice man, a retired Knight of Favonius, but I just couldn't relax around him. He was stern about me not going out after dark, so staying over at the mansion became more and more frequent. Which was better for mom and Mr.Godfrey's partnership. But while I spent more nights away, mom started to believe there was something between Diluc and me, so she was happy to see me leave home. She was going to be overjoyed to hear the news that we confessed. Though, I'm sure she'll say kicking me out was the reason we finally admitted our feelings, which was not the whole truth. Still, I did miss my own bed sometimes. Pressing my back to the headboard, I curled my knees up and rested my head between them. Sucking in a deep breath, small tears slipped past again. There was too much happening. I couldn't think about one thing for too long. So much good just happened. Why? Why was I thinking about the bad? A familiar rasp at the door rang through the room. "Come in." Wiping my eyes, I sat up and pulled the covers up to my neck. "You're crying again." He walked into the candlelight. I could tell he had cleaned up before coming to see me. He was wearing one of his loose puffy shirts and some cotton pants; his hair had been smoothed and pulled into a low ponytail, water dripping from the ends. It didn't matter what he wore. He always looked unbelievably handsome. "Was it Elzer? He knows it's not your fault. He was just worried about our trade deal." "There's just so much to think about. I can't let myself be happy." I rubbed my eyes again. "What if you realize I'm not good enough for you? Or what if my mother's partner treats you poorly because you quit the Knights? Then that couple, what if they stop working with you and it hurts the business because of me? No one is ever going to see me as anything more than a gold digger." My brain let loose, new concerns and problems being added to my mix. "I'm so negative right now, and I know you probably just want to be happy that we feel the same way…but- I'm so sorry. "He pulled back the covers and crawled in with me. Wrapping me in his arms, the blanket went over our heads, and Diluc settled down. "There you go, having to comfort me like a child." I rested my hand on his shoulder. "You sure you could learn to love a mess like me?" "I already love you." He rubbed patterns on my back, pressing a kiss to the lump on my forehead. "You've been like this since we were children, plagued with worries beyond your control. I know that after you let it out, you always feel better. And that the minute you go silent, that's when I really need to do some digging." He paused drawing on my back and instead moved to play with my hair. "We'll figure it all out as we go, all the what's and if's. We'll take them one at a time, starting with the one I have control over." "Woah." He flipped me over, hovering inches from my face. He pinned me between his legs, the v neck of his shirt hanging open so I could see the red hairs on his chest. "You could be from the richest family in Mondstat or poorest, and I'd still want to be with you." He kissed me, pressing down just until our bodies touched. "I'd go as far as to say, if you were a member of the Fatui, I'd still be smitten. I would certainly find a way to break your ties with them, but I couldn't stop loving you. So, you are more than enough for me, and if anyone makes you feel differently, then I will handle it." "That's a bold statement coming from you." I ran my fingers through his ponytail as it hung over his shoulder. "I can't argue with that logic, but I promise I'm not a member of the Fatui." I wrapped my arms around his waist, encouraging him to squish me with his full weight. "I'm going to crush you." He fought against me, but I only nuzzled his neck, blowing raspberries. "Amber, hey." "I know. But I'd also like to point out how improper it is for you to be in my room at this hour. So, I'd like to be crushed as repayment… please." I let go of one side of his hip and wiped my eyes. "You are right. It is improper." He lowered himself a little more but didn't fully lay on me. "A true gentlemen would never stay this late with a proper young lady. However, there is something else I want that's a little scandalous." "What could that be?" I gasped, my lungs not fully expanding as his weight sunk down on my chest. He noticed as he sat up to his previous position. "A kiss?" He moved his elbow up and cupped my face. His eyes glimmered with the flame that was lighting up the room. His touch was gentle but so firm I couldn't imagine being in another person's embrace. At that moment, there were only two people in the world, and I was madly in love with one of them.   "That sounds quite proper to me. You should always kiss your lover goodnight." I stuttered a little, unable to keep up the playful banter as I looked at his lips. The smile that spread on his face made the butterflies in my stomach flutter. Archons, I was smitten.   His thumb brushed my lower lip before he brought his mouth down for a chaste kiss. Testing the waters, he hovered millimeters above me, and I stole his lips in a deeper kiss. Having a lack of experience in the field, I matched the pattern he set. Just like dancing, I tried to take the lead and failed miserably. So I did was I was best at, adding the fun flourishes. I curled my fingers into his hair and snaked my hand up his shirt and across his chest. He matched my movements, caressing my face and tilting my head up to deepen the kiss. Every star in the sky dulled in comparison to the explosion of light that spread over my body. He shifted back, catching his breath. he smoothed my hair and peppered, kissing around my face before setting back. "Thank you." He laced our fingers together, pulling my hand to his mouth and kissing my knuckles.     "Will you stay tonight?" I took our intertwined hands and kissed his knuckles in return. "I don't want you to leave just yet." "As you wish." He got behind me, adjusting the covers we had tossed around earlier. "Now, let's get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow." I laid my head on my pillow and scooted back until we were slotted against each other. His hand wrapped around my shoulders in a reassuring squeeze. "I love you." "I love you more." It took a while for all the blood pumping through my body to relax again, but once it did, I fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. Dreams of dancing through the clouds with Diluc filled my head, and I had the best rest of my entire life. Next to the man I dearly loved.   

The End

Please Comment Like & Share so I know you want more Geinshein content  

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

summertime sadness .4.

tgif

Sequel to kiss me in the d-a-r-k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (masterlist under construction)

Warnings: dub con sex (oral)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and dark(professor!)Bucky explicit. 18+ only. I know they aren’t super dark, but like questionable so I’m keeping those tags just to be safe.

Summary: You settle into your new job but can’t get too comfortable.

Note: Okey, dokey. Here’s the fun part (for me at least). Still tryna figure out how exactly this one will pan out by part 6 but we’re all having a ride together, eh. Thanks everyone for their support and I love you all! 💋

<3 Let me know what you think in a reblog, reply, or like. I’m loving the feedback from y'all and the enthusiasm! Also as always, memes accepted.

💋💋💋

It had only been a few weeks since your last visit to the university but it felt longer as you walked onto campus. Just as planned, you were due to meet Bucky in his office. He texted you as you rode the subway. He was eager to start his ‘marking’. You smirked and wondered how long he’d last at that.

You entered the English Building, the elevator back in service and empty. Not many instructors were in their offices on a Saturday and most students were hungover or readying for another party. You knocked on Bucky’s door before you entered. He had a stack of essays on his desk as he sat behind them listlessly.

“Finally,” He said.

“I slept in.” You replied. “For the first time in a week.”

“Then you’ll have lots of energy,” He reached below his desk, the sound of his zipper discernible beneath it. “I’ve got about forty papers here.”

“Forty? And how many do you think you’ll get to?”

“Knowing that mouth, maybe one.” He snickered. “Come on, baby, I’m rock hard over here.”

He rolled his chair back as you neared and set your purse down behind his desk. He slapped your ass and you got to your knees. You grinned up at him as you ducked under his desk and gripped his thighs as he pushed closer. You pulled down his briefs and his cock sprung out. He groaned and grabbed his pen.

“Fuck,” He swore under his breath. “I can’t believe you’re actually doing this, baby.”

“You’ve got marking to do,” You reprimanded and stroked him. “Now get to work.”

You stretched your lips over his tip and he groaned. He slid closer and you could hear the clumsy scratching of his pen on paper. As he reached the back of your throat, his leg twitched. You pushed past your gag reflex and he nearly choked. You pulled back and felt the shiver in him.

“Mmm,” He hummed and flipped a page. “Just like that.”

The sloppy sounds of your mouth added to the flutter above, the scribbles of ink. You bobbed your head steadily, every now and then forcing him to your limit and holding him there. And then you stopped as a knock came at the door. You both froze.

“Shit,” He pushed himself against the desk entirely and trapped you underneath it. The front shielded you from view on the other side. “Keep going.”

“Buck---”

“Slowly, quietly.” He grabbed his dick and slapped it against your lips. “Now.” He cleared his throat and shoved your head down as he glided into your mouth again. “Come in.” He called and the door opened.

Your eyes widened as he pulled his hand away. You carefully dragged your tongue along his length.

“Hey,” He greeted in a smooth tone. “Tanya.”

“Sorry to disturb,” His visitor replied. “I was just grabbing some stuff from my office and I just remembered I still had this.”

A thump sounded on the top of the desk as you slobbered down his cock.

“Thanks,” He said and squeezed his legs around you. “I almost forgot myself if I’m being honest.”

“I owe you one,” She said. You recognized her voice. She taught the other section of journalism, though you had her for a social movements class in your first year. “Maybe a drink. I could hang around til you finish with those.”

“Ah, you know, I wish I could,” He lamented. “But I promised a buddy I’d swing around to watch the game.”

You kept from gagging and held your breath, afraid to give yourself away.

“You don’t seem like the sports type,” She countered.

“Not really but a few beers and I am,” He dismissed her easily.

“You sure you’re not avoiding me?” Her toe tapped impatiently just on the other side of the desk.

“Avoiding you?” He chuckled. A slight quaver in his voice as you swirled your tongue around his tip. “Why would I be doing that?”

“Well… Ever since our little… you know…” She hesitated to say it aloud.

“I thought we agreed that it was just a little fun.” He said and you stopped suddenly. He nudged you with his toe and you wrapped your lips around him once more. “A drunken bit of fun.”

“Hmmm…” She sounded disappointed. “You free tomorrow?”

“Sorry, maybe next weekend,” He said. “But I really gotta finish here.”

“Okay, okay,” She accepted with a trill. “We’ll sort out a time then.”

“Sure,” He confirmed unconvincingly. “Next weekend. See ya.”

“Bye,” Her voice was cheerier as her heels clicked back across the floor and the door opened and closed once more.

You tried to pull away but he caught your head and held you down as he emptied himself down your throat. You choked and smacked at his thigh as he cupped his sac with his other hand. He left your mouth salty and sore as he slipped out and rolled back with a sigh.

You spit his cum into your hand and crawled out from under the desk. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry, I had to-- fuck, I almost came with her right there.” He grabbed a tissue and handed it to you.

“You could’ve warned me,” You wiped your hand off with a grimace. “What was that anyway? Did you fuck her?”

“Why? You jealous?” He cleaned himself up and zipped up his pants.

“No,” You rolled your eyes. “But I did just suck you off within two feet of her as she obviously wanted to do the same.”

He laughed and pushed his shoulders back. “It was months ago. Before… us. There was a conference, there was wine, and I regret it.” He sighed. “And she looks back on it fondly but… lots of teeth and she was stiff as a fucking board.”

“Wow,” You said dryly and wiped your mouth. “You know, I’m barely surprised.”

“This… thing between you and I, it’s not--”

“It’s just a bit of fun. Trust me, I get it. I haven’t got time for anything but.” You tossed the kleenex in the small bin beside his desk. “Right? That’s what it is?”

“So much fun,” He assured you. “You wanna hang around till I’m finished?”

“Thought you already were,” You jibed. His brow furrowed and you grinned. “Sure,” You pulled up a chair. “I got nothing better to do.”

“Well, don’t sound so excited,” He said. “Besides, I might need some more help sooner than later.”

💋

You scribbled along the margin of your agenda and dropped the pen. The keys clacked beneath your fingers as you typed up a manic sentence. Your screen glowed back at you as the seconds ticked by with each letter. So enthralled by your task that the speck in your peripheral gave you a start.

You leaned back and turned your chair to face the man watching you. Loki’s lithe fingers swept up your golden pen and he admired the engraved letters beneath the fluorescent light. You watched him nervously as you pushed yourself away from your keyboard.

“Mr. Laufeyson.” You greeted him meekly. “I am just finishing the blurb you wanted.”

“Hard at work, as always,” He mused as he carefully set the pen back on your desk. “A beautiful pen…”

“A gift,” You smiled awkwardly.

“Well, I hate to interrupt you so I will let you finished,” His fingers brushed along your desk and he leaned on it as he casually cross his right leg in front of the other. “But when you have, I would like a moment in my office before you leave for the day.”

“Of course,” You affirmed. “It shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes.”

“As you will,” He stood straight and smoothed his jacket and buttoned it. “Then you are free to enjoy your weekend.”

“Okay,” You nodded and he turned away. 

You watched him go, his strides long but lingering as he retreated to his office. The usual crowd had thinned out and Stacey was readying for her own departure. You spun back to your computer and resumed your work. Your second week down and not a stumble yet. You dared to be proud of yourself. Even, to be happy.

Another weekend ahead of you and you weren’t entirely excited. You liked being in the office; liked working with the other journalists, writers, and editors. Enjoyed your chance to shadow one of the most powerful men in New York publishing. And he had achieved it all at such a young age. You could only hope to achieve as much in the next fifteen years. 

It was more than a bullet point for your resume, it was your own paradise.

So you finished up your blurb and attached it to an email. You logged out and packed up your agenda and pen beside your laptop. You pushed your chair in as you hooked your bag over your shoulder and trod tentatively to Loki’s office. You knocked on the open door and he looked away from his screen.

“Ah, there you are,” He beckoned you in with a wave. “Close the door behind you, please.”

You glanced back into the main office and did as he said. You stepped inside and sat across from him, your bag set down against the leg of the chair. His green eyes focused on you and he tilted his head as he absently traced his fingers over his phone. You fidgeted as you struggled not to shy away.

“I just wanted to check in,” He said. “And I was recently reviewing your references.”

“My references?” You wondered.

“Mmm,” He hummed. “Your professors speak highly of you. One of the reasons I even considered a second year, let alone one who had so suddenly changed majors, was a certain word on your behalf.”

“Okay?” You were confused and gripped the arms of the chair as you blinked at him dumbly.

“James Barnes has earned his tenure at the university and on occasion, he has written pieces for my own magazine. A respectable writer, admirable in his work both in teaching and otherwise. And when he proposed this workshop, the tours, I thought it was a charming idea. He proved me right so I had no doubt when he spoke to me of you.”

You gulped but said nothing. Your stomach churned and you brought your hands together and wrung them.

“You see,” He lifted his phone and blindly unlocked it. “You have lived up to his reference and your work is commendable…” He smirked as he flicked a finger across the screen. “But I still questions the veracity of his endorsement as I find his integrity has come into doubt.”

He set his phone down and slid it across the desk. He nodded for you to pick it up. You slid forward on your chair and took it. Your lips parted in horror as you stared at the screen. It was you and Bucky in the bookshop, your lips locked and his arms wrapped around you. You looked up, mortified, as the phone shook in your grasp.

“I…” The breath went out of you and you put the phone back on the desk before it could fall. “How did you--”

“It’s a quaint little shop.” He purred. “I venture in every now and then.”

You chewed your lip as your cheeks burned.

“You do realize that this could be… damaging. To you more than him.” He stood slowly and came around the desk to stand before you. “He has tenure, he is established. You, my dear, you’re barely getting started.”

You gaped up at him. The pet name unsettled you and you wiped your sweaty hands on your thighs.

“And aside from the ethical dilemma, I do wonder what a girl your age sees in a man his age. Especially when your work speak so boldly on its own.”

You shook your head, speechless.

“Surely there are boys your own age who would be delighted to offer you… companionship.”

“I never… I would never use him like that.” You insisted. “It’s all… my work. My own work.”

“Oh, I know it, dear,” He said as his lips curled. “But to risk that work on him? On an affair better fit to a dime store erotica?”

“Are you-- Are you going to report him? Me?” You asked. “Am I fired?”

“Well,” He leaned on the desk, his long fingers gripped it’s edge as he leered down at you. “That depends on you, my dear.”

“Me?” You squeaked.

“Oh yes, this is a very powerful secret, don’t you think?” He slithered. “And in our business, well, it would sell.”

“What do you want?” You asked.

He pushed himself away from the desk and reached to tickle your cheek. His fingers crawled along your chin and he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip.

“I haven’t yet made up my mind,” He bent so that his face was only inches from yours. “But when I do, my dear, you will appease me, won’t you?”

You shuddered but didn’t pull away. You were too frightened. A lock of his dark hair fell forward as his pale skin shone sinister in the lamp light. His green eyes bore into yours and you wanted desperately too look away.

“Y-yes,” You stammered weakly. “I--I will.”

“Very good,” He drew away slowly. “Now, darling, go enjoy your weekend.” He scooped up his phone and tucked it in his pocket. “And give the professor my regards.”

[hobeemin]

A Baker’s Dozen

🍓 Genre: Fluff and a bit of Romance

🍓 Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

🍓 Rating: pg13

🍓 Warning(s): Light cursing, Reader is a horrible cook, crying, a mini nervous breakdown, e2l (?)

🍓 Word Count: 3.4k

🍓 Credits: To my lovely beta @yoongs-jeontae ily 💜💗 and the beautiful @namluve​ for creating this lovely banner and divider ilyt!!

🍓 A/N: to @randomkoalablog my gift to you. Happy birthday!!! I wish you happiness! I hope you enjoy your day!!🎈🎉🎊🎂🍰🧁

Jin didn’t even have to turn around once he heard the crash. Temple protruding, he pressed his chalk onto the board, writing out the instructions for the next in-class assignment. Hearing the murmurs behind him and chairs scraped across the vinyl floor, he clenched his teeth and carried on.

Crust

Graham crackers (crushed) - About 2 cups

Sugar… ⅓  cup

Butter (melted)… ⅓ cup

Filling

Unsweetened chocolate...4 ounces

Sugar… 1 ½ cup

Eggs (chilled)… 4

Salted butter (cold and softened)... 2 sticks

Vanilla extract… 1 teaspoon

Topping

Heavy cream…. 1 ½ cup

Powdered sugar… ¼ cup

Semi-sweet chocolate bar (for grating)

A yelp from behind him paused his actions as he finally twirled around. Brows knit, he didn’t even need to guess what happened. You were covered head to toe in cake flour.

“Y/N?” Jin sighed in defeat.

You squealed, trying to cower behind another student. “I-I...Sorry, Seokjin-nim. I–”

“Don’t even bother,” he interrupted, rubbing his temples. “Go clean up and come back to class.”

Your shoulder slumped, and without a word, you ran out of the classroom. He gave a dubious look to the remainder of the class. “C’mon, clean that up, and we’ll start when Y/N returns.”

Jin considered himself a decent instructor, heck he was one of the best culinary chef’s out there. But unfortunately, in the economy's state, he had to close his restaurant and settle on teaching basic cooking classes. That was all well and good, but the only job available had been at a small, unknown culinary school. So desperate for students, they’d admit anyone. And therein lies the problem: You. 

You weren’t the best cook...okay, that was being polite. You were a horrendous cook, and it was a miracle your place hadn’t burned down from all the cooking accidents you managed to do. Still, you had a passion for cooking, and your dream of becoming one of the best pastry chefs in Seoul would someday come true. 

Jin didn’t hold his breath. On the first day of class, you managed to break an oven, the mixing bowl, and burn the inside of a saute pan. A saute pan?! There wasn’t anything in it!

But Jin gave you the benefit of the doubt. It was your first day, and nerves were high.

Except it happened every single day after that: broken bowls and equipment, tripping over the shock mats, and burning yourself on the stove. It never failed. Jin would have just sucked it up to you being a klutz, but on top of it all, your cooking sucked. There wasn't a day that went by where he’d think about the creme brulee you destroyed. Again, how did you manage torching the surface, and it was raw?

You walked back into the classroom, freshly changed into a new chef’s jacket and pants, and stood at your station. You winced seeing Jin’s eyes bore into you, and you wanted nothing more for the floor to swallow you up. 

“Now that the break is over, we can focus on the lesson at hand,” he began, pointing to the board. “Today we’ll be making French silk pie. A complex dish due to the fact it’s not baked and the eggs will be raw. Now, to start, we’ll make the crust.”

The students got to work getting the necessary ingredients and making the pie crusts. Only whispers were heard throughout the kitchen. Jin walked around, giving small tips of advice as he checked the students' progress.

“Make sure the graham crackers are crumbly, not too chunky or fine; the texture should be there. Perfect.”

He smiled at each student as he went about only stopping at you with a frown. Somehow you were having trouble with the food processor. “Y/N? Something wrong?”

You looked up in surprise, cheeks a bright red. “No, Seokjin-nim, just fixing it,” you laughed nervously.

He queried with a brow stepping closer. “Maybe I can help.” He began assessing the processor looking for any jams. “It looks alright. Nothing seems out of place–”

He spoke too soon.

You decided pressing the button without the top secured was the best idea. With a roar, graham crackers and butter flew out coating you and Jin. The class gasped. Jin let out a depressing noise and wiped the gunk from his face.

“Y/N, stay after class.”

After cleaning up yet another mess, you leaned against the station wanting to bite your nails. Class had ended not too long ago, and it was now empty. Jin instructed you to wait while he went to his office. Your leg shook as you tried to distract your thoughts.

It wasn’t that bad, right?

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Jin entered the classroom, folder under his arm. He looked like he aged a few years in the course of a few hours. With a groan, he set the folder down beside you. You started from the folder to him curiously.

“Know what that is?" he inquired. 

You shook your head. Jin opened the folder revealing your picture with your name across the page. “It’s your progress report for the semester,” he explained, flipping through the pages. “They want me to fail you.”

Your heart sank as you looked at all the failed marks in each of your classes. Lip trembling, you stifled a whimper as he continued. 

“However, I was able to get you one last chance,” he paused, staring at the look of surprise on your face. “As you know, we have a mock service at the end of the week. If you don’t impress the staff, they will fail you, and I can’t do anything about it if it comes to that decision.”

Jin slammed the folder shut, giving you a hard stare, though it softened after a moment. “You’re assigned to desserts. Create something edible, and they’ll pass you for the semester.”

You tugged at your apron, twisting it in your hands. “B-But, what should I do?”

He shrugged, picking the folder up and walked towards the door. “Try not to suck,” he teased before exiting.

You sat there dumbfounded as the news sank in. This mock service could be the end of your culinary career. You had two choices, cry and mope about the situation or put on your big girl pants and kick this assignment's ass. You needed to impress the staff and damn it; you weren’t going to fail.

“Fuck, what am I gonna make?” You sat back down, pondering over the types of desserts you could make. Grabbing the books on the shelf, you flipped through, studying each one.

“Red velvet...no...Lemon meringue...yuck no...Chocolate chip cookies….what am I five?”

Grunting in frustration, you poured over the books filled with millions of recipes until the early hours of the morning. 

Jin found you the next day, drool pooling on one of the books. He walked over, smirking at your sleeping form, impressed to see you so determined to pass. He peeked at your notes curiously. 

“Oh, Y/N,” he whispered, noticing your chef’s hat had fallen over your eyes, exposing your hair, the few tresses tumbling out to rest on your neck. His ears pinked as he brushed the hair aside, causing you to shift and mumble in your sleep. 

Jin stepped back, afraid he’d wake you. He noticed a french cookbook open and grabbed a highlighter. With a grin, he circled one of the recipes and tiptoed back up to the front by the lights.

He cleared his throat, flipping on the switch. “Y/N? Wake up. Class is about to start.”

You yelped, jumping out your seat and looked around in bewilderment. “Oh my gosh! I-I stayed here all night!” You covered your face in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Seokjin-nim. I didn’t mean to.”

Jin hid his smile and put on a neutral expression. “It’s fine. Just be mindful next time.” He walked over, looking at your workspace. “What are you working on?”

You tried to clean up the mess hastily with a snort. “Ah, just something for the mock service, nothing more.”

“Oh? What do you plan on making?” He inquired.

“I–” You glanced down at the scribbles, papers laid askew. You hadn’t figured out what you were going to make! Jin tapped his foot impatiently.

“Well–”

There. Right on the page circled in yellow. “Macarons!” you blurted out.

Jin feigned surprise. “Macarons? Interesting. That’s gonna be a challenge. If done right, they’ll be delicious.” 

You felt flustered by his smile, averting your gaze. “You think I can do it?”

Not a chance in hell. Jin's smile widened, giving you a small pat on the shoulder. “Put your mind to it and study hard. I’m positive you can do it.” He settled against the station tapping his chin. “The problem is you’re too hard on yourself. You need to gain some confidence. Cooking is, by the bare bones, a science; equal and opposite reactions, molecules fusing, you get the gist. However, passion makes it come alive.”

His eyes twinkled as he turned to stare at you. “You have it inside, just got to find a way to let it emerge.”

You bit down on your lip as you lifted your head to see him staring. Your gaze held until the distant sounds of culinary students grew louder. Jin laughed as he walked to the board. He started to write out the assignment pausing for just a moment. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Y/N. I’m rooting for you.”

Now it was your time to get embarrassed. You cleaned up your station, putting the books back on their respective shelves just as the classroom filled. 

Class went by in a blur; your mind was elsewhere. You blurted out the first thing that came to your mind. Now you had to figure out how to make these macarons look and taste spectacular. Your grade depended on it. 

After the last students filtered out, only you and Jin remained. He packed his bag, watching as you looked over the recipe, taking notes as you went along.

He smiled to himself, seeing how determined you were to pass. He walked over, slinging the strap over his shoulder.

“You know,” he began as you sat up from your book to give him your full attention, “a good tip is to separate the egg whites and let them get to room temperature in a ventilated bowl for a bit.” He winked with a shrug. “Just a thought. Good luck.”

You chewed your pen cap nodding. A smile formed as you felt your mood lighten. “Thank you, Seokjin-nim. That helps. Have a good night.”

“Good night, Y/N.” He waved, leaving you in class alone to think. 

You set to work laying out all the ingredients. With a sigh, you glanced at them, ready for war. Rolling up your sleeves, you put on your war face.

“Alright, let’s kick some ass!”

You sobbed on the floor, cheeks covered in flour and sugar. It shouldn’t have been that hard. But after the explosion of flour and you dropped the batter on the floor, all seemed lost. You felt like you’d been defeated until Jin’s face crossed our mind. His smile and reassurance. He was rooting on you to pass. He didn’t want to have you fail out of school. Growling in frustration, you got up, clenching your fists and slamming them on the tabletop. 

“Screw this. I’m gonna pass this class!”

The night of the mock service had arrived. The kitchen buzzed with excitement as the students prepared their dishes for the guests. Ingredients prepped, utensils laid out, it was now or never. You entered the kitchen, securing your apron around your waist and headed over to the pastry section. There was only one other person with you, assigned to the ice cream. 

Giving a quick hello, you took your premade batter and scooped it into a piping bag. As you worked on piping small circles onto the baking sheets, you barely noticed Jin walking in to wish everyone well. He stopped by your counter with a nod. 

“Hello, Y/N. Everything all set?”

You looked up briefly, still focused on your task. “Hi, Seokjin-nim. My filling is already made, just got to bake the cookies.”

Jin nodded in approval, the slight worry at the back of his mind calming as he saw your expression. You seemed so determined to prove everyone wrong. He cleared his throat with an abrupt appearance. “Ahem, yes. Well, good luck. I’ll be out there with other department heads. Just stay confident when you’re introducing your dish.”

He patted you on the arm and scurried out the kitchen. You had no time to consider what his words and actions meant, not when so much work had to be done. You placed the six baking sheets into the oven, still worrying about the amount you had to make. The plan was to make a few and to be set aside for the department heads and make the others as the rest of the guests ordered them. 

The night rolled on as other students cooked their dishes, going out into the dining room once they presented their meal. They’d get a score and walk back in to continue service. Dinner service crept by slowly making you anxious, bouncing on the soles of your shoes. As dirty dishes cleared and dessert utensils staged, you watched as the plates of macarons were served to the main table. With a gulp, you walked out, wringing your apron between your fingers. You could have sworn you heard your heart beating over the soft melodies coming from the speakers.

It felt like an episode of Iron Chef.

Jin looked around at the dishes. “Y/L/N Y/N, please explain to us what you’ve created for dessert tonight.”

You gave a bow, stretching a small smile across your face. “G-Good evening. Tonight, I wanted to tie the themes of this evening's meals together with this dessert. With how rich the dishes were tonight, I thought it would be better to end with something light,” you explained as the jitters slowly disappeared. “I’ve made for you a vanilla bean macaron with strawberry cheesecake filling. You can taste the vanilla beans in the cookies to give you more of a woody, smoky flavor that plays well with the strawberries. I pureed the fruit but added a few chunkier pieces to give it texture.” You took a breath as no traces of nerves crossed your face. “The drizzle was made with powdered sugar to add just a dash of sweetness. I hope you enjoy it.”

Jin held back his smile as he observed you. “Thank Y/N. We’ll make sure to enjoy this.”

You bowed once more and walked back into the kitchen. As the doors swung close behind you, you let out a massive sigh making everyone laugh. You grinned, heading back over to the desserts. The night had yet to end.

It seemed like a successful mock service. Jin came in the back to congratulate them all as everyone cleaned up the kitchen. As he entered, everyone stopped to see what he would say.

“Your grades will be up on Monday,” he said over the loud groan. He held up his hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger. Again, we were very impressed with everyone. Great job tonight.” He watched over the crowd seeing you chatting with a few of the students, a smile on your face. Biting his lip, he wanted to walk over, but instead walked back into the dining room, still embarrassed.

Like always, you were the last to clean your area, but that was alright. The quietness of the kitchen always soothed your nerves. You hummed, wiping down the counters with the sanitizer, almost finished. Surprised, you noticed some extra filling in one of the bowls. Everyone, well, your colleagues, complimented you on how amazing it tasted. To be honest, you only had a small taste before putting the macarons together. You took your finger and swirled some filling on the digit, bringing it up to your lips. You licked it clean off with a soft moan.

“Damn, that is good.”

A noise from behind made you jump as you looked over to see Jin standing in the doorway. You blushed profusely, trying to cover your hands. “Ah, S-Seokjin-nim! I didn’t realize anyone was still here!”

Jin gulped softly, placing his hands in front of him on the counter, feeling himself heat up. He cursed, trying to think of anything, but what he saw: your lips wrapped around your finger divulging in the sweet filling, had him stopped in his tracks. 

“I...ahem...came back to lock up,” he explained, the strain in his voice. His eyes bore into yours as you glanced away.

“Oh! I’m just about done. I’m sorry for making you wait.” You began wrapping the filling to put back in the cooler.

Jin chuckled, rubbing the back of his head, playing with the hair that tickled his neck. “Please don’t rush. Take your time.” He closed the distance, standing on the opposite side of the counter. “I wanted to talk to you about your dessert.”

You dropped the paper towel as you blinked up at him. “B-But I thought grades wouldn’t be up until Monday.”

He drummed his fingers on the counter and shrugged. “Aren’t you a little curious about what they said?”

You fiddled with the utensils biting your bottom lip. “I mean, yeah. I’m scared about failing. Even more worried, they hated it.” Your eyes met his with hope. “H-How did you like it?”

Jin leaned forwards beckoning you to come close with a curled finger. “You want to know?”

Your head bobbed eagerly. “Yes. Please Seokjin-nim, I wanna know.”

Being this close to him, you noticed the flicks of hazel in his eyes, the fullness of his lips—that chiseled face. Wait, why were you ogling your instructor?! You gulped softly as his eyes lingered on your lips, then back up to your eyes.

“I–”

Loved it.

“Hated it,” he replied.

You felt the air deflate from your lungs as your jaw dropped. Eyes bulging, someone could have knocked you over with a wooden spoon. He looked so relaxed at your expression, still staring. He hated it?! But why? How? It was the best thing you made, and it was edible?! Your lip trembled as the lump in your throat formed.

Jin burst into a fit of giggles, only making you even more confused and suddenly angry. He gasped through the tears, broad shoulder shaking. 

“You should see your face, Y/N! I need a picture.”

You huffed balling your fists. “I’d love to know what the joke is, Seokjin-nim.”

He wiped the tears away, chuckling softly. Coughing, he finally was able to calm down. “That was rude. Forgive me. I couldn’t help it.” He smiled brightly. “I’m just not a fan of flavored strawberry foods.”

You whimpered, collapsing against the counter as a sob wrecked your form. You wailed as all the emotions and stressed pent up from the week came crashing down. Jin ran over to the other side, wrapping you in a hug. Another squeak passed your lips as warmth engulfed you. He rested his chin on the top of your head. 

“Please don’t cry Y/N. I-I don’t want to be the cause of any tears you shed. Please.”

This was unexpected. Your tears stopped as you felt nervous in his arms, perplexed even. Why was he holding you? Still, it was nice to be carried like this, even if he was your instructor. 

You wiggled in his arms, looking up at him. A scowl twisted on your face. “That wasn’t very nice, Seokjin-nim.”

He brought his thumb up to wipe the stray tears. “I’m an idiot. Can you forgive me?”

You gave him a teary smile and nodded. “I couldn’t stay mad at you if I tried.”

He grinned, still holding you. “Why is that?”

“I like you,” you blurted out, cheeks reddened. Crap, he wasn’t supposed to know that.

Now it was his turn to turn red. He grinned, bopping you on the nose gently. “That makes two of us. I like you too,” he said shyly.

Your mouth gaped open. “Seokjin-nim–”

“Call me Jin, Y/N,” he ordered, eyes glittered with mischief.

You blushed once more with a giggle. “Okay, Jin.”

He laughed, pulling you at arm’s length to hold your hand. “You’re gonna pass. And to celebrate, I’m taking you out tomorrow. Sounds good?”

You stood on your tiptoes and gave him a gentle peck on the cheek. “Sounds sweet.”

[kennedycatherine]

04.27.21

We were thirteen and I knew enough to know that was absurd.

We still inhabited a school yard with children learning their ABC’s. Girls our own age hadn’t yet graduated out of training bras.

Aren’t our brains like, too underdeveloped for this?

A few nights I just watched.

They came in fun colours, like the vitamins my mom still set out with my breakfast.

I found the whole thing anxious and boring. Anxious because it was drugs, and we were thirteen and what if we got caught or what if something happened. Boring because they bored me.

Nothing happened.

I made sure they had water and popsicles and candies to suck on.

“You’ll bite your tongue off,” Kallie had said one night.

A small trickle of blood came from her mouth awhile later and she looked pleased. I knew she’d done it. When I looked at her, I wanted to call her a liar.

“I know,” I wanted to say, “I’m sober. You just did that to yourself.”

I felt very young and very old all at once.

They asked for lotion. Lotioned themselves from head to toe.

One night one of the girls did a runner. Just opened the front door to suburbia and took off down the street in nothing but skimpy shorts and a tank top into the chilled night air.

I worried about her, but I didn’t go after her.

There were babies to look after, real babies. 6 years old and one year.

I don’t remember their names, but I remember loving them. I remember feeling sad for them.

Every weekend their mom would leave. She was pretty and young and had a thirteen-year-old she trusted to handle things.

“Where does she go?”

“To the bars in some small town. I think a guy lives there.”

They had family photos in the house. She had a husband. I remember wondering how things had fallen apart so quickly? They’d had a baby only a year ago and now they were getting a divorce?

Except they weren't. He just worked out of the city for months at a time and neither of them cared, I suppose.

I sat on a bed with the 6-year-old once, playing a game or reading a story and I heard laughter downstairs and I was so angry.

I was angry that no one cared that there were children upstairs. I was angry that I was going to put a child to bed who had a mother but seemingly didn’t. I was angry that I had to do it at all, that I was expected to. That it had come to mean relief when I walked in the door. If I was there, it was handled. I didn’t want to handle it.

I wanted to call my mom.

I wanted to tell her what was happening, tell her that someone needed to hold these babies or feed them right and love them. Because surely, I didn’t know how.

But I didn’t want to ruin the fun. I didn’t want Kallie’s mom to be in trouble. I didn’t want my mom, who also had a seventeen-year-old who just couldn’t seem to keep it together, to realize that a house she’d deemed safe by proximity in our good neighbourhood probably wasn’t.

“Give me one.”

No one teased or questioned it. They just handed over the small plastic bag.

I don’t remember what it felt like, only that I didn’t care for it. I didn’t understand it. I was bored by it.

I stopped going. Those girls decided they hated me. I worried about those babies and over 10 years later, I still do.

I started to see my childhood best friend, Maddy, a lot after that. She was pretty and athletic and loud and adventurous and young, my age but, young.

She lived a few blocks away, in the opposite direction from Kallie.

Her mom was in the midst of a divorce. She was older than most of the moms because Maddy had been a “surprise.” A blessing, she’d say, but a surprise. So, the rest of her kids were grown and gone. She’d done it all, seen it all.

We were in the eighth grade, just a few months away from high school when she offered to buy us booze.

She promised it would stay within the walls of the house, my parents wouldn’t have to know. She just wanted us to get a feel for it so we could test our limits, learn our boundaries.

When she presented us with those sickly-sweet orange coolers, I winced. Alcohol had never really interested me. I didn’t feel mystified by it or interested in it.

We drank them anyway.

We had one each. Then shoved two more under our thick sweaters and walked to the nearby park.

There were always kids there, in that strange age range where you have some sense of freedom without actually having any and you crave it, always. You know how to sneak alcohol, ask people outside the convenience store to buy you cigarettes.

Uncool teens, acting very cool leaning against slides and monkey bars we earnestly used only a few years earlier.

By then I’d decided I liked Logan. He was in high school already, two years older than us, seemed nice enough and attractive enough to like, so I guessed I did. I showed him the stashed coolers under my sweater and shivered when the air hit me. He offered me his jacket.

I was only wearing it maybe a minute, not even long enough to brag, when the sirens hit and the park was lit up with red and blue. Everyone scattered in different directions. We hopped a fence and then another and another until we collapsed on her lawn, one cooler lost to our epic and brave journey.

The patrol car circled the block.

“It’s almost 2am,” they told us. We nodded.

They asked how old we were and I told them we were 16.

Maybe they believed us because it was dark but maybe they didn’t because we weren't.

“Do you live here?”

“Yes.”

“Go inside.” We did.

I didn’t drink much after that. All we could get our hands on were drinks that seemed to be a half pound of sugar and something that tasted like mouth wash. The group favourite was Troika which smelt like hand sanitizer and cost about $25 for more than a litre. Everything was vodka.

Every time I drank any of it, I was immediately and violently ill.

My entire body would flush, an ache in my collar bones that radiated and buzzed down my arms and go on and on and on until I’d have to peel my clothes off and stick myself to the coldest surface, let my body wretch and wretch until I’d vomited everything.

I’d find out a few years later that I’m alcohol intolerant with a vodka allergy.

But I’d given up trying long before then. Found my way to pot.

I loved it immediately. It calmed me down, it made me laugh. It made me hungry.

I suffered far fewer embarrassing stories and hallway whispers than most.

I had a starring role in only one story that would go down in infamy.

There’d been a birthday party, someone had made an ice cream cake that was immediately forgotten in favour of solo cups and bongs. I smoked my own joint and remembered that cake. In a haze I found myself alone in a tiny storage room, in front of a deepfreeze. Opening the lid, there it was, creamy and beautiful.

“Fuck yes.”

Then the door opened.

I turned and there he was. The hottest guy in our grade and he’d been calling me a dirty hippie for two years. I closed the lid.

“What are you doing?” He asked

“Waiting.”

“For?”

“You.”

He looked confused. He should've. I had no reason to be waiting for him, I hadn’t even spoken to him. I was 16 and stoned and I wanted to eat an ice cream cake at this dumb birthday party by my fucking self. I pushed myself on top of the freezer.

“Come here.”

He did. We made out on top of the freezer until I felt he was sufficiently distracted, and my job was done and then I pushed him out of the room.

Then I ate some of that cake alone as I’d intended.

Upstairs my best friend sobbed in a bathroom. Even now that we’ve long outgrown teenage angst and hormones she can be prickly, angry, deeply unaffectionate. Then, she was slightly volatile. She wanted to be alone, but I stayed – shoved myself into a corner of the bathtub as she refused to look at me or tell me what she was so upset about it. I waited her out. Mostly because I was stoned and relieved to be in a room away from a throng of sweaty, horny 16-year-olds.

Suddenly, she confessed something to me quietly. She’d made out with that same guy - the hot one I’d been with on top of a freezer - at a party the weekend before. I hadn’t known and she hadn’t stopped thinking about him, and he hadn’t looked at her since.

“I just want him,” she whined.

“I just made out with him on top of a freezer.”

She turned her startling green eyes on me. “You what?”

“I don’t know,” I felt deeply guilty, “there was a cake inside.”

She choked and then she laughed and then I laughed. We left and we laughed the whole walk back to wherever we slept that night.

I went to a performing arts college that had less than twenty students which became lesser and lesser as we viciously vied for the same thing. There were no parties or binge drinking or even any outings. We worked quietly and quickly, most kept to ourselves.

If school really was a competition, I won.

My instructor called me into his office, “I want you to go to this interview. You’re ready.”

I wasn’t supposed to be graduating for at least 3, maybe 4 months. I wasn’t ready. But I went. I got the job and I left, the school and the city.

I was alone and I was terrified, and I was working most hours of everyday and waking up every morning feeling like I’d made a massive mistake. I hadn’t. I was just 19 with no idea what I was doing, only that people seemed to believe I could, and I didn’t know why.

My sister and my grandfather became sicker and sicker with addiction.

I stopped smoking pot almost completely. I’d found alcohol that didn’t upset my entire system, but I never drank by myself. I was afraid that if I did, I wouldn’t stop. I’d fill the hole and then just like them, I’d never learn how to be whole on my own. I went for runs and I journaled and worked and tried to make friends.

I drove home for graduation and realized a few things. These people had three more months together. They were closer, most of them resented me for being given an opportunity that most days I wasn’t even sure I wanted.

There was a party afterward and I felt 13, lonely and bored. I wanted to leave.

My sister was really sick by then.

The best friend I’d made in school, Elliot, he cornered me in the empty kitchen. Most people had settled into the living room for conversations or the basement for beer pong and I hovered in the kitchen, feeling entirely silly in my cheap white dress. Elliot smelled like whiskey while he hugged me, and I wanted to cry. I'd missed him.

We’d had plans to get jobs together. We were going to become a morning show duo in some city we’d never been to, rent a house together. Spend our afternoons drinking beer, planning our show content and break into big markets before we were 25.

I cried when I took the job that meant those things wouldn’t happen and he’d hugged me then too. He was happy for me.

He pulled out of the hug in that kitchen and looked at me for a long time, with big open eyes. A nearly childish, wide stare. He took a deep breathe.

Then he told me he was in love with me.

I startled backward away from him and hit my hip hard against the stove. I was angry immediately. Because I was gay. Because people had been telling me he was in love with me. Because I chose not to believe them. I felt my trust had been broken. Because why? What can I do with that? I loved him. I couldn’t be in love with him. If I could, I would’ve wanted to be. He was so good.

And I was so mad because he was drunk.

I was sick of whispered late-night confessions and people telling me things that weren’t true. I was tired of people making promises to me and telling me they loved me and none of it mattering. I was just so fucking sick of everyone being wasted on something all the time.

It wasn’t his fault. I’d always felt loved by him, I appreciated him, I loved him. I wanted to be gentle with him. I should’ve been. It was just… there were so many things.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” I asked him.

“I just needed you to know.”

I left. He called me so many times, he left voicemails I deleted, and I never answered. I went back to my small town and my small job the next day. I re-read his texts, “I’m sorry, I was drunk” over and over and felt no relief in his excuses.

I didn’t drink for a long time.

A man I thought I knew told me he was in love with me.

I found my sister cold and blue on a floor, medically dead, though she miraculously survived.

My grandfather vomited on himself in the back of a van as we took him to the dry out centre where he'd eventually become sober for a brief time.

I was so tired.

When I moved back to the city, I found comfort in things again. I could drink and be fine. The world didn’t end. I didn’t crave it in the morning or when things got hard. I started smoking pot again. It calmed me down, it made me laugh. It made me hungry.

I took mushrooms a handful of times with my friends. I cried the first time because I felt like me. Present and responsible and in control and so deeply, disappointingly myself. I’d wanted drugs to be a void, even if I never took them. I wanted to believe that somewhere there was a way to just not be myself for a while.  

I was bored of myself.

I wanted to escape, and it wasn’t happening.

But the second or third time I learned to enjoy them for what they were and felt all too proud for simply having a nice time.

I begged my roommate to come to this EDM show with me. It was my co-worker’s birthday and she’d always been excessively, exceedingly lovely to me. When she sheepishly asked if I would be interested in going to this live show to celebrate her 37th, I swallowed down the price of tickets and said yes. Emphatically.

Matt, good natured and so easy, said yes. He liked live music and whiskey and leaving the house.

We got there and she was alone.

I asked about her husband. He stayed home with the baby. And her friends?

Coming, she said.

There were three of them. I thought back to days she’d cried to me in the bathroom and the coffees we’d shared in her office. I’d always thought of her as a sort of leaky faucet, spilling out without control. I hadn’t realized I was actually just in her circle. One of five.

She got adorably drunk. “Mom’s night out!” They all chanted and Matt and I stood off to the side a bit while I apologized to him on a loop for painting this night as an in and out affair.

“We can just leave whenever, I'm sure she won’t notice.” I’d said.

Eventually she asked me if I wanted to “score” in the alley. I laughed because it sounded so seedy and suspicious coming from the mouth of this quintessential suburban mom who I only knew as a woman sitting in a blazer, in an office, next to her family portraits.

I asked Matt if he wanted any. No, he’d brought his vape pen.

We went outside, me, her and her curvy friend with the insane curly hair. Some guy was already there, and the exchange was quick. She turned back and announced, “to the bathroom.”

The bathroom? Fuck.

It’d seemed seedy and suspicious because it kind of was. “Dumb stoner,” I thought to myself as we marched back inside with the bag of cocaine I’d thought would be a Ziplock of weak weed.

I don’t like coke. It makes me angry.

She lined it up, wide eyed, on the hard back of her red wallet. She yammered and mumbled and stumbled over her words quickly and excitedly. It’d been years, I couldn’t tell anyone at work, her husband could never find out, was I sure?

Once again, I felt bored. “I’m sure.”

The friend took her bump and turned back to me, “what’s your sign?”

“Cancer.”

Her eyes were frenzied, like I’d said something important.

“I knew it, I’m a Scorpio.” She wound her fingers into the hair at the back of my neck and whispered to me, “we’re like sisters.” Then she kissed me, hard and square. Her breath was sour, her lips were chapped and she pulled away with a toothy grin before offering the wallet up to my nose.

I looked at them, their excitement, I felt the overwhelming emptiness in my chest. I felt sad for someone, them or me, and how dull I found the whole thing to be.

I sniffed it through a receipt from a kids play centre and wondered, idly, if there are people who think mothers don’t behave this way.

I wiped and sniffled and felt the light burn in my twice broken nose, now irritated by thin white powder.

“Well, that took for-fucking-ever,” Matt yelled over his whiskey.

“It wasn’t pot.”

“Did you do it?”

“Yeah.”

He laughed, slung his arm around my shoulders and we moved into the crowd of dancing bodies. Mostly I felt sober and a little annoyed about the money I’d spent.

I found the group, buttoned one of their torn open shirts and hugged them goodbye.

Matt checked his watch in the cab, “we have to be up in like, less than 5 hours” he groaned and then called the wing place to make sure we could have some delivered.

He’s a sneaky drunk. You never know until it’s too late. As he poured himself a whiskey at our bar cart, I knew it was too late.

We settled into the couch, waiting for our food. He kept dozing off and I kept saving the glass tumbler he refused to relinquish, from falling to the floor and sloshing all over our new carpet.

When the food arrived, I ran to get it. I had the energy.

I decided to take the stairs and took a turn too sharply, smashed myself against a railing and yelped in pain. A bruise blossomed on my arm before I got back to our apartment.

I tried to sleep and kept waking with my knees knocking and my thighs wobbling. Matt came to my door, bleary eyed and dull. It was 6:30am. I hadn’t slept for more than seven minutes at a time.

“We gotta go, G.”

I looked at my packed bags on the floor. We were driving to his moms, 2.5 hours away.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

He turned away and called over his shoulder, “Happy Easter.”

Jesus, I laughed, it is fucking Easter.

And while I sipped my third mid-afternoon coffee over a card game with his mom and sister, I thought - I guess if there’s a day to decide I probably n​ever have to sniff anything through my nose ever again, Easters as good as any.

[victorianoir]

Why don't you write more fluff??? That's what we really want to read. Not that the other stories are BAD they aren't but I think a lot more people would rather read the fluff, not all of the plot stuff. There are other writers who seem to get that and that's why they get more attention and reviews. Not a criticism. Just advice. :) Keep writing!!

This is …………………………………. a lot to unpack. 

Like, there’s a lot going on here. 

Let me just say first, that I do have quite a few stories that are fluff. One shots and full-fledged, multi-chapter stories. But most of my stories, especially the ones that tend to get less “attention and reviews” aren’t about physical intimacy or outright verbal declarations of love. The connection is deeper and it presents itself in different ways. Dare I say it, there’s…friendship.

So, like, yeah…it took Chuck Versus the Steampunk Chronicles’ Chuck and Sarah 45 chapters to kiss, but instead I built trust there. I had them slowly opening up. I gave them moments of utter dependency, and then counteractive moments of independence. Moments of quiet devotion. Protectiveness. Keeping one another on their respective toes. Butting heads, honesty… It’s easily the universe I’ve worked the hardest on. Every look and word means something. Chuck and Sarah and their relationship are the moral backbone of the entire freaking thing. Would folks consider it fluff? Nah. They aren’t sucking face or saying “I love you”. Are there many readers? Nah. Not really. Especially not anymore. And that’s okay. I’m not going to change how I write it to appeal to the masses. 

All that being said, oh my God, so many of my fics have fluff. The Detective and the Tech Guy is DRRRRIPPING with it. Oh my God, they’re two dorks in love solving mysteries together. They drink martinis and have sleepovers and make jokes about money and worry about one another’s safety.

Chuck Versus the Dive??????? Fluff central. Come on! It’s literally Chuck on vacation in Kauai falling in love with his scuba instructor. The plot is them being around each other and not quite knowing how to deal with their powerful feelings. THAT’S IT.

Like, I get it. I don’t write what you specifically want me to write. And yeah, my stories don’t get the recognition or reviews that a lot of writers’ who do write the fluff you like get. I’m writing this for free. Folks can read and review, or they can not. I’ll keep writing if I want. I’ll stop writing if I want. That’s it.

And listen, I’ve been posting Chuck fic since 2012. That’s 8 years. And before that I wrote fic for another fandom. I don’t need advice on how to get hits and reviews when that’s not why I write. If I wanted that, I’d go write for something that didn’t end 8 years ago and is way more popular. I don’t need to be condescended to. “There are other writers who seem to get that”, mhm yes I’m stupid. I’m writing these plot/character growth stories because I don’t realize that having Chuck and Sarah screw in chapter 1 and all the chapters thereafter would get me more recognition from the 57 people on this planet still reading Chuck fic at all. If I only had a brain, huh?

I mean, damn, this ask is a rollercoaster. “You write crap plot instead of fluff and that’s why nobody likes your writing, people who do write fluff are way better and more popular, NOT CRITICISM JUST ADVICE… KEEEP WRITINGGGGG.”

The fact is, you came to ME to tell me what kind of stories to write, which means you have read my stuff and you’ve liked it enough–just the way it is–to seek me out and try to make *specifically my brain and heart* write the fluff you want to read. So I must be doing something right, eh? 

In summation, I’ll keep doing what I want. Thank you.

[talpup]

I’m gonna request #49. “You think I’m jealous? Trust me, buttercup, you haven’t even seen jealousy.” With Shouta and Anna. NSFW if possible and you can just surprise me with the rest. 😁

FYI, I changed the ‘buttercup’ to Kitten.  Thanks for the request!  If anyone else wants to make a request, I’ll still take them.

Note: This scene happens after Abril’s death and before Shouta leaves hell, about six month after the remembered scene in chapter 10.

**Smut starts after keep reading.**

Hawks landed in the castles courtyard, hurrying up the steps and entering the main hall.

“Anna, I’m back!”  The Archangel called loudly.

“My Lord, doesn’t need to yell.”  Scolded a stern looking woman.

“Luna. May I remind you this isn’t your castle, you only work here.” Hawks said, effectively telling the Chief Maid that he could do as he pleased.

“You also don’t need to fly and land in the courtyard like that.” The woman went on.  “It scares the dogs and horses.”

“Don’t know why we even have dogs and horses around.”

“Because, some of us can’t fly and require regular meals.”  The Witch said, pointedly.

Hawks feigned appalled shock.  “You ride the dogs and eat the horses!” Honestly he wouldn’t be surprised if the woman ate horses or dogs, she was a Witch and witches were known to be disgusting.

“I’ll set those dogs to hunt you.”  Luna threatened.  “The Mistress asked me to make this place seem as regular as possible, so the peasantry don’t amass and storm the place thinking witches and demons live here.  Though you ruin all my efforts by flying about the way you do.”

He understood why Reyanna ordered Luna to make the place seem normal. Concealing such a vast structure would be an unnecessary hassle and peak the interest of heaven, hell, and Thirds who would be able to see past such spells.  It was far easier to let the humans think that they were just regular people in a regular castle, and focus on wardings that kept the Host, hell-spawn, and Thirds out.

“Humans can’t see my wings, or see me when I fly.”  Hawks dismissed.

Luna crossed her arms.  “I see you fly and your gaudy wings.”

Hawks glared.  His wings were one of his best features.  They were not gaudy.

“You’re a witch.  Where’s your Mistress?”

“My Lady is entertaining a visitor.”  Luna answered, concerned disapproval supplanting her usual astringent tone.

“Visitor?”

“That dark Daimon she’s so fond of.”  Luna elaborated, sniffing in displeasure.

Hawks’ wings bristled at that.  Aside from Lucifer, Toshinori, and Kai, Aizawa was the greatest threat to Reyanna in his opinion.  Yet Reyanna always left a way open for the Daimon to get through the properties barriers.

“I don’t care one lick for you, but at least you’re not connected to hell and bringing all sorts of risks and dangerous every time you come around.”  Luna declared.

Hawks lived here, but he understood what the woman meant.  If Aizawa really wanted Reyanna safe, as he claimed. If he truly loved her, as he professed. Then the Daimon should stay away.

“At least your attempts at playing Lord and Master don’t threaten this place and my Lady.”  She went on.

Hawks turned, feathers puffing out.  Did the Witch just say he liked to play house with Reyanna?  Though she wasn’t entirely wrong, that was beside the point.  He spun around and made for the stairs, Luna chasing after him.

“My Lady said she didn’t want to be disturbed!”

Luna’s words just made Hawks’ feet move faster.

“I’m sure she did.”  He grumbled.

“My Lord!  You can’t just go barging in!”

That made Hawks pause, Luna bumping into him.  He continued climbing. Should he dare?  Enter Reyanna’s chambers without knocking?  Surely the door would be locked.  There was little doubt what he would see. The idea both enticing and distasteful considering who she’s with

Hawks reached Reyanna’s chamber door and banged on it.  “Anna, I’m back!”

Shouta lifted his head and slowly turned to the closed door, a snarl curling his lip.

Reyanna jumped at the sudden knock.  Damn it! She had told Luna she didn’t want to be disturbed.  The woman might not approve of her accepting Shouta’s irregular calls to the castle; but Luna’s unique interpretation of a servants code of service had her strictly adhering to any direct orders.

“Tell him to go away, before I make him go away for good.”  Shouta growled out, turning to face her.

Reyanna swallowed, wiggling in the air, her Lover’s deep, gruff voice doing things to her.  She would have placed a calming hand to his bare chest if her hands weren’t tied behind her back.

There was no need for Reyanna to call out anything.  The two heard some harsh, heated words whispered back a forth between Luna and Hawks, followed by the sound of the Archangel and Witch departing.

“Sorry.”  Reyanna apologized.  She shivered at the fiery possessiveness shining in the Daimon’s dark eyes.  “I told her I didn’t–”

“Stop squirming.”  Shouta commanded, sharply.

Reyanna fell silent and forced herself to be still.  She hadn’t even realized she was wiggling nervously in her bonds; but the way she swayed from the beam she hung from, her toes barely brushing the floor, told her she had been.

“Do you know how much planning and risk goes into getting away from hell and meeting you like this?”  Shouta asked, circling around her, his fingertips grazing her naked body as he did so.

“Yes.  That’s why–”

“That was rhetorical.  Hush.”  Shouta silenced.

Reyanna pressed her lips together, keenly aware Shouta was angry and she was at his mercy.  Of course she could get out of such simple, non-spelled, ties if she really wanted to, and Shouta would never truly hurt her; but that knowledge didn’t mean much where her body’s reaction was concerned.  Once again she unconsciously started squirming, her hips dancing, legs squeezing together.

Shouta’s gaze panned over her, smirking internally at the display.  Though the thought of how Hawks had disturbed them.  How Hawks had presumed to bang on his Love’s door and inform her he was back, as if the Archangel’s insignificant presence mattered one speck to his Kitten, made him frown.

Their time together was precious, sporadic, and never long enough, and yet the Archangel that lived with her had interrupted their time together.  The Archangel that lived with her…

Shouta ground his teeth.  Just because Hawks watched over and protected Reyanna when he or Hizashi couldn’t, didn’t mean that Shouta was grateful.  If anything, he hated Hawks all the more for the Archangel’s free, unattached ability to look after his Love.  It made Shouta want to remain and drive Hawks away, so he could see to Reyanna’s safe keeping himself.  But he couldn’t leave hell yet.  Not until he had some certainty that she was safe from Lucifer and Kai.

“Our time together is short enough as it is.  I won’t abide disturbances.

“I said, sorry!”  Reyanna sassed.

“I don’t want your apology.  I want to hear that it won’t ever happen again.”

Something about his tone and behavior was turning her on and making her mad at the same time.  Because of this she snipped.  “I can’t control what other people do.”

Shouta smacked her bare ass, making her jump.  Cute, he thought seeing the way her legs squeezed together at the spank.

“Someone seems to have forgotten the way of things.”  He said, voice lightly scolding.  His hand smoothed over where he struck, though the spank had barely been hard enough to pink-en the skin.  “When I tell you to do something, you obey.”

“That was back in hell, when you were my Instructor.  I do what I want now–”  She yipped, another slap hitting her ass, this one harder.

“No doubt a great many things have changed for you in the two years since you left hell.  This isn’t one of them.  You will obey me, same as you ever did, and will continue to do so for the rest of our days.  Am I understood?”

Reyanna glared at him, her bratty pout ruining the fearsome image and making Shouta internally fawn over her.

His expression remaining as unaffected as ever, Shouta questioned.  “Do I need to remind you what happens when you don’t obey?”

“What?”  Reyanna asked, sourly.  “You gonna give me extra lessons?”

Shouta pressed his aching cock against her hip.  “Oh, I’ll give you a lesson alright Kitten.”

Her breath caught, eyes lowering to the tented black fabric.  She had somehow forgotten he still had his pants on, which strangely made her feel all the more helpless in her bound, nakedness.

Suddenly he stood back and spun her around.  She was tied in such a way that the pull of the twisting cord that she hung from tightened but didn’t become uncomfortable.

“Shouta!”  Reyanna squealed, legs flailing before stretching down in attempt to stop herself from spinning.

All she managed to do was slow herself down, as her toes brushed the floor.  She began to turn in the opposite direction and cursed.

“Shouta.”

The Daimon chuckled.  His eyes roved over her.  She looked like the finest of treats hung up and on display, just asking to be enjoyed and savored.  His mouth watered.  Licking his lips he hummed, finding that remnants of her arousal still clung to them.  Her taste drove his thirst for her all the higher.

Stepping back to her, he gripped her hips, and stopped her spinning.

“Where were we?”  He asked, returning to his knees.

All ire at her Lover’s treatment left the instant Shouta licked a long stripe up her swollen folds.  Reyanna sucked in a breath when his fingers spread her lower lips, exposing her completely to him.

“So pretty.”  Shouta murmured, taking in the sight of her wet heat.

“Shouta.”  Her tone completely different from the stern, scolding of before.

Shouta grinned up at her.  “What’s the matter Anna?  All that stubborn pride and willfulness suddenly gone?”

“You said it yourself, our time together is short.  It would be illogical to see it wasted over petty grievances.”

He arched an eyebrow, thumb pressing lightly against her clit.

“True.”  He agreed.  “But I will take the time to show you just how dependent you are on me.  Give you a refresher lesson on who you belong to.  That way when that crimson feather bird brain knocks on your door, you don’t hesitate to send him away.”

What?  Was she actually in trouble and going to be punished for something that wasn’t her fault?  She had told—pleasure made her mind go blank.

Shouta smirked around her clit, humming in response to her moan.  Damn.  He love how vocal she could be.  Loved her sweet taste and heady smell.  He gave a light suck before moving to tease her entrance with his tongue.

Reyanna whined, Shouta’s tender sucks and light lapping tongue far more teasing than purposeful.  It was more like he was licking the honey off a treat.  Sampling instead of feasting.

When he finally pushed his tongue inside her, it nearly took her breathe away.

Reyanna bit her lip, swallowing the thank you that almost slipped out of her mouth.  She would be damned if she was going to feed his already inflated ego.

Shouta felt her begin to flutter and clamp down of his invading tongue.  His eyes flicked open to stare up at her.  Damn. She was beautiful.  Her musical moans, quivering body, and cute scrunch of her sweet face almost made him give in and let her have her orgasm. But he had said he was going to remind her who she belonged to.  Show her just how dependent she was on him.

Reyanna gave a whining growl of frustrated disappoint when Shouta pulled back, leaving her at the edge of her peak.

“Shouta.”  She said, her voice once again stern and scolding.

Shouta licked her juices from his lips.  “I told you.  You’re getting a lesson.”

“What happened to our time together being short?”

Shouta’s smile showed too many teeth.  “Short as it is, I’ll always take the time to savor you, Kitten.”

Seeing the smile she loved so much made Reyanna’s heart flutter.  She would do anything.  Tolerate and suffer anything.  Just to see him smile like that at her.

She groaned, hips swaying as his thumbs rubbed circles into them.  She needed him to touch her; and though he technically was, it wasn’t in the way she wanted.

He put his mouth to her once more, alternating between licking and thrusting his tongue into her.  He brought her to the edge again, and pulled back just before she went over.

“Shouta!”  She thrashed in her bindings.

“What’s the matter Anna?  Do you want to cum?”

“You know I do.  Why are you being mean and teasing me?”

Usually he did it for the fun and control of it, but this time there was a clear purpose behind it.

“I told you.”

“So you want me to know that I’m yours and only you can please me.  Fine!  Consider me reminded.”

Shouta slowly rose to his feet, his eyes never once leaving hers.  “You got the reasoning of it, but aren’t anywhere close to showing you know and accept those facts.”

His heated gaze and low, stern voice had Reyanna showing the first signs of breaking.  “Just tell me what you want.  I’ll do it…so long as it’s reasonable.”

Proud, willful Kitten, Shouta thought.  If only she hadn’t added that end tag, he might have ignored the lack of pleading in her tone and shown mercy, telling her.  Instead she earned herself another edging, this time with his thick fingers.

“Shouta please!”  Reyanna whined when he pulled away again.  “I want to cum.  Tell me what you want!”

“So close.”  Shouta tisked.

His Love was still making demands.  Still carried an edge of authority to her voice, like she was the one in control here.

“I may end up drawing this out just because you’re being so difficult.” Shouta said, his deep, rumbling voice feeding the heated arousal in her core.

“How is saying, tell me what you want and I’ll do it, being difficult?  If anyone’s being difficult it’s you.”

“Clearly this is a lesson you were in dire need of revisiting.”  Shouta sighed.  “I’m almost glad Hawks disturbed us.”

“Hawks?”  Reyanna questioned, her needy, deprived system making her forget how Shouta had brought up and called the Archangel a crimson feathered bird brain near the start of this torment.  “What does this have to do with Hawk–”

“Don’t say his name.”  Shouta snapped as he spanked her sharply, his jealously making his hand come down harder than intended.

Reyanna squeaked at the stinging burst and blooming heat that followed.  The slap hadn’t been more than she could take, but the surprise and force of it had her squirming.  The slight pain adding to her hungry pleasure, making her writhe.

Recovering, Shouta’s hand caressed her heated butt cheek.

“You don’t say his name.  Not while we’re together like this.  Understood.”

She blinked at him, understanding finally dawning.  “You’re jealous.”

“Jealous?”  Shouta huffed.  “You think I’m jealous?  Trust me, Kitten, you haven’t even seen jealousy.”

Before she could say anything else, his fingers dipped back into her.

When he pulled away again, leaving her literally and sexually hanging, Reyanna knew exactly what she had to say to get her way.

“Shouta please!  I’m sorry!”  She begged, far to desperate for release to care how pathetic she sounded.  “I know I’m yours.  Everyone in the estate knows I’m yours.  There’s no one else I’d rather belong to than you. It’s you who loves me and protects me.  Who makes me feel like no one else ever could.”

His lip curled slightly at that.

“Not that they’d ever get a chance to try.”  She hurried to add.  “I’d never let them.  Cause, I love you.  There will never be anyone else for me.  I was yours long before our first time together.”

Shouta blinked at that.  “You were.”

“Yes.”  Reyanna said firmly, all stress and pleading gone for her voice.  “I gave myself to you long before you claimed me.”

Shouta doubted that, but she was talking about his claiming her during their first time together.

“I love you, Shou.  It kills me being away from you.  I hate it when you leave.”  She huffed.  “Luna chastises me for weeks after, telling me to stop sulking.”

“It breaks me, having to leave you.”  He told, his hand moving to tug at the knots that held her secure.

With a couple pulls she was free of her bonds, though still unable to touch the floor.  She wrapped her legs around his waist, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Then stay.  Please.”

Shouta growled.  “I can’t.  You know–”

She kissed him, not wanting to waste any more time on an argument she had lost countless times already.

He carried her over to the bed, lowering her down, and climbing over her.

“You’re not going to tease me anymore, are you?”

“No.”  Shouta answered, the look in his eyes filled with predatory hunger.  “I’m going to give you exactly what you want, till you’re begging me to stop.”

[atinykidult]

Walk You Home - Lee Chan

[fluff full-length] [summer theme] - 2,762 words

Summary: Set during your summer break, implied neighbor!Lee Chan insists on walking you home after every date. Featuring lots of laughter, a summer job at a burger restaurant, protective older brother!Hansol, and so much fluff.

Inspired by: NCT Dream’s Walk You Home

A/N: Guys! This is my first longer piece, and I edited it like crazy! I bet there’s still tons of mistakes, but thank you so much for reading this! If you like it, please leave me some feedback. So excited to finally post this! Thanks again for reading!

You'd gone on five dates with Lee Chan, who you'd discovered to be the sweetest and most hardworking highschooler to ever exist. Each date had been perfect, ending with him offering to walk you home. Each time, you’d tried to decline. Each time, he’d ignored you.

By the fifth date, you learned to just accept his company and enjoy your time together. (You found plenty to enjoy.)

"So what do you think you'll do this summer?" Chan looked away from the curb he tightrope walked on to smile at you. "Please don't tell me you're disappearing off to the Caribbeans or something."

"My family's too middle class for that." You laughed, then laughed harder as he stumbled off the curb. "Eyesight helps with balance, y'know." You gave him a few seconds to recover before you asked, "Would you miss me?"

"Yes," Chan replied immediately, "very much so."

"'Very much so.'" You laughed again. "Chan, I love you."

You could almost hear him suck a breath in.

"I mean, I love you too," he replied, diligently keeping his eyes on the curb ahead of him, "but I feel like you didn't mean it literally — which I do, for the record."

Now you yourself tripped, and you hadn't been balancing on narrow cement. Noticing your red-cheeked silence, Chan swiftly came to your rescue.

"I'm sorry, Y/N! I shouldn't have said that, huh?" He laughed awkwardly and cleared his throat.

You barely registered him talking while your heartbeat pounded louder than summer thunder.

"Shoulda waited to confess until junior year, right? We're both young — I know — and I shouldn't jump the gun on these things."

Inwardly, you shouted that 'It's not too early at all!'

You made a choked sound, fanning your face desperately, but he didn't look at you. His cheeks had turned red, too, and he busied himself by determinedly staring at the curb.

Suddenly, he stopped walking and pulled you onto the curb behind him.

Your sweaty palm tingled at his soft touch.

"See if you can keep up!"

He took off, letting go of your hand, and bounded over the curb steadily. Hobbling after him, you envied his grace. Although you stubbed your toes and fell off altogether too many times, you welcomed the sudden change in atmosphere. Laughing and bickering, you both tried pushing and tripping each other, moving past the previous interaction with sincerely light hearts. (Really, though, this laughter felt more like a continuation of it.)

Chan and you stumbled to a halt when you reached your mailbox.

"Well, this is me!" you smiled, breathing uneven due to the exertion. "Thanks for walking me home!"

And, old fashioned as it felt, you truly appreciated it.

"No problem — I had fun," Chan replied easily. Sincerely.

"Me too." You shyly met his eyes. "See you soon?"

Seeing him beam at your words, you found yourself wanting to kiss his cheek. You chose not to.

"Obviously."

"Okay, then..." (You really felt like kissing his cheek... No, Y/N. Be a cool date.) "See you!"

"See you!"

You jogged to your porch, then turned to wave as he began trotting away. A smile crept onto your face when you found him already waving back. Your smile only grew wider when he glanced back a few moments after that.

When he noticed you still watching him, his grin matched yours — they were wide, toothy things rivaling the full, pizza pie moon.

'That's amore,' you thought to yourself.

"Good fifth date?" Your older brother, Hansol, interrupted your thoughts when he poked his head out the door. "What's taking so long?"

You jumped a foot into the air and sighed, following your brother inside.

"If he hurts you, I'll kill him," you distantly heard him mutter.

"I don't think that'll be a problem, big bro."

Your first five dates had ranged from late spring to early summer; during your summer break, you only had three more thanks to crazy schedules.

The youngest in an advanced troup, Chan's dance demanded a large portion of his time, which left him little time to himself, let alone enough time to take you out (then walk you home).

Meanwhile, you had found yourself both a first job and a car, thrusting you into the cruel world of customer service and gasoline prices.

"It's horrible!" you complained to Hansol throughout the first three weeks. "I have grease stains everywhere!"

"...It's not that terrible," you hesitantly murmured after a certain Tuesday.

That Tuesday's lunch rush had punished you, your coworkers, and your combined sanity, but you'd made it! Once the crowd left, only you and an empty lobby remained. Pulling out your phone, you nearly cried from relief—

Then the door swung open.

You bit your lip to keep the sob in.

"Hello! Can I get your ord" — you pocketed your phone and looked at the customer — "er?! Chan?!"

Playful eyes (that you felt highly attracted to) met yours. Said dancer lifted his eyebrow. "Y/N?!" he mimicked you, laughing right after.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, exhaustion gone instantly.

"What are you doing here?" he parroted again.

"Oh, stop!" You rolled your eyes, stifling your laughter. "But, really, what are you doing here, Chan?"

He leaned against the counter slightly, turning flirty as he answered.

"Lunch break — we usually pack our lunch, but my friends wanted me to grab burgers today." You vaguely recalled a picture he'd shown you before of his three close dance friends. "We finished a big piece we'd had choreography block on, so we wanted to celebrate!" Chan suddenly bit his lip and back peddled, looking less flirty as he floundered. "If that's a thing — choreography block. Soonyoung calls it that, but it might not be an actual term. Uh, it's like a writer's block, but for dance."

"I get it, Chan." You grinned, laughter bubbling up somewhere between your stomach and heart. "I don't dance, but I definitely understand." Your eyes lingered on the way sweat slicked his hair back. You'd only seen him with bangs; this look suited him. To keep the conversation moving in a way that wouldn't embarrass you, you added, "I didn't know you choreographed!"

You smiled inwardly at his blush and the way he ran a hand through his hair. This only slicked his bangs farther back. (100% a good look, you decided.)

"Yeah, just a little," he replied modestly.

In his hand, his phone screen lit up with a flood of notifications.

"Something up?" you asked.

"Hangry dancers." Chan smiled at you, meeting your gaze charmingly. Your heart jumped as his eyes lingered on yours just too long then brushed over your features.

"Right!" you exclaimed. "You need to order! Hangry dancers —not fun." At his smile, your brain collapsed on itself. "Right."

"Oh, yeah, I might need to do that." Chan bit his lip again, and you died inside. "I might have forgotten..." He showed you his phone screen with a list of burger orders. You were punching them in when he added cheesily, "I'm never good with time when I'm around you."

You died more.

After you'd entered the order — apparently dancers ate their body weight in grease — Chan leaned his elbows onto the counter so he looked up at you. At his puppylike pout, you braced yourself. You'd be cringing or laughing or swooning — there'd be no in between.

"What are your hours?" he asked.

You exhaled in surprise; no emotional response kicked in, and you showed him a copy of your schedule. Nodding along as he skimmed through it, he, at last, gave you a blinding smile.

"You work one night less than I dance, and you leave work around the same time I do." He pointed to your schedule to emphasize his point. "So... Can we walk home together?"

"Uh, I drive now?" you replied unsurely, suddenly wishing you hadn't bought a car.

He cracked a smile. "You do? Congrats!"

"Yep!" you smiled and considered your options. A smile formed on your face when you found a good one. "I'm guessing by you asking that, that you walk to your studio?"

Chan nodded, tilting his head at you curiously. "I walk most places." He added sheepishly, "My parents probably wouldn't have let me dance if it hadn't been so close."

"That'd be a waste," you replied instinctively, though honestly.

He ducked his head, clearly flustered, and ran his hand through his hair, which still looked attractive slicked back, by the way.

"Why," he cleared his throat, "do you ask?"

You closed your eyes for bravery, then answered. "How about I start driving you home?"

His walk to dance took him about fifteen minutes; the drive from his studio to his house lasted about ten.

("There's too many stop signs!" you once complained to him. He'd laughed and jokingly complimented your smooth breaking. Two drives later, you whispered to yourself, 'There's too few.')

Needless to say, you adored your many short rides home with Chan.

Some nights, you and Chan would argue over different artists and why certain songs sounded better than others. Although you often declared war over who should have won yesterday's music show, you could always agree on one artist, The Vocal Unit, if arguments got out of hand.

(Sometimes you felt strongly about your music, okay? Not to mention, these arguments sometimes gave Chan a passionate edge in his voice that you grew slightly — just slightly — addicted to.)

Other nights, you would listen to each other rant about the difficulties of life. Whether it featured you bemoaning your boss or he, his dance instructors, you both made excellent therapists for each other.

Other nights, you would play word games.

Other nights you would discuss deep things, like his fear of injuring himself and ruining his chances. ("ACLs tear so easily," he informed you miserably.) Or you'd share your anxiety over your brother moving out soon.

Other nights, you would randomly pull over to star watch for a few minutes.

Other nights, he would ask you to pull over at the entrance of your neighborhood and steal the aux cord. Then he would pull you out of the car. Then he would wrap his arms around you. Then you would dance with him, feeling like you'd stolen the movie set and accompanying actor from some actress.

(Other nights like this felt more like Footloose or beginner ballet instructionals.)

Other nights — or, rather, one specific night towards the end of summer break — you stopped in front of Chan's house and pulled your key out of the ignition. He'd only just jumped out of the passenger seat, so he poked his head back in.

"Hey, is the car alright?" Chan asked you, frowning as he inspected the vehicle. He didn't notice the keys in your hand.

His head moved closer to yours while he looked at the dash, and you prayed for luck when you grabbed the sides of his face and pushed your lips against his.

You must have been lucky; he kissed back.

His dance schedule changed right as the school year rolled around, bringing the last car ride with him.

"I'm going to miss this," you remarked to him, trying to keep your voice casual. In fact, the change to your schedules felt especially not-casual to you, but what else could you do?

"Aw, me, too!" Chan chirped in reply. Apparently, your attempt succeeded. "Thank you for driving me home all these times! I should repay you for the gas it took."

Because you'd settled this with him before, you sent him a look. Annoying, chivalrous boy — he always wanted to take care of you like King Arthur or something.

He grinned in response. "I may have been kidding, sort of." Taking a deep breath, he avoided your eyes as he continued talking, which told you he was planning something. "But I really do want to make it up to you. For real! And soon."

"Sure." You glanced at him as you flicked on your turn signal. A familiar warmth spread in your chest when you found him inconspicuously peeking at your reaction. "And how do you plan to do that?"

"I'll tell you when you park," he promised you.

"Hmm," you replied lightly. "Do I get a kiss with the explanation?"

He laughed and rolled with your teasing. "Of course! Can't distract you when you're driving, after all."

"Um, excuse you! I'm great at multitasking!"

You had pulled into his driveway and parked the car when he finally made a move, taking your hand in his.

"Hey," he said quietly, instantly turning the atmosphere into something soft.

"Hey," you parroted softly, almost joking, but too invested in meeting his eyes for it to be funny.

"I'm going to really miss these rides, too."

You cracked a faint smile. "But we're still going to hang out a lot, right?"

Chan leaned in, eyes crinkling happily, and squeezed your hand in his. "Of course!"

The weekend after school started back, Chan made good on his promise to pay you back. (He'd forgotten to tell you his plans after you'd closed your eyes and 'invited' him to kiss you into the softest stupor.)

It began with him pulling into your driveway in his own vehicle.

"You got a car?!" You slid into the passenger seat and waved goodbye to Hansol. At Chan's nod, you punched his arm lightly. "Since when?! And why didn't you tell me at school?"

"I thought it would be a fun surprise." Chan bit his lip, eyes sparkling. "You like it?"

"You have to start halving gas and miles with me? Yes please!" You laughed and made a show of winking.

He laughed too and began leaning in to peck your cheek.

"So..." you began. When his lips had almost reached your cheek, you turned your head so his lips landed on the corner of your mouth. "Where are we heading to?" you finished brightly.

Making a sound of protest, Chan took a moment to kiss your lips properly before he hurriedly retreated to his side of the car. His wide, unwavering grin told you that he felt beyond pleased with everything.

"There's this park with a really nice sandwich place near it," he informed you as he turned the key. "I thought we might as well go check it out. A date — to pay you back for this summer... Or start to, anyway!"

"Sounds solid!" You began adjusting his passenger seat to your preference like you owned it. (Chan noticed, and his grin only grew wider because of that. Of course, he had long ago taken over yours.) "I'm so glad you picked sandwiches. Burgers aren't that fun anymore."

"I may have thought of that," Chan replied cheekily.

You snorted and stole the aux cord.

"That song should not — should not! — have won!!!"

The date was all laughter and smiles.

When you wandered around the park, Chan held your hand like the romantic he was. When you got crumbs on your face, Chan cheesily wiped them off for you. When you found the prettiest creek, Chan took photos of you. (You then forced him to pose for his own pictures.)

Altogether, it was a dream.

When Chan drove you back to your neighborhood, the sky had darkened considerably, and the lampposts had already flickered on.

You felt inspired.

"Go to your house," you instructed him.

He glanced at you, brow furrowed. "What?"

"You heard me right..." Your heart fluttered even before you said your next bit. This was cheesy. So cheesy. "I want you to walk me home."

Chan's confused expression transitioned into the brightest smile-eye smile combination of all time. Not missing a beat, he flicked the turn signal and u-turned.

Your face was burning as he parked his car in his driveway and sprinted around to he open your door for you.

Your stomach was fluttering as you linked fingers with him and headed down the road, him balancing on the curb and you on the pavement.

Your heart was swelling with warmth as he stopped to kiss you a block away from your house.

You could feel him lingering with you, could picture his smile, could hear his laughter, even as you laid your head on your pillow and smiled up at the ceiling.

As you smiled like a fool, you shook your head at yourself.

All this from him walking you home.

You bit your lip.

All this from him walking you home, indeed.

[complicatedandstained]

The Other Day at Hot Topic: Cuts

When Saïx walks out of the back office, all the pieces fall into place. Dem and Roxas had told Axel about the sweat and the sweatpants, and that would have been more than enough to put Saïx in a mood, really. If Saïx isn’t dressed to impress, he tends to feel as if he isn’t dressed at all.

But neither guy had been tactless enough to mention what’s really digging under Saïx’s skin. Saïx had been in such a rush to come in to his unstaffed store this morning that he hadn’t concealed the scar across the bridge of his nose. That Saïx feels self-conscious of the mark is the understatement of the century.

Because I look like a damned pirate, Axel, he had bemoaned more than once, sitting in front of his mirror, necktie askew, red-eyed, exasperated. Who’s going to take me seriously as a professional? The Godfather?

Axel had gripped his shoulders, pale green eyes unwavering. So, you take a page from the Godfather. You dress to kill and you make them take you seriously. You’re good at that.

Saïx had taken this advice to heart, thickened his skin to the occasional comments that came when his concealer sweated off in the island heat. He had tried to, anyway. But now the biggest gossip on staff has seen it. And Jesus knows Demyx had asked questions.

So, of course Saïx is in a mood, Zexion. Who wouldn’t be?

Axel doesn’t pause to think about whether Saïx is still irritated with him. He meets him halfway through the store and sets hands on his upper arms.

“Axel,” Saïx tries for cold but he just looks tired, lower lip jutting out, shadows below his eyes where swipes of metallic gold ought to be.  

The scar has never bothered Axel the way that people have told him it ought to. He looks at it and sees strength. Here is someone who overcame, someone who survived. The cuts were deep enough to finally get Saïx’s rabid old man as locked away as he deserved to be—deep enough to keep Saïx safe—so to Axel, the scar is beautiful.

Axel leans in and plants his lips on the broad, faint X. “Hey, Sai,” he murmurs, mouth barely lifting as Saïx’s hands settle on Axel’s bony hips. “Sorry, I’m late.” He presses his lips to the cross again and then to the tip of Saïx’s nose, warm sympathy flooding his chest.

Saïx fingers knead his side gently. “Where’ve you been, baby, hm?”

The words start to freeze the warmth in Axel’s chest, and he pulls back slightly.  

So, one vulnerability has heightened another.

He can’t help but get a little ticked again. All these years of therapy, so much emotional, physical, and general life progress—but when it comes to Axel, some days it feels like all Sai’s learned to do is wrap his possessive jealousy up in prettier, more socially acceptable paper.

Better than being screamed at every time he’d walked in late to fourth period study hall in ninth grade, sure, absolutely—but still kind of exhausting.

He’s lucky I’ve been in love with him since I was five.

Lucky I get it.

Lucky.

But shit. Look, he’s buffer than Rocky (Horror) and incomprehensibly dedicated to a good-for-nothing like me.

I’m pretty damn lucky too.

Axel runs a knuckle down Saïx’s cheek and smiles. “Nowhere special.”

Saïx realizes he’s misstepped and takes a thin breath, brows scrunching, wanting to explain. “Demyx said you were grabbing coffee, and you were gone for an hour, so I didn’t think it was unreasonable for me to wonder...”

Wonder. And send six texts. And torment Demyx. And God knew what next...

Axel closes his eyes. He decides to show mercy and ignore this remark. His fingers lace behind Saïx’s neck, his gaze shifting down to scan Saïx’s workout clothes, getting distracted. “You have no right to look sexier than me in my own damn sweatpants.”

This off-hand observation proves to be a suitable salve to Saïx’s ego, because he smirks and says, level as ever, “I beg to differ. They suit you just fine.”

Axel can’t quite reign in a bark of laughter. Axel is never letting Demyx order anything for him again. “Sai, there’s a reason I put them in your drawer. They’re twice my size; they slip right off of me.”

Saïx’s pale blue brows bounce up emphatically, and his smirk is pointed. “And that’s a problem?”

Oh, so he does remember. The noise Axel feels in his throat is practically a purr as the heat returns to his skin.

“Oh, gross...”

Demyx is choking over all of this verbal PDA, and the couple glance over at his gaping as it evolves into audible sputtering. “Wait.” Demyx freezes, gestures emphatically at the white “THE ORGANIZATION” printed down the side of Saïx’s leg. “Saïx, are you advertising for us? You? How did I not notice that earlier?”

Saïx’s lips turn down. The glare he aims at Demyx knocks him back a step into the rotating piercing fixture. “This,” he smooths the first few letters with a hand, “was supposed to be between me and my pilates instructor.”

“I feel…” Demyx grasps at the empty air and looks as if the ground has split open in front of him to reveal hell itself, “strangely numb.” He blinks at the couple a few times, and Axel and Saïx untangle and separate. “Do you like, listen to our music in your free time? Oh my god. What’s your favorite song on our EP? I’m partial to “Oblivion” myself. Luxord wanted to cut it. He says the best one’s “Dusks”, but I bet you... Oh my god. Unless you think the whole thing sucks.” Demyx pouts, eyes widening, puppy-like. Stumbling forward, he grabs for Saïx’s shirtfront, fingers clinging to the sturdy, ribbed tank. “You don’t, do you?”

Axel doesn’t bother to contain his laughter. He knew Saïx had their EP on his phone, but listening to your boyfriend’s band in private and admitting to being a fan to Demyx are two wildly different beasts.

Saïx does a quick assessment of the store to ensure no customers or other employees have been privy to this bizarre conversation. Satisfied that they’re alone, he slips a blue flyaway behind his ear and proceeds to pluck the fingers from his shirt, one by one, with each pull, a word, “Get. Back. Behind. The. Register. Demyx.”

Axel feels like he’s watching a puppy being denied table scraps.

Stunned, Demyx lets his hands drop and hops upright, spinning on a toe. “Yes, sir.”

Axel sets a hand on Saïx’s shoulder and rubs. The creases in Saïx’s forehead ease.

“And Demyx?”

Demyx twirls back around, face serious, light colored eyes still wide and childishly hopeful. “Sir?”

Saïx catches Demyx’s eye, expression stoic as ever. “I’ve listened to “Oblivion” about five hundred times. Luxord’s an imbecile.”

Saïx makes a point of ignoring Demyx’s unbridled whimper of joy, turning back to Axel with a faint, pleased yet exhausted smile.

“You’re never going to hear the end of this one,” Axel warns, smirking in return, hand on Saïx’s pec, pressing another step closer.

“I…”

“Welcome to Hot Topic, ladies,” Zexion greets with uncharacteristic vigor from his post at the mouth of the store.

Axel assumes it’s a warning to make themselves presentable, and resists the temptation to do the opposite.

Saïx glances to the customers and then to the racks and displays, and Axel knows the slightest imperfection will take him another hour to fix if Axel doesn’t act quickly.

Axel hooks a finger into the neck of Saïx’s tank and murmurs, “Wanna take this somewhere a little more private?” He bounces his brows. “I know where they keep the fitting room key.”

Saïx sighs, but he doesn’t hold back his smile this time. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m joking. Everyone knows Hot Topic fitting rooms are dirtier than Larxene’s lingerie.”

Saïx snorts in spite of himself, expression utterly disgusted, but gestures for Axel to follow him to the office. “If you were on staff, I’d write you up for saying that.”

“For saying that about the fitting room or for saying that about Larxene?”

“Both.”

[imagine-straykids]

Stray Kids reaction to you being a better dancer than them

since you didn’t specify which members, and this was sent after the rule change, I’ll just pick the dance line + some other members. Always feel free to send in another request for the remaining members.

I kind of took this more of as you just being a really good dancer...

Lee Know

“Lee Know, I finally learned the dance to District 9,” you cheered as you ran full speed onto his arms. He only let out a chuckle. “Nice,” was all he could let out. Was he trying to kid with you or what? Because you were trying really hard all week, in hope of impressing him with his own group’s choreography, but all he said was “nice”. Yeah, you definitely don’t look like the type to dance, and maybe your fragile appearance gave it away otherwise, but you’ve been dancing for a long time and you even told him that. Lee Know’s ass is always just too busy to even witness it. “You know, if you want to see it, I can show it to you right now,” you suggested. Lee Know nodded. “Sure, do you want the slow version, or do you want to dance without music first?” his eyes was starting to piss you off in every way. “Lee Know!” you angrily puffed out because his jokes were obviously going overboard. “I’m joking... okay let’s see.” He was blatantly underestimating your skill, but what he didn’t know, was that he was not ready. Because you were popping and moving along to every beat, you didn’t miss a single step in the original dance, and you hit every move right, whether that’s with feet, hands, or just expression overall. When the song ended, you weren’t even sure if Lee Know himself knew. Because all he could do, was stared at you with his mouth dropped, wide opened. And then he started clapping, relentlessly. Scenario aside, I honestly think he’ll be like “damn, girl.” and praise you endlessly. Like “woah, I didn’t know you could do that.” He might even ask you for a dance battle from time to time.

Hyunjin

You were still eyeing your schedule, rushing yourself to find your next class before the bell rings. Here you were, face to face with the door of your dance class. You didn’t dance repeatedly, nor were you too keen on it, but you are a dancer, in as, you did dance once in a while. You had no choice but to go with dance since the other offered classes weren’t really your style. When you got there, everybody was just doing their own thing, chatting with their friends and whatnot. Your anxiety climbs as you didn’t remember a single face up in here, but you took seat either way. Until... “Y/n?” you heard a familiar sound calling your name from the side. You frowned your eyebrows and turned to the owner. It was Hyunjin; your own boyfriend. What the hell. Oh yeah, you forgot he dances too. “What are you doing here?” He asked, as he scooted closer to you, stealing your schedule from your hand. “I uh... dances?” your voice cracked. He only giggled while looking at you, because he really didn’t want to believe you actually dance. You just never told him because there wasn’t really any opportunities. “Are you laughing at me?” you sent him an angry face. “No, I was--” he was cut off by the teacher walking in. He went in about explaining the rules and circumstances of this class and all that jazz. Then when it was over, he has the gut to announce that he would be picking out random student to freestyle. Like is you serious now. Everybody was raising their hands, including Hyunjin. Then there was you, who was trying to be slick by hiding behind Hyunjin’s huge figure. “Ah... you!” The dance instructor pointed to you. “Me?” you pointed back at yourself to confirm. He nodded. fucken shit. “The more you try to avoid it, the more chances you have to being picked,” he stated. Hyunjin, being the supportive boyfriend he was, clapped with his gummy smile, pushing you to the middle of the classroom. Uh. Then some music came on, and lucky enough, you knew the song, so you were really just feeling yourself out there. It was as if you were the only one in the room. You’ve got way into it, that it took a hell lot of clapping from the class for you to snap and realized it was over. “That was great, you may now take your seat.” You felt a huge brick on your chest being lifted, and you sat back down next to Hyunjin. “Wow.” Hyunjin was still clapping. “Hey, wanna be dance partner whenever there’s a chance?” He beamed. “I thought we were already gonna be?” Hyunjin put his arms around you. “Not really, but that was before I thought you sucked.” You harshly pull his arms off of you, and gave him a little slap on the shoulder.

Felix

You and Felix had actually planned a date today. Key word: had actually. Because now, it was canceled due to Felix’s practice. But at least you could still watch over him, and give feedback, so practically it’s still a date? You were over at the corner just watching Stray Kids doing their usual routine and formation, with Chan screeching here and there once in a while because Jeongin kept getting the dance wrong. Or when Jisung would consistently step on Changbin’s toes. It was quite amusing, you couldn’t lie. Watching them doing the same moves over and over, your mind started picking off the process, and soon enough, it was like you could literally dance with them right now. A little about 30 minutes after, all the members went out to take a rest, or to grab a quick lunch, and it was only you and Felix left. You had the lunch packed when you thought you guys were going on a date. “So, how was it?” He asked. “It’s great! Seriously! And I’m starting to think I’m getting too familiar with those steps,” you exclaimed. “Really?” Felix challenged. You only nodded. “Show me then.” He gave ways to you on the dance floor. “If you say so.” You got up without any hesitation and waited for Felix to put on the music. Let’s just say, he was shook for the whole afternoon, and couldn’t stop asking you questions on the way home. “Yes Felix, I’ve been dancing for a few years now.” Questions ran after questions and you had to shut him up real quick.

Bang Chan

Chan had invited you over for a little movie night with the boys, but after only 2 movies or so, they all got tired real quick. “I want to do something else,” Changbin voiced. “Same. I’m starting to fall asleep,” Hyunjin added. “Okay then, what do you guys want?” Chan asked from the younger boys. “Just for fun, let’s have a dance battle,” Lee Know picked the idea. “Awesome! This is my game boys, move aside!” Lee Know stopped Hyunjin. “Amateurs first!” and then suddenly everybody started eyeing you. Oh wow. “Wow, thanks guys. You guys are really considerate.” You rolled your eyes. “Guys, you know my girlfriend can’t dance, don’t do this to her,” Chan chimed in. “Okay then how about you versus her.” Lee Know pushed Chan toward you. “Dance battle!” all the crackheads started shouting. “Let’s just get this shit over with. You first!” You told Chan. “You don’t have to do this, y/n--” before he could finish his sentence, you were already jamming to the song at top speed. And Chan saw his life flashes before his eyes. So did the rest. None of them said anything, except to admire your dancing. There was Jeongin whose mouth was just an ‘O’ the whole time. You finished the dance off by pushing Chan slightly on the chest, “your turn.”

Seungmin

Seungmin and you haven’t even started dating more than a week ago, and he now, he has the awesome idea of getting to know each other better. So he had brought you here to the practice room. You met him in music class actually. The sound of his beautiful singing voice, was like an angel trying to reach out to you, and that was when you fell head over heels for him. You didn’t know he actually felt the same way until 3 weeks ago. And now you guys were together. It was so unrealistic. That you, a basic ass would be in the same room right now, breathing the same air as the Kim Seungmin. When he brought you to the studio, he started singing a few songs to you that he said was in “the process of making”. “Hey, want to see our new dance?” He stood up, putting away the music sheet. “Of course!” oops, you may have sounded a bit too excited. whatta loser. You could only stare in ooh and ahh as he was hitting those steps so freaking perfectly. “Want to try?” he suddenly asked out of the blue. “Oh no I’m--” but Seungmin had already pulled you up. And about 15 minutes later, you were dancing with him. “Woah...” he turned to you. “you never told me you could dance so well. I think you’re even better than me.” You chuckled. “Yeah, well... I’ve been dancing for quite a long time now.”

[cloudynames]

Point and Flex

hi everyone!! happy holidays!! i hope you’re all spending time with your family or friends~ i wanted to get this up before christmas but i was caught up with too much aha please accept this as a late christmas present <3

Word Count: 3,654

Rating: PG-13

Warning: one (1) swear word [shocking i know]

lets winwin!

----------------------------------

A white letter with gorgeous red lettering and a prestigious gold stamp changes your life.

Coming home that Thursday afternoon from school and holding your acceptance letter made you anticipate your graduation. Things were coming along so quickly you hadn’t even noticed how summer flew by and you were on your way to Seoul, dancing for The Korean National Ballet.

Sitting in your small dorm, you unpacked quickly and ran to the window, peering out at the city around you. Excitement filled up in your stomach, only to disintegrate when your calendar clearly marks that your evaluation day was tomorrow. Huffing and flopping on your bed, you started to realize how intense of a situation you’re in.

You’re overseas in a country you’ve never been to before! Barely being able to speak the language, the only thing you have is your dancing abilities. You would have to work as hard—no, even harder than the other students to qualify and dance for the theatre. The gravity of your situation slowly sets in while your anxieties rise and you groan.

“This sucks!” You yell into your room, directing it to no one.

The next morning you, suffering from jet lag, hurriedly burst into the studio, still arranging your hair and not even having properly stuffing your bag with everything you need for dance.

Multiple dancers turn their head to you, some scoffing and some smirking. Either they saw you as pathetic already or someone to mock. .

Placing down your backpack, you grab your pointe shoes and toe cap. Fear for your feet creeps into your body as you dig through your bag, checking every pocket.

“No, no, no… Where’s my toe spacer?!”

“Do you need one?” A voice quips and you whip your head to them. A boy with brown short hair and a slight accent stands above you, holding out a new toe spacer.

“Thank you so much! I really do appreciate it.” You grin and he sits down besides you.

As you prepare your feet, Ten questions you, “We don’t get many foreigners. Are you new?”

Nodding and standing up, testing your pointe shoes, you respond, “Yes. I’m a first year.”

“I’m Ten! I’m a second year. Last year, I was The Beast from Beauty and the Beast!”

You awe in amazement and respond back with your name. The two of you chat for a while until everyone is called into the huge, modern dance room. You nervously shift around until the wooden door opens with a man holding the door. Your shoulders tighten at the sudden sound and you keep your best posture, wanting to make a good impression on your new instructor.

A creaking sound gradually grows louder and louder. People seem to be startled and they whisper in a tongue you don’t understand. Turning to Ten for assistance, he keeps his eyes front to the mirror.

First, you see legs and then wheels. A man with dark muddy brown hair and sharp eyes arrives in the room, and he slowly moves himself over to the center of the room. Adjusting himself accordingly, he booms with a loud voice.

“Welcome.”

A wave of relief washes over the students but you wonder who this instructor is.

And not to be noisy, but what happened to his legs?

He looks incredibly intimidating and with a huge figure, it drives anxiety up to your throat. Aren’t wheelchairs supposed to make you look small?

“Let’s take thirty minutes to stretch. You may talk quietly among yourselves.”

With that, you immediately rush to Ten’s side and while in a lunging position, you ask, “Who is he?”

“Dong Sicheng. We call him Winwin.”

“Is he nice?” You whisper, falling into the splits and remembering to point your toes.

“Nah. He’s kind of a prick but he has the right to be. He’s a good instructor and he pushes you to your limit. He truly makes you a better ballet dancer.” Ten admits, going into a backbend.

“So what happened to him? I mean his legs of course.”

Ten sputters and collapses into the ground, clearly shocked by the audacity of your question. “How am I supposed to know?”

Soon your time to stretch was over and the terrifying instructor thought it would be best to go across the floor to evaluate where some people are at.

“Let’s do a pirouette, no—make it five pirouettes. I want a grand jeté and finally a glissade.”

A slow melody of piano music fills your ears and the taps of pointe shoes hitting the floor have your head spin in anxiety.

Soon enough it was your turn and you listen carefully for the counts to start.

“5, 6, 7, 8–“

Your body tenses and relaxes all at the same moment as you become one with the music. Coming all the way from your home is scary, especially since there’s a chance that you might not end up achieving your goals. Yet, you’re here for a reason. They accepted you and you were going to shock everyone.

At the end of your glissade, you turn to go to the end of the line. Suddenly, a loud voice barks up, “Point your toes on that jeté or I’ll make you do fifty more.”

Turning your head around from hearing the sudden English, you meet eyes with Winwin and you swear you could see the flash of a smirk. Feeling your face flush red, you hide your face by staring at the wall. Ten gives you a small pat on the back while you hear snickers fill the room.

You were the first one to be called out that day.

After class, you had to go to your mandatory core classes and you were completely swamped with work.

“I can’t believe I have to write an essay already!” You exclaim, falling back into your bed and pushing your laptop aside.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s college for you.” Ten mutters, slurping loudly as he finishes his ramen. “Can you buy me another one of these?”

“Hell no.” You respond, not even glancing at him until he shrieks.

“Oh my god! The ballet this semester was announced! We’re doing Cinderella!”

Pushing yourself off your bed and rushing over to Ten’s side, you steal his phone and scroll a bit until you see the English text.

‘We are proud to announce this semester’s ballet, Cinderella! With the success of Beauty and the Beast, we knew we had to perform another Disney ballet. More information will be coming soon. Thank you.’

Ten grabs his phone back and rolls his eyes about how rude you are.

“Ten, I have to audition! I mean, it’s Cinderella! My dream was to be her while I was growing up.” You sigh happily, flopping back into your bed.

Ten shoots you a grin, “Go for it. I’m cheering you on!”

If you weren’t determined before, you were definitely more determined now. You arrived an hour early to class and after your core classes, you would go back for another two hours to practice. It was tiring, especially trying to keep your grades up, but you loved every second of it. It was lonely at times but with the support of Ten and Taeyong (a third year and a new friend!), you felt like anything was possible.

“I’ve spent at least fifty dollars on ice this month. Most of my money goes to my ballet supplies!”

Ten nods, understanding your situation completely and Taeyong laughs.

“Are you auditioning for Cinderella? Auditions are in a month.” Taeyong asks as he points and flexes his toes.

Sighing loudly and fiddling with your ribbons, you reply, “I would love to. I don’t think I’m in condition to though.”

Taeyong pats your back as an attempt to comfort you but immediately removes his hand as Winwin announces class will begin. Taking a gulp, you mentally prepare yourself for hell.

A rough four hours later, class finally was coming to an end. You were huffing and panting loudly as Winwin finishes his notes for the class. Not paying attention and playing with your hair, the sound of your name scares you and perks your head to turn to your instructor.

“{Y/N}, I want to speak to you after class.”

You could practically feel the mockery drifting in the air from your peers. Nodding a quick ‘yes,’ you grab your bag and slip off your shoes in the locker room. Outside, Ten and Taeyong were waiting for you and offered small smiles of condolence.

“Sorry, but you’re dead.”

Taeyong punches Ten in the arm and pushes him aside.

“Don’t listen to him. I’m sure it’s nothing. Maybe it’s about you playing with your hair!”

Weakly smiling back and waving at them, you watch their figures slowly disappear and you mentally hype yourself up to face the one and only, Winwin.

The door creaks open just like how it did on your first day and you find Winwin on his phone.

“Pardon me…” You excuse yourself in Korean but cringe afterwords at your poor pronunciation.

“Don’t try speaking Korean. I can speak English just fine.”

You gulp and feel your body heat up instantly. A few minutes ago you were just dancing in this room and it has never felt this hot until right now. Quietly praying to whoever is out there, you ask that this session of reprimands will end soon.

Winwin finally looks up from his phone and stares at you. “I overheard you talking to your friends about the Cinderella audition. It’s true you want to audition, right?”

“Yes, it’s always been my dream.” You chose your words carefully. Obviously you were treading in deep water, you didn’t want to say something that might offend him.

“Listen, don’t take this personally, but I can help you with auditioning. However, that means more practices and I suppose you can call ‘brutal’ with my methods. Yet this is all up to you. I don’t make final decisions for anyone.”

A blank stare set upon your face and all your brain could think about is shock. Is he really offering this proposal to you? Just as equally important, why you?

You endure what seems like an eternity to you when you finally make a decision. All you hope now is that you won’t regret it.

“I would be grateful if you helped me.”

After that, weeks of grueling practice came. It felt like all you did was go to practice, school, private lessons, study, and maybe sleep while on the bus. The routine was brutal but you knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed. Yet being burnt out was bound to come.

Eventually that breakdown did come and it happened on a Friday night. Ten and Taeyong wanted to go out and get a few drinks since they haven’t seen you outside of practice. However,  you politely declined as you knew you had your private lessons. Failing an exam the day before also put a damper on your moods. You couldn’t risk ruining their night out.

“You need to extend your body more. I need to see good posture.” Winwin barked out orders, watching you intensely from his wheelchair. After you had failed to do what he wanted, he angrily scribbled down notes which would later translate into a workout punishment.

Everything came crashing down quite literally as your attitude spin caught you off guard and made you almost trip while coming out of it.

“What the—Hey, are you alright?”

You sat on the ground, bringing your knees up to your head almost in a cradle position. A loud sob shakes your body and streams of tears soon coat your face.

It was all too much—Winwin, your family questioning about your grades, the stress of being in a new country, the lack of friends. All you wanted to do was go back home where you knew everything would be safe.

The groans of the wheelchair snapped you out of your self-pity party and you stood up once again, brushing away stray tears and breathing harshly to calm yourself down.

“Hey,” a soft voice calls out, “lean down.”

You glance towards Winwin and he has an unreadable expression on his face. His arms are extended towards you and you nearly jump in them. At this point, you don’t care who is hugging you. You craved affection and if Winwin was offering you some, you were taking the opportunity.

Sobs filled the now quiet dance room and Winwin could feel the sadness flowing through your body. He felt every bit of loneliness and anxiety. Before this, he had never understood why you seemed so tired and scared. He understood it all the second you poured out your feelings. Hating his poor conversation skills, he wish he could reach out and offer words of encouragement yet nothing seems to come out.

On that lonely Friday night, he canceled your lesson and rubbed your back as you expressed everything you had been holding back. More importantly, you finally got some well deserved rest after that night.

Soon enough, Saturday came and you were already at the studio bright and early. Tying your ribbons of your shoes and hearing two voices, you raise your head and wave to Winwin as he walks in. He held a white bag on his lap and just as you were about to start your audition routine, he abruptly stopped you.

“Wait, I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.”

Nodding, you continue to stretch in silence.

“Have you eaten?” Winwin asks, taking a bite out of a banana.

Shaking your head no, you reply, “No. I usually don’t have time to eat breakfast in the morning.”

Suddenly, a banana is thrown at your head, barely missing you.

“What the hell Winwin?” You fume at him, grabbing the banana and threatening to throw it back at him.

He laughs, smiling joyfully. “Eat up. You need it.”

Your body goes hot and you give him a small smile. You wouldn’t mind if you heard that laugh again.

A new routine was formed from your old boring one. You would come into private lessons and Winwin would feed you. Slowly, your relationship changed. It wasn’t an instructor and a student anymore, but a genuine friendship. Soon enough you discovered that he is two years older than you, adding fuel to your growing affection towards him. The desire of you wanting to know him better grew and you wanted to become greedy with him.

You would achieve your desires as the two of you became closer friends. After doing a continuous amount of fouettes, Winwin called you over for a break.

Slumping down beside him and drinking out of your water bottle, a container of food gets shoved in your face.

“Winwinie, I can feed myself you know!” You whine, still opening the container and eating the gimbap.

“Oh, I know you can. I just never see it.” He teases.

The two of you banter for a while, joking around with each other and soon forgetting ballet.

“Winwinie, you know so much about me, but I wanna learn more about you.” You turn over to see his reaction and his mouth is slightly agaped, shocked by the sudden confession. The tips of his ears turn pink, steadily spreading to his cheeks as well. Deep down inside, you want to just kiss his cheeks.

“W-Well, I’m actually from China. I came to Korea to study ballet and I fell in love with it. I’ve been here ever since I was in high school. My parents gave up a lot for me to be here.” He confesses, playing with his fingers.

“Ahhh, I’ve always wanted to visit China.” You remark, trying to comfort him in the smallest way possible.

He gives you a sad smile, “Yes, I miss my home all the time. Sometimes, I wish I could just quit and be with my loved ones.”

You place a hand on his, rubbing the back of his hand. “I know it’s tough. We need to achieve our dreams though.”

He nods and bites his tongue, looking spiteful. “I can’t though. Not anymore.”

You take a peep at his wheelchair and your mind begs you to ask what happened. Manners are important and you stay quiet, continuous rubbing circles into his hand.

“I can never dance again. All because of a car accident.”

How does one comprehend such a statement? Your heart tries to reject how sad he feels, but it only makes it hurt more. Winwin trembles and you look up into his glossy eyes. Reaching a thumb up, you brush away a tear that had fallen.

He is the one pulling you into a hug now, so similar to that Friday night. He tells you all his worries and fears while you comfort him.

The relationship between Winwin and you changes drastically. Ten and Taeyong even notice it the second they walk into practice on Monday morning.

“Why does Winwin keep staring at you?” Ten whispers, almost shooting eye-dangers into him.

You push his shoulder, “Oh my god Ten, he’s just looking. It’s nothing.”

Taeyong chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Just nothing my ass.”

With a ‘hmph,’ you move to a new location to stretch until Taeyong and Ten came crawling back and apologizing five minutes later.

After class, Winwin had a lecture about how important this week was, especially for those auditioning for Cinderella. Every time he mentioned the ballet, you felt like puking. You’ve been training for so long, but you were terrified that there would be no pay off.

Winwin pushed you harder than ever that week and every ounce of his kindness had disappeared. Once was his soft eyes now became sharp, pointing out every flaw you had made. Your heart felt torn apart. Every time you tried to joke with him, he brushed you off stating that you needed to work. You even once tried hugging him after a lesson but he only responded by pushing you away seconds later. Had you really been imagining Winwin being so caring towards you?

With all the heartache you’ve experienced this week, you channeled that into your audition. You felt every single emotion you’ve felt while in Korea and let it influence your performance. Imagining all the love and sadness and anxiety, you gave it your all. Walking out of the audition room lifted so many worries off your back, but you still felt numb towards it all.

Nothing feels right because of Winwin.

Saturday came and you spent the entire day in bed, too confused and tired to do anything else. You were playing a game on your phone until you received a text from Ten. Growling and almost throwing your phone, you check what must’ve been so important.

[Ten]

The results are out for Cinderella! I’m the Jester hehe~ Tell me what you got too!

Your heart rate suddenly speeds up when you read the text and you rush to your computer. Logging into your school’s site, your eyes skip around to the cast list. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you read off the first name.

{Y/L/N} {Y/N} - Cinderella

You nearly faint. Jumping up from your seat and texting all your friends and family, you start wilding dancing in your room. Excitement couldn’t explain how happy you felt at that moment. Without thinking, you text Winwin.

[you]

r u at the studio?

[Winwinie]

yes, why?

[you]

wait there, ill be there in a few!!!

You grabbed the nearest and cleanest thing around you and slipped in on. Dashing out to the bus stop, you couldn’t hold in your excitement. You were practically bouncing the entire ride.

As soon as it was your stop, you ran to the studio and bursted into the room.

“Winwin! I got it! I got Cinderella!” You yell, approaching him and giving him a wide smile.

His eyes light up the second you state that and he pulls you into a hug, dragging you down a bit as well.

“I’m so proud of you.” He breathes, hugging tighter.

You pull away and smile fondly. “Thank you for all your training.”

He blushes, “I-It’s not that big of a deal. Besides, you achieved your dream!”

You smile and hold his hand. “How about I help you achieve yours?”

You’ve been developing a plan for quite some time to help Winwin achieve his dream. Confusion spreads on his face and he replies, “How? I can’t use my legs.”

“Who said we have to use legs in dance?”

With that, you turn on your phone to a melodic piano piece. Grabbing his hands, the two of you gently sway. You only let go to turn him in a spin.

Even though it was a small gesture, the look on Winwin’s face made it so memorable. He was grinning the entire time, laughing as you spun him and tried to dip him.

As the music slowed down, you spoke up. “Why did you push me away his week?”

He sighs and squeezes your hand. “I wanted you to do well. You’re so similar to me, it’s terrifying. I don’t want you to destroy yourself over failing to achieve your goal. I would never want that to happen to you.”

You’re silent at this. No words could explain how much you appreciated Winwin. However, actions could.

You bent down and kissed his cheek. Contrary to what has previously happened, his face didn’t heat up.

He gently grabs your chin and pulls you closely to his face. Chuckling, he leans in and kisses you. There weren’t any fireworks or any bubbly feeling in your chest. You just felt warm. It felt like home and all your worries washed away for good. He nibbles on your bottom lip teasingly and you push him away, giggling right after.

“You missed my lips the first time.”

“Maybe I won’t miss the second time.”

[sage-nebula]

Voltron thoughts beneath the cut (for spoilers, and also negativity).

I don’t know if I can really say everything I need to say coherently. I’ve barely slept, I haven’t eaten practically anything in nearly twenty-four hours, and part of that is because every time I try, I can’t get myself to do it, even when it’s soup. Between the medication I’ve been on and the anxiety that flared up due to this show despite the medication I’ve been on, I’ve been really sick all day today. So I’m going to try to be coherent, but I don’t know how much I’ll end up succeeding. Anyway, here we go.

TL;DR: I watched season six of Voltron: Legendary Defender. And I’m not going to watch any of the seasons to follow. I’m getting off this shuttle here, though I’m probably still going to continue writing my AU fics since they’re AUs and have nothing to do with canon anyway, therefore.

Longer version:

There are a few different reasons for this, all of which stem from this most recent season and how it made me feel. It’s kind of funny, in a way; I thought the thing that would make me want to quit would be how Keith was treated, given that he’s my fave, but he was actually treated really well this season (mostly, anyway, but I’ll get to that in a second). He got to get back in Black, he got a wolf companion, and he whooped untold amounts of ass as the Black Paladin. We also got to learn some more about his past (although we still don’t know his dad’s name, smfh), and we had it confirmed that he and Shiro are found family and that Shiro had a hand in guiding and raising him (both because Keith told Krolia as much, and because in the flashbacks young!Keith has a higher pitched voice while Shiro is in an instructor uniform, i.e., they met when Keith was so young his voice hadn’t broken yet; I’m guessing 11 or 12). All of these things were things that I personally really liked, even though that last one is one that I feel I can’t really enjoy thanks to how this fandom is. (Like, every time one of those scenes came up---like when Krolia thanked Shiro for “raising Keith to be the man he is today,” or we saw young!Keith and Shiro---my thoughts were, “Aww ♥♥♥,” immediately followed by, “god, this will cause so much Discourse™.” Kind of ruins it . . . a lot.)

And that’s what brings me to this decision. At least, partly.

I was not excited for this season. At all. Any time I heard something about Voltron, it made my anxiety spike and filled me with dread. I knew that part of this was because I had already known that season five was our one shot at positive interactions between Keith and Lotor, and that was shot. My guess was that what was going to happen was that Lotor would discover the Shireplica plot, attack him, and then Keith would attack Lotor because Lotor attacked “Shiro.” And honestly, that would have been better than what we got. But my point is, leading up to this season I felt nothing but dread. While watching it, there were some things I enjoyed (see above), and other things I . . . absolutely did not. And afterward? I can’t think about it without feeling my anxiety flare up despite the Lexapro. I’m not even a little bit happy. I’m not looking forward to season seven, because I don’t know how season seven could possibly be good after the sheer assassination Lotor’s character suffered at the hands of the writing staff. And it’s funny, honestly, because I was expecting Lotor to part ways with Team Voltron, and hell, I wanted him to because they literally sent him to his execution last season, but I wasn’t expecting them to assassinate his character the way they did. I thought it would be Keith’s treatment that made me leave, not Lotor’s. But here we are.

Okay. Coherency.

My point is, I’ve come to realize that this show . . . does not make me happy. At all. And it’s not even just that it makes me want to complain (although the writing this season surrounding Lotor, his generals, and tbqh the way they had Keith and Krolia ~away for two years~ just so they could get out of actually showing us how they’ve bonded was completely terrible), but that it actively stresses me out and upsets me. Like, I’ve been incredibly open about how much I relate to Keith (which is why his found family bond with Shiro is so important to me; it’s a really personal thing that made their relationship my favorite in the show before The Discourse™ sucked the enjoyment out of it), but I relate a lot to Lotor, too. The narrative they were setting up with him, and the character journey that he was on---the way that he was specifically rejecting his upbringing, adamantly refusing to follow in his parents’ footsteps, toeing the line between different cultures and sides of his heritage, living as an abuse survivor whose reactions weren’t always ~*~pretty~*~ but were real . . . all of that really, really spoke to me. And it was a deeply fascinating and interesting narrative, too. It was one that I wanted to see play out. As much as I rejected the “he’s been alive 10,000 years lmao” nonsense they tossed in there (because he doesn’t act like it at all; they don’t know how to write characters that have lived that long), the idea that Lotor has rejected ten thousand years of conditioning in order to do his own thing is one that is incredibly compelling. It’s one thing to be Good (or at least Not Evil) if you were raised to be Good or Not Evil. It’s another thing to choose to be those things despite years upon years upon centuries of abuse and conditioning designed to make you a Horrible and Evil person. I’m not saying that I wanted Lotor to be a Pure Hero, but rather that I saw the narrative setting up an anti-villain and I was interested in following that story. I related a lot to that story, due to my own personal experiences. I am definitely far more of a Keith in terms of personality (and trauma disorders), but I related a lot to Lotor’s story as well and was very interested in seeing that narrative play out.

And then . . . they threw it away in favor of making him a batshit crazy definite villain who went laughing mad and decided he was going to slaughter his own people and start his own empire just like Zarkon.

I’m sorry, but nothing can redeem this. It’s character assassination, straight up. The thing with the alteans is bad enough; you could sort of maybe explain it as Lotor sacrificing a few to save billions, but that’s doesn’t jive with the Lotor that let planets rule themselves, and that worked alongside the miners to harvest things from their planet. It doesn’t jive the way that he did it, anyway. But even that, like---even that is not as much of a straight up assassination of his character as the villainous breakdown rant he goes on near the end wherein he declares he’s going to slaughter everyone, including the galra (who . . . follow him?), and start a new altean empire, like . . . honestly, just . . . 

Coherency. Coherency.

I couldn’t enjoy the Sincline vs. Voltron fight (despite wanting to see Sincline form forever . . . and thinking that it looks 10,000 times better than Voltron) because of how Lotor’s character was mangled to make it happen. I just sat there staring blankly at the screen the entire time, feeling nothing but heavy disappointment and sadness. And that . . . is not how I should have felt during that sequence. I should have been excited. I should have been into it. And I mean, parts of it were nice; seeing Keith be the boss I always knew he could be as the Black Paladin was nice. It’s good that his character arc was finally re-railed. But the rest of it . . . what was done to Lotor . . .

My point is, this . . . isn’t enjoyable to me. Between how the fandom has been (i.e. the worst; if this show manages to run to completion without someone actually, literally trying to murder someone I’m going to be goddamn amazed), and the terrible writing, it’s just . . . underwhelming at best and severely upsetting at worst. And make no mistake, the writing is terrible. Lotor’s character assassination aside, as I said above, it’s very plain to me that the entire reason why Krolia and Keith were gone for two years was so that they wouldn’t actually have to show them building up a relationship. The generals were controlled by the plot wholesale. Ezor went from being the most devastated over Narti’s death (to the point where she stops seeing Lotor as her prince in the JP dub) to being glad to be back on Lotor’s side even though Narti is, you know, still dead. Zethrid has been reduced to “as long as I get to blow stuff up, I don’t care.” And Acxa went from wanting to protect Zethrid and Ezor, to . . . being loyal to Lotor? To wanting to ditch him again?? Who the fuck knows. It’s pretty clear that the girls are just plot devices at this point, and as someone who actually really cares about them, that’s upsetting to me. (Like, I’m just going to be honest here, most of the “OMG BADASS LADIES STEP ON MEEE” that I’ve seen in the fandom doesn’t seem to really care about the girls as people. I’m sure there are some people out there who do, but most people seem perfectly happy to have them being Haggar’s lapdogs because “omg badass ladieezzzz” rather than thinking about what’s good for them. But I really care about and like the generals as characters, so to see them reduced to plot devices who just follow whoever with no rhyme or reason is incredibly disappointing to me.)

But what I’m trying to say is, this isn’t enjoyable to me. I’m not having fun. And while at this point I’m not sure what narrative they’re actually trying to tell (the characters are literally just reacting to the plot now, rather than moving it forward; we have no idea what the hell their goal is and I’m sure we won’t find out until some villain does something new), I also know that it’s not one I’m particularly interested in seeing play out. I still love several of the characters (Keith primarily, but also Lotor (despite what they did to him), Kolivan, Acxa, Ezor, Zethrid, and Narti if she’s somehow miraculously still alive), but the overall plot of the show is not one I’m interested in anymore. I don’t think things are going to be handled with the nuance they deserve. I don’t think the writers have the ability to do that at this point. And knowing what this show could have been, versus what it is, makes it really difficult for me to want to keep watching.

So I’m not going to.

Because I don’t see a point in watching something that doesn’t make me happy. If I’m going to come out of every season feeling like this, I shouldn’t do it. To be fair, there are probably a lot of other factors that go into this, such as being on antidepressants / anti-anxiety meds for the first time ever (lot of good they’re doing!!), and other stressors, but . . . still, a show should make me happy. A show should alleviate the stress, not add to it. Even if the show isn’t ultimately what has reduced me to crying so much (and I’ve cried a lot), it’s still a contributing factor and it shouldn’t be that way.

So I’m stepping off. For me, VLD had a good run (mostly the back half of season two, and season three), but this is where I’m done. With the show, at least.

Because like I said, I still do really love the alternate realities I’ve created, and I’m probably going to keep writing those. They’re AUs, so they have nothing to do with canon as it is. My Keitor Zine fic is already done and has been submitted; and my Big Bang fic is an AU as well. So I’ll probably still write those, as I want to, because they’re not beholden to any of the nonsense that just went down in s6, or any of the nonsense that will follow. So if anyone is still interested in those, I’ll probably still write them.

But as for watching the actual show? No. I’m done. Seeing that done to Lotor, and the girls, and how bad the writing is overall . . . I’m sorry, but there are better shows out there. And I just can’t do this anymore.

So . . . that’s that. As coherent or incoherent as this was, that’s that. And I don’t even have a good way to end this so just . . . here’s this, ig.

(don’t reblog it, though. likes and replies are fine, but no reblogs, thanks.)

[kpopsinning]

Prodigy - Teacher AU

“Could you just close the door and come over here? You have no reason to rush out, I didn’t post your grade. I want to discuss it in person.”

You swallowed hard at his words but did as you were told, closing the classroom door and going over to his desk. He was looking through the stack of students’ sketchbooks on his desk, presumably for your own. He pulled one of of the stack and laid it in the middle of his desk, and you froze. 

You could feel all color draining from your face once you noticed which sketchbook he had pulled out of the pile. There was a Hello Kitty sticker stuck to the top right corner of it, indicating it was your sketchbook.

Your personal sketchbook.

word count: 10.1k

genre: fluff & smut (a lot of soft/domestic stuff, concludes w smut)

Prodigy. You hated the word.

Taking a Drawing II Honors course was a big leap for you coming from only taking an Intro To Drawing course the year previous, but your instructor constantly called you his ‘prodigy’ and insisted you take the chance. He’d always go around showing off your work to the other art teachers in the school and they all agreed with him that your work was beyond exceptional and you needed more of a challenge.

‘Are you sure this is her first drawing course?' 'Those lines are so clean!' 'Not even my advanced students sketch that neatly!’ ‘She’s a prodigy!’

Prodigy.

Wasn’t that word usually used for younger children than you? You couldn’t wrap your head around why they all threw the word around so casually.

When class registrations began for the following semester your instructor immediately put in a recommendation for you, and along with a few samples from your portfolio you made it into the advanced class.

You clutched your sketchbook closer to your chest as you entered the large main hall of the art exhibit your class was visiting. You felt so intimidated. It was only your fourth week of classes and you already felt like everyone around you had superior skills, your fellow classmates all huddling up in groups with their sketchpads and whispering over the assignment possibilities. The local art museum had just opened up an exhibit showcasing classic Greek and Roman sculptures, and everyone was already captivated by the large stone figures resting on the white marble floors surrounding them. You felt like an outsider, keeping your eyes low and toeing at the ground.

“Alright class, listen up. It’s assignment time.” You professor bellowed, stepping up onto a bench in the corner of the room. Voices began hushing one another as everyone scuttled toward the corner, eager to hear what would decide the first major grade of the semester. Professor Jeon beamed at the sight of so many keen students ready to get to work, and you couldn’t help but melt a little at his smile. His eyes always scrunched up in the cutest way when he gave a real, genuine smile, and he had slightly buck teeth that noticeably poked out, giving him an even more adorable, bunny-like appearance. One of his most prominent features however, that stood out from the rest of his youthful look, was his jawline. His jawline was truly that of a man’s and there was no denying that. It was sharp and angular, as if it had been cut from one of the pieces of marble the other sculptures in the room had been carved from. Aside from that he had the most innocent baby face you’d ever seen, making him seem so young sometimes you wondered how he was old enough to be a professor. If anyone were a prodigy here, it would have to be him. You assumed he went straight into teaching the moment he graduated, a rarity when it came to art instruction. An art professor his age was virtually unheard of, but he proved with his lessons each and every day that he had the skill set and no one could doubt it.

“So,” his deep voice shook you from your thoughts, clapping his hands together and rubbing his palms. “As you all know by now, this course has been designed to focus on compositional relationships as well as the human figure.” A few students nodded along with his words, but you were more entertained by the movement of his lips than anything.

“Just by taking one look at the pieces surrounding you, you can see how much emphasis both Greek and Roman cultures placed on the human form. My goal here is to get all of you to acquire the same eye for detail those sculptors had, and for you to take to your work as they would have approached their blank marble canvases. I would like you each to pick one statue to focus on, and then sketch it on full pages from three unique angles. I’m going to be looking for correct anatomical structures and proportions while I grade, so keep things consistent through each of the three.” As he explained the assignment several students jotted down notes in their sketchbooks, and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth.

The only body in this room you wanted to focus on was Professor Jeon’s.

Compared to his almost childlike facial features, his body was a stark contrast. It was clear he worked out; his shoulders were broad and his back muscles were so defined sometimes you could see them flex under his thin dress shirts. Once in awhile he’d wear tight short sleeved polos that clung to his biceps, and today was one of those days. With every movement of his arms as he spoke the muscles rippled and you were completely fascinated, wishing you could base your anatomical assignment on his features and his features only.

And his legs, you didn’t even want to begin to think about his legs. No matter what type of pants he wore, whether khakis, dress pants, or even sometimes jeans on casual Fridays, his thick thigh muscles always looked like they were straining to burst through the material. You found yourself fantasizing about what his bare legs must look like more often than you’d like to admit. It felt like a tease every time you glanced at his thighs, just knowing his well pronounced muscles were just a few layers of fabric away from your hungry eyes.

Professor Jeon clapped his hands again, and you felt your cheeks go pink as you were snapped from your thoughts.

“Make sure to put the sculpture’s title and the date at the top of each page. The museum has given you all permission to snap a few pictures in case you don’t have time to finish before the bus takes us home. I expect all three sketches to be completed before class Wednesday. Now get to work,” he grinned, hopping down from the bench once he concluded his little speech.

Your fellow classmates all immediately began scurrying around the room, each on the hunt for their own statue to claim and begin drawing. You were in no such rush, studying your classmates and the tizzy they were all in more than the sculptures around you. You wandered with slow, heavy footsteps, eyes flicking over a sculpture once in awhile just to give the illusion you cared about which one you picked.

A few minutes later you found yourself in the very corner of the exhibit, standing before a sculpture no one else seemed to be giving a second glance.

Contrary to most of the lighter toned marble statues in the vicinity, this one was a dark gray stone, looking older and like it was even beginning to crumble in some portions. The carved figure was hunched over, almost as if it was cowering in the corner out of fear. The chiseled jawline, flattened chest, and smaller nipples indicated to you the figure was male. One hand was splayed over his face, covering whatever forlorn expression you could only assume he was hiding. His muscles were well defined but he also looked tense, and the way his entire body caved into himself made his whole being appear defeated. As you continued to examine the details of the work, your eyes were drawn to the rough sores gouged into his back: two of them evenly spaced lateral to his spine, level with his shoulder blades. That’s when you noticed the pair of wings being clutched into the figure’s chest, one arm wrapping around them with such force it looked like his protruding stone veins were about to burst open. Your eyes drifted down to the small gold plate at the base of the statue.

‘Fallen’.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it?”

You almost dropped your sketchpad at the sudden voice, not even hearing Professor Jeon come up beside you. You quickly tried to calm yourself down and play off like you weren’t flustered by his presence.

“Y-yes um,” you cleared your throat, nodding a few times. “It’s really stunning. Different than everything else here.” Professor Jeon smiled, but his eyes never left the carved piece of stone before you two.

“It’s by one of my favorite sculptors. His story is, his wings were ripped from his body and he was cast down from the heavens for trying to help an unworthy human. Stuck in our earthly realm he was never able to blend in, a creature so beautiful he couldn’t find his place in the mortal world…” he trailed off, becoming lost in the beauty of the work he was admiring. You felt your cheeks heat up at the thought that popped into your head, dangerously close to letting it slip from between your lips.

‘You must know how it feels, Professor.’

Professor Jeon turned to face you and you quickly looked away, realizing you had been staring at him instead of the artwork.

In your eyes however, he was the more beautiful of the two fallen angels.

“So is this going to be your choice piece to sketch, Y/N?” he asked, his heartwarming smile causing butterflies to fill your stomach. You shook your head with a small shrug.

“While I do find this one really admirable, especially the way he’s carved so well you can literally see the tenseness in his entire body, I’m afraid choosing a figure so bent over wouldn’t give me as much of an opportunity to focus on frontal body features as I’d like,” your words were rushed and slightly mumbled, causing Professor Jeon to smile even more and the corners of his eyes to wrinkle.

“That’s very respectable of you Y/N,” he nodded. “I’m glad to see you’re challenging yourself already in this course.” He reached his hand out and rubbed your upper arm, giving it a light squeeze. “I’m glad Professor Roberts convinced you to take my class.”

When he turned to walk away and let go of your arm, and electric rush shot through your entire body sourcing from where he had just been just touching you. You could tell your face was beet red, looking down at your feet and letting your hair fall into your face in a weak attempt to hide the deep blush. You knew you needed to get yourself together and actually pick the piece you’d be drawing for your assignment, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move away from the fallen angel. You quickly glanced around to see if Professor Jeon was anywhere nearby before pulling out your phone and snapping a few shots of the statue from several different angles.

It might not have been the one you wanted to focus on for your assignment, but you would certainly find some personal time to play with the idea that had been forming in your head since you first laid eyes on the beautiful creature.

You felt drained in every sense of the word once you could finally retreat to your dorm for the night. There was so much traffic driving back from the museum that the bus returned two hours later than scheduled, leaving most of Professor Jeon’s students in a panicked tizzy fearing they wouldn’t be able to get a jump start on the assignment. With only two full days to complete it, most of them knew they’d need to dedicate several hours each day to their drawings in order to earn a sufficient grade.

You on the other hand were less worried about the graded assignment, but becoming growingly antsy about the pictures of the fallen angel you captured on your phone.

Despite your tiredness you ignored the way your bed was calling your name, making a beeline for your desk instead. You had no classes scheduled the next day and had no shame in staying up all night to just sleep in the next morning.

Taking a seat at the cramped, dorm-style desk, you reached into your backpack and pulled out your two sketchbooks: one for Professor Jeon’s class, and one for yourself. You set down the one you needed and flipped to a blank page, smoothing it out and letting your fingertips dance over the pencils you had neatly tucked away in a small metal jar on your desk. You chose a fine-tipped, lead, mechanical one— your favorite to use personally even if you couldn’t use it on official graded assignments. You reached into your back pocket to get your phone, unlocking it and opening to the images of the angel you had taken earlier that day.

Even after spending so much time admiring the work in person, you were still taken back by the sight of it. Your tiny phone display would never do it enough justice, which is exactly why you planned on immortalizing it with pencil and paper.

You of course, with your imagination that never failed to run wild, had a slightly twisted idea to go along with your vision. The moment you laid eyes on the statue, Professor Jeon was all you could think about.

“A creature so beautiful he couldn’t find his place in the mortal world.”

His words had been ringing through your head since he spoke them. In your eyes Professor Jeon held that kind of beauty, beauty so intense he didn’t seem real sometimes.

Hours had passed without you even noticing, so invested in your sketching you didn’t even remember you were tired in the first place.

Completing the body portion was easy, there wasn’t much you wanted to change. From what you could tell Professor Jeon would be considered more than in shape, and the muscle definition already in the statue was close to accurate of how you had always envisioned his naked body. As for his position, you followed the picture as a guide for the most part, except for his hands and arms. You left them both down and holding onto his wings in his chest, not wanting his face to be hidden in shame. You certainly were not going to miss out on drawing his wonderful facial features.

You spent maybe a little more time than necessary on the general outline of his face, letting visions of him from class every day just come and go through your mind in waves as you pictured him. The pencil seemed to glide across the paper more than naturally as you sharpened his jawline, proud of how it came out once you finally erased some small flaws and smoothed the edges.

Drawing out his nose, eyes, and lips was almost therapeutic. You focused on those features of his so often, that even drawing them for the first time they came out looking like the results of a sketch drill you had completed hundreds of times before. Once you finished his eyes, your pencil tip circled over the paper a few times. You briefly considered adding his glasses which you adored so much. They were big and round but the frames were thin and delicate, which complimented his ‘art professor’ aesthetic perfectly. You shook your head to yourself a bit, deciding against it. Angels didn’t wear glasses, did they?

You moved onto his hair, already having predetermined how you wanted it styled. Most days he came into the classroom with his dark locks neatly combed down, almost as if each hair has been individually adjusted and placed. Every once in awhile however when he clearly had run late, he came to school with his hair soft, fluffy, natural, and sticking out every which way. It was one of the few instances you’d get to see his forehead, something you didn’t think you’d find so appealing but then found more attractive the more you saw it (and in your drawing, his forehead would most definitely be showing).

Your pencil strokes were short yet smooth as you sketched his hair, not being super careful of where it flowed or how it fell. Hair was always one of the toughest parts of any portrait, but thankfully keeping it so natural made it easier.

Once you felt the image was as close to perfection as you could manage, you let your pencil drop from your hands and pushed the palms of your hands into your eye sockets. You didn’t realize how tired you were until you finally unfocused your eyes from the paper so close to your face.

You glanced at your alarm clock on your dresser; 3:45am.

“Fuck,” you grumbled to yourself, pushing away from your desk and ripping your clothes off one article at a time. Even though you didn’t have any classes tomorrow, you couldn’t let yourself sleep the whole day. Spending so many hours on a personal drawing of your professor wasn’t exactly the most productive task you could have accomplished with so many other assignments to work on. You turned off the lights, flopped into bed, and tangled yourself in your sheets, quickly falling into a deep sleep.

You dreamed an angel visited you that night.

That Friday you nervously chewed on a hangnail as you waited for class to finally end. It felt like you had been sitting for over an eternity just knowing that the second 4:30 hit, you could sprint back to your dorm and your grade for the statue sketch assignment would be posted online. You hadn’t even opened your personal sketchbook since you handed in your last assignment, too anxious over the grade to draw anything for pleasure.

Professor Jeon finished up whatever point he was making on shadowing, having felt the need to reteach the entire lesson since he was disappointed in several people’s work for their last assignment.

“Alright, I just hope now that next time you all have a better understanding of this. Keeping light sources in mind when you begin each piece should always be a priority, and I hope I don’t see the same mistakes next time,” he sighed. As he glanced at the clock at the back of the room, it clicked to 4:29. “You guys can get out of here. Don’t forget to look online for your grades! This one will weigh heavily, we can discuss redraws next week!” he called as several students were already making their way out of the studio classroom.

You slung your bag over your shoulder and headed for the door.

“Y/N?”

You stopped short as your name was called, dodging out of the way of someone else making a beeline to leave as you turned back around.

“Could you just close the door and come over here? You have no reason to rush out, I didn’t post your grade. I want to discuss it in person.”

You swallowed hard at his words but did as you were told, closing the classroom door and going over to his desk. He was looking through the stack of students’ sketchbooks on his desk, presumably for your own. He pulled one of of the stack and laid it in the middle of his desk, and you froze.

You could feel all color draining from your face once you noticed which sketchbook he had pulled out of the pile. There was a Hello Kitty sticker stuck to the top right corner of it, indicating it was your sketchbook.

Your personal sketchbook.

“Oh my god Professor Jeon let me-“

“Give me a second,” he cut you off, wetting the tip of his thumb with his tongue as he flicked through the pages. You were mortified as you saw flashes of all your private drawings flip by, burying your face in your hands. You couldn’t even bear to look.

He opened up to the page he was searching for, leaving it open on his desk and leaning back in his chair. He finally looked back up at you, corners of his lips tugging into a smirk when he realized how truly embarrassed you were.

“Don’t worry, I always only look at the last drawings when you guys hand stuff in. I didn’t look through this or see anything else,” he promised, his voice soft and reassuring. You slowly moved your hands away from your face, revealing you had gone from white as a ghost to red as a tomato. Professor Jeon had to bite back a grin, really wanting to be gentle with the whole situation.

“It’s beautiful Y/N, I’m uh… honored,” he chuckled, scratching at the back of his neck. You felt tempted to cover your face again, that or leave the room and never return. You could barely even maintain eye contact even as he praised your work. “I know you said you weren’t going to choose this piece for the assignment, but I’m glad to see you did. Even with the… little twist you put on it.” At this point hiding his wide smile was impossible, his bunny teeth showing as he looked back down at your drawing.

“Professor Jeon I didn’t mean to hand that in, that’s my… that’s my private sketchbook. I must have given it to you by accident,” you admitted sheepishly, looking down at your feet. Professor Jeon furrowed his brows.

“You put this much effort into a personal drawing?” He sounded surprised. Was it really that strange? You put 110% into everything you drew, even if it was just for pleasure. “I didn’t get work this good out of half the class,” he chuckled. That made you look at him finally, and now it was your turn to look at him with a puzzled expression.

“Are you serious? This is an honors course…” you scrunched up your nose a bit, displeased at the idea that students weren’t taking Professor Jeon’s class seriously. You shook the thought out of your head. “Anyways, Professor, I have my class sketchbook right here,” you reached to your back for your backpack and started to unzip it. “I know it’s technically late now but this is all my fault and...“ you stopped when you realized he was shaking his head.

“Y/N, this sketch is marvelous. I’d be an idiot not to give you a grade for it. It’s more than deserving.”

You blushed a his compliment, still not used to people showing appreciation for your work even after all these years of drawing.

“However…” he continued. “You know… the assignment was supposed to be three sketches of one statue… I do have to be fair, so as of right now I can only give you partial credit for this.” he sighed. Your heart sank. You could do two more sketches at other angles if he wished, but with the school’s tight grading policy you’d still get points off for lateness.

“Or…”

You perked up at the word, slight hope starting to reform.

“You could come over to my apartment tomorrow to do a redo of the entire assignment.”

You knew your eyes visibly widened at that, but you couldn’t help it. Did… did Professor Jeon just invite you over to his place? Before you could even answer he was speaking again.

“Don’t get me wrong, I already told you this is absolutely gorgeous,” he insisted, motioning his hand towards the sketch. “I’m very familiar with that sculpture and you captured it perfectly, but if it’s going to be me…” he trailed off and chuckled to himself, smirk playing on his lips. “Well, then you didn’t completely nail my physique,” he shrugged. Your mouth fell open slightly to match the surprise already visible in your eyes, cheeks going pink again. He finally looked away from the drawing and up at you, and the cockiness plastered on his face was enough to send a wave of arousal through your core. He grabbed a post-it note off his desk, scribbling some information on it before sticking it inside your sketchbook. He flipped it closed and handed it back to you.

“Come by around 5, okay?”

Your heart felt like it was beating so fast it was vibrating as you walking down the wide hall of Professor Jeon’s apartment complex. You looked back down at the small sticky note in your hand and checked the number on it for the millionth time, finally walking up to the door with the matching number nailed to it. You crumpled up the note and stuffed it into your pocket, holding your sketchbook to your chest as you reached one hand out to lightly knock on the big wooden door. Within a minute it was swung open, and the sight you were greeted with was enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

Professor Jeon wore an oversized, thickly knit, olive green sweater, and dark jeans. His hair was natural and looked messy as if he had just woken up. He readjusted his big round glasses slightly as he opened the door, bunny smile shining even though he already expected it was going to be you. As he stepped aside to let you in he pushed a few stray locks of hair away from his forehead.

“Right on time Y/N, come on in.”

You stepped inside and quietly thanked him, quickly surveying your surroundings. The apartment was actually slightly bigger than you expected, studio style but still very spacious for the complex. The bedroom area in the back corner was indicated by a large queen size bed, but where you assumed was supposed to be a living area he had an art studio setup.

“Wow…” you breathed. “I wish I had my own art space like that.”

Professor Jeon smiled, walking across the room and towards the kitchen area.

“A lot of my friends think it makes the place seem over crowded, but I prefer to work here than at a public studio,” he shrugged, and you nodded along to his words. “Take your shoes off, make yourself comfortable. I have some ramen on the stove if you’re hungry.” You had thought you smelled food cooking when you entered and now your suspicions were confirmed. You tried not to grin too much at how cute you thought it that he had cooked in anticipation of your visit. You kicked your shoes off near where his were by the door and walked over to him.

“You cook, Professor?” you questioned, setting your sketchpad down on the small two-person table. He scrunched up his nose a bit as he stirred the noodles in the pot.

“Call me Jungkook please, I don’t like it when people call me Professor in my own apartment,” he chuckled, and the sound was like music to your ears. You took a seat at the table and watched him carefully, eyes wandering over his shoulders and back. The sweater he was wearing complimented him so well, but in all honesty you would have preferred to see him in something a bit more… fitted.

You two made small talk as he finished cooking, eventually placing two bowls of noodles on the table before you once he was done. You ate in silence for the most part, save for him continuing to ask you some questions about your skills or life. You asked him a few questions as well; the conversation flowed smoothly and never felt awkward despite  occasional bouts of silence. Things felt weirdly right, and if the events that had lead you to this moment never occurred, you might have forgotten that he was your Professor.

Jungkook wiped his mouth with a napkin and studied you for a moment.

“This isn’t too weird, is it?” he asked quietly. He suddenly seemed nervous, which was out of character for the Jungkook you had seen every day at the front of the classroom. You furrowed your eyebrows slightly, shaking your head.

“I don’t think it is as long as you don’t think it is,” you replied honestly, causing him to smile. You couldn’t help but smile back, finding his brief moment of insecurity very cute. He sighed a little bit, visibly relieved.

“I know we’re both adults here, but this was still a pretty risky move for me to make,” he explained, biting down on his bottom lip. He stood up and took both your empty bowls to the sink, running the water for a moment. He rolled up his sleeves and your eyes were immediately drawn to the newly exposed skin of his forearms.

“The school has strict policies on this sort of thing, as you probably know,” he mumbled, his voice indicating to you he was becoming uncomfortable again. “But I never took you as the type of person who wouldn't approach this... carefully, so I figured it was worth the shot,” he turned to glance at you over his shoulder as he washed the dishes, giving you a quick wink. You giggled shyly and looked down at your lap, shaking your head a bit. You still couldn’t believe this was all real and happening.

Once he was finished cleaning the dishes he set them aside to dry, turning back around towards you and leaning against the counter.

“So… ready for this private drawing lesson?” he smirked a bit, pulling off his glasses and setting them aside on the counter. You raised an eyebrow, standing to follow him as he walked towards the art set up in the corner of the apartment.

“Oh, so this is a lesson now?” you questioned teasingly. “I thought I was just here for a redraw.” Jungkook turned back to look at you, now raising his own eyebrows.

“Seriously Y/N? Of course this is a lesson,” he motioned towards the stool set up near his easel as he spoke, showing you where to sit and prop your sketchpad. He went over by his bed directly across from you, suddenly pulling his sweater over his head in one swift motion and tossing it aside.

“Have you ever sketched a nude model?”

You were taken back, mouth hanging open slightly. You could feel words getting caught in your throat, too surprised to actually speak. Jungkook appeared to be enjoying your reaction, starting to undo his belt. He kept eye contact with you, a growing lust swirling through his eyes.

Seeing his body for the first time was more overwhelming than you expected it would be. His entire torso and abdomen was just as tanned and smooth as his face and arms which you got to admire regularly, and each and every muscle was so toned you could tell he must have had specific workout routines for each muscle group. He actually looked like one of the marble statues you had compared him to just days before— his pecs were well shaped, his abs defined, his v-line cut razor sharp and dangerously close to where your eyes now focused: the hem of his exposed Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

“Hey,” his voice snapped you out of your trance and your eyes jumped back up to his face. He wasn’t even bothering to hide his cocky smirk at this point. “Eyes up here for now, I asked you a question,” he teased, and you could feel heat rise to your cheeks.

“No,” you finally choked out, practically drooling as you watched him pull his belt off in a painfully slow manner. “W-we uh… never used human models in my Intro class,” you cleared your throat, becoming aware of how hard you were clenching your pencil in your hand when it started to cramp up. He grinned as he undid his jeans and began shimmying out of them.

“Good, I’m glad I could be the first to give you this lesson.” There was something about his words that were making you feel dizzy, head spinning with the sudden wave of desire that overcame you as you watched Jungkook take his jeans off. He sat down on the edge of his bed, noticing your eyes wouldn’t leave his crotch.

“I’m also glad to see you’re eager to get to draw some new anatomy,” he teased, and you cursed to yourself as you pulled your eyes away from his bulge. He rolled his eyes a bit, completely amused at the effect he had on you and he wasn’t even completely naked yet.

“S-so uh,” you finally spoke up, hoping you didn’t sound as nervous as you thought you did. “How are we doing this?”

Jungkook hummed and laid back in his bed, propping himself up on his elbows. He grazed his hand over his crotch absentmindedly, and you had to bite your lip at the sounds that threatened to escape your throat.

“I’ll choose my own positions-- I’ll do three,” he explained simply, and you couldn’t believe how nonchalant he was being when he knew exactly what he was putting you through. “Let me know when you’re done with one and I’ll adjust my position, and when you’re done with all three we’ll review the sketches together. Sound good?” he raised an eyebrow, and you nodded maybe a little too quickly in response. “Wonderful,” he grinned. With your final confirmation you were ready to go, he sat up and slid his boxers down his legs. After tossing them to the side he laid back again propping himself up on his elbows, making direct eye contact with you with the most smug look on his face you’d ever seen.

There was no hope in stopping your wandering eyes at that point. He moved so he was sitting against the headboard, and left one leg flat out but bent the other up to rest one of his arms on. As he adjusted himself into what he felt would be a good position for you to draw he let his half hard cock lay over his stomach, almost as if it was on display for your viewing pleasure. His cock seemed almost too perfect in length and girth, and you immediately felt the urge to just go over there and worship it with your watering mouth.

“You’ll have plenty of time to focus on that later Y/N, why don’t you start drawing the rest of my body?” his tone of voice mimicked every ounce of smugness on the rest of his face. You knew you were blushing but you tore your eyes away from his statuesque body and looked to the blank page of your sketch pad before you. It frustrated you to no end that he knew exactly the effect he had on you, and his confident approach to the whole situation just turned you on even more. You squeezed your thighs together as your arousal began to become more and more obvious. You gripped your pencil maybe a bit too tightly and circled it over the blank page a few times, not even knowing where to begin— and that was unlike you. Going into any assignment or drawing, you usually had the amount of self-assuredness Jungkook was currently displaying, and it threw you off how the tables had turned.

“Any day now.”

You could tell he was stifling a snicker, and you shot him a small scowl.

“Give me a second to plan it out,” you snapped back, and he raised an eyebrow at your feigned anger. He held his hands up in defense momentarily, shutting up and letting you do your work.

The moment your pencil tip finally made contact with the paper, any nervousness you were previously feeling completely dissipated. You eyes occasionally jumped back and forth between Jungkook and the sketch, and he was a bit surprised by how focused you had suddenly become once you began drawing. But that’s how you were when you got in your zone— nothing else mattered besides your pencil, paper, and the final product you had in mind. Jungkook found your intense concentration attractive, completely stunned by the difference in your demeanor in just a few seconds; from completely flustered and swooning over his naked body to sketching away as if he wasn’t even there. His cock twitched, and he hoped you didn’t notice.

You did.

It took less than half an hour before you were erasing unnecessary lines and smoothing out a few edges. You laid your pencil on the easel, sitting back a bit to review your work. You looked at the picture, looked at Jungkook, then back at your picture.

“Done with the first?” he grinned like a fool, completely enamored by everything about you and the way you worked. He felt honored to get to watch you in action. You shushed him, trying to make sure every detail of your sketched was true to life of the model before you.

“Yeah… I think so,” your words were drawn out slightly as you still nit picked your picture.

“Thank god, my leg was starting to cramp,” he grunted a bit, flopping onto his back and stretching his entire body out. He let out a deep sigh as he relaxed into the bed, and your intense concentration was broken by the sound, a small amused smile playing on your lips as you watched him.

When Jungkook had first undressed himself less than an hour ago, you had been looking at him with nothing but hunger and lust in your eyes. But as those feelings slowly started to regulate themselves as you focused on your piece, now you were looking at him with nothing but pure fondness.

“This next one’s only gonna be a little different, then for your last one I’ll make it more of a challenge,” he explained, grabbing the few pillows on his bed and pushing them to the side.

This time he laid his back completely flat on the bed, but still left one leg bent up more than the other. He ran his fingers through his dark locks a few times before finally settling them there, tangling them in a bit for good measure. He let his other hand rest behind his neck, finally looking over at you when he was done, giving his body a slight twist in your direction. The look he was giving you was enough to make your heart skip a beat. He looked so beyond gorgeous in that moment that the words ‘god-like’ floated through your mind, and you were thankful you were being given the opportunity to immortalize his beauty forever with your own drawing skills.

Having gotten past the initial shock you felt earlier when you first began, getting started with this sketch was much easier. You calmly lifted your sketchbook to flip to a new page, getting right to work. Once again Jungkook stayed completely quiet as you worked, simply enjoying getting to watch you invest yourself in your art. Letting his mind wander in the silence, he wondered if maybe this could become a regular thing, or if maybe next time the roles could be reversed. As he fantasized about the idea of your naked body sprawled out over his bed, all for him to appreciate and draw himself, his mind eventually went to much more sinful places.

“So is your dick getting more hard with each picture I draw just going to become a thing?” you murmured, voice a bit quiet since you were still focused on your drawing. Jungkook laughed at that, biting his lip in an attempt to keep from moving and messing up your work. He got a kick out of the brief moment of audaciousness in your offhanded comment, and if he weren’t in a situation where he needed to stay so still he would dare you to keep that attitude up and see what happens as a result.

“Less talking more drawing, yeah?” he hummed in response, noticing the slight smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

A few moments later you were finishing up the second sketch, once again giving yourself a moment to compare it with the real deal very closely before announcing you were done.

“Okay, let’s get this last one over with,” you sighed, dropping your pencil on the easel tray and stretching your arms and legs. “This stool is starting to make my butt hurt.” Jungkook chuckled and rolled his eyes a little, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He sat with his feet on the floor, legs spread slightly wider than his hips, elbows resting on his knees, fingers clasped together, and back hunched over just slightly. He tilted his head a bit as he looked at you expectantly with the amused look on his face you were growing more and more used to.

“This is it,” he announced. You groaned a little bit. This was definitely going to be the most difficult, so of course he’d saved it for last. “I better not see a drop in the quality of your work with this last one,” he teased, grinning to himself. You huffed as you turned to the next page in your sketchpad.

“Well then you better wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, because I’m not drawing it,” you retorted, only half serious. You absolutely adored his smile and would draw it a million times over if you had to, but getting it right would just take up too much time for right now. He shook his head a bit before composing himself, looking at you with a much more serious expression. He was really enjoying getting to watch you grow more and more comfortable with him, and the whole situation in general, and he couldn’t wait for you to finish so he could get you worked up all over again.

This sketch did in fact take you longer than the first two, taking almost as long as both combined. You were completely dedicated to each and every piece you drew, and this was going to be no different. You could tell Jungkook was growing more and more impatient, noticing the way he began playing with his fingers or chewing on his lip occasionally. He tried to be behaved and stopped whenever he caught himself fidgeting, but it really was getting difficult for him to sit still. His thoughts were running completely wild at that point, evident to you by the way his cock stood straight up towards his stomach. You probably could have spent another half an hour just perfecting this last sketch, but Jungkook was clearly suffering so you decided to put him out of his misery.

“Alright, that’s probably as good as this one’s gonna get,” you sighed, scratching your head with your pencil as you looked over the finished piece.

“Finally,” Jungkook groaned loud and throatily, startling you a bit with the noise. He immediately stood and stretched every muscle in his whole body, continuing to grunt and groan as he did so. You chuckled as you watching him loosen up, flipping through the three sketches you had done and reviewing them all.

“Let me see, I can’t wait any longer,” within a few long strides he was right by your side, and the new proximity shook you out of the trance of concentration that overcame you while drawing. It was as if he had no shame standing right beside you still stark naked, erection sticking straight out between you and your sketchpad still leaning on the easel.

“So do you want to actually start to analyze them now? Or is something distracting you?” He had to bite his tongue between his teeth, but nothing would suppress his cocky grin at that point. You blushed and looked away once you realized you had been staring, but obviously that was what he was going for. He was practically shoving it in your face at that point.

“What’s the matter? No sassy comebacks this time?” he nudged on, amusing himself by flustering you. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, keeping your eyes low to the ground. Drawing was the only thing you were ever able to feel confident about, and now that you were done for the time being all the confidence you had just moments ago completely washed down the drain. A warm hand scooped under your chin, forcing you to look up at him and make eye contact.

“We could review them later… I might have a better idea,” he drawled his words out as he pulled you up and guided you to stand in front of him, bringing you in close so your lips were ghosting just above each others’. Your eyes fell shut as he finally pressed his lips against your own, and you both audibly sighed in relief as the thick sexual tension in the room started to dissipate.

“Fuck,” he groaned quietly into the kiss, reaching his hands behind you to squeeze your ass and draw your bodies impossibly closer. “I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment you stepped foot in my room the first day of classes.” His breath felt warm as it washed over your face when he spoke and he rested his forehead against your own, just taking a moment to look into your eyes.

“I could say the exact same thing,” you admitted reluctantly, cheeks going a rosy shade of pink. He just smiled, that perfect bunny smile shining through that you could never stop thinking about.

That attraction between you two was very clearly being felt on multiple levels, and you so desperately wanted to make him feel good. You had been fantasizing about him for longer than you could ever admit, and felt that he deserved all the pleasure in the world.

He leaned down to capture your lips in another kiss, this one more feverish and open mouthed. He kneaded your ass with his muscular hands and pushed your hips into his crotch, groaning at the friction. A hand reached up under the hem of your shirt, massaging one of your breasts and earning a moan from you. The passionate kiss grew more and more heated, and he broke it after a minute to pull your shirt over your head. His hand reached back to undo the clasp of your bra nimbly, and once you let it fall to the ground his pupils seemed to blow out just by the sight of your naked chest. You suddenly felt exposed, but made no effort to cover yourself up.

“I’m never going to forget this sight,” he mused, causing your flushed cheeks to redden. “I hope next time it’s my turn to draw you,” he added with a wink, causing you to look down and giggle. He cupped your jaw with his hand, running his thumb in circles over the smooth skin as he looked deeply into your eyes. He kissed you once, twice, three more times, still unable to believe this was actually happening. Little did you know, he felt the same way towards you as you did him. Just getting to finally take in all of your beauty in that moment, from your delicate facial features to every curve of your soon to be completely naked body… you looked like a goddess to him.

He used one leg stuck in between your own to guide you to the bed, following you down when you fell back onto it so he could kiss you some more. As your bare chests pressed together you could feel the heat radiating from his body. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of kissing your lips. He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear, tugging them down as you shimmied out of them. Once your last article of clothing was removed, he sat back on his heels to look over you.

Jungkook wanted this moment to last forever: you splayed out over his messy sheets, hair framing your face and falling onto the pillows in luscious waves, your chest falling and rising as your breathing picked up from being analyzed so closely… your arms flew over your face to hide the blush threatening to creep back up.

“No no no, please,” he insisted, moving your arms to pin them above your head. You knew your cheeks were bright red and you bit your lip nervously. Once your arms were out of the way he sat back again, moving away even more to hold his hands up and make a frame with his fingers. He closed one eye as he focused on you, framing the shot he wanted to remember forever perfectly.

“You belong in a museum,” he murmured, still unable to take his eyes off of you. You giggled and sat up, batting his hands down and pulling him in for another kiss.

“Stop ogling and please let me do something for you,” you mumbled against his lips, loving the way you could feel him chuckle into your slightly open mouth. You tried to pull him down and flip positions so you’d be on top, but he overpowered you and wouldn’t have any of that.

“You’re kidding, right?” he practically snorted, and you gaped at him.

“Jungkook I have literally wanted to-”

He cut you off with a kiss, knowing it would be the easiest way to shut you up.

“You just spent over two straight hours drawing. Do you really think I’m going to let you make this about anything other than you feeling good?” There was a slight teasing to his tone but you could tell he was being 100% serious. You rolled your eyes a little, reaching down to wrap your slender fingers around his thick cock. He hissed a bit at the unexpected contact, biting down on your bottom lip.

“You’re gonna stop me from doing… this?” You pouted and drew your words out, slowly pumping his cock as you spoke. He groaned a little but quickly came to his senses, snatching your wrist away from his cock, grabbing your other hand as well, and pressing your arms over your head.

“If this is how you wanna do this,” he raised an eyebrow, pulling back to look over your face. “I can play like that too.” Shivers ran through your entire body from the way he spoke, voice lowering slightly.

“Hands stay above your head. You don’t move, or touch yourself. Clear?” he instructed, scooting back to settle in between your thighs. He grabbed your thighs to throw your knees over his shoulders, finally coming face to face with your beautiful, already dripping entrance. He couldn’t help but sigh as he took in its beauty. His breath felt cool as it blew over your folds, causing you to squirm. If he weren’t already in between your legs you’d have to squeeze your thighs together form how turned on your were becoming by his more dominant words, a side of him you didn’t expect to see but was loving more and more by the minute. If not for the circumstances he probably would have also told you not to make a sound, but right now he wanted nothing more than to hear you moan his name.

He brought a finger up to circle your entrance, and you had to claw at the pillow under your head to not get too needy too quickly. He gently wrapped his lips around your clit, dipping a finger inside you. He kept eye contact, desperate to watch you fall apart beneath him.

You leaned your head back and moaned quietly, thrusting your hips up into his face. He was going too slow, and you needed more. You were way too pent up from the weeks you had been spending dreaming about this happening. The hand not teasing your slit reached up to pin down your hip, fingertips digging into the skin.

“What did I say, baby?” he hummed, looking up at you and licking his lips. Just watching him alone could probably get you off faster than any porn you’d ever watched, and your eyes fell shut again as his mouth returned to pleasuring you.

He slid his finger in deeper, curling it up into your g-spot.

“Fuck right there Jungkook,” you moaned loudly, able to feel him smiling into you. Actually hearing you moan his name sounded even better than he could have ever imagined it would. He licked long stripes around his finger a few times before adding a second, going back to sucking on your clit as he pumped the digits in and out slowly. The moans falling from your lips became more frequent, and he knew he was getting you closer by the way your walls started clenching around him. He sped up the pace of both his fingers and tongue, looking up to watch your back arch, head fly back, and knuckles turn white from gripping the pillow so hard. It took every ounce of restraint in you to not just reach down and tug on his beautiful chocolate hair.

“J-Jungkook yes I-I’m so-”

He noticed your stomach muscles tighten, immediately pulling back and depriving you of all contact. He grinned, amused by how loud you gasped when all pleasure subsided.

“Jeon Jungkook I was so close what kind of games are you-!”

He leaned up and smashed his lips against your own, thinking in the back of his head that this was certainly going to be his new favorite way to shut you up when you were being bratty. He kept your legs over his shoulders, running his hands up and down your thighs as he passionately kissed you.

“I want you to come all over my cock,” he hummed against your lips, smirking slightly. As much as you were disappointed he ruined your climax so close to the edge, how could you be mad with his lips moving so beautifully in sync with your own? He tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth to elicit a small moan, taking the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. You let him do as he pleased, tangling your tongues together as the kiss became more sloppy.

You could feel his thick, hot cock pressing into you just next to where you needed friction the most, and you thrust your hips into him hoping he’d get the idea. He chuckled into your mouth, noticing your eagerness.

“Please Jungkook,” you whined, giving up on trying to not sound needy. You were needy, and needed his cock inside of you immediately.

“Alright princess, anything for you.” He looked down in between your sweaty bodies and grabbed his cock, pumping himself a few times before teasing your entrance with his tip. You moaned and threaded your fingers into his hair, tugging lightly.

“Jungkooook,” you begged, bucking your hips up into him. He shushed you, pressing his lips into your own. He teased your slit for just another moment before slowly sliding inside of you, eating up every moan that escaped your lips.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” he groaned, stilling his movements once his hips were flush with your thighs. You had to move your hands from his hair to his shoulders, digging your nails into his soft skin.

“Holy… holy shit I’ve never felt this… this full,” you could barely get the words out, dizzied by just how good it felt to finally have his cock inside of you. He pulled out torturously slow, and only half way before pushing back inside all the way. You cupped the back of his neck with your hands to bring him closer, peppering his chiseled jawline with wet, open mouthed kisses. He kept the slow pace for a while, loving how tight you felt with the help of the angle he held your legs at. He just wanted to enjoy it all before he really got into it-- your bodies moving against each other and exchanging heat, the sounds you made with each shallow thrust, the feeling of your warm lips on his neck and jaw.

He suddenly pulled out further, almost all the way, before rocking back into you with such force the entire bed shifted. You cried out in pleasure, biting down on his neck and earning a moan. He moved to kiss you deeply again before leaning back. He held both of your hands above your head, lacing your fingers together with his own. The action was small but you noticed how intimate it really was, your eyes locking with one another. You both were still and quiet for a moment, taking everything in.

“Ready?” He broke the silence, pecking your lips one last time. You licked your lips, thrusting your hips a bit to meet his own.

“Jungkook I’ve been ready since I walked into this apartment,” you teased, making him give you a small eye roll but still smiling at you fondly nonetheless. He didn’t need to say anything else, he just leaned back and got to work.

He pulled his hips back and slammed into you so suddenly and so hard you practically choked on a moan, not entirely expecting the action. He repeated it over and over again, relentlessly pounding into you. The angle from being almost folded in half under him made him hit your g-spot just right every time, and you had to throw your head back as you cried out his name in pleasure.

“Fuck you’re so amazing Y/N, you take my cock so well,” he grunted, not letting up with his thrusts for a second. His speed and precision behind each thrust made your head spin, and after full minutes of the pace which felt like hours you wondered how he had the endurance to go so long.

You felt a familiar heat building in your stomach, and you moaned loudly as you clenched your walls around him.

“Jungkook I’m… please I’m so close,” your words barely made it out, so breathless from moaning his name. Your legs started to shake and feel like jelly, and you knew your climax would hit you hard.

“Please baby, please come all over my cock,” he groaned, shifting his hips slightly to adjust his angle. You almost screamed when he did so, not thinking it was possible to feel any better than it had before.

“Yes! Yes fuck Jungkook right there!” You cried out his name with a waterfall of moans as you finally came, back arching up off the bed as your release exploded through your entire body. He kept up his pace through your orgasm, only slowing down once your walls stopped clenching around him. He pulled out suddenly, jerking himself off as he was dangerously close to his own climax as well.

“Y/N where can I-”

Before he could even ask, you up were pushing him back, kneeling down to wrap your lips around the head of his cock. You had been wanting to taste him for weeks now, and he felt just as nice in your mouth as he did buried inside you. The sound he made when you did so was enough to send a rush of wetness down to your core, even with all the juices already leaking down your thighs from coming so hard. You took in as much of his length as you could handle, immediately feeling the hot spurts shoot into your mouth and down the back of your throat. You sucked him completely dry, swallowing every last drop and licking him clean once you were done.

You sat back on your legs, chest heaving quickly as you still tried to catch your breath. You could feel your legs still shaking, not having come that hard in your entire life.

Jungkook was still leaning back, a bit in shock you had been so eager to let him finish in your mouth. If he thought you looked perfect before, he realized just how wrong he really was. Seeing you look so completely fucked out, still trying to catch your breath, face flushed, hair damp with sweat… He couldn’t resist sitting up, cupping your face with both hands and pulling you in for a kiss.

“What on earth did I do to just deserve that,” he breathed, astonished the whole situation was even real. You smiled, needing to kiss him again. You didn’t think after this you’d ever stop craving the taste of his lips.

Jungkook pulled away only to lay back on the bed, pulling you down with him and tucking you into his broad chest. You realized how easily you felt at home with his warm body surrounding you, never wanting to leave. You breathed in his scent deeply, wondering if it was the great sex or his intoxicating aroma that was making you feel so dizzy.

“You really are a creature too beautiful for our mortal world,” you mumbled into his chest, pressing a few delicate kisses onto the skin. You could feel his chest reverberate deeply with a chuckle.

“An angel is nothing compared to a goddess.”

[chalantness]

Let It Snow - day fourteen

(for my “season of shipping” giveaway)

Rating: PG-13 Word Count: ~1,700 Characters: Steve/Natasha Prompt: “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” + Steve is a soldier coming home to a worried and waiting Nat

For: @emily-is-fangirling

A/N: I watched too many soldiers-coming-home videos on YouTube for this prompt so curse you for making me cry so hard but also thank you.

Read on: [ ao3 ]

She knows he’s coming home, of course. She just doesn’t know he’s coming home today.

She’s going to hate it, too. She always says she hates it when he makes her all emotional and choked up, but, shit. How could he not surprise her?

He’s been away for a year and a half now and it’s tough. He’s not going to lie. He knows he’d never go back and make another choice, because serving his country is what he’s always wanted to do. Not even when his mom cried and said that she didn’t want to lose her baby boy the same way she lost her husband did Steve change his mind. He thought about it a little harder, but his choice had been the same. It sucked, and he knows she’ll never, ever hold it against him, but he broke her heart a little bit when he left. She tells him that she’s proud of him every single time they talk, and he believes it, but she’s a mom. She’s always going to want her baby home safe and sound before anything else. He loves her for it, too.

He loves her even more for moving closer Nat and James. She’s lived in the same apartment in Brooklyn forever, but the moment he told her about Natasha, and about Natasha being pregnant, his mom packed up and moved just to be five minutes away, just in case.

“Do you think she’ll cry?”

Steve chuckles over the phone even as his chest does this stupid little squeeze, thinking about Natasha and those big, bright eyes of hers welling with tears. She’ll probably bite her lip the way she always does when she doesn’t want to cry. He thinks that she’ll probably hold her breath a little when she sees him for the first time in over a year and—

“Yeah, I think she will,” Steve tells his mom over the line. He must be grinning like an idiot when he says it, because beside him, Bucky chuckles softly and shakes his head.

Natasha teaches at this ridiculously prestigious ballet school in the city, and he knows she’ll be in the middle of rehearsal when the bus drops them off, because his mom told him. He thought about waiting for them to be done before he dropped by, but he knows he can’t be in the same city as Natasha and not want to see her right away. He can’t. Their show is just two weeks away and rehearsals are probably crucial right about now and he gets it. But also, he misses his wife and doesn’t think anyone will mind him snatching her away a little early.

Plus, his took James out for the day, and Steve isn’t about to waste a second of time alone to catch up with his wife.

Bucky is grinning at him after he hangs up with his mom, and, in the row in front, Sam and Clint turn in their seats. “Stop holding out on us, man,” Sam says, and Steve laughs, pulls up the picture his mom sent of James and turns his screen for them to see.

“God, he’s like a carbon copy of you,” Bucky says in this low, awed sort of tone. “Look at that nose.”

“Look at those eyes,” Clint laughs as Sam takes Steve’s phone and zooms in on the photo. “I didn’t think your perfect shade of blue could be replicated.”

“I always knew you loved my eyes, man,” Steve quips.

Sam chuckles and shakes his head, swiping to the next one, his smile softening when he sees it. “That’s a nice one,” he says, handing the phone back to Steve, and Steve can’t help the way his stomach flips when he sees the photo. It’s the one his mom sent him just the other day, of Natasha and James at the park when they went on a picnic. Natasha’s wearing this pale yellow sundress that he knows she loves more than she’ll admit, laying on the grass with James sitting on her stomach, his smile bright and his tiny hands filled with flowers.

It’s crazy to think about how different his life would be without these two in it. How different it would be if he’d never kissed her at that diner at two in the morning.

She always talks about how cheesy their story is, but he loves it. He does. They met on their very first day of high school and it changed just about everything, slowly but surely. Because he thinks part of him knew, even back then, that Natasha was it. That she was the one. And he thinks that she felt that same way, too.

No, he knows that she did. Maybe they never really talked about it, and maybe that’s because they were too terrified about losing their friendship to take the risk, but it was always there. He felt it in the way his chest felt tight and warm whenever she crowded his space, whenever she blinked those ridiculously long eyelashes at him and quirked her lips and told the most horrendous joke he’d ever heard, just to get him to laugh. He felt it in the way she always got this look in her eyes when she asked how his dates went, how her eyes got a little bit brighter whenever she caught his gaze across the room. How she always looked a little heartbroken whenever he talked about enlisting and training and serving his country.

And he wasn’t about to leave without at least trying. He wanted to know what it was like to kiss her, wanted to know how soft her lips felt, if she’d make some little sound, if she’d kiss him back. And she did. He still remembers the taste of her strawberry milkshake on her tongue, and the little whimper she let out when he nipped her lip.

She let out that same whimper when he kissed her after he’d proposed, and again when he’d lifted her in her big, white dress and pressed their lips together.

Fuck, he can’t wait to see her.

... ...

He picks up the bouquet that his mom called in for him at the florist down the street from the school, and yeah, he knows he’s drawing stares with his uniform and his military duffle slung over his shoulder. It’s something he’d never really gotten used to, and he still doesn’t know what to say when people get all flustered around him or thank him all the time. It’s always flattering and he appreciates it, of course, but it’s not like he enlisted for the recognition. He could’ve changed into his civvies on the bus, but it’s really not that big of a deal.

And, honestly? He doesn’t even care about what he’s wearing when he walks into that studio. He doesn’t care about anything that isn’t her.

She hasn’t seen him just yet, which is kind of ridiculous considering they’re in a room full of mirrors, but she’s just so lost in her routine and he fucking loves to just watch her like this. She’s just in leggings and his loose shirt that falls off of her shoulder, and her hair is already falling out of her bun, but she’s still the most gorgeous person he’s ever laid eyes on.

There are a group of little girls that he knows are in the show (Natasha’s been training them herself and showed him pictures and everything, because she’s so proud of them) and a few instructors he knows he probably met before he left, and they all sort of gasp when Phil Coulson steps aside so he can walk into the room. It draws Natasha’s attention, of course, as she comes out of a twirl, catching his gaze in the reflection, and her entire body just stops. Her cheeks are flushed and her lips are parted and he swears she’s holding her breath.

He smiles at her, taking a step closer, and it seems to snap her out of her surprise, because then she’s turning on the point of her toes and running at him. He’s breathless and laughing as he catches her, only barely remembering not to completely crush the bouquet he’s still holding onto.

She’s got her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck and her head buried into his neck, wetting his skin with tears. He’d tease her about it, because it’s their thing, and also because he loves being the only person she’s ever cried for. (Well, other than James.) Except he’s totally choked up, too, and his eyes are blurry and stinging like crazy.

He’s missed her so much. He’s missed her so much.

He’s missed her scent, missed her warmth, her voice. He’s missed the way they fit together so perfectly. He’s missed waking up to her and falling asleep next to her and watching her with James, listening to their laughs together, catching the look of total contentment that passes over her face when Steve’s holding onto the both of them.

“Fuck,” she breathes as she leans away, just far enough for her to see her face. Her eyes are wet and her eyelashes are dotted with tears, and she wipes at her cheeks with the backs of her hands, letting out a breathy, shaky sort of laugh, like she feels silly right now. Then she catches his gaze, and her entire expressions brightens even more, if possible. “Hi.”

His heart actually skips.

“Ma’am.” His voice comes out chokes and shitty, but he doesn’t care, not even a little. She looks so happy, even as she makes this little face and reaches around her, pulling the bouquet from his hand. Okay, so maybe it’s a little matted on one side now because he’d hugged her so tight, but whatever.

“You brought me flowers for your homecoming?” she asks, totally grinning. He shrugs a shoulder and she lets out a laugh. “You’re such a dork.”

“Well, I’m your dork, and you’re stuck with me,” he says, and he’d meant it to be teasing (well, mostly teasing). But then Natasha’s eyes get soft and misty all over again, and she swallows lightly, bunching the material of his military uniform between her fingers.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he echoes, and she kisses him again, letting out that perfect little whimper of hers when he nips at her lower lip. And with that one little sound, everything feels like it falls back into place.

[everlark-your-own-adventure]

Powder Keg - Ch 3

Happy Monday, Everlarkers! Last week’s episode of EYOA’s Powder Keg left our Katniss with a dilemma - call in Grumpy Gale on his day off, or spend an entire day with archnemesis Peeta, who somehow broke her heart.

You chose for Katniss to throw caution to the wind and spend the day with Peeta. What happens next? Our own @burkygirl continues the drama (hang on to your hats, kids, this one’s a doozy!)

As always, you have 48 hours to vote, until noon, Wednesday, November the 22nd. Remember, vote in the comments or reblogs, not in the tags! And as always, share with your friends, more voices = more fun! Ready? Here we go…

The door to the staff room slams behind me as I storm away. I have got to get some fresh air. I need to be alone for 10 seconds or I’m going to scream. Fucking Johanna. She might as well have stuffed us into a get-along shirt like a couple of bratty kids. And what kind of choice is that anyway? As if I’m going to drag Gale up here on his day off to deal with a bunch of kids just because Dickwad is doing a tap dance on my very last nerve. That's not fair to Gale. He works two jobs to help his mom take care of his brothers and sisters and this is the only day he gets to sleep in. And anyway, I definitely don't need him running up here and trying to save me.

The cold air slices through my lungs the minute I step outside. I close my eyes and breathe deeply; each sharp, frosty inhale forcing the red haze just a little bit farther away. When I’m calm, I go back inside and find Peeta in the staff room packing up his gear to go home for the day.

“What are you doing?”

His expression is flat, emotionless as he methodically packs his bag. “What does it look like? I’m obviously not going to get any work here today. I might as well go home and help Dad at the bakery if I’m going to work for free.”

My attempt at another calming breath comes out like an impatient huff instead. “We have a class, like, any minute.”

His eyes snap to mine. “You didn’t call Hawthorne?”

I throw myself in a scruffy armchair that must have gotten dragged in here when it was no longer presentable for the guest area. “No. I am not going to do that to Gale on his day off. Just stay away from me, Mellark, and it’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to do that if we’re supposed to work together all day.” Peeta runs his fingers through his hair until it’s standing on end. “I just don’t get why we can’t be friends, Katniss. We used to be, or at least, I thought we were. I don’t understand why you’re so determined to hate my guts.”

“Are you kidding me right now? You completely humiliated me and you don’t even remember it?”

He leans against his locker with a puzzled grimace painted on his features. “No. Elaborate.”

I don’t - I can’t - answer that. Three years later, the wound is still too raw. I’ll cry or kill him. Neither option is acceptable so I jump out of my chair and go back outside to wait for the kids.

The worst, most painful part of all of this is that he can't even recall what he did to me.

Three years ago, I thought Peeta and I were well on our way to being a couple.

Nearly every morning, he’d greet me on the slopes, his eyes as bright and blue as the sky behind him. We’d spend the day carving up the slopes, skiing in and out of each other’s turns just like he did today. We drank hot chocolate in the lodge while we warmed our toes by the fire, Peeta’s arm thrown over my shoulders. I’d laugh at his corny jokes and tell stories about the time I spent here with my dad. Some nights, we’d stay for night skiing and we’d fly down the mountain together, the snow beneath us a sparkling carpet of sugar as we whooshed along under the glow of the lights. Then Peeta would drive me home and we’d listen to classic rock as we bumped down the mountain.

Gale tried to warn me about him. He said I was reading too much into Peeta’s friendly gestures, that he was a player and I needed to be careful. Gale had been hinting at wanting to be more than friends with me for awhile, so I just brushed it off. I told him he didn’t know Peeta, that he wouldn’t do that to me.

A few days before Christmas, Peeta and I were lingering in the warmth of his truck, listening to tunes and reliving the best parts of our day when he turned toward me and his crooked smile grew serious.

“You’re a really great girl, Katniss,” he said, and then his gaze flicked away. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip and his thumb drummed on the steering wheel.

“Thanks,” I managed to choke out. “I like hanging out with you too.” The drumming stopped and Peeta reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. My pulse skittered as his fingers trailed along my jaw. I stirred in my seat, my body yearning to close the space between us. As if of a will of its own, my chin lifted and I admired the way the dashboard lights made him look like he’d been sculpted from marble.

His lips were firm and warm when they met mine and my body melted beneath them. His fingers threaded through my hair tugging me closer and I gasped in response, giving him the chance to capture my bottom lip between his own. My hands flew up to his shoulders, enjoying their strength and revelling in the warmth of his presence and the spicy goodness of his cologne. He tasted of chocolate and cinnamon and it made me greedy for more. I welcomed his tongue as it slipped past my lips, sliding against mine, twisting around it before flicking across the roof of my mouth and backing away, forcing me to chase it into the warm darkness of its cave where I plundered its depths.

A light flickered on the front porch of the house and Peeta dragged his lips away, framing my face in his hands and lowering his forehead against mine.

“I think someone is sending us a signal,” he panted. “I should let you go inside.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Peeta pressed his lips against my forehead and then climbed out of his truck. While he got my skis out of the back, I pulled the rest of my gear from the cab. He carried my skis to the door and then a shy smile crossed his face. “Did you hear about the party in the dorms at the lodge tomorrow night? The instructors have been inviting some of the guests our age. Are you going?”

I’d heard about it. Gale had asked me to go with him. I’d said no. Parties weren’t exactly my scene, especially with the out of town ski instructors, but with Peeta at my side, it might be worth my time.

“Yeah, I think so.”

His smile turned to a grin and he bent down to kiss my cheek. “I’ll see you then,” then he turned back to his truck, his hands stuffed into his pockets. I went inside and, ignoring the questioning looks from my mother, headed straight to my room.

When I arrived at the party the next night, it was in full swing. The air was filled with smoke and the clinking of bottles as people relaxed to the music. I scanned the room for faces I knew. Johanna, not yet a manager, was wrapped around a hulking blonde instructor named Gloss. A guy named Finnick had his head in the lap of a shy girl whose name, I think, was Annie. Gale was scowling in a corner, his beer clutched in his fist. And in the middle of it all was Peeta, his arm wrapped around another girl our age named Bristel who was snuggled up beside him. A wave of emotions crashed over me, extinguishing any flame I might have been tending for Peeta. It was a potent brew, a blend of humiliation and disappointment. Tears threatened and I bit down on my lip so that I didn’t give them both a piece of my mind.

I stood there, waiting for him to notice my arrival. When his gaze fell upon me, he gave me a wave and returned to his conversation with her. I’d been dismissed. Clearly, the night before had just been a lark, something to do because he was bored. He was a jerk. An ass. A party-barge-sized douche.

My thoughts were swirling so fast I heard nothing as I walked out, starting back for my mother’s car that I’d borrowed for the evening. As I sat in the dark trying not to cry, I heard a tap at the window. Gale needed a ride home. I told him to get in and we drove back to town in silence.

I never spoke to Peeta after that night and to this day, Gale has never so much as offered me an “I told you so.”

My dismay when I heard Peeta and I would be both hanging around the instructor’s lounge this winter was almost too much to bear. I was going to have to deal with him everyday, just to have a shot at this sweet job that is double what anything else pays in town. And now we have to spend all day teaching a bunch of nine-year-olds to ski? My life sucks sweaty balls.

The bus rumbles up the road and I can see the kids bouncing up and down in their seats. The door opens wide and they all pile out, jabbering away at the top of their lungs.

A young teacher is the last to disembark. She makes her way to me and shakes my hand with a smile.

“I’m Madge Undersee,” she says, “and this is my class. As you can see, we’re very excited.”

“Katniss,” I tell her. “Welcome to Mt. Mockingjay.”

“And I’m Peeta,” says my nemesis, who has appeared beside me, and I watch as Madge falls under his spell. She giggles. Giggles! It’s disgusting.

“We’re your instructors for the day.” He turns to me. “Shall we get started?”

At my nod, Madge claps her hands and calls out to her students who soon fall into silence.

When they are quiet, I speak up, unwilling to let Peeta establish himself as the leader for the day.

“Welcome to Mt. Mockingjay,” I say to the wriggling masses. “I’m Katniss and this is Peeta. We’re going to get you on skis in a bit, but first we have to go over some rules. These are for your safety and-”

And just like that, they’ve tuned me out and returned to talking to each other. A sharp, “Class!” from their teacher brings them back in line.

Peeta holds up his orange helmet. “This is your brain bucket,” he calls out and the kids laugh. “You put it on before you put on your skis and you don’t take it off until you take your skis off. Got it?”

Twenty-two heads nod.

“Peeta and I are your teachers today,” I tell them. “No one leaves the bunny hill until we say you’re ready.” A couple of boys in the back of the crowd roll their eyes.

Beside me, Peeta clears his throat. “But we know you all can do it and even if you don’t get down a big hill today you’ll learn enough today that you might be able to do it next time.”

Ugh. He’s so good at this stuff. It makes me crazy. I’m the one who’s been practically raising a kid since I was one myself and with a cheesy grin and a bad joke, he's won them over.

It’s a bit like the way my dad used to handle his students, which annoys me further.

“Are we allowed to have snowboards?” pipes up one of the eye rollers.

I look to the teacher who gives a slight nod. The potential for a clear division of labour emerges.

So now I’ve got a choice to make. I can divide them up, boarders and skiers, and cross my fingers that they won’t all choose boards just to hang out with Peeta, or we can go with them to get their equipment and test them together.

One option means Peeta and I each have a separate class to teach today, lowering the risk of a blow-up. It also means I run the risk of having his success compared to mine, again, when I’m already in serious jeopardy of losing this job.

What should I do?