#getting out of this stupid creative block I’ve been in for a year

[zootopiathingz]

A Promise in the Dead of Night

“I’m scared…”

Her voice is but a whisper, that Alastor barely registers her words at first. When he does, he feels himself tightening his arms around her, his mind already preparing to shield her from danger that he’s not made aware of.

Something’s been off about Charlie’s behavior and he hasn’t been able to determine the reason. From the moment she stepped in his room, he’s known she hasn’t been in her usual perky mood. It’s not unlike her to pay him a visit in the dead of night. Hell, it’s practically become routine for them. If he doesn’t end up falling asleep with her in her own bed, he can expect to find her hours later in his room, quietly requesting that she stay. And he never refuses. How could he possibly turn down such a request from the radiant, smiling princess of Hell?

But tonight, that gorgeous smile of hers that normally greets him when she enters a room was absent from her face. Her piercing eyes that could read all the secrets of his soul were puffy from tears she must have dried before coming to see him. She hasn’t uttered a word until now. She simply opened the door and walked over to join him on the sofa he sits on and crawled her way into his arms. He hasn’t questioned her, but he finds it odd that she had been so quiet. Not even a laugh, or even a breath. Has she been holding her breath the whole time?

Alastor brings his hand up to the back of her head that lays against his chest, raking his long claws through the soft strands of her golden hair. “Of what, dear?” He asks, his voice only slightly louder than hers.

She doesn’t answer. Not with words, at least. Instead she just further nuzzles her head against him, burying her face into the fabric of his coat like she’s trying to hide from something. Alastor swears he hears a faint whimper escape her—a sound that not only catches him off-guard, but fills him with rage. Several thoughts run through his mind like a herd of deer. What could have happened to her that would send her into such a fragile state? Who hurt her…?

Before jumping to conclusions, he decides to continue with his gentle approach. He shifts slightly, taking her chin between his fingers to lift her head away from his chest, her gaze instinctively meeting his. He’s met with the most heartbreaking look of vulnerability she’s ever displayed. He doesn’t like it one bit.

“What’s troubling you, my darling?” He questions her again, his thumb tenderly caressing the soft, milky skin of her face.

Charlie sniffles and briefly shifts her gaze downward as she struggles to answer in a way that makes sense. “I.. I don’t know.” She sighs shakily. She knows it’s a pathetic response, but she doesn’t know how to explain the hell-storm wreaking havoc in her mind.

Alastor stays quiet, only giving her a look that urges her to go on. And when she looks at him again, she does, however reluctantly.

“Oh Al.. I don’t know why, but I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach and no matter what I do, it won’t leave me alone.” Charlie lets out a small hiccup of a breath, leaning her head forward slightly, longing to lay on his chest again. “I keep having these horrible dreams. They play out differently, but they all end the same way…something bad happens, or someone attacks us, and one way or another, you get taken away from me. I don’t know what happens to you after. I always wake up before I can find out, but I’m afraid that it means you were…”

She pauses, not wanting to actually finish the thought aloud. She knows she doesn’t need to, anyway. Alastor can easily fill in the blank.

His signature smile, sealed by his lips at the moment, tightens at the corners. Charlie doesn’t see it, but his blinking eyes go wide for just a moment. It may be just a coincidence, it had to be. But what are the odds that they were both struggling with bad dreams about losing the other to some unknown force of darkness? Alastor hasn’t let it affect him like Charlie clearly has, because to him it shouldn’t have meant anything.

But to know that his princess was facing the exact same troubling phenomenon…that was a cause for alarm.

He doesn’t tell her of this. No, he refuses to worry her any more than she already has been. It’s his job to ease her worries, not increase them. It’s a burden he’ll bear for them both. What’s one more, anyway?

He pulls her in close to him as she snuggles into his arms. “Oh Charlie, you must not fret over something like night terrors.” He assures in a calming tone, trailing his hand up and down the length of her back. “They’re just dreams, after all. They cannot hurt us.”

“That’s the thing. What if they’re not just dreams?” Charlie argues, her body growing slightly tense at this thought she only just now realizes she has. “What if..it’s a warning?”

Alastor doesn’t even want to entertain the idea. He doesn’t want to imagine that that’s the reason behind their shared unconscious terrors. No, he won’t give into the fear. It will only consume them, and then they will be doomed to face it.

“You shouldn’t think like that, dear.” He says, leaning his head down, resting his chin atop of her head. “It will do you no good. You mustn’t let your fear control you.”

Charlie closes her eyes, her voice reverting back to its pitiful hushed tone. “I can’t stop it.”

There’s a brief moment of stillness between them. Neither dares to move from the warmth of the other’s touch. The air grows quiet, with only the cackling flames of the fireplace providing any source of sound. That is, until Alastor slowly lifts his head and pulls her back to face her again. The look in his eyes takes her aback. His grin is as wide as always, but there’s a subtle glimmer of sadness in his gaze that she’s never quite seen before. She’s not sure if she should feel touched that he’s grown so comfortable to express such vulnerability in front of her, or horrified of the meaning behind it…

“Then tell me what I can do to make it go away.” He raises his finger up to brush her bangs away from her forehead, before resting his hand against the side of her face, cupping her face in his palm. “Whatever it is, it will be done. Just name it.”

Charlie frowns softly, staring at him quietly for the longest minute. She’s not sure there’s anything he can do to make this all disappear. Alastor may be a powerful overlord, wielding immense power that has left even her impressed. But sadly, he can’t just snap his fingers and rid her of her fears like he wishes. Miracles like that weren’t possible down here in Hell.

There’s one thing he can do, though. As simple as it may be, it’s what she needs him to do.

Charlie leans her face into his palm, bringing her own hand up to hold his wrist as she looks deep into his eyes. “Just..promise me that no matter what happens, if anything happens, that nothing will tear us apart from each other.” She says, her voice trembling more and more with each word. “Whether these are just stupid dreams or not, I cannot lose you, Alastor. So please.. promise me now.”

Alastor gives her an incredulous look, raising his brow a little, just before he leans in, inching his face closer to hers.

“Charlie..my princess,” He speaks firmly, his voice lacking any static or filter that it normally carries, “I swear on my damned life, I will never let anything take you away from me. Not Heaven. Not Hell. Nothing is ever going to keep us apart. Do you understand?”

She nods slowly, and as she blinks the tears she’s been fighting back threaten to burst like a broken dam. Alastor kisses her, the tender touch of his lips bringing her a warm sense of comfort. He then pulls her back into his reassuring embrace, and at last the woman crumbles down. She cries into his shoulder, clinging onto him like she may lose him for good if she even thinks of letting go. He doesn’t say anything, knowing he’s said all he can to bring her solace and all he can do now is simply be here with her.

But they both know his words held nothing but truth to them. Charlie’s been the one good thing to ever happen to him in a long, long time. And he would sooner die again than ever let something rip that away from his grasp. He will hold onto her and use everything in his power to fight for her, and he will do it all with a smile on his face.

It’s alright, my love. Is his immediate thought when he hears that dreadful sound of her sobbing. He hugs her as close as he possibly can, letting his eyes fall shut as his face presses onto the mess of hair on her head. The shadow that resembles his shape looms over the pair, hovering its claws protectively over the woman in Alastor’s arms.

Anyone who tries to take you from me will be faced with a fate worse than death…

[primehyuck]

MOVES

aka good things take time (the happy ending version)

word count: 11.3k

i first started writing this because i’ve been listening to the song Moves by Suki Waterhouse on repeat, but it became much more than that

contents: long time best friend!haechan, slice of life, pining and yearning, chronological time jumps (mostly college and young adulthood), other members mentioned (Mark and Jeno!roommates), kissing, fluff, wet dreams, a good example of two people who seriously need to communicate, face sitting, morning sex, lots of pet names

“Do you think we’ll be friends for a long time?” Haechan’s soft voice distracts your attempt to focus on a blade of the blurry ceiling fan, unable to keep you cool despite it spinning so fast you think it might fly away.

“How do you mean?” the bed squeaks when Haechan sits up to lean over you.

“Growing up, I feel like my parents didn’t have many friends aside from each other. My mom told me that it’s because when you get older your priorities change and you realize who adds value to your life, and that’s who you decide to keep.” His eyes are glowing with sincerity, body blocking the flow of air from touching you at all “so when we’re older, and married with kids and other priorities, and we maybe live in different cities, do you think we’ll still be friends?”

You stare at him for a moment before shoving his face out of the way of the fans air stream.

“Definitely,” your confidence soothes him enough that he lays back down “if I ever muster up the creativity to come up with a reason to stop being your friend, you have to swear you’ll tell me how stupid I’m being, swear to me.” you smack his chest before he can even answer.

“I swear!” He smiles to himself, staring up at the ceiling with you, rubbing his hand over the warm spot where your hand made contact, melting into the mattress.

———

Growing up people always joked that Haechan and you would fall in love, that it was inevitable, practical even. Because, if you fall in love with your best friend you’ve already conquered one of the highest mountains - finding someone that you like, and who likes you back.

You had both seen the other in a relationship, an inevitability when you’ve been friends with someone since puberty. He’d cheered you on when you had your first kiss during a game of spin the bottle in high school, forced you to come out on double dates with him and a friend of his you didn’t even like just so he could take someone else out, and freshman year of college he’d even introduced you to the person you'd lost your virginity to.

The only time he cockblocked you was when you tried to get to know any of his friends more than platonically, so eventually you gave up and settled for real friendship with all of them.

“Trust me, you don’t want to touch him with a six foot pole.” He’d said freshman year when you had mentioned your attraction to his roommate, Mark.

“He seems so nice, though.” you pouted

“He is nice, but that doesn’t mean you want to be with him.”

“How would you know what I want?” you scoffed, and he looked at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Has the wind beneath my wings ever led you into the wrong arms?” He was highly animated, offended that you would question his judgment.

By the start of sophomore year it was obvious to everyone else that you were strictly off limits. All of his friends had decided unanimously that even if you did attempt anything with them they had no choice but to shut you down. The cold stare Haechan unknowingly serves them from across the room whenever they got too close was enough to keep them away. None of the boys ever minded the boundaries with you, there always was an ease in your friendship since they all knew it could never go further, but that didn’t mean they never thought about the possibility.

One night, at the end of junior year, Haechan is nowhere to be found at his own party and you graciously accept Jeno’s invitation upstairs when you complain of a headache, “we can play Mario Kart, and it won’t be all competitive like when Haechan plays with us.”

It starts like normal, and you're having fun when you realize that your tipsy brain can’t focus on the screen and the conversation simultaneously, opting for the latter as you relax into Jeno’s pillows. You don’t even notice him inching closer to you until his nose touches yours, tugging at a strand of your hair. This is the first time any of Haechan’s friends have shown interest in you, you’d never even been on the receiving end of a flirtatious stare from across the beer pong table, so you take the reins.

Kissing Jeno feels a little bit like winning, like you’ve finally made it past the invisible forcefield Haechan had put up around his friends. The kiss is lazy and hot, Jeno props himself up on one elbow and presses your back into the mattress with his chest. Your eager fingers run beneath his shirt, his abs tightening when you trail them over his sides. Your spine tingles when he groans into your mouth, the hand on your cheek moving to grip your knee and hike your leg over his hip. His hand holds strong around your thigh, and you sigh when he grinds into you.

Jeno pulls away too soon, stopping your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt with a pained sigh as he drops your leg to roll onto his back, flinging an arm over his eyes.

“Fuck, I should not be doing this with you.”

“Why, you don’t want to?” You want to curl into yourself, sitting up to stare down at his shaking head.

“No, definitely not that.” he pulls his arm away to meet your eyes, the alcohol in his veins making him brave enough to admit “Haechan would be pissed.”

“Haechan?” you question “did he say something to you?” Jeno groans, sitting up and hooking his elbows around his knees, staring at the mattress between his legs.

“No, no. He’s never actually said anything,” he knows he’s revealing too much, but he also knows he’s gone too far to stop “we just know he would never want us to cross that line with you.”

“We?” you can feel embarrassment bubbling in your chest at the idea of all of your friends talking about this.

“Yeah, you know, all the guys. We figured you were just off limits, I don’t know.” he grimaces, looking up at you with apologetic eyes when you don’t respond. You huff and climb off the bed, feeling rejected in more ways than one.

You’d crossed a boundary tonight, but Jeno was still a close friend, someone you’d spent a lot of time with since he met Haechan freshman year. He still knows you, so he grabs your wrist before you can leave, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed so he can stand you between his legs.

“I’m sorry, don’t be mad.” He envelops your hands in his and brings them to his chest.

“I’m not mad,” you mumble, avoiding his apologetic gaze “I’m embarrassed that all of my friends agreed not to touch me.”

“Did you really think not a single one of us was ever interested in you?” you shrug and he squeezes your hands tighter, heart tugging in his chest.

“When people don’t act interested, that’s usually a safe assumption.” you pout and Jeno’s laugh buzzes through your linked fingers "I gave up on all of you halfway through freshman year."

“Well, some of us are better actors than I remember.”

He has you laughing by the time you leave his room, sealing the night with one more self indulgent kiss and a pinky swear to never tell Haechan about what happened.

———

Halfway through the first semester of senior year Haechan bangs angrily on his roommates door before swinging it open and Jeno is genuinely shocked that it's taken this long for the gossip to hit his ears. The rest of the boys had clocked Jeno the next morning for being ‘too happy’ and he had to make them all swear not to tell, wanting to protect your pride and his own friendship with Haechan.

"You slut!" Haechan points an accusatory finger in Jeno's direction, dragging his feet slowly toward him until he's so close Jeno has to bat his hand out of his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about." Haechan's voice is low and angry, something new and unpleasant sparking in his gut at the idea of Jeno kissing you, touching you.

"No, I don't." Jeno can’t help but antagonize. Pleased with the perfect opportunity to trick Haechan into saying out loud what everyone else seems to have known for years.

"You kissed my best friend!" He shrieks, tossing his hands up in the air dramatically.

"So what, she's not allowed to kiss people?" Haechan squints his eyes at Jeno’s response, scrunching his nose in annoyance “how did you even find out?”

"She can kiss whoever she wants, it's all of you that aren't allowed to kiss her." Haechan waves his hand wildly toward the bedroom door, alluding to the large group of boys living in the house “you know Mark can’t keep a secret, he’s been bursting at the seams for months. All I had to do was ask.”

"It happened forever ago dude, why are you so pissed? You've never even given us a chance to get close to her in that way, maybe one of us could really like her." Jeno reasons, tugging at Haechan's strings, watching the gears in his brain turn as he tries to come up with a real argument.

"She has a boyfriend," Haechan finally says with a frown at the thought of the guy he’d only recently met, he doesn’t like him at all. From his stupid hair to the shoes he wears, there’s not a thing about your new boyfriend that Haechan thinks is good enough for you. He collapses into the gaming chair across from where Jeno is relaxed on the couch, not having moved at all since Haechan stormed in "plus, I think any of you would know by now, you've all known her for four years."

"I think, that it can take a lot longer than four years to realize how much you like someone." Jeno bites, "how long have you known her?"

"Since middle school." He picks at the hole in the knee of his black jeans, realizing what Jeno is alluding to, defensive exterior quickly crumbling.

"Right, I think that if you're blind enough then it can take ten years to realize how much you like someone."

"Well, maybe ten years is too long and that person missed their chance." Haechan turns his head to stare out the window, anxiously spinning the chair side to side.

"You know I'm talking about you, right?"

"God, yes, I know you're talking about me." Haechan glares at his friend, fidgeting stopping abruptly "and I know I've been a complete idiot about it, but like I said, I’m out of time."

———

Haechan can’t stop his free hand from clenching and unclenching as you sob into your pillow, his less angry hand rubbing over your back.

“He told me he saw us moving in together after graduation,” your voice shakes “how do you look someone in the eyes and say shit like that and then sleep with someone else?”

“I don’t know,” Haechan replies earnestly, feeling as helpful as flip flops in the snow from where he sits on the edge of your mattress “I’m so sorry.”

He takes your silence as an invitation, lying on his stomach, face turned toward you, fingers still drawing soothing circles over your shoulder blades. He waits patiently for you to calm down, unease swarming his stomach knowing that even after years of friendship he can’t truly comfort you in this moment.

“I’m so embarrassed.” you sniffle, smearing your face over your pillow before turning to look at him. He holds his breath, waiting for you to collect yourself enough to explain.

“I’m so gullible, he even told me he’s cheated in the past and for whatever reason I believed that he’d treat me differently, that he’d love me enough.” Haechan has to count to five in his head to stay calm before he speaks.

“You have no reason to be embarrassed. The most natural thing you can do is believe someone when they say they love you.” He murmurs, turning onto his side so he can pull you into a hug. When you curl into his body to bury your face in his chest he can only pray you can’t hear his heart pound against his ribs.

“He’s an idiot, and he didn’t deserve any of the love you gave him. I promise, you’re so much better off.”

Haechan hates the piece of himself that’s relieved your relationship has ended. The same piece that hated your ex the minute he met him, that feels heavy in your absence whenever you’re busy with anyone who isn’t him. The piece that crosses it’s fingers whenever you get this close in hopes that you’ll be the first one to cross the line, to finally do what he’s thought about doing for the last few months since he realized exactly how he felt about you.

“Thank you,” you mumble into his tear dampened shirt, lifting your leg over his to cuddle in even closer “thanks for always being my friend, even when I do dumb shit, like let boys be mean to me.”

He nuzzles his nose into your scalp, eyes fluttering shut at the smell of your shampoo “Thanks for letting me. Besides, even Beyoncé got cheated on, so you clearly aren’t that dumb.” the crowd in his brain cheers when you giggle into his chest.

“You’re so annoying.” He holds you even tighter.

———

“I can’t believe it,” your jaw drops and Haechan whips his head up nervously to look at you from across the couch

“What happened?”

“I got it, I got the job!” you shove his feet off your lap to jump up excitedly, bouncing on your toes as you read the email out loud. Haechan’s ears are ringing so loud he barely catches the first half, trying to shake off the dazed look he’s sure appears on his face.

“We were extremely impressed with your resume and even more so with the impression you left on the board during your interview, blah blah blah, excited to offer you this position, blah blah blah, and a relocation bonus to join us in in our new office!” the pitch of your voice rises a few octaves as you finish reading.

Haechan stares at you from his spot on the couch, eyes wide with shock that you’re too excited to notice, skimming your screen as you re-read the details in your offer letter.

His entire body is buzzing, torn between feeling excited at your accomplishment and sorry for himself.

He had a plan, a really good one, he thought. After your breakup you’d made it painfully clear that you wanted to be single for a while, and he knew if he could just be patient, it would all be worth it. So Haechan decided to bottle his feelings up, sitting patiently by your side where he had been for so many years, waiting for you to heal and hoping that when you were finally ready to start dating again he’d have mustered up the courage to make the first move.

“Lee Donghyuck, are you even listening to me!?” you drop your phone to pull him up off the couch, bouncing up and down with your fingers intertwined “I’m moving to my dream city, to start my dream job.” you reiterate and he snaps out of it, sweeping the imaginary shards of glass that his plan had been made out of under the rug and pulling you into a hug.

“That’s amazing, I’m so proud of you.”

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.” You deadpan, but squeeze him back just as tight.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to miss you is all.” He admits, "I'd follow you if my job didn't keep me here."

“I’ll make sure you don’t miss me too much, don’t worry.” you plant your cheek on his chest, surprised at the relief you feel in hearing him say it first.

———

This feeling was still a little unfamiliar, nerves. Haechan had never made you nervous growing up; excited, annoyed, passionate maybe, but never nervous.

The nerves began last summer, when he’d come out to visit you for the first time to celebrate his birthday. It was the longest you’d gone without seeing each other since you’d met, almost ten full months and the anticipation was palpable.

When he steps through the airport doors you think that it’s the relief of finally being near him again that knocks the wind out of you. Running into his open arms and being squeezed so tightly in them that you tap his shoulder to let you breathe. Ruffling his hair when he steps back and ignoring the fact that he had grown so much since you’d seen him last.

But as the night goes on, the slight changes to the person you have memorized become glaringly obvious. The way his cheeks have lost some of their cushion, revealing a sharp jaw and pointed cheekbones. The natural wave in his once unruly hair now falling perfectly over his brow bone, he had dyed it a little darker which made his tan skin glow even in dim lighting. Even his smell seemed to draw you into a trance, a much more expensive version of the Haechan you know.

“You know, that group of girls has been staring over at you since we walked in.” You raise your eyebrows playfully, pointing your glass toward the pretty gaggle that keeps walking past the booth you and Haechan occupy.

He doesn’t break eye contact with you before shrugging, “I didn’t come here to see them, I came to see you.” he smiles, punctuating his thought by reaching over the table and tapping your nose.

“I know, I know,” you laugh, batting him away “It never hurts to know when people are staring, though”

His face is unreadable as he rests his arm lazily up over the bench of the booth, body sinking into the seat while he lifts his glass to swirl his drink, biting the words that have been resting on the tip of his tongue the entire trip, and at the end of every phone call since you started your new job.

“How are you, seriously.” You push. In the time since you moved he’d started and ended a relationship with a girl that you’d never met. Your new job kept you so busy that you hadn’t even learned about the breakup until a week later, when you finally had the time to call him back. The guilt of your absence weighs you down, resenting your inability to be there for him the way he had been for you in the past.

“I’m over it, seriously.” You know he’s telling the truth, but it’s in your nature to pry.

“You never really talked about, why, you know.”

“Do I have to?”

“No, I’m sorry, I just feel so behind on your life.” You sigh and push your empty glass to the side, swirling your finger in the ring of cold water it leaves behind.

“It’s okay, really. You’ve been busy, I understand.” He reaches across the table to stop your anxious fingers “I didn’t love her the way I knew I should, that’s all. It’s a good thing that it ended, and I’m happy that it did.”

“That’s all that matters, then.” and he’s grateful that you drop the subject.

You eventually get back to your apartment, both giggly and flush from the alcohol still fogging your brain despite the long walk you'd hoped would lessen it. Haechan holds your hand the whole way back, even when he stops suddenly to pet a dog, dragging you down to the ground with him. He can’t help himself, grateful that at this point you'd touched one another in every way other than what he dreams about most, and you seem oblivious to his need to be so close to you.

As you get ready for bed he lets himself watch you undress facing the wall away from him, unaware of his gaze burning into your backside and the way his fingers tingle at the thought of pulling at the meat of your hips. He scolds his heart for thudding so loud when you squeeze your eyes into a smile at his reflection standing next to yours at the sink while you brush your teeth, the domestication of your friendship that he used to appreciate now suffocating him.

You put on a movie and invite him to rest his head on the pillow in your lap, wishing he could bury his nose into the skin of your thighs beneath it. Halfway through the movie he has to sit up to hide the way his cock is hardening at the feeling of your nails combing through his hair and down his shoulder, occasionally thrumming over his chest. He pulls a blanket off the back of the couch and tosses it over his legs as casually as possible, pulling you into his side by your shoulder, the other arm stretched across the back of the couch.

"Are you cold for the first time in your life?" Haechan never wants to use a blanket, but you’re grateful for the position giving you access to bury your face into his chest, gripping his shirt.

"No, just want to be warmer." he presses a blushing cheek onto the top of your head, trying to think of anything except the way your hair smells, or the feeling of the side of your breast brushing his wrist through your shirt. Haechan feels eighteen again and like he's discovering the connection between romantic and sexual feelings for the first time in his life. He tries to match his breathing to yours, holding his breath whenever you shift in his hold and reconnecting his stomach with your back as quickly as possible. The temptation to pour his heart out is overwhelming, but when he feels your body completely relax into his and your breathing slow down, the words become trapped in his throat, so he lets you sleep.

Haechan had never experienced a shorter 48 hours than that weekend he spent following you around the city you now call home.

You’re shining in your new space, and he happily trails behind you to all the places you’ve discovered in the almost year since you moved. His stomach does somersaults whenever you point something out that reminds you of him.

“I’ve been waiting to come here until you could come with me!” you're so excited to take him to the video game themed coffee shop that your co-workers had recommended “I thought about coming to see if it was even worth it, but I only want to play these kinds of games with you anyway.”

Sometimes he can forget about his feelings for you, when things are just as they always have been. You talk with and touch him the same, laugh at his jokes the same. He thinks that if he were to ever say out loud what he’s been feeling, that the two of you would still be the same but with a little More, ‘you guys’ but on steroids. So when everything is normal he can pretend like it‘a not. He can act like the More is there when you hold his hand to drag him around to the different machines, play games he wants to play even if you don’t want to, you even wipe ice cream off of his chin when his cone starts to melt because he’s talking too much to eat and he wonders why it took him so long to see it this way, and if you could too.

He keeps thinking the moment will come, when he’ll know spilling his guts to you is the right thing to do. But between you gushing over how much you love your new life and your willingness to point out every girl who has blinked at him this weekend, he completely loses the steam he’d gained during his flight, regardless of how his imagination runs wild with the More.

He curses himself the entire weekend for his lack of bravery, hoping that keeping his feelings in is the right decision. After his recent relationship crashed and burned because of his feelings for you he thought he had no choice but to come clean. But watching you, being with you in your new life makes him realize that his role in it hasn’t changed even if his feelings for you have.

The lump in his throat as he stands outside the departure doors is more than just sadness at the thought of leaving you, it’s the realization that he has to let the romantic idea of you go.

“How come you never cry when we have to leave each other,” you hiccup into his chest, and he coos your name lovingly.

“Don’t worry, you know I save my tears for the plane to make everyone in my row uncomfortable.” He knows that you hate that he’s making you laugh at a time like this, pulling away so you can swat his chest and he raises his hands in surrender.

“When will we be able to see each other again?”

“As soon as possible.” He nods reassuringly, wiping your tears with his thumb, heart pounding as he stares into your watering eyes “hey, you’re my best friend in the world, you annoy me every day, and I love you.”

“Whatever, I love you too.” you laugh, but his heart speeds up at the words that you’ve said to him thousands of times. You sweep your arms around him one last time before pushing him toward the airport doors “you better go, if you miss your flight I can’t guarantee I’ll let you leave at all.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He walks backwards slowly, staring at you with a ‘kicked puppy’ kind of face he mastered years ago and you wave enthusiastically, blowing loud kisses into the air that he catches and clutches to his heart.

“This is it,” he thinks, “this has to be it.”

———

Haechan is dreaming about you. He has been nightly ever since he got back from his birthday weekend. He’s grateful the dreams have variety, since some of them overwhelm him to the point of waking up and not being able to fall back asleep.

Sometimes, you’re young again and whenever anyone says “You know, it’s just a matter of time until one of you has a crush on the other.��� you both theatrically gag, laughing at each other as if it were the most insane idea in the world. Or, you're sitting on his childhood couch watching your guys' favorite movie for the hundredth weekend in a row, vocalizing the parts of the two main characters and recreating all the best scenes.

Sometimes you’re at his apartment just hanging out together, which are dreams that feel so real he almost expects to see you in his kitchen when he wakes up. Most of these dreams spark a deja vu laced flame in his gut so deep he finds himself confusing them with memories. The ache of missing you wakes him up before his alarm some mornings, and he finds himself face timing you once he knows you're awake just to watch you make coffee and wash your face.

But sometimes, he has dreams that make him feel so ashamed he can barely text you back in the morning. Dreams where he reaches to touch you and you let him, where you tug at his hair and moan his name while he does all the things that he can only do to you in his sleep. He hates to say that these are his favorite, but it's the one dream he knows he'll never actually achieve and he goes to bed every night praying for them.

That’s the kind of dream he’s having when his phone buzzes him awake. He answers without looking because there are only a handful of people who can reach him when he’s on ‘do not disturb’, and you’re one of them. He hums a sleepy greeting into his phone, putting it on speaker next to his pillow and nearly drifting right back into the dream and between your thighs.

“Donghyuck” his eyes shoot open at the sound of your voice “did i wake you up?”

He can practically hear the pout in your voice, squinting at the time on his phone, “Yes, it’s three in the morning,” he stares down to where he’s half hard, running an embarrassed hand over his face even though there’s no possible way for you to know “are you okay?”

“No, well technically yes but I miss you which means things could be better.” you slur your words and Haechan smiles, somehow he's never annoyed that you call him pretty much every time you drink. He thinks it's because he's familiar with this version of you, though he definitely hasn't seen it often since college graduation. This version of you loves him hard, and is never afraid to say it.

"I miss you too," he takes a beat before adding "I was dreaming about you just now."

You gasp excitedly "Really! What were we doing." He smirks at the thought of telling you that you had been sitting on his face, hand reaching back for his cock while he guides your cunt over his tongue until you were shaking above him.

"Just, hanging out." he shrugs. It's his second time this week alone dreaming of your clit bumping his nose, and the thought makes his mouth water.

"I don't believe you." You say accusingly "that's way too boring for a mind like yours to dream up."

"What exactly is my mind like?" He yawns, throwing his forearm over his eyes.

"Oh, you know," you hum "your mind is a galaxy, with at least a billion planets and twice as many stars. I wish I could fly into your head and explore it, but NASA doesn't have the funds."

Haechan holds his breath at your compliment, the smile on his face so wide he can hear it in his own voice "That sounds like an episode of Magic School Bus."

"Your brain is definitely cooler than some cartoon, it's pretty much my favorite place on Earth."

"How would you know, you've never actually been inside?" He shakes his head, teasing you gently. Hearing words like these come out of your mouth breaks his heart and glues it back together at the same time.

"Are you saying you never think about me?" you ask him, not an ounce of sarcasm in your voice.

"I think about you all the time, I promise, all the planets in my brain are shaped like you." You hum, pleased with his response. He shuts his eyes and waits for your answer.

"Yeah, all the planets in mine are shaped like you, too." you pause for a second and add "plus all the stars, I win, I think about you more."

———

This time when Haechan comes to visit you, you know the nerves are more than just excitement at seeing your best friend. It’s a feeling that is nestled so deep in your stomach it makes you a little nauseous. You haven't seen him since you went home for the holidays and he only has one night in the city. You find yourself grueling over your reflection in the mirror, not used to being self conscious in front of him. You’re only going out for happy hour, but you put yourself together to last all night.

When Haechan finally arrives he whistles lowly, making you blush when he pulls out of your hug and requests a spin.

“I appreciate that you got so dressed up for me.” He teases, hoping you don’t catch his eyes sweeping over your legs, wanting to commit you in this dress to memory.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you roll your eyes as if you hadn’t spent the last two hours making sure you looked as perfect as possible. Hoping he doesn’t see the pile of clothes shoved into your closet from all the failed attempts.

“Never,” he grabs your purse off of the counter and opens the door, sweeping his arm out in front of him dramatically “after you. There are some strangers outside who are waiting to catch a glimpse of you, they just don’t know it yet.”

“You are so dramatic.” You lock the door behind you, using the moment facing away from him to collect yourself. Lately you catch yourself wondering if he'd always been so flirtatious, or if you're just forcing meaning behind his words because of how badly you want him to be.

“What, a guy can’t compliment his best friend?”

You smile widely at him and grab your bag out of his grasp, popping your key inside and walking toward the entrance of your building. Praying your fingers stop shaking when you finally get a drink in you. Haechan throws his arm around your shoulders while you walk down the street to your favorite cocktail bar and you're grateful for his usual chatter, talking to you about work and his slow climb up the ladder.

“They put me in a hotel this time, so you don’t have to worry about making me breakfast in the morning.” He smiles at you, sipping his drink gingerly.

“You know I never cook you breakfast.” He feels so far away across the table and you wish that you were sitting next to him instead, shoulders cold without the weight of his arm around them. It feels so good to have him touch you, to feel like you're his. There's a small part of you that feels guilty for using his knack for physical affection to your advantage, he has no idea what the heat of his skin on yours does.

“I know, but all the meetings are in the hotel anyway so it’s easier this time to just stay there.”

You try not to let yourself visibly deflate at the news, wanting to keep him for yourself the whole time he’s in town. His knee presses against yours under the table and you focus all your energy into acting the way you would have before, but you can’t focus on anything else and cross your legs to pull away from him as casually as possible. As badly as you want to touch him, sometimes you can’t.

“What time do you have to be up?”

He groans, leaning back enough that his knee now slides against your shin, “too early,” and glances down at his now empty glass, motioning to the bartender for another “which means you need to drink faster, so I can stop at a reasonable hour.”

You smile, downing the rest of your drink in one gulp, when his foot taps against yours you know it's going to be a long night.

The end of the night finds you together on your couch with a shared bottle of wine sitting empty on the coffee table, his early meetings temporarily forgotten. You and Haechan have been in this position plenty of times, drunk, slap happy and overly touchy in a way that you had always been comfortable being with one another. The difference now is you, this version of you who wants your best friend in an entirely different way.

Every time he pulls you closer you feel electricity shoot straight to your heart so intensely that you have to duck out of his grasp. You don’t know what to do with the feelings that have been growing gradually from your toes up, now practically sprouting out of your scalp with a neon sign blinking “I’m in love with you” over and over.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Haechan whines when you all but flinch away from his hand reaching for his phone near your arm. He’d been aware of it all night, the space you left between the two of you while you walked back from the bar, your sudden inability to maintain the eye contact that he craved. The complete lack of physical touch makes him feel dejected.

“Doing what?” You give him a panicked look, practically sober at the thought of being found out, of what it would feel like to be rejected by him.

“You’re not letting me touch you,” he frowns, and the alcohol buzzes through your veins again “not that you need to let me, but you only avoid it like this when you’re upset. Did I do something?” he pouts, tired eyes low when he flops his head onto his bicep resting on the back of the couch. You forget to breathe for a second when he looks up at you under dark lashes.

“I’m not upset. I wasn’t doing it on purpose.” you’re lying through your teeth, but scoot an inch closer to him to make your point. He doesn’t look convinced, and if you’d had less to drink you may have noticed the mischievous glint in his eye before he grabs you by your arm, knocking you off balance and into his chest.

“See,” he sighs happily, wrapping his arms around your body and you can feel his chest buzz when he hums, cheek pressed to the top of your head. You have no choice but to ungracefully shift your lower body closer to him, making yourself a sponge and soaking in his familiar touch “isn’t that better?”

You nod, “Yes, it is better.” and you really wish he didn’t know you so well, that even in his fifth hour of being drunk he can read your mind. He pulls your ear off his heart to grab your cheeks, smushing them together and whispering your name with a shake of his head.

“What is it?” he urges, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist to loosen his grip. You shut your eyes, take a deep breath and count to three in your head before you can talk yourself out of leaning forward and pressing your lips to his.

You feel him falter for a half second before he’s kissing you back, pulling your face closer and pushing his body toward yours. You can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears when his tongue touches yours, and then suddenly his mouth is gone. He moves so quick you have to put your arms out to stop yourself from face planting into the cushion he had just been sitting on.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” you gasp “i shouldn’t have done that, Haechan, I’m so sorry.”

It takes everything in you to look up to where he’s now standing with his arms crossed over his chest protectively. You have no idea what he’s thinking, staring down at you with wide eyes. Insecurity sweeps through you under his intense gaze, and you almost beg him to say something.

“I’m seeing someone,” the way the confession rings in your ears would have you believing that he screamed the words, but his voice was barely above a whisper “shit, I’m sorry.”

You aren’t sure if it’s your life that flashes before your eyes, or your years of friendship with him, at this point the two tend to blur together.

“That’s-” you sit back on your calves and inhale shakily, knowing it’s not even worth it to attempt to fake any sort of excitement for him “why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs, swallowing thickly and pulling his eyes away from your face to stare at the ceiling “It’s new and I didn’t know how. It just never came up.”

“Well then, I’m sorry that it didn’t. I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know what came over me.” grateful that he’s finally the one avoiding eye contact with you so he doesn’t see your legs wobble when you stand “probably best to pretend that never happened. I’m just drunk and I missed you-”

Your name sounds so pathetic when he says it this time and you think it’s the eighth wonder of the natural world that you haven’t started crying yet. You shake your head instead, wishing so desperately that you had changed out of the dress you were wearing as you pull the slinky material down your thighs.

“Honestly, Haechan,” You regret your next words before they even hit the air “you should probably go. You have an early morning.”

The shock on his face pains you, but you can’t stand to see what you can only assume is pity growing in his eyes for another second.

“I don’t want to go, I want to talk about this.”

“I’m sorry.” you say again and his shoulders slump in defeat, recognizing that you’d made up your mind.

“It’s okay.” He means it, shuffling forward and the look on your face is nearly enough to bring him to his knees. His breath catches when you shift away the inch he moved toward you, eyes locked on his and he can see the desperation in them before he hears it in your voice.

“Text me when you get to the hotel?” your voice cracks with a heavy mix of exhaustion and embarrassment that makes him nods once, grabbing his things and walking slowly toward your door. He turns to look at you, but his words catch in his throat when he sees your eyes begin to water, mustering up all his energy to offer what he prays is a reassuring smile before letting himself out.

You sink back into the couch when the door clicks shut, head hanging in your hands as the tears finally start to flow. You cry so hard you feel like you could throw up, replaying his rejection over and over in your mind, shame and regret coursing through your veins. Pure embarrassment heats your body at the look on his face when he told you he was seeing someone, and you’re not sure if it was disgust or pity in his eyes.

On top of the rejection, knowing that he didn’t feel like he could share something as big as meeting someone with you was a dagger to the heart, up until recently you had never kept a secret from him, and even this one you clearly couldn’t keep in for long.

You force yourself into the shower, scrubbing angrily at your skin under the scalding water. You get out once your fingers have pruned and your skin feels raw, avoiding the mirror on your way to your bedroom. You kick angrily at the dress you'd left on the floor, watching it land near the pile of outfits you had discarded while getting ready.

Haechan had texted you nearly thirty minutes earlier

“made it back”

you give it a thumbs up before turning your phone off, setting an alarm with the clock on your side table and letting the emotional exhaustion lull you to sleep.

------

Haechan is realizing that there is no way in hell that you need space more than he needs to talk to you. He tries to call you multiple times the first week after you kissed him but you never answered, and Haechan doesn’t want to push you to the point of no return. What he really wants is to go back in time and not leave you that night, but the pain in your eyes was so pronounced he couldn't bare to make it any worse. The only physical proof that you had kissed him at all being the stupid blue thumbs up on the text he had sent you that night. It's followed by a slew of reassuring texts, saying that he broke up with his girlfriend and if you would please just talk to him, that he's not mad.

This is the feeling he carries with him nearly two weeks later on the flight to you, when he’s sure that another minute of silence from you will kill him. By the time he gets to your apartment it’s almost midnight, so he knocks loud enough to wake you up.

When you open the door in a shirt he thinks might be his, Haechan knows he has no choice. He's speaking before you can say anything, before he can change his mind.

"I came here to tell you that I think you're being really stupid." He curses internally for the obvious nerves in his voice, your tired eyes widen with shock at his words.

"Excuse me?"

"Years ago you made me swear that I would tell you if you ever came up with a reason not to be my friend anymore. So I'm telling you now, I think you're being really fucking stupid."

"I'm not doing that" You defend yourself, tearing up at the sight of him. He pushes into your apartment, shutting the door behind him and standing close enough to touch. He’s staring you down with pleading eyes, and you bury your face in your hands so you don’t have to look at him.

“Then why are you ignoring me? Why won’t you let me fix this?”

“I don’t know I just,” you inhale shakily “I don't know how to do it right now, not like this."

"Like what?" He hopes he already knows the answer, but needs to hear you say it, to know that you’re as serious as he is. Your mouth feels full of cotton when he forces you to look at him by whispering your name, pulling your hands from your face and his heart pinches tightly at the tears welling in your eyes "please tell me, please. Like what?"

"You already know," your bottom lip betrays you, voice weak beneath heavy emotion when you speak "I love you, Haechan. I'm in love with you, and I don't know what to do about it. I feel like I fucked everything up, but I can’t undo it."

He feels his lungs fill with relief. Haechan steps forward to close the small gap between your bodies, grabbing your jaw to rest his forehead against yours. You falter, but his hand on the small of your back keeps you from going anywhere, he's practically panting and you can barely stand, dizzy with the feeling of him. You want to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming when he whispers "You didn't fuck anything up."

He ghosts his lips over yours for a moment until he's sure you're not going to stop him. When he finally kisses you it's with years of pent up adoration, directing your arms around his neck and pressing his thumb firmly into your jaw, long fingers wrapping around the side of your throat. He practically whines when your fingers tighten in his hair and your lips part for his warm tongue. His arm wraps around your waist so tightly you have to hinge backward to keep your mouths connected, gasping at the strength you didn't know he had.

He keeps your stomach flush to his own and kisses you until you're practically limp in his arms, pulling away to breathe. His eyes are shut as he rubs his nose over yours

"I love you, too. I've been meaning to tell you for a while." All the blood rushes into your ears at his words and you can't stop your biggest worry from spilling into the air.

“What if you change your mind?”

“I made up my mind a long time ago, there's nothing you could do to change it." He blinks his eyes open, pulling his face away from yours just enough to see you, the trepidation in your eyes makes him say your name quietly.

"It's only me, you know me," he assures you in a hushed tone "you have to know by now that you are my entire world."

You could laugh, only him, as if he hasn’t been one of the most important people in your life since the day you met. As if he isn’t someone who has seen you at every stage of it so far. It’s Haechan, who has always been funny, who has witnessed the worst sides of you and never made you feel bad, who has never left your side.

You kiss him again, fingers wrapping in tight fists around his shirt to keep yourself grounded. Haechan’s heart pounds happily in his chest and he hopes you can feel it this time, both hands nestling into your hair. He kisses you gently in an effort to slow down your urgent movements, moaning at the taste of your mouth. You fall into his rhythm easily, the way his tongue rolls gently over yours makes your body go up in flames. You move your hands to slide beneath his shirt, landing on the strong muscles in his back and teasing your fingers up his sides.

When you finally come up for air he stares at you for a minute before laughing, stomach tightening beneath your fingers when he does.

"What's funny?" you shut your eyes, leaning your forehead into his chest, letting the pretty sound ring in your ears.

"Nothing, I'm just-" he cuts himself off with a shrug, nuzzling his nose into the crown of your head "I love you, and you love me back. That's all, that's how easy it is."

"It hasn't been easy at all, in fact my life has been very very hard since your birthday last year.” He pulls away from your head to ogle at you.

"My birthday last year?" You nod, feeling your cheeks flush under his intense gaze, it had really been that long "God, I'm sorry I'm such a fucking idiot."

He's kissing you again before you can ask him to elaborate, grabbing hold of both wrists in one hand while he walks you backward and guides you up onto the counter as slowly as he has to in order to keep his lips on yours. His hips are the perfect height for you to wrap your legs around, gasping in surprise when he slides his hands around your ass and presses your core tightly against the growing bulge in his jeans.

You feel shy when you pull away to ask if he wants to go to your bedroom, feeling frozen in place when he stares at you with half lidded eyes, his plump lips swollen and red.

"Tonight, I'm just kissing you." Every cell in his body is screaming in protest at his own words. He can't express how badly he wants to do everything else, to recreate his dreams, to learn the parts of your body he'd never seen before. But he can't imagine doing anything but this tonight, just this; his lips on yours, your breath in his lungs and your body melting into his.

"Why?” your eyebrows pull together in confusion. You practically shiver with need, tucking your arms between your stomachs and burying your nose in his throat. His laugh buzzes against your face, rubbing his hands gently over your shoulders and trying to control his own breathing as your lips brush over his skin.

All he can say is, “Because I’ve been needing to for a long time.”

“How long?” You pull away from his chest, leaning back onto your hands and closing your eyes when he runs his own down your sternum and over your waist, groping at the flesh of your hips and trying not to regret his romantic side.

“Way too long.”

“Your birthday?” you ask, tugging gently at his shirt. He plants his hands outside of your legs to lean in close, one corner of his mouth pulling up.

“Much longer.” Your eyes widen in shock, and he interrupts you before you can question him “can we talk about it later? I have something really important to do tonight.”

———

He tells you that he's had feelings for you since senior year of college, when you kissed Jeno. He tells you about his plan to admit everything when he had seen you on his birthday, but that he was too scared. He assures you he ended his relationship the moment he got back home the previous week “because everyone has felt like a matter of 'when' it will end, not 'if',” He tells you that just two weeks of your silence hurt worse than any previous heartbreak, and you agree. And before you fell asleep next to him he tells you again, ‘I'm so in love with you.’ and shimmies excitedly when you say it back before kissing you until you can barely keep your eyes open. He holds your cheeks in his hands and practically lulls you to sleep with his tongue, plush lips pressing to yours so gently you can hardly feel them dotting around the rest of your face. He thinks he could do this forever before sleep finally catches up with him, his arm slung over your side to hold your face to his chest.

You wake up curled into a familiar side, your first emotion being giddy as the night floods back to you. Despite your obvious willingness to go further, Haechan had meant it when he said he'd only be kissing you. It made you crazy at first, but when the two of you were staring at each other in the mirror with shy eyes while moving through a nighttime routine you had gotten familiar with years before, you were happy he had the self control you clearly lack. The idea of him actually seeing and touching you in ways he never had before, of doing all the things you'd found yourself imagining him doing over the last year; it was overwhelming. Kissing until your jaw was sore and your lips were swollen felt easy.

You’re startled by Haechan’s hand reaching for yours, holding your palm and bringing your fingers to his lips to press a kiss to each one, “good morning.” his voice is deep and tired, mouth landing on the crown of your head.

"Good morning." You press your nose into his chest happily, gripping his hand in yours and resisting the urge to squeal with delight.

"What are you so excited about, me?" He teases, hand falling on your thigh to guide your leg up the front of his, stopping just below his crotch and you hope he's going to give you what you'd been wanting all night, for the last year.

"You, I just can't believe how happy I am." You admit, lifting your head off of his chest to smile at him. He pulls you right back down, kissing your lips once before rolling you both over so he's on top of you. He presses a hand over your collarbone and drags his lips down your chin and over your throat.

"You know, this means you're all mine now." he smirks against your neck when you nod, gasping when he sucks gently at the base. He has one forearm on the mattress, the other hand too gentle on your ribs. You can feel that he's hard and you immediately roll your hips up.

"Does this mean you're gonna do more than just kiss me now?" you intend to sound confident, but it comes out as a whimper. His nose brushes over your jaw before he presses lingering kisses to your chin and cheek.

"Yes, baby, if you'll let me." You nod eagerly, shifting your face so your lips are beneath his and sighing happily when he lowers his weight onto your torso, licking into your mouth. You shiver with anticipation when he pushes at your shirt, long fingers tickling up your side before landing on your breast. You gasp into his mouth when his thumb brushes over your already hard nipple.

Your impatience is overwhelming, grabbing the back of his shirt and tugging it up to his shoulders. He pulls away reluctantly, reaching one hand toward his back and pulling his shirt over his head. You gnaw at your lip, running your hands over his stomach and hooking your knees around his hips as much as you can while stretching your arms over your head.

“Cute.” he murmurs, pulling your shirt up and tossing it to the side. He gropes at your chest, tongue wetting his lips before he leans down to wrap them around one of your nipples. He’s trying to act without thinking, to let the dreams he’s had pave the path down your body because he knows the second he acknowledges his nerves he won’t be able to shake them off. His heart thrums when you gasp above him, arching your chest into his mouth. He’s greedy for your sounds, his hands squeezing your breasts together and licking between them to get to the other nipple. When your hips buck up into his he groans, pulling away from your chest and staring down at you with wondering eyes.

“Can I?” He feels unnaturally shy, leaning back on his calves and watching his fingers press dimples into the flesh of your hips above your underwear, tugging at the hem.

“You don’t need to ask.” He smiles, forcing you to sit by grabbing the back of your neck for a kiss. His fingers press into your clothed core and your hips roll into his hand. He sighs into your mouth at your desperation, torn between teasing you and touching you everywhere.

You can’t keep your legs from shutting around his arm when he pushes your panties to the side and slides his middle and ring finger up your wet center, circling over your clit.

You pull away from the kiss, blinking up at him and your mouth falls open when he presses firmly on your clit, rubbing in slow circles. His head hangs as he lets out a quiet “fuck” at your reaction, moving his hand off your neck to stroke over your stomach and without it behind your head you have to lie back, he presses your legs open. Haechan stares at your chest while he settles between your knees, pushing two fingers inside your dripping core. His jaw hangs open, watching his knuckles disappear inside of you.

“So soft,” he breathes, staring down to where his fingers glisten when he pulls them out to rub over your clit again, palming over his cock getting harder in his sweats “want to be everywhere at once.”

“Want you everywhere.” you whine when his fingers pull away to hook into your underwear, tugging them down your legs. Haechan stands to strip and you hold your breath and soak in the soft swell of his hip that leads to where his cock hangs heavy between his legs. It’s pretty like the rest of him, and thicker than you'd expected with a leaking tip that matches the color of his tongue, he strokes himself once and you don’t get the chance to reach for him before he lays back on the bed, rolling you to sit on top of him. You shudder when your pulsing clit rubs over his stomach, inner thigh squeezing into his ribs. He runs his hands up your waist, scooting you an inch higher and grabbing onto your tits.

“Do you remember a few months ago, when you called me drunk and I told you I was dreaming about hanging out with you?” He shivers when you grind down in response, wet pussy sliding easily over his skin “I lied.”

Your hands press into his chest, tilting your head “what were we doing?” you can barely speak above a whisper when he pinches gently at your nipple with one hand, the other rubbing over your ribs when he smirks up at you.

“You were about a foot higher than you are right now,” you gasp and reach out to grab the headboard when he jolts his hips to move you up his chest, staring down at him with wide eyes as he shifts to wrap his arms under your legs, fingers pressing into your thighs.

“You dreamt about this?” you let him bring your hips to hover over his face, hands falling into his hair when he brushes his nose over your clit as he nods.

“All the time,” he moans and drags you down onto his face, lips wrapping around your clit. You shudder above him, letting some of your weight collapse into your heels and he groans happily at the pressure of you on his chin, pressing you harder onto his mouth to fuck his tongue into you. He wants to devour you, every sound you make goes straight to his cock which is already rock hard at the taste and smell of you. Even just thinking about the fact that it's your hips grinding over his face right now is enough to make him moan into your pussy.

You slur out praise, one of your hands shooting up to grip the headboard. His hands wander gently up your sides, eyes opening to stare up to where he plays with your tits, hard cock pulsing at the sight of your head thrown back, hips moving in gentle circles over his face. Haechan’s hand tugs yours down to his hair, trying to restrain himself from thrusting into the empty air at the feeling of you all over him. He hums happily into your pussy when you start to grind over his mouth, flattening his tongue for you to ride until your legs are shaking.

He lets out a deep “mmhmm” when you warn him that you’re going to cum, suckling hard on your clit until you’re practically begging him to let you go, body crumpling forward with both hands tangled in his hair. He's grateful you didn't touch his cock, just the thought of your fingers wrapped around him is enough to make him cum and he has other plans.

You can’t speak when you collapse onto the mattress beside him, immediately warmed by the weight of his body on top of yours as he slots himself between your thighs, sucking a hickey onto the front of your throat.

“Taste too fucking good,” he hums, mouthing over your chin and cheek “been dreaming of eating your sweet pussy for so long.” you practically swoon when he kisses you, pre-cum wetting the inside of your thigh when he relaxes his stomach onto yours.

“Hyuck, want you in me, please” Your vision is blurry, whining into his swollen lips. He works them over your cheek before pulling away from you, bringing one of your legs up to his shoulder and you rest the other knee on his hip. He can feel himself pant when he taps the head of his cock on your swollen clit, practically drooling when he sticks barely the tip inside before pulling back and repeating the tantalizing motion.

“Been waiting for too long to be teased,” you pout, trying to encourage his hips toward yours with the ankle he’s not pressing his cheek into. He smirks and circles his leaking tip over you again, watching his cock spread your arousal around before he pushes into you a little further.

“I’m taking my time with you, feels so fucking good.” He can’t look away from between your thighs, messy hair hanging over his forehead while his fingers grip your ankle tightly. You whimper when he pulls all the way out again, one more hard tap against your pulsing clit before he pushes himself halfway into your leaking pussy. You rise onto your elbows, trying to reach one hand to grab for his hip but he releases the base of his cock to stop you by lacing your fingers together. When Haechan finally looks into your eyes he bottoms out, stretching your leg toward your chest so he can lean in. His hips stutter, a choked groan rumbling deep in his chest.

“Oh my god, Hyuck please.” you beg him to move with a gasp. His forehead presses to your chin, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Fuck, baby, been needing you," he thrusts into you slowly, lifting his head to look down at you glowing beneath him with your eyes shut. He pulls out all the way before thrusting back inside, quickening his hips when your eyes flutter open, the look on your face enough to make his balls tighten slightly, shutting his eyes to regain self control "knew you'd feel so fucking good."

"M’so full, Haechan." you moan at his words and the rapid slap of his hips on the back of your thighs, forcing your eyes to stay open so you can see his face. The way his nose scrunches with focus when he pulls away from your chest, both his hands wrapping firmly around your hips while he watches his cock sink into you. Brown, shaggy hair sticks to his damp forehead, full lower lip taken between his teeth. He’s pure, unadulterated boyish beauty, and he’s all yours.

You squeak when he lets your leg drop off his shoulder, pressing your thigh as far open as it will go with your heel digging into his backside. He fans his fingers over your lower stomach, thumb reaching down to push your clit side to side and your hips tuck up for more pressure, Haechan moans loudly when the movement causes you to clamp around his cock, "Perfect fucking pussy, can't believe it's mine now. Like my fingers on your pretty clit?”

You nod enthusiastically, letting go of your breasts to hold the backs of your thighs, Haechan's eyes move up your body to stare at your chest move beneath him, nipples looking sweet as candy. He’s dying to sink his fingers into the softest part of your stomach, the way you’re moving for him makes his mind turn to sand. You stare down to where his thumb is making circles over your clit, perfectly timed with the head of his cock bruising your g-spot. You feel a second orgasm build and the corner of his mouth pulls up proudly when your legs shake. Your head hangs back as you gasp for air, "yes, please, Haechan feels so fucking good."

"Make the prettiest noises for me, want you cumming all over my cock." he leans forward just enough to trap your throat beneath the weight of his palms, other hand still moving over your swollen clit. You smile at the pressure of his body on yours, eyes fluttering shut while you moan. You nod desperately when he asks if you can do that, "if you can let me make you feel that good, please, my pretty girl."

He takes his hand off your throat when you cum, wanting to hear every sound you could possibly make. You repeat his name like a blessing that has him cumming with you, moaning and breathless as his hips start to slow, milking you both through your orgasms.

You wrap your arms around him when he pulls out of you, reveling in the feeling of him when he lowers himself down, burrowing his face into your neck and warming your skin with his breath. You hold him there for a minute until he pulls his head up, dopey smile lighting up his eyes and making you laugh.

“What?” you scrunch your nose at him “better than your dreams?”

He nods, “so much better, best I ever had, my body belongs to you now.” he smirks at his own words, but his tone is so gentle he can’t even call it a joke.

“Just your body?” you tease, and he leans his nose onto your lips for a kiss that you carry onto the mole under his eye.

“Body, mind, heart, soul,” he sighs happily when you cup his cheeks in your hands, kissing him gently “all the planets in my head.”

"All the planets in my head too."

————

masterlist

authors note // this ended up being much longer than i anticipated, maybe the longest one shot i’ve ever actually written! i appreciate everyone who voted for happy ending because when i was originally thinking of a sad ending it was too hard lol. this feels forever unfinished because there is so much good to this version of haechan, i adore him.

[twostepstyless]

Okay bestie nel @lonelycowgirls got me inspired. Like her I’ve had 7 months of fun and living my best life and also a lot of change of leaving a job and starting a new one (which as an aside I’ve officially passed my probationary period, ya girlies employed employed in something she genuinely loves and wants to do) so I need to come back to myself and I’ve currently got the feeling that I’m not spending my time away from work as well as I could be. So here’s some goals and a lot of waffle to go alongside them for the next 5 months for me to shoot for!

1. Do some conscious, meaningful movement every day, whether that’s a hot girl walk, the slow running club I’m doing with some of my girlies, a swim, a class, cycle, yoga flow, a fucking skipping rope, anything, just meaningful movement. I’ve went from a fairly active job to a mostly inactive role and I am feeling the difference.

2. Stop dipping into my savings. My savings are in a fairly healthy manner and I’m good with my income but I’m getting awfully good at dipping a quick wee 30 quid here and another wee 50 quid there and I’m not helping myself by doing that.

3. Be creative for me again. I’ve been in the trenches of the most horrendous creative block I’ve suffered through since I finished art school during covid. By the end of the year I’d like to have done a few things just to feel that spark again. Those include but not limited or restricted to, finishing at least one painting, do at least one of the embroidery projects I want to do, write something for here?? I’m not even overly arsed about what I’m doing or the final outcome really, I just need to do something with my hands that isn’t for my job.

4. Develop more meaningful connections. This doesn’t have to be romantic, but fuck me I need to talk to more people or develop my relationships with the people I do talk to just now.

5. Get back into language learning. I have been trying to learn Italian well since I was probably about 16, I’m now 27 swiftly approaching 28 and I’m still not overly thrilled with my progress but I bloody enjoy doing it so why can’t I just commit to it. My relationship with Duolingo is frosty right now and I’d like to thaw that out!

6. Be consistent with what I’m putting in my body. Food is a hard topic for a lot of people myself included but I know I need to be more consistent with what I’m putting in my body. I hate the term cheat day but it’s the only phrase I can think of that describes the situation. I’m not a person who can have a “cheat day” because it spirals into cheat week cheat month cheat multiple months and then I just get fucked off with myself. I’m team “everything in moderation” but I need to get better at balancing the moderation bit. I don’t even mean only food as being consistent with what I’m putting in my body either. My water intake while I’m at work is 10/10 I knock that shit out of the park, the second I come home and over the weekend, you’d think I’d have never heard of water and then I feel shite cause I’ve actively dehydrated myself, so I’m actively trying to sort that out.

7. This one is so stupid lmao but I think there’s a lot of value in seemingly simple or easy goals to tick off. Get a new hairdresser. My current one loudly complains about cutting my hair because it’s so long and like girlie I’m paying you? So I’m over that and I want someone fresh to let at my locks

8. And the big one that’s been a goal all year but I’ve just not conquered yet. I’d like to make moves to conquer my driving anxiety. I feel like I’ve spoke about this briefly in the past. I am a good driver and I’m confident driving places I know. However, I am terrified of going anywhere outside that. It takes a lot of pushing myself to get on the motorway and once I’m on the motorway I’m fine. It’s coming off and going somewhere new where I don’t know exits etc or all of it really and I know in my heart of hearts I’ll be fine and can figure it out but I just can’t get myself over the fear to actively do it. So I’d love to make some good progress to tackle that before the year is up.

[mr-geargrinder]

Last few days have been a whirlwind of stuff happening with all this WotC OGL 1.1 business. The leaks were real. The document is now out there. We’ve got confirmations and insider rumors saying that WotC totally knows everyone is pissed, they still think this plan will make them more money, the cancellation of D&D Beyond subs is making them panic, and worst of all, they still think they can push forward with their plans, but they’re going to wait for things to cool down first. 

And then Paizo comes out and says they not even going to fuck around with the OGL, though they will fight WotC in court if it comes to that. Until then, they’re hard at work making a new Open RPG Creative License (ORC) for everyone to use, perpetually, irrevocably, forever, because fuck you WotC, that’s why.

That’s a lot to process on its own and that’s not even everything that’s happened in the last 12 or so hours. 

I think the unsubbing idea is really good, but I’ve also seen a few people who are treating it like it’s a temporary thing. They’re waiting for WotC to back down, rescind the OGL 1.1 entirely, apologize, and then expect everyone to go back to giving them money and buying any product they put out. I think that would be a terrible outcome and I hope that everyone following this developing story understands why.

The OGL changes are just the start. There’s stuff in there about VTTs and other forms of media. WotC has the D&D movie coming out this year and a D&D series in the works, too. They wanted their VTT to be the biggest, most used one on the market, partially by strangling their competition. There’s also very clear plans to pursue further monetization and microtransactions. The OGL wasn’t just about gutting the competition, it was about making sure there was only one platform, under their control, where D&D would live, and where as much of the money as possible would go into WotC’s pockets. 

You can go on D&D Beyond right now and buy individual stat blocks or single magic item descriptions from their official modules. There’s no reason for that to even be an option, but you know that once they finally get their VTT and their new app and the new not-a-new Edition of D&D running, there will be many more things available in microtransaction form. Just a few taps, like Fortnite does, to get some new minis or some fancy effects for your character sheet, or whatever stupid little bullshit they can cram in there to milk people for more money... 

It’s THE WORLD’S GREATEST ROLEPLAYING GAME™ after all. No way they wouldn’t tap as many creators and influencers and possible, eagerly showing you how cool it is to be immersed in D&D, the lifestyle brand, spending money on the integrated D&D Beyond App.

All this to say I don’t think anyone should be going back to WotC and D&D unless there’s some massive course corrections that likely aren’t coming after they spent 150 million to purchase D&D beyond. In my opinion, I think WotC has been a very awful company for longer than it’s been good, anyways. The people they’ve got in charge now are the worst they’ve ever had.

The chances of WotC getting their shit together and not being a scummy company who tries to scam their customers are very low. In my opinion, it’s in everyone’s best interest to just be done with WotC. There are better publishers and independent game designers out there who would greatly appreciate a little bit of love, and I guarantee you that there’s nothing D&D has that you can’t get somewhere else or can’t bring with you.

[doctorbrown]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 21 / 31 * BABYSITTER 」

May 8, 2004, Lone Pine Timeline

George groans, slamming the palm of his hand against the edge of the desk so hard it topples over the vidframe containing a picture of him and Lorraine on their anniversary cruise last year.

“Grandpa?” Emmett asks, peeking his head around the doorframe, his voice small. “Are you okay?”

George smiles down at his grandson, most of the irritation immediately easing off his features save for that crease between his brows that, lately, only seems to get deeper and deeper with each passing day. Lorraine had teased him that he’ll make them a permanent addition to the wrinkles he’s already developing with age—oh stop, George, they make you look distinguished and wise—and he would swear he could feel the rest of the colour leaching out of his hair, turning him greyer and greyer by the day.

“Everything’s fine, Em.” Flicking his wrist, George indicates the object of his current frustrations—the half-formed thoughts and line after line of struck-through text that, in his mind, only represented one failure after another. “I’ve hit a wall—this writer’s block has been going on for weeks and I’m right there, I just can’t—”

Emmett shuffles closer, wide-eyed as his Grandpa lets out an exaggerated sigh that reminds him of Ellie when Mom forces her to share with him. “Writer’s block?”

“It’s like—” George pauses, a thoughtful expression working its way onto his face. “When you’re trying to get somewhere and you know how to get there, but someone puts something in your way to stop you. I’ve been trying to write this one scene for my new novel for weeks and the pieces are all there, I just can’t put them together right now.”

And with the publishers constantly asking for updates, barely hiding their frustration when he tells them, again, that he’s working on it and it will be finished when it’s finished, completion feels more and more like an impossible task.

“Oh!” Emmett announces excitedly, visibly pleased with himself for connecting the dots. “Like Daddy when he doesn’t know how to write new songs. I think he called it something else though…a fu—”

“Exactly like that.” George cuts him off before he can finish that thought and Emmett’s smile remains achingly bright and wide, pulling at the corners of his eyes.

“Can I help? Sometimes when Daddy gets stuck, he talks to Mommy about it and it helps.”

Déjà vu hits like a punch to the gut, reminding George of days long gone—when Marty was five, six years old, demanding to sit on his lap and be involved in the creative process, hanging onto every word and thought and grasping for whatever threads he could grab in his small hands. Creativity burst from him at the seams—something he sees echoed here in Emmett, which leaves him wondering if maybe he’ll follow in one of their footsteps, pursue writing or music or art—and Marty was always quick with a comment or criticism, even if he only half-understood what was going on at that particular point in the story.

Marty was his biggest critic and his biggest supporter, never afraid to tell him ‘That’s stupid, Dad,’ or ‘I like it but I think it would be cooler if this Dark guy showed up here to use his powers!’

“A fresh pair of eyes might be exactly what I need. C’mere. I’ll tell you my ideas and you give me your thoughts. Okay?”

“Okay!”

[takeariskao3]

2022 Wrapped

tagged by @displayheartcode & @hinnyfied 💖

Post the top 5 works you're most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular)

confessions should be better planned this little oneshot really challenged my storytelling and how to convey my sense of humor. i’m very proud to say that it ended up exactly how i wanted. 

enough of both another oneshot that i put together for ttb summer soireé, the idea of harry and ginny as newlyweds is so so interesting to me and i like the idea of them writing letters during their brief bouts of long distance

what we had become (before we ever had begun) this was a brain worm that Would Not Leave Me Alone until i finally wrote it all down. it was my first contribution to jilytober (even though it’s jilypad) and i think i’m most proud that i not only wrote it but had the courage to post, because it is not my usual content. 

already gone i dove headfirst into the angst, which has never felt like a strength of mine, and decided to fully commit to the bit. this one surprised me so much, i have no outline, no real plan, i am pantsing the shit out of it and i love it so so much

the path from you 104,000 words, two spin offs, and twelve chapters later, the universe that lives in my mind because of this fic has completely taken over my life. and we are only half done. i love the journey harry and ginny are on and i love that so many other people love it too

your top 4 current WIPs that you're excited to release in the new year

the path from you PART 2 - i really want to finish part one by april and kickstart part 2 (neville/pansy & ron/padma) by the second half of the year

spring fever - a contribution to @hpknotfest that is self-indulgent smut and i’m not gonna be ashamed about it LOL

ginny potter and the honeymoon of horrors - i’ve mentioned this one in passing several times and i really *really* like it. it is so stupid and so fun. 

a crack fic that i am writing with @nuatthebeach ... no comment

your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year

drafting - though i still want to get better at drafting, i am miles ahead of where i was a year ago. i have really embraced the imperfect first draft and my writing is so much better for it

plotting - i used to be a pantser through and through, but tackling a multichap action fic forced me to actually outline. 

prose - this is so general but i really feel like the rhythm and emotion in my exposition has improved. i’ve found new ways of saying things and added so much depth to my characters because of it. 

your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year

i really want to be a better problem solver, i know i have a good imagination but when what i outlined doesn’t immediately work on the page i get really discouraged, so i want to be more creative in working through my bouts of writer's block

along the same lines, i’d like to be able to *trust* my decision making and not constantly need outside reassurance for my story decisions.. (i really need to thank @narukoibito @nuatthebeach and @fairsquare16 for helping me through this year. i could not have done any of this without them)

and your number 1 favorite line you've written this year

My favorite line that i’ve written this year hasn’t been posted yet... it’s from a later chapter of the path from you:

Harry kissed her the way he’d always wanted to, the way he should’ve the moment Tom Riddle’s body had crumpled to the floor.

Tagging @thedarkestgreys @dammitgranger @seriouslysam8 @theresthesnitch

[archduke-enver-gortash]

9. Favourite OC? for the ask meme! 👀

oof, tough one. ven is my special little clown woman. oleander is my special forest monster guy, the best and worst father of all time. jokes aside, they both mean so much to me, playing these games, shipping them with reg and cami, and getting into the fandom (well, the tumblr fandom. i am not really active on reddit) unironically made my life a lot better. as stupid as it sounds, thinking about them interacting with the world and smooching their LIs literally got me out of a massive creative block. i didn’t draw anything in 2021, and i stopped writing in like 2019. now i am drawing something at least every week, and while i am still too shy and insecure to post any of my writing, i am still writing a few sentences every other day. all because of these idiots :)

and while she has been dethroned by these two, niendayphyll was literally all i thought about from the moment i created her in 2020 to early 2022 when i started kingmaker, so she deserves an honorable mention. and so does n, my oldest character who i’ve had for ten years now, the reason i started creating when i was a kid. they are also the only character of mine who regularly appears in my dreams, so i feel they just should be here too.

[auspicetaker]

hi tumlr

my queue ran out and i’ve been too busy playing TotK to update it. i’ve been doing some personal writing today that’s probably not interesting to anyone else, but i’m putting it under the cut if you’re interested in reading me complaining about all my life problems and not doing anything to solve them.

5/31/2023

What’s my problem? Well…

… I’ve been bleeding continuously for months, maybe years. I’ve lost track. I’m on hormonal birth control to manage my brutal PMS symptoms (debilitating cramps, migraines so bad I can’t stand up, hellacious mood swings) but now I’m just on a low-grade period forever. Not sure what’s worse - the whiplash of the highs and lows of the natural cycle, or being stuck somewhere in the cycle eternally, not up or down, just blood and tissue leaking out of me day in and day out for months and months on end.

… I’ve been wishing to get on T for some time now. I want the facial and body hair, the husky voice, increased muscle mass, new stinky boy smells, a roughening of my too-delicate facial features. However, getting gender-affirming healthcare, even in a trans-friendly blue state like mine, is no small undertaking. Everywhere I’ve called is either not accepting new patients or has a prohibitively long waitlist. I have an appointment with an endocrinologist in a few months, but since he’s just a straight-world endocrinologist, not someone specialized in these things, I am extremely apprehensive he’ll just shut me down. It’s happened before. The T feels like a new avenue to pursue to deal with my endless, miserable bleeding, some different exogenous hormones instead of the estrogen I’ve been taking. It feels like a small glimmer of hope, so obviously I am already prepared to never get it, to have it be taken away if I do get it, or for it to not work out like I imagined. 

… My job is falling apart at the seams. My colleague who was my greatest support was taken away from me about a month ago, unceremoniously laid off due to financial issues (concerning) and I’ve been floundering ever since. I made so much progress with my self-loathing and avoidance around work stuff, and it feels like I’ve taken eight steps back. No, not even that I took the eight steps myself, it’s like I was picked up by a giant claw and thrown all the way back to a more dysfunctional self. I had something good going, it felt tolerable, and now I am floundering, trapped with my stupid boss on his sinking ship. 

… I need to work on my resumé, apply to other stuff. I have always hated job hunting. It is a particularly odious form of the sort of normal-person lying and deception that is necessary for survival in our society. Creating a version of myself that’s palatable to prospective employers, then scraping, bowing, and doing little dances to try and get their approval or consideration… it makes me sick. Part of what was so great about getting this job was that I don’t even think I ever gave my boss a resumé. He already knew me and I was able to just use that goodwill and prior record to pirouette into this current role. Which in retrospect may have been kind of a red flag.

… My mental health has taken a bit of a nosedive in these past few months. Part of it is that I’m tapering off of the antidepressants that I’d been taking for my entire adult life. I was doing okay, but there’s been a few stumbling blocks in a row and things are tough, now. Things I thought I was doing better with (self harm and suicidal ideation) are back in a big way. I’ve accepted that I’ll struggle for a while, maybe forever, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay for the return of my full range of emotions. Long-term SSRI use leaves you in a state of not-depression but also not-happiness. You don’t experience pleasure so much as you experience the absence of pain. For me, at least, I also experienced a profound dulling of what little creative impulses I had. On that front, tapering down SSRI’s has been revelatory - I feel like I’ve unlocked a long-buried self who desires to write and make art, who has aesthetic visions and preferences. I’m collaging again, making art in my journal, learning to make digital art on a tablet, creating wall collages in my room. It doesn’t feel like something new, it feels like something very old that I lost and am finally returning to. All this to say that I’ll take an uptick in my brain screaming for blood and death (god knows I experienced that already on my full dose of SSRI’s) to get a shred of that old self back, to feel the joy and thrill of creation again. 

… Speaking of aesthetics, I’m so fucking sick and tired of all my clothes. I want something new but I don’t know exactly what. I’m tired of the black-and-green color scheme I’ve been rocking for the past 5 years. I’m tired of the skinny leg silhouettes and the too-small band tees. Again, I don’t know what I’d replace this all with. Shopping takes time and money, and I have little of either. In-person shopping is a sensorily draining and overwhelming experience, and online shopping leaves me either paralyzed with indecision or, worse, pulling the trigger impulsively and then wracked with regret. I have made a few stabs here and there towards a new personal aesthetic, getting colorful, oversized new button-down shirts, for example, but it’s slow going, and in the meantime I’m left with what I already have. And I’m so, so sick of it all.

… My house and my room are in a state of flux. My roommate is moving out, and my girlfriend is moving in. I’m sad to leave my roommate (nine years cohabitating!), apprehensive of change, but mostly excited. It’ll be incredible to have my girlfriend by my side all the time. That’s a dream. There are many, many nasty and frustrating corners of my room I keep saying I’ll deal with, and the clock is running out. My closet is a mess, my storage areas are inefficient and cluttered, and I simply cannot seem to get it together enough to do anything about any of it. Additionally, I decided I’d redo the peeling bathroom paint myself, even though we’re renting and it should be my landlord’s job, and it’s taking forever. I have very limited time and resources to deal with the many stages of scraping, stripping, sanding, spackling, priming, and repainting. The bathroom is currently in the “scraped and stripped” stage, but not yet in the “sanded, spackled, primed, and painted” stage, and it looks absolutely terrible. I feel stupid, panicked, overwhelmed just thinking about it. I’ve painted myself (ha ha)  into a corner and I just have to keep going, despite the fact that I never want to look at the fucking bathroom ever again, at this point. 

… There are other things that are necessary to my survival and health that I’ve been avoiding dealing with, or just haven’t had the resources to deal with. I’ve needed new glasses for months now but can’t seem to make myself do anything about it. It takes a Herculean effort just to go to work, cook food, do the dishes, and do my laundry, so higher-level tasks like “writing a resume” or “shopping for new jeans” or “making a necessary medical appointment” just keep getting pushed off for later. And later never comes. 

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright: IV. A Song for Christmas

Previous: III. Christmas for You and Me

Pairings: Min Yoongi x Park Jimin; Jung Hoseok x Kim Taehyung

Genre: Fluff, Non-Idol AU, SLOW BURN

Rating: R

Warnings: Swearing! 

Word Count: 949

Summary: Seokjin and Namjoon arrive at the tree lot.

Notes: Merry & Bright this year is taking the form of one cohesive story involving all of Bangtan! Hope you enjoy this change!

      The Christmas Tree lot on 3rd was the cutest, most quaint tree lot in town. Their first-year post college, the three Kim’s had rented a two-bedroom apartment in the city together. Their apartment had been a few blocks away. They often passed the lot on their way to the bus, or in leisurely strolls around the neighborhood. Their first year, they waited until December 21st to get a tree, fearful they wouldn’t be able to keep it alive. They had kept it alive, and in doing so began a tradition of decorating the tree while drinking mulled wine, eating sugar cookies fresh out of the oven and singing loudly to a variety of Christmas songs. It was a perfect evening, one they replicated nearly every year until they sold their book, and all moved into their own apartments. Now, Seokjin decorated his tree in a similar manner, with Christmas movies playing instead of music. Christmas music, much like the Christmas season, was still difficult for him grapple with.

          “You think the same family owns it?”

          “No – they sold it a few years ago to a different family. The Lang’s I believe,” Seokjin informed him. Seokjin had in fact come back to this lot every year to buy a small tree for his house, one his cats would definitely wreak havoc on.

         “Do they still give you a tin of cookies every year?” Namjoon asked. He turned the radio down to better hear Jin’s answer.

         “The Huang’s used to, up until they sold. But the Lang’s don’t. They just offer candy canes.”

         “As a kid, I loved getting candy canes from tree lots. It always made getting a tree special.”

         “You know we used to live together, and work together every day for years, right?” Seokjin said.

         Namjoon tilted his head and glanced sideways at him. “And?”

         “You’ve told me about the candy canes before.”

         “Oh, sorry?”

         “What you haven’t told me is what you’ve been doing for the last five years,” Seokjin gave him an opening, and Namjoon wasn’t stupid enough not to take it.

          “I’ve been busy, writing some, teaching mostly.”

          “Where are you teaching?” Jin asked.

          “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Namjoon teased. He glided his car through the streets towards the lot they had once loved. He was struck with the memories of how the three of them would pile into his aggressively used Prius and maneuver through the city, sometimes on night drives just the three of them, sometimes in pairs… exploring every nook and cranny they could before the sun came up and they had to be somewhere else.

          “What do you teach?”

          “Creative writing and a 300 level English lit course.”

          “Do you enjoy it?”

          “I do,” Namjoon answered. “It’s fun and engaging, and I have a lot of freedom with my curriculum. It’s never boring or the same day after day.”

          “I understand that. There’s an inherent monotony in writing every day,” Jin shared.

          “Is there?”

          “Yeah, you get up, drink coffee, spend hours staring at your computer screen, and some hours editing or outlining new stories. There are a few meetings thrown in there, but it’s a pretty isolating existence.”

          “How do you manage?”

          “I have a cats,” Jin laughed. “That sounds incredibly pathetic.”

          “It’s not, pets are nice, they keep you company.”

          “When they’re not being total assholes.”

          “I feel like cats are either sweethearts or total monsters, it’s never an in between.”

          “That’s true, and when you put them together you don’t know what they’re going to become.”

          “Yours are monsters?”

          “Things were fine when it was just Toby and me, but then I added Sam so Toby wouldn’t be lonely. That’s when things broke loose.”

          “Are your cats named after TV characters?”

          “From The West Wing, yes.”

          “I’m surprised you didn’t pick something else, no Brooklyn Nine-Nine or Alias?”

          “I am refined, thank you,” Jin said.

          Namjoon pulled into the perfect parking spot in front of the little lot and parked. Turning off the engine, he turned to Jin.

          “What kind of tree are you looking for?”

          “Something small that I can put on the table, nothing too big that would require me to use anything other than the small stand I have,” Jin said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. He exited the car and waited for Namjoon to circle the front. “You?”

          “Oh, under 5 feet for sure, nothing to rotund but decent leaves.

          “This is going to take hours, isn’t it?” Seokjin asked.

          Namjoon laughed. “No, I’ll try to be quick about it. Tell me about what you’ve been writing.”

          Seokjin began to speak, weaving tales of the stories he’d created and the ones he was working on, of middle grade novels and series he was at the beginning of creating, and those he was at the end of finishing. Prolific crossed through Namjoon’s mind as he listened, that and how cute Seokjin looked while speaking with such passion. It took everything in him not to kiss Seokjin, but that would’ve been inappropriate in this situation… that wasn’t scheduled in the plans for a few more steps.

          “That’s a good one,” Seokjin said an hour later, as Namjoon examined a tree for what felt like the fiftieth time.

          “Is it?”

          “Namjoon, you’ve looked at that tree at least three times and have inspected every inch of it. It’s cold, I’m growing weary of your mostly unpleasant company and would like to take my tree home. Can we be done now?” Seokjin whined.

          “I forgot how whiny you can be.”

          “I forgot how indecisive and child like you can be.”

          Namjoon stared at the glare Seokjin was giving him before he nodded.

          “Okay, I’ll take the tree.”

Next: V. Christmas for You & Me

[imxthexhandler]

I posted 3,033 times in 2022

861 posts created (28%)

2,172 posts reblogged (72%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@wildthiiing

@agentjjkelly

@w-e-b-h-e-a-d-s

@glitchexmachina

@koiwrites

I tagged 3,025 of my posts in 2022

#damnit barton do your paper-queue - 2,417 posts

#mission objective - 527 posts

#ask meme - 521 posts

#case notes - 264 posts

#redacted (nsfw) - 214 posts

#out of field reports - 197 posts

#operation watchtower - 196 posts

#bolo - 195 posts

#things the handler likes - 166 posts

#random post - 152 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#(...i can just hear the force theme while looking at this picture and here's me trying not to cry because that song makes me so emotional)

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

OOC: So my blog got tagged as explicit... Great.

Just...great...

And considering this is the second time in two weeks this is happening, it is not helping the paranoia aspect of my anxiety. It makes it almost feel like someone is reporting rather than Tumblr just being stupid.

If it’s the latter, then great job, algothrim. Because you missed the 3 p0rn bots that tried to follow me that I had to block...

If it’s the former, just what the crap? If you don’t like me (and I get it, hell, most of the time, I don’t even like myself) or you don’t like my writing (again, I understand), then just...unfollow or block or what have you and leave me alone?

Because this really makes me not want to write on here. It really saps the motivation I had towards writing, which sucks because I was finally getting back into a writing groove.

I’ve had this blog for nearly 8 full years. EIGHT. I don’t want to delete this blog or move (not to mention all the sideblogs I’d have to move, too...) to a new blog! And it just... Like, what do I do? Do I keep posting? How long do I wait for the appeal? Just... ARGH! It sucks. It really, really, really sucks, and I just have been so stressed out and having my own self-doubts about my writing creeping in, and I just... WHY THE KRIFF WAS IT FLAGGED AND WHEN WILL IT GET REVERSED?!

So, yeah. I dunno. I guess let me know if you guys are okay with me still writing or should I wait till this sorts out (hopefully)?

16 notes - Posted June 11, 2022

#4

Currently sexuality:

Ewan McGregor twirling a lightsaber.

Is this OOC or IC?

Yes.

18 notes - Posted May 15, 2022

#3

Waiting for the Right Partner

Hello, @caiti-creative-corner I was your Steggy Secret Santa! I am sorry for the delay. I was hoping to have your fic done by New Year's, but due to some work issues, it's taking me a little bit longer.

So, to hopefully tie you over, here is a Steggy mood board and themed playlist.

I apologize for the delay, but I hope this will give you some Steggy goodness in the meantime.

"Waiting for the Right Partner"

-A Steggy (Steve/Peggy) fanmix playlist.

01.) "Young and Beautiful" covered by Postmodern Jukebox.

02.) "It's Been a Long, Long Time" by Kitty Kallen.

03.) "The Way You Look Tonight" by Frank Sinatra.

04.) "Sway" by Dean Martin.

05.) "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" by The Andrew Sisters.

06.) "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" by Frank Sinatra.

07.) "I Can't Believe That You're in Love With Me" by Rosemary Clooney.

08.) "Too Good to be True" by Dinah Shore.

09.) "We'll Meet Again" by Vera Lynn.

10.) "The Very Thought of You" by Billie Holiday.

19 notes - Posted January 9, 2022

#2

[Continued from here.]

@w-e-b-h-e-a-d: Peter wasn’t expecting this surprise at all so when Amelia texted him saying she made a little nerdy video for him … His mouth about dropped on the floor when he saw dancing in nothing but the slave leia loin cloth and just a chain.

Amelia waited a couple of minutes before texting him again.

[TEXT: Peter] So, what do you think? 😘

She never attempted something like this before, so she hoped he enjoyed it. Granted, she got the costume for herself, but still, the video was meant to excite him.

23 notes - Posted August 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

[Continued from here.]

@w-e-b-h-e-a-d:  Peter quietly walked up behind her groping both her breasts in his hands and began to massage them between his fingers.

Amelia gasped, almost dropping her coffee as her boyfriend surprised her, his warm hands pawing at her breasts, her body jumping up slightly, shocked, before she moaned, and she glanced over her shoulder at him, her cheeks flushed a bright pink, her thighs clenching together tightly. “Peter!” she squeaked.

35 notes - Posted August 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

Tagged by: the ever fab @koiwrites to look up mine.

Tagging: @agentjjkelly; @goddamnmuses; @bennyboylewis​; @agentsterling​; @marvariants​; @wildthiiing​; @leschanceux​; @manymusesbym​; @secretswritten​; and @glitchexmachina​.

[wellnesswithaleenalir]

My Work From Home Essentials

I could go into a long detailed explanation about how working from home has become popular and begin to describe to you all what remote work is and what it truly entails. Blogs like this drive me crazy, simply because I am way too busy to be spoken to like I’m stupid. Remote work has been around since before COVID, and COVID quarantine seems to have further popularized remote work. So, in the interest of saving your time and mine, we’ll keep this as simple as possible! 

I’ll share a short list of the things I absolutely cannot function without while working from home, but first - a few basic disclaimers (or better said) a better understanding of what it is I do for my “9-5” job, so you can understand how these tools have been useful and effective for myself and the role I play at work.

So… what does Aleena do for work?

If you can believe it, I’m a fitness manager for a gym located in Downtown Los Angeles… but I work remotely. I’m probably the only fitness manager on the planet that works remotely, most people can’t imagine this job being something that can be done remotely. Moving away from Los Angeles and transitioning to remote work allowed me more time in my schedule to also take on the marketing responsibilities of the gym, so in addition to being the fitness manager I am also the marketing coordinator. So… in short, I manage the fitness and marketing teams of a small luxury boutique gym. I love what I do, although it can admittedly be monotonous at times, I find so much joy in the fitness industry and I get to be creative with my work too!

Working remotely requires an extreme amount of organization, especially when I have 25 direct reports. So here are the tools I use (external to my organization) that keep me on track. These tools also make it easy for me to catch up when I fall behind.

1) NOTION

Hands down the best free software I have ever used. I introduced Notion to our gym about a year ago. Since then it’s been the crux of our gym, but has also been beyond useful for me in my own matters relating to work. In Notion you are able to build out your own private pages in which you can take your own notes, create your own databases, and organize your own information. I use the private pages on Notion to keep track of road maps and growth plans for my team. I also use it to schedule the deadlines I set for myself that are internal to projects.

2) APPLE CALENDAR

I’m a huge fan of time blocking my schedule, and it’s proven even more useful since I’ve transitioned into remote work. One thing about being a manager and working remotely - I get to create my own schedule. I show up to my desk at home when I want to, and I leave when I want to. This means, I need to stay active in building my schedule effectively to make sure I get my work done. Apple’s calendar app has been such a huge lifesaver. I used it before I moved away and was still working in the space, but it’s usefulness has tripled since then. I time block every hour of my waking days, and the push notifications allow me to stay on track with the hours I schedule for myself.

3) ERIN CONDREN TEACHER PLANNER

I have a tendency to group things, almost to fault. Running two departments can be exhausting and there is so much to keep track of. The Teacher Planner by Erin Condren has made this incredibly helpful. I relabel categories from the top and bottom to fit the categories associated with work the and dates I show up for work. This allows me to stay on track with projects, deadlines, communications, and literally anything else that may be thrown my way.

4) EARL GREY TEA

This one is a bit random. I worked at Starbucks for three years when I was in college. After far too many flat whites and blonde drip coffees, I realized I had to scale back on my caffeine intake. I switched to Earl Grey tea about 2 years into working there and since then Earl Grey has been a staple in Aleena’s pantry.I quite literally can’t sit down at my desk without my cup of tea. I suggest everyone find a soothing and mildly stimulating beverage to start their day with and to build a routine around the preparation of that beverage. I might’ve picked this habit up from my father. He had a daily morning routine in which he would get ready, wake his kids up for school, and while we sat at the dining table eating breakfast he was making himself a cup of coffee in a travel mug. I would look at him thinking “that is such an adult thing to do” and perhaps as an adult I’ve found it a necessary part of feeling like I’m having a productive morning. 

5) PILOT PRECISE V5 CAPPED LIQUID INK ROLLING BALL PENS

I do most of my work on a computer, but with my physical planner comes a need for a pen. I always recommend finding a pen that does more than just write. And yes, a pen is a pen is a pen, but THIS pen hasn’t let me down since I was in middle school. No other pen writes the same way this pen does, at least in my opinion and my experience. We’ve all had that moment when we write with a pen for the first time and think “wow, that’s a good pen.” I think a huge part of enjoying your work is enjoying the things you use to complete your work, so I choose to use these pens and these pens only for work related notes and planners. It just makes the process that 0.5% more enjoyable. Find the pen that soothes you. 

These are my absolute must haves to sit at my desk and get my workday started. What are yours?

[glowyjellyfish]

Notes about my creative and gaming ventures:

I started nanowrimo with the intent of finishing a. My Encanto fanfic and b. My Cait Sith to the Rescue fic. I did about a week of work on the former, got slightly stuck and more interested in other non-writing projects, and haven’t recovered. I progressed pretty well, and inched closer to the end, but it feels stuck now. It’s a stupid little point of I need to include Felix now because he’s the only family member I haven’t written yet and it makes no sense for him to not be there, and I don’t know how. More likely, I just have to sit down and write it.

I’m much less stuck on the Cait Sith fanfic, but I am trying to finish these in the order I promised myself. I have a solid outline for the rest of it, and have poked a bit and played with dialogue; I feel it will go fine when I get around to it.

The major distraction was my shiny new Sims 2 project! …which like my other sims projects has slowed to a crawl because of the ridiculous way I set up my CC. It’s working a lot better than setting up my medieval CC did, mainly because there is so much less stuff (and also because I learned the hard way to stop installing lots without clean installer, and other similar wisdom you’d think I would have learned in the twenty years I’ve been playing). Still frustratingly slow, though! My method is nice because a. I have a bunch of ancient stuff, like collections from AAS that just doesn’t exist anymore, and b. I find workable stuff that never would have occurred to me to seek out to include. For example, I had a whole bunch of JA steampunk outfits in my downloads folder. Most of them got cut, of course, but several puffy sleeved white shirts for male and female sims will work great for casual and piratey 18th century sims. Like so:

On the other hand, I have a ton of decorative crap I don’t know whether I will be able to identify sufficiently to remove! On the other other hand, currently loading is nice and quick. Well, it is what it is. I have been adding freshly downloaded CC in small chunks, removing CC using a combination of screenshotting tooltips and using DDO to locate and remove unwanted stuff, and it’s inching along.

I am really glad I decided to used Castaway Stories natives, as that goes beautifully with the piratey stuff in this 18th century set, which I can use in the future.

And it has also come to my attention that as sparse as 18th century CC is, the sims that suffer the most from a lack of content so far are Male Children. If I participated in the community like at all, I would politely beg for child and probably toddler conversions of nice simple Heget clothing. And some all-ages all-gender separate breeches to go with my puffy shirts.

And I’ve been distracted from that by a. Minecraft, where my project of digging out a massive cave uncovering cool stuff in a seed with three ancient cities and a stronghold uncovered another massive cave I needed to climb to the top of and incorporate, and it’s 20 blocks down before that is done and then 20 more blocks down before my whole cave even touches the stronghold, b. Civ 6 which I really wasn’t expecting, and now I feel like I should clear out some achievements or something, and c. Dwarf fortress, where I was kinda waiting for the steam release but I got too excited and I am very rusty. I had a couple of starting crashes, then a world where all the cool start locations were near a necromancer tower so every time I started a new fort, in a few months there would be an undead siege I wasn’t ready for. First fort, I just didn’t realize; second fort actually it was crocodiles that kept popping out of the river and murdering my dwarves; third fort I thought I was doing better but didn’t hook up my protective drawbridge in time and got wiped out by the undead. Eventually I rolled a new world and it has gone okay so far, I used what I learned to make sure I didn’t start near evil, and also dug a quick starter fort in the first layer of sand and dirt before making my fancy entrance—another trap I often fall into! we’ll see if it’s survivable.

I also am getting a bit distracted by Grounded, but I can probably wait until the update comes out on that so I can have mushroom stairs for the castle I’ll eventually build. (I started a new game when it was released, and the stalled because I wanted to build a great treehouse before venturing into the hedge lab. Forgetting that my last great treehouse was built during pandemic lockdown when I had so much extra free time to go crazy building…)

It’s fun to ramble into the void about my current projects, it’s like talking to myself out loud and it helps me feel organized even when I’m not!

[dailyadventureprompts]

Drafting The Adventure: Hitting a Wall

I know the signs before I really start to feel them, I start trawling through my notes looking for validation, I find it hard to concentrate on anything even if it’s pure entertainment, my thoughts become slippery and recursive as I think through the same few phrases or sensations on loop.

By the time I realize that I’ve hit a creative block I’ve usually been spinning my wheels for two or three days, letting everything else in life distract me from the fact that I haven’t put words on the page or made progress on one of my current projects. Then I feel guilty for not being productive and angrily stare at a blank page for the remainder of my freetime slowly making myself worse, and still getting nothing done.

It’s a cycle that I’ve been fighting for years, and one of the predominant sources of despair in my early life once my brain had associated creative accomplishment with self worth. I now know mostly that I’m not any better or worse a person because of my rate of output, but that doesn’t change the fact that I really LIKE the feeling of being creative and clever and creative blocks stand in the way of that feeling.

Lets use my most recent block as an example: I wanted to write a player home type adventure prompt where after doing a solid for the local nobility the heroes are suddenly bestowed with a knighthood and a keep overlooking the town they’d been adventuring out of. I found a really solid piece of art that captured the mood I wanted for the prompt ( sometimes the hardest part of running this blog) but when it came to actually detailing ideas for what the castle was like my brain just sort of... stopped. Sure I had a couple of ideas but they didn’t really form into anything actionable, and those concepts that managed to make it into the page were long, rambling, and frankly uninteresting.

I’d hit a wall, and it wasn’t until I was honest with myself that I had an actual problem that I could start doing something about it. Lets look at some of my solutions:

Back to the Drawing Board: While I’ve now spent several years attempting to surmount my creative blocks, it’s only recently that I’ve come to realize that blocks occur not because I’ve just run out of creative juice/have gotten stupider/angered my muse, but because I’ve committed to a flawed idea and I need to back up and plot a new way to act on my inspiration.  if I’m having problems finishing a sentence, I go back to the start of the paragraph, if I’m having trouble with a paragraph I go back to the start of the whole document, If I’m having trouble with the idea, I go back to what made me think that Idea was going to be fun in the first place.

Recognize the learning opportunity when it hits you in the face: No one is born inherently creative, it’s a process of refining your skills over time so when you encounter challenges in the future, you’ve already developed the tools needed to overcome them. Each problem then becomes an opportunity to improve, until you can gladly flaunt the things that would have stopped a younger version of yourself dead in their tracks. In this instance, figuring out how my creative blocks affect my brain will not only let me avoid them in the future, but get past them when I inevitably make a misstep.

Give your brain something else to chew on: I was already half way through thinking “maybe I should analyze why I run into walls and how I get out of them so I can implement that strategy on a wider scale” when I realized I was drafting this post in my head. Making it has not only helped me formalize a few strategies I’m going to use going further, but given me enough distance from the project that was stonewalling me that I can begin to rethink it, rather than try to “solve” what I’d already put down.

Why isn’t this working?: I’ve asked myself this question many times when I feel like I’ve run into a creative dead end, but it wasn’t until this most recent hurdle that I realized I’d never defined what “working” meant. comparing this prompt against several others that HAD worked made me realize that when I’d given the party a place to stay, I’d always paired that with a significant quest that came before/after, which I neglected to do for this particular prompt because it was already intended as a followup.  Using the fort as a launching point for a new story is going to give me all the inspiration I need.

[fayesrossua]

FAYE ROSS IS NOW ARCHIVED

I began this blog in January 2021-April 2021 and it carried me through a dark, stressful transition period of my life. It felt good to just write stupid shit about shows I liked and get in touch with a more creative side of myself.

I haven’t posted in well over a year but I still check in periodically. If you love AOT, and are coming back to the random or are new to the fandom, I hope you like the little things I’ve written in honour of the show.

I’ve been YEARNING to make another AOT smut fic but writers block has lasted me a few years at this point :’)

Enjoy!

MASTERLIST BELOW: 

NSFW FICS (MINORS DNI)

Jean K: Tear You Apart

Porco G: Homework Help

Reiner B: Car Camp-out

Jean K: Tired Virgins

Porco G: Make Me

Jean K: Prom King pt2

Reiner B: For Me, Please

FICS:

Reiner B: Comfort

Jean K: Prom King

Reiner B: First Kiss

Levi A: Lavender Oil

Levi A: Down Memory Lane

HEADCANONS:

CO-VID 19

first date

picking nail colour

shower routine

coffee order

wisdom teeth

picking lingerie(slightly NSFW)

favourite Disney movie

Catcall

Parts of the cell

How they sleep

How they kiss you!! (NSFW)

Favourite fruit

NSFW Jean K headcanons (MDNI)

If they were heavily tattooed

[cower-before-power]

Naked Attraction

Summary: A typical day in your art class turn into anything but when you’re introduced to your nude model for the week- a devastatingly gorgeous man named Levi.

Pairing: Modern AU Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

TW: Nudity, swearing, suggestive content, age gap (reader is 20, Levi is 30), dick jokes, reader is thirsty and lewds Levi hard, perhaps poorly written stuff about art and drawing because I literally know nothing haha

(minors please do not interact, just to be safe)

Link to A03 here

A/N: Hello all! This is my entry for @ghost-party’s Meet Cute Collab with my darling husband Levi. I’ve never written for him before so I was a little nervous haha, I hope I did him justice! Thank you to everyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs- you are all wonderful and I appreciate your support! I hope you enjoy, my sweet potatoes!

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

“Morning,” Jean greets you with a crooked smile and a steaming cup of coffee. It’s the good stuff from the café by his apartment, your favourite thing to help your brain shift into creative mode. “You’re later than usual.”

You grab the cup from him, sighing as you feel the warmth bleed into your hands. “Overslept. Barely had time to get dressed and brush my teeth.”

Jean’s eyes rove over you as you sink into your chair, humming to yourself as you sip on your drink. “I can see. Do you know you’re wearing two different shoes? And I think your sweater is on inside out. Why do you still even have that ugly thing anyways?”

“Thank you for your comments,” you roll your eyes. “I know I look like a hot mess and I don’t need any words from you, Mr. I Asked The Nude Model Out And Got Shot Down.”

Jean’s ears turn red, and he shoots you a dirty look before busying himself with arranging his pencils. “Shut up.”

You snicker to yourself as you set up your own area. Last week’s model had been a soft, pretty brunette that had instantly made Jean all starry-eyed, like a teenage boy with his first crush. It was generally considered a bit taboo to ask out the nude models, but he’d thrown that aside and gone for the kill after she’d slid back into her clothes. She’d laughed and patted his cheek like he was a naughty child asking for candy before dinner. Then proceeded to walk out and climb onto the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle (but not before making out with said boyfriend for a good 5 minutes, minimum).

Jean had been left with red cheeks and no date, and you’d been left with great blackmail material.

“I wonder who will be our victim today,” you decide to take mercy on your poor friend and change the subject. “Most likely a guy, since we had a woman last week.”

“We’ll know in about 5 minutes,” Jean looks up at the clock on the wall. “Old Cueball is never late.”

Sure enough, in exactly 5 minutes your very bald and very punctual professor casually strolls through the door. A short man in a green coat is following him, presumably your newest subject. You crane your neck, trying to get a better look at his face, but all you can see is dark hair falling like a curtain over pale skin.

“Good morning class,” Professor Pyxis greets you, tossing his briefcase down on his desk with his usual nonchalant air. “I see you are all ready, so let’s get right to it.” He gestures to the person beside him. “This is Mr. Levi Ackerman. He’s your model for the week.”

The class murmurs in curiosity as the mentioned Levi Ackerman turns to face the room.

You swear your heart actually skips a beat.

Steel gray eyes observe the room from a face that practically begs to be immortalized through art. Every line is hard and strong, covered in clear skin that looks like it would slide under your fingers like the smoothest silk. Your eyes drink in his features greedily, from the regal bridge of his nose to the proud edge of his jaw. You decide your favorite thing though, is his cheeks. They are utterly cherubic, round and full and dusted ever so lightly with the lightest shade of pink.

He’s possibly the prettiest man you have ever seen.

“Hey, I know him,” Jean whispers, cutting off your entranced thoughts. “That’s Mikasa’s distant cousin, the one I told you she found on Ancestry.com last year. I’ve met him once, he’s got a stick so far up his butt, he’d need surgery to remove it. Never would have pegged him for the type to do this sort of thing.”

You vaguely remember a previous conversation involving Jean’s childhood friend and some long lost relatives.

“He doesn’t look that uptight,” you muse, too busy admiring the way his lips glint temptingly under the fluorescents to really process Jean’s words. “He’s beautiful, like something out of a Renaissance painting.”

Jean opens his mouth to reply, but Pyxis begins to speak.

“As usual, draw whichever side of him is facing you, all angles will be graded equally,” your professor plops himself down in his chair, already scrolling through his phone to find the playlist for the day. “Completed drawings to be submitted to me by the end of class on Friday. Please remember be respectful and courteous to our guest. Mr. Ackerman, whenever you’re ready.”

The man nods to your professor, already slipping out of his coat as he steps up onto the platform in the center of the room. You watch, mesmerized, as he proceeds to shed himself of his clothes. It’s rigid and methodical (he folds his clothes like he’s worked his whole life in a department store), but somehow oddly endearing. Every inch of his body that is revealed is consumed eagerly by your shameless stare, and you sincerely hope you don’t start drooling. By the time he carefully removes his final items, you feel like you are vibrating in your seat.

Holy fucking shit, he’s built like a god. Like Michelangelo himself carved him out of a block of the most pristine marble. You trace your gaze down the column of his throat, over the strong shoulders and sinewy arms, the impressive set of abs, the thighs that look like they could crush your head and you’d be nothing but happy about it. It takes a minute before you’re able to make yourself look between his thighs, and when you finally do, you have to looks away immediately. Good grief, even that is stupidly handsome. You can’t help but wonder if it would feel as nice as it looks.

Your face heats from your lewd thoughts, and you grip your pencil so hard it almost snaps. Beside you, Jean snickers.

“You okay over there? It looks like you’re about to explode.”

“Can it,” you hiss, glad that the ambient music Pyxis chose will probably keep your conversation private. “I can’t help it that I’m looking at the most gorgeous dick attached to the most gorgeous man I think I’ve ever seen.”

“You haven’t seen mine.”

“I don’t own a microscope.”

“Ooooh, see if I buy you coffee tomorrow, bitch.”

You stick your tongue out at him before turning back to your easel. As you move, you catch the gaze of Levi, his expression unreadable. Warmth creeps up the back of you neck, and you duck behind your sketchpad in embarrassment. You seriously hope he didn’t hear you, he’d probably report you to Pyxis for being creepy. You decide to lock all your stupid horny thoughts deep within the recesses of your mind, and take a few deep breaths to clear your head.

It works, and as you touch pencil to paper, the desire to create overflows inside of you.

Unsurprisingly, you become utterly engrossed in your work, your pencil sweeping over the pad with almost a mind of it’s own. Levi is the perfect model; you swear he’s not even breathing as he majestically hold his pose without even a quiver. The contours of his body spring to life on the page, and you can’t stop the joyful smile that blooms on your lips as you work. It’s times like these, when everything is so perfect, that you truly realize just how much you love making art.

Before you know it, Pyxis announces class is over, and you’ll resume with Levi tomorrow. The man of the hour begins to re-dress as your fellow classmates pack up their supplies and file out. You absent mindedly wave to Jean, who is practically sprinting out the door so he can make his next class all the way across campus. You’re still engrossed in your drawing, staring at it with critical eyes. It good, one of the best starts you’ve had all year, but now that the high of creating has worn off, you can see where you need to improve.

“You’re very good.”

You gasp and jump, whirling around to find Levi standing behind you, eyes fixed on your sketch. How did he even get there? You hadn’t seen him or heard him.

“Oh, uh, Mr Ackerman!” You squeak, your heart racing like you’ve just run a marathon.  “T-that’s very nice, I mean, thank- thank you very much!”

“It’s Levi,” your muse says, seemingly unbothered by your stammering. “Yours is going to be the best one here.”

You blink stupidly at his bold statement. “Did you look at all of them?”

“No,” Levi’s voice is firm, a tone that brokers no argument. “But you had the most joy on your face while you worked. That much passion doesn’t churn out stuff that looks like shit.”

“Oh, that’s only because you are such a great model,” you gush, insides turning warm at his praise. “You stayed so still and you looked so damn regal and you’re just so pretty and-” Your eyes go wide as you realize the absolute words vomit leaving your mouth, mortification slithering up your spine.

“I’m pretty?” Levi raises an eyebrow. “You think I’m pretty?”

“No!” You shout, and the man’s other eyebrow joins the first. “No wait, yes! I mean, fuck, I mean you are probably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen!”

Levi’s eyebrows have now practically become one with his hairline. You wring your hands, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow you. “I-well- come on, people must tell you how good looking you are! I can’t be the first.”

“No, but you certainly are the most enthusiastic about it,” Levi deadpans.

Oh, someone just put you out of your misery now.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, cringing internally at your complete ineptitude to hold a conversation with an attractive man. “I....get carried away sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Levi’s stoic expression softens just a little. “It’s kind of nice to hear, actually. Usually I’m told I’m good looking, but ‘far too short’.”

“That’s bullshit.” you say vehemently, honestly shocked people would deny this man his godhood over something as trivial as height. “Who cares if you’re shorter? It doesn’t detract from you. What’s that phrase again? Good things come in small packages? Well, not that you’re small, I’m not saying that, I just meant-”

“Yes, you did seem to find my package....good,” Levi interrupts, and you swear you see the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as your brain replays your hushed conversation with Jean. “You heard that?!”

“I’m told I have exceptionally good hearing.”

“Oh fuck me,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “I am literally so, so, sorry. That was completely out of line. I have no excuse other than it’s clearly been too long since I’ve gotten some, but that’s no reason to make you uncomfortable. Please, if there’s anything I can do to to make it up to you, I’ll do it!”

“Have tea with me.””

Your head shoots up, surprise coloring your features. “What?”

“Tch, you heard me,” Levi tuts, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone. “I haven’t got free time till Saturday-stupid Shitty Glasses wanting to trade shifts-but if you want to go out, give me your number and we can work out the details.”

You stare at him with your mouth open, unsure if this is really happening or you’re vividly daydreaming again.

“Umm, are you sure?” You ask, wondering if you should pinch yourself to see if you are indeed imagining things. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m wearing two different shoes and my sweater is inside out. Believe me when I say these sorts of fashion statements happen more often than not. Plus, I practically salivated over you like some sort of horny middle aged suburban housewife who hasn’t been laid in years.” You pause to take a breath, once again unable to stop the words from spewing forth like a fountain. “And I’m so awkward! I mean, are you comfortable in this conversation? And I can’t stop talking once I’ve gotten going, and I say the weirdest shit, and, and-”

“I like you,” he says simply, as if he’s just declared something as obvious as 1+1=2. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about all the stuff you just said, you’re just... you, and I like it. So, do you want to go on a date or not?”

“O-oh,” you suddenly feel shy, your tummy filling with butterflies at the look of sincerity on his handsome face. You’d never met anyone quite like Levi Ackerman before, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to get to know the man behind the drool-worthy muscles.  “Uh, yes, please, I would like that. Very much.”

An almost relieved expression crosses Levi’s face, and he hands you his phone to type in your number. You notice the time as you do so, and sigh sadly as you hand him his device back.

“Well I better go,” you say reluctantly, suddenly fervently wishing it was Saturday already. “I’ve got another class in 15 minutes.”

“I’ll walk you there,” Levi says briskly, slipping his phone back into his coat. “To make sure you get there safely. Someone might murder you on account of their eyes being assaulted by that garish sweater. ” The corners of his lips twitch upwards once again, and you grow warm all over, from both his gentle teasing and the knowledge he isn’t quite ready to say goodbye yet either.

“Excuse me, I thought you said you didn’t give a ‘flying fuck’ about my attire,” you huff, but you’re grinning as you quickly pack up your bag.

“I don’t care it’s inside out, but you have to know that is the ugliest fucking color know to man,” Levi says, holding out his hand. Your brain malfunctions slightly for a moment, until you realize he’s offering to carry your bag for you. The butterflies inside you whip themselves into a frenzy as you pass him your stuff, your hand just grazing over his. Handsome, funny, honest, and sweet? How is this guy even real?

“I’ll have you know, this sweater is an absolute delight. When it’s inside right,” you stick up your nose, but unable to stop he laugh that slips past your lips.

Levi rolls his eyes in an almost playful manner. “Doubtful .”

You’re not sure where it comes from, but a sudden rush of confidence fills you. “If you’re so offended by it, maybe you should just rip it off of me.”

The tips of Levi’s ears turn a delightful shade of pink. You’re sure your own skin is hot enough to cook an egg on.

“Wear it Saturday then,” Levi’s ears may be flushed, but his eyes flash with something that makes your spine tingle. The insinuation of his words has your gut clenching and your mind whispering fervent prayers to please please please make Saturday get here faster, I don’t ask for much, please!

“Only if you wear your modeling outfit,” you manage to say, trying your best to sound coy when you feel like you might combust into a pile of lust and giddiness. “I’ve never seen someone wear it so well, and I want a closer look.”

If possible, Levi’s eyes grow even darker, and you just know Saturday is going to be one of the best damn days of your entire life.

“Deal.”

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

Taglist: @clovertitan @millenialfanfictionaddiction @stigandr-the-cat @axoxtxhxh @bowandcurtsey​ @chaotic-nick​ @manjiroarchiviste​

[kythed]

“teenage wasteland.” kuroo tetsurou x reader

4:08pm.

“yo,” kuroo says, opening the door quickly after you ring the bell, “you finally made it.” 

“what do you mean, finally?” you complain, kicking off your shoes and slipping inside. the dry heat of his family home’s living room assaults your bare face, a sharp contrast to the december frigidity outside. “you texted me like ten minutes ago.”

“felt like longer,” kuroo says with a crooked grin. “you want something to drink?” 

“water?”

“I kinda meant something stronger, but sure, water,” kuroo says, filling a glass at the kitchen sink. you furrow your brows.

“something stronger? I’m sorry, but last time I checked we were still underage,” you say, and kuroo laughs breathily — it’s almost a giggle, actually. for the first time since arriving, you notice an odd flush in his cheeks. “oh my god. are you drunk?”

“drunk?” kuroo gasps. “no, no. tipsy, yes. drunk, no.” 

“tetsurou,” you scold, reluctantly letting him pull you towards the hallway. “all those big, bad college boys can’t have been a very good influence on you.”

“I’ve had a stash of jack daniels hidden beneath my bed since sophomore year,” kuroo whispers conspiratorially. “those ‘big, bad college boys’ have nothing to do with it. speaking of which — you want some?” 

you shake your head vehemently and dig your heels into the carpet, realizing he’s trying to drag you into his bedroom. despite being kuroo tetsurou’s official best friend of a decade, you’ve never been inside his room before. you’ve never been inside any boy’s room before, actually — you’ve never been much of a rule breaker. 

(you suppose that’s why you and kuroo get along. you’re forever the straight-laced goody goody, and he’s forever the secretly bad, outwardly good honor roll kid.)

“I don’t drink,” you insist, and kuroo loops his arms around your neck. you stiffen. “and stop being so touchy. it’s freaking me out.”

“what?” kuroo says, feigning offense. “you don’t like my hugs?” 

“no!” you say, and he shoots you an exaggerated eye roll. “you’re being weird. I can probably count the number of times you’ve voluntarily hugged me on one hand.” 

kuroo ignores you, choosing to instead pick you up and toss you over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. 

“kuroo tetsurou, you’d better quit it before I call your mother!” you pound on his back, a little taken aback to feel his shoulder muscles rippling under your palms as he staunchly marches you into his room. “I do not want to enter your disgusting cave of a room, you teenage garbage troll!”

“getting real creative with the insults there,” kuroo laughs, setting you down and backing up against the door to block you from running out. “come onnnnn. I thought we could play a game of monopoly or something. listen to the radio. finish the bottle before my mom comes home and whips my hide.”

you sigh and perch your hands on your hips. “so that’s why you invited me over.”

“no, no,” kuroo protests, crouching to pull a clear bottle of amber colored liquid out from beneath his bed. “I also just vastly enjoy your company.”

“why not just throw it out?” you ask, gingerly sitting on the edge of the bed. 

kuroo’s room is a lot neater than you imagined it would be — navy bedspread tightly tucked in at the corners, vinyl floor completely clear save for a small rug. his desk is probably the messiest part of the entire room, holding an old, chunky desktop that’s covered in post-its with smudged, scribbled notes, ranging from “email prof. miyazawa about missing grade” to “buy mom flowers to apologize for broken mug.” 

there are a couple posters on the wall, too, one for the japanese national volleyball team, and one for some punk-looking band dressed in an overabundance of leather, ripped denim, and hair feathers. 

“this shit was expensive,” kuroo says, gesturing to the bottle before screwing the cap off and taking a long draught. your eyes widen as he drinks down a quarter of the remaining liquid, his adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. “I can’t let it go to waste.”

“I think you’ve probably had enough of that,” you say, gently twisting it from his hands. kuroo smiles angelically before coming to tower over you. 

“if you’re not gonna drink it, I will,” he says, reaching out to grasp the bottle’s neck. you hold onto it stubbornly.

“you’re clearly wasted, tetsu,” you say. “just let me throw it away.” 

“I may have a small drinking problem,” kuroo says, “but I’m sober enough to know I’m not about to throw away the fifty bucks I spent on that. give it.” 

“no!” 

“yes.”

“nooooo!”

“yes!” 

kuroo tries to wrench the bottle from you, and you spend a solid thirty seconds wiggling in his grasp before finally pulling it away. in an impulsive attempt to keep kuroo from getting even drunker, you bring the rim of the bottle to your lips and chug the rest of the whiskey.

kuroo’s eyes widen, and he guffaws loudly. “that was a lot of alcohol just now.”

you nod, wincing at the acrid taste, unwilling to swallow — the liquid is still swishing in your cheeks. you move to go spit it out in kuroo’s sink, but he grabs your arm.

“do not spit that out,” he warns. “that’s over two hours’ worth of minimum wage salary. I don’t work twenty hours a week in the wendy’s drive-thru just for you to flush it down the drain.” 

“mmmm,” you protest, breathing through your nose. “hrghhhh mmm mm mhm.”

“I have no idea what you’re trying to say,” kuroo says, obviously trying to stifle his laughter. 

you gesture wildly to your face, and then to the empty bottle, and then back to your face. 

for a moment, kuroo wrinkles his nose, and then slowly smoothes out his expression. a small smile stretches across his lips, and he steps close to you. you’re acutely aware of your personal bubble being popped, as well of the fact that he smells strongly of old spice and mango body wash. 

“I’ll do it then.”

“mm?” you squeak in confusion when he takes your chin in one hand and guides your face close to his. you’re not sure if you’re smelling the alcohol on his breath or tasting it on our own tongue. you’ve never been this physically close to your best friend in your life, and you can firmly say you’re absolutely petrified. you shake your head vehemently as he slowly leans down, tilting his head. 

“calm down,” he says quietly, and in spite of yourself, you do. “I’m just taking a drink.” 

then he presses his mouth to yours, and you freeze. oh, shit. 

kuroo wedges his tongue between your lips, forcing them open, and then he sucks the whiskey from your mouth, one hand keeping your jaw open while the other snakes around your waist. your eyes widen just as his close, almost as if he’s enjoying the kiss. slowly, you close yours too, letting yourself melt into him as he keeps kissing you even after swallowing the liquid. 

it lasts for a good ten seconds before you reluctantly pull away, letting your hands rest on his shoulders. he’s smiling, evidently very pleased with himself. 

“what the hell was that?” you say breathlessly, searching his face. 

“I was thirsty,” kuroo says nonchalantly. “and a little drunk. and you’re very pretty, as far as best friends go.” 

you feel like you should be offended, yet you can’t quite bring yourself to be. you’re definitely flustered, though, and a little embarrassed. (okay, a lot embarrassed.)

“I think, um, I think I should go,” you say, breaking eye contact. kuroo raises a hand to stop you, but you brush him off, bounding out of the room to grab your bag and keys from the kitchen counter. “we can talk about this later, okay? you need to go take a nap or something.”

“no, hey, wait —”

but you’re already out the door and in the car, jamming the key into ignition. you just kissed your best friend. or did you? does that count as a kiss? or was that just kuroo being stupid? your mind spins with useless speculations on the drive home, and as you sprawl out on your bed for an hour afterwards. it’s not until later that evening that you check your phone, greeted by a handful of social media notifications… and a text from kuroo.

with shaking hands, you swipe it open, face immediately splitting into a grin.

kuroo: sorry about that

kuroo: ok, not really

kuroo: I’m not that sorry

kuroo: cuz you’re a good kisser

kuroo: a really good kisser

you: you too

you wait for a moment as the three little dots on kuroo’s side pop up.

kuroo: thanks

kuroo: I was still kind of stupid tho

kuroo: my b

you: you regret it?

your fingers shake in suspense as you await his answer, feeling all the world like a lovestruck fifteen year old. you’re a little disgusted to find yourself suddenly crushing on kuroo tetsurou of all people, but what can you say? maybe falling for your best friend is a little cliche. maybe it’s a little overdone. maybe the fact that you kissed him with a mouthful of whiskey belongs in a cheesy teen movie, but you can’t help but find yourself delighted that it happened. 

kuroo: nope. not at all.

kuroo: not at all.