#it just sounds like people describing daydreaming and fantasizing

[fahbee]

So, "reality shifting" is just extreme daydreaming?

[drchenquill]

Writerly Questionnaire~

Thank you @sableglass , @the-golden-comet , @paeliae-occasionally , @leahnardo-da-veggie and @the-letterbox-archives for the tag!

About Me

When did you first start writing?

Only two years ago. I used to only fantasized about scenarios, dream stories, never feeling confident enough to put it to paper, but then I did and I fell in love with it.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

Absolutely not! Romance and fantasy, those are my go to genres in reading and writing. I'm also okay with adventure, but romance has to be part of it. What can I do, I love romance~

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

Not that I'm aware of. If yes, not on purpose.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

Everywhere. I don't really have a writing space, just a little corner with my laptop, because I can literally write anywhere. Sometimes I get a sudden urge to write something down, so I grab my phone, fight autocorrect (I write in German, but my phone's keyboard is also in English, so sometimes it thinks I'm writing in English and messes everything up), and write it down.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Listening to music. Everything works better with music. I come up with scenes, or even develop an OCs character through a song that I connect with them. It really helps.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

I don't think so…to be honest, I like to be very vague about the places my stories take place because I don't want people to recognize things. Wait, let me explain! When I read a story where the place isn't described in detail, it makes it easier for me to immerse myself. Sounds weird, I know, but I feel restricted if you describe every nook and cranny, and that's why I give very vague descriptions.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

As established before, I'm a huge romance fan, so I have a lot of recurring romantic themes. And no, they do not surprise me at all, because they are very much welcome~

My Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

Oooof, okay. I love all my OCs, but if I had to choose between the ones I'm writing right now, it would have to be Daisy. She's from my WIP "Daisy" and is the sweetest, softest, purest OC I've ever written. She is a joy to write because my other OCs are either very traumatized (Leon) or the worst human being to walk the earth (Azul). Daisy is like a breath of fresh air, a break from strong, witty characters.

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

Without a doubt, Sophie from "Memories of the Future". She would be a joy to be around. She's extremely extroverted and I'm painfully introverted. She would do all the talking and social interactions, but would never leave me behind. She is friendly and easy to get along with. I describe her as a "Sonnenkind". Literally translated "a child of the sun". It means she has a sunny disposition.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

Azul. To put it in simple words: he is a bitch and will most probably make me cry.

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

It's a pretty simple process. There's not a lot of thinking behind it. They are the most natural thing that comes to me (easier than the plot hehe). The only one I really put a lot of effort into is Azul. I created him while I was playing a game (The Arcana: A Mystic Romance), but developed him outside of it after I finished the game. He was never meant to be what he is now (an asshole) because when he came to life, I didn't even think about writing at all. For some reason he stayed with me and I just used him whenever I daydreamed or made little scenes in my head while listening to music.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

Oh yes, yes I do. Tall, scary but actually soft. Witty, never seems to be serious, but is the most serious when necessary. Petite but headstrong… I could go on and on.

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.)

I'm very particular about what my characters look like. I have Pinterest boards for some of them filled with faces that could potentially look like them, but I mostly go for real people.

My Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

Because I like doing it~ It's as simple as that!

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

I love any kind of comment, but I love it when a reader agrees or even disagrees with a choice a character has made, because that means they are invested in the story, that means they are experiencing the story.

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

Nothing much, to be honest. Just as a girl that writes compelling stories~

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I think the romantic aspect is what comes out the best. I like writing it a lot, so maybe that's why I feel like it's a strenght.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

I've been told that I write good plots, that my ideas are interesting.

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

I really like it. I like how it grew, how it developed through these two years and I like how it keeps developing.

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

Dark question, okay. I would be very lonely, but I would still write. I love writing, and I love reading what I write, so I would still do it until my last breath.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

I think it's a subconscious mix. I do write purely what I enjoy, but I think I get influenced without wanting to.

~~~~

Loved these questions! Tagging with no pressure @finickyfelix , @frostedlemonwriter , @leahnardo-da-veggie , @leitereads , @theink-stainedfolk and open tag

[topazadine]

"I've Outlined Too Much and Now I Can't Write!" (Or: the Double Outline Method for Overanxious Plotters)

I see this a lot. I do this a lot. So let's talk about outlining, and how you truly can have too much of a good thing.

In 2022, I tried to write your typical boilerplate samurai novel called Birds of Japan. Standard fare: bisexual daimyō in an arranged marriage with a retainer’s daughter who prefers getting off with his karō (second in command), but slowly comes to love his wife after she helps him defeat a rival lord. Sword fights, gay sex, beheadings, abductions, etc etc, who cares.

I could have made something interesting out of it, especially if I added way more gay sex, but I got 119 pages in and never finished.

Well, that page count is disingenuous. Only 67 of those pages were actual writing.

The rest? All outline.

That’s right. Fifty-seven pages of outline. And there was even more, because I deleted the outline as I went along.

Does this sound like you? Do you have dozens of pages of outline, worldbuilding, character reference sheets, and so on? Okay, good. You're my target audience here.

If you don't have this problem, then congratulations! You are a good and moral person who doesn't torment yourself with outlines. You have nothing to learn from me in this post. You're golden.

Now, back to my fellow overplanners. Why are our Game of Thrones-sized outlines a problem? They create a lack of motivation.

Excessive Outlining Tricks Your Brain

In my post about spreadsheet word counts, I discussed intrinsic motivation, which is when you create goals and compete with yourself in order to get more done. The issue is that you can ruin your intrinsic motivation by planning too much.

This is called mental rehearsal, which Dr. Dev Rowchowdhury, a performance psychologist, explains:

Mental rehearsal involves imagined, mental practice of performing a task as opposed to actual practice. That is, when engaging in mental rehearsal, one imagines performing without having to actually do anything. Using Mental Rehearsal to Boost Your Performance and Well-Being in Sport and Exercise

This is all well and good for athletes, who cannot be physically performing their chosen sport at all times. Sometimes, they need to think through their actions and envision themselves performing it as they should.

However, it goes out the window for us writers. Yes, we do need some form of mental rehearsal, which we then capture in an outline. But if we fantasize too much, we have made our brain believe we’ve already done it. Given that we don’t need kinesthetic memory but actual execution, over-outlining is deleterious for our craft.

At other times, overplanning might cause analysis paralysis. Jodi Clark, a Licensed Professional Counselor, describes it as thus:

Analysis paralysis refers to overthinking a problem to the point that it becomes more difficult to make a decision. It often happens when people are overwhelmed by their choices or have too much information to sort through before they make a choice.  What Is Analysis Paralysis? How Overthinking Affects Your Decision Making

In short, you are doing so much thinking and planning that when you need to do the real work, you can’t because you’re overwhelmed by how much you’ve already done.

I think it is a combination of these two factors that leads to the heartbreaking posts from new writers who have spent months, or even years, daydreaming about their characters and planning their book, but then find themselves completely unable to work. They have rehearsed everything so much that now they have no motivation to continue.

But I’m not telling you to completely give up on outlining.

Planning is good, but not good when you become so rigidly obsessed with your outline that you can’t feel creative: now you’re just following orders you gave yourself and providing no space for different execution.

So, as with everything, whether that is descriptive density or characterization, you need to come to balance. How are we going to do that?

Think Once, Outline Twice

Or just be a heron. They don't think or outline. If only we all had that option.

Anyway. For this method, you will have a long outline and a fast outline. The long outline is where you get out every single thing that you want to include in a given scene, chapter, etc. Anything that you know you may want to have happen, you put it here.

This double outline example is from my beloved fanfic, "Midsummer Nightmare," but I've used this same method while writing The Eirenic Verses.

The words here don’t really matter, so don’t strain your eyes. You just need to see that it’s pretty long, a page for one chapter. I’ve mentioned the conversations, the way that everyone acts, their specific movements that show their emotions, a few snippets of what I intend to write, etc. All very helpful: I can see exactly how the story is going to go.

However, if I work off this, I don’t really have much room for creative freedom. It will feel like I’m plugging in piece after piece, line after line. I may even find myself tempted to tell rather than show because I can no longer visualize things other than what I have already told myself.

When beta reading, I can tell who used long outlines; their sentences read as if they are ripped straight off their planning document. Do not do that. Unless you have written a specific phrase in quotes that you want to use, or a really good piece of dialogue, follow this adage:

What goes in your outline stays in your outline.

You’re not using any of that; it serves as a reminder of what you actually want to write. So, now that you have things set up for yourself (but not written), you want something faster that will not stymie your creative process.

Next, make a fast outline that has only the most relevant plot points.

Much better: only a quarter of a page. I don’t have the action beat for beat, so I know I have to make it up myself in the actual writing. None of this reads as something that would actually happen in the real text (at least, I hope not) because it’s so boring and straightforward.

There are no showing details, almost no dialogue, no real feel for how the scene plays out. Now I feel like I have to get it done myself.

But! And this is a big, voluptuous but.

You Still Have Your Long Outline as a Lifeline

Because this fast outline only covers the most general of plot points, you might not include things that you really wanted to add in there, specifically regarding tension, setting, and so on. Thankfully, you’ve got it right there for you in your long outline, which you can scurry back to if you don’t know what to do next.

Sometimes we set things aside for a while and come back utterly bewildered about what we were trying to do, which is where the longer outline comes in.

We can refamiliarize ourselves with what we wanted to do, then put the long outline aside and turn back to the fast outline. This way, we’re not being tricked into thinking we’ve already done all the work.

I have already finished drafting the 8th book in my series, Perseity, and outlined the 10th, Plexity, because I did the project completely out of order. Now I have now jumped allll the way back to the very second book and will be working my way forward again. To be quite honest, I’ve already forgotten half the stuff that happens in Perseity and have a very, very vague remembrance of Plexity.

But that’s okay! When I’m finally ready to work on Perseity and Plexity, I have my long outline right there. I’ll then cut it down, just as I did before, and I will have a good working knowledge of how I want to proceed.

Many times, the long outline works as a type of “background program” as you write. You have the details in your head, but you’re not staring at them while you work, meaning you’re not tempted to copy-paste them right into your document.

Okay … I hear you complaining right about now.

“But Topazadine, that’s so much extra work! Why not have only the short outline in the first place?”

If you can work off just a few lines from the jump (or are even, dare I say it, a pantser), then that's amazing and I wish you the best of luck. However, not everyone is like that.

I'm talking to the people who plot, and plot, and plot like their lives depend on it because they get anxious not knowing where the story is going to go. Or they just get so excited about figuring out all the plot points that they kinda forget about the writing part.

So sure, it is a bit extra work: removing lines from the long outline, deciding what is so essential that you need to have it available to you, and checking back in with the long outline if you really have to.

However, this way fights the pesky mental rehearsing while still allowing you to plan ahead. It is the way that you can get it done but still have your big long comfort-object outline.

Double Outlines Give You the Best of Both Worlds

You get to meticulously plan without overwhelming yourself. You have some of the freedom that pantsers enjoy, but you also get the comfort of outlining – without sacrificing motivation.

A lot of times, I do the long outline and then never look at it again; I’ve memorized most of what I want to do and can follow the short outline. However, because I don’t have my full plans right there to review, I don’t feel like I’ve already done the work: I know I need to actually write the real thing.

This method works well for those who get anxious about the idea of pantsing but struggle to retain their motivation once they’ve completed their outline. It’s also great for those who have spent a lot of time analyzing and daydreaming about their work, to the point where they don’t even feel they need to write it.

If you often find yourself paralyzed after planning, consider double outlining.

Double outlines are simple and effective. Though they may seem like they take much more work than just a short outline, it’s actually not that hard to distill your plans into a brief. In fact, many use a similar method for developing their synopsis before they start to write, allowing them the freedom to cut everything down before they try to query.

Of course, no tool works for everyone. If you try this and don’t like it, you have my blessing to never do it again. Everyone is different, which is why writing is such a wonderful craft!

Knowing that there are other strategies can be incredibly helpful if you’re new to writing and have no idea where to start. I’m always happy to share, and I hope you get some benefit from dipping your toe into double outlining.

And, since I have demonstrated my utility to you, perhaps you'll consider purchasing my debut novel?

9 Years Yearning is a coming-of-age gay romance set in a fantasy world with poetry magic. It follows two young men as they grow from sorta-enemies, to frenemies, to friends, and finally to lovers.

If you do read it, please don't forget to leave a review!

Reviews are essential to getting visibility on Amazon, so every single one is golden to me.

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Tag Game!

Rules: Post snippets from 3 WIPs and 3 published fics

Tagged By: @sungbeam

Tagging: Anyone who wants to do this!

WIP #1: My Last Night (Mark x Reader)

"Mark and I had many last nights, you'll have to be more specific," you said one day, coffee in your hands and phone laid screen-side down next to it.

"Well, tell me all of them," the woman in front of you replies.

"Mm..." you hummed and nodded your head. "Our first last night was when we were 13. The next one after that was when we were 18. Then when we were 20. And, finally, yesterday."

"And which one really mattered?"

"All of them mattered, of course," you nodded and took a sip of your coffee. He would always matter to you. Then, a check is slid toward you.

"A penny for your thoughts and a dime to keep them," the woman smiles. You took the check.

"It all started in front of that damn bus..." Your first last night, the night Mark chose to leave.

~

Published Fic #1: And That's Okay (Somi x Reader)

In truth, you had to admit it, you’d fallen hopelessly in love with this woman, and you prayed that she felt the same. Never had either of you two dare utter a single word that could have alluded to something more than your casual relationship, for you it was because you didn’t want to lose her, and for her, you think, it’s because she didn’t see you that way at all. Oh, how you want to ask, how you want to pick apart her thoughts and find out just what she really thinks of you and whether or not you have a chance. You think you love her, if love is the word that describes the way your heart beats when you see her face, if love is the word that describes the way you daydream and fantasize of a life together, and if love is the word that describes the way you yearn for her touch every day, then yes, you love her.

~

WIP #2: Lady Luck (Yangyang x Reader)

"Are they staring at me? I swear they're staring at me," Yangyang leans close to Jisung and whispers so that only he could hear.

"Oh, yeah, they're definitely staring."

"Bro, you couldn't at least try to make me feel a little less self-conscious?"

"I wouldn't set you up for failure like that," Jisung shook his head. "Besides, how could they not stare? Yangyang, you are dating one of the most eligible bachelorettes in the world, and you're just, respectfully, you," Jisung explains.

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

"Dude," Hendery returns with four glasses of champagne in his hand. "Your girlfriend? Miss 'didn't know what a convection oven was'? She's rich, dude, like, hella fucking rich," Hendery whispers. He looks around, making sure people aren't listening, and the three move to a more secluded corner.

"Listen, Yangyang. Jaemin offered her an entire company, Dejun told her he'd give up his whole career for her, Johnny almost died for her, and Yuta..." Jisung hesitates. "Yuta's a whole other ballpark. Either way, they have made or would have made huge sacrifices just to have that title of 'boyfriend' and here you come, out of nowhere. Did you know that you're the first person (Y/N) introduced as her boyfriend? All four of them had to work to even be considered for the title."

"Right, so basically I have four people out for my neck."

"Yup."

~

Published Fic #2: How to Keep a Promise (Yangyang x Reader)

“If both you and I happen to be in the market and nowhere close to committing to anyone, then let’s get married instead,” he says. Your ears perked at this, but your body prevented any shock that would’ve come out of a sober mind. So instead, you said the first thing that came to your thoughts.

“Sure,” you had a drunken smile on your face when you turned to him. Everything around him was blurry, but he was in full focus. Another effect of the alcohol, you assumed. You don’t even know how you drank so much, let alone how you were still somewhat conscious, but at this moment that wasn’t a prevalent thought of yours, no, all you could think about was how different his smile was today, as stupid as that sounded, you wondered if he ever smiled like that ever. He was smiling like he knew he’d lose, like he knew that he wouldn’t even remember what he just said the next day, or, perhaps worst of all, like he knew that even if he’d remember he knew that you wouldn’t.

“You’re not going to ask why?”

“Well, now that you bring it up I’m curious,” you tilted the empty glass bottle into your mouth.

“I just think it would be nice, you know?” He mumbles. “That and we could probably get some nifty financial aid for our loans.”

“You’re not wrong there,” you swallowed another laugh. It would be nice, wouldn’t it? To spend the rest of your life with a friend, one who knew you as well as you knew them, one who you could confide in and trust, it was romantic almost. But it was a kind of romantic you were unsure of, a kind of romantic that you didn’t know how it felt like. You were no stranger to love and relationships, but when it came to actually marrying someone that was a whole new playing field that you just didn’t feel qualified to have an input on for a multitude of reasons that would take thousands of words to explain. “Sure then, it sounds nice.”

~

WIP #3: Royal Flush (00 Line x Reader)

"So, father, what you're saying is that the future of this family lies in the hands of that cute little assistant of yours?" Jaemin's eyes slink over toward you, an unreadable look hidden in them.

"Hey, watch it," Yangyang seems to stand in front of you habitually.

"That's a bold move from someone who was manipulated by her," Haechan laughs.

"You'd do it too for a paycheck," you reasoned, peeking from behind Yangyang.

"It wasn't all fake," Yangyang defends.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait! First, dad, why did you think this was a good idea in the first place?" Jeno turns to their father. Their dad shrugs.

"Well, I certainly can't make the call," he throws his hands up. "I'm much too biased."

"And (Y/N) isn't biased toward Yangyang?" Shotaro asks nervously. Eyes land on you.

"No, I'm not, whatever relation we had was a well designed character thought up by myself to keep him in check," you answered. "Of all of you, at least, he was the only one we had to be careful with," you answered. You bowed your head slightly. "I promise to make the most unbiased decision using only logic and reasoning when choosing the next head of the family."

"Sure, right, anyway, why don't I treat you out, doll? You're going to be my future assistant anyway," Jaemin grins. You smiled back.

"Thanks, but no, you'll have to do much more than that to gain my favor," you tucked your pencil away and handed your binder to Johnny. "Well, it's 7 o'clock, I'm clocking out now, boss."

~

Published Fic #3: Midnight Coffee (NCT 127 & Reader)

“It’s delicious, what did you put in it?”

“Half a chocolate bar, a tablespoon of honey, and a half a cup of milk,” you answered.

“You should add this to your menu, I’ll definitely be getting this again,” Taeyong drinks more. “I wonder if I can make this in my own apartment.”

“If you did, surely, you’d put me out of business,” you cleaned out the spout of the coffee machine while he snickered.

“Whoa…” Mark laughs awkwardly. “Are you two flirting?”

“What? No, that’s highly unprofessional,” you corrected him gently and Mark’s face reddens.

“That’s a shame, I thought you were,” Taeyong teases. You just glanced over to him quickly and smiled.

“At least treat me to dinner first, Mr. Lee.”

“Oh, (Y/N) likes you likes you,” Mark has a ridiculous smile on his face and you just rolled your eyes, just in time for your phone to save you from this situation. The quick ping of a notification from your supplier sent your attention to that instead.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

You Read My Mind

This fic is part of @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone's "Aud's Writing Challenge" aka "The Make Me Horny Challenge". I hope I have achieved that goal, Audrey!! 😉

It will also cover two of my spaces on my bingo card for @anyfandomkinkbingo

Any Fandom Kink Squares Filled:

Only One Bed & Free Space (Cumming untouched.)

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,455

Summary: Y/N can't tell Dean how much she wants him, but maybe he'll hear her anyway.

Warnings: Smut. All Smut. PWP. (very little plot in the porn here!) The very tiniest dollops of fluff at the end. Dream sex, Cumming untouched, Lots of dirty talk, Multiple Orgasms, A Smidge of Dom!Dean, Fingering, P in V. Oral (f/m receiving)

A/N: Since I can't include the hot af gif that the beautiful Audrey sent me for this challenge, I have included a pic that relates slightly to this story, namely Dean Winchester's hands. (This pic came from Google and I think it's a promo shot, but I can't find the OP.)

But the part of the fic that directly describes the naughty gif Audrey sent will be in italics.

Rating: 18+ Explicit. Read the warnings!

Created for @anyfandomkinkbingo

She woke up on a moan. Her eyes shot open and she wasn't sure if the sound had only been in her head or if she'd actually uttered it out loud. Y/N didn't have to wait long to find out. From beside her came a deep voice, full of mischief.

"Good dream, Sweetheart?"

Y/N could feel her face flooding with color and blessed the middle-of-the-night darkness of the motel room.

"What do you mean?" she asked, voice squeaky and completely unconvincing.

She heard a low, rumbling chuckle and the sound stirred a swarm of butterflies in her lower belly.

"You were making very...satisfied noises."

"Oh, god!" Y/N whispered under her breath as she slapped both her hands to her face, covering her embarrassment.

Of course her most erotic dreams would come to her subconscious mind when she was lying right next to the star of them.

Maybe it's his scent, Y/N thought, invading my brain while I sleep. He was so close to her on the very small double bed they were sharing that his spicy, woodsy scent just took over her senses.

When they'd pulled into the motel, all of them exhausted from their latest hunt, all she'd wanted was a hot shower and any flat surface to sleep on. There was only one room available, so they took it.

One room. Two beds. Three people.

She turned her head and looked at Sam on the other bed. His insanely long limbs and tendency to sprawl out like a starfish, as he was currently doing, had made sleeping beside Dean seem like the better option.

Turns out it was the very stupid option. Y/N thought, mentally kicking herself.

She'd worked her first case with the Winchesters about three years before. The two brothers were both funny and sweet, and of course, incredible hunters. So, she'd been happy to work with them from time to time.

But they found that the three of them made a pretty great team, so by this point, they were working most cases together. Unfortunately more and more often of late, she found herself struggling any time she worked a case with them. Because over the last year, her attraction to the older Winchester had started to get out of hand.

In the beginning of their friendship she'd thought nothing of it. She was pretty sure there wasn't a person alive who didn't lust, at least a little bit, after Dean Winchester.

The man was sex on legs, with his swagger, his smile - both his happy, thousand watt smile and the roguish, sexy one that made it clear where his dirty mind was traveling. His hunter's body was strong and solid, his wide shoulders and muscular thighs just begging her to climb on and ride.

So, her initial attraction wasn't surprising, however, as her time with the Winchesters grew, so did her need for the green-eyed hunter. She was constantly daydreaming and fantasizing about him. It was wholly inconvenient.

Increasingly she caught herself thinking about his hands. Scratch that, increasingly she found herself staring at his hands. They were big and wide, his fingers blunt-tipped and thick. His knuckles were round and rough, and his palms were callused and spread fire whenever he touched her, however fleetingly.

She fantasized entirely too much about how his fingers would feel inside her, moving in and out of her body, pressing in all the right places to make her scream his name.

It was like a sickness. It was to the point now that his voice alone was often enough to soak her panties through.

A few weeks before, she'd dozed off in the bunker, sitting in the library with the boys. It was a fitful kind of sleep, the kind where you pull in pieces from the reality around you. Dean sat beside her, speaking quietly to Sam, his voice a rumble in her mind. She couldn't remember every detail of the dream that resulted, but she knew that his voice had featured heavily. His voice and a lot of dirty words.

She'd woken up startled that time too, when Dean leaned close to her, gently calling her name to wake her. She remembered fearing that she'd been moaning out loud then too, and being eternally grateful she hadn't, or at least it seemed to go unnoticed.

Now here she was again, only this time, there was no doubt that her subconscious thoughts and fantasies had manifested themselves in the real world in the form of moans and groans. Sounds that had Dean grinning beside her as she glanced at him from under her hands.

"Hey, sorry. I was just..."

"Dreaming about me." Dean said, his voice teasing.

"What? No!" she said, panicked. She lowered her voice, trying not to wake Sam across the room. She tried for a tone of sarcasm. "That sounds like your dreams, Winchester, not mine."

"Really?" He dipped his head down and pressed his lips against the shell of her ear. She couldn't suppress the flush across her skin, or the tremble his words brought. "Cause it's not often, in my dreams, that I call out, 'Dean, harder, faster..." His voice dropped even lower, ragged with heat. "...break me, Dean, break me."

His words made her shake, and brought back to her mind the events of this latest dream, and how Dean had her bent over the table of this very motel room, slamming into her so hard the table had been chipping the paint where it crashed against it.

Having absolutely no idea how to proceed she just laid there, quivering as Dean sidled up closer to her.

"Do you want me, Y/N?" Dean asked, his voice sliding into her ear, silky and hot. "If it's just a dream, I'll leave you alone. But if it's more...is it more?"

Y/N didn't know what to say, she wanted to shout out that yes, it was so much more than a dream, she wanted him real and hard and scorching beneath her hands.

But she was frozen. Fear of opening herself up in that way to him, being vulnerable and sharing her fantasies scared her. What if the intensity of her desire for him freaked him out and he bolted? She'd lose two of her closest friends and the only other hunters she'd ever completely trusted to have her back.

She turned to look at Dean. "I...don't...I mean...I want..." She wanted to smack herself and make her words come out properly.

Dean smiled softly at her. "Should I tell you what I dream about?"

Y/N nodded.

Dean leaned in and pressed his lips against her ear once again. "I dream about you, Y/N. I dream about you all the time. I dream of you sitting on my bed, waiting for me. Dressed in something lacy, tight, and easily ripped off of you. I dream of your mouth, your perfect lips wrapped around my cock."

Y/N whimpered and Dean continued, obviously encouraged.

"I dream of fucking that beautiful mouth, pushing so far down your throat I can feel you swallow. I dream of coating you in my cum, claiming you, making you mine."

Y/N could feel her slick leaking out of her and soaking the sheets beneath her. She squeezed her legs together, desperate for friction and movement.

"I dream of laying beside you, just like this. I dream of reaching between your heavenly thighs and finding you dripping for me. Are you dripping, Y/N?"

Y/N nodded, not caring what she was risking anymore. She was desperate for him, craving him like water in a desert.

Dean's voice was causing Y/N's core to flutter, his words making her cunt clench around nothing. She knew she was so close to flying away on wings of fire.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N? Do you want me to bury myself deep inside you? Do you want me to wreck you, break you?"

It was the words from her dream that sent Y/N over the edge. She would have woken Sam she was sure, if Dean hadn't clapped a hand to her mouth, stifling her shout of ecstasy. He kept it there as her muscles convulsed, and her body shook from her climax.

She had never come just from someone talking to her, not even laying a finger on her. She looked up into Dean's eyes and felt her skin start to heat up again, just from the look of hard desire she found there.

Without saying anything he grabbed her hand and pulled her off the bed with him. They went into the bathroom and Y/N blinked rapidly, the sudden light harsh in her eyes, even if it was only one yellow bulb lighting it up. He turned the shower on and Y/N wondered if planned on them getting in together. But he turned back to her and spoke quietly.

"Sam sleeps like the dead, but a little white noise is probably a good idea."

She nodded, still not speaking much. Dean reached for her t-shirt to pull it over her head but stopped. He looked at her, the tension in his body obvious in the prominent, corded muscles that stood out on his neck and heat that radiated off of him.

"Is this okay, Y/N? I mean we can stop if you want."

In answer Y/N pulled her own t-shirt off, loving the way Dean's pupils dilated, nearly obliterating the emerald green around it.

"I do want you, Dean. I want you to fuck me, I want you to break me."

With a low growl, Dean leaned down and yanked off her pajama shorts. She wore nothing beneath.

Dean kicked her feet apart before dropping to his knees in front of her. He grabbed hold of her hips, blunt fingernails denting into the fleshiness of her ass. He pulled her to his mouth and started to immediately suck on her clit, pulling the little nub into his mouth and flicking his tongue against it.

His mouth was liquid fire against her overly sensitive skin He licked his wide tongue through her soaking wet folds and she was suddenly thankful he had hold of her hips because her knees were buckling, her legs shaky and completely unreliable.

As she could feel herself cresting, she knew that two more swirls of his tongue would do it. So when he pulled away from her with a very indecent slurping sound, Y/N let out a cry of frustration.

Dean pulled her down to lay beside him on the tile floor. She shivered when her heated flesh pressed against the cold ceramic. Dean pulled her towards him, slightly on top of him so that his fully clothed body could act as a slight barrier to the chill of the floor.

He pulled her left leg over his hip, stretching her wide and giving him easy access to her cunt. His hand slid down over her stomach, coming to rest against the strip of groomed hair that covered her. With his pointer finger and ring finger he spread her open so that her clit was exposed. He brought his thick, hard middle finger down to tap against it, covering her mouth with his other hand as she cried out.

"Shh..." he whispered in her ear. "I'll have to stop if you can't be quiet." He tapped her clit again and her hips reared up, seeking more. "Do you want me to stop?"

Y/N shook her head vehemently. God if he stopped now, she'd just burn into a pile of ash.

"So, can you be quiet then?" Dean asked. Y/N nodded.

"Good girl." He said, his voice low and wicked as he removed his hand from her mouth.

He put his three fingers close together again and pressed them all tight against her cunt, making small circles, that increased in pressure with each rotation. She knew she was so close to her second orgasm, she just needed something a little more.

She got it when Dean slid his thick middle finger deep inside her and crooked it, immediately finding her g-spot and brushing over it while Y/N exploded. She clutched Dean's thick wrist, holding him in place and actually grabbed on to his other hand and covered her own mouth with it, not sure she could contain the sounds of her bliss.

She rode his hand as wave after wave of molten ecstasy poured over her. Just as she would start to come down, Dean would press his fingers to the spongy area deep inside her and a third and fourth orgasm hit her. He added another finger and she welcomed the fuller feeling.

As he pulled his fingers out of her he lifted her limp form up and pushed her over the side of the bathtub. She braced her hands against the bottom of the tub and bit down on her lip as he knelt on one knee behind her and lined himself up with her entrance.

"This is where I break you. Fall apart for me one more time, Sweetheart."

With that he rammed himself so deep inside her Y/N felt truly split in two, in the best possible way. He slipped his hand around her to palm her breast, pinching her nipple while he leaned over her and bit down on her shoulder.

The bite sent her over the edge again, and Dean rammed into her a dozen more times as she clenched around him. Finally with a shout of his own Dean exploded inside her, filling her so much, their mingled juices dripped out of her and down her legs.

Their breathing was ragged as Dean fell down beside her, leaning his back against the tub. He pulled Y/N with him so that she sat in his lap. He had only pulled down his pajama bottoms, so he was just readjusting them to cover his ass against the tile, when a pounding at the bathroom door made them both jump.

"For Christ's sake you two," Sam's voice carried loudly even over the rush of the water from the shower, "finish your friggin shower sex - it's about fuckin' time, by the way - cause some of us have to take a leak!"

Y/N buried her face in Dean's neck embarrassed, but not really bothered that Sam had caught them. Maybe the next time they'd have their own room and she could be as loud as she wanted.

Dean pulled her head out from under his chin and pressed a slow, sweet kiss against her lips.

"So, once Sam is done in here, we should definitely do the shower sex thing. And then tomorrow evening, we should go on a date. What do you think?"

Y/N beamed at him. "You read my mind."

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[keysmashingfantasies]

Bloody Comfort

pre borderlands!Niragi x fem!reader / Niragi x fem!reader

A/N:  i feel like i only post Marvel on this blog and i missed my show so here it is, finally an AiB fic! :D also, minigame: how many alice in wonderland references can you spot? also also, bloody comfort is an awesome name for a band and if you do name your band that, i want my money. enjoy the fic! also also also i didn’t proofread SHIT so sorry for any grammar mistakes.

trigger warning: bullying, mentions of violence (nothing too graphic, i think but beware nonetheless), death (graphic. i mean, i’m not that good of a writer but still, beware), very slight mentions of nsfw, especially torwards the end, niragi (HE’S A WARNING OK), niragi having disturbing thoughts (what else is new. but fr, ok), sliiiiiight yandere niragi torwards the end. (also I tried not to describe in too much detail the bullying that niragi and the reader suffer in the fic so it wouldn’t be too sad). 

@dreamingofanisland here it is bestie! 

Niragi couldn’t pinpoint when he stopped being sad and when he started getting angry. From a suffocating hopelessness came a desperation he could only describe as feral. He often fantasized about just jumping over his desk and strangling each one of them to death but his thoughts quickly ended with Niragi envisioning himself being overpowered and beaten. He started to not only get angry at his bullies, but people in general. Things. Life.

How could so many people turn a blind eye? How could life be so unfair to give people like this the upperhand and not him? Not him that clearly deserved it? This world was backwards.

-

He knew he was fucked when he saw the bat, and although he braced for the impact he couldn’t help but fall to his knees and wince at the sickening sound that the baseball did in contact with his nose.

He just sat there and while all he wanted to do was to rip their throats with his teeth all he did was to endure a few more punches before they left with a promise that there would be more. He sat there trying not to cry with sheer frustration. His papers were scattered around, the left arm of his glasses was broken and his pristine black outfit was now covered in dust from the gravel, his hands scratched. He could taste blood on his tongue and he felt a sick satisfaction, pretending for one moment that it was another person’s blood he was tasting.

“Do you need help?”, a voice woke him from his violent daydreams. Suddenly everything boiled over and he felt an overwhelming anger rise inside of him. In a blink of an eye he was standing up, yelling at a somewhat blurry image of a girl who he towered over, even more as she shrunk under his anger. If he wouldn’t be so busy screaming profanities, he would be madly aroused.

“WHAT, HUH? CAME TO SEE THE SHOW? TO LAUGH AT ME?”, he was furious, and as he approached her, she proceeded to walk back.

“No. I just wanted to help”, she said. It seemed another flash and suddenly he could see a bit clearer. Although startled, she didn’t seem afraid of him, and was extending him a tissue. “Your nose is bleeding”, she said, and Niragi wanted to scoff at her for stating the obvious. But she was being kind. And as angry as he was, kindness wasn’t something that he could say no to. He tried his best to control his shaky hands as he took the tissue from her hands and carefully dabbed his nose, as she ducked to collect his papers, and tuck them back into his bag.

“Saw what they did to you. ‘m sorry”, she mumbled. Niragi wanted to strangle her out of sheer embarrassment.

“And you just took some popcorn and enjoyed the spectacle?”, he spat.

“I wanted to help but I wasn’t sure what to do. Would you rather if I had called someone?”, she asked. He breathed once, twice. She wasn’t mocking him, but was unnervingly calm. Something about her being calm while he was practically foaming at the mouth had him seeing red and suddenly he regret having wiped the blood off of his lips.

“No”, he said, calmly. “No, I wouldn’t. Sorry. I have to go”, he said, ripping his bag from her hands with such force that he tugged her arm with it.

“Wait! I mean what I said! I want to help!”

“You, help me? What are you going to do, huh? Be my bodyguard?”, he mocked her one more time. He couldn’t help himself, his brain got used to this. Fight or flight. His adrenaline was pumping and everytime he was around school grounds he looked over his shoulder.

“Hmmm, sorta? Not exactly but I could show you a place. A safe place”, she said. He just looked at her.

“If we get there and it’s a prank of some sort I’ll let you punch me. Square in the face”, she said.

“Are you insane? You just go around letting people punch you in the face?”, his mouth was quicker than his brains and suddenly he felt his face grow hot at the irony of what he had said. But if she noticed it, she didn’t mention.

“Let me help you”, she said.

And he did.

He followed her through a wooded area near the school grounds after walking through a hole in a fence.

He was getting ready to beat you to the punch and hit you so hard that you’d bleed as hard as he did, until you stopped until you reached a very underwhelming toolshed with a padlock.

“We’re here”, you said, and he realized that she sounded different. All this time she was on edge. ‘Of course, Suguru, you threatened the girl like, 3 times’, said the voice in the back of his head. She pulled a key from her bag and the padlock opened easily and they heavy chains fell to the ground and she pushed open the door, going inside. He hesitantly followed.

The inside is nothing as he thought it would be. For starters, it was surprisingly clean and  it didn’t smell bad. And instead of tools and brooms and leafblowers, it had bean bags, blankets, a table with a radio full of knickknacks in the corner and a chair that had clearly seen better days but looked comfortable none the less. The girl walked to a corner of the room and his eyes followed her as she closed the door, which had small sharpie drawings on it. She reached for a white box and settled it on the floor between the two bean bags, and reached inside a very small thermos to pull out an artificially blue isotonic drink and settled it down too. Then from the plastic bag he previously assumed was trash, she pulled a bag of chips.

She then patted the bean bag next to hers. “Welcome to my clinic”, she said, placing the white box on her lap.

-

After an entire afternoon of bonding over unhealthy food and an impromptu first aid rescue, Niragi learned that her name was Y/N, she was a year below and that this little world she created was her refuge from the girls in her class that picked on her.

“I found this and decided that it would be nice. No one’s using it, it’s far from everything. It’s on the Beheaded Woman’s territory”.

Niragi heard the rumors through his bullies. “One day we’ll drag you to the Beheaded Woman’s woods and fucking kill you”.  After further investigation, he learned that allegedly a girl was dragged through the woods and beheaded with a blunt axe.

“I made the rumors up. I had to make sure no one would find my safe haven”, she explained. “And once you write something in the girls’ bathroom stall, there’s no turning back. It’s out there and it’s truth”, she sighed. “I would know”.

He wasn’t the most up to date in all the gossip but she told him her story. The rumors they spread, the things they did to her. She almost seemed amused. He in turn told her his story. By the end of it, he could kill someone. She then offered him the other key to her safe haven.

“You can decorate it too. Don’t tell anyone else and make sure to lock it after you use it. Use it as much as you want, just make sure they don’t follow you, okay?”

He took the keys with shakey hands, a knot on his throat. Another type of adrenaline was pumping through his veins. When a few moments ago there were a fast white heat, coursing through him like an electric current, this was slow and almost overwhelmingly warm, like molten lava.

“Why are you doing this? Being so nice to me?”, he whispered as if it was a secret, as if this moment was another fantasy, a deer that’s easily spooked. He had fantasized about this too. A safe haven, an ally. A friend.

“Because we’re the same, you and I”.

-

You hated him. You hated him with a burning passion. What was at first an act of pity, born from the empathy you felt by seeing someone go through what you did, quickly became a friendship and like a disease, it spread to beyond your safe haven. You would spend your free time together, walk home together. You became friends. And what did he do? Exactly what he told you he would.

“Sometimes don’t you wish to disappear?”, he whispered to you once.

“Yeah. Like, run away? Yeah, I do”, you replied agreeing with him.

 ‘You’re the only one that understands me. We really are the same’, he would say. What at the beginning of your budding crush on him gave you butterflies on the stomach now made you want to throw up.

You lost your only friend. You despised the sound of music now, because every single song you heard, you shared with him. For the same reason, you didn’t enjoy your favorite movies anymore. Your bullies banded together to target you. And the worst part of all, is that you couldn’t even care. There was no silver lining anymore.

“Don’t you get furious?! Don’t you want to hurt them, make them pay?”, he said as he watched you apply concealer to a bruised cheek.

“I mean, I get angry but I try my best to not let it get to me. It’s what they want. I despise those people, I can’t get in a funk because of them”, you said nonchalantly.

But you had loved him. And now you felt like even moving around was an herculean task, like you were almost dead trying to get to safety. But there was no safety anymore.

Ironically, you started to understand him more and more after he disappeared. The anger, the hatred. How could anyone just follow their lives? When there’s people like you just suffering through yours?

Suguru Niragi was an illness, a parasite. He carved his way under your skin and into your heart, laid eggs of his hate on your veins and sucked you dry of your life’s essence. Then, after you were a shell of a human, he disappeared out of thin air, leaving you alone. Leaving you with those people. Leaving you to die.

And you were still in love with him.

-

You thought you were finally insane when it happened.

The streets were empty. Absolutely no one. You wondered for a moment if you felt so alone that your mind convinced itself that that’s exactly what had happened, if any moment now you would be locked in an insane asylum for running around and screaming until you throat got raw.

It took you two games to understand what was going on. You made sure to change clothes. Running shoes, leggings and a warm hoodie that you never let the hood down. You decided to significantly shorten your hair after you saw a man pull a young girl by the ponytail in a spades game. You loaded a backpack with food and bottles of water, anything you could find. And an axe that you took from an emergency box from the building you slept in.

It was on your 5th game that it happened. You saw people die in these games, but none of it was hands on for you. You just watched your back and hoped to win and let whoever was running this show take care of the rest. Honestly, you didn’t even wait to know if anyone even survived. You were done doing that.

When you got there, there were five people already. They banded together and whispered amongst themselves as you passed them by and grabbed a phone. Probably just a group of friends that got stranded at the same time and decided to stay together. You clutched you axe harder.

You didn’t even realize that you had zoned out until you heard hollering and four guys heavily armed walked you by. Where the fuck did they get guns? One of them let out a boisterous laugh that reminded you of someone that you wanted desperately to forget. You couldn’t even get over him during fucking Saw? That sound made your skin crawl.

Registration closed, said the mechanic voice. Difficulty: 8 of clubs. The first 5 players will be the first team and the last 5 players will be the second. One team must eliminate the others without losing any players. Both teams will be identified by the color of your screen, and will have one minute to hide.

You saw the armed guys’ screens light up red. You sighed in relief as yours did too. You made sure to keep your head down and thank whoever that not killing teammates was a part of the rules. They seemed amused and absolutely calm, and the guy with the rifle laughed again. You were shaking by now.

When the minute started, everyone bolted in different directions. You didn’t even look back to see if your teammates had accompanied you but by the sound of your footsteps crushing leaves, you were alone. You decided to go back after a while, looking around. A lamppost. Huh, lamppost it is. You leaned against the cool metal and focused on the silence. The minute had ended but they were still hunting. You didn’t come across anyone, which was good. After a while, all you could hear were distant gunshots.

You looked to the floor, only to see a shadow approaching you quick. You barely had time to dodge before a man hit you behind the head with a rock. You reacting made him lose his balance, falling to the floor and letting go of the rock. You looked at him. It was one of the boys from the other team. He had on a white button up blouse and a black hoodie. His hair had fallen over his brown eyes and he looked so scared and so alone.

This will have to do.

You didn’t stop, suddenly lifting the axe and bringing it down was like an automatic thing.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME? AFTER ALL I’VE DONE FOR YOU! YOU ABANDONED ME IN A MINUTE, LEFT ME ALONE IN THAT HELL!”

You didn’t stop when he started praying and then screaming. You didn’t stop when he started bleeding profusely or when the strength of your movements made your hood slide down from your head. You didn’t stop when his head got detached from his body and if you weren’t so angry, you would’ve listened tfootsteps. You didn’t stop until you had made mincemeat out of his face. Just for the sheer audacity of reminding you of him.

He looked at you from afar while you looked at the body of the boy whose skull you just had destroyed, a maniac, victorious smile on your face. You were pretending the boy was him. You really thought he had abandoned you? He would be absolutely heartbroken if he wasn’t so aroused. That’s what he always wanted to see, the instincts that you tried to push down. You were right, you were both the same. He wanted to lick that blood off of you, use it as lube to take you right there. When he first arrived at the Borderlands, when he first killed someone and liked it, he thought you would be disgusted by him. But look at you now. You were here, perfect for him, soaked in blood, feral. He’s never been so hard.

“Y/N”, he said.

“Niragi?,” you said. He ran to you, held you even when you fought back, even when you screamed bloody murder that you were going insane, begging to die already, even when you passed out on his arms. He licked a drop of blood from your neck.

“Let me take you to our safe haven”, he whispered against your skin.

[everlarkficexchange]

On the Hunt

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt 39: Katniss has been bumping into the same stranger (Peeta) for months. When they get stuck in an unfortunate situation together, she decides to be the first to say hello. [submitted by @eiramrelyat / @taylerwrites]

Ratings/Warnings: T

The first time Katniss sees him, he takes her breath away. It’s from afar. He probably doesn’t even catch a glimpse of her, but her whole world tilts off its axis.

She’s not sure why he stands out to her. There’s nothing particularly unique about him. He’s not short or tall or big or small. He’s not drop-dead gorgeous or ugly like a troll. He doesn’t move like an athlete or sparkle with the magic of a performer. He appears normal in every sense of the word, but that doesn’t mean she can’t see how special he really is. At least she thinks he might be—if she had a chance to actually speak to him.

That doesn’t happen, though. She’s too far away when she sees him picking up a loaf of bread, and she can’t seem to move once he’s left her line of sight. She stays frozen in the freezer section (the irony!) for several minutes. Hopefully, everyone else thinks she’s considering her options in breakfast burritos, but she’s actually involved in an out of body experience that follows the young man from the back of the store to the registers, out the door, and into the parking lot where he must load his groceries into his car and drive away. His life is no different, but hers will never be the same.

It has to be because she’s lonely. It’s been a very long time since she’s been in a relationship. In fact, it’s been so long since she’s kissed a man, she kind of wonders if she’s forgotten how to do it. Katniss has never been that popular, but she’s enjoyed her fair share of attention. She tries really hard not to spiral out in the freezer section, but Christ on a cracker! Something about that specimen of manhood has made her question her life’s choices. Why hasn’t she run into him before now? Clearly, she’s been living wrong.

Except, she hasn’t. She’s done absolutely everything she knows to do to be a good person. She supports her little sister and sends money to her mother who needs every speck of help she can get. She has a best friend who’s been by her side since they both lost their fathers when they were barely teenagers. She helps out at a shelter and donates money to the food bank because she knows way too well how hunger can impact a person’s life. In other words, there’s no reason her weekly grocery trip should result in an upheaval to her world. It’s simply not fair, and she plans to file a complaint to who it is that runs fate and destiny. She has a bone to pick.

Somehow, she finds everything on her list and heads to the front of the store. When she gets there, she unloads her groceries and watches as the cashier scans each item. Digging into her wallet, she’s stunned to find she only has a twenty and the total keeps rising. Mortified, she watches as the number climbs to $34.15.

“I don’t have… I mean, can you take off the…”

Trying to figure out what she can live without until her next paycheck, she surveys the food and toiletries. Almost in tears, she stammers for a few seconds before the cashier speaks.

“Don’t worry. Another patron paid it forward. He left a twenty and asked that I use it if anyone needed help. Looks like you could use some.”

“I— I couldn’t. It’s not right.”

“The guy seemed pretty adamant that I only offer it to someone who could use a break. It seems like that could be you today.”

Katniss nodded slowly. “Do you have any idea who it is? I’d like to thank them.”

The cashier shook her head. “Young guy. Stocky, medium height, ashy blonde hair, blue eyes. Very polite. Named Peter, I think. Something like that.”

It’s got to be him. The description’s too similar to be a coincidence. It seems the guy that froze her in place with his looks is as kind and compassionate as he is special. Now, he’s even more intimidating.

She nods her thanks and takes the change and her purchases. The five in her pocket gives her a little joy, but the feeling of not having money still bothers her. Maybe it’s time to get a credit card. She’s been warned off them for so long that she never applied for one, but now, it might be something she should do. Maybe. It makes her nervous to think she could get in financial trouble with it. She’s been poor her entire life. It might be too tempting to resist.

When she makes it back to her apartment, her attempt to unpack her groceries is interrupted frequently by long pauses in which she fantasizes about finding the guy who’s rocked her world and given her daydreams about all the ways she needs to thank him (appropriately and not so much) for the rest of her life. It’s not unrealistic at all. Totally doable, she decides. After all, how hard can it be to find him again? They live in the same town.

****

The answer to that question is that it’s very hard. Difficult isn’t even the word to describe the problem she has in trying to find the Boy With the Bread, which is what she calls him even though he’s definitely an adult. The person she saw from afar was all man if the stretch of his shirt across broad shoulders was any indication. Still, the alliteration makes her smile, so she continues to refer to him as such.

It shouldn’t take so long, but it does. Months pass, and she wonders if she’s made it all up and imagined the creature that changed her life. She keeps her eyes open in public, scans the local news and social media sites, and seriously considers setting up an online dating site just to see if he’s looking for someone. She’s getting desperate, but then fate smiles on her again.

She’s sitting in a coffee shop, something she hardly ever does, when he walks in the door. She doesn’t normally have time for such a mundane, normal activity that other people her age seem to enjoy all the time. She’s usually working during the day, and she has no desire to consume copious amounts of caffeine after 5 pm when she gets off work. Today, though, she has time. She’s taken a half day to run errands and go to the dentist, and she needs the jolt the espresso will give her to survive her reduced shift.

He ducks through the doorway just as she’s taken a sip of her hot beverage, and she almost chokes on the liquid. He shakes the umbrella he’s holding just outside the door and shoves a riot of blonde curls off his forehead that have shrunken up and frizzed from the rain. It’s adorable.

He’s wearing an emerald Henley and faded jeans that hug all the right places. The sight of him freezes her in place, but that doesn’t stop her from tracking him as moves past her. She’s close enough to see his eyes are blue before he marches across the café and approaches a man sitting alone in the corner. They clasp hands and grin at each other, and the vision in green heads to the counter to order.

She’s dumbfounded. Here he is again after so long, and she can’t think of a single thing to say to him or how in the world to actually approach him without making her look absolutely insane. She racks her brain trying to think of an intelligent topic, but she’s jolted from that when the barista walks to the end of the bar and calls a name.

“Peeta! Chai Latte.”

That’s his name, she realizes, and it’s like the sun’s broken through thick, heavy clouds. It’s just unusual enough to fit him and still feel familiar. He smiles at the woman behind the bar and takes the cup from her. He ordered chai, and she files that information away for future reference. He might not like coffee, which seems important.

She’s pondering a trip to the bathroom just so she has an excuse to pass by him when she suddenly understands that he’s leaving. He and his friend are talking as they walk to the door, and she catches the sound of his voice.

“—we can change that, the numbers will—”

His words are swallowed by the rush of traffic outside, but that silky tone she hardly had a chance to listen to has already taken up residence in the part of her brain that creates unrealistic fantasies. She daydreams for longer than she should. In fact, it’s only the vibration of her phone against the table that reminds her she has to get to her job. What a chance encounter, but now she has a name to go with that face.

****

She’s tried to find him again. She’s googled and returned to the coffee shop when she’s had a spare minute or two. She’s asked around and continues to check dating sites. Nothing. She’s found absolutely nothing. Without a last name, she has very little idea how to find out anything else. Frustrated, she goes about her daily life with a weight on her shoulders that shouldn’t be there. He’s a stranger she’s glimpsed only a couple of times.

Frustrated and full of pent-up energy, she joins a gym. There’s nothing quite like working up a good sweat to ease tension and kickstart her brain, so she spends her free time running the track, lifting, and participating in every hot yoga class the establishment offers. After a month, she’s leaner and stronger than ever, but she hasn’t managed to come up with any ideas that might help her find the guy she desperately wants to thank for saving her when she wasn’t sure how she’d eat for a week.

She’s two laps into her normal ten when she glances down from the elevated track and spots a pickup game of three on three basketball on the far court. Three blonde men face off against three with dark hair, one of whom looks remarkably like her best friend Gale Hawthorne, who she hasn’t seen since he left town for a job almost a year ago. As she jogs closer to the court, she realizes it is him teamed up with his brothers. The blonde men look like siblings, too, but she doesn’t spare them much of a glance. She’s got more laps to go, and she doesn’t want to draw any attention to herself. Gale didn’t bother to tell her that he’s in town, and she’s a little miffed by that.

It’s another three passes by the court before it hits her that the blonde men look familiar. She puts on a burst of speed to get back to where she can see the men closeup and almost trips over her own feet when she spies him. It’s the guy. THE guy. The cashier had said Peter, and the barista had called him Peeta. She stops in her tracks and grabs the railing when someone bumps into her from behind.

“Watch it!” he yells as the jogger passes her. “You’re not supposed to stop on the track!”

She dismisses him with a wave and sprints to the nearest stairwell. If she can just catch them… She bounds down the stairs, three at a time, and bursts into a bustling walkway. She dodges and shoves her way free and streaks around the corner to find—

“Catnip! What are you doing here?”

“Gale!” Sweat drips down her forehead and stings her eyes. Cringing, she swipes her hand across her face and tries not to cry. “Where are—? I thought you were playing basketball.”

He throws her a bewildered look and nods like she’s lost it a little. “We were.”

“You’re done?”

“Yeah? We’d been at it for a while. Are you… Have you been watching me?”

Katniss rolls her eyes, although that’s not really very fair. She had noticed him. It’s not like that’s not the case. “Who were you playing with? I saw Vic and Rory, but the blonde guys… Who, er, who were they?”

The expression on his face would be priceless if she weren’t so desperate to find out the information. He looks like he’s swallowed something very, very distasteful, and she tries hard not to snort with laughter.

“Why?”

She takes in his narrowed eyes and realizes she’s going to have to lie to get what she wants. Part of the reason they haven’t been as close since he left town is due to his sudden confessions of feelings toward her. She’d let him down easy, but things have been strained since then. There’s no need to rub that in his face when all she wants is to find out about Peeta. With a straight face and innocent eyes, she explains, “I think one of them door dinged my car a couple of weeks ago. The gym won’t give out membership information, but if you know who they are… Well, I’d be really grateful, Gale.”

He falls for it when she bats her eyelashes at him. She should feel terrible, but all’s fair in love and basketball. Of all people, Gale should want her to be happy, no matter if that means she’s interested in someone else or not. She’s no damsel in distress, unless she can’t pay for her groceries or something. However, her simpering works, and that’s really what she needs.

“Mellark is the last name. They all have bread names. It’s weird.”

She rolls the name around in her head for a bit. Peeta Mellark. It’s a nice solid name, and now she has more information to help her figure out how to find him. Almost giddy with victory, she stretches up on her tiptoes and kisses Gale’s cheek in gratitude. Backing away before he can reciprocate, she hears him as the distance widens between them.

“Do you want to grab dinner sometime? Maybe?”

“Sorry, Gale! Got to go. Really good to see you!”

With that, she turns her back and slips down the hall to the women’s locker room. She doesn’t bother to shower before grabbing her bag and heading to her car. She’s barely closed the door before she’s on her phone and typing in the name Peeta Mellark. She has a thank you to deliver.

****

Surprisingly, it’s not much easier to find him now that she knows his full name. She unveils a lot of information about his family, but not him. Apparently, they own a few local bakeries that she tries out and loves. Still, Peeta’s family is not the same thing as Peeta, who is remarkably absent from social media and with no online presence. She’s willing to admit, she got cocky, and now she can’t figure out how to recover from it.

“Where the hell is he?” she mutters as she comes up empty. Again.

Frustrated, she runs over all the data she’s gathered about him. He’s kind, compassionate, and thoughtful; all of those qualities were on display at the grocery store. He drinks tea and has a very good-looking friend who he talks to about numbers; that she learned at the coffee shop. He’s athletic and has two brothers he likes well enough to exercise with them; that information, and his last name, came from the gym. It should be enough to go on. It’s not.

She’s at home on her couch and paying bills when it suddenly hits her that she may never see this guy again. Peeta Mellark seems to be a figment of her imagination for all the good it’s done to try to find him. That and the small number in her bank account are both so unpleasant that she decides she’s going to have to break down and do something she’s been avoiding and delaying for a very long time. She’s going to have to open a line of credit. She’ll only use it for emergencies, but she can’t rely on the kindness of strangers to bail her out the next time she doesn’t have money for groceries, let alone car maintenance or an unforeseen medical crisis. It’s been months since Peeta saved her, but the humiliation of not being able to take care of herself still hasn’t faded. Before she can change her mind, she grabs her purse and heads to the bank. The time is now.

“Can I help you?” A bubbly blonde teller named Delly asks, and Katniss takes a deep breath to fortify herself.

“I’d like to open a line of credit. Can I talk to someone about that?”

“Sure!” she practically squeals. “Let me just call someone to help you.”

She’s led down the hallway and past a few desks to a small office. Once ushered inside, she sits and raises her eyes to view the person across from her.

“Oh…”

The man before her is stunning—green eyes, bronze hair, a swimmer’s build. It’s the guy’s—Peeta’s—friend, the one he was with at the coffee shop.

“Ms. Everdeen. I’m Finnick Odair. Want some sugar?” he asks and nudges a candy bowl toward her.

“No, I’m fi—.”

“Hey, Finn. Can you— Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were with a customer.”

She jerks at the sound of his voice. Peeta Mellark is standing in the doorway, and her heart is in her throat. She has a sudden flashback of the coffee shop, when the two of them walked past her discussing numbers… Now, it all makes sense. They work at a bank together. Of course they do. Peeta turns to leave, and she calls out.

“Wait! Stay with me.”

She claps her hands over her mouth and wills herself not to blush, but it’s no use. She’s just asked a perfect stranger to stay with her, and her invitation sounds much more intimate than she means it to. He must think she’s insane. Maybe she actually is. She pushes down a sudden urge to flee the situation and escape to the safety of her apartment.

This is out of her wheelhouse. Shy, introverted, and intensely private, Katniss worries the end of her braid and bites her lip. Every instinct she has tells her to run, but the temptation of him before her is too great. Rising, she crosses to him and holds out her hand.

“Hi. My name is Katniss. You saved my life once, and I’ve been on the hunt to find you for months. Thank you.”

Peeta and his friend exchange looks, and she fights the urge to shrivel back into herself. Finally, he looks directly at her and takes her palm in his. With a smile so disarming she nearly faints, he answers.

“Peeta Mellark. It’s nice to meet you.”

The touch of his hand on hers melts her insides. She dreads when she finally has to let go, but maybe she won’t have to. With a shy smile, she cocks out her hip and looks up at him through long lashes. Her flirting may be a disaster, but it’s all she’s got.

“It’s so nice to meet you, too.”

The flicker in his eyes makes her knees weak. An hour later, she’s left the bank with a line of credit, a phone number, and a dinner date. The hunt is finally over.

[moon-in-daylight]

Read Between The Lines / Count Orlo x reader

Summary: You have been friends with Orlo for years now, even though you have always fantasized about being something more. When Orlo reads some compromising papers, you’re not sure you can keep your infatuation with him a secret anymore.

Words: 5.4k

A/N: I’ve been working on this fic for weeks and now I’ve finally finished it. I’m not sure I’m content with the result, but considering I’ve overcome a really huge writing block to finish this, I’m posting it either way. I haven’t proofread any of this, so sorry for the potential mistakes and typos. Hope it still makes some sense. Also sorry for posting so late at night, but now that I finally have a fic to post, I can’t wait to do it until tomorrow 😂 

Surviving in Peter’s court wasn’t an easy task and anyone that had spent more than a few nights between the opulent walls of his palace could confirm that. The competence of the young Emperor could be easily described as inexistent and both the country and the palace were suffering the most absolute misery under his wicked and corrupted hand.

The war with Sweden had lasted too long, killed too many of your own people, but as harsh as it sounded, the front wasn’t the most hostile environment in Russia.

Sooner or later, that war would end. Eventually, things would go back to normal to the few lucky Russian soldiers that survived the unforgivingly cold winter in the battleground. Whatever outcome the dispute would take, the remaining survivors could go home and return to their families, live the rest of their lives in peace despite the atrocities they had been obliged to perform and witness…

The court, on the other hand, was endlessly immersed in a constant, vicious war for power that had started long before you were even born, and most certainly would still go on long after you were gone.

Every single soul living in Peter’s palace cared only for themselves, looked exclusively for their own interests. Winning the Emperor’s favor was vital for survival, and no one seemed to care whose feet they stepped on to get it. You could understand their selfish ways, you weren’t completely innocent either. You often forced yourself to laugh at the terrible jokes Peter made or took advantage of your family’s prosperous situation to get the any whims you could desire, even when in the majority times you actually didn't need most of the things you owned. It was an unfair situation and you were aware of it, but you had to take advantage of the fact that you had been born lucky and privileged.

But you normally tried to stay out of the way of the big political players, of those of the court’s residents that were trying to manipulate Peter into ruling by their beliefs and principles.

It was exhausting to live in a place like that. A place where everyone hid their true intentions and where you couldn’t lower your guard at practically any time of the day.

Much to your disgrace, the situation at court wouldn’t change while Peter was alive and occupying the throne. Even when he was the most incompetent, useless ruler the country had had in centuries – probably ever -, you were doomed to endure his reign with the only hope that you could outlive him and see a better Russia after he passed away.

He was too childish and puerile to run a country, far more worried in the seek for his own pleasure and amusement than meeting the needs of his people.

It was hard to conceive that while thousands of men were dying at the front, the Emperor could be drinking until passing out and making full display of his stupidity and recklessness through humorless jokes. It was evident to everyone’s eyes that he wasn’t qualified to run Russia, but you knew that saying that out loud would more than certainly get you killed.

He came from a long bloodline of rulers and that gave him a full pass on doing anything he wanted, no consequences, all by the divine grace of God. There was absolutely nothing you could do, except watch everyone around you butter up and lick the boots of the man that was destroying your homeland.

Not being able to deal with the hypocrisy of the court, you had soon learnt to ignore the real world and hide yourself up in fantasy ones, the shelves and books of the small library of the palace becoming a shelter for you.

In addition to being meaningfully smaller than the other rooms of the palace, the library was old, outdated and dusty. But it was also the quietest place and most peaceful room you could have access to, the least crowded. Just for that reason, it was the perfect place for you.

Although what you could have initially expected, you weren’t always alone in there, as Count Orlo often visited the library too. He was probably the only soul in the whole court beside you that care the slightest for written words, that enjoyed learning new things just for the pleasure of it.

You were intimidated by him at first, his political career and reputation making him seem cold and ruthless. In your eyes and judging by what you had heard of him, he was nothing but a calculating mind seeking to expand his power and influence, putting up with the Emperor’s constant mocking of him just so he could manipulate him.

That view you had of him immediately changed after the first time you exchanged a few ideas about the philosophy book he had caught you reading, his passionate words allowing you to see the concepts you were reading about from a different and more interesting point of view.

It wasn’t rare for the both of you to coincide in that room and through your encounters you easily familiarized and grew comfortable with each other presence. How could you not? He was always nothing but kind to you.

Whenever he had the chance, he got reunited with you so you could discuss your readings, recommend each other new books or just spend some quality time away from all the court’s madness. He was incredibly friendly and caring, always willing to share with you his knowledge, which you were incredibly thankful for.

Women weren’t supposed to learn the things you were learning. Most of them at court were illiterate, and you would be too had your father not thought it could be useful to teach you how to read when you were a child. You were grateful that he had taken the time to teach you, knowing that most men wanted the women around them to be ignorant and obliging. You were tired of seeing the patronizing way in which your gender was treated. So seeing that Orlo was treating you as an equal and was happy to answer even your most stupid questions was truly relieving.

It didn’t take long for you to grow fond of him, maybe fonder than you would have liked to admit.

Orlo was the only person in court you felt you could rely on, his views and ideas more similar to yours than what you could have ever imagined. Despite what everyone else gossiped about him, you knew he was brave and did the best he could to make a difference in Russia. He couldn’t do much to reason with Peter and talk him into making what was best for everyone, you doubted that anyone could. But at least he tried, unlike all that people who dared to mock him.

You saw in him something you had been looking for your whole life; a ray of hope. A promise that things could change, a reminder that not everything was that bad.

You couldn’t help but to let yourself fall for the feelings you slowly developed for him. It felt too good and tempting to not do so. The way your heart raced whenever you were around him was something thrilling, exciting. Something you had never thought you could ever get to feel while living in that place.

You weren’t willing to act on those feelings and risk losing his friendship, though. It was evident how uncomfortable he felt about that subject whenever Peter and his minions made fun of his lack sexual experience. You could see him clench and cringe under the court’s mockeries, discomfort filling his features every time anyone made a sexual reference in his presence. You assumed he simply wasn’t interested in those matters.

Plus, if he had been interested in you that way, he would have said something, shown some sign of his affection towards you…

It was okay that he didn’t feel the same. Just being able to befriend him was more than you could have asked for, and silently daydream about made up scenarios of you and him usually did the trick when you felt the need of being loved back.

That’s how, during one night in which you couldn’t get Orlo out of your head while reading, you had started writing a ‘book’ of your own.

You had been gathering different fantasies during the last couple of months. Endless reveries about how kissing him for the first time would feel like, what his reaction would be to other men taking an interest of you, or even about how the most quotidian parts of the day, like waking up or having breakfast, would be like with him.

Why should you not write something of your own, for your own consumption? You had always loved reading, and your feelings for Orlo gave you a never ending source of inspiration. So many ideas that you barely could remember them all. By writing them, you could preserve the happiest of your thoughts, go through them after a bad day and have your little stories bring a smile to your face.

It was harmless, so why not doing it? If it brought you joy, it couldn’t be that bad. Plus, Orlo would never have to know about your writings, as he didn’t need to know about your feelings for him either.

You hadn’t been able to write or read anything for the past days, though. Since the arrival of the Empress to the court everything had been even more chaotic than usual, and even when you much have rather stay in your chambers or with Orlo in the library instead, you had been obliged to attend to the wedding and following events.

As soon as you had seen her innocence, the look of hope in her face as she arrived to the palace for the first time, you had pitied her. She was an outsider hoping to find in the Emperor the love of her life, and in Russia a new home. You almost felt inclined to advice her to run away as fast as she could and never look back the second she walked through the palace’s doors. Living in that place was already awful enough without being married to Peter, and you figured that more sooner than later she would be regretting ever having left her home.

It only took a few days for her to realize in what a godforsaken place she had gotten herself into, as you had figured would happen. What you weren’t expecting was for her to start plotting against his husband’s life so she could steal his throne, nor that she would be requesting for your help in the process.

You had of course agreed to help her as soon as she had told you about the coup. You barely knew the woman, but you were already sure she would be making a much better work at running Russia that Peter ever would. Even a monkey could do it better, you suspected.

Because of your implication to her plans, you had found yourself having less time to spend with your own thoughts and writings, but that was compensated by having the chance of spending even more time than before with Orlo, as you had been able to convince him into taking part of the coup too.

It was actually nice to take part in the plotting against Peter, not only because you hated the bastard, but because due to the extra time you spent with Orlo, you could feel the bond between you getting stronger. During coup meetings, you would usually support each other’s ideas, have inside jokes between the two of you… You even defended him against Marial’s rude comments of him.

But as much fun as you were having helping Catherine kill the Emperor, it was also a really exhausting and demanding task, and you soon found that you barely had time to spend by yourself anymore. It had been at least a week since the last time you had been able to sit by your desk and write any of the scenarios you pictured with Orlo. And now that you were spending so much time together, you had a lot to write about.

That night you had arrived to your apartments early, right after dinner. As was tradition every few nights in the court, the Emperor was hosting a party, and you had been fortunate enough to be spared of the torture of attending.

You were hopping you could spend a quiet, peaceful night by yourself for once. To get lost in your thoughts as you imagined Orlo by your side in a new, reformed Russia. But your plans immediately took a different turn when, after searching through the whole room, you couldn’t find your writings anywhere.

After inspecting every drawer and every corner of your room for the second time, you started to get seriously worried.

What if someone had sneaked into your chambers and taken your writings? It was unlikely, as you hadn’t tell anyone about their existence. Why would anyone want to steal those, anyway? What value could they hold to anyone other than you? Of all the items in your quarters, those papers were probably the least valuable thing. If anyone had intended to steal anything from that room, you were sure that would be the last thing they would have taken, and yet, it was the only missing item…

But looking around you, you realized it wasn’t the only thing out of place. In the top of your desk you found a book that wasn’t supposed to be there, the book you had supposedly lent Orlo last week.

Quickly putting all the pieces together, you realized the fatal mistake you had made as your heart practically started to bump in your chest.

You had given him your own writings, instead of the Voltaire pamphlet you had been meaning to share with him.

Mumbling and cursing yourself, you grabbed the book between your hands and rushed out of your chambers and towards Orlo’s.

The Count had been even busier than you with the whole coup situation, so you hoped and prayed for him not to have found a single moment to read in all that time. You knew that in usual conditions, he could and would devour entire books over night, but you held to the hope that he hadn’t seen any of the things you had written about him.

Well, you had seen him exhausting himself from work every day for the past week. His mind seemed to be too focused on planning the next move, on thinking of possible allies for the Empress. It was quite possible he hadn’t even remembered that the book was in his possession.

If he had seen the words you had written, he would have already said something, right? So maybe you could still fix your mistake and act as if nothing had ever happened.

Assuming that he was still at the Emperor’s party, you could sneak into his chambers and switch the books. Prevent the awkwardness that the discovering of your fantasies with him would arouse between the two of you.

You didn’t bother to knock on his door before silently making your way into his chambers, holding the book close to your chest as you tried to ease the pressure that you felt inside.

When you saw that the entrance seemed to be empty, you let out a silent sigh of relieve. Yet, your steps were carefully slow as you got deeper into the room, trying not to make a single noise just in case.

It felt somewhat wrong to be there without his permission, but saving your friendship came before any moral conflict that could arouse within you at the moment.

If everything went okay, he would never have to know about any of it.

You held onto that thought as you kept walking towards the door of his bedchamber, where you knew he kept most of his books. Even when what you were doing felt wrong, it was for a greater good. How uncomfortable would the coup meetings be if he were to discover about your infatuation of him? For the well-being of Russia itself, he should never find out.

Besides, you were just trying to mend a wrong. You had given him your writings in a foolish mistake, by taking them back and leaving the actual book in their place you were just making things right. You convinced yourself it was the righteous thing to do, even when deep down it didn’t feel like it.

Succeeding into making your way to the front door of his bedchamber without any major complication, you pushed the doors open and quickly got inside the room. You didn’t mean to stay too long in there, but you closed the doors behind you in case any guard found them open and got alarmed.

The last thing you wanted right now was for anyone to find you there and having to make up an excuse for your furtive presence in the Count’s apartments.

When you looked up and found him sitting on his desk your body immediately froze, and when he looked up from the papers he was reading to look at you, you felt the cold sweat forming in your forehead.

For a second, you kept your eyes on him, watching surprise taking over his features. You tried to think of something, anything. An excuse to why you were sneaking into his chambers late at night when everyone was supposed to be either sleeping, dancing or completely wasted. You considered the idea of pretending to be drunk, make him think that you had entered his apartments by mistake and let him guide you back to yours. Being the gentleman he had always been, you knew that would be exactly what he would do in that situation.

It would certainly be embarrassing, and you feared he would feel uncomfortable having to deal with a drunk version of you. But you knew it would be far more embarrassing and uncomfortable to tell him the real reason why you were there.

If you were lucky enough and your performance succeeded, maybe you would even be able to ‘drunkenly’ roam through the room in search of your writings and take them with you without him noticing. Maybe you could still fix things.

You were about to ask him what he was doing in your apartments in what you hoped would sound as a drunken tone, but you desisted when you noticed the papers he was holding in his hand.

He had already read them. There was no point in making even more of a fool of yourself.

Neither of you dared to say anything for the following moments. Awkwardly, you looked at each other in what felt like the longest seconds of your life. You no longer knew what to do or say to fix that situation and, judging by the terrified look on his face, you doubted there was anything you could possibly try to make things better.

That was it. Your friendship was officially over. He would probably never want to say another word to you again. Maybe not even be in the same room as you again.

“I-“ You stumbled over your own words, feeling the lump forming in your throat and the pressure in your chest growing stronger, until the point of almost suffocate you. “I’m deeply sorry.”

As you quickly but sincerely said those words, you felt your mouth getting dry and your cheeks blushing, self-hatred taking over every inch of your body. You couldn’t bear the weight of his stare on you. Orlo’s eyes had always seemed the sweetest thing in the world to you, always so expressive and caring whenever he looked in your direction. But right now you felt them hovering over you judgmentally, with a hint of disgust on his face.

You had to look away from him immediately, but you still could notice how his face reddened too with what you assumed was second hand embarrassment.

Closing your eyes, you wished you could magically banish from that room. You wished for a hole to appear in the ground and swallow you, or for the walls to crumble and fall upon you until you were buried deep in the rubbles of the palace and nobody could find you. Literally anything could be better than standing there in front of Orlo.

You had no excuses, no way out. You wanted to properly apologize to him, make him see how truly sorry you were and how much you appreciated his friendship. How desperate you were not to lose him.

But you couldn’t find the right words for it.

“I should go.” You muttered nervously, still hopping that that entire situation was just a bitter nightmare. “I hope you can forgive me.”

Turning to leave his apartments, you wished he hadn’t notice the crack in your voice as you spoke. That whole scenario was already too shameful for you to bear, the last thing you needed was for him to see you crying. All you wanted was to get out of there as fast as you could, lock yourself in your chambers and drink until you forgot about what had happened or just passed out, whatever occurred first.

“Wait.” Orlo’s shaking voice stopped you.

As much as you wanted to run away, a single word from him was enough to stop you.

You were mortified as you stood there, still refusing to turn in his direction. You didn’t dare to. He was probably going to lecture you about how wrong and improper was what you had done, how repulsed he was by it. You didn’t want to go through it, but you owed it to him to face the consequences of your actions.

“I-I didn’t know you write.”

The Count’s tone was surprisingly tender and insecure. You turned to him with wondering eyes, trying to discern whether if he was mad at you or not.

“That’s not-“ You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but your mouth was still dry. “I mean, I don’t.”

“But aren’t these writ-?” He started to question, but you cut him off before he could finish.

“Those don’t count.” Orlo frowned at your words, confused. You made an effort to explain yourself. “They’re rubbish.”

You watched him clench his jaw and avoid your gaze before he spoke again.

“I like-“ He stuttered. “I liked them.”

His words made you blush again. Not with embarrassment, but with flustering this time. He didn’t seem mad at you. In fact, he seemed way more nervous than you. His stammering confession of his liking of your work made you realize how hard he was trying to seem composed.

“I thought you’d be upset.” You tried to state, but your doubtful tone made it sound more like a question.

“I am not.” He was quick to reply, but still refused to meet your eye. “I think the way you… I really enjoyed your descriptions. They’re very detailed and intricated. And the vocabulary is delightfully rich.”

You could see the way Orlo moved around as he spoke, grabbing your writings in one hand and gesticulating with the other one to emphasize his words. He was visibly nervous, but he was doing his best to hide it. He was trying to act as if he was making a simple review of any other book you had shared with him and, as thankful as you were that he was attempting to normalize the situation, this wasn’t just another one of your endless talks about literature.

You hadn’t written those stories with the purpose of discussing them. It felt cold to talk about the use of vocabulary in them when your only intention at the time of writing them had only been to find a way to deal with what you felt for him. You weren’t especially proud of the product of your writing, but you had poured your heart and soul in them. How could he act as if he hadn’t read right through you? Was he really that oblivious that he didn’t realize that you were head over heels about him?

It was literally impossible he didn’t know, he had read about it with his very own eyes. Still, he seemed to be trying to act as if nothing had happened. You had accidentally stripped your feelings, showed him your deepest desires. And all you got from him was nothing.

For a second you thought you would have preferred that he had screamed at you, showed you rage, discomfort, or even disgust. Literally any other feeling that wasn’t the indifference he was giving you. Did he really not care at all?

Confronting him about it felt wrong. You weren’t entitled to it, and you didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was. Instead, you decided to play along.

“And what do you think of the plot?” You asked, hoping he would take it as a cue to address the issue that worried you.

“T-The plot?” He repeated anxiously as he readjusted his glasses. You nodded, hoping for him to say something, but all you got from him was a mumbling mess.

You felt your heart ache for him as he stumbled through stuttered words and unfinished sentences. The Count seemed even more uncomfortable trying to find a right answer for you than what he usually was when being mocked by the court. And considering how awkward he felt under the constant jibes he was put through daily, that was saying something.

“Orlo, I’m sorry you read that.” You cut him off in an attempt to calm him down. Embarrassment was taking over you once again and you felt the urge to leave his apartments immediately, but you first needed to try to calm his nerves. You hated seeing him so unsettled, and you knew that he was going to be torturing himself about that interaction once you left the room, just as you were going to do too. At least, you had to try to find the right words to clear his mind. It had been you the one that had put him in that place after all. “I shouldn’t have written those things about you. It’s okay if you feel uncomfortable about it, you don’t have to pretend you don’t. I understand if you’re upset, even. It’s not your fault. I have no excuse for this, I now realize I should have never-“

“I’m not-“ Orlo’s voice surprised you, making you hush instantly. “It’s not that I’m upset. I just-“

He closed his eyes and sighed, probably still struggling to find the right words to express what was going through his mind. Knowing the man, you realized he was probably beating himself up inside that restless head of his. Cursing himself for not knowing the best way to react to that situation. The man was a perfectionist, always had been. If he said the wrong thing now he wouldn’t be able to think of any other thing for the rest of the week.

“I really can’t tell if you wrote these stories as a joke.” He finally sentenced.

“A joke?” The words left your lips before you could even process them. “Why would you think that?”

“I know I’m not a ladies man.” He stated, discomfort still plaguing his tone. “I’m well aware of all the rumors and jests about me. It’s just… I know I’m not desirable to women.”

You couldn’t help but frown while hearing his words. Your heart broke a little inside your chest, too. How could he think that you would mock him like that? Had he really grown to believe all the mean and hurtful things the evil tongues at Court said about him?

“Orlo, that’s bullshit.” You stepped forward, the embarrassment you had been drowning in suddenly turning into indignation. “You’re not a coward. You’re the bravest, most caring man I know. Not even half of the other men in this palace would be courageous enough to have joined this coup, to fight to make a difference. They can’t say nothing to you and it’s criminal that they have the audacity to mock you.”

The Count stared at you in disbelief of your words, still reluctant to look at you directly in the eye. It hurt you that he couldn’t seem to believe your words were true.

“You aren’t ugly either.” You continued, placing yourself right in front of his desk. “You have the most beautiful and intense eyes I’ve ever seen. I could stare at them for hours, if you let me. And your hair? It looks so soft, I’d love to run my fingers through it.”

Your heart beat increased as you kept listing the things you loved the most about him. It felt weird to just say to his face all the things that you loved about him and that you had kept in secret for years, but you needed him to understand just how wrong he was.

“You’re so intelligent that I sometimes fear you will laugh at me when I say something stupid, but deep down I know you won’t because you’re too kind to ever do that.”

Looking into his eyes, you took a deep breathe, deciding if you should keep on or just cut it off already. Truth was you could have continued like that for hours.

“Orlo, you’re the best person I know, and anyone incapable of seeing the many virtues you have must be completely blind. Including yourself.”

Silence took over the room for the following seconds, and you feared you had made his discomfort grow stronger. Still, you didn’t regret saying those things out loud. You had kept them to yourself for too long, and he needed to know his own value.

The Count simply stared at you, eyes shifting and mouth slightly ajar.

“I never knew you thought such nice things about me.” He finally muttered bashfully, as if he was apologizing.

“Well, I’ve been in love with you for years. That’s the reason I wrote those stories.” You casually added with your newfound confidence. Somehow, it still seemed to get him by surprise. “It has been painfully obvious and I think everyone else has realized already, but since you don’t seem to be able to read between the lines, I’m telling you.”

It felt liberating to finally get it out your chest. For years you had feared his rejection, but now that you witness his own insecurities making a display right in front of you, all you cared about was to make him feel he was worthy of love and respect. You didn’t even care if he didn’t requite your feelings.

“I’m such an idiot.” Count Orlo stood and looked at you, not being able to hide the red color his cheeks had taken.

“Indeed you are.” You smiled at him, touched by his innocent obliviousness. “A very cute one, though.”

Orlo stood in front of you, closer than usual. When you noticed him fidgeting in the spot and nervously running his tongue through his lips, you realized what his new intention was. Not leaving him time to regret his decision, you captured his lips with yours in a chaste but sweet kiss.

You couldn’t help but recall the way you had imagined and described that moment in your writings as you pressed your lips against his. You had always imagined your first kiss to be more passionate and intense, but as you pulled away slowly from the kiss, you thought that the sweetness and tenderness of the actual moment was more fitting than what you could have ever pictured.

“You should have told me earlier about this.” Orlo stated, face inches away from yours.

“I’m not done telling you everything.” You smiled contently. “There are still plenty of things I love about you and that I think you should know.”

“I can think of a few about you myself.” He whispered, more relaxed now. You liked this carefree side of him.

“I’d love to hear them, but they can wait until tomorrow.” Handing him the book you still had between your hands, you stated. “I think you have some Voltaire to catch up on first. And I should go back to my apartments. It’s late and there’s something I want to write about.”

Orlo’s smile was so big that it made your heart race. After leaving the book you had given him on his desk, he gave you back your writings.

“I can’t wait to read it.”

[sabrinalucc]

The end of a sweet dream

The annual spring festival was loud every year. Families and friends were laughing and cheering, while they waited for the biggest event- the fireworks. The firework show was the perfect event to spend with their loved and special ones. While everyone was gathered behind the fence around the lake, a young man with dead eyes stared at his reflection, impatiently waiting for the start of the colourful explosions in the sky.

With a big ‘bang’ the sky lit with bright colours, but of course not as bright as her eyes. He could still remember the eyes and smile that could melt his heart at any moment. He could still hear her sweet laugh that sounded like a saint melody. He had hoped with all his heart that she would recover and stay with him. He had everything planned for this day. He was ready. But she wasn’t.

He remembered the last time when he visited his lover in the hospital. The girl was as pale as paper but still wore her beautiful smile on. She couldn’t stop talking about the festival that would come and how excited she was to spend it with him. She loved the sound and the colours that light up the sky once a year. With a lot of persuasion, he convinced the doctors to let her out of the hospital for one day, little did he know the real reason for their condoning. He was ready. Ready to show his love towards her.

The young man took a deep breath, driving away his thoughts about her. He slowly looked at his clock- it was midnight already. The time that could’ve been the happiest time of his life were fading away right in front of him. The beginning of his sweet dream was parting ways just like she did once.

He had planned on proposing her, of putting a ring around her finger to show the world that she was his and he was hers and that their love would be unbreakable. He remembered how he fantasized every night and daydreamed every day about proposing to her, marrying her, having children and possibly a dog or a cat. He wanted to grow old with her, and eventually in a very old age, die together surrounded by their children and grandchildren. But fate had planned other things. She was getting better, he thought, but in reality, God had only given him a small hope for then to take away everything that mattered to him. Everything that made him cherish life. Everything that made him wake up in the morning with a smile on.

She was his everything and now she was gone.

2 days before his proposal, the girl had died of a heart attack, taking all the light and happiness out of his life. ‘sad’, ‘devastated’, ’helpless’, ’heartbroken’, weren’t words good enough to describe his pain- actually no word would be enough to describe his pain, grief and helplessness. His heart had shattered and would never be the same again. He would never smile again but always cry just by looking at things she liked. The world had lost its colour the day she died. The sounds that surrounded him seemed like a distant demoniac melody that its only purpose was for his annoyance. He knew what he had to do.

Once again, he stared at the lake- that was the end of his story. He looked back at the people around him looking for her, but she was nowhere to be found. He took another deep breath and took his gun out of his pocket. He jumped over the fence and shot himself on the head. The last thing he saw as he drowned was the moonlight being overshined by the fireworks. He knew that she wouldn’t be happy by his doings but then again, how did she expect him to live a life without her? He doesn’t feel like he throwed his life away by killing himself. The truth is that he lived with all his heart and that he would die without regrets. No. The only regret he would have is that he never got the chance to marry her. Their lives were meant to be spent together so no wonder that they wouldn’t be able to live without their other half. His last thought was that maybe in another world he would meet her again and their story would finally have a happily ever after.

[purplesurveys]

1267

cds.

do you still buy physical copies of cds?  I stopped for many years but recently started again.

have you ever listened to a cd for the first time and loved every track?  I was like this with Petals for Armor, Flowers for Vases, and After Laughter; I’m just a super big fan of anything Hayley Williams and Paramore put out.

name an artist who always comes out with great albums:  I mean I’m gonna be biased and say Paramore...

how long can you listen to a cd without getting sick of it?  I don’t really listen to CDs per se, I guess, so I dunno if I can answer this. When I want to music, and a particular artist, I usually pick a playlist composed of songs from different albums.

do you know any good places on the internet to get free downloads of whole albums?  I wouldn’t be able to refer you to one, come to think of it.

what was the last cd you bought?  My Butter/Permission to Dance set.

have you ever gotten a cd signed by the artist?  Nope.

name cds that are in your car right now or would be in your car if you had one: I don’t keep CDs in my car just because I get my music played by connecting my phone to the Bluetooth; but I believe for the longest time I had a Beyoncé album in the CD slot before I took it out. 

your hair.

describe your hair style:  It’s wavy and layered is the most I can say about it. I don’t style it often.

when was the last time you got a haircut?  Around the start or mid-August, I think? I don’t remember when exactly; but it was very recent.

is your hair the only thing you drastically change?  I never do drastically change it to begin with. The only things I do with it are 1) let it grow out, 2) have it trimmed to my collarbones once a year.

would you rather have brown, blonde, or black hair (not your natural)? I have black hair, but it would be interesting to go brown.

what's the shortest you've ever had your hair?  Up to below my ears.

have you ever had bangs?  I currently have bangs and am more than sick of them already ath this point.

if not, do you plan on ever getting them // if you have them, do you plan on growing them out?  Yeah, for the latter.

fantasies.

what do you fantasize about most often?  How my life could’ve turned out if we weren’t in a pandemic is definitely one of them. Would I have been able to get the same job? Remain in the relationship I used to be in and maybe have even gotten better at handling it? What cities could I have possibly already traveled to with my own money?

if your last fantasy came true, how happy would you be?  That would be traveling to South Korea, and I would be over the moon.

how much do you fantasize?  Mmm not very often since my work takes up most of my headspace. I usually daydream before bed, I think.

or am i the only one who does?  Definitely not.

have you ever told anyone who has been in your fantasy about it?  I mean, I just always tell Angela and Reena that I can’t wait to go to Korea with them. But I don’t fantasize about irls in the way that I think you mean.

would you rather fantasize about your ex or the hottest teacher in your school for the rest of your life?  I don’t ever want to think of my ex in that way anymore and I’m not in school.

do you often find yourself fantasizing about things/people you know you shouldn't?  I mean I will fantasize about certain celebrities but idk if that falls as a should/shouldn’t thing.

your ex.

who did the most damage in your preexisting relationship?  I think we both showed our worst weaknesses towards one another. But by the end of it, I will say she inflicted more damage onto me.

if you were/are single, would you have sex with them?  Um at this point, no. I barely think about sex anyway.

would/did you give this person your virginity? I did. My feelings for her today aside, I don’t regret it; I trusted her in that moment and I wouldn’t take that away from me.

do you still miss the good times with them?  Only in the sense that she used to be my best friend for an extremely long period of time and nearly all the great memories from my past were made with her. do you still talk often? how often?  Oh not at all. I haven’t kept in touch since the last day of 2020. did you make a big deal about the break up?  Yeah, I was definitely the more reactive one and it lasted for a couple of months. She bounced as soon as she got out of the relationship and I wish I had gotten the hint sooner.

how long did it take you to get over them?  Around 6 or 7 months. I really thought it would take so much longer.

if you could tell them one thing, what would it be:  I have nothing to say.

the song you're listening to/the song that's stuck in your head/any song you want to talk about

favorite lyric in the song:  “Where there is hope, there is hardship.”

what is the song?  It’s a song called Sea.

artist:  BTS.

how'd you get introduced to this song?  It was briefly played in one of their docu-series; I just can’t remember which one. Anyway, I instantly took a liking since it isn’t their usual sound, so I wanted to look it up; and it made a lot more sense when I learned it was initially meant to be a solo for one of the members.

if you could perfectly play this on any instrument, which instrument would it be?  Oh this song would be perfect on a violin.

would you have sex with the artist/anyone in the band? Why does everything always revolve around sex for some people?? < LOL same question but to answer it anyway, hahahahaha yes

can you relate to the lyrics?  Not in the manner in which it was written, but I do have my own interpretation of it that I am able to relate with a lot. The song definitely gets me emotional.

name a friend that you think would like it:  Angela, only because I know she already does like it hahaha. In general, though, K-Pop is still quite polarizing so idk if any of my friends outside of the K-Pop bubble would appreciate it.

would you rather have sex to this song or witness your dad singing it to your friends?  Uhm, maybe the latter because I think it would be adorable in a very dorky way

favorite restaurant.

how many times have you been to this place?  Countless times, but they were always with my ex. I need to revisit that place just by myself lol.

where is it located?  It has multiple branches across the metro but the one I used to frequent is the one at UPTC.

when was the first time you came here?  I have no idea but I think the first time was with my mom and siblings actually. A rough guess would be...2016? or maybe 2017.

what's the name of the restaurant?  Yabuuuu.

what kind of atmosphere does it have?  On the sophisticated sidde but still casual and homey, especially since it offers unlimited rice and sides and you can always just call on a server to dump a scoop of rice or lettuce or whatever when you’ve run out of them haha.

does it have a bar? No, but if I remember correctly they do offer a few alcoholic drinks.

have you ever been here for a birthday?  Yes, for my 21st birthday. I went with Angela.

what do you order when you're here?  I get their rosu set, which is katsu with a strip of fat.

are they famous for any drinks?  No.

have you ever gone here with your significant other?  Many times. It was our favorite restaurant.

if it shut down (if its a chain, the entire chain) permanently, how sad would you be?  That would soooo shitty. I’d order a meal everyday until it disappears forever lol.

would you work here?  No. I love the brand, but not so desperately so as to work for them haha.

favorite teacher

(I don’t really have one, but I’ll refer to the first good professor that popped in my head.)

how old is this person?  I have no clue but I would guess he’s anywhere in the mid-20s to early-30s range.

name:  HAHAHAHAHA I don’t actually remember his name anymore...oh no...but he was my prof in my international relations class.

are they married?  I know he has a boyfriend, not sure about his relationship status. That’s not of my business to know.

would you marry them?  Well, no.

do they have kids?  I’m fairly certain he doesn’t.

have you ever seen them out of school?  Not me but I know some of my college friends have. It’s how I heard he has a boyfriend lol.

what's so great about them that makes them your favorite?  He was clearly very passionate about our subject and he was able to explain concepts helpfully and in a way that anybody can appreciate, considering I wasn’t even majoring in the course he taught.

are they more laidback about teaching or strict?  Laidback.

do they run any clubs or coach any sports?  Not that I know of.

what's their personality like?  Approachable, friendly.

if they weren't a teacher, what do you think would be a good profession for them?  Political analyst.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

It Starts With A Cup

An Azula/The Girl Whose Head She Put Her Drink On fic.

All she ever wanted was a peaceful day on the beach followed by a wonderful party. What she got was much different. 

Remza doesn’t know what to expect of Chan’s party, she has heard of them. They, in fact, are the talk of the beach. And for the first time, the invitation is in her hands. She stares at it with a feeling of elation. She will finally be with the in crowd. She will finally get to join the lively banter with a tale of her own. 

She isn’t sure what sort of tale it will be though; perhaps she will be showered with compliments about her new outfit or maybe she will find a charming boy to spend the night with. Maybe, just maybe, she will kiss Chan himself. 

“Come on, Remza!” Hara shouts, “Stop daydreaming about the party and start getting ready for it!”

Remza isn’t particularly thrilled to have her musings cut short, but Hara is right, how embarrassing it would be to miss the party or turn up late for it because she was too busy fantasizing about how the night would go. “I’m coming!” She calls. 

She hustles to get into her party attire. It is a rather simple ensemble; a wine red tube top and a soft pink, almost white skirt held in place by a deeper red cloth belt. The belt is probably the most lavish part of her outfit, it’s buckle is made of faux gold. She snatches up a few sticks of makeup and sprints down the hall to join her friend. 

“Oh, Remza, you look so pretty!” Hara gushes. “All we need to do is add a touch of makeup and fix your hair and you’ll be the center of attention!”

“Thanks!” She smiles. “That pearl necklace really adds something to your outfit.”

Hara nudges her. “This is about you Remza. This is your first party, not mine.” She pauses and inspects Remza. “Hmm...so do you want your hair tied up in a top knot or do you want a ponytail?”

“Why not both!?” Remza shrugs. 

“Because that would look kind of silly?” 

.oOo.

“You look so perfect and pretty and…” TyLee gushes. 

“Yes, thank you, I know.” Azula nods. She does look quite fantastic if she must say! She smooths her hands over her skirt as TyLee finishes gathering some of her hair into a wavy ponytail. She can’t say that she has ever let her hair fall in waves. But she thinks that it does her favors. 

“She looks so cute, doesn’t she Mai!?”

“Sure, if you the sort of person that thinks that piranha-eels are cute.” Mai mutters. 

Azula pretends not to hear the remark. 

“Why so glum, Mai?” Azula asks as if glum isn’t Mai’s default mood. 

“Because Zuko is taking too long in the bathroom and I’ve been holding it since we got off of the boat.” 

“You should have gone in the ocean like everyone else on the beach!” Zuko shouts from in the bathroom. 

“Gross.” Azula mutters as Mai says, “this is why our relationship is deteriorating!” 

“Turn around.” TyLee instructs. Azula does so and the girl begins adding gloss to her lips. She ruffles Azula’s hair, “precious.” 

Azula gives a deadpan frown. 

“Oops.” TyLee puts a hand over her mouth. “Guess we’ll have to redo your hair!” 

.oOo. 

Remza’s stomach flutters. As Hara urges her to, “just go on and talk to him.” 

“I don’t know…” Remza trails off. 

“Rem.” Hara speaks firmly, “you have been eyeing him all night like he is one of those juicy lobsters at the concession stand. And this is the first time in like three hours that he doesn’t have a wholeass harem surronding him.” 

She is not wrong, Remza has to admit. They have been at this party for several hours now. They have been at the house longer than most people, she does believe that she and Hara were the second people to arrive. 

Chan’s slightly less attractive friend had made a point of saying, “Agni, these people are ungodly early this time.” Followed by a, “I haven’t even finished combing my hair.” And then a mumbled, “this is what happens when you give dorks a chance.” 

Remza had tried not to let this deter her. But in reality it is probably why she had missed not one but two openings to talk to Chan. 

“Come on, Rem. You’ve been waiting all day and I didn’t fix you up all nice and beautiful for nothing!”

She swallows hard and gives Hara a nod. “I’ll do it.” 

Hara returns the nod. “I’ll be waiting for you over there.” She points to the concession stand. “I’ve had my eye on a snack too, and it’s a real one.” It is a rather tasty looking coconut and pineapple cookie. 

“Alright, uh, save me a...food item.” 

“Go!” Hara hisses and gives her a small nudge. 

Remza swallows again as she makes her way over to the boy. He is the charming sort with a muscular build and a handsome smile. The way he carries himself is almost higher than life. And she is just Remza. Plain, and boring Remza. She can put on as much make up as she pleases and style it however she wants. She will still be just plain Remza. 

Currently Chan leans back against a wooden pillar, sipping his drink. 

He is alone, probably for the very first time that night. 

Remza takes a deep breath and rolls her shoulders back. If she want to have a shot at him, she is going to have to at least look confident. She strides up to him with the demeanor of the prettiest girls he has spoken to that night.

Chan catches sight over her and offers a friendly wave. Her heart quickens; she has an opening!

“Hi, Chan!” She begins. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you tonight.” She puts on her best cheerful smile. 

“Well, I’m glad that you’ve found the chance.” 

“I’m glad that I found the CHANce, too…” is what she would have said if she were an overly eager and socially awkward fire princess. But she is not, so instead she asks, “how has your night been,” as any normal Fire Nation citizen would. 

“Oh, it has been...uh...unusual.” 

“Unusual?” She inquires. She thinks that it will do her well to express interest in whatever he has to say, even if she finds the topic rather dull. It just so happens that she actually is interested in what the boy has to say, so that makes the task much easier. 

“So I there I was on the beach, right?”

“Mmm hmm.” Hara says with a nod. 

“I was just minding my own business, ya know?

She nods again, “Yeah.”

“And I was watching this kuai ball match, ya get what I’m saying. 

“And I saw this group of people. There were these two really hot chicks--one of them had really pretty eyes and nice hair and the other had a nice...uh...personality--and I really just had to talk to them, you know what I mean?

“I sure do.”

“But to get to them I also had to talk to their weirdo friends. Ya know what I’m talking about?”

She does not because he has not told her what was weird about these friends. Regardless she says, “mmm humm, I get you.” 

“Well one of them got really mad at me and I thought that he was going to beat me up for inviting the hot chicks to my party but not him, ya get me still?”

“Yeah!”

“Well this third chick who is also hot but, like, really kinda scary--if ya know what I mean--holds her hand out and tells him to chill and then she was all,” he softens his voice to a pitch that rather uncannily resembles the third kinda hot chick’s, “‘what about me and my brother?” He returns to speaking like Chan. “And I was like, ‘I guess you can come, but try not to be weird.’ Ya dig?”

She is not sure if he means that he had asked the hot chick if she dug or if he is again inquiring if Remza understands. Just in case, Remza says, “I dig.” 

Chan opens his mouth to resume when an obnoxiously loud laugh echos around the room. Everyone seems to take pause. Chan mutters something that she can’t quite hear that might have been, “aw geez, it’s her, isn’t it?” But she can’t be certain. She doesn’t think too much about it because Chan speaks up again.

“Well, yeah, so the two hot chicks, the weird hot chick, and the dude, who is actually also kinda hot show up. But they’re like suuuuper early. And I was like, no one else is here yet.” He pauses, leaving Remza room to laugh. Truthfully, she does not find this funny, but she laughs anyhow. He laughs too. “I know right!? Anyways so I start to give her a tour of the house but she stops me and tells me that I have a sharp outfit and then graphically describes people drowning. She added choking noises and everything. And then she said, ‘because it’s so sharp’. But her compliment was so long that I forgot what she was complimenting me on so I just said, uh thanks.” 

“Sounds, terrifying.” 

“Ha ha, yeeeaaaah.” He rubs the back of his head and leans against the pillar once more. She watches him toss back a drink. Until then, she hadn’t realized that just drinking could be so unbelievably sexy.

“Oh! And ya know what the worst part is?” He exclaims.

“What?”

She hears footsteps behind her, but elects to ignore them in favor of Chan’s deep and creamy voice. 

“I promised her that I’d give her a tour of the house tonight.”

Remza goes tense, it would seem that she doesn’t have much time.  She decides that is best to just get right to it. Whoever it is that has just approached is now standing much too close. She ignores this too, because she must pose an important question. “Sooo, I was hoping that we could…” She starts. 

“Chan, I am ready for a tour of the house.” 

Chan inhales very deeply and rubs the back of his head. “I’ll catch ya later?” He finger guns Remza and hands her his drink. 

Remza blushes, she is honored to be given the privilege of holding his drink. But just as this stranger has stolen away her chance with Chan, she has also stolen this brief moment of joy. She does not miss a beat, with an innocent smile, as though it is the most normal thing in the world, the stranger commits and absolute monstrocity. The most appealing and heinous social crime.

Her hand comes up in an elegant arc. At first, Remza thinks that she is about to get slapped. Instead she feels a weight atop her head. The hand withdraws and the stranger gives a self-satisfied, and admittedly adorable smile.She says nothing at all as she follows Chan away. And for a moment, Remza doesn’t even know what has happened. But then it settles in; the stranger has placed her cup on her head. 

It ignites a fury in Remza. And burning fury to match that of the firelord’s hottest throne room flame. Her face reddens as her anger simmers. This bizzare girl has stolen her chance with Chan! Stolen her chance with Chan and humiliated her by using her has a cupholder--it was fine when Chan did it because Chan’s muscles are glorious beings. She watches the pair disappear into the crowd and her rage reaches such a burning intensity that she may boil the lemonade on her head. 

She is, in fact boiling the lemonade.

It is steaming with her rage. 

It is on fire. 

She knocks it from her head with a yelp. 

.oOo.

“Is this your first time on Ember Island?” Chan asks. She almost doesn’t hear him, she is staring at his delicious biceps. 

“No. I used to come here years ago.”

“It's a great place, if you like sand.” His muscles flex as he tightens his hold on the wooden rails of the balcony.  She very nearly forgets to give the fake laugh that TyLee has advised. She takes extra caution not to laugh too loudly. She counted about twenty-eight people staring at her. “Yeah, it's like, welcome to Sandy Land!” He gives a wides sweeping gesture and she forces another laugh. But it is easier this time because he is lauging too and he has a cute laugh so she is laughing at his cute laugh and in the Capitol prison Iroh is laughing because ‘them punk ass guards ain’t gonna see it comin’.’ 

Chan stops laughing but Azula does not because she is once again distracted by his biceps. They contract beautifully as he makes more sweeping gestures to indicate the vastness of the sand on the beach. 

 “Your arms look so strong.”

“Yeah, I know.” He says and she knows that they are made for each other because that is exactly how she responded to TyLee when she called her the smartest, most beautiful, perfect girl in the world.  Chan blesses her with a full flex of his muscles.” She leans in and kisses him. 

“You're pretty.” 

The logical choice would be to respond with, “I know.” Instead she says, “Togetheyou and I will be the strongest couple in the entire world!” She increases her volume as she speaks. And to really drive her point home musters twin blue flames and pulls out a megaphone and shouts into it, “we will dominate the Earth!”

She thinks that the megaphone might have been overdoing it because Chan is looking at her as though a bird has just shat on him. Which might have happened because one did just fly by. That small flicker of hope dies out when he rubs his head and flashes her an awkward smile, “uh...I gotta go…” 

Azula, deciding that she will not let Zuko one up her at anything, including melodrama, quite literally flops onto the ground in defeat. 

.oOo.

“Sniff him out gurl! Sniff him out and win him back!” Hara’s advice echos in the back of her head. But Remza is not a scent bender nor is she a dog. So she cannot track him by scent. She has to rely on her eyes and ears, which is not good because she is woefully near-sighted. 

So woefully near-sighted that he walked right in front of her and she mistook him for Firelord Ozai. She could swear that she also spotted the Avatar at this party, but that would be preposterous. What would the odds of the Avatar and a member of the royal family being at this party.

(The Avatar is in fact there. But he is wearing hipster glasses so nobody recognizes him--except Mai, but she doesn’t care enough to bring it to anyone’s attention. She also isn’t telling anyone about the really big, hairy spider-wasp in the corner.)

Remza, after deciding that Chan is as lost as an Avatar trapped in an iceberg, makes her way onto the balcony for some fresh air. 

She makes it to the balcony but she does not find fresh air, for the stench of defeat is all too strong in this area. 

Remza inhales very deeply as she finds the source. 

It is, undoubtedly, the very same weirdo that placed a cup upon her head. 

The weirdo looks up with teary eyes and Remza tries to cling to her anger. But the weirdo looks like a kicked baby rabaroo.

Remza groans, “what’s wrong?” 

“I-I was doing so good.” She mutters. “I thought that I had a chance with Chan. I thought that…”

“Yeah, I did too! And you know what happened!?”

“What happened?” The weirdo asks. Remza blinks, it is as if she truly doesn’t know…

“You. You happened.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah…” 

The weirdo pulls her legs up to her chest and hugs her knees. She glares in the direction of the door and Remza can’t tell if she is furious or emotionally wounded. She thinks that it is a mix of both with anger taking a slight lead. 

The girl’s glare intensifies. 

The house catches fire. 

This has nothing to do with Azula’s feeling of rejection; Mai has finally informed Zuko of the spider in the corner. 

Remza sighs again, really she should point and laugh. Instead she finds herself slumping to the floor next to the weirdo. “Look, I know that he’s ridiculously gorgeous, trust me. I. Know.” She lets her mind wander for a moment, to a world of endless elegant hills that rise against a sunset horizon. Those elegant hills are Chan’s arm muscles, tanned by many days of lounging on the beach. “But you know who else is gorgeous?”

“Me?” The weirdo answers softly.

Remza goes deadpan, she is making this whole comforting thing really hard. But she is not wrong, Remza was, in fact, going to say, “you.” 

The weirdo peers up at her, waiting for the answer. Reluctantly and somewhat spitefully Remza confirms, “yes, you.” 

The girl’s face seems to brighten some, and for a heartbeat, Remza forgets about the cup incident. She smiles back. “You’re very pretty. Really weird, it’s kind of off-putting, but very pretty.”

“Pretty enough to ignore the really weird stuff.” 

Remza  looks the girl over; she is wiping at her eyes, eyes that are a vivid gold. Her hair sweeps gracefully over her shoulders. She has a pretty sweet tan. But she looks so small and sad. Small, sad, and annoyingly adorable. Remza pauses and inhales through her nose. “I guess.” 

This time the restored brightness shows through in a smile. Just like she hadn’t expected the girl to put a glass of lemonade on her head, she doesn’t see it coming when the weirdo throws her arms around her. 

Remza finds herself patting the other girl’s hair. “It’s gonna be okay. We don’t need him anyways.” And the more she thinks about it, the more she realizes it is true that Chan is no big loss. 

He only talks about himself anyways. Himself and his biceps which he has named Cha and Chi. This girl at least talks about interesting things like how she is going to bring glory to her family and nation, this really cool rock she found, how she’d almost drowned because she’d forgotten that she can’t swim, that she is the princess of the Fire Nation, and that she put a snapping turtle-duck down her brother’s swim trunks.

This story is so ridiculous that it eclipses the very brief mention of her royal status.

The weirdo nestles herself into Remza’s arms and, without thinking about it, Remza wraps them around her. She is very warm and, now that the stink of defeat is gone, she smells nice. Like a campfire with a dash of firelily. 

Chan on the other hand reeks of testosterone and pure BRO! 

Yes, Remza decides once and for all that this poorly socialized, absolute disaster of a human being has saved her. 

She kisses the girl’s forehead. 

.oOo.

Azula’s face flushes. It isn’t the impression she wants to leave on this girl. She does not want to appear sheepish and timid, she is a mighty and powerful dragon. A blazing and uncontrollable fire (much like the one crackling in Chan’s living room). 

But she has already blemished that image by letting the girl walk in on her weeping. So she resigns herself to the blush creeping over her cheeks. 

The girl seems to find that endearing anyways, so she will accept it, but only under the guise that it had been a meticulously done tactical courting move.

She may have lost Chan, likely to that girl with the silly pigtails--a shameful defeat really--but she can still have victory. Unlike the girl with the silly pigtails, she will rise from the ashes of her shame and humiliation. Because unlike the girl with the silly pigtails, she isn’t just a dragon. She is also a phoenix. And, like a phoenix, with the girl’s kiss, she has risen again. 

Azula closes her eyes and squeezes the girl in a rather tight hug. “Will you dominate the earth with me?” She inquires. 

The girl cocks her head, “what?”

“Will you...be my girlfriend?” She asks quietly, almost shyly. 

“I guess that I can be.” The girl smiles as she rubs Azula’s back. 

“And together, we will be the strongest couple in the entire world?” This time she says it softly, almost as a question. 

“Uh..sure?’

“We will dominate the earth?” She suggests, a little louder, more hopefully. 

“I guess that we can do that too.” The girl shrugs as she continues to rub small circles on Azula’s back. The princess softly purrs at the gesture. If this bothers the girl, she doesn’t indicate it. 

“Good.” Azula says, nuzzling her head against the girl’s chest. 

The girl kisses the top of her head. It reminds her of when they had first met. She remembers it very vividly; their eyes meeting and Azula deciding that she was the perfect person to set her glass upon. And just as Azula had set the cup upon her head, the girl now rests her chin upon Azula’s. 

“Can you hold this for me?” Azula holds out another cup. 

“Sure.” The girl smiles, she holds out her hands. But Azula places it on her head. 

“You’re the best.” 

.oOo.

Remza sighs again, what is she getting herself into? Whatever it is, the girl is staring at her with such delight and warmth that it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t even have the heart to move the cup and inform the weirdo that putting a cup on someone’s head isn’t appropriate social conduct. 

“I love you.” The girl mumbles and kisses the crook of her neck. 

Remza is well aware that they have only just met, but she lets the girl cup her cheek and stroke it lovingly. And despite everything Remza replies, “I love you too.”

A portion of Chan’s house collapses and the fire gushes out. They don’t notice, they are too busy staring into each others eyes as rays of moonlight fall over them.

[voyager-into-the-unknown]

The Dumb One

By PlanceGardener21 on AO3

Lance allowed Red to fly on autopilot as the Paladins soared through the void on their long journey home. He leaned back in his pilot’s chair, listening to his teammates’ comm chatter, but saying nothing. Allura was having a discussion with Pidge and Hunk about quintessence conversion efficiency and the necessity of allowing the lions to recharge. They would have to find a habitable planet to land on soon. Keith and Allura had some ideas about which one would be suitable for their needs. Pidge made some quick calculations which she sent to Black Lion, and Keith adjusted their route towards Earth, which they apparently weren’t going to reach anytime in the near future.

Lance sighed. What could he contribute to this conversation anyway? It was like they had forgotten he was even there. He thought about their recent encounter with the mysterious alien entity known to them only as Bob. The dumb one, Lance thought. That’s what he called me, and that’s who I am. Everyone seems to agree on that. He closed his eyes. He just wanted this war to be over. He missed Earth. He missed his family. He could feel the moisture welling up beneath his eyelids. He just wanted to go home.

“Lance!” Hunk practically shouted over his comm. “Are you with us, buddy? You’ve been really quiet lately.”

“Sorry. I must have been napping for awhile.”

“Are you sure you’re awake back there?” Keith asked. Red, the normally the fastest of the lions, had drifted to the rear of their formation.

“Keep up, Lonce,” Allura chided. “You don’t want to get left behind.” After all this time she still pronounced his name incorrectly. At first he thought it was cute, but now it was beginning to get on his nerves every time she said it. Lance pulled a face that he was glad the princess could not see.

That’s just great, he thought. Now, I’m the slow one, too.

“Lance?” Pidge’s voice was more gentle than usual for some reason. “Would you like to play Killbot in tandem with me? It would be a great way to pass the time.”

“How can I play when I’m over here? The game console is with you, Pidge.”

“I’ve downloaded the game’s code into one of Green’s auxiliary computers. I can send a copy of the program to one of Red’s auxiliaries and broadcast a signal link that will allow us to play together in real time. It’ll be fun.”

Lance was impressed. “That must have been a lot of work for you. Why did you go to so much trouble?”

Pidge hesitated. “Well...you did go through a lot to help me get the game in the first place. And even though it’s fun to play alone, I’ve always thought that it’s even more fun to play Killbot with you.”

Lance smiled crookedly in spite of the gloomy mood he had been in a few moments before. “Well, what are you waiting for? Send me the program!” He then grinned broadly in anticipation of another gaming session with Pidge. Somehow, She managed to bring him out of his foul mood with just a few words. He noticed that she did that a lot lately.

“Ugh, can you two put all of your gaming talk on a private channel.” Allura sounded annoyed.

“Will do!” Pidge replied cheerfully. There was a brief burst of static, and then he heard Pidge’s voice on a different channel. “Lance, you there?” He activated his viewscreen.

“Your favorite Paladin’s right here, Pidgey,” he said with a smirk while pointing finger guns at her. “I’m cuter than a yelmor, and I smell better than one too!” He really didn’t know what made him say that, but it made her giggle, so it must have been the right thing to say. It may have been his imagination, but he could have sworn that Pidge blushed a little as she smiled at him.

She typed quickly, then pressed a button. “Sending now. Let me know when it’s finished downloading to your auxiliary terminal. It will take several minutes.”

“Thanks for doing all this for me, Pidge. I really missed gaming with you.”

“l missed you too,” Pidge declared absentmindedly as she studied one of her data screens. “And it was the least I could do for you after what happened on board the pirate ship.”

“What do you mean?”

“Zethrid and Ezor were gleeful about the idea of torturing me, but you wouldn’t let them take me. Even though you were restrained, you fought to defend me, to keep me safe. What you did was selfless, reckless, and very brave. For the longest time I just wanted to say...” Pidge’s voice cracked. Her eyes were shining. “Thank you for that.”

Lance’s mouth fell open in stunned silence. After a long pause, he softly murmured, “No problem.” He watched as she wiped her eyes quickly and swallowed. Lance stammered, “I...uh...I really didn’t have time to think. I just reacted. Someone I care about was in danger, and something inside of me just...snapped. I had to protect you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hadn’t done something. Pidge, if they had taken you, if they had hurt you, I—“

She gave him a watery smile. “But they didn’t hurt me. Ezor beat you up instead.” Tears streamed down Pidge’s cheeks, and she wiped them away with the heel of one hand. “If Coran, Acxa, and the mice hadn’t arrived to rescue us, no telling what they might have done to you.”

“It’s all right. I only had a few bruises. I’m fine, really. And if I had to do it all over again, I would.” His face suddenly felt very warm.

She looked at him in astonishment, and then smiled shyly. She was definitely blushing this time, and looking at him with what could only be described as admiration. Selfless, she had called him. Brave.

“I guess you’re my hero, then.” The look she gave him was the softest he had ever seen from her. He was speechless.

It had occurred to him, and not for the first time either, that Pidge was growing up. She was taller now, her hair was longer, the subtle curves of her slight figure had become more obvious recently. There was no way she could pass for a young boy anymore. She’s too pretty to be a boy, he thought, and then suddenly felt warm all over. Where had that thought come from? Pretty. Delicate. Graceful. Brilliant. Sweet. Courageous. Determined. She was all of those things and so much more. And she saw him as a hero. He was her hero.

Hero...How many times had he hoped that he might be regarded as a hero by some attractive young woman? How much time had he spent in idle daydreaming about rescuing a fair damsel in distress who would fall in love with him? How long had he fantasized that one day a girl would look at him the way Katie Holt was looking at him at this very moment? Well, it was time to be really brave then. He looked back at her and said aloud what he had been meaning to tell her for the longest time.

“You—you’re my hero too, you know. You saved me. Remember when Bob put me in that vat of acid?”

“Don’t remind me. That arrogant little creep could have killed you, Lance. I was furious!”

“Yeah, I am not a fan of that guy either. I was so nervous that I couldn’t think straight. Every time I got an answer wrong I felt like I was letting the team down, and I could never forgive myself if we lost because of my stupidity.”

“You’re not stupid, Lance. Don’t ever call yourself that.”

“Why not? Everyone knows that I’m the dumb one. Bob kept saying it over and over, and he’s some kind of ancient being with godlike knowledge and power, so it must be true.”

“That is absolute nonsense. Bob doesn’t know what he’s talking about. And you’re not dumb! I can prove it to you.”

“Good luck with that,” he said skeptically.

“Are you familiar with Howard Gardener’s Theory of Multiple Intelligences?”

“No. Wait, multiple? Are you saying that there is more than one way to be smart?”

“That’s exactly what I am saying. Even before we became Paladins, I hacked the Garrison’s computers several times when I was searching for Matt and Dad. I saved nearly everything I could find that was classified, including data about Shiro, who was missing too, and Keith because of his connection to Shiro. I researched you and Hunk also, since the three of us were training together as a flight crew. I wanted to know everything there is to know about you two. I made a dossier on each member of our team.”

“Yeah, you told us. I mean, normal people do scary stuff like that all the time.” He rolled his eyes.

She glared at him. “Lance...”

“I’m just saying! Look, you got angry at Hunk for being nosy when he tried to get a peek at your diary. In a way, this is even worse!”

“I’m sorry! I was desperate to find my family, okay? And I wanted to know more about you and Hunk. I wanted to know if I could trust you. I entered the Garrison illegally, under a false identity, and sooner or later one of you would figure out that Pidge Gunderson was an alias. If Iverson found out that I was really Sam Holt’s daughter...”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry too. I know you were probably in a constant state of anxiety back then. I honestly thought there was something very weird going on with you all the time, even though I was too dense to figure out that you weren’t really a boy.”

She paused, looking thoughtful for a moment, remembering their time together as cadets. “You kept trying to be friends with me, and I kept pushing you away. I felt terrible about that, you know. I really wanted to be friends, but I was afraid you and Hunk would figure out who I really was.”

“It’s alright, Pidge. I understand why you did it. And I hope you noticed that we didn’t give up on you.”

“I know. You and Hunk were the first real friends I’ve ever had.” She smiled again, her eyes shining.

He smiled back at her. “You and Hunk are like, my favorite people in the entire universe, okay? You’re both so brilliant I often wonder why either of you would want an idiot like me around, unless it’s for comic relief.”

“Lance! Stop that! I already told you, you are not dumb, so stop saying it.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop. What was it that you were saying about multiple intelligences?”

“I have all of your files from our days at the Garrison: standardized test scores, pilot trainee stats, physical fitness data, psych profile, and MI survey results, as well as everyone else’s. We both scored pretty high in Visual/Spatial Intelligence.”

“You have to in order to be a pilot trainee.”

“And to be so great at video games. It’s also necessary to be a skilled sharpshooter,” she grinned at him. “I may be a genius in Logical/Mathematical, but your score in Bodily/Kinesthetic Intelligence is much higher than mine. You also scored really high in Linguistic, Musical, and especially Interpersonal Intellligences. That last one is my weakest area.”

“Wait a tic, are you saying that I’m smarter than you in some areas?!”

“Yes, without a doubt. The data is right here. I can send it to you...”

“No, I...” Lance looked shy all of a sudden. “It’s enough just to know that you think I’m not dumb. I mean, you’re one of the most intelligent people I have ever met, not to mention that you’re one of the people I love most in the entire universe, so your opinion means everything to me. I guess what I am trying to say is...thank you.”

Wait, did he just say love? Out loud?! Oh no, she heard that. That’s why she isn’t saying anything. Idiot. There was an awkward silence between them.

The computer console chimed softly, signaling the download was finished.

“You’re welcome, Lance,” she said carefully. “And I think you should know that even though you are dense as a neutron star about some things, you are brilliant as a supernova in many other ways.” She paused again. “I guess that’s why I love you so much, you Goofball.” She said all of this with a dazzling smile that made his heart beat faster.

Lance’s heart was racing for quite some time, and he could not stop smiling for the next varga or so. He and Pidge became absorbed in excitement of the video game, but in the back of his mind Pidge’s words reverberated through the cavern of his memory, echoing again and again without diminishing in intensity: Selfless. Brave. Hero. You’re not dumb. I love you.

I love you...I love you...I love you. His mind replayed those words over and over as they battled digital monsters. With each victory he felt more confident, more sure of himself. He whooped with unbridled joy when their teamwork took down one foe after another.

He loved her. He knew that now, and he had already wasted so much precious time flirting with girls who really didn’t matter to him. He vowed he wouldn’t do that anymore. They were fighting in an interstellar war that had been going on for thousands of years before they were even born. Who knew how much time they had left? Days, months, years, a lifetime?

A lifetime. He realized at that moment that he could spend a lifetime talking or gaming or just growing old with Pidge. He wanted that, if they survived this endless war. He wanted her.

When they finally landed on the planet that Keith and Allura were talking about earlier, he might be able to walk around with Pidge for a bit and enjoy the fresh air of a planet with a breathable atmosphere. He would try to hold her hand, of course. And, maybe, if he could find a place to be alone with her, he could tell her face to face how he really felt about her. He wondered if she would let him steal a kiss...

“Team, look alive!” Keith’s voice over the main comm channel broke Lance’s concentration. Pidge paused their game. “There’s a renegade Galra battlegroup straight ahead. Incoming!” Galra fighters swarmed around Keith, Allura, and Hunk like a hive of angry hornets.

Quiznak! Well, it was time to put that Visual/Spatial Bodily/Kinesthetic Intelligence to use. Red soared ahead with Green right behind him and Lance opened fire on the fighter drone who was tailing Black Lion. It burst in an explosion of color and light in front of him.

“Nice shooting!” Hunk exclaimed.

“Way to go, Sharpshooter!” Pidge cheered. “That was a genius move.” Was she teasing him?

Lance grinned as he bullseyed another fighter.

[rmnamjoons]

Sunshine: Chapter 1 [KNJ]

summary: You’ve been in love with your best friend and roommate Namjoon for years, convinced friendship is all you’ll ever have with him. The two of you are set to go on vacation with your and Namjoon’s meddling friends, who all constantly insist on trying to set the two of you up.

pairing: Namjoon x female reader

tags: eventual smut, fluff, slow burn, mutual pining, seemingly unrequited (but actually not at all unrequited) love, friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, the other members are the meddling friends

warnings for this chapter: accidental voyeurism, masturbation, dirty talk, mentions of past depression

word count for this chapter: 10.8k

[read on ao3] + my masterlist

a/n: This chapter mentions and describes Namjoon’s depression. I wrote it as having been worse in the past, and that he’s now on the road to recovery. If (short) descriptions or mentions of depression trigger you, please be careful reading if you choose to do so.

Also I characterized him as being a big eater, because he’s a big boy lol

You and Namjoon had been best friends since freshman year. You’d met each other at orientation; Namjoon was a philosophy and creative writing double major, while you were aiming for a degree in teaching English. The two of you took all of your English and core classes together, which was more than definitely what laid the foundation of the all-consuming crush you still had on him.

Neither of you were big party people. Your friend group, the six other boys, loved to have a good time, but you and Namjoon preferred to stay in, choosing to have movie nights together, cuddled up on one of your dorm room beds or, later on, on the couch in your shared apartment.

You had loved him from the day you met him. How could you not? He was tall, adorably handsome in a boy-next-door way, intelligent, funny, and, more than anything, so kind and sweet. You loved the way his deep dimples revealed themselves when he laughed and smiled wide, his eyes scrunching up in joy. You loved his deep voice that was especially gentle when talking just to you. You loved how he was nerdy and a little awkward and usually more mature and serious, but could be so silly, too. You loved all the little things only you knew about him: how ticklish he was, how he didn’t eat seafood because he loved sea animals that much, how he used to be self-conscious of his big thighs even though he’s perfectly in shape, how his depression had overwhelmed him during a large part of your sophomore and junior years, but he’d started seeing a therapist and was now well on the road to recovery.

You loved him more than anything, but he didn’t love you back. Not like you loved him, at least. You were best friends, and had been for almost six years now. You knew that he cared about you and loved you like a friend, he’d told you that enough times for you to be sure of that, but you wanted to be with him — romantically, sexually, forever — and he was oblivious, thank god. You didn’t know what you’d do if he ever found out about your stupid crush on him.

In your junior year, the two of you had moved into a two-bedroom apartment together. Your friends had teased you to no end, always insisting the two of you should just get it over with and start dating. You secretly loved when they talked like that, despite Namjoon blushing and covering his face. You loved the idea that others could see the two of you being together, and your friends most definitely did and always made sure to remind you.

Now, Namjoon was getting his masters in philosophy, and you were getting a masters in English. You both wanted to end up professors, and you sometimes fantasized about the two of you teaching in classrooms next to each other and meeting between classes, holding hands and stealing kisses. You loved to daydream about his plush lips on yours, murmuring sweet little domestic phrases, just asking about dinner or how your classes were going. It made your heart hurt, thinking about him like that. You knew he’d be such a good boyfriend.

Namjoon had had a girlfriend during senior year, two years ago, which had killed you. The girl seemed so sweet, but then after three months of you being in agony, Namjoon came home one night, heartbroken, flopping down on the couch and saying that he’d just found out that the girl had been cheating on him after agreeing to be exclusive. He’d teared up, something you hadn’t seen him do in quite some time, and you’d hugged him, stroking his hair as he held onto you, shaking as he cried.

He’d asked you if he was stupid to hope that someone would love him and only him, if he was silly for wanting something serious and “forever.” You’d assured him no, he wasn’t stupid or silly, and that there were loyal people all around him and he would eventually find someone who’d love him forever. You’d wanted so badly in that moment to say, Me! That person who will love you forever and be loyal to only you is me! but you knew it would be infinitely selfish to say that in that moment, when he was hurting.

You’d never gotten the courage after that to tell him how you felt, and now here you were, over a year and a half later, still living together as just friends. Best friends, but nothing more.

You laid in bed on your lazy Saturday morning. Namjoon also had the day off, you recalled. You checked the time, seeing it was only nine thirty, and figured he had to still be asleep. The two of you had stayed up late the night before, unwinding after making it through your midterms week.

You stretched before standing up, deciding now was as good of a time as any to make some breakfast. You were feeling crafty, deciding as you brushed your teeth and got ready that you were going to attempt to make yourself and Namjoon some pancakes.

You were stirring in the chocolate chips when you heard Namjoon’s door open, and the noise made you freeze in place. You hadn’t thought he was going to wake up this early, and you quickly looked down at yourself, only wearing very short shorts, a tank top with no bra, and an open, thin silk robe that went down to your knees.

Dropping the spoon in the bowl, you jumped and tied your robe closed, hoping to at least spare him the fact you were very braless.

He walked around the corner and you glanced over, seeing him rubbing his eyes. He was wearing just boxers and a white t-shirt, his dark brown hair a little mussed up from sleeping well, his black glasses on his face slightly crooked.

“Mmm, waffles? Pancakes? What’re you making, sunshine?” His voice was deep, warm, and grumbly in the mornings, and it made your heart melt. You smiled at his nickname for you — he’d come up with it during junior year, saying he was the moon and you were his sun, and he called you variations of that occasionally, making you fall in love with him more and more every single time.

“Pancakes,” you confirmed, back to stirring again, careful not to turn toward him. You knew your silk robe wasn’t much of a barrier; you’d been around him braless plenty of times, but never in such thin clothes.

“Smells good,” he murmured, and you felt Namjoon’s warmth behind you now, his hand on your shoulder as he peered over you at what you were making.

“I haven’t even started cooking it yet,” you laughed.

“Can I try the batter?” he asked, and you glanced back at him, eyebrow raised. He put out his bottom lip in a pout, batting his eyes at you.

“It’s not going to taste very good, but sure,” you said, holding up the spoon for him to take. Instead of taking it from you, though, he just leaned in and licked the spoon, closing his eyes as his tongue widened to lick the entire width of it, a teasing smile on his lips like he thought he was being funny.

“You’re gross,” you laughed, fighting not to bite your lip as you watched him lick his perfect plush lips where a little batter had accidentally spread.

“Tastes fine to me,” he said, giving you a look like he was proud of himself. “And it’s not gross. We eat raw cookie dough all the time.”

“That is different and you know it,” you defended, rinsing the spoon off in the sink before grabbing a small ladle for moving the batter to the frying pan currently heating up.

“Now I’m just thinking about cookies. Can you make cookies later today, sunshine? Pretty please?” Namjoon leaned against the opposite counter behind you, watching as you scooped the first batch into the pan, a soft sizzling sound filling the air.

You weren’t surprised by his request. Namjoon’s sweet tooth was insatiable — you’d once even caught him eating a spoonful of straight sugar. He was half the reason you’d loaded the pancakes with chocolate chips.

“Depends,” you said slowly, hiding your smile, still not turning around to face him as you worked. “What’s in it for me? Seems a lot like me just cooking for you all day.”

“We can get delivery for lunch and I’ll pay for it, and I’ll do all the dishes today,” he offered, and you felt like that was more than a fair trade. Besides, you would always cook for him, even without anything in return. You loved doing things like this for him; it gave you little moments where you could pretend his excited gratitude was more than just friendly.

“Deal.”

“Ah, you’re the best!” You felt him come up behind you, wrapping his arms around your stomach and squeezing. You had been in the middle of starting to flip the first pancake, which you somehow managed to not drop as you jumped slightly from his surprise hug. You felt his large, firm body pressed into your back, his big arms squeezing you, his nose pressed in against the skin behind your ear. You were so surprised, unable to even register it was happening until it was over.

He let go of you just as quickly as he’d grabbed you, stepping back. You glanced over your shoulder at him and saw him beaming, his warm smile spreading to you as well.

The two of you ate your breakfast together at your little kitchen table. Namjoon was cheerful and chatty, telling you how good your pancakes were, just as he always did when you cooked something for him. He was a big eater, and you did really enjoy cooking, so you were more than happy to cook for him whenever he wanted. Despite his best efforts, he was dreadful in the kitchen, managing to burn or break everything he touched even under careful supervision. You had originally wanted to teach him how to be self-sufficient, worried you’d moved in with a man who didn’t know anything about taking care of himself. You very quickly learned that he was perfectly self-sufficient and tidy, cleaning around the house regularly without having to be asked. It was just cooking. He couldn’t do it to save his life. You often traded chores — Namjoon offering to clean more in exchange for more of your cooking. You couldn’t complain about that. You enjoyed cooking, you enjoyed getting to eat more meals with Namjoon, he was extra sweet when you cooked his favorites, and you didn’t have to clean as much.

Namjoon ended up eating about triple the pancakes you did. Afterwards, he was leaning back in his chair, a drowsy look on his face as he rubbed his stomach with one hand.

“You look like a cartoon character who ate way too much,” you teased, watching him fighting to keep his eyes open.

“I feel like a cartoon character who ate way too much,” he grumbled. He stood, taking his plate to the kitchen, and then stumbled into the living room and collapsed facedown on the couch, letting out a long groan.

“Still want cookies? I could whip some up right now,” you said, just to hear him let out another groan.

You put your plate in the sink too. You went out to the living room and lifted Namjoon’s feet, sitting down and letting his legs fall across your lap, resting your hands on the backs of his calves.

You looked up at him, letting yourself for just a second check out his cute little ass in his boxers. You hadn’t seen so far up the back of his thighs before now, and you had to say you loved the view. His legs were so muscular, his thighs so thick — how could a man just walk around, existing looking like this?

“Y/N, don’t let me eat that much ever again,” he grumbled, pulling you from your thoughts.

“You always say that, and then the next time rolls around and you say, ‘No, it’s fine, sunshine, I know how much I can eat,’ and then this just happens again,” you said, teasing him, bringing your voice down as deep as you could for your impression of his voice.

“Ugh,” he groaned, twisting to lay on his back instead, throwing his arm across his eyes. “Your cooking’s too good, and you know I don’t have self control with your food. That’s what you’re here for.”

“To be your self control?” you said, and you looked over at his body — his t-shirt had ridden up slightly, showing off a thin line of his stomach between his shirt and boxers. One of his large hands rested on his stomach, and your mouth was all but watering just looking at the thick vein on top of it, his long fingers, how big he was…

“Exactly,” he said, and your eyes snapped back up to his face as he moved his arm away, looking at you now. Despite his grumbling, he looked happy, contented. This was one of your favorite of his habits — he talked and talked and talked, very occasionally sounding like he was complaining, but more just saying every thought that entered his head. You heard him mumbling to himself a lot around the house, and you loved it. In your eyes, he was too cute for words.

“I’m wanna nap,” Namjoon said.

“Didn’t you just wake up?” you asked, laughing at him.

“Yeah, but now I’m so full and lethargic, I just wanna sleep. We woke up too early.” He was pouting again, like a child, his eyes starting to droop closed, but he smiled when he saw you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Suit yourself,” you said, lifting his legs again to let yourself get up.

You walked into the kitchen again and turned on the sink, getting started on all the dishes you’d dirtied making your big breakfast.

“No,” Namjoon grumbled, and you heard him roll off the couch and onto the floor, moving clumsily toward you. “Don’t do the dishes, that’s my job.”

“I thought you were going to sleep,” you said, not looking back at him as you picked up the sponge and put a dollop of dish soap on it.

“I can do the dishes after I sleep. Don’t do them, Y/N.” He tried to take the sponge from your hand, but you moved it away from him.

“Why? Are you afraid I won’t make you cookies if I do the dishes?” You laughed as he tried to grab the sponge again. Turning away from him, you held the sponge at arms length away from him as he tried to reach around you and take it.

“Don’t threaten my cookies,” he said, and he eventually gave up on your game, choosing instead to grab you around your waist and pull you to him, now easily able to reach the sponge.

“Hey!” you exclaimed as he took it from you, now holding it above his head as you tried to reach up for it to take it back. You jumped, trying to grab the sponge, not realizing that your robe had fallen open.

You saw the soapy water rolling down his arm and the way he bit his lip. You knew he was ticklish and wouldn’t last with his arm up like that, sudsy water running down the sensitive skin of his arm.

Instead of jumping, you tried playing dirty. You went for his armpit, since his arm was up, after all, and tickled him. He gasped, unfortunately both bringing his arm down and squeezing the sponge in his fist in his reaction to being tickled, covering your front in soapy water in the process.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he laughed, and you were laughing too, the situation too funny to you. He put his hands up as if he wanted to help, his eyes on where the water had dripped, but he stopped as if catching himself, pulling his hands back quickly. You looked down to where he’d been looking.

Your robe had fallen open when you’d jumped, and the soapy water was glistening on your chest and through your thin tank top. It wasn’t exactly warm in your apartment right now, and the cold water was not helping, so you knew he could very clearly see your nipples through the shirt. You quickly closed the robe in front of you, feeling your whole body blushing.

Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the ground, murmuring another, “Sorry,” quietly, apologizing for looking.

“It’s fine,” you said, unable to look up at him, too. You turned around as you quickly tied the robe closed, much tighter than before, making sure to double-knot it.

Namjoon didn’t say anything else, but you heard him move and turn on the sink. When you looked back at him, you saw him starting to wash the pan you’d used to make the pancakes. His cheeks and ears were a deep shade of red, and he glanced your way when you turned around, but didn’t make eye contact.

While Namjoon washed the dishes, you went into your bedroom and put on a sports bra and then a t-shirt. You figured you’d traumatized your poor roommate enough for one day.

After that, the awkwardness of that moment quickly melted away as the two of you went through the rest of your Saturday together. Since midterms were over, you were drawing ever-closer to the spring break trip your friend group had convinced the two of you to go on. You and Namjoon agreed to go shopping tomorrow for any last minute things you’d need, like snacks and sunscreen.

The eight of you had rented a four bedroom beach house in a cheesy overly-touristy town, and were set to start out on the seven hour drive very, very early next Saturday morning. You had suggested that you all skip classes the day before, since most classes were cancelled anyway, but Jin, halfway through med school, said there was no way he would skip even a single class, so you all stayed set leaving on Saturday.

You and Namjoon were going in one car, while Jin, Yoongi, and Hoseok were in one, and the youngest three, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook were in another. You had briefly discussed renting a van to drive down all together, but thought it would be wise to have multiple vehicles down there, to allow you all to be able to split off and do different things if you wanted. You were also thankful for being able to spend a lot of time with just Namjoon. You weren’t sure if you were capable of surviving a seven hour car ride with any of the younger boys, especially all of them together.

Namjoon seemed very excited about the trip. You wondered if he’d forgotten about the fact that the two of you had agreed to share a room. The argument presented by the other boys was that a five bedroom beach house was so much more expensive, and the two of you already lived together anyway, so who cares about sharing a room for a week. When Taehyung had booked the beach house, he’d assured you that you all had rooms with two double beds. So it would be fine.

That afternoon, as you started mixing together Namjoon’s favorite cookies, you briefly let your mind wander to what Namjoon would look like in just his swim trunks. You’d seen him shirtless before, but that was years ago, before he’d really started working out. He wasn’t a bodybuilder type by any means and was still the lanky boy you’d fallen in love with, but you saw the way his shirts were fitting him nowadays, how his arms and chest filled them out so well and his shoulders had become so broad. And you knew what he looked like in his thin, tight white shirts, how his chest had become so defined and almost beefy. You nearly started drooling, just thinking about his toned chest, his wide shoulders, what he’d look like if his swim trunks were low on his hips, showing off his lower stomach, his body dripping wet and glistening in the sun…

You sighed. You couldn’t do this. You needed to not think about him, because thinking about him like that just led to you wanting him when you knew you could never have him.

About five minutes after you put the cookies in the oven, Namjoon came out of his room, holding a book with his finger between the pages marking his place, his glasses falling down his button nose.

“Do I smell cookies?” he said, his smile playful and knowing.

“Yes, and I left you the bowl and spoon, if you want,” you said, motioning toward it on the counter.

“Oh, I love you,” he said, stepping forward quickly and putting his book down, picking up the bowl and spoon and getting started, running his fingers along the bowl and bringing cookie dough up to his mouth.

You smiled as you watched him. How had you gotten so lucky? Even just being his friend and roommate, you felt blessed to be able to be near him and see him in his cute moments like this. As he ate the cookie dough, he smiled up at you, closing his eyes and scrunching his nose.

“With all the sweets we’re eating today, we should make tomorrow a gym day,” you joked, leaning back against the counter.

“We could go on a hike, since it’s warmer now,” he offered. “I heard the trail at Rock Creek opened for the season.”

“Maybe we should take it easy on the hiking so close before vacation,” you said, smiling. “We could do something more chill, like the flat nature trail by the wharf, or swimming.”

“Hey, you’re the one that wanted to work out,” he said. “I’m happy gaining weight from chocolate chip cookies and pancakes.”

“Surely there’s a happy medium,” you laughed, reaching over and running a finger along the bottom of the bowl, collecting some cookie dough before bringing your finger to your mouth.

“Nope,” he said, his mouth full. “It’s cookies or hiking. No in between.”

You reached forward and pinched at his side, making him writhe and twist away.

“I thought you learned your lesson earlier about tickling me,” he laughed, stepping back out of your reach.

“I was just wiping my finger on your shirt,” you said, holding up the finger you’d used to pinch him, which you’d also just licked cookie dough off of.

“Blegh,” Namjoon whined, though you could still see his smile. He set the bowl down and licked his palm and started to reach out for you, and you took a step back, your eyes wide, still grinning.

“Don’t even think about it,” you said, putting up your hands in defense, but he moved forward, chasing you around the kitchen and out into the living room.

You ran out toward the couch, laughing as you tried to get away from him. When he caught you, he pulled you back against him, falling on the couch and pulling you down with him so that you laid across his lap.

“Caught you,” he said, breathing hard from his exertion. He smirked as he rubbed his hand he’d licked around your shirt over your stomach, which immediately shifted into him tickling your stomach as you gasped and giggled, writhing in his arms.

“No!” you laughed, closing your eyes and trying to twist away.

“This is payback!” He tickled your stomach ruthlessly, holding onto you when you instinctively tried to twist away from him, though your heart was soaring right now.

“I made you cookies!” you cried, and that made Namjoon stop and seem to consider for a moment.

You took the brief pause as a moment to catch your breath. You were gasping, still laying across his lap, and looking up at him you were certain he’d never looked more beautiful to you.

“You’re right,” Namjoon said, nodding. “How can you ever forgive me?”

“You have to do the dishes forever,” you said, crossing your arms. You knew you must look ridiculous, laying in his lap like this and attempting to be serious, but you tried to ignore that.

“I already do all the dishes. Try again.”

“Hmm… You’ll have to buy me something nice while we’re at the beach.”

“Fine,” he said, and he pulled you up, turning you and setting you upright on the couch. “Set your price.”

“Five hundred dollars,” you said, smiling, and Namjoon snorted.

“Set a better price.”

“Okay, okay. How about like twenty dollars?” You batted your eyelashes at him and pouted, and he looked down, almost looking bashful with his small smile.

“I’m willing to go a little higher than that, but okay. I’ll let you pick out whatever you want, to repent for my sins.”

“We’ll have to do that when we’re off on our own, otherwise the boys will see and think you’re my sugar daddy, and they will never let us live that one down,” you said, moving to sit crosslegged. The two of you were still sitting close to each other, your knee against his leg.

“Oh, god, you’re right,” he said, making a face. “They still haven’t let us forget about that Halloween where I was a vampire and you were a vampire victim. What were we thinking?”

“I thought it was a fun idea! Halloween is gory and fun!” you defended, and Namjoon laughed.

“Your outfit did not help,” he said, and you smiled, remembering the white low-cut dress you’d worn and how you’d covered your neck in fake blood that had been way runnier than you’d expected and accidentally dripped down your chest. You’d thought it was fun and that you looked like the classic Dracula victim from old horror movies, while Namjoon had dressed as a stereotypical vampire, with the cape, fake teeth, his dark hair slicked back, fake blood coming out of the corners of his mouth. But your friends, especially the younger boys, had taken your costumes as written confessions of the two of you secretly fucking. Maybe you had secretly wanted people to think you were together, but that didn’t mean you wanted the boys to tease you and Namjoon to no end.

“What are you trying to say about my outfit?” you said, crossing you arms in fake offense. You remembered Taehyung had said you’d looked like a porn star, to which Namjoon had smacked the back of his head and made him apologize. You knew your outfit had made an impression, to say the least.

“You looked like the damsel on the cover of an old horror romance novel,” he tried to defend, though you weren't sure where he was going with that. “The kids were already excited about us dressing like a couple, and on top of that you wore something you normally wouldn’t, which got them all excited. I think a few of them have crushes on you.”

“I think a few of them have crushes on you, too,” you combatted. You were very convinced that Jin and Jungkook were both in love with Namjoon, though that may just be you projecting your own feelings onto them.

“Oh, come on. Nobody has a crush on me,” Namjoon said, rolling his eyes.

You threw a pillow at him. “No being mean to yourself allowed in this house,” you said, making him laugh.

“I’m not being mean, it’s just the truth,” he said, but you could see a sadness in his eyes.

Namjoon cleared his throat, sitting up straighter, now hugging the pillow you’d thrown at him.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked. You let him change the topic, since he was clearly uncomfortable with the one you had been on.

“You mean you want something besides chocolate chip cookies?” you said, fake-gasping.

“As good as they are, I really want something savory. How about Chinese? I’ll get it this time.” Namjoon seemed much more relaxed now already, which you were grateful for. You knew he could be kind of sensitive sometimes, turning in on himself and withdrawing when he felt bad.

“Takeout again? And you already paid for my lunch. My my, are you made of money?” you teased.

“You’re right. The seven dollars I’d spend on your dinner would absolutely break me,” Namjoon laughed, and you watched as he stood up, walking over to the kitchen where the two of you kept takeout menus. “Besides, we can’t go grocery shopping so close before a trip. It would all go to waste.”

“We’re not leaving for another week!” you called back, laughing at his attempt at logic.

“Too late, I already picked up the menu,” he said, walking back over with the menu to your and his favorite Chinese place. “Do you want your usual?”

“Yes, please, and thank you, Joonie,” you said, closing your eyes and giving him a big smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, and he ruffled your hair as if you were a child before dialing up the restaurant on his phone.

You loved him so much, sometimes you couldn’t stand it. The two of you hadn’t spent a whole day together like this in so long, and you’d seen even less of each other than normal during midterms. You’d missed him, missed having time together like this.

As Namjoon made the call for your dinner to be delivered, you pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your legs as you watched him pacing. You were so comfortable together. Dating him, being with him, would be so easy. So few changes would happen — just adding sex and more affection to your already wonderful relationship. You wanted him so badly, your heart yearned for it, for him.

You wondered what kind of world you’d have to live in or what version of yourself you’d have to be for Namjoon to want you. A man like him would never want you. You were smart, but he was a genius. You were okay looking, but he was gorgeous. You tried to be a nice person, but he was so genuinely kind-hearted and good. He was just better than you. You knew he deserved the best of the best in all aspects of his life, and you wanted to give that to him, but you couldn’t help feeling like he deserved better than you. It didn’t matter anyway, because he’d never like you.

After Namjoon ordered your food, you got the cookies out of the oven and started a movie. You couldn’t believe he’d never seen The Little Mermaid, and you’d teased him, saying he’d love it because it had a crab character. You weren’t very far in when your meals arrived, and Namjoon paused the movie, saying he didn’t want to miss anything.

Namjoon ended up loving the movie, just like you knew he would. He always got so invested in movies, it was adorable.

The two of you sat on the couch, his arm thrown over the back of it, resting just above your shoulders. Your legs were bent, your knees resting on Namjoon’s legs. You weren’t quite cuddling, but to you, this was everything.

At the end of the movie, Namjoon put his hand on your knee.

“That was fun. I can’t believe I hadn’t seen it,” he said, and you could only think about his big hand on your bare skin.

“I knew you’d like it. You love silly things,” you said, smirking.

“Yeah, that’s why I love you, sunshine,” he teased right back, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Wow,” you said flatly, pretending to be offended, but you couldn’t stop repeating what he’d said over and over in your head. You knew he’d been joking, but god, it felt good to hear him say those words.

“Want to watch another one?” Namjoon asked, picking up his phone. “It’s only nine. We could make it a mini-Disney marathon.”

“Sure,” you said, nodding. Your brain wasn’t working too good right now, so maybe picking another movie instead of talking to him would be a good idea.

“Is there one you haven’t seen?” he said, now scrolling through the on-demand list of Disney movies.

“I think I’ve seen most of them, but I haven’t seen any of the older ones in a really long time,” you said, attempting to focus. That’s why I love you, sunshine. Oh, god.

“I don’t think I’ve seen Cinderella,” he said, stopping on that one. “I mean, I’m sure I did when I was little. I don’t really remember it though, outside of pop culture, obviously.”

“That sounds good,” you said quickly, nodding eagerly. I love you, sunshine. You kept repeating what he’d said, hearing his deep rumbly voice in your head again and again. Why were you acting like this? You’d heard him say that before, though never with his petname for you at the same time. Why did it feel so much better now, cuddled up with him like this?

“I’m gonna grab some cookies real quick,” he said, hopping up.

“Okay,” you said, your voice dazed.

While he was in the kitchen, you picked up your phone from the coffee table, checking it for the first time in hours.

The group chat you had with your friends had blown up while you and Namjoon had been off on your own. You tried scrolling back to the beginning, but gave up halfway through and started just reading whatever and hoping you’d figure it out from the context.

7:44 - Taetae: i bet they’re fucking asdlkfjdslkj

7:46 - Taetae: i just tried texting both of them individually and neither answered. they Fuckin

7:46 - JK: joon’s finally giving it to her 😩🍆💦

7:46 - Yoongi: please remove me from this group chat

7:47 - Chimchim: guys what if they’re dead

7:47 - Taetae: joon’s giving his sunny THAT D

7:48 - Yoongi: i am begging you all to stop

7:49 - Chimchim: guys i’m really worried, what if something happened

7:50 - JK: oh we already know what’s happening

7:50 - Hobi: leave them alone guys, mom and dad deserve a break too

You started scrolling down through the chat faster, just skimming. You could see that when you’d finished your movie and Namjoon had checked his phone, he’d finally texted them and put Jimin out of his misery.

8:54 - Joonie: jimin, we’re fine. and no we’re not fucking

8:54 - Taetae: IT LIVES

8:54 - JK: finally stopping for a break, tiger? i’m sure y/n needs one, you’ve been gone a while 😉

8:55 - Joonie: shut up

8:55 - Chimchim: aww he’s sensitive

8:56 - Joonie: says the guy who spent the last hour crying because his friends didn’t text him back fast enough?

8:56 - Taetae: OOF 🔥

8:56 - Hobi: goddamn joon

With that, you had caught up, though you’d skipped more than eighty percent of the chat. You had a feeling you hadn’t missed much.

8:59 - y/n: awww did little baby jimin get his feelings hurt?

8:59 - Chimchim: not you too mom!!!

8:59 - Taetae: 😭😭😭

You heard Namjoon snort in the kitchen as he read your text. He came back out then, carrying a plate he’d piled up with cookies that he laid on his legs as he sat down right beside you.

Namjoon took the remote and started the movie, and leaned back, taking a picture with his phone of the plate of cookies, the Disney logo on the screen, and both his and your legs propped up on the coffee table, and then sent that to the chat.

8:59 - Joonie: this is what we were doing, by the way

9:00 - JK: MOM AND DAD ARE HAVING DATE NIGHT

9:00 - Hobi: if you meant for that to make them stop making fun of you guys, you do not know them at all

9:01 - Taetae: you guys are too cute i’m actually throwing up

9:02 - Yoongi: aww, congrats to the happy couple

9:02 - y/n: wow

“Did you mean for that to help our case?” you laughed, scrolling back up to the picture he’d sent.

“I thought it would,” he said, shrugging. “We’re not doing anything bad, like they were saying.”

“We’re gonna hear about this one a lot next week,” you said, laughing as you tossed your phone aside.

The movie wasn’t very long, but about halfway through, you caught yourself dozing off. You snuggled in beside Namjoon, leaning on his arm.

God, he was so comfortable, and so so warm. You’d almost forgotten that he was like a furnace, the heat radiating off of him and making you even drowsier. Snuggling with him on the couch felt so natural; even in your mostly asleep state, you felt so happy and contented, knowing you were doing something rare and special, cuddling with him like this as you drifted off to sleep.

A while later, you were vaguely aware the movie was ending in the background. You suddenly became much more aware, however, when your sleepy brain realized you were hugging Namjoon’s arm like a teddy bear, possibly drooling on his sleeve.

You shifted away from him, rubbing your eyes with your hands.

“Well, hello, Sleeping Beauty,” Namjoon said, looking over at you as he turned off the television.

“Wrong movie,” you mumbled, not able to fully open your eyes yet.

Namjoon set the mostly empty plate of cookies on the coffee table and stood, turning to you and offering both hands to help you up. You took them, and he pulled you to your feet just a little too fast, making you wobble.

Namjoon put his arm around your waist, steadying you.

“Easy there, Bambi,” he said, and you wanted to hit his arm.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you mumbled, hiding the small smile now on your face.

“Okay, okay,” he said, and he stepped around the couch, carrying the cookie plate to the kitchen. You watched him as he walked, admiring the movement of his hips, the way his muscles in his legs moved, the large expanse of his back and wide shoulders.

You decided that tonight was going to be special.

Grabbing your phone and telling Namjoon goodnight, you headed straight to your room. You were still sleepy, but you wanted to do something that would help you sleep even better.

You locked your door and went to you underwear drawer, pulling out your trusty vibrator. You hadn’t used it in weeks, but what the hell, why not treat yourself? Namjoon had been extra sexy today, so you deserved it.

You took off your shorts and laid down on your bed. Letting your eyes fall closed, you thought about Namjoon’s large hands, his long fingers, the thick vein on the top of his right hand that you always loved to stare at. You touched your breasts, squirming slightly as you imagined it was his big hands instead of your small ones, his body on top of yours as he touched you.

You trailed your hand down your stomach, letting your fingertips trail over your skin as you bit your lip in anticipation. Ducking your hand down below your panties, you rubbed two fingers around your clit, already wet just from being near Namjoon all day and thinking about him like this.

You thought about his plush lips and the way his jaw moved when he ate. Fuck, how could a man look that good eating? You always wished you could push his plate onto the floor, lay down on the table in front of him with your legs spread open, and tell him to keep eating.

Thinking about his tongue, you slid your panties off and turned your vibrator on.

Living with your parents, in a dorm with thin walls, and then here with Namjoon, you knew how to be quiet. You sometimes struggled when you used your toy, though, especially when you were worked up thinking about Namjoon and his long fingers and big soft lips, or trying to imagine what his cock looked like.

You let out a small whimper as you slid your vibrator inside your pussy. It wasn’t very big, but you slid it in and out while rubbing your clit, and you kept your eyes closed tight, thinking about vague parts of Namjoon’s body — his warm, expressive eyes, his wide shoulders, how damn big he was, his deep honey voice.

“Namjoon,” you hummed, just barely audible, and you raised your hips off the bed, fucking yourself on your vibrator as if you were moving underneath him.

You tried to imagine what his cock would look like, feel like. You knew he was big — you’d seen him in his light gray sweatpants enough times to know that much. Besides, he was by far the tallest in your friend group, and with those big hands and his big feet, he had to at least be proportional. You imagined his thick, velvety cock pounding into you, stretching you out, fucking you so hard and you let out a whimper, pushing your vibrator deeper, searching out your g-spot as you moved your fingers on your clit faster and harder.

You didn’t last long. Thinking about that morning, when he’d hugged you from behind and tickled you and everything else he’d done, you imagined him bending you over your kitchen table and that made you fall over the edge, gasping silently, the vibrator quickly becoming way too much stimuli for your sensitive body.

You took in deep, shaky breaths, still slowly moving your fingers around your clit, drawing out your pleasure.

You let yourself relax for a few moments before getting up to go to the bathroom and clean up. You slid your shorts back on, made sure nothing looked too out of place, and then unlocked your door and went back out into your and Namjoon’s shared space, on your way to the one bathroom you had in the apartment.

It would be just your luck that Namjoon had decided to take a shower.

You sighed, turning to go back to your room to wait for him to finish, but just as you started to turn away, you heard him.

Namjoon was moaning.

You raised your eyebrows about to your hairline, your lips parting as you realized exactly what he was doing in your shared shower. His moans were steady, almost as if with every exhale. He sounded like he was close.

You felt a new rush of wetness in your pussy, your mouth falling open as you listened to his absolutely obscene sounds. You were pretty sure you could go back into your bedroom and go for round two right now. But you didn’t. You hated yourself for it, but you were frozen in place, listening to his sounds through the thin bathroom door.

You took a small step closer, not quite pressing your ear to the door. You could almost hear the sound of his fist moving hard on his length, his pace brutal at this point as his moans echoed off the tile walls over the sound of the running water. Fuck, why did he moan so loud? He was killing you, he sounded so good. You squeezed your legs together where you stood, your breath catching in your throat.

“Mmm, baby, just like that…” Namjoon’s deep voice groaned.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Was he imagining someone? You weren't sure you could bear to listen to this; the jealousy would kill you if you knew for a fact he was actively fantasizing about other people. You liked to live in your fantasy world, frozen in time, where Namjoon wasn’t interested in anybody and nobody besides you was interested in him. You knew he’d never want you, but if you had nothing to spark your jealousy, you were happy enough.

He kept moaning, and you bit your lip.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so fucking good…”

Your heart might’ve just stopped. What the fuck?

“Mmm, oh… Good girl. Fuck, baby, I’m so close…” He kept moaning, his deep voice raising slightly in pitch, his breathing coming faster. “Y/N…” He stuttered out your name as he came, letting out a long groan, his breathing ragged. He sounded like he’d cum hard, and you could just imagine him: eyes squeezed closed, his mouth open as he breathed hard, his skin flushed from his exertion, the water from the shower dripping down his perfect naked body.

You heard him sigh, and you decided that was your cue to skitter back to your room and hide, locking your door behind you.

You weren't sure your brain was processing things properly right now. That had to have been a dream, or some extended fantasy from when you’d masturbated. Maybe you’d passed out with your vibrator still in your pussy, and this was your desperate mind reacting to that, like a vibrator-induced horny fever dream. That had to be what happened.

You sat on the edge of your bed. You were throbbing for him, your pussy practically dripping down your legs.

Fuck it.

You laid back on your bed. You didn’t bother with the vibrator this time, instead going straight for pushing three fingers into yourself, curling them as deep as you could as you brought your other hand down to rub your clit. You knew your poor clit was going to be sore tomorrow, and you didn’t care.

You played the sounds he’d made over and over in your head, the deep timber of his voice, the way he’d said your fucking name as he’d cum. You tried to imagine his cock as he stroked it. You wondered if he’d cum on your shower tiles or onto his hand, or maybe up onto his stomach. You wanted him to shoot his hot cum all over your face, or stuff you full of it as he pounded into you.

You imagined yourself in the shower with him, on your knees under the spray of the warm water. You wanted to lick his cum off of his stomach. You wanted to take his cock in your mouth and look up at him with big innocent eyes as you took all of him, your nose pressing into his pubic hair as the head of his cock pressed into the back of your throat. You’d draw from him the same noises he’d made touching himself, and he wouldn’t be able to help himself; he’d grab your head with both hands and fuck your mouth, and you’d take him, you’d do whatever he wanted, because you were his and always would be.

You murmured his name, over and over like a prayer as you fucked yourself on your fingers. Your whole body shook when you came — you gasped loudly, probably too loud, and moved your fingers steadily, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm you could, imagining Namjoon’s face in pleasure as your back arched up off the bed, your toes curling from your earth-shattering orgasm.

You laid on your bed, your chest rising and falling lazily as you let your mind wander over what you’d heard.

There was no way. You had to have misheard him, or imagined it, or, or… something. Or, if you hadn’t misheard, there was no way he meant it. Maybe it was real, but he was just having something like a sex dream. People couldn’t help what they thought of in those, right? You’d had a sex dream about Jungkook once, and you most definitely had not meant or wanted that. That’s probably what it was. It had to be.

You heard Namjoon walking around, closing the door to the bathroom and walking into his room. You’d seen him make that journey a few times, though you always made sure not to look. He always liked to get dressed in his room, so he just wore a towel wrapped low around his hips. The very few times you’d dared a short glance, you’d seen his back, glistening with water from his shower. You imagined him now like that, shirtless, dripping wet, only the thin little white towel blocking your view of his perfect body.

You were not going to sleep that night, you already knew it.

You got up and finally went to the bathroom to clean up, pee, and get ready for bed.

As you sat on the toilet, you stared at the shower, where Namjoon had just been, moaning your name as he came. Had he needed to take a moment to clean his cum off of those shower tiles? It hadn’t even been ten minutes since your best friend, the man you were in love with, had moaned your name right there.

You washed your hands, put on lotion, and brushed your teeth, glancing over at the shower every few moments. You still just couldn’t believe it. It felt too unreal.

“Hey, you,” Namjoon’s deep voice suddenly said, pushing open the bathroom door you’d cracked while brushing your teeth. His voice was deeper than usual, undoubtably in his post-orgasm haze, and you could not make yourself look at him.

“Hey!” you said, way too peppy, overcompensating for how awkward you felt as you stared down at the sink. You spat out your toothpaste and rinsed your mouth out while Namjoon moved behind you, reaching around you to pick up his own toothbrush.

“You smell good,” he said, probably trying to kill you, you figured.

“Oh, uh, I just put on lotion.” You pointed to your side of the counter at your scented lotion.

“Hmm,” he said, his toothbrush now in his mouth, and you finally let yourself look up at his face.

He was absolutely glowing, which you figured was normal, considering what he’d just done, but you swore you had never been more attracted to him than this exact moment. His skin looked so healthy, his expression relaxed and contented, his eyes meeting yours and giving you a warm smile. The t-shirt he’d thrown on showed off those wide shoulders you loved so much. His mouth was slightly open as he brushed his teeth, his plump lips taunting you. Maybe his pheromones were mixing in the air with yours or something, but Christ, he looked like sex on legs.

“Good night,” you said quickly, and you ducked out of the room and ran back to your bedroom, away from that awful, sexy, shameless man.

~:~:~

The next morning, you laid in your bed for at least an hour after waking up.

There was no way you’d be able to face him after last night. You still couldn’t believe him, what he’d done, and how right afterwards he’d pretended like everything was normal. You didn’t even let yourself think about him jacking off in the shower while moaning your name — you were now focused on how he’d been so casual afterwards.

The two of you were supposed to go shopping today. You wondered if you could pretend to be sick, though you figured you’d have to eventually face him. God, how were you supposed to share a room with him next week?

You got out of bed and quickly ran to the bathroom, hoping to not run into him on the way there. Maybe you’d be lucky, and Namjoon would have something going on today that he’d forgotten about.

You got ready and begrudgingly went out into your shared living space. You saw Namjoon, surprisingly already awake, and in the kitchen, even more surprisingly. He was standing in front of the stovetop, and… oh no.

“Woah,” you said, stepping closer cautiously. “Are you cooking?”

“Hey, morning, sunshine,” he said happily, looking up at you. He was making scrambled eggs, which actually didn’t look terrible. “I’m making us some breakfast before we head out. You wanted to go to the outlets, right?”

You vaguely remembered mentioning the outlet mall to him, but had forgotten about that completely in the last twenty-four hours. The outlets were about a half an hour away, which meant time alone in a car, with him.

“Oh, um, yeah,” you said weakly.

“I’m excited. I realized the other day that I don’t actually have any swim trunks that fit anymore, so I really need to get some. Plus I want some Hawaiian shirts. I really want to embrace this cheesy tourist vibe you told us this town has. Maybe I’ll buy a fanny pack.”

You snorted. You should’ve figured Namjoon’s silliness would immediately take away any awkwardness you felt.

“If you get one, I’ll get one too. We can match.”

“Perfect,” he said, beaming at you. He picked up one of the plates he’d set out and scooped half of the scrambled eggs onto it. He’d made what looked like enough for an army, and you most certainly did not need half of that much, but you thanked him anyway and took your plate over to the table.

You ate together happily, calmly, your conversation friendly and normal. As if you both hadn’t masturbated less than twelve hours ago while moaning each other’s names. You wondered briefly how Namjoon would’ve reacted if your roles were reversed, if he had been the one to hear you instead, but you quickly pushed that thought away.

After breakfast, you got dressed and ready for the day. You felt an urge to look extra pretty today, thinking you’d give Namjoon something to moan about if he was going to make a habit of masturbating while thinking of you. Why had he done that yesterday of all days? You’d just laid around all day in pajamas, eating junk food and joking around. If you had been at a party or something where you were wearing a short dress, then yeah, that might make a little more sense. Whatever! It didn’t have to make sense in your mind. You figured it was a fluke anyway, so what did it matter what his reasoning was?

You dolled yourself up with makeup, putting on way more than usual, as if you were going to a job interview or something important. Unlike a job interview, however, you wore a tight little pink crop top and tiny high-waisted shorts, and tied a black choker around your neck. You let your hair stay down, but pinned a few strands back, framing your face. You were going for a sex doll kind of look today, hoping Namjoon would appreciate it.

“Ready?” you called out as you left your room, closing your door behind you.

“Yeah,” Namjoon said, standing in the living room looking at his phone.

When he looked up at you, you swore he did an honest to god double take. You watched his eyes widen and move down your body before snapping back up to your face, as if he’d caught himself doing something he shouldn’t by looking at you.

You left for the outlets, stopping on your way to get Starbucks through the drive-thru. Namjoon paid, again, and you wondered if this Twilight Zone world you’d woken up in yesterday — with him paying for everything and tickling you and jacking off to you — was just going to be your new normal.

You drove, and Namjoon played his music. You both liked rap, though Namjoon was the one who introduced you to a lot of the songs you liked, while he liked exploring more deeply on his own. You talked some over the music, about your plans for the beach, your friends, dinner — just casual, friendly things.

You glanced his way more than a few times when you sat at stoplights. He was in light jeans that fit his big thighs so well, a thin t-shirt that showed off his toned chest, and he was wearing his glasses again today, which you loved. He’d put just a little product in his hair, smoothing it all back off of his forehead, and you wanted to run both of your hands through his perfect hair.

By the time you got to the outlet, it had started to rain, which both of you had not planned for at all. The outlet was an outdoor mall, and Namjoon offered to run into a store and buy an umbrella, but you figured the rain probably wouldn’t last too long anyway. You decided together that you could just run to the first store and wait there until the worst of it passed.

You ran, which you struggled to do in your sandals. Namjoon reached back and grabbed your hand, laughing and urging you to run faster. You were soaked by the time you got to the first store, gasping and laughing together as you dripped in the store’s entrance, the AC making you both shiver.

And there he was, you thought. Namjoon was standing there, looking like a marble statue, his hair wet, his warm skin glistening, his t-shirt soaked through, almost revealing the details and lines of his muscles. How could anyone look that good? You were sure you looked like a wet mop right now, and he looked like a god.

The store you’d ducked into had a bathing suit section, so you figured this was a good a place as any to start your shopping day. Namjoon picked out a few swim trunks, and you held up a few bikinis in front of yourself as you stood in front of the mirror.

“You should get that one,” Namjoon said as he walked up, motioning toward the little pink bikini one you were currently holding up in front of yourself.

“What makes you say that?” you dared to say, instantly regretting it. That was way too forward, too flirtatious, too awkward. It was one thing for a friend to say something like what he’d said to a friend, it was another for you to flirtatiously ask his reasoning behind it.

“‘Cause it’s cute, sunshine,” he said, wrinkling his nose. You watched him sigh, looking around the store like he was trying to act casual. “It’d look good on you.”

You bit your lip instead of responding. Why were you being like this? For fuck’s sake.

You held on to that bikini as you returned the others, and also picked up a red one-piece bathing suit that reminded you of a 1950’s pinup girl. You decided to let that one be a surprise for Namjoon when you all got to the beach.

You continued shopping for about an hour. You bought two sundresses and a romper, and Namjoon found some awful Hawaiian shirts that made his eyes light up in delight at the tackiness. You insisted he also buy one normal shirt to wear at some point on your trip, just in case you went somewhere nicer.

As you carried your bags back to the car, Namjoon swung his bags in his hands, humming to himself happily. You hadn’t seen him this peppy in a long time. You still remembered what it had been like, back during his darkest times. How even when he’d managed to smile, it never reached his eyes. You were thankful every day for the therapist he’d started going to, who he still saw every week, and for the medication he’d started. He was so much more himself now, his love and joy for life making him glow, filling the people around him, too. He deserved to be this happy.

“What do you want for lunch, sunshine?” he asked, smiling and looking at you over the car as you put your bags on the back seat.

“You pick. I’m so hungry, I’ll eat anything.” You got into the driver’s seat and turned on the car, quickly turning the AC on full blast to combat the post-rain humidity.

“There’s a steakhouse down the road,” he suggested as he buckled his seatbelt.

“I’m not sure it’ll be open at two on a Sunday, but let’s go find out,” you said, looking over at him and seeing him smiling contentedly to himself.

It was open, as it turned out, and Namjoon got a huge steak and two sides and ate every bit of it. You smiled as you watched him. He was so cute sometimes, your heart couldn’t take it. You watched the way he ate, how his cheeks puffed out with big bites of food that made him look like a little chipmunk. You felt lucky, just knowing him.

Namjoon insisted on paying for your meal, yet again, and you were not going to let him but he slipped his credit card to the waiter before you could even try to stop him.

“Joon, you can’t keep doing that,” you whined, wanting to kick him under the table.

“Why not? I can’t treat my friend?” He made a face at you, teasing as always, and you rolled your eyes.

“This is the third meal in a row you’ve treated me to. Four, if we count you making breakfast this morning, which was very unlike you.”

“What can I say? I’ve been in a very giving mood lately.” His defense was weak, and you both knew it.

“You keep doing this, I’m gonna tell the group chat that you’re my sugar daddy. I bet that’ll make you stop paying for everything real quick, just to get them to shut up.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said, scoffing.

“Oh yeah?” You picked up your phone. You read aloud slowly as you typed out a long message: “Guys, you will not believe this. Daddy Joonie took me shopping today and bought me a big steak lunch—”

Namjoon’s hand dove forward, trying to grab the phone out of your hand, but you turned away, keeping it out of his reach as you continued typing, not taking your eyes off your phone as you grinned wildly.

“I really am Daddy’s little princess. Do you guys want to see what else he bought me? Daddy told me that he was the only one who gets to see me in it, but I feel like being bad—”

“If you send that, you are sleeping outside on our trip,” Namjoon said, shaking his head, a shocked smile on his face.

“Sent,” you said, smirking and holding up your phone, showing him the large blue chat bubble.

“Fuck,” Namjoon said under his breath, scrambling to pull out his phone to see it with his own eyes. You giggled as he glanced up at you with wide, fearful eyes when he felt his phone vibrating from the notification.

Namjoon looked at his phone for a moment before rolling his eyes.

“You fucking brat,” he said, smiling and shaking his head. You’d sent it only to him, not the group chat, just to give him that little heart attack.

“That was a warning shot,” you said, trying to maintain your seriousness despite your giggles.

“Message received,” he said, slumping back against the booth. “I thought most people liked getting free food. I didn’t know you’d play so dirty.”

“That was nothing. Keep this shit up, and I’ll write you handwritten love letters describing our torrid affair like a porn novel, and leave them out on the kitchen table in the beach house.”

“Two can play this game,” Namjoon said, feeling bold now as he smirked and sat up again. “You remember my poetry, back in the day? I’ll write you graphic, sexual love poems and send them to the chat and say it was an accident, that I’d meant to send them just to you. I can get really descriptive, you know.”

“I’ll sit in your lap the first meal we eat together down there and make you feed me.”

“I’ll pull you down in my lap the first meal we eat together and feed you.”

“I’ll text Taehyung and ask him if he wants a three-way.”

Namjoon made a face at that, and you laughed.

“You don’t want a three-way with me and Tae?” you teased.

“I don’t like sharing,” he grumbled.

Namjoon had said that right as the waiter dropped the bill and his card off, giving you the cover you needed to mentally process that little tidbit he’d just shared with the class. ‘I don’t like sharing?’ What the fuck?

You were convinced at this point that Namjoon knew you’d masturbated to him last night and was just trying to kill you. Though that didn’t really explain all the things he’d said and done before that yesterday. Maybe he could suddenly read minds, and knew you were in love with him and just wanted to torture you with all these little things he kept saying and doing. That had to be it.

You were certain you weren’t going to survive your vacation.

[madd-information]

Sorry this has to be spilt into two asks, PART ONE I used to consider myself having MADD; constantly daydreaming, I make facial expressions, smile or cry along with the daydream, my mood can changed with it and sometimes I’ll rock side to side while doing it. Everyone makes it sound like a bad thing, like we need to be cured, but I recently met a bunch of introverted people (a lot of them empaths) who do the same thing and consider nothing of it. So would you consider this to be MADD?

PART TWO I know it’s different for everyone, but I’m questioning the validity of it, it seems most people just have different mental illnesses, trauma’s, or personalities that result in daydreaming a lot. I don’t mean to sound dismissive or abrasive, just confused and misinformed.

Anonymous said:Actually, to further clear things up... PART THREE I ask this because i’ve seen a lot of madders here on tumblr, for example, talk about their fear of driving. But I drive, so do a lot of these daydreaming introverts I know, without issue. I wonder if there’s a lot of misinformation, if some of these young ones are becoming afraid when they really have no reason to be, it’s actually more normal than they know. What do you think? (Sorry for so many parts to this lol)

Pretty on point!  Daydreaming is a symptom of many disorders and conditions, peeling apart exactly where your daydreaming is coming from and if it is an independent issue or tied to another can be tricky.  If ones daydreaming behavior causes them concern and the cause of it is not clear or they suspect it may be tied to something else is a conversation that needs to happen with a professional.  The exclusion criteria of the (proposed) MD diagnostic criteria includes ‘if the behavior is better explained by another disorder’.

As for MD itself, research is still in early stages.  MD researchers are leaning towards MD as a unique disorder but only time will tell.  In the meantime researchers, and the MD community, are working on spreading awareness, even if it doesn’t become included as an official disorder it is something MDers need help with and at the very least want some sort of legitimacy indicating to their clinician that their concerns be taken seriously. 

Distress and/or dysfunction is a required aspect of an MD “diagnosis”.  That no one you describe is at all worried about their fantasizing would lead me to believe what they are experiencing is not MD. Research indicated that MD starts with an innate trait for absorption in ones inner thoughts.  Some people are just naturally ‘better’ at fantasizing than others.  Many of them, perhaps most of them, will be fine. Immersive daydreaming is not inherently pathological, it is a healthy and wonderful talent.  MDers are a subset of immersive daydreamers who have lost control.  Exactly how common Immersive daydreamers are; we don’t know, a similar construct, Fantasy Prone Personality, estimated 4% of the general population.  It’s as close a guess as we currently have.

There’s no particular reason to think MDers are worse drivers than anyone else.  The mind is very good at running on auto-pilot when performing a well established task, even ‘normal’ daydreamers do this frequently.  And MDers do retain some ability to navigate the real world even when in a daydream state, pacers, for example, can avoid objects and obstacles in their path. Tumblr does tend to skew younger and much of this anxiety may be being shared by young men and women who have not already got years of driving practice under their belts.

[coeurdastronaute]

Either/Or: Christmas Day 2 (Found)

I don't know if it will be spoilery since the story hasn't advanced that far but Kara experiencing her first Christmas on earth with lena in the au where she lands on earth as an adult.

It wasn’t until there were lights on trees and wreaths on street lights that the month was noted. By then, of course, there were santas on street corners with their bells, a light snow that was a dusting of a promise of more to come, and the music piped over store speakers were songs of a distinctively merry variety.

And all of it nearly went unnoticed, though not intentionally this time, by a CEO who found herself juggling an illicit alien-aiding crime while simultaneously lying to her brother. There weren’t enough hours in the day to fit in an entire Earth-shaped education while running a multi-billion dollar corporation and getting weird butterflies in her gut when an alien smiled at her in that stupid little way that made Lena’s thighs--

None of that mattered. Instead, she finished sending off a work email as she made her way down the sidewalk, listening to Kara describe her day of earthly adventures, unaware of everything.

“Lena?” Kara asked as she zipped up her jacket a little tighter against the chill in the air. “What’s Christmas? What are the holidays?”

“Oh damn,” the CEO sighed. “Is it that time of year already?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

Sure enough, when Lena looked up from her phone, she suddenly saw aforementioned signs of the impending celebrations and festivities. Her eyes narrowed in on a window display with a large tree and a mannequin family putting a tree on the top, all joyful because of their new, expensive pyjamas.

“Throughout the vast religions of Earth, there are certain special holidays. One of the most prevalent is Christmas and during this season there are a few holidays, so it’s kind of rolled into one.”

“But what do you do?”

“Oh, well,” Lena furrowed and tried to think about how she normally spent the holidays in a gin-soaked puddle of self-doubt and loathing on a foreign beach, avoiding her family. “Families get together and spend time doing certain things.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Like decorating a tree, which is, ironically, a pagan tradition, and then going to church, eating a big meal, putting out cookies for Santa, opening presents, things like that.”

“Wow, those all sound spectacular!”

“They could be, I guess.”

“You don’t do some of those?”

Almost worried about it, Kara paused and waited for Lena to look at her. When she did, she furrowed a little more as Lena debated it. From what she could see, the world became a little more magical with all of the lights and decorations and happy songs that everyone seemed to agree on. Lena seemed to be the only one that didn’t care about all of it.

“I don’t celebrate,” she simply shrugged, indifferent to the whole thing.

“Why not?”

“You usually have to have a family to do all of that stuff.”

“And you don’t.”

“Exactly.”

They resumed their walk, though at a slightly distracted speed. Kara dug her hands deep into the pocket of her jacket while Lena adjusted her purse and crossed her arms, completely enamoured with avoiding thinking about her family and the lack of joy she felt toward the time of year.

All of the storefronts were glowing and showed familiar scenes of holiday events-- trees in need of decoration, parties at offices, family dinners, snowball fights, and the such. Each one was a diorama of absence for the CEO.

“Could we do Christmas this year?” Kara finally asked as they stood on a corner and waited for the light to change and allow them to pass.

Ears hidden beneath an adorable toque that Lena picked out herself, and definitely for the reason of keeping Kara warm and not because she was becoming her own personal dress up doll in all the clothes she fantasized about taking off, Kara burrowed into the scarf to protect her ears and exposed skin.

The lights from the street, from the traffic light, from the stores, all of it concentrated on Kara’s face, and she practically glowed with excitement despite the layer of begging that made Lena absolutely angry at herself for being so damn gay.

“You want to celebrate the holidays with me?”

“Well, yeah. You’re one of my favorite people on the planet. I want to do it all with you.”

She melted. Lena Luthor melted like a chocolate bar on an August day left in the back of an all-black interior car in a parking lot with no shade.

“I want to come back to your statement about being ‘one of’ the favorite people. Considering you don’t know anyone else,” Lena began quickly. “But I do think it is possible. If you’re really serious about it.”

“It’d be a nice, healthy item to check off of my bucket list.”

“That’s true.”

“If you are uncomfortable, I understand, but we can do whatever you want.”

“No, no,” Lena shook her head. “You’re right. This will be good. We’ll do all of the things one sees on a Hallmark movie.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Right. I suspect we should start there then.”

Without even realizing it, Kara unleashed an absolute powerhouse in the Christmas celebration department. She didn’t know that simply asking for Lena to show her a few things, she was actually setting forth a perfectionist who was so absolutely desperate for a holiday, that she would take one and never let go.

“I’m very happy you’ve agreed,” Kara beamed as she put her arm over Lena’s shoulder, hugging her to her side in her joy.

“Me too,” Lena mumbled, turning her head slightly to smell the intently Kara smell that existed despite the layers.

Every day for a week, the evening after work and dinner, Christmas movies were absorbed and regarded with intense study. Kara liked the lights and the singing, and naturally came with a lot of questions about many tangential earthly affairs. And Lena answered them as best she could, though she did distract herself taking notes until she compiled a perfect list of things to do for the season.

And now her apartment was a collection of boxes and decorations that were in need of putting things up.

“We didn’t have to get the biggest tree in the lot,” Lena sighed as she took a step back and looked up at the giant evergreen.

“Oh, but look at it. It’s so beautiful.”

The alien floated near the top of the tree, adjusting a pristine, glowing star. Without her abilities, it would have been impossible. That, and the fact that Kara seemed to have a sort of natural predilection toward the holiday spirit that Lena never really experienced. Maybe it was all of the movies, but she honestly believed that it was her natural state.

A carefully crafted playlist hummed throughout the place as the last of the large selection of assorted ornaments were added. Lights were hung from the doorways, and wreaths made it to the doors while a few outdoor decorations were set up on the balcony. Stockings remained hung on the fireplace, while the cat made himself fit in a discarded box.

“Do you think we got too much stuff?” Lena worried.

“No way. I think it looks fantastic in here. But I’m not really an expert.”

“I think you’re pretty close to an expert.”

“I have a list.”

“A list?”

Satisfied with her work, Kara floated down to the floor and tugged a piece of paper out of her pocket. There was something absolutely adorable about the giant Christmas sweater the alien decided to wear. Lena was finding that shopping for her was much easier than shopping for herself. She was certainly more eager than she imagined.

“The tree and the lights, and then cocoa and dinner and presents.”

“Wow! You do have a list. Very similar to my list.”

“I’m liking these holidays. A celebration of kindness and joy and giving. This is so great. I’m glad we’re doing all of this.”

“Me too.”

It took them a while to clean up the rest of the empty boxes that came from the things they all bought. But they managed, and they turned off all of the lights except for the decorations. The place glowed in a different way than ever before. It twinkled and glittered and smelled like the best parts of a forest. While the fire roared in the fireplace, Kara laid down beneath the tree and stared up at all of the lights.

Lena laid beside her on the tree skirt they agonized over for much too long at the store.

“I’m going shopping tomorrow, to find you some presents,” Kara decided, turning her head to look at the CEO daydreaming, her face multi-colors.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. I need to give you something nice. Full discretion though, I will be using the card you gave me for emergencies.”

Lena chuckled to herself and sighed as she closed her eyes. It was perfect. She was living a perfect moment, and she wasn’t sure what came next.

“You really don’t have to get me anything. I have everything I could ever want.”

“There are going to be lots of presents under this tree. Lots of them.”

“Okay. Then I’ll get you a few.”

“Just a few?”

“Wouldn’t want to spoil you.”

Kara laughed, melodically and light. It was unencumbered by pain, despite being composed completely of it. Lena admired that about her probably most of all.

“You’re already spoiling me, Lena.”

“Good.”

There were presents, now. The tree brimmed with boxes and bags and different shapes, all wrapped in festive paper spilling beneath it.

The entire apartment remained full of good cheer and mirth. The pair found themselves working through Christmas movies almost every night, often with Lena not that interested as she finished up work, but inevitably failing to keep disinterested, and gradually snuggling beside Kara about halfway through.

There’d been other things as well. They got dressed up and went to the ballet to see the Nutcracker performed. They donned gay apparel and went to a party at Lena’s office. They went ice skating in the park. They drank cocoa like it would never exist after Christmas was finished. They baked Christmas cookies. They built a snowman. They donated to every street corner they could. It was a joyous kind of exhausting.

“I’m so excited,” Kara bounced in her chair as she surveyed the living room and the presents.

“You have x-ray vision and you haven’t looked at the presents?” Lena teased as she licked some batter from her finger and handed over the spatula.

“That wouldn’t be in the Christmas spirit, and I quite like the Christmas spirit.”

“Spirit or not,” the CEO huffed as she lifted the bowl and poured it into the tray. “I’m not baking anymore sweets. You have the metabolism of a greyhound, but I do not.”

“But you bake so well.”

“And I have a sweet tooth, which is not helped by you.”

“If we’re going to have a dinner tomorrow, we have to have something festive for dessert. It’s in all of the movies, Lena.”

“I’ve created a monster.”

Kara didn’t notice, or at least pretended not to as she happily licked the spatula and Lena wiped flour on her forehead again. Kara liked that part. She loved how carefree and un-put-together the normally immaculate woman could look when she stopped caring.

“I was doing research and I discovered a tradition,” Kara smiled.

“Another one? It’s Christmas Eve. I’m sure we’ve done them all by now.”

“In a country made of ice, they give books to each other and spend the evening reading to pass the time. It’s the first gift of the season.”

“And you got me a book?”

“I did,” Kara nodded. “Did you get me one?”

“I did.”

“Great minds are identical.”

“Yes,” Lena smiled as she slipped the cake into the oven and started washing. “But I’m too tired to read.”

“Can we still open a present?”

“Ah, so that was the root of it.” Kara just smiled and nodded, clearly found out and not at all deterred by it. “Go get mine and I’ll get yours.”

The dishes were shoved in the dishwasher, the ham was thawing for the following day, and Kara sprinted at superspeed until she was sitting on the couch with a gift in her lap, impatiently waiting. It happened in under a second, and yet she was too eager to realize that Lena was mortal and did not possess any powers at all.

“Are we going to have to do this every year?” Lena asked before she caught herself thinking about the future.

“Definitely,” Kara agreed with no hesitation.

Lena smiled to herself and accepted the gift and handed over her own. They opened them and smiled at each other, though neither recognized the book the other had picked.

“I’m excited to read this. Thank you,” Lena offered sweetly.

“I thought this was a movie?” Kara furrowed as she scanned her title.

“It was a book first.”

Gently, reverently even, Kara trailed her fingertips along the title of A Christmas Carol, and she looked back at Lena and nodded, as if it were the most important thing she’d ever done. It was this solemnity that made Lena happiest.

“I’m going to read it all tonight. Thank you for this tradition.”

“Thanks for all of the traditions,” Lena shrugged. “Why don’t you read some of it out loud. That’ll be a fresh spin on it.”

“Since you’re too tired to read,” she nodded, quickly opening the book.

Somewhere between the tenth page and the end, Lena drifted off to sleep with her cheek on Kara’s arm and her body pressed up against her’s. It was a compromising position, and she didn’t even notice. But Kara finished and felt Lena and didn’t want to move. Instead, she looked at the cute, exhausted girl and smiled as she pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around them both.

The fire died down and the cat stretched before readjusting, but Kara settled deeper into the couch until Lena grabbed her ribs and held onto her at a terrible angle. She didn’t move though. Just let her.

She wasn’t in her bed. Lena knew that before she opened her eyes, but still, she dug her nose into her pillow and growled a slight complaint about waking at all. The only difference this time, was that her pillow growled back and complained about her movements by adjusting beneath her.

Lena’s eyes shot open as she felt an arm squeeze tighter around her shoulders.

Half laying atop and half smothering the alien beneath her, Lena realized she fell asleep on Kara and then used her like a teddy bear. In what looked like an uncomfortable position, Kara swallowed her fate, her head tilted off to the side as she sat sideways.

“Merry Christmas,” Kara grumbled, not interested in getting up.

Only when she saw that she was staring at someone who was wake did Lena swallow and sit up, pushing away from Kara’s warm and safe arms. She wiped the drool from her chin and cleared her throat as she blinked and got her bearings.

“I’m sorry,” Lena started. “I fell asleep. You could have woken me up--”

“I fell asleep too,” Kara tried against a giant yawn. “And you were very tired.”

With a small smile, Lena cleared her throat and adjusted herself as best as possible. She pushed the blanket away and realized she really must have been tired, to pull it down onto herself and to burrow into Kara with no memory of it at all.

“Because it’s Christmas morning, does that mean we can open presents?”

Oblivious to the horror and embarrassment the CEO was facing, the alien smiled happily, eager to start her day. She had avoided thinking about it at all, and Lena envied it.

“Aren’t you hungry?” she teased.

“But presents.”

“I’ve given you so many presents.”

“But these are wrapped and they’re a surprise. You’ve given me boring things. Like clothes.”

“And what if those are clothes?” Lena teased as she re-tied her ponytail.

“At least I get to unwrap them.”

Her excitement was infectious and even though Lena was still groggy and still mortally embarrassed, she sighed and smiled and nodded. Even though she still needed coffee, even though her neck was tight and sore, even though everything wasn’t perfect and she didn’t know how to holiday, she followed Kara to the tree where they sat, cross legged and ready.

The gifts themselves were vast in their categories. Lena received lovely smelling perfume, much different than the one she owned, but somehow better. She got vinyl records and a new coffee mug and a very expensive watch that she instantly loved. There were weird odds and ends, but Lena was surprised by how thoughtful each gift was, and she could imagine Kara agonizing in the store about what things earthlings might need.

The gifts that Lena picked for Kara weren’t much more cohesive, but she wanted to give her anything that would make her feel more at home. There was a telescope and nice notebooks, video games, a camera, another sweater, and of course chocolate.

Somehow surrounded by a mountain of discarded wrapping paper, each sat with their gifts circling them and lingering in their laps. Still wearing the new toque that Lena got her, Kara smiled at the moment.

“This was, by far, the best first Christmas in the history of Christmases,” Kara ventured.

“I’m glad.”

“What about for you? How was it?”

“It was exceptionally perfect,” Lena promised.

“Do you think we can do it again next year?”

“For however long you’d like.”

Kara smiled to herself and nodded.

[butchdaydreams]

1-99 :)

how tall are you?- I’m 5′6″ so I’m pretty average

what is your body type?- My body type is also pretty average I guess, I dont know a whole lot about body types

what is your favorite part about your body?- I have really pretty eyes and my smile is kinda lopsided but I like it all the same

is your current hair color your natural hair color?- Yes it is!

are you more outgoing or more shy?- I am very shy but I can learn to trust people

are you more femme or butch?- Well femme and butch aren’t a scale where you can be “more” of one or another. You either are one or you aren’t and thats all there is to it. But I’m a butch

are you tol or smol?- I’m smol at heart

wine mom or vodka aunt?- Neither, alcohol will kill me

weird habit?- I crack just about every joint in my body so I always sound like a human rice crispy treat

favorite meme?- Anything with dogs in it or those comic sans valentines sent at weird times of the year

do you sing in the shower?- I used to but I use a public shower now and I’ve fallen out of the habit

ever used a bow and arrow?- Yes, and I’m pretty good at it too

are/were you a theatre kid?- I was back in the day but I dropped it in high school so I could do orchestra and sports instead 

have you ever seen a broadway musical?- Yes, the last one I was was 4 or so years ago

do you think musicals are cheesy?- I think they can be but I don’t think that makes them bad

have you ever been a part of a protest or a march?-I’ve gone to a couple because I’ve always lived near cities so they are pretty easy to get to

favorite Cards Against Humanity Card?- Bees?

last movie you watched?-This really weird gay movie on netflix, I’m not even sure what it was about even though I just finished it like 20 minutes ago

behind the camera or in front of it?- Behind it all the way

favorite tv show?- Primeval

meaning behind your url- I’m a butch and I am all of your daydreams

reason you joined tumblr- I was a depressed kid 7 years ago who needed somewhere to go, and this is where I ended up

who’s your closest tumblr friend?- @kinkyfemmeprincess at the moment, but I dont think she knows it

what’s something most people love that you hate?- I eat an obscene amount of pickles on a daily basis

have you ever taken narcotics?- Yes and I’ve hated it every time

have you had sex?- Yes I have and thats where that ends

have you ever gotten caught sneaking out or doing anything bad?- I don’t think so, or if I have I’ve always been able to talk my way out of it

worst/funniest lie you’ve ever told?- I try not to lie so nothing really comes to mind

describe your passion without mentioning it.- They are small and cute and not real but also could kill you with a single glance most of the time

describe your best friend.- He’s smaller than I am so I have to protect him, and we love to antagonize one another but its the fun kind of antagonizing 

give us one thing about you that no one knows.-I run this blog because I am lonely and need that sweet sweet validation

how do you feel right now?- Kinda sad because I was way more into a girl than she was into me and now its over and I miss her

what is your biggest fear?- Being left behind or forgotten by those I care about

what’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?- Footloose

what is the best decision you’ve made in your life so far?- I think going to school was a good choice because every good thing that has happened to me in the last three years has come from that choice

have you ever tried your hardest and then been disappointed in the end?- Yeah, girls man. Sometimes you just can’t win

something you fantasize about.- I really want to own one of those little mini cows with the curly hair 

last time you cried and why- Last night as I had my final conversation with that girl I mentioned earlier

what was the last thing that made you laugh?- I went fossil hunting today and my friend fell on her butt in a creek

do you really, truly miss someone right now?- Yeah, yeah I do

who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything?- I think the boy I mentioned earlier, he is a good listener even if he can’t fix the problems

the last time you felt broken?- Whenever someone leaves me

are you starting to realize anything?- That maybe I expect too much from people and I need to learn to just accept what I’m given or I will be very lonely

are you more dominant or more submissive?- I’m dominant in the way that I am strictly a top but submissive in that I will do exactly what you ask me to because I want to see you happy

i’ll only date you if _____. (fill in the blank)- You are willing to try and show me that you love and care for me

do you prefer to date people the same age as you, younger, or older?- I like people who aren’t more than two years older or younger than me

describe the person you’re in love with/have a crush on in great detail.- I’ve never met them in person, but for a while she was the sweetest person I knew. She would talk to me and make me feel loved and special, but she lost interest as people do and it’s over now

do you have any kinks?- I love teasing and edging and overstimulation

first thing you notice in a person?- Their eyes, I love eyes 

how can someone win your heart?- Talk to me, listen to me, and let me know that you care about me

been rejected by a crush?- More times than I can count. One time I told a girl I liked her and she responded by saying that she didn’t like me back and was leaving the country for four years

have you ever had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back?- Again, more times than I could count

would you have sex with the last person you text messaged?- No, because I want to respect her boundaries 

is trust a big issue for you?- Yes, it is hard for me to trust people and each time it is broken it gets a little harder

did you hang out with the person you like recently?- No, I didn’t get to meet her in person

is confidence cute?- Oh yes!

what would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy?- I don’t say anything, I let it happen and walk away because who am I to take that away from them

would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh?- No, because I think  that laughing around another person is a huge part of a relationship

does the person you have feelings for right now know you do?- Yes she does but that’s how it goes

ever embarrass yourself in front of a crush?- I trip over things a lot, and I mix up my words and drop things. I’m an all around mess when I like someone

do you want to get married?- I would love to, it is a dream of mine. I know this generation is trying to do away with marriage, but I like the idea a lot

worst thing you’ve ever done?- My ex wound up in the hospital for four days after she tried to kill herself when I broke up with her. She told me she would do it if we ever broke up months before we did, but I did it anyway knowing she would do it

three things that turn you on.- Looking at me with that determined look and knowing that you are getting what you want from me, trying to turn me on because you want me, and when all else fails, telling me that you are wet because you want me

who do you hate?- I don’t think I hate anyone. It is hard to make me mad and I am very forgiving

favorite term of endearment?- Stick the word “my” in front of any pet name and I will melt

who was your celebrity/fictional gay awakening?- When Hayley Kiyoko played Velma in that live action scooby doo movie

intimidating girls or kind girls?- Kindness is the way to my heart

what do you look for in a possible partner?- I look for someone who I could trust to be able to help me look after any kids we had together with out holding any resentment if we were to ever get divorced

do you tend to like more masculine, feminine, or androgynous girls?- I like people on the feminine or androgynous side of things

are you good at flirting?- I don’t think so but I also know that some people find that to be endearing 

who was the first person you came out to?- My friend Emily, I wanted advice on asking a girl to prom and then more advice on how to get over the rejection 

do you have any friends who are wlw?- Most of my friends are gay in some way because straight people are stupid

is your crush wlw?- Yes

last person to make you reconsider your sexuality?- No one, I am a die hard lesbian and would not touch a man with a 12 foot pole even if I was paid

write a short love poem to your crush/self? Roses are red/ violets are blue/ if you don’t talk to me/ then I wont put in the effort for you

do you fall in love easily?- Far, far too easily

is there something that happened in your past that you hate talking about?- The whole situation with my ex

are you good at hiding your feelings?- I’d say so. People think they can tell, but thats when I’m putting on the act of hiding my feelings while still hoping that they notice

are you a forgiving person?- I am a very forgiving person and it has gotten me into trouble more than once

what is your “type?”- Soft, caring, enthusiastic girls

fall asleep in her arms or rub her back until she falls asleep in yours?- I typically hold her, but every once in a while even a butch needs to be held

tall girls or short girls?- I’m 5′6″, so I can appreciate both girls who are taller and shorter. I think I would go with shorter

hugs or kisses?- Kisses!!! Kiss me!!!! Please!!!

twirl her around or get twirled?- I get buff so I can pick up my wife one day

tummy kisses or thigh kisses?- Thighs

hairline kisses or neck kisses?-Neck

play with her hair or stroke her tummy?- Play with her hair because tummies are often ticklish 

making out or soft kisses?- Soft kisses that lead to making out

hugs around the neck or hugs around the waist?- Also neck

how confident are you in your sexuality?- I am confident that I am a lesbian, but not to confident to proclaim it to the homophobic town I live in 

when you like someone do you blush or get butterflies in your stomach?- Oof, I get both. So much it feels like I can’t breathe sometimes

have you ever liked a friend as more than a friend? did you tell them?- I believe in being honest, so I have told everyone that I have liked that I am into them

how old were you when you realized you were into girls?- 7th grade, but I denied it to myself until 10th grade

most embarrassing thing you’ve done in front of a cute girl?- I walk into a lot of things while staring at girls or my phone screen

do you have a favorite lesbian ship? is it canon?- This is lame, but Korra and Asami from the Avatar series

what is the most aggravating thing someone has said to you about your sexuality?- Anything that even implies that I should give men a shot or be more open to men

when was the last time a girl made your heart flutter?- Just a couple of days ago, before you stopped talking to me

what is love to you?- Love its more than that feeling of butterflies. It’s seeing when they are struggling, and its helping them even when you are struggling too. Its a choice you make to stay faithful and remember them, it’s the choice you make to go just a little bit out of your way to make their life better. It’s choosing to loose an argument where you can prove that you are right with sources because you hate seeing them mad. Love is how you care for someone even when it hurts. Love is putting them first in everything you do