#its one of my favourite ways to avoid miscommunication

[micewithknives]

I do this! It works amazingly.

One of the versions I use frequently, often when dealing with people who are stressing is: "checking where our baseline is at, have you done ... xyz (drank water, had food, etc)". And it mitigates the "of COURSE I've done that do you think I'm stupid" in people in favour of "yay high baseline achieved, proceed to stage 7 level solutions" vibes.

this is gonna sound like a shitpost but the best advice i have if youre consistently coming off wrong is to start talking like an elcor

you will feel like a dumdum at first, but once you get used to it youll realize that telling people what kind of thing you're about to say ahead of time flattens their anxiety a huge amount

ive been starting every question with "question:" for awhile now and i almost never get people reading too much into what i mean anymore

it seems super dumb, but "what are your plans tomorrow?" gets people asking me what i have planned despite me obviously being in the process of figuring that out, whereas "question: what are your plans tomorrow?" gets me a quick rundown of their schedule, followed by "why?"

it also makes it really easy to work tone indicators into your verbal speech. if you're always saying "question: [your question here]?" then no one blinks when you say "genuine question: [question that could read as sarcastic]?"

it also gets you out of your own way for any types of things you struggle to say. "can you make sure to do the dishes before you go to bed?" feels like an argument waiting to happen, but "request: can you make sure to do the dishes before you go to bed?" gets the words flowing on a neutral word while making it clear that you're not looking for a fight

so yeah. suggestion: talk like an elcor

[venusindelusion]

Giving In (to the Love): My Kink Is Karma

2nd chapter

SUMMARY: After that hideous night, your nightmare wasn't over yet and the odds were certainly not in your favour. Or, you were about to properly meet this mysterious pink haired girl. WC: 3K PAIRING: Vi (Arcane) x Fem!Reader WARNINGS/TAGS: MDNI, mentions of alcohol/bar, NO PROOF READ it's just me, miscommunication, and obviously cursing A/N: i don't know how college works in other countries so i'm just making everything up lol Previous chapter Next chapter

A light breeze caresses your face as you turn around trying to avoid it, sunlight illuminating your eyelids and interrupting your dreams which were turning into a nightmare. It would have been wonderful to be woken up by nature itself if it wasn't for the throbbing headache threatening to burst your brains.

You open your eyes slowly, your stomach growling and your mouth completely dry as if you had been out in the desert the night before. Except it was much worse— you were at a party, completely wasted and fighting for your life. Forcing your body to get up was painful, your head was still spinning and you couldn't focus your vision.

Once you are standing more or less still on your feet, you head to the door. This is what baby giraffes must feel like when they're learning how to walk. Your hand reaches for the door knob and you open it, cursing the sun and its light and the day you decided to get beige curtains instead of full black ones. The smell of coffee was in the air and your mouth starts watering over it, something you so needed right now.

"You're awake," a familiar voice says, "finally."

You turn around and see your dear not abandoning friend, Caitlyn, sitting on the couch with her own mug of coffee in her hand. Notebooks and different papers were spread over the small table in front of her, you assume it must be all homework.

"You spent the night here?" you asked her, serving some of that delicious hot coffee into your favourite mug. Just a taste of it could solve all your problems, or at least you hope so.

"Don't you remember? I brought you here, you were completely passed out."

Your brain was working overtime to try to piece together the events of last night. You remember going to the party, of course, dancing and drinking just a little bit… Until it was not a bit anymore and you were having your glass refilled over and over with different types of drinks. A bathroom door comes to mind, working your way downstairs and then trying to get outside.

You remember seeing a couple making out and then some flashes of blue hair. A blue haired teenager.

Oh.

"There was a drunk teen outside the house!" you yell at Caitlyn with your finger up, little pieces of last night coming together. This coffee really does wonders. As you sip a bit of it, you keep remembering more and more. "And someone yelled at me…"

She looks at you with concern on her face, "yeah, about that…" smiling softly she adds, "It was Vi—Violet, the teen's older sister. She said you gave her booze."

You could actually feel every cell of your skin moving and turning your expression into a horrified one. How could your uptight best friend know this violent girl?

Walking to the couch, you sit down beside her, still wearing your horrified expression.

"I never gave her booze, she's a kid!" you leave your mug on the small table in front of you, carefully moving your friend's paperwork and keep explaining. "I went outside after fighting for my life— which thank you very much for abandoning me," Caitlyn rolls her eyes and chuckles a bit at that comment, "and then I saw her passed out on the grass, I just wanted to help her!"

"I know, I'm not putting you on trial." she smiles at you and puts a hand on your shoulder, you can feel your muscles relaxing a little bit. The last thing you needed was your best friend not believing you, it was enough with that Vi girl thinking you poisoned her little sister.

"By the way, where were you while my brain wasn't working and I had to drink vodka mistaking it for water?" you raise one of your eyebrows, pretending to judge her. You didn't really blame her, she was not your babysitter and you should know by now that your stomach can't take that much alcohol, specially when all you'd eaten before was noodles. Precooked noodles.

Her cheeks turn instantly red and you furrow your brows, "I was in the bathroom…" is all she answers. You think for a moment and your eyes widen, your lips parted in realization of what she just admitted. It was so obvious; that Vi girl, the bathroom, Caitlyn even came a few seconds behind the pink haired lady when you were outside.

"Oh my god…" she looks at you confused, "so it's your fault I couldn't get into the bathroom to puke!"

Both of you laughed at the coincidence and stayed in comfortable silence for a moment. Your head wasn't threatening to kill you anymore, but your stomach was still growling a bit so you suggested ordering a pizza and staying in. It was your free day, neither of you felt the need to rush anywhere and it's been a while since you could spend an entire day with your best friend; she was always running around and busy with her studies and internship— it was tough getting into the Legal bussiness being just a student, and although her family is wealthy and has connections, Caitlyn has always worked hard to earn her place. As much as she can anyway.

Aware as you are that her social status has always been an advantage for her— one you used to envy when you were younger, the pressure and disappointment it carried were heavy on her shoulders.

After eating a whole pizza and some ice cream, you say your goodbyes and Caitlyn takes off, leaving you wondering what you could do with the remaining hours of the evening. You decide to put your favourite comfort movie as background sound while cleaning your place up a bit and then preparing your bag for tomorrow's lesson.

With the day coming to an end, you turn off the lights and sneak under your freshly changed sheets, then grab your phone to check for any new assigments or messages but what you find leaves you speechless; someone tagged you on a picture from the party, you see yourself outside the house completely wasted, your own vomit on your side and your mouth wide open from passing out. On the other hand, Caitlyn looked stunning while trying to wake you up.

You felt absolutely embarrassed, your veins filled with shame and you could feel your cheeks already turning red. Who would post something like this? And how come you only check it now?

Cursing at yourself for not using your phone earlier, you scroll up to see the username so you could know who this horrible human being was and gagged— no way, it couldn't be her.

"doing god's work"

That bitch.

Getting up the next morning was easy, all you had to do was forget about the embarrassing photo of you wasted and puked along with the fact that your whole class has already seen it and left comments about how ridiculous you looked and how funny that bitch was for posting it.

Easy.

You didn't even want to check your phone anymore, the embarrassment was too strong— but you were also angry as hell. Whatever reason she thought she had to post that picture wasn't enough, you wanted an apology; a real good one, on her knees and everything. Although remembering how muscular she was and how physically weak you are, you were willing to accept a simple sorry and go on with your life.

But you had a secret weapon, one who was involved with that bitch while you were fighting for your life outside the bathroom that night. And you were going to use it.

Once you grabbed everything you needed for today, you leave your apartment and get into the elevator. Feeling your phone ringing, you decide it was enough free screen time and pick up. Your secret weapon was calling you.

"Hey, my current favourite person in the whole wide world."

"Hi," she answers, you can hear some people chatting in the background and a door closing, "I won't be making it today, I got stuck at work. It's pure chaos here, everyone's running around and yelling at each other."

"What? What am I gonna do now?" You can feel your whole plan shattering to pieces inside your mind.

"What are you talking about? I'm just not going to class, you can handle yourself." you hear some papers sounds on the other side before she adds, "We can meet later, I could use your help for this case."

"I'm talking about the picture, haven't you seen it?" The elevator stops at the lobby and you start walking out, looking for the keys to the main door. "It's all over the internet." Now, you were just being a tiny bit dramatic.

"I didn't see any pic, but I'll check in a bit so send it to me and—" her boss' voice interrupts Caitlyn, he was yelling at her like a madman over an important paper. You could hear apologizing and more paper sounds until she picks up the phone again, "can't talk right now, this man will kill me if I don't find that stupid paper."

"It's okay, we'll talk later, Cait." You comforted her as you lock the main door and start walking down the street, you thank the heavens everyday that your apartment was close to your college. She hangs up and seconds later your phone alerts a new message arrived. It was from Caitlyn.

"Who was your favourite person?"

You can't help but laugh at that, she never misses anything even as trivial as it may be.

As you start walking, you think about what you should do; you couldn't take it down and you certainly weren't to ask her nicely— not like she would accept anyway. Deciding to put that chain of thoughts for later, you arrive to the classroom and hope for God to be merciful and your classmates forgetful.

You greet the professor and seat beside him. As part of your networking efforts and to earn extra credit, you help to organize paperwork, lessons and exams, occasionally even correcting them yourself. Of course, everything under strict supervision.

This semester you were assigned to Viktor's class, which you were grateful for. He was a brilliant man, very ahead of his time—if you dare say so, and handsome. You had to admit though, your little crush on him was embarrassing and a bit cliché, but your eyes weren't blind and you couldn't help yourself.

As the lesson went on, you stayed seated on the desk checking and grading exams from students while Viktor was explaining to the class how using AI on the medical tech department could help improve many lives; which had nothing to do with the actual topic picked for today. Just as you were getting bored of reading other student's interpretations and thoughts on their exams, you come across one name that catches your eyes: Violet.

Still, you weren't sure it was her. She might as well be someone else but what caught your attention was the fact that she actually belongs to this class and yet you have never seen her, maybe you just weren't paying attention. And what's even worse, she didn't write down a single good answer—this whole exam was a mess.

Oh, you had her good.

Your hand ached to grab the red pen and start marking all the incorrect answers, leaving little red lines across some words to state a grammar mistake and, finally, the most satisfying moment of all: grading. Without second thought, you write "FAILED" on her exam and wait for the lesson to finish so your work could be supervised.

After the lesson is done through, Viktor and you walk to his office down the hall and start preparing the topics and books required for the next class. You were getting a little nervous, being alone with him was embarrassing and you felt a bit undeserving of being her assistant in his lessons; although he picked you himself because you were an outshining student—his words. This certainly would not apply to your other classes which you were pretty far behind.

"These are the exams, correct?" he asks, grabbing the pile of papers in front of you.

"Yes, I already graded them but you should check if everything's okay." he hums in response as his eyes scans each word while you keep writing down the list of books needed.

Once he's done with it, he lets you know that you have done a very good work and that your day is over for now. Grabbing your bag and stuff, you were about to open the office's door when he called your name.

"I need one last thing from you." he says, looking a little concerned.

"Yes, of course."

"One of these students is in…" he grabs one of the exams spread on the desk and watches it carefully. "A particular situation, she may be in need of tutoring, and I believe you are perfect for the role."

"Sure, who would that be?"

"Her name's Violet, you already graded her exam as failed—" your face turns into a distressed one and he adds, "correctly so, don't you worry about that, but I wouldn't want to waste her potential over one failed test."

You nod in agreement and say your goodbyes to him, leaving the office with your heart pounding against your chest like crazy. This is not what you were expecting. Why did it have to be you of all people who gets to tutor her?

Well, you think that Violet is a pretty common name and it could actually be anyone. Maybe she's even nice, right?

The little break you had in between classes was dedicated to eat, so you head towards the cafeteria and pick your favourite seat next to the window. Today's weather was nice and you wished you had some free time to enjoy it outside.

While you were admiring the view through the window, a waitress approaches you and asks for your order. You turn your head around to reply and open your eyes wide when you take a look at her, unforgettable long blue braid, her teenage face so familiar that you can't even find the words to make your order.

"Do I have monkeys on my face or what?" she asks, clearly annoyed that you were wasting her time like that.

"N-No, sorry…" you assume she must've forgotten all about you that night. After all, she was as wasted, or worse, as you were. "Just a coffee, please."

She nods as she writes down your order with her eyebrows still furrowed and takes off. You stay there feeling a bit embarrassed at yourself for not being able to answer properly. Watching her from afar as you're waiting for your coffee to arrive, you wonder what is she doing in the college's cafeteria when she's so young, you have never seen her here before and for the way she gets annoyed easily at customers it seems obvious she got the job very recently.

Once your coffee arrives, you decide to get some courage and tell her, "I was there when you passed out the other night." She looks at you confused then her face turned into one of realization, so you continue, "Your sister yelled at me."

"Yeah, she does that—" the little bell hanging from the door started ringing, signaling someone entered. "speaking of the Devil…" she ends the conversation and approaches the person standing near the door, your eyes move on their own to the same spot just to find Violet with her arms crossed over her chest. She was wearing a black top, tightly on her body and some baggy sport pants. You could see her arms more muscular than the night you met her, biceps flexing and her arms accompanying whatever she was saying to her younger sister; she even looked like she had just showered, her pink hair dripping over her face and the small towel around her shoulders. You could even say she was actually attracti—

The teenager looks at you and laughes outloud, telling her sister something you couldn't hear and Violet stares at you, meeting your gaze with one eyebrow up then furrows. God, did you felt small under that gaze, but you also feel something you couldn't quite figure. Was it rage because of what she did?

You took a sip at your coffee and avoid her intimidating gaze. Just when you were about to pay for your order and leave, someone sits beside you.

"I heard you're tutoring me." Of course it was her, you can't believe Viktor told her about it so soon, you didn't feel mentally prepared yet.

"Seems like it." she was so close to you, you could smell her perfume. Her light blue eyes locked into yours, she didn't seem upset so you wonder if she actually remembers you.

"Fine, meet me at The Last Drop at night." she grabs her little towel and dries her hair ends.

"What? We're not studying in a bar."

"You scared you're gonna get drunk and posted online again, cupcake?" she smirks teasingly. So she does remember you. She watches you getting pissed off already, how dares she make fun of what she did! "I work there, once I close the place we'll study at peace." she explains.

"Fine." you're already pissed off, but the only reason you agree was because of Viktor, you couldn't let him down and certainly needed those extra credit if you wanted to be an outshining student.

Leaving the money for the coffee and a tip for the waitress, you stand up and Violet moves aside so you can leave.

"Wait," she stops you on your tracks and you look at her annoyed, "say hi to Cait for me." she winks at you and walks through the door, not before saying goodbye to her sister. You let out an involuntary groan and leave behind her.

You really hope she's a quick learner or else you're going to lose your mind.

Next chapter

[0oolookitsme]

Like Gold Dust

Hii everyone! This one is kind of different than most of my fics. There are lots of descriptions and lesser dialogues and she's an angsty one! Lowkey poetic too, I think? I don't know! You tell me! I hope you enjoy reading <3

Verse - Footballer!Harry x Art Director!Y/n (uni era)

Word Count - 3.1k

Warnings - This fic is about Harry dealing with Seasonal Depression and he doesn't deal with it in this fic very healthily. So, if that, in any way, seems like it might be triggering for you or you don't wanna read about it, I totally understand! Close this fic and take care of yourself, I'll see you in the next upload! Sending love <3 (Also, there's miscommunication as well because of course, they are in uni!)

Winter has come knocking the wind out of Harry's lungs, and happiness has begun feeling like gold dust to him -- everybody seems to be chasing after it, but rarely catches it. But while Harry deals with the harshest Winter he's ever had, Y/n seems to have begun hating her favourite season.

Please rb to share! | Masterlist

With her head lowered defeatedly, Y/n slapped on the door with her palm for the fifth time. "Harry," she exhaled a breath that she had held hostage in her lungs so that she wouldn’t miss his reply. "I know you're in there ...let me in, please," her voice went meek towards the end, eyes moistening making her screw them shut, tighly.

She let her head rest on the door, sniffling a few times when she feels the sudden tiredness overtake her senses once again.

Maybe he's asleep, she thinks to herself just to get herself moving. Nodding at her own thought, she fisted the hand that was still pressed against the cold shut door and put it back in the warmth of her coat’s pocket.

This was nothing new. Every morning she'd come to his dorm, knock and knock and knock, and get teary eyed when he wouldn't open up. She'd catch him on the campus sometimes, walking in the same clothes she'd been seeing him in since the past three days, his head low and eyes avoiding any and every gaze.

"Harry!" She'd call after him and run up to match her steps with his. "I went to your dorm; thought you were sleeping but here you are!" Halting in her place she'd exclaim. Then, she'd mumble sadly -- "looking all pretty," running a little because he hadn't stopped with her.

She'd walk with him quietly then, cautiously weaving her fingers through his rough ones. He'd squeeze her hand three times in return and hold on tightly until they'd reach the point where they needed to part ways for their classes.

Truth be told, those little encounters seemed to be the only thin thread she was hanging by. His simple touches, holds, and cold lips pressed against her forehead. It made her believe that he didn’t entirely hate her, that she wasn’t as useless as she felt.

Y/n felt like she was lacking somewhere. That she should be the one he should be talking to in moments like these, that she should be the sole source of comfort he had but it seemed like he kept his distance from her as much as he could. And that made her feel like maybe she wasn’t his favourtie person, after all. 

She knew that it wasn’t the truth in her heart. That Harry did still love her, and found his safe haven in her – the smallest actions he made were assuring …but they weren’t enough to prevent Y/n’s opposing, combatant mind from exceeding its thinking capacity.

Every night she found herself doubting herself – her capacity to love, especially. Was her love not enough for the both of them to sail a little longer? At Least until Spring came and Harry’s sunflower plant became full of life again?

She feared that their relationship was withering away, just like his sunflower, and she was sat in his room on his window sill with the plant in her lap, frantically giving it sunlight and air and water and better soil but it just won’t stop shrinking in size and fading in colour.  

Doing everything she could, still Y/n was always feeling helpless and in despair. It was like she was screaming but Harry wasn’t listening…whether intentionally or not because, from Harry’s point of view, no sound seemed to be coming out of her scream – maybe because he was under water.  

"I'll see you soon," she'd tell him and get up on her tiptoes to hug him close to herself, pressing a kiss on his unshaved cheek. And with that, she'd walk away, her hand a lingering touch until she had walked far enough, and she, yet again, proved to be insufficient and not enough.

Walking against the brittle wind, she caught sight of the on-campus cafe. Walking inside, she looked up at the jingling bells above the door and smiled. She’d been coming here for so many months and yet she looked up at the source of the chime every time she walked in – for coffee, mainly, and for some warm shelter, secretly.

"A medium coffee please," she told the barista, who also happened to be a good friend. The cafe was opened by some of the college students, for the college students. It was nothing fancy but did its job remarkably well.

No one was speaking this early in the morning. Everyone was bundled up in any corner that they could seek, and Y/n looked around in hopes that maybe the footsteps she'd heard inside Harry's dorm weren't actual and that she might catch him cozied up here, instead. Because sometimes they'd bump into each other here or at the library, and that would bring her the peace that she was feeling rarely this Winter – which came as a shock to the system because she didn’t nearly love any season as much as she did Winter.

But alas, it was only a hope after all.

"Can I get a refill, please?" Someone asked, slightly embarrassed as the peeked from behind their laptop screen. Standing in front of Y/n, the barista – Kate – agreed to the request with a warm smile.

-

It was brighter than usual today, Harry had noticed. The sunlight pouring in through his open window laid right on his bed and if he wasn’t already feeling brighter today, which is the reason why he is standing fresh out of his bathroom and rubbing his towel against his head with another one wrapped low on his hips, his mood just felt as if it had bubbled up so high that he couldn’t handle it all by himself.

The flimsy curtains were still drawn in front of his windows, as he quickly changed. Even though he hated dressing up before his skin had fully dried. Unconsciously, he began humming a song and when he realized that while brushing his hair, he felt as if he had caught himself off guard. 

Happiness had begun to feel like it was like gold dust, to Harry. He’d suddenly become very aware of how difficult it was to obtain, how everyone wanted it and it was almost as if it had grown out of his comfort zone. 

He wasn't excited about the winter, not that he ever was. But he was depressed. Harry avoided his own gaze in the mirror then. He hadn’t said anything to himself other than a broken sob in weeks, so to find himself humming a song felt surreal. 

Throwing some things in his backpack, he swung it over his shoulders. He didn’t have anything on his feet, he realized and sprawled on the floor to look under his bed for the socks he was sure he had absentmindedly kicked under there. 

He took a quick sniff at his socks, deciding that he could go with them this last day. With a few grunts he pulled them up on his feet, sitting on the floor of his dorm room and tying his shoelaces. Y/n had gifted him those among some other things for Christmas, and that thought made him smile as he stared at the Nikes on his feet for little.

A few of his bones popped as he got up, making him groan in satisfaction. Checking if he had his phone and headphones on him, he decided to go and quickly check the scenery outside via his window and see for himself if he should carry an umbrella, which didn’t make any sense because it could begin raining cats and dogs any time where he lived.

That was when he caught sight of snow – falling down in flakes, slowly like feathers. His mouth fell open as he pressed his palms against the cold window glass, looking outside like some eager kid with his nose slightly smushing against it. His gaze wandered and he realized that everyhting was covered in white snow, shimmering beautifully as sunlight fell down.

Suddenly in a much bigger hurry, he swung his backpack on one of his shoulders again, and locked the door once he was on the other side of it.

The temperature inside his dorm room was much colder than the temperature outside, Harry realized, just as he does every other day and proceeded to walk down the hallway with his hands in the pockets of his bright pink hoodie. He’d been thinking all morning that maybe this serotonin release was only for one day, but chose not to dwell over that so he could simply live for at least some hours – for as long as the sun was away from the jail-bars, namely clouds.

But then he realized that it had finally begun snowing, and he felt like no one could take his happiness from him; absolutely no one.

He hated this issue that he had. He’s been suffering with seasonal depression since he was fifteen, he’d guess, and he hadn’t had one winter since that made him happy. Except, of course, the last one, in which he finally had the nerve to kiss Y/n under a mistletoe that had been hanging on the wall indentation that separates the dining area from the kitchen in his home.

And she made the Winter sufferable, if not entirely rainbows and sunshine for him. But it only made Harry hate himself worse – the fact that she adored no season as much as she did the snow one, and yet she was sad all the time during the span of this Winter in particular, because of him.

When Winter was approaching, she had strictly told him to come meet her before he’d leave for practice in the mornings, just so that she could hold him for a little before they’d go in for entirely different classes for the day, because she was aware that one of his love languages was physical touch. She didn’t really have a clue about how harsh this Winter was going to be on them, considering it hadn’t ever been so bad in the years she had known him, even as his best friend.

But he hadn’t been following the one rule she’d made; he was unable to.

He tried to stay away from her, when he realized that. Just so that she wouldn’t have to share all of her love and happiness with him to the level that she was left with nothing but his sadness. It wasn’t making him feel good, it hurt worse than the Winter did – staying away from her. But it was for the better, he’d tell himself over and over again as he would roll his lips in his mouth and shut his eyes tightly when she would come knocking on his dorm room morning and night, voice sounding as if she were on the verge of breaking down and begging him to open up so that she could come in and help him, and herself even.

“This is making me very sad, Harry. This – whatever it is that you’re doing, i – it isn’t making me feel anything but … but sad,” she would utter defeatedly outside his dorm, being ignorant about the strangers that might be hearing her. And, Harry would clench his eyes shut if his mind showed him a sight of her bottom lip trembling with fat tears rolling down her flushed cheeks.

What would matter to anyone hearing her, if Harry wasn’t hearing her? She’d think as she’d knock for the last few times, getting louder and louder.

It made Hary question his decisions, if he was doing the ‘right thing’ after all. But still he would gulp down his cry that threatened to escape his aching throat. He cried, and held himself as his body shook and broke down in sobs, because it felt selfish to have her do it when she could be outside building a snowman.   

He was well aware that she was concerned about him, it showed in her actions -- bled through the looks of care she passed him before she had to part from him. And he felt careless, like he wasn’t being responsible and mature enough by simply letting her in but he was. He couldn’t explain as to how or why, but in his head, he knew he was being sensible by not enclosing her in his misery.

Around Y/n he was calmer and more at peace – that was, nowadays, whenever she would catch him sulking on the campus somewhere. Almost all the time he wanted to be coddling her, holding her or being near her -- he knew she’d keep him sane, at the least but still he didn’t go to her. So he managed to comfort himself by the things that reminded him of her.

He felt such geat despair in that moment, when he would be sliding down the wall of his dorm as tears fell one after another from the slits of his eyes. He’d feel resentful of himself, but would still wrap his arms around his weak body and strangle his sobs because the walls were paper thin. He’d rest his head on his knees, back against the cold wall before he’d crawl to the foot of his bed and cry into the mattress as if it were his mum’s or Y/n’s lap. 

The sun had begun its hideaway for multiple days on end, and it got dark way earlier. Although he'd liked to think that he was prepared for the season, for the entirety of the beautiful autumn, he knew he was just baffling to himself. His current state was proof for it.

He felt tired, always. Never sleeping and being irritated at the slightest mistakes made during practice -- whether it was with himself or with his teammates. He had no interest in eating or getting out of his dorm room in the mornings, which was extremely unusual of him. Exams were around the corner and as much as he'd like to say that he was ready to tackle them, it was a lie far far away from the truth.

He wasn't even sure what the syllabus was, if he was being completely honest.

By the end, his throat would be aching because of the stifled wails and the sun would have risen by the time he’d be done collecting himself, and then a headache would follow and his eyes would've dried up because of the night time that he used to study instead of sleeping. 

Swiftly climbing down the flight of stairs to go to y/n's dorm, he felt the same kind of sensation he did when he was going back home for the winter break.

He knocked thrice, gently because he’s sure she's still sleeping or just woken up. There was a rush in his body, the thought of seeing her was making him more and more impatient. He was beginning to feel nervous, almost verging on anxious.

The door opened, and Y/n peeked through the small crack before and her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. He was standing right there, freshly showered and dressed in a fresh pair of clothes. His face was shining and as he smiled down at her, his dimples indented in his shaved cheek and she could smell the strong smell of his shaving cream that lingered around for a while. His lips were stretched so far that the front of his bunny could be seen from the small gap forming in between.

He didn't look much better than he did on the mornings that have passed them by since winter started, but he did seem to be in a better mood. It made her happy that he loved the hot pink hoodie that she bought him as much as she did. He had paired it with some joggers, and the shoes that, again, she had gifted him.

Tears pooled in her eyes in an instant and her nose flared a bit as her mouth swung open in a grin, spurts of laughter falling out as she gazed at him in disbelief. 

She made herself fully visible and opened the door wider. Instead of saying anything, she closed her mouth shut, still smiling at him brightly, and opened her arms for him to lean into her.

"Good morning," he gritted through his teeth as she held him tightly, rubbing her back up and down as she broke down in his arms. Pushing the door shut with his leg.

“Good fucking morning,” she sobbed and hicupped, a crack in her voice indicating that this was the first time she'd spoken since she'd woken up, and that she would’ve begun screaming in victory if only she could stop the stuttering cries rushing out of her.

This was the sole reason she'd begun to dislike mornings less, in the first place -- the love she felt oozed out of her at the sight of Harry. But she hadn’t realized just how off and gloomy she had been this whole time until she broke down at the mere sight of him looking decent. All these mornings that she had to wake up knowing deep in her core her that she wouldn’t see the sun, no matter how much she begged for it to come out had put her in a despair so great that she couldn’t even fathom the feeling of it.

But when she’d woken up this morning to see the land outside covered in white snow, shining as sunlight fell on it filled her with a certain hope to the brim. It almost made her flinch, the way sunlight fell on her face as she laid in her bed, eyes swollen and pillow still wet with the tears she’d cried into it the night before.

"You look exceptionally good this morning," she said while pointedly eyeing him up, wiping off the snot with the sleeve of her hoodie. "All good?"

Harry laughed at that, picking her up and taking her to the unmade bed. It looked like she was in the process of making it because all of her stuffed animals were strewn all over the floor -- and she tends to sleep with them on the days Harry isn't there to take up more space than necessary.

“I would’ve been on my way to buy some flowers for you, had I not seen the snow outside. Got too excited to see you, couldn’t wait,” he spoke softly, like she was still in a fragile state.“Plus, it’s too cold outside and I’d like my golden girl to come with me… For the sunflowers only bloom at the sight of the sun,” he smiled with his eyes crinkling on ends, and dimples shying away from Y/n’s gaze. 

“First of all, we need to talk and second of all – how many times did you reframe this cringy speech, Harry?”

[littleraeofsunshineda]

I've decided in my nostalgia for mid-2010s fandom (ah blissful torturous teenagehood) what this fandom/pairing needs is more fic rec lists

To that end, and without overestimating my total lack of influence whatsoever, I present the first installment of

Cullrian Fic Recs

This inaugural list featuring my favourite trope for them of all the tropes: Misguided Pining/Insecurity

Various AU lists will be forthcoming but for now these are shorter fics which also mostly fit the game canon. Enjoy!

take all my loves, my love - susiecarter - M - 2566 words

If you need a tasty treat to sell you on Cullrian in under 3k, this will do it. They're fuckbuddies. Dorian thinks he know what it is: he's obviously wrong. Deliciously angsty miscommunication, achingly lovely resolution, all in a ridiculously tight package.

this song is about you - susiecarter - M - 11,257 words

Now your appetite is whetted, enjoy its sister-fic - these are the only two cullrian fics susiecarter ever wrote and I mourn that fact routinely. This features some truly delightful imaginings of a second Wicked Grace game where Cullen isn't the one losing clothes. Also featured: hot drunk sex, Dorian's hang-ups, exquisitely sweet virgin!Cullen that is never soppy. 9/10, losing a point because there's not 100k of it. Cullen’s POV.

Checkmate - Kauri - E - 6521 words

Another lovely thing that packs a whole bunch of feels into a very few words in a way I'd frankly kill for (my style is more... verbose). Progresses from Dorian setting out to seduce Cullen to a romcom-worthy yet understated confrontation with his own expectations for relationships.

Mutually Beneficial - Verayne - E - 13,364 words

Billed in the tags as Dorian's fairytale, this delivers - the two make a political alliance to encourage positive interactions between the Templars and rebel mages in the Inquisition force. There are sexy duels that also smack you in the heart. There is my second favourite Inquisition trope after the Wicked Grace: the Winter Palace. The end makes me squeal every time.

Treading Water in the Wishing Well - springdreaming - E - 11,672

I'll avoid saying too much about the plot of this one because it'll give spoilers, but the fantastically romcom-worthy premise is that Sera fancies Lavellan, but Lavellan and Cullen fancy each other. What does she do? Recruits Dorian to help split them up, obviously. Genuinely funny at times which is as you expect with good Sera writing. Pining like an exquisite knife. Dorian's POV.

[mldesigngraphics]

1:1-Project progression, possible changes, things to improve and things going well.

Feedback from a 1:1 with mark after showing him all work up to date and my ideas for moving forward.

In my 1:1 with mark i decided to start by just explaining my idea to him and the main aspects of my brief, how i was going to reach them and what my problem and solution was. I showed mark my posters and brand assets as this is a big part of my idea and wanted to get them right before going any further into the project and then deciding to late own the line i had made the wrong choices.

D&AD:Brand name, logo and colour pallette, target audience,poster feedback:

logo works well for this kind of campaign,however does it attract the target audience, in fact is your target audience too broad?

could you narrow down your target audience and still be successful in your message? (ie. Concentrating on a younger target audience could help with design isgn style/choices, colour pallette and solid campaign/advertisement style/choice that has more meaning and a unique way of creating awareness.

the name works well with the logo design, if the logo design is reimagined then the name don't work as well as, the name not making sense without the logo but also not explaining what the company is without having to look deeper into it, the logo and name should explain almost exactly what the brand is about in order to attract the correct audience, is the name going to tell men that its for them?

The posters come across 'scary'a and might not attract the right target audience, they don't show what your trying to talk about nd instead gives a weird, sad, and negative vibe rather than a positive about talking and speaking up.

What to do next?

narrow down the target audience

new target audience: 15-25 (Gen-z)

the new narrowed down target audience is going to help me focus on this age group in the design process and understanding what will help get the message across to them, i can research into this age group more and see what is popular and use that as my main source of showing my campaign and spreading awareness in a unique way.

Reimagine the logo and brand name to fit the new target audience/more self explanatory.

new name and logo: Mens Mindful

this brand name is more effective because it subtly explains the brand and what it is, the logo is simple but still playful and understandable it has easy readability and has more than one way of being creating into logo marque and a submark logo for different uses.

Colour pallette:

the new colour pallette is based off of the age group, the colours commonly liked by men between the ages 15-23 and also advice from ai of colours that attract boys/men the most.

F1EAD8 -cream/beige

A5A59C- Grey/steel

9AD0AC- Light aqua blue/grey

118181- Dark Turquoise

842C3D- Berry Red

63132C- Dark Maroon Red

Personal identity feedback:

the shortened version of my name works well, its short, catchy and memorable. it makes sense and create an easy option for a logo choice.

typeface used in all options works well but could reconsider what works better and maybe look at some more to see if anything fits a bit better.

The logo itself (my favourite) its nice and does work however don't look as it should at first glance its supposed to be an m, l overlapped although can look like a building giving a different brand feel to the audience and my be miscommunicated about what you do and what your brand offers.

the infinity logo is nice but again miscommunicate what your brand does there's two different meanings of how this can be perceived; always being helpful and also the work taking forever to be finished? maybe avoid this kind of design for this reason.

what to do next?

reconsider the main chosen brands logo, try without the l overlap

look into different fonts that could express your brands personality more instead of being so serious and corporate, your. designer show this through your logo its the first interaction your clients have.

[hpdmguy]

im so sorry this got so long. i am a totally normal person who definitely has a life.

okokok. 1 The Journal of Dreadful Things. it is my holy bible i live and breathe for this. its a wip tho, 4/7 installments out but theres lots to read right now AND the author is an artist!!! they make loads of art for their fic too ! ! ! @/lilbeanz here on tumblr

2 all life is yours to miss by saras_girl

3 a ghost in the garden by thistle_verse. im SO ILL ABOUT THIS ONE. OH MY GOD. AJDFJKJASFLJKSLAJFKASLFJKAJSFK

4 really anything by thistle_verse!

5 mr blue sky by anonymous (at this time, i think it's part of a fest!)

6 turning over a new leaf, entering the next phase, and other rot like that by allychik6. SUCH A INTERESTING TAKE ON WEREWOLVES. and excellent exploration of politics on werewolves in the wizarding world !!!

7 if you want some short but sweet angst read what i thought by bafflinghaze. friends w/benefits to lovers, kinda unrequited love, miscommunication... i reread this when i want to be a bit sad

8 by the grace by lettered (@/letteredlettered on tumblr). long as fuck but good

9 the fall of the veils by lettered. my personal favourite of theirs. ace draco rep ace rep ace rep ace rep ! ! ! ! ! ! i loooove the premise of this too.... its so interesting to think about what might happen if the muggle and wizarding worlds collided!!

10 thunderbolt and filing (very very frightening) by MyNameIsThunder. the b plot with blaise is so fucking funny

11 designate / your love as fate by elskan_ellis . this is sooooo good and sooo funny and the story is well written !

12 the haunting of hogwarts by vintagevulpes. friends to lovers! an interesting ending... good stuff!

13 the boy who only lived twice by lettered. angst! secret identity shit!

14 isnt a kingdom by anonymous (also part of a fest i think).

15 nothing but you on my mind by moonflower_rose. angsty and sweet, friends to lovers, HERMIONE AND RON FRIENSHIP WITH DRACO MY BELOVED

16 a dreadful invasion (of the feline persuasion) by xanthippe74. this one is SO funny and not (very?i read it a while ago and dont rememeber) angsty

17 ice snakes, glow-worms and wolverine stew by khalulu. this one is sweet and silly

18 my kingdom for your laugh by anonymous. SOOO SILLY AND SWEET OUAGHSJF

19 a hand outstretched by allthelittle / @/marislittlestories. a wip but ive been enjoying it sooo much

20 inertia by cavendishbutterfly. its sooooo goood and i like the way it deals with some issues and such jkfjalsf

21 in every universe by skeptique. JSFKJASKLF I LOVE ALTERNATE UNIVERSE FICS AND THIS ONE IS SO ANGSTY !

22 little deaths and how to avoid them (or draco malfoys guide to stop dying and start living instead) by dustmouth, nerakrose. LOVELY ART INCLUDED.

23 anything by dustmouth really. they make these lovely little comics.

24 in the hand by aideomai. another alternate universe fic!!

25 anything from the hp gallaplacidia archive

26 rookie moves by peu_a_peu

27 spoiled little brat by appleslightning (same url on tumblr), fastbrother (i think its @/fastbr0ther)

28 marginal notes by blamebrampton (and anything else by them! such good writing..)

29 all in good time by saltwatergarden. I LOVE TIME LOOP FICS OUASGH

30 boats but not the ocean by p1013. another time loop fic!

31 tea and no sympathy by who_la_hoop. an excellent time loop fic

32 strangers many hours by MythAnd

33 there will be time, there will be time by waterwings. SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP. ANOTHER ALTERNATE UNIVERSE FIC. THE PANSY DRACO FRIENDSHIP ! THE WAY THEY ALWAYAS FIND EACH OTHER. SDJFKASJFSJF

34 the wrong sort by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle. this was like? one of the first few fics i read when i got into drarry it holds a special place in my heart)

35 summer's lease by GallifreyIsBurning. ouaghhhhh i remember being so sad when it ended (it has a good ending ! but i was sad when it was over...) and anything else by them ! they write such lovely fics

36 anything by (typed as seen on ao3): shealwaysreads (onereader), bryoneybrynn, justlikewriting, harryromper, blamebrampton

37 checkmate by nutmeg223344. DRON FRIENDSHIP DRON FRIENDSHIP YAAAYYAYAYAYYAAY

38 the world starts here by bafflinghaze

39 the way these days seem to go and go by FireTheSound

40 from love, obviously by bizarrestars

41 faint indirections by ignatiustrout

42 defining dickhead by who_la_hoop

43 to be like geese by Writ_and_romance

44 hermione grangers hogwarts crammer for delinquents on the run by waspabi. theyre all kinda friennndds theyre jakjfsljfkasruiwjksdf this is so interesting...

45 dear cousin, love regulus by LLAP15, XxTheDarkLordxX

46 nott to worry by Brokenpitchpipe

47 rapidly becoming by Ayes

48 its saturday, remind me im alive by Drarrelie

49 the malfoy conundrum by Omi_Ohmy.

50 DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN BY DRACOWILLHEARABOUT THIS. another fix-it fic!!! i loooveee it it also holds a special place in my heart... i love when. when the friendships...

51 sike theres no more recs. this is like 1/6 of my bookmarks okay i held back

drarry fic recs pretty please?

the only ones i’ve read so far are Running on Air by eleventy7, and Any Instrument by dicta_contrion.

i really did like them but i still didn’t fully get into the ship so any recs you think i could obsess over are much appreciated (i don’t mind if they’re long or short)

okay thank uuu <3

[chrisevansonly]

Miscommunication

Chris Evans x Female Reader

Summary: You rarely argue, hating confrontation you tend to avoid it at all costs, but when a miscommunication happens and you overhear something with no context, tensions bubble over and you’re stuck in your least favourite spot

Warnings: angst, body insecurities, miscommunication, yelling, swearing, slight mention of eating disorder/food insecurity, happy ending<3

A/N: I love a good angst to happy ending, and I decided to give a lil argument a go, I really need to try and get more confident in my writing because I constantly feel like its horrible hahaha, anyway being a mid size gal who has lost a lot of weight, I wanted to write something to include the girls who aren’t thin, and who do have a belly, thicker thighs, because sometimes bigger girls are left out. There is nothing wrong with your bodies, no matter what size you are from a 00-20+ you’re beautiful and you deserve to be loved and accepted for you<3

Word Count: 1,257

 Being a girl who’s a little on the bigger side, well I guess midsize would be the term everyone’s using these days, you’d often have good and bad days, that was just a part of the journey to self-love and to becoming more confident in your own skin. You were a confident woman, owning your body, wearing what you loved to wear, and you also happened to have a boyfriend who loved you unconditionally, and was your biggest hype man. Reminding you every day how much he loved you, from leaving sticky notes on the mirrors in the house with reminders or little quotes of motivation. If you had a bad day with eating, he’d be right beside you, making small snacks and eating with you, to encouraging and celebrating your little accomplishments with every meal. Chris was truly your number one fan, and always made sure he supported you in any way he possible could, so it certainly surprised you when you accidentally overheard a conversation you felt wasn’t meant to be heard 

“there’s no way she’s going to fit into that…are you kidding me?”

“I mean if only there was a way that would even work.”

“No, it’ll look horrible…”

“I don’t even want to picture her wearing that.”

You didn’t listen in much after that because despite not knowing who or what he was talking about, your brain immediately went to flight mode, and you were in your shared bedroom within seconds. You felt disgusted with yourself, to think Chris would be talking about you like that to someone else, it made your stomach churn, the urge to get rid of everything you’d had to eat that day surfacing up. You didn’t even want to look at yourself in the mirror, taking down all those stupid sticky notes he put on them, because as far as you knew, it was all a lie now anyway. You let yourself sulk for some of the afternoon before going down to the kitchen to get a glass of water, your stomach rumbling quietly but your appetite long gone. Chris was looking through the fridge no doubt searching for something to whip together for lunch 

“Hey baby, you getting hungry?”

You shook your head grabbing a glass from the cupboard in front of you 

“No thanks”

He watched you silently for a few moments as you got your water, his eyes trained on you, the feeling of him staring pausing your movements while you looked at him

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just you haven’t eaten since breakfast…are you sure you aren’t hungry?”

So now suddenly he cares if you’re hungry or not?

“Why do you care if I’m hungry or not.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You rolled your eyes not wanting to start a huge fight or argument but before you could leave the kitchen, he grabbed a hold of your elbow gently 

“Honey what the hell is going on?”

���You of all people should know Chris.” 

He furrowed his brows, and you could tell he was wracking his brain trying to figure out what the problem could be 

“Well, I clearly don’t, so If you could enlighten me as to why you’re so angry that would be great.”

“Figure it out.” 

You turned and went towards your bedroom again, Chris hot on your heels

“We aren’t fucking playing this game y/n, I’m not chasing after you trying to figure out why you’re upset, so quit running away and talk to me!”

“I heard you on goddamn phone this morning okay!”

He shook his head his hand coming up to rub his face gently 

“Okay? What’s wrong with me being on the phone…am I not allowed to do that?”

“It’s not the phone, it’s what you said! There’s no way she’s going to fit in that, I don’t even want to picture her wearing that, it’ll look horrible! It doesn’t take a fucking genius to figure out that conversation was about me Chris! I get it, I’m not some stick thin vogue model, I don’t fit into everything, I fucking get that. I would have n-never guessed you of all p-people would point that out to someone over the phone.” 

His expression dropped instantly, and he moved toward you to take your hands in his but you stepped back 

“I get it okay, I’m gross to look at, embarrassing to be around, I already knew a-all of that, I thought i-it didn’t bother you, apparently I was wrong.”

When the tears started to fall down your cheeks, Chris was quick to pull you to him, holding you as if you were going to disappear before his eyes, your body shaking against him as your thoughts ran rampant 

“Oh baby…. I’m so sorry, honey this whole thing is a miscommunication, I wasn’t saying anything bad about you, I would never, but I know why you’d think that I should have worded it differently”

You sniffled against the fabric of his sweater, not moving from his embrace, your silence allowing him to continue 

“I was having something special designed for you, and the company got your size wrong, and I was frustrated because I had told them hundreds of times, I was upset because I knew it would make you uncomfortable and wouldn’t highlight how beautiful you are, but I guess my choice in words were shit. I promise you baby I love you and your body so much, there is nothing horrible about you, there is nothing embarrassing about you. I am so fucking fortunate to get to love all of you every day, flaws and all, even though you’re absolutely perfect in my eyes.”

He pulled back slightly so he could take your face in his hands, a sad smile tugging at his lips while his thumbs wiped away your tears 

“You are everything to me and more pretty girl, I promise you, there is nothing in this world that can convince me you aren’t endgame for me, I love you with everything in me, and I need you to know how beautiful you are to me.”

“I’m s-sorry...”

He shook his head pressing a gentle kiss to your lips 

“You don’t need to say sorry honey, I should have made my intentions more clear on the phone, that’s my fault”

You moved back to rest your head against his chest, and he rubbed his hands up and down your back soothingly, calming you down

“I love you so much, I want you to know that you are perfect just the way you are. Always.”

“I love you too, I’m sorry I jumped to the worst conclusion”

Chris tightened his hold on you hating the fact that he made you feel this way 

“You don’t need to apologize to me baby, I promise…now can I make you some lunch to make up for this?”

Your stomach growling in response made him chuckle quietly, giving him the answer, he needed

“So, lunch and then I need to make some updated sticky notes…seems like some have gone missing.”

Chris stuck to his word, making the two of you some food before sitting down and eating it with you, before grabbing his sticky note pads and writing little reminders on them to stick to the mirrors in your bedroom again. A constant note that would continue to let you know just how much he loved you and everything you offered him, because at the end of the day, you were perfect for him, just like he was for you. 

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 6

welcome the the sixth fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

1. Chapped Lips by Creatortan

Lance's lips were a distraction, sometimes. Keith just couldn't keep his eyes off of them.

i read this one and forget to bookmark it and it haunted my mind for WEEKS as i desperately tried to find it again. i went bonkers bc i wanted to reread it so bad, bc it is EXCELLENT. its fun and gay and the team as family dynamics are AMAZING, no team bashing here!! and as usual the pining was chefs kiss.

2. Mine by Anonymous [EXPLICIT, ABO]

How do Lance and Keith react when the other is kidnapped?

Keith goes feral. Lance becomes deadly.

yeah, yeah, i know. another omegaverse. absolutely feel free to avoid this one if it’s not ur thing, i know it’s not for everyone, but it was one of my first pieces of bamf unhinged lance and i refuse to be ashamed of liking it lmao. also i think it’s fair to say that this fic inspired my unhinged batshit lance fic, at least a little. give it a try if ur like me an abo is a guilty pleasure lmao

3. the way i love you by @taylortot

quiet moments in which keith and lance fall in love. and kiss a lot. post s7.

words cannot explain how much this series means to me. genuinely a series that is so poetically soft and loving that it makes tears well in your eyes. i started reading this series right when i turned 16, and idk it truly made something crack in fizzle in my brain, it made me realise how careful and choosing love is. i have read this series more times than i can count, definitely one of the top ten, and there are lines from this fic that i repeat to myself when i am looking for hope. i know it hasn’t been touched since 2020 but i will be watching it carefully and hoping for years to come. (my favourite, in the series, although it was hard to choose, is i want to kiss you there)

4. Read Label: Lance McClain’s Boyfriend by @bleusarcelle

“You know I’m not ashamed, right?” Lance meets his gaze sheepishly. “Like, I’m not ashamed of you, of us. Far from it, babe, I swear –”

“Lance,” Keith cuts in kindly, smiling warmly at the teen in his arms. “Believe me, I know but I do want to tell the world what you mean to me. I wanna start with our team, our family.”

“You should come with a warning,” Lance whispers, stroking Keith’s chin fondly as he drops his voice. “Caution: words that leave these lips may cause falling deeper in love. Thank you for shopping at Mullets4sales.com.”

Keith throws his head back as he shakes with laughter. Lance grins proudly at sound before he props himself on the bed and drops unceremoniously on top of his giggling boyfriend’s chest.

“But yeah, yes; let’s tell them after dinner.”

[Or the one where the team is on their way back home and stop on a planet where a pissy prince drugs Keith with a love potion and Lance has to endure watching his secret boyfriend being lovestruck on someone else that isn't him.]

bleusarcelle always has and always will be one of the core founders of this fandom fr. trust me when i tell u their work was THE work. i remember greedily reading every fic of theirs several time, and i still read several of them regularly. but i will always be a sucker for the secret relationship trope. and this one managed to have that trope with none of the team bashing or miscommunication garbage so it’s a banger from the get-go fr

5. When Moonlight Touches Us by @pmwrites-blog1

Branches scratched his cheeks as he ran through the woods. Out of breath and covered in mud, Lance eventually crawled back under the fence onto the school grounds. He stopped at the large fountain in the plaza, leaning heavily on it. He splashed his face to wake himself up.

It didn’t work. Keith was real.

-

Based on 214b's Gargoyle AU

THIS IS MY FAVOURITE VOLTRON FIC OF ALL TIME. i dont know why. i have no idea why ive latched onto this fic so specifcally, what about this fic just makes me want to reread it again and again, but if i could print this aand bind it and keep a hardcopy with me every day of my life i would. im obsessed with it. beauty and the beast who?? like this fic is everything to me. i cannot recommend it enough. im fully convinced this fic did something fundamental to my brain. nothing i write will ever be so dear to me as this fic and that’s literally okay. the stars aligned to make this fic possible. is it the fact that i know there’s pretzellus art for it and so the whole story was cemented into my brain? possibly. i truly do not know. but i am fully obsessed with this story and likely will be for infinity

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!  

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing xiv.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 5, 690

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

hello!!!! we’re here at fourteen chapters omg ✨✨when i first started this series it was mostly self-indulgent and now there are people who actually enjoy reading it??🥺 it almost doesn’t seem real T.T 

thank you so much for the love and support!!! just so I don't give too much spoilers for this chap - I apologise to my fellow geminis for the potential slander 🤣 this is more of a self-drag lmaooo 

anyway, I hope you enjoy this chap!!!

“Ah. I’m getting allergies.” Yena sniffs, scrunching her nose.

You furrow your brows in concern, “Are you okay? Do you need any medicine?”

“It’s just the seasonal changes,” She brushes you off.

You nod in understanding, “I get it. My mom has horrible reactions towards pollen so—”

“I’m not allergic to flowers.” She blinks.

“Then what—?”

“It’s Gemini season. It’s like—literally the worst time of the year.” She blinks.

You gawk at her, taking a whole ten seconds to process her serious tone when she doesn’t waver under your scrutiny.

“I’m a Gemini,” You inform her slowly.

“I mean …” She shrugs all as you scowl at her, opting to throw the closest object you had, which was your favourite pen so you decide against it; simply shooting her the meanest glare you could possibly muster.

“Look, it’s not you,” She sighs, and you’re half-expecting her to finish with an it’s me to make you scoff, “It’s me.” And there you go. “I mean, it’s Gemini’s in general because they’re two-faced bitches who have the worst emotional attachment issues. Like they’re literally what the opposite of glue is. And they’re so over-analytical. How is it like psychoanalysing every person you meet only to hurt your own feelings and sulk about it?”

You blink.

“I mean it’s not you but if the shoe fits.” She says casually, plopping a grape into her mouth that you’re tempted to slap away.

“You’re so mean!” You pout indignantly.

She cackles, throwing her head back as you continue to sulk. You weren’t that bad. You just … you were risk-averse! You liked having the freedom to observe everyone and anyone and package them into tiny compartments in your head so you could understand them better. You weren’t … that Gemini.

“You’re so cute,” She coos pinching your cheeks. “No wonder Beef One and Beef Two like you so much.” She teases.

Your first reaction is to blush because you know who exactly she’s talking about, but you have more pressing matters, like—

“You have nicknames for them?” You ask, baffled.

“Hey, I wasn’t friends with many girls in high school. Don’t girls usually have nicknames for their crushes?” She says through a pout.

You stay expressionless as you try to gauge the level of seriousness you can extract from her tone.

You realise she’s dead serious.

“Yeah, but we’re in college,” You argue, scrunching your nose, “And sides’, it’s not like they’re strangers. We know them.”

She rolls her eyes, waving you off like you were the inconvenience here. Then she leans forward, her eyes twinkling as she takes a complete one-eighty that you try to adjust to.

“So … you Gemini hoe, what’s your plans?” She nudges you.

You raise a brow, “Did you just call me a—?”

“Plans, ___. Stay on track.” She scolds.

You sigh, still fond but you pretend to be annoyed. You really couldn’t get annoyed with Yena. After all, the more time you spend with her the more you realise how much life sucked before you had her in your life. You spent each moment learning more about her quirks and habits, her choice of words that made you giggle or laugh until you were crying.

And you realise that this is how she loves, a little rough but welcomed nonetheless.

“If you’re talking about my birthday then … not much. I’m probably stuck doing admin work for the college’s charity programme.” You shrug, stabbing a fork into your soiled salad.

Yena gapes at you, “Not much—excuse me? It’s your birthday! You’re turning twenty-five!” 

You look at her dryly, “I’ve been twenty-five since the year—”

She groans, “That’s not the same! You’re like—officially twenty-five. You’re literally hitting the mark for a quarter-life crisis. Isn’t that something to celebrate?” 

“Me going through an existential crisis at the end of my degree is not how I want to celebrate my birthday but okay,” You blink.

She rolls her eyes at your realism.

“That’s not the point. Point is, this is our first birthday together and I want it to be special.” She points out.

You snort, “What? Are we doubling my birthday as our monthsary or something?”

She shoves you with a brute force that has you snickering but she continues to pester you anyway.

“You’re so dumb. So smart, but so dumb,” She shakes her head, “You’re always studying or doing some form of work that requires the use of more than one brain cell. You deserve a break. Besides, you have two dudes to pick from on how you’d like to be wined and dined and—”

“Yena!” You whine.

“—it’ll be like an episode of the Bachelorette! But just with a super cool and smart best friend that’ll make the decision for you. It’s not your birthday. It’s ours.” She emphasises towards the end.

You stare at her for a long second, before the two of you are bursting into laughter at the absurdity of her statement. 

It was nice, just to laugh about things without having your heart feel so heavy. Even if it was a mild distraction, it was still wholly pleasant to be able to just talk about mindless things that didn’t require much mental gymnastics to navigate the conversation with.

“What are the two of you laughing about?” Taehyung and Jimin arrive at impeccable timing, sliding into the booth with their own packaged food. It’s very college-student-esque, a cute paper (because no plastic) container filled with an array of assortments.

“None of your XY chromosomes business.” Yena retorts.

Jimin blinks, “You are literally so hostile.”

“Then don’t give me a reason to be.” She sticks her tongue out petulantly.

You laugh, nudging her with your shoulder, “Be nice.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes but manages to keep a civil smile on his face. Always the more rational one between the two. 

“Anyway, Yena definitely isn’t going to answer me so, what’s up?” He turns to look at you.

You roll your eyes but it’s half-hearted, “She wants to celebrate my birthday like we’re on the Bachelorette.”

“Like you’re on the Bachelorette.” She corrects.

“Oh my God, our baby’s turning twenty-five!” Jimin coos at the reminder, pinching your cheeks as he coddles you. You scowl and weakly shove him away, even if you preen under the attention.

“I’m literally older than the both of you.” You huff.

Yena blinks, “There’s no way I’m the oldest person at this table.”

Taehyung furrows his brows, “Wait—how old are you?”

She sends him a scathing glare that has his arms raised up in defence.

“Jeez, okay. Don’t answer.”

“I’m going to answer because you told me not to.” She clips. “I’m twenty-seven.”

Jimin blinks, “No wonder you and Yoongi hyung are so alike.”

You almost miss it, but as Yena so eloquently pointed out, you were a sucker for psychoanalysing people (even if you didn’t want to admit it yet) that you notice the way she flushes ever so slightly as she scoffs.

“Him? How dare you compare me to that sorry excuse of a—!”

“Okay, everyone is beneath you. I’m sorry your highness.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

You make a note to ask her about it because you know for a fact that Yoongi ‘complains’ about Yena every hour he can. It’s almost as if he can’t go long enough without mentioning her.

You smile to yourself as you duck your head.

“Exactly,” She flips her hair over her shoulders before turning to face you. “Anyway, back to you—our baby.”

Taehyung nods, “Exactly, the baby.”

You scrunch your nose, “Don’t coddle me.”

He pats your head before cooing at you like he would to an actual baby, “But you’re just so cute. You’re too good for this shitty world. Too good for the likes of mere mortals like us.”

“Not me.” Yena blinks before gesturing to their bodies, “You.”

Jimin sticks his tongue out in retaliation as you sigh at their never-ending bickering.

Somehow … it felt right. You think it most of the times but you don’t know any other way to describe how it feels to be back with your friends, laughing, bickering and just appreciating their presence.

When you and Jungkook had your issues, it was like you made the conscious choice to avoid everyone and anyone as much as you could, and any interaction you had during that period was purely out of coincidences and not the intention. You remember actively avoiding Jimin and Taehyung because it felt too draining to pretend like you didn’t have a battle in your head. Even studying or spending time with Namjoon made you feel guilty, the thought of Jungkook lingering in your mind. Yena was there through it all, but even then you saw her as much as you did with any of your classmates you so happened to share a class with.

In fact, if it weren’t for Yena you’d probably have zero social interactions as a whole because she just knew. She somehow picked up on your internal conflicts but never outwardly shamed you or confronted you about it. All she did was be there for you, offering you her presence and you were grateful.

So, yeah. Things were better, but your heart was still at its core—confused. Your feelings for Jungkook didn’t disappear overnight and you knew that you were the one that asked for space.

You forgave him … you did, honestly. But there are things you can’t forget, and those are the things that you wished you could. The words he said in principle, was outright shitty. But the fact that it came from him only poked at every single one of your insecurities that you developed over the years.

You knew it wasn’t healthy to compare yourself to other women when they were living vastly different lives than you were, but it’s proven difficult when you’re forced to see these type of women every day, at college, in your community work or on the media. 

Believing Jungkook’s apparent feelings for you was harder because, well. Jungkook was Jungkook. He wasn’t just another guy, and despite his shortcomings, he had more merits than he’d let on and you knew that people saw that. It was also the fact that Jungkook had a charm that drew all types of people in. He was soft-spoken but passionate, and people loved a quiet achiever.

You … knew about the women. Way before Jennie and way before the thing between the two of you happened. Jimin and Taehyung would always update you about the new fling or girl he had tied to his hip just as he was in his final year in high school. You had to force a smile every single time they’d snicker and joke about how your Jungkook suddenly became a man overnight.

And you noticed the trend with the women he liked. They were … captivating. Beautiful wasn’t even enough to describe them because they looked like they could carry the world on their shoulders and spark immense change with just the movement of their lips. They were confident and charismatic, outgoing and just the right amount of flirty. You were anything but.

It sucked, majorly, because you spent years agonising over the fact that you were already coined with the older sister title in the group because of the way you acted—just a little more uptight than the average woman your age. You were quiet but loud in the right company; you didn’t like crowds, socialising or mingling around with people you didn’t know and based on your observations it seemed like that was the only thing that Jungkook’s been doing ever since he made it to senior year in high school, and even in the first years of college.

You don’t resent him, you think. You couldn’t blame him because you weren’t honest either. You consented, to all of the kisses and touches even if he hadn’t officially had sex with you. You wanted to, but you were terrified. Not at the prospect of penetration but at the prospect of not being enough and the fact that Jungkook was the only person you wanted to have sex with while he had options that were far more attractive and experienced than you were.

That’s why you needed time because at least you could get your shit together even if it was an uphill battle.

“Earth to ____?” Taehyung waves a hand in front of your face with a concerned expression.

You blink, snapping out of your daze as you offer a meek smile and an apology.

“We just asked you if you wanted a small get together at Tae’s and I’s place for your birthday?” Jimin asks.

“Really?” You beam. That was exactly what you preferred.

“Yeah, we know you don’t like clubs and stuff. Just a small and intimate gathering with all your best buds.” He grins.

You nod your head, but Yena beats you to a response.

“By best buds you mean the three friends she has, which is us and the two meatheads duelling for her affection.” She snorts.

You flush, “Y-Yena!”

Taehyung snickers at your embarrassment.

“It doesn’t help that both of them are literally the biggest dudes on the football team. It’s literally like watching King Kong and Godzilla getting into a fight for world domination.”

Jimin throws his back in laughter as you fold your arms across your chest at post at the way your friends are practically crying in laughter at the image. Jimin was clutching onto Taehyung for his dear life because if he didn’t then he’d fall off the chair.

“Stop,” You whine, “you guys are being mean.”

“Oh my God, you’re literally the only person on this earth that would take two people fighting for your attention as an offence.” Taehyung groans.

“I-It’s not that!” You deny exasperatedly, “I-It’s just … awkward …”

Jimin sighs with a small smile, patting your head.

“If it’s any consolation I think it’s offensive that Jungkook thinks he even has the right to breathe in—”

“Jimin!”

“Wow. It really is like King Kong and Godzilla.” Jimin whistles lowly, eyeing the scene before him with amusement lingering in his eyes.

“Do you think they’re gonna start slamming their chests soon or …?” Taehyung trails off in a whisper, leaning into Jimin so that the two other men wouldn’t notice.

“I can literally hear you.” You say dryly.

Jimin offers you a plastic smile, “You’re meant to hear us, babe. How about you try to tame them like Jane did with Tarzan?”

Jimin nearly shrieks when you shove him so fiercely that he topples over into Taehyung’s grasp as the second part of the duo only catches him in the process. 

You sigh, completely ignoring the way that Jimin’s muttering curses that were directed to you under his breath. Instead, you were transfixed on the scene before you—which specifically is Jungkook and Namjoon staring each other down through the mirror of the gym. You were lucky that it was just the five of you since Namjoon was able to use his captain privileges to book the gym because you had no idea how to explain the fact that two big-sized men were attempting to outdo each other in their circuit reps as if they were on a suicide mission.

“Listen, when I agreed to help you out with your sets I thought I was meant to help log it in for a report.” You exasperate, but the two men continue their manly lift-off as they huff and puff their exertion away.

“Trust me, you are helping. Being the motivation is more than—”

This time it’s Taehyung who faces your wrath as you thwack him upside the head. 

From where Jungkook and Namjoon were, Jungkook can only deliver death stares into the direction of his captain who returns it tenfold. He wasn’t even sure why they were doing this but something a flicked definitely switched in Jungkook when Namjoon (purposefully) revealed that you were helping out with something. At the gym. Supposedly alone.

Jungkook’s primitive side came out because the next thing Namjoon knew was that Jungkook managed to drag himself, and Jimin and Taehyung as a diversion. He still feels his chest swell with pride when recalling the scowl on Namjoon’s face when he entered the gym, all fake smiles and a pep in his step.

“____, could you help me spot?” Namjoon breathes, sitting up from whatever the hell he was doing with the barbell. You weren’t fixated with gym language and you weren’t even sure why he was asking you when there was an entire Jimin and Taehyung right next to you.

“Uh, okay sure—“

“Noona,” Jungkook calls.

You freeze.

“Jungkook … I thought we established that you don’t need to call me that anymore.” You raise an eyebrow.

You miss the obvious glare that Namjoon shoots his bitchass friend, as well as the snorts that leave Jimin and Taehyung’s mouth.

“Pay attention to me,” Jungkook pouts. Like, actually pouts. You somehow flush because he seemed so much like the younger version of Jungkook who used to always coddle you for attention.

“Okay but after I help—”

“Yeah. After she helps me.” Namjoon interjects, and you nearly jump at the way he’s suddenly behind you, more so—pressed against your back with his hands on your hips as he moves you aside to get to another piece of equipment.

Your breath hitches because while you weren’t exactly invested in Namjoon in the romantic sense, he was undeniably attractive and … big. You could salivate in private.

“Oh my God, do you see that?” Taehyung hisses in a hushed whisper.

“Hyung is petty,” Jimin gawks.

“This is Namjoon we’re talking about. Didn’t he steal all the umbrellas from your dorm because you ratted him out to the librarian when he broke a bookshelf?” Taehyung recalls.

Jimin pauses to retract his mind to that moment.

“He’s so petty and I’m living for it. Look at Kook’s face,” He snickers, nudging Taehyung with his shoulder.

Jungkook only can clench his jaw in return because he knew that you wouldn’t be a fan of him reaching out to strangle the shit out of Namjoon. But the older boy seems fine, if not pleased with how Jungkook’s fuming in his own spot.

“Let me just …” You cock a thumb to Namjoon, before releasing a breath of your own and going to help him with whatever he needed in the first place.

“Jimin can help him. I have a more pressing problem.” He complains.

You stop in your tracks before turning around, raising an eyebrow at Jungkook who finally sits up, still staring at you like you held all the solutions in the world.

“Literally wait for your turn,” Namjoon scowls.

“My arm hurts,” Jungkook says, raising his arm to show you. 

“I don’t … see anything?” You furrow your brows.

“Because my muscles hurt, Noona,” Jungkook emphasises with a flex of his bicep and you can feel yourself get hot in the way your eyes can’t stray away.

You’re momentarily distracted by the blatant display of muscle by Jungkook that you completely miss the way that Jimin and Taehyung are struggling to breathe because of how hard they’re stifling their laughter or the way that Namjoon is contemplating on throwing the nearest dumbbell into Jungkook’s direction.

You flush, “Okay, you know what? Wait here. Let me get the first aid kit.” You mumble, quickly scampering off to alleviate yourself from the situation.

The moment you leave the room, Namjoon takes two long strides until he reaches where Jungkook’s sat, before wrapping a hand around the arm that was supposedly hurt—and squeezes.

“Ow! What the fuck hyung?!” Jungkook shrieks.

“Don’t hyung me, you brat.” Namjoon seethes, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jungkook gapes, while Jimin and Taehyung watch in amusement.

“Me?! What’s wrong with you?” Jungkook retorts, equally as agitated, “Oh, _____, help spot me! Woe is me! Like she wouldn’t get crushed under you, you meathead!” 

“Like you’re any better,” Namjoon snaps, “Oh, Noona, pay attention to me. My arm hurts. You might as well have asked her to change your fucking diapers at the rate you’re acting like a damn child.”

“You’re the one that started all of this!” Jungkook exasperates, “With all due respect hyung, I love you and you’re my captain but I really feel like smashing your head into the wall right now.”

“That’s it?” Namjoon scoffs, “Well I’ll do you one better and let you know that every time you breathe in my direction I feel like—”

“Oh my God will you two idiots shut the fuck up?” Taehyung interjects, snapping at the two boys who pause, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Even Jimin is surprised at Taehyung’s intervention, purely because he was the type that usually let shit slide or let other people put problematic individuals into place. He was the mediator, the diplomat—not usually the aggressor.

“Wha—”

“Another peep and I’m going to smother your body under the dumbbells and leave you here to rot and die.” Taehyung seethes, staring straight into Jungkook’s soul.

That shuts him up.

“Both of you are acting like goddamn children, and for what? To battle out your masculinity to see who gets ____’s attention first?” Taehyung exasperates.

Namjoon clears his throat, “We were just—”

“—acting like a bunch of barbarians who’s never seen civilisation?” Taehyung retorts dryly, “Yeah. Because that’s exactly what this looks like. The two of you are so petty and for what? You two are literally rubbing the last remaining brain cells you have with each other but nothing is coming out from it. Like—nothing. Do you think she’d give a shit which one of you can lift more reps? That means absolutely nothing! She’s already freaked the fuck out at the prospect of her childhood best friend being in love with her and now we have Big Tit Number One and Two battling it out like you’re in the Greek Olympics.”

Jungkook blinks, and Jimin is mildly impressed.

“So before she comes back and tends to Jungkook’s hurt muscle,” Taehyung sneers, eyes narrowing at a guilty-looking Jungkook, “Both of you better sort your shit out.”

Namjoon flushes, embarrassed at the prospect of being called out, all while Jungkook is avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Oh my God, do you have a crush on each other or something? Apologise!” Taehyung gestures towards the two boys who awkwardly blink at each other, feeling much like reprimanded children.

It’s Namjoon who breaks the silence first, clearly the more mature one in the situation.

“Look … Jungkook,” He sighs, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … drag it out like this. I don’t mean it maliciously and you’re my friend and teammate, so I’d really hate if a girl got in the way.”

Jungkook nibbles on his lips, eyebrows still scrunched; and the irrational part of him tells him to ignore the apology. But with the way that Taehyung is glaring him down, with Jimin’s expectant gaze, he knows that he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“I’m sorry … too,” he winces at his own voice, “But just to let you know … I really …” He shuts his eyes, feeling his chest tighten when he tries to force the words out, “She isn’t just … a girl to me, hyung. I really, really like her. And—I know you like her too but … I fucked up and I really want to make things right and seeing you—”

Jungkook is flushing while he rambles on, fully aware that the rest of his friends are listening intently to him speaking his heart. But a hand rests itself on his shoulder, and when Jungkook opens his eyes he sees Namjoon offering him a gentle smile.

“I know,” He says, “I know I said I wouldn’t back off …” He trails off and Jungkook recalls the conversation he had with him in the very same gym just a few weeks back, “But I don’t think I can compete with a decade long love story.” 

Jungkook scoffs, though his ears are flushed.

“It’s really not—”

Namjoon waves him off, clasping a tight hand onto his back that tells him it’s okay, and whatever that was going on would get better. And Jungkook feels marginally better and allows himself to let out a sigh of release.

“So are the two of you gonna kiss or what?” Jimin asks in the midst of the silence.

Namjoon glares at the boy, “Don’t make me give you an extra ten laps.”

He backs down immediately, raising his hands up in defence. And at that moment, you return, all smiles and with a pant as you raise the first aid kit up.

“Your arm?” You smile sweetly, and Jungkook can only offer a weak on in return.

“Can I ask you something?��� 

“Depends. Will I have to run from the government if I answer you honestly?” Yena ponders out loud.

You roll your eyes but shake your head anyway. The two of you were meant to be cooking dinner but you’ve surrendered yourself to Netflix and Yena’s witty live commentary on horrible films you were scrolling through an hour earlier. Though, your head wasn’t quite in it, to begin with; your thoughts drifting to other aspects, ones that you thought too hard for and didn’t necessarily know the answer to.

It was frustrating, the way that you wanted to have a solution for everything but overthought every single case that happens to pass by your mind. 

“No one’s hunting anyone down, your anarchist,” You say, “This is a little … personal.” 

You didn’t have any girl friends prior to Yena, and that was your first mistake. You weren’t the person that actively avoided having girl friends because you thought they were dramatic or overly emotional but purely because you never knew how to befriend women. It was weird—being a woman yet being muddled with your own sense of femininity that suppressed your ability to form meaningful friendships with your women peers.

Throughout most of your childhood and teenaged life, you only had Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook. While they were more than enough to keep your memories cheerful and filled with laughter, there were more personal things that you couldn’t quite approach them with. They had each other to confide in their ‘manly’ discussions, small talk that you’d often flush at—but you couldn’t ask them the same things you wanted to.

You knew, that on a fundamental level that your personal things were just … things. It wasn’t that deep, nor did it require a PhD in Gender Studies to fully understand the nuance of periods or apparent ‘girl’ problems; you just needed to listen. But you were timid, and you got embarrassed super easily—so that never boded well whenever you’d want to approach them with a question of your own.

But now, you had Yena—debatably the most open and understanding person you’ve met in your life; and you owed it to yourself, and her—to be honest, to live yourself vicariously in your girl best friends eyes—and ask:

“How do you have sex?”

Granted, there was definitely a smoother way of peeling off the bandaid, but you supposed if you were going to be discussing this one way or another, you’d go big or go home.

“I’m sorry,” She coughs, “What?”

You blink.

“Sorry, I guess I should’ve asked if you were a virgin first …” You mumble.

Yena stares at you with a stupefied expression as she gapes at you.

“Hey, repeat after me: candy, tree and cat.” She grabs you by your shoulders.

“I’m not cerebrally compromised, Yena,” you say dryly.

“Repeat,” She glares.

You huff, shoving her hand off your shoulder.

“Candy, tree and cat. There, happy?” You huff.

She eyes you weirdly as you sigh. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes!” You exasperate, “So like … how? Do you just? Penetrate?”

Yena blinks one more time, her eyes trailing to the ceiling as she asks for a higher being to give her strength before she returns her gaze onto your figure.

“Babe, that is literally the unsexiest way to approach sex.” 

“Penetration?” You furrow your brows.

She scrunches her brows, “No.” She gestures to you, “That.”

You scowl.

“I don’t know how to approach sex! That’s why I’m asking you. I literally don’t know who else to approach. If I went to Jimin or Taehyung I’m pretty sure they’d just stare at me and cry. Namjoon is out of the picture because he’d likely approach sex textbook style and I don’t need that level of detail right now. I definitely can’t ask Jungkook because he’s the guy I wanna have sex with. So yeah. I’m here because you’re a woman and the only person I can have a full conversation with without losing my will to live.”

Yena gawks at you, jaw slack as you finish your ramble; ears flushed.

“… you …” She begins, wracking her brain for the words that seem to fail her, “… okay. You know what, the fact that you’re here and putting your big girl pants on and asking me this is a feat in itself so I’m going to just ignore the fact that you said you wanted to have sex with Jungkook.”

You flush, “I was word vomiting—”

“Ah,” She holds her hands up, levelling you with a knowing glare, “If you want honest, you be honest too.”

You slump in your seat, sighing as you nod your head defeatedly.

“Firstly, I’m not a virgin. I could never be a virgin.” Yena declares, “Granted, I’ve slept with three people and two of them were women. But the idiot I lost my virginity to was, unfortunately, of XY chromosomes so … I guess I can answer your questions.”

“I mean … I know how sex works but … approaching it …” You mutter.

“And sex isn’t this groundbreaking act that requires Einstein’s IQ to partake in. It’s both intimate and not, and that’s definitely a personal preference. You can know the semantics of how people have sex, for hets in this case, which is just the classic ol’ penetration method where the penis enters the—”

“Your point?” You exasperate.

“—okay, I got a little carried away. But really, sex isn’t … difficult. It’s scary, I’ll give you that. But you don’t go into your first time thinking you’ll be great at it. Hell, you won’t even like sex that much your first few times unless your partner is a sex demon or something.”

“I mean when Jungkook …” You shudder, “When he … I … you know, did things … it felt …” You fiddle with your fingers. Your ears were undoubtedly on fire, and you were so embarrassed saying these things out loud because it was just so awkward!

“Good? You know I’m not going to judge you for it,” she says pointedly, “That’s what friends are for, right?”

You flush, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment. You knew that Yena would never judge you for something as trivial and as unimportant as your sexual endeavours, but this was still a road you’ve yet to properly navigate yourself.

“I … came,” you wince at your breathy voice, “It felt good. And … he’s experienced, you know? I just don’t want to …”

Yena looks at you inquisitively.

“You don’t want to …?”

You sigh deeply, considering your next words with a soft murmur, “I don’t want to not live up to his expectations, you know?”

She frowns at you, “Jungkook’s made some mistakes but you said it yourself. He’s in love with you,” she says softly, “There’s no pressure to have sex with him just because it’s out in the open now, you know?”

You nibble on your lips.

“It’s … more than just that,” you tell her, “I told him I needed time, and really, I do. But it isn’t because I’m confused. I mean, kind of—but really it’s because I don’t want to walk into something and disappoint him … I’m just … scared.”

Yena holds your hand in hers while offering you a gentle smile.

“It’s valid that you’re scared. But there really isn’t anything that can come out of being scared right now. The two of you worked through an obstacle, and here you are creating another one that doesn’t quite exist yet. Trust me, when the time feels right, it does. And you’ll feel ready. Will you still be scared? Maybe. But it’ll feel like it’s meant to fit within your timeline.”

You nibble on your lips, “Is it bad that I’m overthinking this?” You wince.

Yena shrugs her shoulders, “Like everything else in your life?” She teases.

You whine, shoving at her shoulder playfully where all Yena does is snicker in response. You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting out of the conversation, even if it was vaguely about the ins and outs of sexual exploration. And she was right, you’ll always be afraid of something, whether it’ll benefit you or harm you because that’s what change does. It shifts your comfort zone into a space that may be unfamiliar but necessary.

You lean into Yena’s shoulder, and a wave of overwhelming emotion washes upon you when you look at her. You really didn’t know how you survived a time without Yena in your life. And as if she’s noticed your glassy gaze, she raises an eyebrow at you.

“What are you looking at?”

You grin at her, all teeth and gums on display as you hug onto her arm like a koala.

“I’m just really happy you’re in my life.” You sigh wistfully.

She pauses for one whole second before she snorts.

“Wow, talk about sex once and suddenly you’re in love with me?” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, “Tell Jeon and Kim that you’re mine now.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes.

“They’re not even competing in the same league as you are,” you assure her.

She smiles.

“So … does that mean I don’t need to get you a birthday gift?”

That earns a thwack on her shoulder.

[ugh-againwiththenames]

So Many Fanfics So Little Time

This is just my list, I have seen so many (but if you want to use it it’s all yours too!).  I’m not a writer.  But I am a hell of a reader. Voracious one might argue. I just wanted to track my progress through the weeds of the absolutely never ending supply of Destiel and Cockles fanfic. 

Read on if you want to see what I’ve read, and what I’ve thought. I am but one person with opinions - some of them may be unpopular - some of them you might agree with, but if you find something you haven’t read here, I encourage you to do so. 

Honestly, this is just so I can track what I have read already, and when my friends ask, I can reference something easily. I have found some different fics on all kinds of ‘best of’ lists all over the interwebs. And I love recs - so rec away friends. 

As someone who reads a solid 40 novels a year typically, I don’t come by the “I read a lot” innocently. I do actually read a LOT.  When not reading fanfic (a new obsession, all things being fair), I usually read a lot of Fantasy/high fantasy, romance/erotica, and or YA (yeah, that was a bit of a ride no?).  So from this one might digress that I like fluffy, cute stories, complicated and supernatural/paranormal type stories, and I sure do not shy away from violence or smut (or maybe violence with smut? *smirk*). 

I have read all of these in the last 2-3 months (I will continue to add as I go). I had never read a fanfic until 2-3 months ago.  A lot of these wonderful people are on here, and I mean you no offence by not directly tagging you - I’m still learning how to actually properly use this site. Links to AO3 are included (and I love you all). 

These aren’t necessarily in any real order - I did read T&S first, followed by 91W, and 4LW...after that it’s just a shit show of Long or Short, Destiel or Cockles - smorgasbord. Some of these are the most popular Fics out there, and others I’ve never seen recc’d anywhere (just sort of accidentally happened upon them).  So let’s get to it, shall we? 

Twist and Shout - ok look. I understand the stigma associated with this one, but it was the FIRST one I read. It was the ball that shot me down the hill, and I haven’t stopped since. So. I loved it. I CRIED like a baby. SOBBED. It was not the quality of the writing but the way the story was developed and delivered. I have Never Cried Like This Reading a Story IN MY LIFE. It’s a rite of passage. Read It and have an opinion - it doesn’t need to be mine.  

Author(s): gabriel, standbyme   https://archiveofourown.org/works/537876/chapters/955188

Ninety-One Whiskey - aka 91W, it is mentioned so much, and is SO worth the read.  I continued my dive into the war fics (not typically my bag really and here I was reading 2 in a row).  There are a couple of followup stories as well to this series (and yes, I’ve read them all).  Although I’ll say that the original is my favourite. I often got lost in a bit of the War/Tactical descriptions, but would recommend it to anyone anyway. Ugh...the “stolen moments”...they were at the same time tragic and the most amazing things ever.  You feel me? no? go read it. 

Author:  komodobits   https://archiveofourown.org/works/2362190/chapters/5214500

Four Letter Word for Intercourse - aka 4LW.  OMG just, OMG. I loved this story. I loved it so much. I think I read it in a day.  Devoured it. It’s so HOT. Just read it. If you haven’t you’re missing out.  LEMME AT IT. I loved “knowing the secret”, and had some major anxiety about that realization dawning (I had to take a breath, and be like, no, no, this is gonna be a mess, but it’s gonna be SO GOOD - I was not disappointed).  There’s more than one work here too - read them all. PLEASE. 

Author: bendingsignpost  https://archiveofourown.org/works/16086839/chapters/37568591

Memories Bring Back Memories (Bring Back You) - This was the first Sobs one I read, but it sent me on a spree.  this is the Memory Loss one.  I have one piece of advice here - read everything by Sobsicles. You can thank me later...just go to her page, and fucking sort to supernatural (or not, read it all!) I’d list them but I’d fucking seriously be here all day.  Also, her tags make me laugh so hard.

Author:  sobsicles https://archiveofourown.org/works/24022945/chapters/57796885

Orpheus - I love this one too, Tattooed!Cas, my LOVE. paired with Mechanic!Dean, my HEART, #help.  Read this one in one evening as well. (I was on a roll).  It’s a one night stand that turns into more (much like my last relationship)....hmm...maybe this is why I was pulled in - although to be fair that is the last similarity to my shitty love life! I do not remember how I stumbled onto this one (tattooed Cas may have been the draw...tbh). Read the warnings though, there is some triggering stuff in this one - but if you can handle it, it’s definitely worth the read. 

Author: sysrae       https://archiveofourown.org/works/2364347/chapters/5220227

Have Love, Will Travel - Can you say no to Stripper!Dean? Cause I sure as hell cannot. Typical sort of character development here with Dean having trust issues, and Cas being painfully awkward...(but in like a super cute way?).  Would Recommend. 

Author: squeemonster   https://archiveofourown.org/works/565455/chapters/1011747

The Inexhaustible Silence of Houses - Change of pace here...It’s got a nice twist.  I didn’t actually clue into how it was going to end until very near the end (maybe I was being oblivious), when the realization came over me and I was...man. I was DONE IN.  I hope that doesn’t spoil (I need some kind of way of remembering them). Voiceless!Cas Hunter!Dean

Author: Askance (doomcountry)   https://archiveofourown.org/works/560268/chapters/1000755

Adagio - This is super short, and super cute. Honestly, I would read the whole thing just for the last line. It’ll take you less than an hour if I remember correctly. Go, I’ll wait. I squeeed. did you? 

Author: noangelsinthegarrison   https://archiveofourown.org/works/1397248/chapters/2928145

Any Little Heartache - super easy read (not in a bad way, but in a ‘you’ll fly through it’ way).  It’s mid-length, not graphic, but really fun hospital AU. HeartSurgeon!Dean / Nurse!Cas - enemies to lovers anyone? Fuck you to Fuck me? yeah. YUM. 

Author: followthattardis https://archiveofourown.org/works/5143376/chapters/11838311

Ad Astra - This is another short(ish) one, just one chapter.  And by that I mean that this is written like a very long poem. Cas as a star who has visited Dean many times over the years of his life, that culminates in 4x01 barn scene. It’s ‘awe’ sad. ‘puppy dog eyes’ sad. The writing format took me a bit to understand what was happening - it’s my lack of poetry knowledge, not the writing.  

Author: nhixxie https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013491

Ad Astra Per Aspera - This is a cute story.  ESL writer, no judgement.  I found this while looking for the one above, and thought the premise looked cute - and it was. Misunderstanding leading to Dean realizing he’s actually Bi.  Miscommunication leading to realization.  

Author: Riverchester https://archiveofourown.org/works/12354336/chapters/28101816

Psalm 40:2 - Time travel post-canon Cas and Pre-series Dean.  If you’re wondering how that works, strap in for this ride, it’s well worth it. 

Author: unicornpoe https://archiveofourown.org/works/30786425/chapters/75992444

Addicted to You - Warlock!Dean/Incubus!Cas - accidental ‘mating’ (I actually really don’t like that word, but there’s sort of no avoiding it in this situation). Cute story.  When you drunk dial a succubus and get an incubus instead...Whatever will we do? 

Author: Ltleflrt https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387346/chapters/9959288 

A Glimpse Beyond - End Fix-it. Not yet complete, 10 chapters so far...I want MORE! Reliving memories Dean/Cas & Sam/Eileen.   

Author: NorthernSparrow https://archiveofourown.org/works/27731689/chapters/67875925

Cas-ti-el - Please I want more...It’s like the story just started. Please write more of this story!! 1 chapter, it’s a trope prompt challenge, but I want it to be a full on story of its own. Imprinted names of their soul mates, Dean doesn’t understand his (because it’s in a different language)...I’m frustrated by wanting this story to keep going. 

Author:  Valinde (Valyria)  https://archiveofourown.org/works/1941591

Our Bodies, Posessed by Light - another short one. Not going to lie, this one took a little getting used to, and I can’t say that I enjoyed it too much for the sole purpose that the premise gave me the willies.  Cas has to vessel jump - ends up in Sam...I got through it, it had a good ending, but yeah, sorry. This just wasn’t for me. 

Author:  obstinatrix  https://archiveofourown.org/works/260289

Peanut Butter Pumpkin Wedding Cake - Waiter!Dean / Writer!Cas - This is so effing cute, just misunderstanding after misunderstanding bumbling around like the couple of dorks that they are. It’s only one chapter. 100% would recommend. 

Author:  Sparseparsley https://archiveofourown.org/works/223962

Destiel, Actually - This is another super cute story, 5 chapters. Gabriel playing a singular role in putting Dean and Cas in awkward positions to push them together.  I fucking DIED at “oh, I am the sub” - needs context, but I guarantee you that you’ll laugh out loud...

Author:  Bexism  https://archiveofourown.org/works/399934/chapters/658398

The Smell Before the Rain - This was my first A/B/O - a big apology to all those who are into mpreg and whatnot, this was my lesson that I am not. this was not for me. Also - I’m a firm Cas (Alpha/Dom) believer, and i’m good with switch Cas, but it’s hard for me to take him being the full Omega here, when paired with the rest I just couldn’t do it. I finished it, but, not my thing. I know now. 

Author: jscribbles https://archiveofourown.org/works/22355230/chapters/53406127

Crazy Diamonds - This is another short one, only 3 chapters - it’s a body swap for Dean, 4x02 him and 2018 him swap places (assumption that 2018 him is “with” Cas).  It’s a super cute little story. 

Author:  pantheon_of_discord https://archiveofourown.org/works/16151642/chapters/37738631

The Breath of All Things - Wheelchair!Dean / Volunteer!Cas.  This is a lovely story, typical Dean self-hatred etc. Triggering for those with suicide warnings. It had me in tears at the end. There’s a really spectacular quote near the end that I found so romantic I screen grabbed it. 

Author:  KismetJeska https://archiveofourown.org/works/994750/chapters/1967519

Kind of a Forever Deal - SummerCamp!AU This is just a really cute and fluffy summer camp AU.  Which is so different from 91W (That’s right, check the author)! I was a little disappointed with the ending, but otherwise really enjoyed this all the way through and was loving all the discovery and young characterizations of all the characters. 

Author: komodobits https://archiveofourown.org/works/999291/chapters/1978478

Everytown, USA - Best way I can break this one down? Wanderer!Dean (listless and without a place in the world, he ends up in a small town...), Twin!Cas (that leads to some fun things). There are a number of points where you’re gonna yell at Dean for doing stupid shit (that are very much in character for him to do), you think, well, yes, obviously you’re going to do that you silly fucking boy [affectionate]; but whyyy? (but we know). 

Author: aileenrose https://archiveofourown.org/works/1797559/chapters/3854836

Chalk and Chainmail - HighSchool!AU, Cas is an artist, Dean LARP’s - it’s cute and angsty. 

Author:  lemonsorbae https://archiveofourown.org/works/804704/chapters/1517551

A Little Patience - Ok. you want smut? This is your story. You want Kink? This is your story.  I actually did not finish this. It got a little carried away in my opinion. It was VERY panty kink oriented (which, while essentially canon isn’t really my kink) so, if you want that Panty Kink on full display? Go forth and enjoy! it  is thirty something chapters, I got to the mid-twenties I Think. 

Author: riseofthefallenone https://archiveofourown.org/works/1750058/chapters/3739232

Control - I REALLY ENJOYED THIS. Which is saying a lot for someone who has already admitted that a Subby Cas isn’t really my HC - so to so thoroughly enjoy a Sub!Cas story? (maybe it’s the tattooes...*wink*). It’s an AU where Cas is the head of a company - Dean is a callboy I guess, for lack of a better term. Just read it.

Author: dothraki_shieldmaiden  https://archiveofourown.org/works/31156601/chapters/76993217

More (I copy pasted the next lot from my google doc, I’ll flush them out later - no i wont...)

Teach Me (short) - movie night in the bunker, things get a little carried away   Author:  Chiyume  https://archiveofourown.org/works/5961327

You Light the Spark (in my bonfire heart) (short) - when cas doesn't realize that dean is unaware of his feelings, super short, super cute                      Author: noangelsinthegarrison https://archiveofourown.org/works/1193910 

Communication Breakdown (short/cockles) - dean ends up in Jensen's head while he films the confession scene, no sexual content Author: jujubiest   https://archiveofourown.org/works/29669601/chapters/72951339

Look What You Made Me Do (short/cockles) -      -  Vegas Con 2020 / jensen comes out with a song     - cute short - no sexual content Author:  green_blue_heller https://archiveofourown.org/works/30251592 Full House (short/cockles) - reimagined version of the rented house story - putting it in order (so to speak). funny / cute / fluffy not explicit   Author: n_nami  https://archiveofourown.org/works/30855827

Cyber Sex (short/cockles) - anastiel https://archiveofourown.org/works/31467086      - shameless post GISH Fest zoom call porn      - Short (very short)

It's Complicated (cockles) - gail_morgan https://archiveofourown.org/works/31434938/chapters/77747519       The GISHtake (short/cockles) - MellyCrazyCoconut https://archiveofourown.org/works/31508099     - cute short post GISH zoom     - oops "babe, really?"  

(10.02.2021 updated) Since last update: New reads - Fuck i’m gonna be here all day - there’s not gonna be as much gonna be NO detail in these breakdowns...sorry! This has now just become a “what i’ve read list” as opposed to a Rec list...

Love, All Alike (Pt. 1 Love, All Alike) - Phantoms_and_Foxgloves   https://archiveofourown.org/works/4555599/chapters/10370646                             - Though The Stars Walk Backward (pt 2 Love, All alike) - Phantoms_and_Foxgloves

And this, your living kiss - opal_bullets   https://archiveofourown.org/works/18083927/chapters/42744872

Come On, Let's Strike a Match (Domination and Submission: a love story pt 1) - anyrei & queerwerewolf ***   https://archiveofourown.org/works/25722478/chapters/62458810    - Playing With Fire (D&S: a love story pt 2)    - We Kiss and the Flames Get Higher (D&S: a love story pt 3)     - Sparking That Old Flame (D&S: a love story pt 4) 

Cinderwings - bendingsignpost Cinderella!AU**   https://archiveofourown.org/works/12847041/chapters/29336421

Linden - fleeceframe Swan!AU**   https://archiveofourown.org/works/33126730/chapters/82236118

No Netflix, No Chill (short) - dorian_they   https://archiveofourown.org/works/28764966

Can't Drink You Away (short) - dorian_they   https://archiveofourown.org/works/28785792 

Jensen Totally (Does Not!) Snore (short RPF) - Dorian_they   https://archiveofourown.org/works/30315717

Dean Ships It (short) - dorian_they   https://archiveofourown.org/works/30349434

All about control - wingless   https://archiveofourown.org/works/9151930/chapters/20791243

Aesthetics in Autoerotica (pt 1 Aesthetics in Autoerotica) - relucant   https://archiveofourown.org/works/3885544                                                             - The Ties that Bind (pt 2 Aesthetics in Autoerotica) - relucant

Let's take a drive - sobsicles   https://archiveofourown.org/works/32581027/chapters/80819581 

Enchanted ink - castielslostwings TattooArtist!Dean TattooArtist!Castiel AU ***   https://archiveofourown.org/works/23043622/chapters/55109530

The bones beneath our skin - darknessbound   https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633754/chapters/59515804

The Plot (RPF) - Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me   https://archiveofourown.org/works/2795588/chapters/6274970

The Gentle Force with which you Take Me (RPF) - Phoenix_Ascended   https://archiveofourown.org/works/32110120/chapters/79549183

According to all known laws of Life (Pt. 1 Cursed Metaphors) - sobsicles   https://archiveofourown.org/works/29207901                                                          - and he's back (with a mind of his own) (pt. 2 Cursed Metaphors) - sobsicles

Six hundred sundays (and many more) - sobsicles   https://archiveofourown.org/works/31158776

Aching in the Absence of you - sobsicles   https://archiveofourown.org/works/31832977/chapters/78811378

gorging myself on you, still can’t get full (insatiable) (Short) - sobsicles   https://archiveofourown.org/works/32203291

memories bring back memories (bring back you) - sobsicles   https://archiveofourown.org/works/24022945/chapters/57796885

Dream Come True (short) - bendingsignpost   https://archiveofourown.org/works/28071159

tall grass - aeli_kindara   https://archiveofourown.org/works/13127040/chapters/30030726

asunder (Short) - rageprufrock https://archiveofourown.org/works/62115

Apheresis - bendingsignpost BloodDonor!AU **   https://archiveofourown.org/works/32674783/chapters/81056680

we always were but never knew it - frightfullyrude   https://archiveofourown.org/works/32698324/chapters/81119503

In this Louisiana Bar (Short) - fleeceframe   https://archiveofourown.org/works/31764487

The Hitchhiker's Guide to Alternate Universes - n_nami   https://archiveofourown.org/works/32687929/chapters/81092785

my heart a compass - lagaudiere https://archiveofourown.org/works/28629951

Unsound Inverses - sp8ce (not complete)   https://archiveofourown.org/works/29836881/chapters/73413300

The Jensen Mistake (RPFish) - fellshish   https://archiveofourown.org/works/31950169

tell me about the dream (Pt. 1 Kids are coming home) - playedwright   https://archiveofourown.org/works/27984813/chapters/68544450

It's handy to know (FIMMF Themed ;)) - RosaMarloes   https://archiveofourown.org/works/31761322

So Says The Sword - komodobits AngelTrueform!AU**   https://archiveofourown.org/works/12597892/chapters/28695592

Communication Breakdown (RPFish)- darkshrimpemotions (jujubiest)   https://archiveofourown.org/works/29669601/chapters/72951339

Carry You Home - Casloveshisfreckles   https://archiveofourown.org/works/26982637/chapters/65862916

In the Shadow of your Wings - Enochian Things (Salr323)   https://archiveofourown.org/works/7531294/chapters/17121655

When Harry Met Sally (RPF) (Pt. 1 When Harry Met Sally ‘verse) - mnwood   https://archiveofourown.org/works/7622347/chapters/17351845    - Eight Dildos (RPF) (Pt. 2 When Harry Met Sally ‘verse) - mnwood    - Attention, Please (RPF) (Pt. 3 When Harry Met Sally ‘verse) - mnwood             - Boat Trip (RPF) (Pt. 4 When Harry Met Sally ‘verse) - mnwood

A Winter's Tale - NorthernSparrow   https://archiveofourown.org/works/2654327/chapters/5930561

A Close Shave - NorthernSparrow https://archiveofourown.org/works/3090167

r/supernatural - renrub (short) https://archiveofourown.org/works/27626783

sam reads destiel fics - rebshome (short - funny!)   https://archiveofourown.org/works/33721624

Angel Cookies - noxsoulmate Chirstmas!AU **  https://archiveofourown.org/works/11729640/chapters/26427765

Under The Midnight Sun - NorthernSparrow Arctic!AU **   https://archiveofourown.org/works/16690645/chapters/39143677

Bron-Yr-Aur - mrbluesky (Short) https://archiveofourown.org/works/28225335

The Dean Winchester Beat Sheet - saltyfeathers   https://archiveofourown.org/works/19258594/chapters/45800209

The Meaning On My Skin - saltnhalo   https://archiveofourown.org/works/18005378/chapters/42538133

Red Right Hand (Pt. 1 Murder Ballads)  - Duckyboos   https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306110/chapters/9760008    - Are you the One that I've been waiting for? (pt. 2 Murder Ballads) - Duckyboos   

Riptides - sharkfish   https://archiveofourown.org/works/13230426/chapters/30263556

Damn Fine Ride - Cimorene105 (pt 1 - rodeo) Cowboy!AU** (I’m a horse girl, sue me...)  https://archiveofourown.org/works/14342340    - My Face Just Does This, Sometimes - Cimorene105 (pt. 2 rodeo)    - The Kinkiest Thing I've Ever Done- Cimorene105 (pt 3 rodeo)    - All Signs Point to Love - Cimorene105 (pt. 4 rodeo)    - Monster Love - Cimorene105 (pt. 5 rodeo)    - My Man, The Siren - Cimorene105 (pt. 6 rodeo)    - A Pain in My Ass - Cimorene105 (pt. 7 rodeo)

Astrolabe (terra incognita pt 1) - reluctantabandon, Winter_of_our_Discontent   https://archiveofourown.org/works/3348812/chapters/7326794    - Drollery (terra incognita pt 2) - reluctantabandon Winter_of_our_Discontent    - Rubrication (terra incognita pt 3) - reluctantabandon Winter_of_our_Discontent

Go Down With This Ship - PorcupineGirl   https://archiveofourown.org/works/8023642/chapters/18370474

Fire and Ice - Castielslostwings (Firefighter/Paramedic AU!) **   https://archiveofourown.org/works/23286295/chapters/55768486

The Structural Similarities of Hunters and Onions - Faster_Than_the_Speed_of_Sound (Short)   https://archiveofourown.org/works/33383101

Castiel Novak's Office, This is Dean - emmbrancsxx0   https://archiveofourown.org/works/22411336/chapters/53545840

Out of the Deep (out of the deep pt. 1) - riseofthefallenone - MERMAID AU! **   https://archiveofourown.org/works/548878/chapters/977676

Dean (and Cas') Top 13 Zepp Traxx - pantheon_of_discord   https://archiveofourown.org/works/10909440/chapters/24256989

I'll Be Good - LittleAngelCassie   https://archiveofourown.org/works/4118334/chapters/9282234

Kenosis - CastielsCarma (Short - part of Destiel ABC collection)   https://archiveofourown.org/works/30411720

[depressedacadamia]

A kiss would be nice

Summary: Magnus develops feelings for his roomate and has no idea what to do; when theres' some serious miscommunication, Alex and Magnus have to solve an obvious problem.

Pairing:  Fierrochase

A/N: THIS WAS MY FIRST EVER REQUEST!!!!  I swear I'm gonna organise my Masterlist on tumblr coz its a hot mess rn and then I will get a prompt list up. Anyway, I hope this lives up to the expectations of the request- enjoy and comment!

Read on A03        M;List

Magnus liked Alex.

How exactly was he meant to process this?

Yes. Alex was sometimes a girl and other times a boy but what did it make him?

He could remember the moment Alex came floundering into his life, confident about who she was and Magnus could only think about how much he didn't know about himself. It was ridiculous, in his opinion, to think that he fundamentally changed as a person just because he liked someone.

So why did he feel so scared to come to that conclusion that he did in fact like Alex?

“What are you thinking so hard about over there, pretty boy?” Alex asked dryly as he scrolled through his phone while he dangled off the top bunk of their dormitory. Startled, Magnus snapped his head towards Alex and with no game whatsoever stuttered a terrible lie.

“Uh- Uh, nothing.”

“Uhu,” Alex emphasised. “ So that totally wasn't a lie.”

“Yes, Wait, I mean no- wait,” Magnus stuttered out again, his hands beginning to fidget and his palms becoming sweaty.

Alex simply raised an eyebrow before softly sighing and returning to his phone scrolling. He knew that Magnus wasn't the kind to keep secrets in a malicious manner- if he wasn't spilling something, it was because he didn't feel comfortable and Alex knew as well as anyone else that if Magnus was uncomfortable, nothing was spilling from his lips.

Clenching his fists in finality, Magnus got up, accidentally banging the top of his head on the top bunk above him where Alex was elegantly dangling off, his hair defying the laws of gravity by maintaining its rightful position on his head. He rubbed his head, swore under his breath and continued to make a bashful exit from the dorm room.

Alex could tell that something was definitely up.

Sure, Magnus was weird- he sometimes came back home at incredibly odd hours, always seemed relatively silent when one were to ask him where he had been and he almost always wore his lengthy blonde hair in a way that covered the majority of his face; in fact, Alex had thought about tilting his chin up just so he could get a better view of his elegant features.

So what exactly was it causing his roommate to act so oddly?

Magnus was in the bathroom. In fact he was hiding out in one of the stalls, trying his best to avud Alex at all costs. What had started out as a way to skip the horribly boring parts of his classes, now became a full blown ritual in which he would run away to his favourite bathroom stall- the one by the very end, next to the hand blow dryers, were his favourite but also alarmed him because it was there where he could hear whether anybody really washed their hands and there was an alarming amount of evidence which contradicted so.

He would take a book or sometimes just plug in his earphones to listen to music as he essentially hid out in the stall. Sometimes, when he felt a bit more confident- and knew Alex would be off campus- Magnus would hide out in the library; a much more comfortable and all round better smelling place to read, study and or listen to music.

But now as he slowly emerged from the stall after hours of sitting, heading back towards his room, Magnus could only feel this inevitable feeling of impending doom. He had managed to distract himself from the Alex situation for so long and now, he was about to crumble.

It was only a matter of time.

“Magnus?” A familiar and - dare I even say- dreaded voice asked him.

Glancing through the blonde locks of hair which curtained his face, he caught a glimpse of familiar green hair which he had been avoiding.

“Huh?” He managed to mumble.

Alex frowned. “Don’t ‘huh’ me. Where have you been? I’ve been calling you all day.”

Magnus’s eyes widened- he had left his phone on silent as he didnt want to deal with others. “I-you did? Sorry.”

“That doesn't matter now. Where have you bee- actually nevermind that as well, come on, we need to get back, it’s already late and I know you have an early class tomorrow.”

Magnus hesitated.

Alex noticed. He refused to stay silent about the matter any longer.

“Okay. Spit it out. “

“What!” Magnus stammered. “ Spi- spit what? Spit wh- what out exactly?”

“The reason you’ve been avoiding me? Did I forget to do my chores or something? Or did I accidentally make some sort of mess of your stuff?”

“No- No, of course not!”

“So?”

Magnus found himself too enamoured with Alex’s features to respond. He could feel the bubble bath slowly overflowing inside his mind. What did it mean if he liked Alex? Was he now a completely different person? What did it matter if he liked Alex?

Wasn't he just like everybody else?

But Magnus’ mind told him that it was so obvious that Alex was in fact not like everybody else, otherwise why was it Alex whom he couldn’t keep his eyes off of? If Alex was so like everyone else, why was it his eyes that Magnus always wanted to stare at, why was it Alex’s hair that Magnus always wanted to ruffle or Alex’s hand that he always wanted to hold?

Why was it always Alex whom he wanted to hug when he was having a bad day?

So when he looked back at Alex, he felt the overwhelming need to throw himself and wrap his arms around Alex so tightly that Alex would have trouble breathing and then - in Magnus’s perfect world- Alex would also wrap his arms around Magnus and they would hold each other in their arms and stand their leaning on each other.

“Nothing,” Magnmus mumbled as he came back to reality.

He walked past Alex, eager to get back to their dorm and just sleep his feelings away- something he was used to doing thanks to his years of being homeless. He wasn’t about to escape when a slender hand wrapped itself around his wrist and dragged him backwards.

“No.” Alex huffed almost angrily. “You’re not running away from me,not again.”

Magnus could have sworn- looking back- that he may have let out a squeak.

“You are avoiding me Mister and I’d like to know why. It’s bad enough that you spend all your time hiding in the bathroom stalls, it’s even worse that you're doing it to avoid someone as fabulous as myself. So if we could quickly get this over with, It would be greatly appreciated and I’m sure it would relieve your nostrils as well.”

“I-”

“You…?”Alex prompted.

“Ilikeyou.”

Alex paused, scrunched up his nose before raising an eyebrow in ridicule and letting out a laugh. And while Magnus truly believed there was nothing more beautiful than Alex’s smile, right now, it was the most damning thing he had ever seen.

Of course Alex would be laughing! Who wouldn't be laughing if some weedy, shady blond kid confessed their feelings for them in the most pathetic way possible!

Magnus had no other choice but to clench his fists to resist the burning sensation gathering in his eyes as he turned on his heel and hurried back to his dorm.

He was curled up on his bed, binging criminal minds on his laptop because what else was meant to comfort you after getting rejected if it wasn’t watching people getting brutally murdered by psychopaths and sadists?

He was wrapped with this specific episode- involving a bunch of very explicit murder- when Alex snatched his headphones right off his head plopped himself in the computer chair that rested right next to the bottom bunk where Magnus had been hiding out.

He could feel himself paling as he remembered that he lived with Alex.

“We need to talk.”

What? He was so sick of Alex making every decision, afterall- it was Alex who chose to laugh at him.

“We have nothing to talk about,” Magnus managed to snap back.

“Why do you keep avoiding me? First in our own dorm, then in public and now you don't even want to look at me.”

“I’m sorry,” He retorted, his words coated with so much sarcasm, had there been anymore, he may have become Samirah at that very moment. “Was I expected to hang around after being ridiculed?”

“Ridiculed? What do you mea-”

“-What do I mean? I guess you wouldnt understand what it feels like for someone whom you really really like to outright just laugh at you after confessing. I guess you don't know how- how nerve racking and horrible it is to not feel comfortable and safe wherever you go. I guess you were privileged enough to not deal with doubting yourself with every decision you make and every thought you have!”

Alex started. “I-”

“-No. I’m not finished. Do you know how that made me feel?” Magnus was on a roll. “ Like shit. I felt shitty. I felt like shit and I was curled up like a bratty 5 year old and do you know what I’ve realised? I’ve realised that I have nob reason to feel shitty because I'm not the one who was so insecure in myself that I laughed at someone else who was struggling, esepcially when I rejected a hot piece of ass such as myself!” He finished his ramble with a shout, his chest heaving, cheeks flushed and somehow, his hair messy.

“So,” Alex drawled causally. “ Am I allowed to speak now?”

“No.”

Rolling his eyes, Alex sooke anyway. “ I’m sorry that you feel this way and I guess I can't change that I was the person who made you feel like- well, shit, but I have to say Beantown, you really shouldn't assume things so quickly.”

Magnus frowned, turning his shiny, glossy eyes towards Alex finally. “Huh?”

“Well. If you were to give me a chance to explain, I’d be able to tell you that I laughed because I thought you looked adorable. I would be able to tell you that I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings in any way and I’m very sorry if I did and…”

Alex held Magnus’ chin, pulling his head a bit down so he was able to fully look him in the eye rather than just looking away under Magnus’ chin, forcing him to look him in the eye.

“And…?” Magnus whispered hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer.

“And, I would be able to tell you that I like you.” Alex smiled dopily.

Did Magnus hear that correctly? Did Alex Fierro- the most confident, and in Magnus’s eyes, the most attractive person out there just admit to liking the scraggly kid who used to live on the streets?

“Excuse me?”

Aex sighed. “I said that I like you and your … What was it you said?” He paused for dramatic effect because lighting up his eyes. “ Oh yes and your ‘hot piece of ass’ I believe it was.”

Magnus cringed at his previous words as he started at Alex. Alex fierro liked him!

“What?” Alex smirked on noticing Magnus’s innocent stare.

“Can I try something?” Magnus tilted his head to the side innocently. Alex nodded.

Yes, please do try something, A kiss would be nice.

But to Alex’s surprise, he felt Magnus’s arms being wrapped around his body. It was an odd sensation that at first made Alex want to reel backwards.

But then this familiar ignition in his stomach tugged him back to wrap his arms back around Magnus and bury his face in Magnus’s chest, just about reaching his collarbone.

The hug was brief. Perhaps not even longer than 15 seconds at a maximum, but it was enough for Magnus to feel better.

Alex decided that perhaps next time Magnus would kiss him.

Super cool people Taglist: @wisegirl773 @ddepressedbookworm

[spencers-renaissance]

let him be soft (and let him be mine) p.1

Summary: After Derek pulls another self-sacrificing stunt at the culmination of their most recent case, Spencer runs out of their apartment as he desperately grapples with how it makes him feel.

or; Derek's self-sacrificing tendencies meet Spencer's abandonment issues. It gets messy before it gets better.

Tags: hurt/comfort, crying, abandonment issues, injured!derek, hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst with a happy ending, fluff, protective!derek

TW: abadonment issues, allusions to grief/loss, some religious imagery (a catholic church and a priest have a small role in the plot)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.4k Total Word Count: 4.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Emily's Edit 1 2 3

Colab Alert! Emily (@criminalmindsvibez) and I have worked together on a project based on this poem. Her edits and my fic go hand in hand, so go and check hers out! She will be posting part 2 and 3 of her edit tomorrow and Friday respectively, and I'll be posting part 2 of this fic on Friday, too!! It's been so fun to work together, so please go and reblog her beautiful edit <3

The Poem:

Please, let him be soft.

I know you made him       with gunmetal bones      and wolf’s teeth. I know you made him to be      a warrior      a soldier      a hero.

But even gunmetal can warp and even wolf’s teeth can dull and I do not want to see him break the way old and worn and overused things do.

I do not want to see him go up in flames      the way all heroes end up martyrs.

I know that you will tell me  that the world needs him. The world needs his heart      and his faith      and his courage      and his strength      and his bones and his teeth and his blood and his voice and his– The world needs anything he will give them.

Damn the world,      and damn you too. Damn anyone that ever asked anything of him,      damn anyone that ever took anything from him,            damn anyone that ever prayed to his name. You know that he will give them everything      until there is nothing left of him          but the imprint of dust               where his feet once trod. You know that he will bear the world like Atlas     until his shoulders collapse          and his knees buckle               and he is crushed by all he used to carry.

Dear God,  you have already made an Atlas. You have already made an Achilles and an Icarus and a Hercules.  You have already made so many heroes, and you can make another again.  You can have your pick of heroes.

So please, I beg you– he is all that I have,  and you have so many heroes and the world has so many more.  Let him be soft,  and let him be mine.

—Please, let him be happy ( j.p. )

The Fic:

Spencer offers Derek a weak smile as they sink into their seats on the jet. It’s all he can really manage, considering the emotional exhaustion the case had brought on, fatigue settling deep into his bones as he relaxes into the comfortable fabric of his chair. He keeps his eyes closed to avoid Derek’s anxious, imploring gaze for as long as possible, but he can’t help them opening on instinct as soon as the plane takes off the ground, and his stomach does its familiar vault at the increasing G forces.

“Baby?” Derek asks softly, as soon as he sees Spencer’s eyes flutter open. “What’s wrong?”

Spencer sighs, turning his head to face the evening sunset for a brief moment before looking back to his boyfriend. “I’m just tired, Der,” he lies, throwing in what he hopes is a reassuring smile to try and seal the deal.

It seems to work, some of the anxiety relaxing from his face — though, Spencer notes, the slightly pained expression remains — as he reaches across the table in between them to take Spencer’s hand. He complies, placing his hand in Derek’s and allowing himself to relish in the comfort of his warm, protective hold despite how he’s feeling.

“I’m sorry, Spence. We’ll get dinner from that Thai place and head straight to bed when we get home, yeah? You’ll feel better then.”

Spencer can’t help the flare of anger in his chest at that — so strong he has to shut his eyes tightly against it for a second. How can Derek not realise what’s wrong? How can he sit opposite him, bruised, cracked ribs and all, and not understand that everything is not at all ‘eat Thai food in bed’ okay?

He forces his eyes open again. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

Derek squeezes his hand once before letting go and thankfully, finally, dropping the subject. The sunset is a pretty blend of pinks and oranges as they fly down from New Jersey towards home, but Spencer doesn’t focus on the aesthetics of the sky. Not when that awful, tiny voice keeps whispering in the back of his head: how many sunsets does Derek have left?

⭐️

It might have been a lie, but the tired excuse seems to work. Derek doesn’t try to make conversation with him on the drive to DC, instead settling for reassuring touches that Spencer finds himself pressing back into despite himself.

He dives straight for the shower once they get back to their apartment, vaguely hearing Derek on the phone placing their standard Thai order as he sheds his restrictive suit and steps into the shower, immediately relaxing as the hot water cascades down his back. All of a sudden, the weight of the case catches up to him and he lets himself cry. Afterall, his desperate, grief-filled sobs can’t be heard over the water and he can blame his sore, red eyes on the shampoo.

When his tears eventually dry up and he exits the warm bathroom into the air-conditioned apartment, Derek’s sat on the edge of their bed fiddling with his phone next to an outfit of Spencer’s favourite loungewear neatly laid out. He always does it and it always makes Spencer smile, but this time his heart just clenches painfully and he has to fight back the hot tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

“Hey, baby,” Derek says, voice concerned at the sight of his visibly upset boyfriend. His wince as he gets off the bed to come over to Spencer is the final straw, though, and he can’t help the violent, choked sob that forces its way past his lips, his body heaving with the myriad of emotions running rampant. “Spencer?”

He ignores him as he drops his towel and hurriedly pulls on the clothes Derek set out for him, tears spilling down his cheeks one after the other, indicating no sign of slowing down anytime soon.

“Spencer? Baby?” he pleads desperately as Spencer continues to ignore him. “I know you’re tired, but this isn’t like you. Why—”

“No!” he cries, turning to face him. “It’s not like me! Because even though I feel like this after every case I’m usually so good at holding it in! But I can’t do it anymore, Derek. I can’t keep feeling like this.”

“Baby, talk to me,” Derek begs. “We can work this out, we’ll figure this out together, but I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

All of a sudden, it’s too much. Standing there in their bedroom facing his injured, self-sacrificing, perfect boyfriend as emotion and fear choke the life out of him is killing him, and all he can do is grab his phone, hastily pull on a pair of shoes, and run out of the apartment.

If it wasn’t for his bruised ribs — Christ, if it wasn’t for Derek being shot not four hours earlier — Spencer never would have outrun him, but as it stands, he escapes the apartment building with only Derek’s pleading cries following him.

He runs through the streets of DC, half-blind from unshed tears, until he sees a bus coming down the road, and before he can overthink it, he’s boarding, paying, and taking a seat right at the back. The streets outside blur as the bus accelerates down the street and the tears he’d been holding back since he left the apartment, spill over, joining the countless tear tracks already decorating his cheeks.

Soon he’s not seeing the vibrant streets of the Adams Morgan district anymore, his brain replaying the shoot-out that ended the case instead. They’d finally cornered their suspect in a dilapidated barn in the middle of nowhere, and Spencer had honestly thought that their attempts to talk him down were working, when he’d suddenly pointed his gun straight at JJ. Derek had easily predicted his next move and wasted no time in pushing her out the way, diving straight into the bullet’s trajectory, shot in the middle of his vest.

Hotch had taken care of the unsub and Spencer had gone straight to Derek’s side, his heart in his mouth as fear overrode rationality with ease. He’d been fine: checked out by an ambulance on site and prescribed some moderate painkillers and a few days rest until his ribs healed up, but Spencer had struggled to see it so positively.

Anger flares up in his chest again at the memory of Derek’s blatant disregard for his own well-being. JJ’s a trained and experienced agent: she could have shot the unsub before he even took the shot if Derek hadn’t pushed her aside, and even if she hadn’t, why was it better for Derek to take the bullet than JJ?

As much as he tries not to take it personally, part of him can’t really help but feel hurt. What if the bullet had missed the vest? What if Derek was really shot? He could have so easily died — in an alternate universe, Spencer is mourning the tragic loss of his boyfriend right now. Does he really not care that all this heroic self-sacrifice could leave Spencer a grieving widow one day?

He feels selfish. The world needs Derek: it needs his heart and his courage and his fierce sense of justice, it needs him to fight for the underdog, it needs him to stop at nothing to apprehend the bad guy, it needs anything he can give them.

But in this moment, Spencer doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t care about what the world needs. He cares about what Dr Spencer Reid, book nerd and genius prodigy of Nevada needs, and that’s his boyfriend, alive, next to him.

The bus passes a church and Spencer immediately presses the button, getting off at the next stop and retracing the road until he’s standing in front of the beautiful architecture of a Catholic Church. Peace and quiet is exactly what he needs right now, so he takes a deep breath and walks through the heavy wooden doors into the building.

The smell Spencer associates with the churches he’d visit in his childhood when William would dress them up and parade them around a church as the perfect little family for as long as Diana’s meds lasted hits him as soon as he crosses the threshold, and something about it feels comforting. He walks through the small foyer and into the main congregation hall, thankful that no service is taking place. There’s a woman in a pew at the front with her head bowed, but otherwise it’s completely empty, and it emboldens him enough to slip into the back row.

He lets himself zone out, taking in the stained glass windows and the elaborate arcades as well as the ornate statues and decorations around the nave as his mind finally drifts from the torture of his thoughts.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice asks, snapping him out of his trance. He looks over to see a priest standing just to his right, a kind look on his face.

“Uh— yes,” Spencer replies, a little flustered. “Very. An old friend of mine did a PhD in the history of church architecture years ago, but even his high praise doesn’t do it justice in person.”

“Not a regular church-goer, I take it?” the priest asks, smiling warmly.

“Not sure the church would be happy to have me,” he says drily, “on the account that I live with my boyfriend.”

The priest’s face saddens at that. “Would you mind if I sat?”

“As long as you don’t try and convert me.”

He laughs at that, taking a seat next to Spencer. “That’s not my job anyway,” he reassures him. “God takes care of that side of things.”

Spencer nods once, before looking down at his fidgeting fingers.

“What’s led a non-Christian to a Catholic Church on a random Tuesday evening, then?” the priest asks warmly.

“Oh… I’m not sure you’d want to hear about it,” Spencer says awkwardly, blushing a bit at the thought of discussing his relationship troubles with a priest.

“Try me.”

Spencer takes a deep breath. After all, he desperately wants to talk about this with someone, and who better than a completely impartial person whose opinion doesn’t matter anyway?

“I work for the FBI,” he starts, “I have done for nearly a decade now. It’s where I met my boyfriend, actually; we work for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. I love the job, it’s given me pretty much everything I have, really, but… but I don’t know how much longer I can do it.” He takes a shaky breath in to try and abate the tears again, but when the priest lays a warm hand over his own, he can’t hold them back anymore.

“Derek— Derek is so strong. He’s fierce and he’s powerful and he’s a hero, and I used to be so proud of him for that, I still am, but now… all it does is scare me. Today he took a bullet for another team member, he pushed her out of the way and it landed in his own vest. He’s fine, but this isn’t the first time he’s done something like this. He’s run into burning buildings, driven bombs across cities to stop them from blowing up in a populated area, thrown himself into the line of fire to save others countless times, but one day… he won’t be so lucky.

“One day, it’s going to catch up to him, and he’s going to be killed by his own calling. He’s so selfless that he’s truly going to give everything to the job until it kills him… and where does that leave me?” He looks up and meets the priest’s kind, empathetic gaze for the first time, comforted by the reassurance he finds there.

“I never really had a family. My father walked out when I was ten and left me with my sick and confused mother, knowing that she couldn’t take care of me, knowing that he was leaving his child to take care of his mother for the next eight years. When I found the BAU, I found a family, and I found Derek. I love my whole team, but when it comes down to it, he’s all I really have left.

“If he stays in this job, I’m going to end up alone. There will never be another person for me, not after Derek. When people sit in this very building and pray for justice,” Spencer says tearily, “God answers that prayer with Derek Morgan. And those prayers, those pleas for mercy are going to take him away from me one day.”

The priest sits quietly for a moment, thinking, maybe praying, as he bows his head. “Child, God makes heroes for a reason. I know he’s so proud of Derek, that he cherishes all the lives he’s saved, but I also know that God cherishes Derek’s life, and yours, too. Derek sounds like the kind of person who loves with his whole heart, and I suspect that he loves you deeply. The Bible teaches us the importance of kind and honest communication, as well as the value in understanding the people you love, and I think you know that your only shot at a happy ending here is to tell Derek all that you’ve told me.”

Spencer’s always rejected the idea of telling Derek how much it breaks his heart to see him running at danger head on because he can’t think of any possible resolution they could come to — it’s not like he can simply turn off his self-sacrificing tendencies — but he doesn’t really see any other way out now.

He looks up at the priest. “Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m not sure I have any other choice.”

“I’ll leave you to your peace and quiet,” he says as he gets up to leave, “but please never think that God doesn’t want to know you because of your loving relationship with Derek. He loves you both so much.”

Spencer smiles, feeling a little bit lighter after getting everything off his chest. “Thank you.”

As he watches the priest walk out of the nave and into what Spencer suspects is the Sanctuary, he hears something that simultaneously warms his heart and twists his stomach in anxiety.

Derek, calling his name.

I hope you enjoyed part one of this fic - please go and check out Emily's edit here!

PART TWO

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @doctorenby @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @jellejareau @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoopc@marsjareau @garcias-bitch (taglist form)

[oftenderweapons]

The Studio - Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 9.7k words

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Rating: 18+

I told you I’d be back really soon ;) Tonight there’s a lot on schedule! I’ve been working on this piece for two weeks, since it carries a lot for both Namjoon and Vixen, emotionally speaking. It means a lot for me too, since to me it was truly a challenge in terms of the different levels of knowledge that Joon, y/n and the narrator hold. I think I’ve grown a lot in terms of writing even from Tiktok Towel Trick, which I wrote last May, but I’m really proud of myself comparing to what I used to produce a couple years ago.

Now, let me introduce this fic. The piece takes place two or three months after the two have started sleeping together (ideally late January or February). In this piece Vixen visits Joon at the studio after a bad fight and Joon’s self-imposed isolation. The two feel like they’ve come to a dead-end as they wait for the other person to cut ties. Namjoon is suffocated by his job, his tendency to lash out at his closest ones when he’s stressed and his previous traumas; Vixen is locked in her head, shut out by Namjoon and repeatedly accused of infidelity, as a sign of Namjoon’s lack of trust. Will the two manage to work things out?

Description and trigger warnings: The piece was written referring to Namjoon’s Rkive as in his vlive log. There is ANGST. Loads. There is some crying and it is not Vixen’s. Longing and miscommunication. In terms of filth: so much dirty talking the walls exude holy water by now. Unprotected sex (STAY SAFE GUYS!!!!!!!!), DDLG/daddy kink, Masturbation paired up with Voyeurism and Exhibitionism, Fetishism (Shoes, tights and lingerie), Oral (female receiving), Cumplay (eating), Marking, Spanking, Angsty doggy fucking followed by a very soft ride on the sofa. That should be all. Fluff alarm: Namjoon doesn’t want to lose his little fox and Vixen just wants to cuddle her big teddy bear Joon. 

Wordcount: 9.7k

Here is my masterlist

Enjoy!!! 

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

Standing in the main corridor of the studios felt very strange. You looked around, uncomfortable, while the receptionist at your side stared at you, waiting. "Don't worry, he's busy all the time. We can wait, no big deal." The fact that you'd been greeted by Namjoon's driver at the entry desk had helped you get to the studios unannounced. "That boy always gets caught up on something. He shouldn't make you wait." He tutted, looking at you with a kind smile. 

"____? What are you doing here?" Taehyung smiled at you brightly, close behind him Hoseok and Yoongi approached with heavy-looking bags on them. 

"Oh, hi. I sort of stopped by for Namjoon." You bit your lip, smiling embarrassedly. 

"He's still in his room. I can show you the way." Taehyung said, grinning. 

Yoongi seemed to be observing him closely while Hoseok looked absolutely oblivious. 

"No, I only have to give him this." You showed them two small bags, one containing food and the other a few things he had left at your place. 

You tried not to let your heartbreak show. 

"Maybe you could bring them to him, I don't want to distract him." 

You smiled but you felt the tears welling up. 

Yoongi's glance moved to you. It felt scorching. "I think you should bring those to him. I think he'd like to see you." His serious tone made you realise that maybe he did know what was happening. Maybe he did know better. 

"I think he'd rather not see me right now." Your lips tightened in a thin line. 

Both the guys turned to Yoongi. "Go, I'll see you tomorrow."

They both patted him on the shoulder and waved at you, Taehyung hugging you close. "It'll be alright. I'll see you."

Taehyung smiled at you, his cute cheeks popping upwards. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you had just granted him an exclusive piece by one of his favourite photographers. Maybe he was just friendly, maybe he simply liked you because he deemed you a decent human being. 

Right at his heels, Hoseok gave you a cute wave, saying bye-bye in a cartoonish voice. 

Beside you, Yoongi shook his head, still sporting a fond smile. "Uhm, I never know whether I should introduce myself. Anyway, we've never met before, so– I'm Yoongi. " He said with a tiny smile, his cheeks jumping upwards. 

You introduced yourself with a small bow. 

"You are just like he described you. He talks about you a lot." He commented. You blushed, almost feeling like dissolving into thin air. You never thought you would meet his friends like this. 

Yoongi looked at your face. "You're exactly his type — in the best way possible." He blushed. "Let's go." He said, leading you. "I actually want to say a few things." He threw his bag on the floor, getting comfortable on the sofa in the common room. "How are you doing?" 

You stared at your feet. "Decent enough."

"I'll be honest, ____. He hasn't been doing good. Not even decent, in my opinion." Yoongi announced, as if trying to prepare you for what you were going to see. "I feel like telling you a couple things about him. He can be hot-headed, and an absolute pain in the ass. He is a perfectionist, and a terrifically clumsy one at that." Yoongi huffed out. "He holds himself to extremely high standards and punishes himself whenever he feels like he's not delivering. And he has the horrible tendency to lash out when he's stressed. He just takes it all out on those who are closest to him." Yoongi patted the spot at his side, inviting you to sit. "I'll be inappropriate, maybe, but I have to say it. You don't have to stay at his side."

The sentence was like a slap to your face. It had never come to your mind to part ways with him. 

"You don't have to put yourself through his tempers and tantrums. You need to be ready to handle those emotionally. If you aren't, I don't think you'll be able to go for the long run." Yoongi looked at you in the eye. "Sorry if I overstepped, usually people come to me to talk, I'm not used to giving unsolicited advice." He blushed and laced his fingers together, laying them on his thighs. 

"I don't want to let go of him, Yoongi." You confessed. 

"Then you should go bring this stuff to him in person. And remember, you don't have to be his therapist. If you want, you can be his partner, walk by his side, but it's not your duty to carry him." The man was incredibly smart and thoughtful. And sensitive. The more you got to know him, the more you understood Namjoon's adoration for him. 

"Thank you so much." You bowed your head briefly, placing your palm on top of his hands. 

He moved one on top of yours, patting gently. "Let's go find your grumpy bear, uh?" 

With a groaned "aigoo" He pushed himself up, standing on his feet like an old man before bending to catch the strap of his bag. "This way." 

He led you through the winding corridors until you recognised the door to Namjoon's studio. "Go on. Knock politely and be smart. Discuss. Negotiate. Compromise. And be kind to each other." He gave you the official salute and left. 

You found yourself staring at the door, wondering if he'd roar at you for interrupting him. 

The room sounded quiet. 

You counted to three. Knocked. 

"Come in." Said his voice with a weak rumble. He was probably distracted. 

His studio was warm and welcoming, if a bit clustered. The lights were low and yellowy, coming from his desk and contrasting with the white gleam of his computer screen, still you could see everything perfectly in the slight penumbra, your eyes perusing your surroundings. It was easy to see why his apartment felt like a hotel room: he barely spent time there while this place really felt like home. It felt like stepping into his soul. Small sculptures and toys and collectibles were neatly lined in his bookcase together with some books. Then the baby shoes. Art catalogues. Candles. Art. A drape too big for the wall, but still there, a painting, probably from Yoongi, since you vaguely recognised his style. On the back wall, you noticed two drapes embroidered in traditional patterns. The floor was covered in thick cream carpets with geometric prints that reminded you of tribal symbols. And sweet lord, that was his wooden, swoon-worthy, customised low table, matching with the piece by the door holding one of his bonsai. A comfy couch with a fluffy, warm blanket, and embroidered pillows. You were mesmerised. You didn't have time to take it all in, your glance running from the upright piano to the microphone standing beside his chair. He didn't turn around, he kept staring at the screen, typing every now and then. His beautiful desk was crowded with stationery, electronic devices, a keyboard and all kinds of knicknacks. 

"What is– oh. Hi." His expression was ice-cold. 

"Hi. I was passing by, I wanted to bring you some stuff you'd left at mine."

His heart froze. This is the end then.

He'd been avoiding it for almost two weeks, hiding from you in his studio, even though the only things he could write were heartbreaking blue rhymes that had Jimin and Jeongguk exchanging pitying glances. 

The beginning of this tragedy was almost comedic in its stupid futility. It was just him incapable of perfecting a pre-chorus. A dumb verse or something. He had called you, talked it out but apparently all he did was just turn down your ideas and suggestions, snapping at you until you exhaustedly told him that you were tired and needed some sleep. He took that as you umpteenth sign that you didn't care about him — which you both knew was entirely wrong — and caused a huge fight which ended on you telling him to go fuck himself, at which he unceremoniously replied that he was okay with that since you were clearly already fucking someone else. 

You didn't bother correcting him, since no matter how many times you told him, he always seemed to get back at you being unfaithful and uncaring. You were done justifying yourself, apologising for things you had never done. 

"Uhm. I also brought you some food. I didn't know if you had already eaten."

He looked at you like you had finally lit a candle in a dark and cold room. 

Your heart broke some more. You asked yourself if there was any more breaking to do, at this point. 

You figured there was the moment you heard his hoarse voice speak. "Let's eat together."

You didn't have the guts to deny him. 

You laid the bags on the small table and took off your coat. He stood on his feet immediately, crossing the room in a few broad steps and hugging you to his chest. 

Let it hurt. You told yourself. It heals faster like that. 

His palms settled at your waist and his eyes closed. He breathed you in. He had never felt something really end. His exes were like a song slowly slipping into a diminuendo until they became silence. His interest burned out, his curiosity simply died down and the feelings never seemed to grow fully. They felt like a balloon which was never supposed to be blown that big. This thing with you was like a song being stopped mid-chorus, silence biting in where it wasn't supposed to be. Is this what the end feels like? He asked himself as he held you tighter, one of his hands climbing up and burrowing into your hair. He pressed your face into his chest, where his heartbeat was so strong and so loud that you asked yourself if you could somehow amplify it, if your body could register it and replay it once you were alone in your bed, mourning over this. "You feel taller." He said, noticing how your forehead reached his lips instead of slotting under his jaw. 

"I still have my heels on." You replied. 

"Wanna take 'em off?" He asked. 

You shook your head. "No, if that's not a problem. 

He breathed out heavily. He interpreted your refusal as a sign that first, you were keeping your tough-woman shield up — which he couldn't blame you — and second, you weren't intending to stay long. 

You tried to part yourself from him. "One more second, little Vixen. Just a second." He whispered. 

You allowed him. 

"Come on, dinner is getting cold." You said softly. 

He didn't let you go, he simply loosened his grip and dragged you to the sofa. He was willing to keep you as close as he could until you ripped the bandaid off, unraveling this small spell that had turned his life into a perfect, dreamlike snowball. 

Sitting on the sofa, he made you sit beside him, your side sticking to his from shoulder to hip to knee to ankle. 

It was all too much but you didn't have the strength to part from him. He bent down and opened the small boxes. 

It was fried chicken. 

Like the first time at his place, at two am, naked in his bed after he had owned you in every way that mattered. 

He loved fried chicken. And now it would always mean you to him. 

No chimaek after fucking with anyone else. He wanted to keep it for you, in case one day you decided to come back, and he would say he had never done that with anyone else, that he had been waiting for you. Because some part of him told him that you would come back. 

Both your brains were going on the same path, already mourning someone who was right there in that moment, but already felt so far away. The room was quiet but both your minds were screaming, thinking so loud that the silence was welcome. 

"I got you fried chicken. I know you love it." 

I love you, his brain replied. But his mouth stayed silent. It was too late anyway. 

"Thank you." He said brusquely. He reprimanded himself for sounding so harsh. 

"It's okay." You said quietly, using the lid to grab a couple pieces out of the ten or so. You didn't feel like eating and he always ate two thirds of the box anyway. 

He exchanged one of your wings for a leg. "You prefer the leg." He said with a shy smile, trying to make up for the coldness he had shown previously. 

You had been sleeping with Namjoon for three months now, spending all your spare time together at his place, sometimes moving in for the weekend, the both of you leaving your job early so you could spend Friday afternoon together and go on small dates. He usually had his schedule on Saturdays and Sundays too, so it wasn't uncommon for you to spend several hours alone at his place. You had made small improvements, making his house feel more like a home with small handmade crafts. And when he came back, you would usually try to keep it chill but eventually you ended up in bed, or on the sofa, or the kitchen counter. Or the carpet on the corridor leading to his bedroom. Or the shower. Let's just say that you would be all over each other. 

You thought how different it would be now, and how difficult it would be to get him out of your system. 

"How is it going." You asked quietly after you swallowed your first bite. 

"Tough. I'm polishing some stuff, but this is the part where I doubt everything and want to rewrite all of it." He explained, his fingers gripping the chicken with a precision and finesse that reminded you of his delicate, careful side. 

"You'll get through it. You're a pro by now. And I'm sure you have excellent taste. You know what you want and you'll find your way to it." You praised him, rubbing your shoulder against him since your fingers were dirty. 

He leaned his head on your shoulder, shrinking down to reach you. "Thank you."

The more time passed, the more you realised he still hadn't said sorry for what he had implied during that phone call. 

"That's okay."

"How have you been doing?" He asked, trying not to let his worry show. It still showed, though. 

You decided on being honest. "I've been missing you."

He paused eating. "I've been missing you too." He put down the chicken, using the ball of his wrists to press against his temples. "I'm sorry about what I said that day. I know my past relationships and nerves are not valid excuses for how I treated you, but I got swallowed in those and I dragged you in."

You looked at the leg and finished munching on it, stripping the bone of the last few strings of meat. You put down the naked bone, licking your fingers. "You never talked about your most recent ex." You commented. 

He picked up his head. "To put it simply, I was her side piece." He said, plainly. "She was getting married to someone else. And she messed around with me." He looked at his feet. "At the beginning I didn't know. It lasted around eight months, as she was waiting for her fiancé to finish his military service. After I discovered it, we kept going for a couple weeks, but I found the whole thing so upsetting and disgusting that we parted ways. Her fiance forgave her and they got married a while ago, a few weeks before I met you." He snickered sarcastically. "I even sent them flowers." 

You blinked distractedly. "Joon, I'm so sorry, baby." You brushed your forehead against his arm. 

"It's cool. I mean, it's not since I'm still traumatised by it. I've been talking about it with my analyst, but it's been a while since I last went, almost three weeks, because this project had been swallowing me whole — after chewing me a little, clearly." He had his exhausted laugh on. 

You felt like you needed to talk about the whole story about that girl, but right now he didn't seem in the right mindset to do that. For now, knowing that he knew he had a bias and he was tackling the issue with a therapist was enough.

"Have you been sleeping, babe?" All the breaking up was momentarily suspended. There was something to save here. You had a lot you still wanted to save from this. 

He seemed relieved when you called him that. Don't get your hopes up. He shook his head. "A couple hours at a time. Small naps when I'm tired."

"Okay, so once you're done eating, we're gonna take a good, long nap."

He didn't want to sleep though. He wanted to hold you close, kiss you, make sure that he did everything he could to make you stay. The meal continued quietly, and as soon as you were fed he asked you about your job, how it was going, if you had any new clients or if you had met any new artists. You replied to each question fully, telling him about curious accidents and little inconveniences. 

And he listened. He had missed your voice and it felt good to listen to someone who wasn't himself or the boys' voices over speakers and headphones. 

As you were both done with dinner, he guided you to the bathroom, standing behind you as you washed your hands. He took some soap, foaming it up between his hands before he caught your left palm within his, pressing and rubbing them together to clean you up. And then he laced his fingers with yours, lathering your digits in bubbles and making sure that the sticky sauce from the chicken disappeared completely. He moved to the other hand as you laid your head against his chest at his collarbone, tipping it back so you could stare at him. You were sure you had never adored someone this much. He turned slightly to look at you, smiling softly. He bent down and pressed his lips to yours gently. No man, no person in the world had ever touched you or kissed you like he has. No one has ever talked to you like him, showed you their world like he has. He reluctantly parted from your lips. 

He led your joined hands to close the tap, moving to the hand dryer. It felt all too intimate. 

"Joon." 

"Let's get back to my studio, yeah?" He whispered in your ear. You nodded. 

He laced his hand with yours. 

Once you reached the studio, he quietly dragged you to the sofa, pulling at your arm so that you fell with your ass on his lap. He hugged you again. "I am so sorry about what I said. You have told me countless times that I'm the only one."

"You hurt me, Namjoon." You said quietly. 

It felt like a slap, his full name. 

"Let me make it right." He kissed your cheek and your eyes fell shut. "I want you."

And you wanted him too. You thought yourself crazy for wanting a man so complicated, someone who had disrespected you, who had repeatedly and blatantly demonstrated his lack of trust towards you. Still, when you needed reassurance, affection and devotion, your bodies always came into play, talking with a language so simple and obvious to each other that you simply nodded, whispering "I want you too."

With his index finger he turned your head, kissing you square on the lips and forcing you to part them, his tongue sweeping in your mouth, making your head spin with the intimacy and intensity of it all. 

Let him take you, if that would reassure him that you only thought about him, you wanted only him and no one else. 

His free hand curled around your thigh, climbing up under the tight knee-length dress you were wearing. The woolen grey number was the first thing to come off as he tugged it over your head and off his way. "You're so gorgeous," He murmured painfully, looking at you and taking in every small detail. "A work of art, little Vixen." He kissed your shoulder. 

You smiled shyly, trying to straddle his waist. He toyed with the lace covering your breasts and nipples, teasing them with his fingers until they pressed hard against the fabric. Next he fooled around with the waistband of your tights, making you stand between his legs as he dragged the nylon down your thighs and calves. He stared at your feet, where the garment bunched up, noticing your black stilettos. "Off." He whispered, tapping his foot against yours. Once you took off the shoes, he bent down to help your feet out of your tights. He bit your leg harshly, leaving a mark behind. "Heels on again, Vixen."

Smiling darkly, you slipped them back on, shivering a little, but so happy to wear your favourite black lace set and stilettos for him. 

"Walk for me?" He asked, making you put on a little show. 

And God, did you enjoy it. His jaw went slack at the Brazilian cut of your panties, exposing to his hungry eyes the perfect curve of your ass, the way it swelled fully before meeting with the back of your thigh. 

That was his favourite place to bite. And spank. 

You did a small catwalk with your back to him, reaching his chair, which you turned around from his desk to the sofa. Facing the chair, you bent forward, your thumbs catching the fabric of your panties at your sides and pushing them down as you bent forward, offering him the whole panorama. 

He groaned. "I'm gonna get an heart attack, baby." 

You smiled at him viciously over your shoulder, letting your lower piece of underwear fall to the floor. Next you dragged your full palm up the curve of your ass, smacking it playfully as your fingers made their way to the clasp of your bra. 

"You're gonna kill me, Vixen." He cried out. 

Bra undone, you let both strings fall down your shoulders, removing one side first and letting the garment dangle from the other side, making your arm fall and drop the delicate lace ordeal. 

Your smile disappeared in an innocent pout when you turned around, completely naked except for your shoes. 

"I'm gonna sit here." You announced, waiting for his approval. 

He nodded eagerly. "Make yourself comfy, Vixen."

You sat down, crossing your legs and propping your elbows on your knees. Shyness was not a word in your vocabulary in that moment. Your only intention was that of distracting him from whatever it was that was mauling his brain. 

"Are you going to make me wait, Joon." You teased demandingly. 

He stared at you, meeting your glance. "Stay there and sit still." He ordered before grabbing the hem of his sweater and pushing it upwards, taking off both sweater and undershirt in the process. His upper body appeared, a bit skinnier than two weeks ago but maybe it was just the distance and the slouching position. His sweatpants were taut around his lap and you bit your lip as your eyes traced the outline of his length. He laid his palm there, stroking himself over the cotton. "Missed you so much, baby." He groaned and huffed. His eyes closed, his hand grew tense, stronger and heavier. Licking your lips, you kept staring at him, squeezing your thighs as he touched himself for you. 

He was hot, all the time, but this… This felt like a fever dream. You were soaked. Thank god his chair was leather and it could be cleaned easily.

He moaned your name, his eyes struggling to open enough to look at you. His voice was so deep and needy, mixed with heavy huffs. "Namjoon." You whined. 

He opened his eyes fully, his hand coming to a halt. It was like a cold shower. He was reminded why you were doing this, why you had come to this, the sudden distance that had come within the two of you. "What is it, baby?" 

You pushed your ass against the chair, looking for friction. "Come here. Touch me." You begged. 

It pained him seeing you so needy and whiny and stressed. "Listen to me, baby thing. Listen very carefully." He wanted to reassure you but he couldn't come to you. "I need you to touch yourself, little one. Can you do that for me? I promise I'll touch you after you cum, baby, but I want to see you first." He asked, palming himself again. 

You licked your lips. "Can I?" You questioned innocently, placing your palm on your thigh, your fingertips grazing your crotch. 

"You can, doll. Do it for me." He growled, pushing his fingers under his waistband, grabbing his hard on at the base and stroking it as you parted your legs, exposing your wetness. You were beautiful, naked on his chair, dragging your middle finger along your dripping slit. Your other hand grabbed your breast. 

"You're a vision, Vixen. You're magnificent, pretty thing."

"I want your tongue, daddy." You mewled, your finger dipping inside, emerging covered in glossy wetness. 

He groaned, taking his cock out of his pants, moving the waistband to his thighs. “I’m gonna eat you later, pretty doll. I’ve been starving for weeks for that sweet cunt of yours.” His erection immediately sprung up, arching to his belly button, the lower tendon looking so inviting along that thick vein that always had him throwing his head back whenever you traced it with the tip of your front teeth. As your fingers met your clit, eliciting a whine from your throat, he used four fingers to press on the vein, his thumb already playing with the tip. His hands always looked incredible whenever he used them on himself, strong fingers and spidery tendons making the vision sinfully erotic. However, he was lost in you as much as you were lost in him, his lips parted, his breath panting while you opened your legs wider, using two fingers in small upward circles that teased the underside of your clit. You felt a chill run down your spine, your legs trembling and closing a little with an involuntary reflex. You giggled at that, closing your eyes and moving your grip to the armrest of the chair. Your upper body inched forward a little and your hand stopped. 

“Too much, babygirl?” He asked and you smiled brightly, nodding. 

You’re gonna miss it, the way she smiles when you’re doing it right, his brain reminded him and as a way to shut it up, he stroked himself faster, with more pressure, his spare hand brushing his abdomen and moving upwards, spreading over his pectoral, scratching the skin there before his thumb and forefinger curved around the base of his neck, pressing there. 

You observed the motion, unpausing the movement between your thighs and humming as he gave you his desperate stare, the one that meant that he couldn’t take it anymore, that he was on the verge of it and even the smallest addition to the current situation would have him screaming and cumming.

“Joonie, lemme get close. Cum in my mouth, Joon, please.” You whined. 

“No, naughty girl. Stay there and cum for daddy.” He groaned. “Come on, baby, I’m waiting for you.” He said, with a harsh and strained command. 

Arching your neck, you started moving faster, opening your legs as far as the armrests allowed, but they only allowed an inch more than what you already had. Huffing with disappointment, you closed them and propped the back of your right knee on top of the armrest and repeated the gesture with your left leg, spreading yourself wide, almost hitting a split with your legs bent at the knees. 

“God, you’re the dirtiest. You stretching it out for me? You’re so good, showing daddy how wet you are for him.” He teased, using that raspy voice that he knew always drives you insane. 

With short, quick breaths you brought yourself closer and closer to the edge. “Daddy, please, keep talking to me.”

His hand slowed down. “Need to hear my voice, babygirl?”

You nodded and he snickered. “Then I’ll talk to you, little one. You know what I’m gonna do after you cum? I’m gonna crawl to you and kneel between those wondrous legs of yours. I’m gonna push your ass to the edge of the seat and feast on you like I’m trying to die eating that pussy. And do you know what you’re gonna do, Vixen?” He provoked. 

You shook your head. “What am I going to do, daddy?” You questioned innocently, your words stumbling a few times as your breath got stuck somewhere in your throat.

“Oh, little fox, you’re gonna grab my hair and push that lovely cunt on my lips and tongue, fucking my face so hard and fast, pressing your sexy heels on my naked shoulders. I want to hear you gasp for air because I make you cum so good you forget to breathe, you forget how to speak.”

“Joon, I’m cumming.” You cried out, your legs starting to quiver and your clit getting too sensitive to stand the movement of your fingers, slipping them inside and pushing them in slow circles around your cervix. 

His fingers moved back to the tip, the other hand massaging his balls. “Take it, Vixen, that’s it baby. I’m cumming, ____.” He moaned your name, spilling his release on his lower stomach. 

You were still staring at each other with your chests heaving, eyes wild, hands stained by your pleasure. It was always the two of you. Always getting caught up in each other, always getting tangled in each other's fantasies with this constant lust pulling you in and never having enough. You wondered when the hunger would stop, when you would grow tired of his insecurity and possessiveness, when he would find out you're too kinky, too needy, too fucked up for a busy man like him to handle. 

He cleaned his hand with one of the unused paper towels from dinner, crumbling it and throwing it in the box with the garbage from dinner. 

"Joonie." You whispered, waiting. 

"Coming, baby fox." He replied, standing up and taking off his sweatpants and boxers, walking straight to you. You closed your legs, a bit cold and embarrassed now that your high was over. Standing right in front of you, he cupped your cheek, making you look up at his face, however, even though your head was tipped back, aimed at his eyes, your glance hung low, staring at the droplets smearing his abdomen. "What are you looking at, spoiled little fox?" He said, with a sardonic smile. 

"I wanna lick."

He grinned and scooped some liquid with his digit, bringing it to your lips. 

Parting your lips, you licked your lower one first, then you let your tongue dart out and swipe at his finger, carefully sucking it into your mouth before he lowered his eyes, staring into yours and smirking seducingly as he pulled his digit out. You smacked your lips and savoured his taste, your eyelids falling shut as you hummed at his flavour. 

His cock, once half soft, was now hardening again, swelling intermittently and slowly rising to his navel. But Namjoon's eyes were focused on your face. "Want more?" He asked once your eyes opened and your gaze focused on his face. With a sex-addled, lazy grin you nodded, opening your mouth. 

He grinned right back. "Such a hungry little girl."

Impatient, you grabbed his hips, pulling him towards you and licking his belly clean. He groaned, observing you closely. 

I'm going to teach her some patience and some manners, he thought darkly. However, he immediately reminded himself that he would never have the time, your liaison coming to an end.

With this unfortunate thought, he cupped your face. "I'm the one supposed to be eating now, ____. Let me take care of you, darling." He said, before falling to his knees. Immediately he pushed the back of the chair to the table, so that it wouldn't cartwheel out of his grasp. 

Once more you asked yourself how many times he had done that before, thinking about how the relationship with the bride-to-be must have been mostly sexual, since you don't usually have much romance and dates with someone who is taken. Even though he didn't know she was taken. Whatever. 

In that moment he was there, kneeling before you, placing your heels on his shoulders, cupping your ass and tipping it forward so he could easily and comfortably give you that first, glorious lick from your hole to your clit. "Taste so good." He said, nuzzling his lips side to side as he spoke, mixing the movement to the vibration of his voice. He bit the small tattoo at the top of your thigh, where it met your pelvis, just shy of your hip bone. "Sexy little thing." He kissed it. "Drove me insane since day one." As usual, he sucked at it, causing a dark purple mark to bloom over it. "Fucking perfect."

He laid his tongue flat against your slit drawing the tiniest circles with the whole length of it. 

You hand-combed his hair back, holding it so you could look into his dragon eyes. He looked vicious and dangerous and so cunning, so smart in the most atrocious way. 

"Namjoon." You moaned, your hips arching closer to his mouth. 

He snickered cockily, moving his tongue slowly back into his mouth, allowing only the tip to wander up your crevice and reach the apex of your labia. He delivered a set of ten licks, slow and curling perfectly against your nub. "Are you good, little fox?" He asked. 

You nodded and pushed his head back between your legs. 

He laughed loudly, fighting against you. "I'm not done talking, brat." He bit your lower belly gently. "I'm gonna pump your clit with my mouth, Vixen. I'll suck it twenty times, then I'll let you rest until I'm ready again. I'll keep going until you cum. Remember that after twenty I'll pause. This could easily turn into edgeplay, baby, so you'd better get very horny very fast. You okay, Vixen?"

He checked on you and you nodded, impatient to simply have him on your clit.

"Be verbal, little girl." He reprimanded.

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl. Let's get started."

He wasted no time. He wrapped his lips around your clit and started sucking, sucking so hard that you knew the following day his jaw and ears would hurt. At pump fifteen you already knew you needed more than twenty to cum. And as twenty arrived you whined but you felt confident that the next set would suffice. 

This time you felt your edge at twelve, still you needed more. You were getting wetter and wetter, so soaked that his saliva and your slick mixed up and made you feel uncomfortable between your asscheeks. 

"Joon–" You said, at which he mumbled "language" in between two pumps. 

"Daddy, I want your fingers inside." You said, indulging his every whim. 

He fumbled around with his arms, securing you with his left, making sure that your backside wouldn't get too close to the edge of the seat, and cause you to fall. His right arm moved back to your front, his index and middle finger coming to your entrance and waiting, his drool sliding from his tongue down your slit and directly on his fingers which, now lubricated, slipped in with no friction or resistance. The pressure was mind-blowing, your head spinning. "Daddy, please."

"Please what?" He said, hitting his pause. 

"Make me cum. Let me." You asked, as meekly as you could. 

"Why should I, uh?" He teased. 

"Because I am a good girl." Because I love you, said an obnoxious part of your brain. 

"Then I need you to say it one last time, Vixen. I know I've tormented you, but I need to ask it once and for all. Is there anyone else?" He said, his voice almost breaking. 

"No, Namjoon. I swear to God, there's no one else. I promise it. I swear on everything that I love the most. Please." You begged, hoping that he would feel the desperate honesty in your voice. "Please. You're my only daddy. I have you, only you. I am yours." You said, and God if it felt right, if it felt true, being his, belonging to him. 

Tell him you love him, your brain said again, but you refused. 

He smiled brightly at your declaration. "We're done playing, if you want to, Vixen."

You simply nodded, batting your lashes at him. "I want to."

"Then hold tight because I'm not going to stop until you're fucking my face and screaming my name and shaking on this seat. Understood?" He warned you. 

"Yes, daddy." You replied. 

"Then hold tight, baby fox. I'm gonna eat you alive."

"Try." You challenged him. 

And that's when he pounced. His pumps became longer, impossibly tighter, and the small pause between one and the next became shorter. Your eyes locked with his, brows knitting together, lips parting in a mewl as you threw your head back. "Namjoon. Please, daddy." 

Smirking, he mixed the pumping motion with a barely-there curl of his tongue, teasing your clit with such delicate pressure that you couldn't even wrap your head around the incredible amount of tension that it was causing in your body. Your hands tightened in his hair, your moans dissolving into small giggles. 

He wanted to tell you how good you sounded, how pretty you looked, how he wanted to see this every day for the rest of his life. He loved seeing you this happy, this carried away. He loved your morning voice and your late night cuddles. He loved breakfast in bed and midnight snacks and three a.m. quickies. He loved watching you take off your bra from under your t-shirt before going to bed, he loved seeing you shiver as you went to the bathroom early in the morning, clad in his t-shirt, plain cotton briefs and a pair of socks even in the dead of winter, since he always kept you warm under the covers by holding you close. He wanted to confess it all: the heartwarming wonder he felt staring at you had when you focused while reading and studying, when you brushed your hair, when you got dressed before leaving for the day, when you stood at the kitchen counter, cooking, with your back to him, and again when you applied lotion all over your body after showering, when he kissed your nape, standing behind you and donning the zipper of your dress. 

However, he stayed silent, showing it all with the reckless ministrations of his mouth as your chest blushed, your hands grabbed his hair almost painfully and your hips snapped, your mouth opening in a silent scream. 

You hadn't even bothered telling him you were cumming. He knew anyway. His mouth became more gentle, resolving to small licks while his fingers massaged your walls deep and slow, perfectly responding to the contractions of your muscles. "Here, pretty thing." He murmured, his hair tickling the skin of your stomach. "I've got you, baby. Shhh." He calmed you down, your breath coming in heavy pants, your heartbeat going like crazy. He rubbed his soaked fingers against his thigh, briefly cleaning himself before coming up to your face, cupping your cheeks. "Are you okay, little one?"

You nodded with your eyes closed, getting sleepy. 

He caressed your face. "Open your eyes for me, baby girl, let me see your pretty eyes." 

With a beatific smile you tried to look at him, eyelids lifting, taking a few seconds to focus on him. 

"There she is, my moonshine." He cooed, pressing a kiss to your lips. "You look really happy, baby thing."

You simply moved your head in a nod. 

"Do you want more, little fox?" He asked, still fussing over you. "Can you take it just one more time, babe?" 

Licking your lips you nodded again with a giggle. 

He smiled. "You keep nodding, baby. Are you saying yes to daddy?" 

"Yes, Joonie." You whispered slowly. 

"Good girl. Can you walk, Vixen?" 

"Yes."

"Great. I want you to kneel in front of the coffee table, darling." He commanded, rising to his feet and helping you stand up. 

This would be the last time, he decided. 

He would allow himself your heaven just one more time, then he would hold you close for a few minutes, clean you up, accompany you home and let you go. He wasn't man enough to look into your eyes. He was weak and unfair. He turned you around with your back to him, his erection brushing against the small of your back. Once you were in front of the table, he moved your hair to the side, skimming the curve of your ear with his lower lip. "Kneel, Vixen."

You did. 

He kneeled behind you, moving the books and magazines on the floor, away from the two of you, while the traces of your dinner were thrown into the bag, which he would discard later. With an empty table, he pushed his palm from the small of your back to your nape, making your front adhere to the table and making sure that your hair was out of the way. "I know you love this table." He murmured. 

"I do."

"I do, too." His heart felt like a burden. Without further hesitation, he grabbed his length and rubbed his tip against you. "You ready, ____?" 

"Please."

With a groan he slipped in, the filling sensation causing a loud whine on your behalf. "Quiet." He reprimanded. 

You got a little scared at his dark voice, knowing that at this point you'd better obey. However, it lasted little. Once he bottomed out, he growled, bending down to your neck. "You good, little one?" He said, his sweet persona back in place. 

"Yes, daddy."

He was breathing heavily through his nose as he sucked at the skin of your neck, marking you. As soon as he was sure the mark would bruise and stay for at least a couple days, he released your skin. "Do you want your spanks, baby girl?" 

Your eyes rolling with pleasure, you hummed. "I want them so much, daddy. Spank me, please."

He simply breathed. "With pleasure, little one." He knew no one would ever be this good to him. 

His chest parted from your back, a small shiver settling in instead. 

The first smack was harsh, angry. You clenched around him and he thrusted in violently, growling. 

The second one hit the tender skin of your outer thigh, where it met your ass. "Daddy." You whined. 

"Quiet." He chastised again, his voice strained. He hammered into you four or five times. 

"Daddy, it hurts." You cried out, at which he stayed silent, simply spanking you again, twice, without rubbing soothingly at your skin. You emitted a shrill huffing sound of complaint, at which he answered with violent ramming into you, using both hands to push you onto his lap. 

This was not how Joon usually did it. This was not normal. With worry distracting your mind, you turned your head, looking at him. His eyes were closed, droplets falling down his cheeks. Was it sweat or tears? 

"Namjoon?" You asked, alarmed. 

He shook his head, biting his lip. "You good?" He asked, eyes still closed. 

"Stop." You murmured. 

He obeyed, exiting your warmth and opening his eyes, still avoiding your gaze contact. "Did I—?"

"Look at me." 

He shook his head. "I can't." 

"Namjoon." You reprimanded. 

As your eyes met his, you noticed they were rimmed with tears, and he was biting his lip to hold back a sob, shaking his head in shame. 

Your initial shock was followed by an overwhelming sense of tenderness for the beautiful, delicate man in front of you. 

You quickly decided what to do. 

You turned around fully, facing him as you stood on your knees, your hands caressing his cheeks. "What is it, Joonie bear?" 

He simply frowned and hid in the crook of your neck, desperate. 

"What is it?" You asked again. 

He nuzzled even more into your chest, inhaling the damp feel of your skin. "I just want it to be a good memory." He huffed with a broken whisper. 

A memory? "Why would it be a memory, Namjoon?" You asked, confused. 

"If it's our last time, I wanna be good to you." He said, and you could feel every ounce of sadness in his voice. 

Last time? "Joonie bear, why would it be our last time?" 

His shoulders shook with sobs as he stopped holding back his tears. "I've been a bastard, it's okay if you want to go." He tried saying in his most composed voice.

You frowned in confusion. "No, Namjoon."

"You want to leave me. It's okay. I need it only one last time."

You shook your head, trying to grab his chin and make him look at you. However, he strongly opposed. 

"Joonie." You murmured, hugging his head and caressing his hair. "I'm not here to leave you." You whispered. "I want to be with you." You continued. 

He shook his head even more. "I was dumb. You have every right—" 

"No." You kissed his head, caressing his shoulders, hugging him tight. "I'm not going anywhere." 

He looked up at you, his face covered in tears. 

"Oh, baby bear." You cooed, touching his cheeks, kissing his forehead. "Don't cry, Joonie." He disappeared even more into you, hugging your entire figure, dwarfing you. "Don't cry, my love." You whispered, the word tiptoeing out of your lips. He sobbed harder. "I'm so in love with you, Joonie bear." You crooned, offering him all your soul in those simple, childish words. 

"You love me?" He asked, confused, alarmed, petrified. 

"I love you, Namjoon." You repeated. 

He completely forgot his messy face and brought his lips to yours, his mouth melting into you eagerly as your tongues spoke a language that came so natural to both of you. 

Breathless, he parted from you. "I love you. I love you so much." He pressed tens of kisses on your face with such speed and pressure that you felt like disappearing into him. 

"I love you too." You giggled, trying to clean his face. 

You both laughed, elated, his hands coming to your waist, holding you closer and closer. "I wanna make love to you." He whispered. "Let me love you."

"Missionary on the carpet or cowgirl on the sofa?" You asked. 

"Why choose when you can have both?" He wiggled an eyebrow. You smiled. He smiled back. "Let's get on the sofa." He replied gently. "You'll catch a cold with your sweaty back on the freezing floor."

"But no missionary on the sofa…" You cried out like a child. 

He smiled. "Do you want missionary so bad?" He kissed your temple, smiling. 

"I guess I'll be happy with anything you want." You pouted, still doubtful. 

"C'mere." He said, getting even closer. You slipped your stilettos off and he picked you up by the back of your thighs and with some strength you didn't know he had, he carried you to the sofa, careful not to step on your shoes. "I'm going to sit. Careful with your legs." He warned, plopping down as carefully and as gently as he could, mercifully avoiding to sit with your calves underneath him. 

"Don't worry, I won't make you ride me, baby." He kissed your brow. "You're too tired for that." He cradled you to his chest, offering you a bit of his body heat. "Can you push it inside you for me, love?" He asked seducingly, kissing your neck. 

You smiled and reached between your bodies. He was already pulsating, you knew he would come undone in a few strokes. Slowly, you lifted your hips and pushed his tip inside, making him groan. 

"You're always so tight, babylove. Fuck, you feel amazing." He sucked at your neck some more, drawing a twin bruise to the one you had on the other side of your throat. "I feel like a fucking teenager with you. I can never get enough." His hips jutted a little, pushing into you while his forearm around your waist pulled you down, his hand gripping your ass. 

"Daddy." You breathed out, your forehead pressed against his neck as he bottomed out. 

"Yes?" He replied, soothing you with long caresses down your spine. "Does it hurt, doll?" 

He had so many nicknames for you but you couldn't wait for your next. "No, daddy." He held your face away from his shoulder. "Are you sure babylove?" 

Your face stretched in a slight grimace. "Maybe."

He giggled and kissed your cheek, sliding down to your mouth. "I'm sorry, Vixen." He pressed his lips to yours once and then again. "I'm so sorry, baby. For everything." He combed your hair back. "I can't promise you I'll never hurt you, but I can promise I'll try to make it better every single time." He held you close as your brow furrowed. "I love you." He whispered, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other pressing on your lower back. 

"I love you too." You said right back. "But please, Joonie…" 

"Need me to move?" He asked.

"I want you to cum." You murmured. 

He smirked and nodded. "Want me to finger you?" He asked, already drawing short thrusts into you and helping you ride him with his forearm around you. 

"Yes, please, daddy." You whined.

His right hand left the crown of your head, coming to the top of your thighs and beginning to draw small circles at the apex of your labia, the flat of his thumb wide enough to cover your bundle of nerves entirely.

"Would you like to take your time, Vixen?" He asked kindly, knowing that sometimes it took you a bit longer than him to actually get worked up. 

"I just need you to keep going exactly like this. You're perfect, Joonie."

He grunted and started pushing into you from below. "Like this?" He said, his voice a tad strained. 

His thrusts were low and deep, curling just enough to hit your sweet spot. He realised you started holding your breath. Usually that meant you were close. 

He bent his head, looking down where your bodies joined. It was hypnotizing, his thumb drawing perfectly identical circles. He started kissing and licking any and every inch of skin that came close to his mouth, your shoulder, your chest, your neck, sucking whenever he managed to grip the skin for long enough to bruise and mark. 

When you started shoving yourself on him, bouncing in earnest, he kept his cool and stopped fooling around, staying focused on lasting long enough, doing the exact same thing, knowing that with a few thrusts delivered just right, you would become like putty in his arms and he could just get crazy and chase his high. 

With your lips parting in a high pitched moan, you pressed your hips to his two more times before your chest collapsed into his with a tired whimper. "Take what you need." You murmured before propping yourself with your forearms against the back of the sofa, lifting your hips. Your face was pressed at the crook beneath his jaw, your tongue blindly chasing the droplets of sweat sliding down the column of his throat. He emitted an animalistic groan before his palms thudded heavily against your glutes, gripping your hips so hard that both his knuckles and your flesh turned white. And then he started ramming into you from below. The sounds in the room were a mix of his grunts, the smacking of flesh and the wetness between your legs, but more quietly, under all those layers, in between a groan and the next, there were his whispered love declarations, which poured out of his mouth like prayers, until he was so close, so fucked out that he could only repeat 'I love you', over and over, interrupted only by a final howl as he spilled inside you. 

In all of this you had tried to stay quiet, shushing him and kissing his neck, not sure that you were allowed to mark him. 

You laid both exhausted, his body sliding sideways down the sofa, trying to rest on the seats, his head laying on an armrest as his ankles dangling from the other. You covered him like a blanket, your hair draping over his chest and tumbling down the edge of the sofa. 

You were both sweaty and messy with cum and drool, still you simply laid there, until you felt too cold and shivered. 

"Blanket?" You asked. 

He shook his head. "I'd better dress you and take you back at mine. I can go home tonight. There's no use working late. I need to rest anyway."

"Are you sure." You asked, touching his face. 

He kissed your wrist. "Sure."

"I have to clean your chair first. I should have some wet wipes in my handbag." You mumbled. "And I should clean myself too before I drip on your lovely sofa."

He hummed, tired, fake-crying as he said "I don't wanna get up."

"My bag is right beside the sofa, just stretch your arm backward." You directed him. 

He fumbled around a bit, moving the bag from behind his head to your side, where you could easily reach inside. After a bit of rummaging, you fished out your wipes, making a quick work of pulling him out and cleaning yourself. 

"Cold." He muttered with a pout, which you kissed away from his face. 

"Come on, baby bear, get up and get dressed. I wanna shower with you and shower you in kisses." You pampered him, trying to convince him to get ready to leave. 

He whined as you sat up, quickly dashing to recoup your underwear. Once you were wearing it, you cleaned his chair, quite happy when you noticed that it wasn't half as bad as you though. When you turned, you noticed he was staring at you, already completely dressed, your dress in his hands. You moved closer.

"Up with your arms, love." He said gently, and for a second you realised that your simple and emotional confessions weren't a mirage caused by arousal or desperation. 

You followed his instructions as he helped you wear your dress, slipping it over your head and helping you find both sleeves. Next he gripped the hem at both sides, delicately rolling the fabric down your body. Once it reached your knees, he let his hands skim back up your hips and waist, crossing his wrists behind your back before squeezing your ass. He stared at your throat. 

"Will I have to wear a turtleneck for the next ten days?" You asked, slipping the neck of your dress aside and checking the damage. 

"Sorry." He murmured. 

"It's okay. I like it. I'm just teasing you." You said with a playful smirk. 

"Brat." He mouthed with a snicker, bending down to pick up your tights. 

You tutted, stealing them from his hands. "Let me do these, they're tricky."

He simply stared, his body trembling with a new tide of arousal at the mannerism you used to put on the garment, rolling up one leg between your thumbs and forefingers, pressing your toes against the stitching and dragging the nylon up your leg. He had seen this scene in an old Italian movie, but seeing the gesture in real life helped him understand the frenzy that the main character experienced after such an act. After you repeated the movement on the other leg, his mouth practically salivating, he watched some more as you fixed the gusset and the waistband, stretching the garment around the curve of your ass. 

"Call me whenever you need to wear those." He whispered in marvel and agony. "I might take them off you just to see it all over again."

You smiled coquettishly, grabbing your coat and wearing it. 

He kneeled in front of you, holding one of your shoes. "When's your birthday?" He asked, making you lift one foot as he slipped your heel on. 

You frowned, the connection unknown to you. "Mid-november. Why?" 

He held your other shoe and you held onto his shoulder as you lifted your other foot, wearing the black stiletto. "I loved seeing those on you tonight. I might buy you another pair or eight as a birthday gift."

You shook your head and laughed. "I don't need a sugar daddy, I'm happy with my plain, regular one." He rose to his feet and you grabbed his cheeks, planting a big, fat smooch on his mouth. "I'm actually very, very in love."

"Hello, Actually Very, Very in Love. My name is Head Over Heels — he pointed at your shoes — in Love. Pleased to meet you."

You laughed and he felt his heart explode with joy, his nose brushing against yours with Eskimo kisses. "Your bag." He said, bending to pick it up. "My bags." He said, collecting his tote and the small paper bag with his belongings that you had brought him. He neared his desk, checking the various devices. "Equipment off, computer off–" He mumbled as he moved the mouse to shut down the system. Meanwhile you fixed the low table, putting the magazines back on top of it. He switched off his table lamp and moved towards the door. "Dinner." He reminded himself, picking up the trash bag by the entrance. "You ready, Vixen?" 

You hummed in confirmation. 

"Let's go." 

[florencecastlewritings]

Writing Dialogue

Below the read more is a lesson on writing effective dialogue in fiction. As with everything in art, rules are there to be broken, so please do treat the below lesson as a guideline rather than a legal document, and remember that it is based on what works for me as well as advice I have received from other writers. It might not match your style, and that’s all right. It’s also a very lengthy blog post, but I have used headings to try and break it up and there’s a little contents of sorts at the start, so feel free to skim/skip where needed. 

If you do find it useful, however, please consider helping me through a tricky time by sending a few pennies my way via ko-fi. 

Dialogue is the written speech of your characters in your story. For some people, writing effective dialogue comes naturally, for others it feels almost impossible to master. It is worth considering, as well, the differences in dialogue for different kinds of media - in screenwriting, for example, a writer will be able to rely more heavily on actors’ expression, comic timing, body language and other effects such as music. However they will also be constrained by shorter time, more need for unnatural exposition, and lack of internal thoughts. The following lesson will focus on dialogue in fiction - for short stories or novels - although some rules will be applicable to dialogue in other mediums too, so they’re worth keeping in mind. 

The Purpose of Dialogue

Dialogue should:

Progress the story

Deepen character and relationship

Have realism

Be embellished/supported with suitable dialogue tags and appropriate narration. 

Easier said than done. Let’s take them one at a time. 

Progress the story

As with most writing, the writer needs to be constantly asking herself ‘what is the point?’ Why am I having my characters say/do/notice this? It may be to deepen character and relationship (and we’ll get onto that), but for longer stories we must acknowledge that the dialogue needs to move the plot along as well, as much as we might want to indulge in a bit of pointless fluff now and then. 

Dialogue can drive the plot in a more engaging and exciting way than plain narration. Narration on its own can be effective at building tension, but usually only in small doses, and having many pages of narration without dialogue or internal thought will feel more like a summary of events or a witness statement than the author would perhaps like. Consider the below: 

Breakfast was tense that morning. They ate silently as they pondered what to do. Michael buttering his toast so aggressively that it was surprising that the knife didn’t go through it. Susan asked him to stop, but that only started the arguing again. He accused her of expecting him to get over the affair so quickly. She threw back that there was nothing left to say if he refused to get therapy, and she had warned him for years that things had to change, and that it had been one foolish night in twenty years of unhappy marriage. She, Susan insisted, had excused plenty of foolish mistakes on his part. 

Compared to: 

‘Will you stop that?’ she said sharply. Michael did not pause in the furious buttering of his toast. ‘I said I was sorry.’ 

‘What, you say the magic word and I’m meant to shrug it off?’ he replied. ‘Pretend it never happened? Pretend you didn’t-’

‘You’ve made your anger perfectly clear, and I understand, but you don’t need to be so aggressive with everything, I get it.’ 

‘Oh, here we go. Buttering toast is aggressive now.’ 

‘Well, yes, like that - I’ve tried to talk to you like a grown up, but-’

‘It really bloody winds me up when you just say insane stuff patiently and without emotion and think that makes it acceptable, d’you know that? I’m allowed to be angry, you cheated.’

I could continue. The first example can pack a lot more information in, but using dialogue to drive the plot makes for more interesting and deeper meaning. It turns it into a story, rather than an account of events that occurred. It allows the writer to layer the plot with character work and unlock the story a little at a time.

In this regard, it is good to have your characters talking. To each other, to themselves, to the reader - whatever your particular style demands. Having that personable voice is engaging. 

There are a few “rules” to keep in mind in order to ensure you remain plot-focused with your dialogue:

Avoid small talk. Enter late, leave early. Naturally there are exceptions (if you want to emphasise the awkwardness of a relationship between two characters you might want to include some failed attempts at small talk), but the usual chit-chat and extended greetings that we are used to saying in every day life can normally be skipped or avoided. You don’t need to have lots of ‘hi, how are you?’  ‘I’m fine thanks, you?’ ‘Fine, cheers. Have you seen the rain?’ Your characters are allowed to just get to the point and your reader will thank you for it. 

Have characters on their own thought trajectories. This is a great way of driving the plot, and though it can be tricky to master it can really help in making your characters believable individuals as well as creating some conflict. If characters know each other, or both know the topic, they will likely jump ahead, make assumptions, fail to answer each other directly - this can be a great way of showing that they’re on the same wavelength, but can also be a vehicle for miscommunications and misunderstandings, or deliberately misleading one another. In that vein, don’t have the characters telling each other things they already know, unless made to sound believable. 

Similarly, don’t have characters say things solely for the benefit of the reader. This is called exposition, and while exposition is necessary, it can be clumsily handled in dialogue. It’s made fun of frequently in films where they have such limited time to get background information across. You definitely don’t want dialogue like ‘So, Michael, it’s been three years since your divorce, have you thought about dating again?’ Michael knows this, his insensitive friend knows this, the reader is not stupid and knows that it’s not natural sounding. If it must be said in dialogue, weave it into a more natural conversation - ‘I haven’t been to Ibiza in three years, and I don’t plan on going back any time soon. Don’t want to run the risk of bumping into Susan and Jorge.’ 

We’ll get onto weaving it in with narration and dialogue tags later, which makes that a lot easier, but, in short, use dialogue to drive your story. 

Deepen character and relationship

This is my favourite thing to do, and why I often prefer to write shorter stories than longer ones. A writer can find great joy in bringing a character to life through dialogue, dragging them away from plot vehicles and making them people of their own.

Firstly, it’s important to remember that your character’s background and personality will affect the way that they speak. If all your characters sound the same, they probably sound like you! A well educated character will obviously have a different way of talking than a common street urchin, but everyone has quirks and patterns to their speech that you can use to say a lot. You might use long meandering sentences with lots of rhetorical questions for a character known to be boring, for example. You might use short, sharp sentences for a character that’s grumpy or distracted with some deeper internal struggle. You can use the way two characters talk to each other to say a lot about their relationship and power dynamic, especially if you remember that good dialogue should have subtext (what isn’t being said being important).

A good example of this is from the short story Hills Like White Elephants, by Ernest Hemmingway (CW; indirect discussion of abortion). Consider the short passage below. 

‘It’s really an awfully simple operation, Jig,’ the man said. ‘It’s not really an operation at all. 

The girl looked at the ground the table legs rested on. 

‘I know you wouldn’t mind it, Jig. It’s not really anything. It’s just to let the air in.’ 

The girl did not say anything. 

‘I’ll go with you and I’ll stay with you all the time. They just let the air in and then it’s all perfectly natural.’ 

‘Then what will we do afterward?’ 

‘We’ll be fine afterward. Just like we were before.’ 

‘What makes you think so?’ 

‘That’s the only thing that bothers us. It’s the only thing that’s made us unhappy.’ 

The girl looked at the bead curtain, put her hand out and took hold of two of the strings of beads. ‘And you think then we’ll be all right and be happy.’

It’s a really interesting story that is almost entirely dialogue, so it’s well worth reading to get a good sense of using subtext. I wasn’t aware of the abortion connotations when I first read it because I hadn’t heard of the very dated term ‘letting the air in’, but really the story is great at demonstrating the uneven power dynamic between the two even without knowledge of what the operation is. Without much description (though ‘man’ and ‘girl’ says it all really, doesn’t it?), you get a sense that a much older man is persuading this reluctant girl into this act by leveraging how hopelessly in love she is with him, though he does not seem to feel the same way. He speaks most when he is trying to persuade her - the rest of the time he is snappish and short with her childish and ignorant questions about the world around them. The above passage is the only time in the story where he refers to her by a name, and we can gather that it’s a pet one. The girl’s silence says as much as her dialogue, and when she does speak it is questioning - looking to him for authority. 

Understanding character motivations and background is what makes this masterful use of dialogue. It would be tempting, for a novice writer, to have the girl argue. For her to say something like ‘what if we could be happy without it?’ But where that should be, there is silence, or repeating his thoughts back to him - because Hemmingway is not only driving the story but emphasising the imbalance of their relationship and her own naive nature. She would not argue with him, she can only wish that he will change his mind. This is all through dialogue and a tiny bit of narration, barely any dialogue tags, and really says so much without saying it at all. Show vs tell is about more than description after all. 

That kind of depth when it comes to writing dialogue is... really hard. I haven’t picked Hemmingway to suggest that this is the quality all writing should be at, and I certainly don’t mean to intimidate anyone. But it really is a golden example of thinking about your dialogue within the context of the character, and how their background, situation, and goals will affect how they respond and react to those around them. Your character may not always be able to say what is convenient for you, the author, to tell the reader, because it may not be in their nature or sound authentic. But there are clever ways around that and it can make for more powerful writing, between the lines of what is said. 

Have realism

If you skipped down to this bit, I understand. It’s the area that people most often struggle with. I find that people tend to fall into two traps here - either their characters sound like robots because they are over formal and have too much emphasis on being grammatically correct or over eloquent at the expense of natural dialogue, OR they swing in the other direction and try to replicate perfectly how people speak in day to day life. 

If you do have a problem with stilted dialogue, it is a good idea to listen to how people naturally speak and try typing it out to get yourself out of the habit. But on the whole, the way people normally speak actually doesn’t sound that great in written format. In real life, we use lots of filler words, we get muddled, we go off on tangents, we trail off, we stutter and stammer and phrase things badly, we um and ah and say far more with our body language and expression than we realise. If you ever read transcripts, from interviews or courts, you’ll see how much of it actually doesn’t make a lot of sense. Our brains make sense of it when we listen to others, based on other parts of communication. Yes, sometimes adding in a ‘er...’ is beneficial and good, and you might have a really nice character moment of someone anxious trailing off when they realise no one is listening to them. Sprinkling those moments in can absolutely make your dialogue sound more authentic, especially when carefully used with character knowledge, but be careful not to over use it. In written dialogue, our characters can and should be more articulate and quicker to formulate their thoughts than in real life for the sake of the story. Striking that balance between overly structured and too real and easy can be really hard, but it only comes with practice - reading dialogue out loud can be a big help, as can writing the dialogue first with no narration or speech tags (more on that later). 

Some common mistakes when it comes to dialogue: 

Having one character speak too long without a break. Monologues are tough to get through as a reader and don’t come up often in real life in any meaningful way. They can end up cheesy or exposition heavy. Occasionally you can get away with it with very particular characters, but in general, avoid. 

Over use of names. It’s really distracting as a reader if dialogue is constantly like, ‘what do you think, Harry?’ ‘Charlie, I just don’t know.’ ‘Really, Harry, you need to decide if you’re going to marry her or not.’ ‘I know, you’re right, Charlie.’ Use names to get someone’s attention and then don’t use them again unless you need to make it clear to the reader who the character is talking to. 

Not using contractions. Even very formal people use contractions such as don’t and won’t, it is part of natural rapid speech. Save the ‘do not’ and ‘will not’s for when the emphasis is really needed. 

Having characters speak in unison. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes this can be used to hilarious effect and can always be used for a bit of comedy. But on the whole people don’t do this, including twins. 

Misuse of slang or dialects. If you’re going to use it, make sure you do your research. It’s also worth bearing in mind that if you over use it, it will be hard for the reader to understand and may break immersion. 

Over explain for the reader. I mentioned this before but it’s worth repeating. If you went outside right now and saw a UFO, you would probably shout something along the lines of ‘wtf is that?’, and you would perhaps point or scramble for your potato to take a shaky video. You would probably not shout, ‘look at flying saucer! I’ve never seen anything like it!’ Think carefully about realistic reactions, even if they are not particularly convenient to you as a writer. 

Over use of exclamation marks/caps lock. People aren’t that vibrant and it’s tiring to read. The less you use it, the more punch it packs. 

Using narration and dialogue tags

First, a quick grammar lesson. Sorry. 

‘This is some speech.’ 

‘This is also some speech,’ said the character. 

‘Is this also speech?’ asked another. 

‘Well,’ said the first, ‘yes.’ 

‘Brilliant,’ said the other. ‘Thanks for letting me know.’ 

I use single quotation marks because I’m British and annoying, the conventional double quote marks the Americans use (”like this!”) is also correct. The only important thing is that you pick one and stick to it. Quotation marks always surround the words that are being spoken aloud, and must be opened and closed. Where the sentence ends, you must use a full stop (period), or another piece of punctuation like a question or exclamation mark before closing the speech with the marks. 

Where there is a dialogue tag (he said/said/replied, etc), the sentence is continuing, so a comma is more appropriate (but you can also use a question/exclamation mark and the sentence still continues), and again this must go before the speech marks close the dialogue. If you want to continue the sentence with the dialogue tag in the middle, you can continue by using another comma, or you can end the sentence with a full stop and continue the dialogue as a new sentence. 

Use a new line for a new character speaking.

Phew, that’s over so you can pay attention again. But unfortunately I still have more to say. 

Here is a fun little exercise. Take the below dialogue between two characters, A and B. 

‘Do you love me?’ 

‘You’re drunk.’ 

‘Why won’t you answer the question?’ 

‘Sit down. I’ll make you a tea.’ 

‘I don’t want tea, I want an answer! Tell me!’  

The dialogue alone already tells us a bit of a story - a picture is probably already forming in your head, perhaps of the characters, perhaps of the setting. As it stands it’s ok, and if you struggle with dialogue it can be effective to write only the dialogue out in this way (this tip from my writing teacher also helped me cut down on purple prose!). But now look at the scene: 

It was not the first time, nor would it be the last, that Alex was woken at 3am by repeated bangs on the floor and shouts through the letterbox. Nothing else would have made her rise from bed. If she had suspected even for a moment that it was anyone else, she would have called the police. 

But as usual, it was Sam. Blonde, tousled hair a mess, eye make up smudged, pouting lips trembling as she swayed. 

‘Do you love me?’ 

‘You’re drunk,’ said Alex, wincing as Sam’s grey eyes shone with tears. ‘You’d better come in.’ 

‘Why won’t you answer the question?’ 

Alex ignored her, pulled her in by her slender arm. ‘Sit down. I’ll make you a tea.’ 

‘I don’t want tea. I want an answer. Tell me!’ Sam’s voice was loud and high, and it pierced her. 

So, we haven’t actually added that much narration or dialogue tags (t’s best, if you can, to avoid using them too much), but we’re able to give a clearer picture of these two characters. You may even now be reading the dialogue in a different tone to the one you originally did - picturing the scene with a different feel. Not convinced? How about now? 

Yet again, as had happened dozens of bloody times before, Alex was woken at 3am by incoherent, slurred shouting through the letterbox. 

‘Do you love me?’ was Sam’s immediate demand as Alex wearily opened the door. 

Alex rubbed her hand over her bleary eyes and sighed. ‘You’re drunk. You’d better come in.’ 

Sam turned on the tears at once, mascara running in thick, spidery lines down her blotchy cheeks. ‘Why won’t you answer the question?’

‘Sit down,’ Alex muttered. ‘I’ll make you a tea.’ She stood aside and jerked her head towards the living room.

‘I don’t want tea, I want an answer! Tell me!’ 

Wincing once more at her piercing shriek, Alex closed her eyes. 

The very same dialogue can be shaped by carefully worded narration and dialogue tags. It’s a fun exercise to do with writing buddies - all use the same dialogue and see how different the stories come out. It can also be a pretty nifty way to challenge writers block or shake up a scene you’re struggling with. 

Some extra tips from my writing teacher - I fully confess that I am not always the best at following these ones, because my writing has been heavily influenced by JK Rowling who also doesn’t seem to set much store by them. But they are good, and since I’ve kept them in mind my writing has improved. 

Avoid overuse of adverbs (’she said nervously’). Use action or dialogue alone to convey this information instead. 

Avoid overuse of verbs besides ‘said’. The reader will skim over said and barely notice it, if every character is whispering and muttering and shouting all the time it stilts the flow of the scene - use sparingly.

Use tags when necessary to ensure clarity as to who is speaking, otherwise let the dialogue stand for itself. 

Use internal thoughts in place of speech tags sometimes. 

Use action beats (’he turned to stare coldly out of the window’) in place of speech tags sometimes to help set the pace of the scene. 

I hope this very lengthy post has helped! Please do get in touch if you have any further questions or would like any elaborations on anything I’ve mentioned here, or if you have suggestions for future lessons!

Lastly, I hate to do this but times must - if you have even just a couple of quid to send my way it would be a massive help to me. If you did find this useful, please consider donating to my kofi. 

[imagine-docx]

miscommunication.

Summary: You’re ignoring your best friend because he keeps blowing you off to hang out with some random girl. He thinks you’re ignoring him because you’re pregnant. [bestfriendsturnedlovers!au]

Warnings: swearing, and talks of pregnancy.

A/N: the amount of love and support everyone has given me is astronomical. i hope everyone is maintaining social distancing and are getting any packages they ordered online. - amanda 💛

★。＼｜／。★

Cupid is a little bitch. There it was said. Out in the open for anyone to read. He was a little bitch who couldn’t aim properly. Like how does one fuck up so badly by shooting his love arrow at you and you being deeply in love with your long time best friend? You can’t, but of course the baby fucked up and made it happen.

And it doesn’t help that said best friend is constantly spending time with you whether it was bringing you coffee between clients or spending Saturday nights with you. For instance, here he was now, in your living room being the designated human swatch board for all the new eyeshadow palettes that came in the mail because he has the most arm space.

“So how was last night?” Steve asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

He was referencing the fact that you were supposed to go out with Wanda and Nat the night before, but you ended up cancelling because you were way too exhausted having long work hours during the week and just knocking out after a warm bath.

“So much fun,” you said, jokingly

“Any hot hookups?” Steve asked, trying not to get jealous at the thought of you spending the night with another man.

“Of course,” you said, still joking.

Steve was going to examine your eyes that were focused on swatching a metallic blue eyeshadow to his arm. But that’s when he saw it. The bright purple mark on the side of your neck.

Jealousy suddenly filled Steve, he wanted to be the only one to mark you like that, hell even see you in that way. Go to bed with you at night, go do stupid couple things across New York with you.

Little did he know the mark wasn’t a hickey, but in fact it was a burn mark that you acquired from curling your hair three days prior that was still in the process of healing.

Little did both of you now know, that would mark the start of the game of cat and mouse between the two of you.

★。＼｜／。★

Since the night in your apartment, Steve has been dry and constantly blowing off plans to the point where you don’t even want to try and plan anything with him anymore. Hell even his texts were dry, and your phone conversations went from hours on end, all the way to a solid three minutes. It’s been three weeks of one sided attempts of plans, but there’s always something coming up. Maybe once or twice you would let shit slide and understand maybe something happened, but three consecutive times? It’s suspicious as hell.

You were thinking back to figure out if you’ve done anything to upset him, but to your knowledge, you did nothing. You even talked to Hope about everything, and even she said you didn’t do anything wrong.

You had the longest day at work doing back to back to back meetings about possible makeup looks for upcoming photoshoots. You were ready to go home and call it a night. While walking down Front Street, you decided to see if Steve was available one last time. Pulling out your phone, you scrolled until you hit call on his contact name. “Hello?”

“Hey, what are you up to tonight?” You asked, walking by Front Street Pizza you peered in and saw Steve sitting there with a blonde.

“Hey I’m actually busy with the boys right now, and we’re going out, can I call you back?” He asked.

“Yeah, bye.” You said, not even waiting for a response. Upon hanging up the phone, you scoffed, before letting out a, “Boys night my ass.” You turned the other way and decided to take another street home.

★。＼｜／。★

Of course, seeing Steve with the random blonde sparked an internal debate with yourself. On one hand they could be acquaintances who are just getting a bite to eat. But the other half of you came to the conclusion that he kept blowing you off in order to hang out with the blonde because he doesn’t need his best friend cockblocking him.

Steve being a man of his word tried calling you back the same night, but you brushed it off and pretended that you left your phone in your apartment while you were in the basement doing laundry.

You would have been completely fine with him saying he was on a date with someone else. Even though you liked him, you would never get in the way of another relationship. But having him lie about it to you hurt even more than the idea of him having a girlfriend.

★。＼｜／。★

You never would have anticipated the wheels turning and you were avoiding Steve and he was suddenly chasing you. The moment you started being dry, there were texts, calls, and attempts at plans.

Scoffing at it, he suddenly went from pretending you didn’t exist to now being your guardian.

If anyone messaged you or called you, you would answer as per usual. But if it was him attempting to contact you, you would forget you own a phone and act like you need a pigeon with a note attached to it to get in contact with you.

Seconds ago you got a phone call from Steve, you ignored it as per usual. But then seconds later, it ringed again. You were a mere millisecond away from throwing your phone off the balcony, until you saw it was Hope.

“What’s up?” You answered.

You heard sniffling on the other line, “Can you come over?”

★。＼｜／。★

And that’s how you found yourself at Hope and Scott’s apartment at 1 am on a Monday night. With Scott not being home, and Cassie being at her mom's house for the week, it was just the two of you. Having Hope pace in front of you, you looked down in shock at the positive pregnancy test she handed you the moment you walked through the door. “What do I do?”

“Look at me Hope,” she turned to look at you, “Do you want to have this kid?”

“Yes, but what if Scott doesn’t want to have one? Cassie is already enough for him,” she started tearing up again.

“Scott would be ecstatic to have another kid. Have you talked about having kids with him?” You asked.

“Yes, but we never specified a ti-”

“Okay, you talked about it, and what did he say?” You said, ushering her to sit next to you.

She let out a shaky breath, “He wanted to have kids with me.”

“So then there’s nothing to worry about. If anything, you know we’re here for you,” you said, referring to the friend group that consisted of Nat, Wanda, you, Pepper and Okoye.

She threw her arms around you, “Thank you.”

“No problem love,” you said, hugging her back, “Now we need a way to tell Scott he’s having another kid.”

★。＼｜／。★

Two weeks after your Hope pregnancy adventure, you were still playing the avoidance of Steve game.

You answered his texts, but they were super dry. Things like, ‘sorry have a lot of work going on’ or ‘hey i’m out with someone right now’ or your personal favourite ‘hey, i’m super tired/not feeling well sorry’. Which you all sent in the comfort of your own apartment, because you knew if you didn’t respond he would be ripping your apartment door off its hinges with his bare hands to ensure you were okay.

Today you finished work early, despite being out of the house since four am. Since the day was still young, and partially because you drank too many redbulls so you can’t sleep, you remembered you had to return a pair of jeans that couldn’t fit properly.

Since you were already at the mall, you decided to check if NYX had any new makeup palettes you could possibly use for upcoming clients and projects, and pick up some unisex baby clothes to start helping out Hope for the arrival of her kid.

Little did you know you had a familiar blond following you around the mall.

★。＼｜／。★

Steve thought it was his eyes playing tricks on him when he saw you in the middle of American Eagle. He had to rub his eyes a few times to make sure it was you. He was going to pass by your apartment tonight to make sure you were okay, but seeing you made him feel better.

He saw you returning a pair of jeans, and he thought nothing of it because he knew that online shopping was a hit or miss, and based off the return, was a miss for you.

He didn’t know how, but he found himself following you around the mall to make sure you were okay.

He waited outside the NYX and watched you examine the palettes and think about whether or not you had the colours at home. He followed you into the Macy’s, and watched you in the baby section while he pretended to shop in the men’s section that was right across from it.

He decided to try calling you and see if you were willing to meet up with him. But he watched you silence your phone and toss it in your handbag.

Steve felt like he deserved it for ignoring you for the last few weeks, but you were usually so soft and were willing to put it behind you.

It wasn’t until he got caught in traffic that his own thoughts caught up with him.

One part of him tried to justify that the jeans just did not fit the way you wanted and needed to return them. And you were buying baby clothes for a friend or family member who happened to be pregnant.

The other part of him came to the conclusion that you returned jeans, you were shopping for baby clothes, you were pregnant. You returned jeans because they wouldn’t fit once your stomach got bigger. And baby clothes to fit the kid you were expecting. He thought about possible people who could have been the father, and the only thing clicking with him is the man from the one night stand was the father of your kid. And he didn’t want anyone knowing you were expecting, especially under such circumstances so which was probably why you were ignoring him.

Even though the two of you were not on talking terms, he would expect you talking to him about expecting a kid. Even if it wasn’t him as the dad.

★。＼｜／。★

You continued to be dry towards Steve and essentially fake your own death. Which resulted in him being more concerned about you and your baby’s health and well being, which also resulted in him seeing you purchase bottles, pacifiers, toys, and other necessities.

You were planning gender reveal makeup looks with Hope and Cassie while Scott was out for work.

“We could do the lids a pink, and smoke out the bottom with a blue, or vice versa?” You threw out a suggestion.

“One eye pink, the other blue!” Cassie exclaimed.

“Or that,” you laughed.

You, Hope and Cassie continued to throw random ideas into the air and you wrote down the one that seems the most ideal. You heard the door jingle open, and Scott appeared in his uniform.

Scott ended up joining the debate before whisking Cassie off to shower her and put her to bed.

Tossing your notebook into your bag, you knew this was gonna take several eyeshadow adventures before you nailed the one Hope would like and want.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask, is there any man in your life nowadays?” Scott asked, as you were slipping on your shoes.

“The only man I want is gone,” you said, steading yourself after putting on your shoes.

“Call me when you get home?” Hope asked.

“Of course,” the two of you hugged before you bidded your goodbyes and went home for the night.

★。＼｜／。★

You were able to only go into the office for the afternoon as the majority of your client meetings had happened over Skype due to scheduling conflicts. As you were exiting work, you were ready to collapse into a warm bath and order some takeout.

Once you got out of the shower you heard a knock on the door. You were confused as to who it could be because you didn’t place your takeout order yet. Upon opening the door, a large muscular figure pushed past you, “Yes, come on in,” you muttered.

“I understand that you probably don’t want to see me, but I want to let you know that I would do anything for your baby, especially since the dad isn’t in the equation,” Steve rambled.

You went through a series of confusion, which was evident on your face, “Pardon?”

“I know you’re buying baby clothes and other things, and you probably don’t want anyone else knowing you're pregnant given the circumstances,” Steve said, pushing a bag filled with baby clothes and diapers towards you.

“I am not pregnant?” You said, still shocked and confused.

“I won’t tell anyone that you’re pregnant, I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he said, reaching out to grab your hand.

“I am not pregnant. Please for the love of god, if you do not believe me, go buy a pregnancy test.” You suggested.

You didn’t anticipate him actually listening to you and leaving to buy a pregnancy test. While he stepped out, you went to the kettle and filled it with hot water. You were lost in thought as to how he thought you were pregnant and got here. The sound of the kettle whistling pulled you from your thoughts, pouring a cup of tea into a cup for you and Steve.

Steve came back with the test, and you silently took it from his hands before disappearing down the hall and into your own washroom.

Coming back after three minutes, you threw the negative pregnancy test at him. “Happy?”

“So you aren’t…” He trailed off.

“I never was,” you bluntly stated.

“What about that one night stand?” He asked.

You nearly choked on your tea, “What one night stand?”

“That one night when we were swatching makeup here,” he said, crossing his arms.

You stared at him with confusion until you connected the dots, “I was joking about that!”

“What?” Steve now laced with confusion.

“I didn’t go out that night. I bailed because I was exhausted. I came home and knocked out,” you explained.

“Oh. Wait, what about the hickey?”

“What hickey?” You asked, even more confused now.

“You had this big purple spot on your neck when I was over,” he fired back.

It clicked with you what he was talking about, “You mean the curling iron burn?”

“Curling iron burn?”

“Yeah, I was curling my hair and I accidentally burned my neck,” you responded.

“Oh.”

“Wait. You thought I was having a kid?” You asked.

“Well you kept ignoring me and I thought you were embarrassed about the entire thing. Then I saw you returning jeans at the mall, and you were shopping for baby clothes so I thought…” He trailed off.

“You kept bailing on me, and I saw you with that random blonde chick that one time so I thought you had a girlfriend and didn’t want to hang out with me anymore.” You stated.

“You had a one night stand, which solidified that you didn’t have feelings for me so then I started-” It wasn’t until the words left his mouth he realized what he said.

“You like me?” You said, shocked.

“Yeah but you don’t like me back.” He stated, which resulted in you punching him in the shoulder.

“You are an absolute fucking idiot. I like you too, stupid.” You said, cracking a grin at him.

“Wh-” He didn’t even finish his sentence because he was confused.

“Why do you think I ignored you? I thought you dropped me for some other girl,” you said.

Having the words click with Steve, he pulled you into his arms, “God, we are horrible at communication.”

You wrapped your arms around him, “How about we get takeout and establish our relationship?”

“Of course,” he said, leaning in to kiss you.

You closed the gap and connected your lips to his, moving in complete harmony. The both of you pulled away when you both needed air. But the moment he pulled away, he planted kisses all over your face. Which resulted in giggles erupting from you.

“I hope you have a gift receipt for that,” you said, notioning to the bag filled with baby clothes and other necessities.

He buried his face into your hair and let out a groan, “Don’t remind me.”

[kai-zers]

Drarry, Auror au and a multitude of miscommunication issues.

 so this is @treacletvrts ‘s fault, as is many of the myriad of au’s we had in multiple fandoms and istg she’s to blame because tbh with y’all this has no cohesive thought at all so yup, I have no words other than these. 

PS: I have no idea how tumblr works because I am a noob that has no idea how this godforsaken site works despite the years I spent lurking here so expect crappy posts like these. 

This was also a race against my overheating laptop jesus christ tHIS WAS A STRUGGLE

Yup, let’s set the scene, but the rest is in read under because this would probably get long.

Harry and Draco are trainee aurors, or aurors already timelines be damned

 pining, a lot of it.

YOU KNOW IT

everyone and their ancestor portraits knew, okay.

Draco and subtlety didn’t exactly come in one package

but oh my god, circe’s tits, and whomever else they use in place of jesus christ, Harry doesn’t know.

Obviously, Harry wasn’t a Ravenclaw for nothing.

Draco thought Harry knew, but plot twist, your favourite boy who lived doesn’t. 

Shocker.

Draco assumes that Harry knew and actually thought that since Harry hasn’t distanced himself or changed the way he treated Draco at this point, Draco legitimately thought he had a chance at Saint Potty himself.

This is a usual topic between his, Blaise’s, Pansy’s and Theo’s get togethers.

‘you’d think five years post hogwarts we’d never hear Draco say Potter again, but I guess not.’ probably Theo tbh

Pansy is close to pulling at her own hair in frustration 

‘I shouldn’t have left Milan for this weekend.’ Blaise, shaking his head

Potter and Malfoy in the same mission? and they’re both alive? and the perp is caught in record time? Impeccable paperwork?

Call the Prophet

jk

anyways, their first mission and a handful succeeding that were a success. 

They are both star Aurors, and work as an amazing team

One mission they were both assigned to had a bit of a scuffle, they had to hide in a tiny closet, their faces really close

Oh Merlin, is this Draco’s chance?

Nope, since Harry had tried to distance himself as far away from Draco as far as he physically could in that situation

Draco knows how to read a room, and that definitely was an indication of ‘sTAY AWAY FROM ME’ from Harry

Harry, on the other hand, is having issues with himself

He’s scared of coming into terms that he ‘might actually possibly have a bit of attraction towards guys’ and he is panicking

Well, if I had spent my years in puberty being chased by a madman, tbvfh with you, that’d be the last thing on my mind too

so fast forward to them celebrating a major case being solved

DRANKS.

Harry has a preference for muggle alcohol because have you had a shit of Cuervo, that stuff makes MY alter ego come out.

Draco doesn’t drink often, he prefers to savour his wine, thank you very much.

he’s just a lightweight hahaha

so Harry is pissed.

like majorly pissed to the point where he’s seated on someone’s lap already, yelling at the top of his lungs about something to someone

A lot of jeering and what not happens, Harry’s insecurities get the better of him and he tries to hook up with a girl that night

much to Draco’s chagrin. 

He is watching this happen sober, poor thing.

but Harry isn’t getting any action tonight, turning the girl down instead, murmuring something about it not feeling right

Draco takes the initiative to tell Harry that he’s had too much, and he’ll side along him to Grimmauld if he wanted to

Harry agrees, and it takes a lot of rearranging for Draco to make sure that Harry doesn’t get splinched in the whole shebang back home

They get to Grimmauld place, and its actually clean

Draco shaking Harry awake so he could take him to his room to rest

they make their way up the stairs, and Harry is giggling because he keeps slipping and would’ve probably died an untimely death due to refusing to take his socks off a flight of laquered hard wood stairs

and once they reach the door of Harry’s room, Harry tries to make a move on Draco

He’s cupping Draco’s pale cheek in one hand, staring at his lips despite the haze of the alcohol

but Draco pulls away.

((YES DRACO KNOW YOUR WORTH))

Draco is hurt, because Harry would only dare touch him while he’s pissed off his arse like this

“Oh Merlin, Harry, don’t do this to me.” he hisses, as he drags Harry into the room.

“Wha?” and then Harry is dropped onto his bed with Draco removing his robes so he could sleep better

“Stay with me.” Harry slurred out, but Draco could only shake his head.

“For fuck’s sake, what was I thinking when I thought you were actually different? You’re just as cruel as everyone else is.” 

fuck me that legitimately hurt me when I typed that one out

harry turns over, staring at Draco as best he could without his glasses

Draco’s just murmuring to himself, wiping at his face hurriedly because oh no, here come the waterworks.

“I’m giving up on you, and that is final.” 

Draco says it more to himself than to Harry, but Harry hears it, and he’s not sure if its real or nah

He takes the liberty of flooing back to his estate, just to see Blaise and Pansy already lounging in his couch.

bold of you to assume the Malfoys didn’t invest in real estate, jk tho.

its been years since anyone has been back at the Manor, with Narcissa being in France and Draco in this smaller estate

Pansy takes one good look at Draco’s face and pats the space between her and Blaise and takes a pillow on her lap

Theo takes in the entire scene and just goes back into the kitchen, wine seems to be a better choice than tea at the moment

Draco plops down on the couch, burying his face into the throw pillow on Pansy’s lap

“There, there, pet.” She offers, though her perpetually ruby lips are already in a frown.

Blaise just takes Draco’s legs to lay them over his thighs, hands lingering on Draco’s knee

“Is this a bad time to say I told you so?”

Theo just sits wordlessly on the floor, leaning his head on Draco’s belly

I WANT THEM TO CUDDLE OKAY FIGHT ME 

“Draco, Darling, what’s wrong? What’d Potty do?”

“I thought he was different, Pans. I thought I had a chance. I thought he may love me someday.”

shet, ma. I’m sorry.

Harry still doesn’t know if Draco was real or not, but the following weekend, he finds out that Ron has been assigned as his partner.

Draco requested for a partner change, and has been actively avoiding Harry in the office.

of course, like with any romcom gone wrong, it is only now that Saint Potter realises that ‘hmm, something is up.’

He also realises how much of a better team he and Draco made, compared to him and Ron, because nobody got the paperwork done between them 

Harry realises that he misses Draco as a partner

but Draco somehow had the luck of being assigned solo cases that needed to be stationed really far away

the months following the partner reassignment, he manages to see Draco merely three times, and in those three times, Draco had only nodded at him.

This is where Harry realises: i have fucked up

Of course Harry attempts to talk or confront Draco about the thing happening between them

“Potter, I need space, and if you are supposedly as concerned as you are showing, you will keep your nose out of my business.”

whoop, obviously Draco is mad, but Harry doesn’t know why and he’s confused because he really misses the older male, but there are issues

FAST FORWARD TO HARRY ACTUALLY ASKING FOR HELP

ron is just as helpless as he is, hermione is just mum because wow harry this is a major screw up

luna is the one who actually gets to the point, telling Harry, ‘yup you’re in love with him and you’ve done fucked up’

but she’s optimistic, saying, you two just need to talk

‘Draco’s a little hard to understand, but if you don’t talk to him, you’ll never get to do so.’

ANOTHER TIME JUMP YUP WE ARE JUST SAVING THIS PLOT AT THIS POINT

Draco ends with a case involving a new drug that was supposedly being manufactured at this abandoned ship at some port

((i think its obvious I am not from the British Isles at this point okay plus this was done in an hour, liberties were taken and I am not sorry))

He gets ambushed and ends up getting chained to something he can’t get out of himself because he’s drugged and wandless, so no wandless magic

Harry gets suspicious that Draco’s partner gets back unscathed, but Draco is nowhere to be found

He grills the other auror for info and apparates to the ship, where whoop, it is on fire.

oh no.

cue on Harry’s gryffindor lack of self-preservation, where hE STILL GOES INTO THE SHIP TO FIND DRACO

he does find Draco, but idk the ship breaks, structural integrity is getting weak so he doesnt reach Draco in time 

BUT HE DIVES IN NONETHELESS

and sees Draco struggling to breathe and get out of his bounds

He spells off the cuffs, and drags Draco to the surface, and proceeds to send a patronus to Hermione

Hermione’s a healer in this au, okay

Draco is turning blue, and to say that Harry was panicking was an understatement 

He’s not breathing either, even with Harry’s attempts at CPR

Hermione arrives and does the wizarding equivalent of using a defibrillator 

????

yup I guess we’ll go with that for now and she also does a bunch of other stuff

Draco’s finally coughing all the water out his lungs, he’s breathing, albeit a little shallow and shaky at best

Hermione calls for back up because she can’t apparate them both, and Harry’s trembling--from the cold, or the adrenaline subsiding in his blood, but he wasn’t letting go of Draco’s hand

even when he was getting wheeled into the ER at St. Mungo’s, Hermione had to physically pry his hands off

‘he’s safe now, Harry. Let me have a look at you, now.’

Harry wants to say that he’s fine but he did jump into the sea in the middle of fucking winter, and the look Hermione is giving him is absolutely terrifying so he relents, murmuring that they should be tending to Draco instead

‘They are, and I need to tend to you now because I know you’ll scare off any other healer I ask to check up on you.’

Harry’s changed into warmer clothes, and he’s got a cup of tea in his hands to warm them

they’re still shaking, he doesn’t understand why the fuck he can’t calm down and puts it down

He just starts crying. 

The build-up of months of stress and the day’s events was too much for him to handle

‘Fuck, ‘Mione, I saw him turn blue. He wasn’t breathing, I couldn’t get him to breathe.’

‘He’s alive Harry, Draco’ll be okay.’

‘You don’t understand, I felt him die, ‘Mione.’

Of course, out of all people, Harry would understand how it feels to tap dance with death

Hermione just comforts him, willing away the tears in her eyes because it feels like this is the one time she can’t help Harry at all.

Ron just skids into the hall, and sees Hermione and Harry, and hugs them both without a word

back to draco, who has been under observation for a good two days and has finally woken up 

he sees Harry tucked into himself in the frankly ugly leather sofa by the window, head lolling forwards and back enough

Draco pulls himself up and groans, remembering how he got is ass handed to him in that ship and staring at the yellowing bruises on his arms 

Harry suddenly lets out a snore, which makes Draco snort but oh no what is in his nose

‘Circe’s tits, that fucking hurt.’ and he’s coughing up a storm enough to wake Harry up, who stares at him for a few seconds before he’s on his feet and pouring him a glass of water

‘What else do you need? the loo? food?’

‘A healer.’

‘oh. yes. yes, need to tell them you’re awake.’ 

‘Potter.--Potter!’ Draco manages to call after him before he got too far off

‘what happened.’

Harry explains what happened, the ship, traces of a drug in his system, almost drowning and what not

‘I’ll get someone, yup.’

Draco just shakes his head because he knew Harry was keeping something from him, but lets it go

he gets an extensive check up procedure, which is peculiar because this has been the first time they have been this attentive to his vitals 

he needed to stay for a few more days for monitoring, which is weird to Draco because I just fell into the ocean what is the big deal

A nurse comments offhandedly that he’s lucky that he survived drowning and near hypothermia

‘excuse me what’

‘From what I’ve heard, and judging from your vitals, you were minutes away from death’

‘enlighten me.’

‘Healer granger had to revive you using a spell she developed based off of Muggle Tech, she had to shock your heart.’

‘I was dead?’

‘you should’ve seen auror potter, he wouldn’t leave until your vitals stabilised. Healer Granger couldn’t even heal him properly so she had to administer a sleeping draught so he could finally rest.’

‘oh.’

hermione walks in, ‘oh, indeed.’

"I sent him home, if you were wondering.” Hermione says.

Hermione seemed to be able to read his expression, as she had just provided him with what he needed.

"He'd been sleeping here three days and that isn't doing anything for his injuries. Refused to get checked, so I just healed him so he'd actually go to sleep in a proper bed."

"So how are you feeling?" Hermione asked, already waving her wand as a quill hovered behind her, the quiet scratching against parchment, the only sound in Draco's room aside from his steadily better breathing. 

"Oh that's good. We managed to drain all the water from your lungs, no tingling in any of your limbs?" 

Draco shook his head. 

"No symptoms of hypothermia either." Hermione murmured a lumos under her breath, asking him to follow it and observing his eye movement.

Draco is just overwhelmed at this point, because this is the second day he had to endure these tests and Granger was terribly much detailed than the other healers

"You're almost well enough to be discharged, but I'll check you again tomorrow." She replied curtly, tucking her wand into her sleeve and the clipboard into her arm.

"Granger." Draco called, just as Hermione was about to leave the room. "Thank you, for saving my life. You have my thanks."

Hermione nodded, almost smiling at him. 

"Quite frankly, Malfoy, if Harry hadn't found your body, there wouldnt have been anyone to save, but you're still welcome."

draco is just dumbfounded in his bed, again.

The following day he gets the go signal to be discharged as soon as hermione finished her check up spells, and blaise and pansy were to pick him up

But harry manages to catch him just as he got dressed, immediately flushing as Draco's silent gaze fell onto him.

"H-hullo Malfoy, how are you doing?" 

OF ALL THE THINGS HARRY HAD TO SAY. HULLO.

‘Better.’

brace yourselves dace and i just ran thru this, dialogue is subpar at best, but wow they are finally communicating.

amazing.

"Uhm, that's it. I'll uh--i'll find hermione."

Draco rolled his eyes, calling out to him. "Potter."

"Uhm, ye...yes Malfoy?"

"Thank you. For finding me. If it weren't for you," draco breathed out, thankfully smoothly this time. "And granger, i'd be as good as fully dead."

Harry instantaneously lit up and frowned at the same time."Of course, Malfoy." 

Harry nodded. "Anything for you." He murmured under his breath, before turning away.

As soon as Draco was left to his own devices--tightening the laces on his boots, basically anything to just pass the time as Blaise and Pansy were just perpetually late--he heard Harry's god awful sneakers skid in the hallway and enter his room again.

"What is it, Potter, already come back for me to repay my debts?" He asked boredly, leaning back onto the hospital bed.

oh lord. Harry looked terrible.

Harry looked like he was about to throw up--green eyes erratic, lower lip between his teeth as he gnawed on to, hands shaky as he stuffed back into his pocket jacket, and out again.

"Please don't give up on me." He whispered, catching Draco by surprise.

"What?"

"The night you helped me get back home. I thought I was just too pissed on Tequila that I didn't even think you were real--"

draco's clamming up on himself, his arms are crossed, face guarded as Harry stood before him as his complete opposite, his vivid green eyes almost desperate as his lip wobbled.

"But I've died twice, Draco. I can tell apart what’s real and the pigment of my pissed brain."

"I'm sorry if you think I was cruel--if I hurt you without realising it, I'm sorry, please, please just don't give up on me just yet."

Draco is for a lack of a better word--Gobsmacked.

the boy who lived--no, that applies to them both now--is in his hospital room, in the verge of tears and looked like he was a sentence away from passing out.

"I'm sorry Draco," Harry trailed off, his voice breaking as he said Draco's name and using his hoodie sleeves to wipe at his cheeks as the tears rolled down.

"I was scared, and I didn't know it was okay to like blokes, I didn't know it was okay to like you, but I've ruined it, haven't I?"

Draco's heart is in pieces at this point tbh 

The first time he hears his name from Harry's lips, Harry's crying.

Draco sees Blaise at the corner at the corner, but luckily the other male was able to read the room and quickly dragged Pansy away, her retort lowering in volume as they went farther down the hall

"I'm sorry--fuck, i'm sorry for wasting your time." Harry said, sniffing as he wiped his face on his sleeve, running a hand thru the wild tangle of curls on his head. 

"Just ignore whatever I said. Get well, Malfoy."

i am: weak for curly haired Harry okay, humour me.

Circe, Draco thought, this is just getting painful to watch.

Because it seemed like he was being the wanker, making Harry cry even when the oblivious jackass was the one that started this whole fiasco

And Draco couldnt find it in himself to cut into Harry's blubbering at all. 

"Circe's tits, stop with the blubbering, Potter."

Oops. Not the best choice of words.

"What?"

Draco just stood up, and met Harry halfway and cupped his cheeks to press their lips together, mostly just to shut him up.

oh, wow. 

Draco could get used to this, and Harry let out a choked sound that was akin to a gasp and a whimper before he kissed back.

[[long, winded make out scene i am sorry i am terrible at those, I’ll leave it to your imaginations]]

Draco just says, "bring me home, harry."

And just shoos blaise and pansy off.

Which gets him the finger from pansy and a judgmental eyebrow from blaise

‘I make arrangements for a portkey at the last minute and this is what we get?’

‘at least it will make the cease of Draco’s whining.’

Pansy and blaise respectively

Both Harry and Draco spend their days in Draco’s estate just cuddling, and okay fine making out.

They finally talk and clear things out.

and Harry finally feels a moment of peace after nearly 25 years of being chased by a murderous madman and multiple criminals 

no hanky panky yet jesus draco died ffs

The following week, someone just yells from Draco’s floo.

and it’s loud enough to hear in the second floor in Draco’s bedroom.

"I know you died Malfoy, but you have to come to work."

its robards. 

he’s two aurors short, and they’re his best aurors.

"Please bring Potter too, just because you two have died doesnt mean you can escape the paperwork. "

Harry groans, while Draco merely laughs though its muffled against Harry's shirt, where his face is currenly buried into.

and they lived.

i guess

THEY COMMUNICATE MORE EFFECTIVELY NOW