#just need to reread it one more time for typos and last touch-ups

[beesinspades]

if all goes according to plan I should be able to post my new v*shwood fic soon! monday at most. I'm very excited to share it!

debating whether I should title it “scar-crossed lovers” or “for a sinner like me” 🤔

[just-some-random-blogger]

Magic Flute

Aemond Targaryen x Librarian!Reader

Summary: You were in charge of upkeeping the room of knowledge in the castle. Aemond was in charge of upkeeping the upkeeper's sanity.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Brief mention of mama issues, crying, fem!reader, smut (public sex ig, praise kink, biting, vaginal penetration), established relationship, typos, etc.

A/N: move over daemon, it's aemond brain rot time. who needs therapy when you can write fanfics🎈 the title is totally not about aemond's magnum co-

"I can understand why people reread books," I speak to the silver haired man, though I make no effort to turn to him, since my focus was on tomes on its shelf, "but you, my prince, read that as if your life depended on it." I look over to Prince Aemond, who looks like I just asked him to jump out of the window beside him. I raise my brows, "perhaps you are unaware that has a second part?" He stiffens. My face contorts in horror when I see red rise up from his neck, "apologies my prince. I did not mean to offend you." With that, I scurry away. Aemond shot out of his chair and raised his hand for naught.

I heaved heavily, willing the tears streaming down my face away. I ripped at my cheeks and prayed to all the gods that Aemond would be late today.

I laugh pathetically at myself.

Like seven hells he'd be.

I rub my eyes one last time and release a deep breath.

I gather myself up, bunching my skirt in my hand. But before I could even walk to the end of the isle, I drop the cloth and gasp at the sight of the prince standing before me. My hands fly to my chest. His own that were behind him fall to his side.

His one eye takes in the sight of my tears. He tilts his head, "what was it this time?"

"A splinter," I blurt too quickly, too unconvincingly, too prepared.

"Mm," he steps forward, "a funny thing to call your mother."

I do not rebut, nor do I move. I only allow him to press near enough that I could hear him breathe in the silence of the room. I gnaw at my lower lip as his hands land on my shoulders.

"Allow me to rephrase," his hands brush down my arms, "what did your mother say to you this time?" he mutters, taking my hands in his.

My eyes water so quickly that I could not do anything but cry.

His hands rest by my cheeks, pushing my tears away. I instinctively lean into his touch as I shudder out, "I would not dare worry my beloved prince."

"Then speak."

I close my eyes as I sigh. My hands grab onto his wrists and I begin to form the words in my head, "she made me out to be a fool again-- in front of everyone, my younger siblings, the good God in heaven, our housecats..." I heave, finally opening my wet eyelids. I frown deeper when I see his expression, the curve of his brows and lips.

"Aemond, I told you, I-"

He silences me with a kiss. It is firm but quick, and the moment he pulls away, he looks down on me with the same expression, "you're quite annoying when you're like this."

I am taken aback my his words. I scoff, "when I'm what?"

"When you think you're above being helped."

The annoyance on my face fades.

He lifts his head, as if in challenge, "you think I do not worry about the darkness in me that's corrupting you?"

"But that's diff-"

"How is that different?"

I knit my brows at his sardonic look and I grunt, "because I love you."

He chuckles, brushing back hair behind my ear, "you wound me deeply, lover," he presses a kiss on my forehead, "do I not show you enough that my feelings are mutual, if not more?"

I try to push back when he pulls me into his chest, just so I could look at him when I say, "you know I did not mean-"

"Yet it's what it means," Aemond dismisses, locking me in his arms until I have no choice but to relax against him. He releases a sigh once I do, kissing the crown of my head, "good girl."

I begin to snake my own arms around his torso, feeling lulled by the sound of his heartbeat against my ear.

Aemond leans his cheek against my head and rubs circles on my back, "now that my adoration for you has been brought to question," he pulls away to take my face in his hands again, "it is only right I recount all the ways my heart bleeds for you."

I am powerless against him when his lips press against mine. No amount of better judgement could have repelled me from kissing him so eagerly. Even as he shifts in his spot, pushing me against the shelves, sealing me against him, I do not squeak any form of protest.

It is only when his hands expertly grab at my skirts and handle my thighs that I finally gain some semblance of reason. I press my palms on his chest, half-heartedly pushing him off so I could moan his name in protest.

He mistakes this as praise as he bends and pulls me onto him, securing my legs around his hips. I hiss at the friction on my core and moan when I break our kiss, "Aemond, please."

His lips quirk, "so restless," he pecks my lips then trails down to my neck, "I'm getting there, my dear."

My hands dart to his shoulders. I do try to push him off but he is too eagerly working on my skin than I decide it would be better to dig my fingers into his nape and tug at his roots.

He moans my name against me, hips grinding me harder into the shelf.

"Aemond," I whine, breathlessly.

"Shhh," he kiss my lips, laughing darkly, "someone could hear."

All at once, the haze in my mind is lifted. By the time Aemond secures me against the shelf, I glare down at the scumbag, "that's what I've been trying to t-"

One of his hand flies to my mouth and my core is absolutely titillated by the vibrations of his chuckles as he rubs against me.

"Don't test me," he whispers against my ear, "you know I love the pretty sounds you make." The remaining hand on my thigh makes its way to my center. I screw my eyes when I feel his fingers rub against me. Aemond chuckles again, "be a good girl or I'll make sure you have no choice but to scream."

When he pulls his hand away from me, he props me down on the floor. I look up at him and gulp at his hot gaze as he undoes his pants. I lick my lips and watch him as he does so, readying my skirt back up, making him chuckle.

Once he is free, I don't manage to do much as he carries me back into our previous position and hastily sheathes himself in my burning heat.

He does a better job at concealing his groans. I however have to bite down on his shoulder to shut myself up.

"Good girl," he praises, positioning his hands on my thighs again, squeezing the flesh tightly.

My hands claw up to his shoulders as I pull my head back to allow myself to heave heavily.

He takes this as his cue to begin his ministrations. When he does, my arms latch around him and I bite my lip for dear life. I bottle in the whines I would have screamed out had we been in his chambers. In exchange, however, so I don't slip into madness, I rip at his blonde roots and bite at his earlobe.

He sucks in a deep breath, repositioning me against the surface so to get a better angle.

I cannot help but mewl against his ear when he begins to move so deliciously into me. I choke back whines, opting to bite down on his neck to keep myself mute.

He growls when I suck on his skin, pulling away. He looks down at me and warns with both his voice and his hips, "play fair."

I barely have my eyes open when I retort, "you feel so good."

I make the mistake of not closing my mouth after, which is why my moans ride up and down with this thrust.

"Fuck," Aemond mutters, covering my mouth with his in an attempt to shut me up. He nips at my lower lip, thinking it would make me close it, but I only end up moaning louder.

He quickly pulls away and slaps a hand back on my lips. He does not even scold me upon seeing how I was coming undone against him. His lips tug into a smirk as he roughens his actions, my moans threatening to spill from his palm.

"So pretty against me," he croons, as if he wasn't absolutely destroying me right this moment, "so loud and wanton, and all for me."

My pulse begins to quicken. My breath begins to lose me.

Aemond watches me as I open my eyes. He releases his hand on my mouth and I crumble against his shoulder, biting down again at his shoulder.

Aemond is so wondrously controlled that his brutal actions were barely audible, even with how he was fucking me against the ancient shelves.

"Say my name," he commands.

Obviously, I don't, cause I wont' say it, I'd scream it.

He still urges me though, and snaps his hips harder in that instant, "say my name against my ear so you will not forget again who loves you so, who makes you feel so good like this."

I hold back a whine. It takes everything in me not to be loud. I mutter under hot breath, "Aemond."

He growls, pace reaching a plateau at the speed he is in, "again."

The squeeze he gives my thighs make it impossible for me not to squeak. Still, I do my best to do his bidding, "Aemond."

And as if that was the secret code to pleasure, I clench around him and moan out his name one last time, a lot louder than anyone else in the vicinity would have enjoyed.

Aemond doesn't find it in himself to care as he chases his own high and subsequently spills into me as I shake against him in pure relief. The feel of him coming into me leaves me reeling.

He lets us ride the feeling up until he is too sloppy and spent to move at all.

I drag my lips over to his and pepper him with kisses as I repeat his name over and over and over again.

He leans into me, repeating the praise but with my own name instead. His hands finally release my thighs, only so he could gently put me down and bring his hands to my back.

I whine in protest, unwilling to unravel my legs against him.

He chuckles at that, and cannot bring himself to deny me of his touch. Aemond pulls me back closer, making me squeak and he throws me up in his grip to readjust me on him.

He kisses both sides of my cheek before muttering, "you did well, my love."

I wrap my arms tighter against him as I release a breath, "only because you did me well."

"Mm," he smiles, planting a kiss on my lips.

"My prince!"

My heart leaps into my mouth.

The sound draws nearer, "Prince Aemond!"

As much as I don't want to, I shuffle against him. He looks down at me with a raised brow as he suppresses my motions. I whine, looking up at him, "Aemond," I whisper-yell, "he's going to-"

"My prince!" the voice yells, "are you h-"

"I swear to you," Aemond growls so loudly that I cower at its intensity, "if you so take a step closer here, I will have both your eyes and feed you to Vhagar."

I slap his shoulder, releasing a whine.

"What?" he turns to me with a pout, "you wanted this."

[julemmaes]

“"can i have one more hug?" "aw, babe you don't have to ask, c'mere...”

For feysand?

And yes I will send a million of these don’t test me.

Love your work!!!!!

This was actually so cute, I hardly ever write Feysand so I forget how easily they come to me, but I love their ff versions.

No warnings, this is straight up fluff. I didn't reread so there might be typos and mistakes, be patient with me. Enjoy!:)

Word count: ~2k

Feyre stretched out like a cat on the side of the pool. Her back arched while she yawned and her shoulders dug in the hard stone floor, scratching her skin, but she didn't mind the subtle pain that came with it. 

Her son's giggles were filling the otherwise silent space and she turned on her side, with her arm bent under her head, just in time to see the toddler dive underwater. Azriel was standing right next to him with his hands hovering above the surface in case Nyx needed help coming up for air, but the kid was a pro at swimming. 

Not that that made his uncle not torture himself with worry. Azriel was probably gonna pass out any minute, if he didn't stop holding his breath whenever Nyx went in. 

When the baby swam up to her, all smiley and spluttering, Feyre reached out a hand that Nyx promptly took, gripping it so hard his knuckles became white. 

"Hi, mommy!" He shrieked, somewhat out of breath. 

Feyre chuckled and scooted closer to the edge, wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him out on dry land. He launched himself at her, immediately putting his arms around her neck and sitting on her stomach, making her gasp.

Azriel's soft smile before he swam away was one of reasons why Feyre never doubted her friend's love for Nyx. 

She heaved out a laugh when her son kneed her in the ribs in his excitement, hugging her tighter. 

"Are you having fun?" She asked, smoothing a hand down his back and parting from him just enough to look him in the eyes.

Nyx nodded frantically, popping his goggles off his face, "I'm a mermaid." 

"Oh, absolutely. Yepyep," she nodded, inciting him to continue.

"And uncle Azriel made me do the– he made me go under his legs." Nyx was still catching his breath, stuttering his words. Feyre touched the skin around his eyes, trying to soothe the red lines caused by the goggles. 

Before she could ask him more, Nyx was up again, his short legs struggling to straighten around her hips. Then, with a swift kick to her stomach, he jumped back into the pool, only coming up one second before he was diving down towards his aunts, who were peacefully sunbathing on their inflatable mattresses.

Feyre shook her head and massaged her sore side after all those attacks and decided it was time to get up, check what her husband and friends were up to.

Now that she thought about it, she hadn't seen Rhys, Cass and Lucien in a tad too long. 

Making sure one last time that her son was safe with adults checking on him, she tiptoed her way to their summer estate. She'd just stepped inside when Nesta's loud shriek reached her ears. 

Glancing back, she saw her standing in the water, drenched from head to toe, her mattress flipped upside down while she glared daggers into Azriel's face. Nyx was perched on his uncle's side, laughing his heart out at the expense of her sister's peace. Feyre shook her head and walked in, dripping water everywhere.

The house was unnaturally silent and she knew the three men she was hunting down couldn't keep quiet for the love of their life, so there was only one room where they could possibly be hiding. And if Feyre was right, they were gonna get in trouble. 

She walked down the stairs that led to their basement and the muffled screams and shouts coming from inside made her roll her eyes. 

She opened the door, taking a total of three steps before Cassian jumped up from his spot on the couch, fisting the air as whatever team they were rooting for scored a goal.

Lucien sipped his beer, nodding excitedly, "Fuck yes." 

Feyre crossed her arms and as loudly as she could she cleared her throat, a reprimanding expression on her face. 

Cassian swirled on his feet, screaming in fright. He brought a hand to his chest, "Jesus fuck, Feyfey. You can't just sprung up on us like that." 

"Oh yes. Yes, I can when my husband and brothers-in-law decide to sneak away during a pool party to do the one thing their wives asked them not to." 

She pinned her husband with her glare, but Rhys was already grinning at her, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of having been caught.

"Hello, Feyre darling," he said smoothly, extending a hand over the back of the couch. Her body reacted before she could remember that she was supposed to be angry at him.

She sidestepped the couch and sat on the armrest, her hand going straight to the back of Rhys' neck. His arm snaked around her hips and he sighed as she fell on the cushions and nestled against his side. 

"Who's playing?" She asked quietly. 

Rhysand was brushing his nose along her arm, leaving kisses on her shoulders on the way up. Goosebumps rose on her skin when his lips brushed her collarbone, "Velaris against Adriata." 

She eyed the score on the top corner. 3-0 for their home team. And they only had five minutes left before the game ended.

Feyre relaxed then, placing her head on Rhysand's chest when he leaned back and put his arm around her shoulders. His fingers started lazily tracing the lines of her tattoos and she closed her eyes. She could wait five minutes before scolding them. 

"Did, uhm…" Lucien sounded genuinely scary as he tried to speak. Feyre looked his way, one eyebrow arched in question. Her oldest friend scratched his chin, "Elain. Did she notice I was gone?" 

Cassian snorted, glancing his way for one second before going back to the screen. "You're scared of our flower girl?" 

Lucien stared at his back, "You would be too if you knew what she's capable of."

"She didn't notice, don't worry," she said, amused by his fear. And then, since she was getting increasingly bored, "But Nesta," she tisked, and Cassian's head snapped her direction. "I heard Nesta was looking for you, big guy. You're gonna be grounded for a looong time."

She had never seen a grown up man with Cassian's proportions move that fast in her entire life. The quickness in which he disappeared upstairs shocked everyone into silence and then Lucien chuckled.

"You're scared of our flower girl?" He mocked Cassian's previous words, moving his head like one of those car dolls. Then he got up, turned off the tv and told them he would go and check on the bbq. Within five seconds they were alone. 

Rhysand didn't seem bothered by Lucien turning off the game and Feyre knew he'd never been that big of a football fan anyway, which only prompted her annoyance more.

"Why were you here?" She asked, turning slightly so that she was facing him. She propped her feet on the couch, sliding them under his muscular thigh. One of his hands wrapped around her ankle and he started massaging her leg. "I asked you one thing, you could have at least respected that." 

He breathed through his nostrils, grimacing, "I know, I'm sorry." 

Feyre poked him on the side, making him wince. She pressed her forehead to his chest and he ran a hand down her hair, stopping to cup the nape of her neck. 

"Still, your son is swimming like an Olympian and you're hiding in your basement with your friends," she pushed, her voice muffled as she cuddled deeper and deeper into her husband's body. "I'm sure he would love to show you his new moves." She joked, shimming her shoulders, trying not to sound too disappointed.

"Cassian needed to talk to us about something," Rhys explained, leaning forward and leaving a kiss on her cheek. That piqued our attention, but before she could ask, he disentangled himself from their little nest and got up and walked to the fridge, leaving her gaping on the couch. "And nop, I'm not allowed to tell you. It's classified." 

He popped open a bottle of cherry cola and stared at her still sitting, now pouting at him.

She knew it probably sounded childish, but she missed him already. She wanted his hands on her again. 

Rhys smiled, his eyes softening, "What is it?" 

"Can I have one more hug?" Feyre whispered. 

His shoulders sagged, his entire demeanor changing as he walked to her. His hand went to her jaw, tilting her head back and he leaned down to kiss her softly. 

"Baby," he whispered on her lips, taking her hand in his, "you don't have to ask. C'mere." 

Feyre reluctantly stood up and when he wrapped his arms around her, she let go of a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. 

Rhysand was massaging her back, his hand slowly going up and down between her shoulder blades in a shooting motion. Her arms went around his waist and she pressed her cheek to his chest, right where his heart was beating calmly. 

He moved and one of his hands clutched the back of her head, pushing her impossibly closer to him. She tightened her hold on him, closing her eyes to soak in every second of it and he chuckled, the sound a little broken.

"Thank you," he murmured in her hair, leaving a kiss on her forehead. 

"What for?" Feyre asked in his naked chest. 

Rhysand shifted, bringing her head back and locking their eyes together. His were bursting with emotion when he shrugged and said, "I just love you so much." 

She huffed, feeling tears pick at her eyes. She pushed away from him, grimacing, and he laughed.

"Stop being so..  you, you're gonna make me cry." 

"Don't go. Come back," he was grinning, holding her wrist. Feyre shook her head. "I love you." 

She let her head roll to the side, glaring at him from under her lashes. His smile was blinding. 

It was a second before he pulled her in again and smashed their lips together. She was rigid in his arms, surprised by that sudden movement, but as his mouth sang her favorite melody, she melted in his embrace. 

Her lips parted to welcome him in and he groaned when their tongues met. Her hands snaked up his chest, tangling in his hair as she pushed him down to touch her. Her breasts squeezed between them and when one of his hands traveled down her waist, to hook under her thigh, she shivered in pleasure.

Rhys tore away from her, keeping his hand on her shoulders and breathing hard. His eyes were fixed on her parted lips and he shook his head. 

"We can't. Not here, not now," he breathed out. 

Feyre was finding it hard not to reach out and just say fuck it, but Emerie's voice sounded from upstair and she moaned, letting her head fall back. 

"I hate our family," she complained.

He chuckled, making her turn and pushing her towards the stairs. "No. No, you don't."

She sighed, "I don't." 

"I promise I'll make it up to you tonight." 

And it was the utter dominance and lust dripping from his voice that made her willingly wiggle her ass in his face. When his hand slapped her right cheek hard, she gasped, running up faster than she ever did, hopingprayingbegging that he would keep his promise and more.

[annabtg]

A piece of advice often given to writers is "just write; you can always edit later."

It's good advice, but with a caveat: you can't always edit later. You have to know how to edit.

Editing is a different skill from writing. Only recently have I managed to edit my own writing; up until the last few months it was either write it correctly the first time around or get a beta to edit it for me/tell me what to fix.

And as I'm editing/rewriting a scene right now, I wanted to share with you some tips I've picked up from practice and other resources.

A. STYLE

- Run grammar and spell check. If you haven't already. Personally, I like to look these things up as I write, but I suppose some of you might prefer to write your stream of consciousness first and edit later. Whatever works. (Just please run your check at some point. It's crucial.)

- Read out loud. You can find from missing commas to typos to stilted dialogue if you check how your writing rolls off the tongue.

- Count your adjectives, your adverbs and your -ings. Not to keep score, obviously; but these are parts of speech that are best used in moderation. If there are three adverbs in one line of text, you might need to eliminate one or two.

- Use your thesaurus. Again, in moderation. Look for oft-repeated or very trite words and replace them. If there are no working synonyms and you're still being too repetitive, consider a full rephrase.

B. CONTENT

- Be prepared to lose content. You might be forced to edit out a turn of phrase you like or a background detail that's not necessary for your story. Make your peace with it. Do try to work it in if you like it, but don't do it at the expense of your story. This is the cornerstone of editing.

- Don't hard delete. Keep your previous drafts. They may come in handy.

- Apply the writing tips you're given. For instance, "show, don't tell". Look for instances of telling that could be improved by showing, and rework. (Not going to get into an exhausting list of these.)

- Check the purpose of the scene. Every scene you write has a purpose, be it plot-wise, characterization-wise, setting up the scene for something or whatever else - otherwise you wouldn't be writing it. Read the scene again: does it do what you want it to do? If not, focus on your goal: what would be another way to achieve it? And work from there.

- Count your dialogue, introspection, and descriptions. This depends on your style too, but sometimes the problem with a scene may be that it's too heavy on one or the other. Often, I may not be in my best writing shape, but a dialogue pops in my head; I write it down to use as my guide, then when it's editing time, I add the details around it.

- Reread your previous scenes. It will help you get more in touch with your story and style and perhaps give you ideas such as what you can address that you haven't already.

- Mimic your favourite writers. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. If something doesn't work for you, think: How would X write it? What would they tell me to change if they read it? Don't worry, you won't get nearly close enough for it to be a problem. 😋

- Be prepared to rewrite. Sometimes editing just doesn't cut it; you have to rewrite from scratch. Paste your previous draft where you can't see it and start again.

C. GENERAL

- Take some distance. Look at your writing again tomorrow, or next week, if you can afford to. I know when my writing is fresh I am too attached to it. A week later, I am much more likely to edit out a sentence that doesn't work even if I really like the fancy verb I chose to use in it.

- Be aware of time and circumstance. Not all days are good for editing. You may be too tired one evening; you may need another cup of coffee one morning; you may be too aware of your pending chores one day. Don't force it; give it another shot when you're in a better state of mind.

- Write down your comments. Too often, we feel something is not good but we don't know why. Write down your comments as if you'd explain to someone what you don't like about it, then come back to it.

- Get a beta. Boy, do I know it's hard! But a good beta is a (all right, figurative) life-saver. Ask around, or ask a friend. I'm not saying don't post unless you get a beta, but I'm telling you it's not a shame to ask for help. I literally never post without at least getting someone to read my work first, even if all they are equipped to say is "It was good, I liked it."

- Beta for others. It's easier to spot what needs fixing in a piece that's not your own. You don't have to be super experienced, catch every single mistake, or produce a professional result; just read and comment on what feels off, explaining why (so that it's easier for the writer to know how to fix it). It's good practice, and you help someone.

I hope this will be of use to some of you! Happy editing!

[whelvenwings]

Up to Date?

Length: ~5k Tags: Canon Divergent, Y yo a ti Cas timeline, Misunderstandings

It's three months after Castiel was brought back from the Empty after confessing his love to Dean, and things are awkward between them. They haven't talked about it. Castiel can feel how much Dean wants to, but he won't let himself, and Castiel can only wait. But one night, with Castiel halfway across the world, he gets a text from Dean that might change everything - even if Dean didn't quite mean it to.

Castiel

It was just awkward. Castiel couldn’t deny it. Things between himself and Dean were definitely awkward.

Three months back on Earth, safe from the Empty with a little help from the Winchesters and from Jack – but Castiel and Dean still hadn’t talked about it. The things that Castiel had said – and what Dean had said in return.

I love you. Me too, Cas.

Castiel knew he should have expected this, the awkwardness. Hadn’t he known Dean long enough, at this point, to be able to predict him? And there was nothing more predictable than Dean not wanting to talk about something.

Still, it hurt. There had been that shining moment of happiness, if a word as soft as happiness was even the right way to describe the feeling of absolute blazing corrosive joy that Castiel had felt when Dean had told him that his feelings were reciprocated. And now, there was just… silence.

It was awkward.

And Castiel didn’t know what to do. Was Dean waiting for him to say something? But Castiel had already said it all. It was Dean who’d only managed to choke out a few words, Dean who must have more to say. And yet he said nothing. Days were slipping past full of staring and loaded sentences and quietness.

The fact that it was all so familiar didn’t make it any better. Castiel wanted something different. It had been different before they’d said anything out loud, but – but there had been something about hearing Dean say those words, me too, Cas, that had changed everything.

He didn’t need much. Nothing grand or unusual, only something to ease the tension. Even if it was just an expression on Dean’s face that acknowledged what had passed between them, instead of pushing it away.

But Dean… Castiel knew it was different for him. There were things that Dean didn’t allow himself, for a tangle of reasons that Castiel only barely understood. Dean didn’t let himself touch. Dean didn’t let himself speak. Dean didn’t let himself look.

But Dean wanted to.

Castiel knew Dean wanted to. So many aching years that Dean had longed for him, and Castiel had been able to feel it like a prayer – and not some soft and murmured thing, a prayer of an older kind, something raw and wordless and desperate. Something on its knees. Castiel could feel the yearning in Dean. It would have been so simple for Castiel to offer touch, but Dean hadn’t ever really let him. And Dean still wasn’t letting him.

And Castiel could still feel the longing.

When they were together, and when they were several thousand miles apart, too. It was there. Never any quieter or gentler, not even from far away. It always touched the same place in Castiel’s grace that it had done from the start. And the feeling of it was just the same, too, like being doused in oil and dropped into flames that reached and hoped and hungered.

Beautiful fire. A beautiful prayer. Castiel wanted to answer it. Dean behaved as though he didn’t know it was there.

The tension in the bunker had become too much, last night, and Castiel had abruptly left with just a quick text to Dean.

> I’m going to look for the artifact Sam read about in Seoul. It shouldn’t be left unguarded.

The artifact was probably just a trinket, if Castiel was being honest with himself, and its significance paled in comparison to everything they’d been through, but it was a reason to get away from everything and give himself a break. It would have only taken Castiel moments to find the artifact if he’d wanted, but he drew it out. He walked rather than flying, pacing the streets of Seoul, following up on the leads that Sam had found. His grace hummed and sighed against Dean’s prayer.

He hoped that when he returned, something might be different. That he and Dean could talk. Maybe even – as he walked down a side-street with neon lights that glowed through the drizzling rain, Castiel allowed himself a wry little smile. Maybe even do something together. Go somewhere. Go on a date.

A date. To a human the word would probably sound little, and normal, and silly for an angel to be thinking about. But to Castiel, it just sounded like something new.

And it was so easy, somehow, to picture Dean coming into the bunker's kitchen, pointing at Castiel semi-aggressively, and saying, so. You, me, date. Up for it?

Would that be how Dean would phrase it? Castiel tried it a few different ways in his head. Down for it? How about it? You in? Each time, the Dean in Castiel's mind looked almost angry as he waited for an answer. Each time, Dean's face softened when Castiel said, yes.

So easy to imagine. So out of reach. Castiel walked on through Seoul, the rain starting to thrum down harder.

–––––

Dean

It was awkward.

Dean knew it was awkward, and he wasn’t thinking about it – he wasn’t. Except when Cas did stupid shit like ditching the bunker without warning, leaving just some handwritten note like a kid sneaking out of his tent at summer camp, it made it kind of harder to ignore.

Staring down at the note in the bunker’s library, Dean pressed his lips together and read it over again, his eyes scanning the words while his brain paid no attention to them, lost in thought.

There was something so ridiculous about it all. The moment between them, the – whatever it had been, when they’d admitted their crap to each other – it felt so overblown to look back on. Sure, Cas had had to summon the Empty, he’d had to get all deep just to save Dean’s hide. But Dean… what he’d said had just been stupid. No point to it. Dean cringed when he thought about it.

Me too, Cas.

The words were so little like something Dean would ever say that they might as well have been in a foreign language. Me too, Cas? That kind of thing didn’t have to be said. Because obviously, him too. But what were they supposed to do about it? Buy each other flowers? Feed each other chocolates? God forbid – hold hands?

Dean felt a little hot rush in his chest just thinking about it, and an accompanying stab of guilt. What were they, seventeen? They were old. Too old for flowers and chocolates. Too old for holding hands. And too old for this weird tension between them, Jesus. Who got nervous and tongue-tied and awkward around a crush at Dean’s age?

Who called it a crush at Dean’s age?

Dean, sat in the library at the bunker, dropped the note Cas had left and picked up his phone. Practicalities. Just focus on the practicalities. He should at least make sure Sam had kept Cas up to date with the latest research about the artifact that might be hidden in Seoul.

Dean tapped on the screen of his phone for a few seconds, holding it a little further away from his eyes than he used to have to do. He read over what he’d typed once, and then hit send.

–––––

Castiel

Castiel’s phone hummed.

With a little clench in his gut, Castiel stepped under the cover of a dark doorway to get out of the rain, and pulled it out of his pocket. Dean’s name was on the screen, obviously. There was the usual leap of excitement, tinged with a familiar sinking feeling in his chest. Dean would probably be angry with him for leaving.

With a stoic line to his jaw, Castiel opened the text, knowing it couldn’t be anything good.

> So. You up to date?

Castiel stared down at his phone.

No… no. He couldn’t have read that right. He blinked, and tried it again.

It still said the same thing.

You up to date?

Dean had just asked Castiel if he was… up to date? If he… wanted to date?

However many times Castiel reread the text, it said the same thing. Castiel stood absolutely still, his eyes puzzling out the letters of Dean’s message again and again.

It was – it was just the way Castiel had imagined it, if not word perfect. The brusque tone, the question. Castiel, half in shadow in a porch in rainy Seoul, stared down at his phone as if it had just promised him the moon.

Dean had just asked Castiel if he was up for dating.

Via text. Obviously. Maybe all this time, it had just been that trying to talk face-to-face had been too much. Maybe Castiel should have left for halfway across the world months ago.

Castiel could feel his heart pounding. He couldn’t stop himself reading Dean’s question, over and over again.

–––––

Dean

When the text from Cas finally came back, Dean snatched up his phone. It wasn’t that he’d been sitting and staring at it, waiting for a reply – he’d just got a little lost in thought, was all, wondering where Cas was and why he wasn’t answering sooner.

The text, though, when Dean read it, put a frown on his face.

> I’m so glad you asked. Yes, I would love to.

Wait. What? Dean checked over what he’d said himself in his first text, just to be sure he hadn’t made some kind of a typo. Nope, he’d definitely just asked if Cas was up to date with the artifact.

So, Cas would love to… what?

Cas was glad he’d asked about what?

None of it sounded like the answer to a simple question about research on an artifact, at all. Maybe Cas was just in the middle of something, and misread Dean’s text. Not something that had ever happened before, but still. Whatever.

Dean circled his thumbs over the keyboard on his screen, and then typed a reply.

< Love to do what

Keep it simple, he figured.

He sat puzzling over Cas’ first message as he waited for a reply. So glad you asked. What did that even mean? Was Cas ever particularly glad when Dean asked anything?

The reply came back quickly, this time.

> Anything you want to do. :) Maybe just going to a bar?

Dean squinted down at his phone.

Anything he wanted to do about what? A bar?

Was he losing it? Dean reread the text over and then over again, and looked back up their conversation to try to make Cas’ reply make sense. The emoticon was typical enough, even though Dean hadn’t seen a smiley one in a while. The way it made his chest squeeze was ridiculous. It was just a smile. And it just followed the words, anything you want to do.

Before he could let his mind run too far with what exactly that could mean, Dean texted back in confusion,

< You want to go to a bar?

There was something about this conversation that was making his heart beat harder. Come on, he told it. What, you can face down the end of the world more than once and a little text conversation still has you like this?

Ignoring his solid logic, Dean’s heart only raced faster when Cas texted back,

> Yes, of course. Unless you think it’s a bad idea?

So… Cas wanted to go to a bar? With Dean?

That was – well, it wasn’t that strange on Dean’s personal spectrum of strange to not strange these days. Fighting Death and God and God’s sister and all the rest of it kind of put a bunch of other strange crap way down the list. But this was still… weird. Not bad weird, necessarily.

But how had they got here, why were they talking about this? What kind of a bar, why? Dean had just wanted to check up on Cas in a few brief words and suddenly they were making evening plans? Cas was making no sense. Was he doing it on purpose? Dean read the whole conversation over again, and pulled a face of utter and annoyed confusion for the benefit of no one, and shook his head.

He thought about it, and licked his lips, and shook his head again.

And then thought some more, and made a hand gesture, as if asking of no one, what the fuck.

He texted out,

< What do u mean

He stared down at the text for a second, and then deleted it, and tried instead,

< Why are we talking about this

He didn’t even read that one over again before deleting it. He made another face, and then quickly typed and sent,

< But you’re in Seoul

However they’d arrived at the idea of going to a bar, it didn’t particularly matter when Castiel was thousands of miles away. Had deliberately ditched, in fact, which was more of an obstacle to them having a nice evening out tonight than the distance between them, but Dean wasn’t going to say that directly.

> Only for a short while longer. I’ve almost completed the search for the artifact. Then I’ll come back :)

Another damn smiley face, another little lift in Dean’s chest. Look at him. Fully grown, and soft over the idea of his best friend looking forward to spending an evening together. Yikes.

Practicalities. Dean fired off another text.

< Okay... you just wanna talk or what

If Cas was going to try to insist that they talk about stuff, well – the drinks would probably be a good place to start, but Dean would need to psych himself up to the idea of trying to explain anything at all that had happened between them. Me too, Cas. He kept hearing himself say it and wanting to bury his head in his hands. What had he been thinking. What had Cas been thinking, when he’d decided on Dean. That had to earn the award for the worst fucking choice in the history of the world.

Dean’s phone buzzed in his hands.

> I think talking is what people usually do on a date. But we don’t have to if you don’t want to.

Dean’s eyes went wide.

–––––

Castiel

Across the world, in the porch in Seoul, Castiel watched as Dean’s little typing bubble with three dot dot dots appeared, and disappeared, and reappeared.

He tried to quiet the excitement in his chest, tried to remind himself that Dean had just implied fairly heavily that he wouldn’t want to talk on their date – which wasn’t unexpected for Dean, but it did leave Castiel wondering what else Dean might want to do.

A thought occurred to Castiel about something they might be able to do without talking, and he swallowed, and felt his hopes fly higher.

Or perhaps Dean just wanted to sit together in silence. That would be alright, too. Companionship in the quiet. When he thought about it, Castiel knew it would be more than enough just to sit by Dean in a bar and drink together, knowing that they were both choosing to be there. Even if they didn’t say a single word the whole evening, even if Dean didn’t so much as look at him the whole night. They could spend the date speechlessly. But it would be a date. It would be an acknowledgement. Maybe it would ease a little of the longing that Castiel felt and felt and felt from Dean, burning.

Finally, a text from Dean came in.

> Wait what

Wait, what?

Castiel felt his heart sink.

There was something wrong. That tone, just two stark words – something wasn’t right. Castiel scrolled back up their conversation. Had he accidentally said something rude? He couldn’t find it, reading the texts over and then over again. He’d used emoticons to show that he was happy. Had they seemed sarcastic?

Did it seem as though Castiel didn’t really want to go on a date? Or that he wouldn’t really be content for them to not talk on the date? Hurriedly, Castiel began typing again.

< I mean it. We don’t have to say anything. I just want to be there with you.

It was the kind of text that Castiel would ordinarily type out and then delete because it was too forthright, too emotional, too much for Dean – but this time, he just hit send before he could think about it. Worse than Dean being grossed out by Castiel openly having feelings was the idea of Dean not knowing that Castiel really did feel those things.

There was a long silence. Castiel stood still, waiting for Dean.

How many times had he stood, quiet, expectant, wanting Dean to be ready, hoping he would be ready, prepared to wait for an eternity until he was? In the span of Castiel’s own lifetime, he’d waited just a blink of an eye. But somehow this blink had been torturously slow. A torture Castiel would have fought to the death before trading.

Castiel’s phone hummed.

> You really want to go on a date

Castiel stared down at the screen. He couldn’t tell if the tone was judgemental or vulnerable. He blinked, and thought hard – and then, with a little shake of his head and hard press of his lips, he made a choice.

Quite suddenly, the street in Seoul was empty.

–––––

Dean

Dean almost fell out of his chair when Cas appeared opposite him in the bunker.

“Shit!” Dean swore, grabbing the table in front of him with one hand. He watched as Cas tilted his head just slightly sideways at Dean’s other hand, instinctively on the butt of his gun.

He eased his hold.

“Could’ve killed you,” Dean mumbled. Cas smiled wryly.

“You could have tried,” he said.

Dean swallowed. Right. Angel powers were all the way back up, these days.

“You’re back,” he said blankly, just to say something, because immediately leaving the room didn’t seem like it would be a good idea – however much the nervousness in his brain was insisting that this conversation wasn’t going to go well, and he needed to bail.

“Yes.” Cas lifted his phone up to face Dean, so that Dean could read their conversation on the screen. Dean glanced over it. It was strange seeing his own words on the left side of the screen, almost embarrassing. “What does this mean?” Cas asked.

Dean got to his feet, feeling too low down still in his chair.

“Uh…” He watched Cas warily, while trying to keep his tone light. “You tell me, Cas.”

“No,” Cas said firmly. “You asked me if I really wanted to go on a date.”

“Yeah,” Dean said.

Cas stared at him, clearly expecting more. Dean tried waiting him out for a few seconds in silence, hoping Cas would say something else, but Cas had that determined look in his eye that told Dean he was going to have to be the one to say something.

“What about it?” Dean said.

“What does the question mean?” Cas asked.

“Well, Cas, it’s kind of all right there. In the message.”

“You just asked if I really want to go on a date,” Cas said again.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “So, do you?”

It was all wrong. His tone was all wrong. It was aggressive, and blunt. He sounded outright angry at the idea that Cas might actually want to go on a date, and that tone didn’t even vaguely map over the ridiculous leap in his chest at the idea of a date together.

But somehow, Cas’ shoulders were dropping, and his face was relaxing, as though – as though that was what he’d been expecting to hear. Or even what he’d been hoping to hear.

“Yes,” Cas said.

Dean felt his mouth fall slightly open and his eyes go wide, and he looked away.

He could feel his breath suddenly coming a little short. He tried to stand very still and be very quiet so that Cas wouldn’t see what that one-word answer had meant. How much it had shaken Dean.

It was only when he heard the yes that he realised just how little he’d expected to ever hear it.

Cas wanted to date. The hot rush in Dean’s chest was back, and the accompanying punch of guilt readied itself… but held back. Because Cas had said yes.

He’d said yes.

“Is that a surprise?” Cas said, his tone dry but not unkind. Dean swallowed, and managed a smile when he looked back over.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Oh.” Cas looked confused. “But… I told you…”

“I know.” Dean shrugged. “I didn’t know if you’d wanna do any of that crap, though. Human stuff.”

He saw something clear on Cas’ face, as though something that had been weighing on him had suddenly been lifted.

“Ah,” he said. “Well… I do. Want to.”

Dean nodded, once, a little sharply. God, he had no idea how to do this. And it didn’t help that he could feel things moving inside him, shifting, like walls crumbling, like stuff he’d smothered finally elbowing its way up to be felt – a blazing feeling, a hurting feeling, a wanting. Somehow both familiar and terrifying.

“Okay,” Dean managed aloud.

“As long as you still want to,” Cas said.

Still? Had Dean ever actually told Cas that he wanted to go on a date? Maybe he’d just been that obvious. Or maybe Cas had actually been able to guess what Dean wanted from the way Dean had said me too, Cas, even though Dean hadn’t been able to guess what Cas wanted in spite of literally being told I love you.

“Do you?” Cas asked, when Dean was silent for a second too long.

That wanting feeling, that hot tense ache that almost had Dean’s teeth gritting against it at this point, it was demanding a yes. It was saying go, go over there, what are you waiting for now? But Dean swallowed it. He couldn’t just have that. He couldn’t. Could he?

“Well,” he said. “I dunno. I mean. We are kinda old for it. Aren’t we?”

Dean watched Castiel consider it, his heart thudding.

“I’m fairly old,” Castiel said, “yes. But I think I’m still allowed to try new things.”

“New things,” Dean echoed.

“Yes.”

“Like… dating.”

“Yes,” Castiel said. “If you want to.”

“And like…” Dean went to say something else, and then stipped himself. Too many things all rushing to the front at once. Too many possibilities. Too many things that he’d given up thinking he could ever have. Too many things he’d told himself it was right that he didn’t have, because it’d be embarrassing if he did.

But now, here was Castiel, standing in front of him and saying he wanted to go on a date. Watching Dean quietly, waiting for him to finish what he’d started to say.

“Like…” Dean said, and then stopped again, and shook his head. “I don’t know, Cas. I’m not… you know.”

“You don’t want to?” Castiel said, the question spoken so neutrally that Dean knew it came with effort – Castiel’s muscles had to be heaving with holding that door open for Dean to leave through, if he wanted. But Castiel was still holding the door. Still saying, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to.

“No, I – yeah. I mean, I – yeah, I want to,” Dean said, saying the last part to the floor. His chest felt as though it was going to crack open. He wanted walk around the table between him and Cas, and drop to his knees, and just ask Cas with his eyes to touch him, anywhere, anyhow, gentle or not. “Just… I mean, look at us. Are we really gonna fit with any of that crap?”

He couldn’t imagine them trying to do the usual sweet romantic stuff. Dates and gifts and cards and flowers. So stupid after everything they’d been through, like sticking heart-shaped bows on the muzzles of two rusting guns.

“What kind of crap?” Castiel asked.

“You know. The whole schtick. Lovey-dovey crap.” Dean mumbled it, aware that even in describing it he sounded ridiculous. Lovey-dovey? Christ.

“I thought we could just try things out,” Castiel said. “And see if we can do them our way.”

“But what if it doesn’t work,” Dean said, making an attempt not to sound too wretched. He watched Castiel, waiting for him to give up, to say this was already too much work, that it wasn’t worth it, and they should just carry on going as they had been.

“Then we try something else,” Castiel said.

“Right,” Dean said, with an almost-laugh. “And we just do that over and over, huh.”

“If you’d like.”

“You’d seriously be okay with just keeping on trying forever?” He said it as if it were a joke.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “Of course.”

Dean went quiet. The expanse of the table between them was far, much too far. He stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded, because he didn’t know what else to do.

Cas saying that he’d keep trying forever was absurd. What was even more absurd was that Dean actually believed him. Cas had that look on his face, the one that allowed no argument, not angry or proud, just – sure. Certain.

If nothing they did together felt right, Cas would stick by him and keep trying new things. Forever.

Dean felt a part of himself breathe out, and with it went the last of the wall. Now Dean was immolating, standing still in the library of the bunker, just burning and burning with wanting to be touched by Cas, and –

As Dean watched, Cas’ jaw was tightening, as though he too were holding himself back against what he needed.

They stared at each other over the table. You first, Dean begged him silently. Please, just come here, just come here.

Cas’ blue eyes were locked with his, trying to say something Dean couldn’t hear.

“Cas,” Dean said, into the silence.

Cas watched him, waiting.

Dean’s mind was a blank. He didn’t know how to take this feeling, this all-encompassing burning wanting yearning feeling, and turn it into words. He didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted without accidentally putting it out of his own reach in the asking. He didn’t know how to want in the way that received, only in the way that was hopeless.

And Cas only looked at him and waited.

Dean opened his mouth.

“I don’t know,” he said. Cas’ expression flickered, but he didn’t move. “I – you – Cas, Jesus, I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No,” Dean said quickly, immediately.

“Do you want me to stay here?”

“Yeah. I mean…” Dean swallowed. “No.”

Now Cas looked confused.

“Do you want me to…” Cas paused, puzzling it out. Dean watched him thinking, if I shouldn’t go, and I shouldn’t stay, then…?

“Cas,” Dean said, “come here.”

Cas blinked, and Dean watched the slope of his shoulders change, watched the way Cas’ eyes lightened with a sudden hope. He watched Cas take a step around the table, and then another, slowly, as though afraid to scare Dean off.

Dean couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. His hands were too big. He’d just asked Cas to come to him, and Cas was coming to him.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Dean moved, quickly, decisively, making for Cas as Cas came towards him, needing to be close and needing it now, and then – and then they were in front of each other in the bunker library, they were right in front of each other, standing with their hands by their sides and looking at each other. And all Dean could think as he looked at Cas was,

This is so heavy, it’s too much, it means too much.

And all Dean’s furiously thudding heart wanted was touch, anyway, no matter what it meant.

Cas reached up a hand, and gently – so gently – put it against Dean’s cheek.

Dean held his head up for a long moment, trying to keep himself together, keep it all in, be still, be silent. He gritted his teeth against the feeling in his chest, against the blazing of his happiness –

And then, he let go.

He closed his eyes, and breathed out. And leaned into the touch.

“I love you,” he heard Cas say.

“You shouldn’t.”

“I love you,” Cas said again, more determinedly, and Dean felt Cas’ forehead press to his own.

The touch of him was better than absolution. It was beautiful. It was perfect. Dean could feel the love of it running through him, easing the rusted gritty parts of him that had thought all this beyond him, and he wanted to gasp through the feeling of it like he was swimming through cold water. If he’d tried ten minutes ago to imagine Cas saying I love you to him again, Dean would have imagined it so sweet and unlike them. But this, this was happening. Cas’ forehead against Dean’s. Cas’ voice saying those words, I love you. And it felt real.

It felt like him, Dean, and it felt like Cas. This was who they were. This was how they loved each other.

“Me too,” Dean said. “Me too, Cas.”

He leaned forwards, and kissed Cas.

They didn’t go to the bar, in the end. They found they had enough to do without going out.

–––––

Dean

The next morning, in the kitchen, Dean turned to Cas and said casually,

“By the way, you never actually said. Are you up to date with the new research on the artifact? We should probably still try to find the damn thing.”

“Am I up to…”

Dean watched as Cas’ expression changed. It went from slight confusion, to sudden horror – and finally settled on a kind of dry acceptance.

“What?” Dean asked.

Cas came to stand by Dean, and because he could, Dean leaned forwards and kissed him again. His heart raced as he did it. Cas kissed him back, and Dean felt as though gravity probably shouldn’t be holding him down at this point.

“I, um,” Cas said. “When you texted me yesterday… I thought when you asked me that, you were asking me on a date.”

Dean’s brain took a second to catch up – and then he pressed his lips together to hold in a laugh. Cas tilted his head to one side.

“Don’t,” Cas said.

“I wouldn’t,” Dean said.

“Dean…”

“I’ll never mention it again.”

“I thought…” Cas closed his eyes, his head dropping as he smiled again at his own misunderstanding, and Dean let himself laugh. He reached out and put a hand on Cas’ shoulder, still a little tentative, still feeling his heart sing with the ability to touch. Cas leaned in, their bodies swaying together slightly.

“I love you,” Dean said, the words flowing up out of him like water from a spring, so easily, so naturally. He felt the immediate seize of panic afterwards, hearing those three words said in his own voice, out of his own mouth – but he couldn’t regret them, not when he saw Cas’ head lean back again, his blue eyes glowing with happiness.

“I love you,” Cas answered him. “I love you.”

[jinkicake]

High And Dry

The captains’ reactions to when you suck them off before practice, refuse to let them cum, and leave them with a boner right as practice starts. 

Bokuto Koutarou x Reader

Kita Shinsuke x Reader

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Oikawa Tooru x Reader

Sawamura Daichi x Reader

Terushima Yuuji x Reader

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Here you go anon~ AH, this is so long I’m going to add ‘read more’ so it doesn’t clutter your tl. I think this is one of the longest things I’ve ever written so please excuse the typos or weird wording if there is any,,, I can only reread my writing so many times as I edit it LOL

SMUT // NSFW 

WC- 4,317

~~~

Bokuto Koutarou 

Bokuto would be sooo happy to get a blowjob, right before practice too? Shite, it’s gonna make him sooo excited

Not to mention he will be a BEAST during practice like he is going to go off, emo Bokuto will not exist that day

Bokuto doesn’t really plan that well so I feel like there is a good chance someone is going to walk in on the two of you 

And that person is definitely going to be Akaashi

The setter won’t ‘notice’ though, he will pretend not to notice because of his big heart but he def saw

You may have to smack Bokuto silly for almost getting caught, like he wanted this so badly and didn’t prepare for it?!

Once you leave him high and dry Bokuto will go emo mode

Literally,,, he will be so dramatic and act like he can’t move like he has a broken leg or something…. You know,,, I mean his dick really be a third leg

He will be so lost and clueless, truly 

The next time he sees you after you leave him hanging, he will pounce on you 

“Please,” Bokuto pouts and you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“No.” You reply and Bokuto dramatically groans before sulking.

“It’ll help me play better,” Boktuo tries to persuade and you tap your chin with your finger. In truth, it is your fault that Bokuto has a boner but that doesn’t mean you have to suck him off! In any other instance, you would be on your knees and Bokuto wouldn’t even have to ask you but right now it’s different. Had you two not been in the storage closet and had Bokuto’s practice not start in twenty minutes you would have definitely said yes but now, it’s too risky.

“Let me think about it,” You tease and purse your lips in thought, feeling slightly guilty at Bokuto’s hopeful eyes. “no."

“Why not?” Bokuto cries and wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you into his chest so he can grind his pelvis against your lower back. “This is all for you.” He purposely tries to seduce you, not understanding what the word subtle means, and you want to roll your eyes at his method. 

“Because you have practice in like twenty minutes, Kou! And you know Akaashi always comes in early! You think you’ll be able to cum in ten minutes?” You ask him and Boktuo nods like it’s the easiest question in the world.

“Are you really asking me this, (Y/N)?” He almost wants to scoff but instead kisses your neck. 

“It’s too risky,” You whine and Bokuto only tightens his grip on you.

“But me eating you out last week in our classroom, that wasn’t risky?” Bokuto accuses and you scoff while lightly slapping the side of his head.

“Don’t bring that up!” You cringe and Bokuto shakes his head.

“You really enjoyed it, and begged me to do it all day,” He sticks his tongue out and you reach back to cup him through his shorts, roughly fondling him as you sink to your knees.

“Yay!” 

“Shut up,” You hiss and start to pull down his shorts when you hear the familiar creek of the door opening. Instantly you rip your hands away from Bokuto and pretend to be looking at your shoe. 

“Oh, Bokuto, (Y/N), what are you guys doing here so early?” Akaashi asks curiously as he grabs the cart of volleyballs.

“Just tying Bokuto shoes.” You laugh nervously and Akaashi nods his head.

“Yeah, he sometimes needs help with that. Since you guys are here early you can help me set up the nets.” Akaashi points to the poles and you mentally groan as he walks away. 

Bokuto pouts at you when you walk towards the doors of the closet.

“Kou, I’m not sucking you off so stop looking at me like that.”

Kita Shinsuke

Kita is such a sweetheart like why would anyone want to tease my sweet baby like this

It would be great revenge though,,,,, to leave him with a rock hard boner before practice HAHAHA

Let’s say he ditches you for Atsumu or something…. Just suck him off right before practice and leave him like that, it would be great payback…. You’ll learn your lesson Kita!!!

I feel like it would be hard to convince him to let you suck him off in the closet,,, Kita just seems so responsible and level-headed, mature, like how could he let you suck him off in public?!

But then you sink to your knees and all his thoughts of restraint are GONE

It would seriously take some heavy convincing for this man to allow you to suck him off before practice

Like he needs to remain calm, and mentally prepare, before dealing with the clowns he calls a team, but one thought of your beautiful mouth wrapped around him and Kita is HOOKED

He really likes when you give him blowjobs like Kita,,,, becomes such a mess for you because it feels sooo good 

If you leave him high and dry,,, good luck…. He will literally plan how to get you back the second you leave

Kita does not care about the boner sticking out through his shorts, he is more hellbent on punishing you,,, even if he deserved it

“Petal, you don’t have to.” Kita tells you but you refuse to listen to him, having him already halfway in your mouth. “My sweet petal, you’re always so good to me.” He groans softly and grabs your hands with his, tangling his fingers with your own. 

Kita always lets you set the pace, he never tries to control you whenever you suck him off. 

You hum lightly and run your tongue along the underside of his cock, caressing every ridge and vein with your warm muscle. Kita loves hearing you moan, loves seeing the way spit pools out of your mouth at the size of his cock, everything you do leaves him utterly weak. 

His fingers squeeze yours and you smirk at how turned on he has become in such a short amount of time. A lightbulb flickers over your head and you purposely take him entirely in your mouth, ignoring the burn you feel in your throat. Kita lurchers forward, squeezing your hands so tightly that you nearly wince. You try to take him deeper, a personal challenge to see if you can touch your nose to his abdomen but before you can do so, you end up gagging. 

Kita immediately lets go of your hands, he cups your cheeks and pulls you off of him. Despite the need to cum at the sight of you looking so wrecked, he can’t help but worry about you.

“Petal, are you okay? You can’t just-“ Kita lets out a high-pitched moan as you take him entirely in your mouth once again, you’ve never heard him release a noise like that. It only fuels you to keep going even more. After you swallow around him once more, you let go and pull yourself off him to stand up to your feet. Kita looks utterly confused, and delectable with the way he is oh so spread out for you, you simply narrow your eyes at him. “My love?”

“Next time you want to ditch me for Atsumu, remember that I am the only one who can make you cum.” With one last glare you flip your hair over your shoulder and walk out the closet, leaving Kita with an uncomfortable ache between his thighs and a team to lead in less than five minutes. 

Kuroo Tetsurou

Kuroo is such a punk ass mf,,, he wouldn’t have to think twice about getting his dick wet before practice 

You… on the other hand, though, might need some convincing,,, which is no problem for Kuroo

Please his smooth-talking and sweet words will have you on your knees before he even finishes his sentence

I feel like Kuroo would purposely do stuff to get caught, not that he wants to be caught but he likes to rile you up,,,, he’ll moan extra loud or knock his head against the wall

He loves it whenever you get mad at him and slap his thigh or tightly grip the base of his cock as a punishment

Kuroo loves his punishments 

When you leave him high and dry for whatever reason, most likely because he deserves it, Kuroo will be so confused

“What do you mean no?” He’d pout and frown in a way that makes you want to finish him off for being so cute

But let’s be real, this freak will have no problem jerking off in the bathroom or something like he will finish in less than five minutes

So if you don’t finish him off then it’s no problem, he’d still be pissed though because he loves when you touch him but, he wouldn’t hold it against you 

Kuroo’s groans vibrate against the walls of the small storage room and you pinch his muscular thigh as a warning. Your irritating boyfriend simply sends you a cheeky grin before moaning at the way you suck on the tip of his dick. 

How you let Kuroo’s smooth words convince you to suck him off before practice, you don’t know, but you have a feeling you’re going to regret it. 

You move your mouth along his member, running your tongue along the underside of his cock, bobbing your head with purpose. Kuroo stares down at you, his teeth digging into his bottom lip and you know what he wants you to do. 

It is always so hard to fit all of him into your mouth, the ache in your jaw always punishes you whenever you try it but, you always push yourself to do it. This has to do with the way Kuroo will literally fall to his knees, the way you can feel his thighs shaking, whenever you take him down your throat and hollow your cheeks. 

He fucking loves it.

With one last deep breath, you squeeze your eyes shut before opening them and taking Kuroo down your throat. Kuroo chokes and his hazel eyes widen, his jaw falls open and he leans his head back against the wall. He looks so ruined, so captivated only by your mouth and it makes you feel all warm inside. 

“So good baby, so good.” He praises and smooths your hair over, you moan happily around him.

Much to your horror, you hear footsteps outside the closet. You glance at the door and notice Kenma sliding it open. The pudding head takes one glance at you before shifting his eyes to Kuroo, and with a disappointed shake of his head, he slowly slides the door close without so much as one word. 

“Kuroo, what the fuck!” You cringe and push yourself off of him, the hot humiliation floods over you. Of course, someone was going to see! 

“Babe, what?” He looks so utterly confused and you simply motion to the door, Kuroo didn’t even notice. You simply cover your face and hide in his chest, completely ignoring the way his cock twitches against your stomach. “You going to finish this or what?”

“NO!”

Oikawa Tooru

Oikawa is all talk, my favorite shit talker. He is THE shit talker of Haikyuu and not one person can beat him

I’m not taking any other arguments because they are all wrong~

Oikawa would literally be like ‘you want to help me get ready for practice?’ All cooly and suggestively but then the second you follow him into the locker room he screams

“W-what are you doing here?! (Y/N)?!” He’d be so shocked… you ….. in the boy’s locker room?! 

His precious s/o can not simply breath the disgusting boy air from the locker room and so Oikawa brings you to the storage closet 

“Did you not want a blowjob?” You’d have to bring it up or else Oikawa would be so confused, cue Oikawa’s head exploding

Oikawa.exc is not working

You’d have to convince Oikawa to let you suck him off because he would not be that into it,,, it’s in public and he doesn’t want to get caught! Oikawa has standards~ 

Of course, once you actually get to work and start sucking him off THEN he would be into it,,,, when you stop and leave he’d be like ‘where are you going?!’

Then you can simply tell him to get someone else to finish him off,,, to which he’d bite back and say that he would !!! Oikawa, Iwaizumi is not going to suck you, off I’m sorry.. not in this case >:-)

“(Y/N)!” Oikawa cries dramatically and you roll your eyes while wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I didn’t finish,” He pouts and you nearly give in, but then you remember why you are so angry. You instead ignore Oikawa and place him back into his shorts, lightly patting his hard cock over the thin material. 

“Go ask one of your other girlfriends to do it.” You sneer and Oikawa places a hand over his chest, gasping in shock. “You always ditch me to go talk to them so why not just ask them to help you instead!” You continue to rant and Oikawa feels himself smirk.

“You’re jealous.” He points out and you snap your eyes to his, his warm brown eyes flirt with your own and you nearly slap him upside the head. 

“Wouldn’t you be?” You snap back and Oikawa raises an eyebrow. “Next time you want attention, I’ll just go talk to Hanamaki.”

Oikawa internally sighs, his own ego-deflating a bit when he realizes how upset you are. He never intends to hurt your feelings. 

“Baby,” He coos softly and wraps his hand around your bicep to bring you directly back into his chest. “my precious (Y/N), I’m sorry.” Oikawa apologizes softly while running his thumb along your arm in gentle circles. “You know I never want to hurt you, I should have noticed before.” 

You want to roll your eyes but you feel yourself faltering when Oikawa begins to lightly kiss your neck.

“You’re all I’ll ever need, don’t you realize that?” He asks while hovering his lips over your ear, moving one of his arms to grip your waist. Oikawa gently blows into your ear and grins when he notices the way you squirm. “You have no reason to be jealous, baby, I promise.” 

You timidly look up at your boyfriend, insecurity written all over your face, and Oikawa cups your face with his hands before placing a soft peck on your lips.

“I’m still not going to finish you off.” You snap and Oikawa pouts before kissing you once again. 

“And I love you for that~”

Sawamura Daichi 

Daichi seems like the type of responsible person who would not be into any sexual interactions in public but,,,,

I feel like if you asked if you could suck him off before practice, Daichi would be like ‘sure’ 

Only if you are alone, if there are other people around he would scold you and act like he wasn’t into it

It is not that hard to lure Daichi into the palm of your hand but make no mistake, he still has most of the control

Pretty much, all of the control 

So,,,, when you get up and leave, literally paying no attention to the fact that you left Daichi with the worst boner he’s ever had in his life- 

Daichi is not going to have it, he’d be so confused and I think he would be quick enough that he’d grab you and be like yo wtf 

It’s not hard to get out of his grasp though, just play with him a little bit and then catch him off guard and then RUN

Daichi would probably be one the funniest mfs in haikyuu to tease because he is so …. Idk I feel like his revenge punishments would really be worth it

Like this man will plan out everything for his precious baby, he will leave you withering and crying for more,,, all because you ran away before he got the chance to cum

“Daichi!” Sugawara whispers, his brown eyes wide in shock as he tries not to look at his friend’s shorts. Daichi only sighs before turning to his vice-captain, already knowing what he is going to say.

“What?” Daichi whispers back and the grey-haired boy subtly points to his shorts.

“You’re,” Sugawara starts but shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “You have a boner!” He whisper-yells and Daichi tilts his head back, trying not to audibly groan in annoyance. 

“I’m aware of that Sugawara.” Daichi sighs sadly and his friend looks appalled by his answer.

“You need to go fix it!” Sugawara scrunches his nose before pushing his friend towards the bathroom, sending a nearly passed out Asahi a sympathetic smile. “Go! Don’t come back until you’re normal!” 

Daichi sighs once again and sits down on the bench, irritation flowing through his blood at the fact that Sugawara quite literally benched him. He tries to think about something, something to make him so soft that he can never get hard again, but it doesn’t work. Not when the only thing he sees are your teasing eyes and sinful tongue worshipping his cock.

Is he really going to jerk off in the bathrooms? 

Daichi thinks and walks with shame as he heads to one of the stalls, his fist already pumping his length underneath his shorts. This is so disgusting. 

Yet, the painful tense feeling in his shorts is more powerful than the shame he is facing. Daichi closes his eyes and tries to remember the way your cheeks hollowed as you swallowed around him. He remembers the feeling of your hands cupping his balls and massaging them with your soft fingers. Daichi bites his lip to hide back the moan he faces after one particularly hard tug. 

Each jerk of his hand is associated with some thought of you. Your eyes welling up with tears, your moans, the way you gag around his cock, the way you stick your tongue out after he finishes to show him all the cum you collected. 

Fuck. Daichi comes all over his hand, thankfully catching most of it on the tissue paper he had beforehand. 

Now all Daichi can think about is getting through practice and punishing you so harshly that you’ll be begging him to stop.

Terushima Yuuji

Terushima would be so casual when asking for a blowjob, the boy has no shame

‘Hey babe, suck my dick after school.’ ‘Please, I’ll make it worth your while.’

Typical fuck boy methods but the only difference is that Terushima genuinely only wants you,,, You’re exclusive

He’d have to persuade you to suck him off,, he would never force you to do it or force it onto you like he will only let you suck him off if you want to do it

If you leave him without letting him finish, Terushima will fall into despair 

Like yeah, he can finish off in the bathroom but he doesn’t want to do that! 

He’s not mad at all, if anything you teasing him and leaving him dry like this makes the entire situation hotter

I feel like Terushima would be an expert at hiding his boner and he would not do anything to take care of it

He would practice with that boner and will carry the energy of wanting you so badly all the way until you finish him off

Terushima is the type to pull up to your house with such an innocent nice smile, say hi to your siblings and parents before completely destroying you in your room

“Ah, that’s it baby, so good to me.” Terushima groans loudly, he’s leaning against the wall with his legs parted slightly so that you can fit between them. His long fingers are threaded in your hair and he uses the grip he has to move your mouth along his cock. The pace he is fucking your face at is fast, every time you gag it just makes him even harder.

You’ve continuously told Terushima time and time again that if he thrusts into your mouth when he is already down your throat, you would stop. So far, he has listened. 

“Yes, shit.” His head falls back against the wall when your nose brushes against his pubic hairs, the feeling of your tight warm walls convulsing around him nearly makes Terushima cum. “That’s my girl.” He moans and you whine at the noise, something about Terushima’s moans make you clench around nothing, it makes you utterly weak. The vibrations from your mouth go straight to his cock and Terushima can’t help the way he bucks his hips, thrusting deeper down your throat. You gag loudly and shake your head, a few tears fall from your eyes at the painful sensation. 

Angrily, you push Terushima off of you and hold onto his thighs. You cough loudly to try and get rid of the sore feeling in your throat, but it doesn’t go anywhere. 

Terushima feels bad, he really does, but fuck he can’t stop looking at your swollen lips and puffy cheeks. 

“Babe, I’m sorry-“ He starts but you cut him off. 

“No, I told you what would happen if you did that again.” You roll your shoulders back as you stand up on your feet, flicking his forehead as soon as you get close enough to him.

“Come on,” Terushima grabs your hand and tries to bring you back to his chest but you simply slap his hand away. “I really am sorry.” He apologizes with a soft kiss to your lips, lovingly rubbing his thumb along the front of your throat.

“I forgive you but, I’m not finishing you off right now.” You tell him and turn around to walk out the door, leaving Terushima with his ultimate nightmare. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Ah, Wakatoshi my sweet baby bear~ Where do I begin >:-)

He’s so chill that if you offer to suck him off before practice he would say yes

I feel like he might lecture you about the risks or something just to talk to you LOL ,,, it’s so casual like he’s talking about what he’s eating for dinner that night... ‘if we get caught, we could get in trouble, I would not mind if you sucked me off though’

Yeah he will have no refusal when it comes to you offering oral like you do not need to ask him twice

He loves when you suck him off so much that he does not care if you have any ill intentions behind your movements 

This would be the ultimate tease move, the ultimate power move that would leave Ushijima BENT

Literally, you leaving him high and dry would have him leaving practice as soon as it ends and making a b-line to your room to fuck you until the ache between his thighs is gone

He will go feral and tbh,,,, yeah that’s what you wanted 

Truthfully he wouldn’t be mad at all, he would just be confused like genuinely lost. ‘I thought she wanted to suck me off, why did she leave?’

That day he’s going to make practice hell for the rest of the team, he has to get rid of his frustration somehow 

“Fuck,” Ushijima hisses through grit teeth, his jaw slightly agape as he holds your hair out of your face. Your innocent eyes stare up at him as you swallow around his aching cock, there is quite the contrast between the two tones. Ushijima’s chest heaves with every breath he takes and you squeeze your thighs together when you watch the way his eyes flutter shut. His entire chest is out on display for you and it makes you take him even deeper down your throat. 

At the sound of a bell ringing, you take a deep breath in through your nose before taking Ushijima all the way in your mouth. Your nose brushes his pubic hairs and from there you run your tongue along the base of his cock while swallowing all around him. Listening to Ushijima’s loud grunts and feeling his hands tighten their grip in your hair makes your stomach sting like heat is simmering within you and needs to be taken care of quickly. Despite this, and Ushijima’s refusal, you pull off of him.

Ushijima stares down at you, his pupils blown wide, as his chest continues to move like he had just finished running a marathon. You break eye contact with him to lick at your bottom lip, breaking the line of spit that had connected you to his hard cock. Ushijima’s breath stutters.

You teasingly cup him before placing back in his boxers, you lean forward to place a kiss on the boner poking out through his shorts. Your boyfriend grits his teeth at your movements. 

“You have practice babe, good luck.” With that, you stand up and place a kiss on the corner of Ushijima’s lips. Your boyfriend barely has time to even notice that you’re leaving, his brain running with thoughts of how you just sucked him off so well. 

He didn’t even get to cum.

A loud sigh leaves Ushijima’s lips as he stares down at his shorts, should he jerk off? He can’t just show up to practice like this. He tries to remember what Tendou had told him, think of something to turn him off, but he can’t stop thinking about your warm mouth. 

Fuck, what is he going to do now?

The next day all you heard about from Tendou was how hard Ushijima made them practice, the red head kept complaining about all the running they had to do. You couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit guilty and responsible for it.

~

Taglist.

@yams046 @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy @xhanjisungiex @xxashshs @chaosamu @angelkogane @augustdearly @kunimwuah  @lovellucy @osamuonigiri @pearzuko @darksxder @macaronnv @nerdygremlin

[molinaskies]

Ok there's a lot of caps in here and it's kinda long but I nEED to tell youuu😭😭😭

Oh my GOD O HOY MYBGOSI MYGOSHGDHOVMG

I LOVE YOU COME WITH ME KILLED ME 1000 TIMES OVER I LOVED IT SO DAMN MUCH THE WAY YOU HANDLED THE VHARACTERS WAS CHEF KISS AND THE WAY THE STORY FLOWED FRLT SO NATURAL IM NOT OKAYYYY

I love that you gave Amy so much awesome spotlight because she's!!! A really!! Cool!!! Character!! And it was so cool seeing how you put in different ways of how she can stand out AS a character it was SO

YES

SO MUCH YES AMY IS A DIMENSIONAL CHARACTER AND U 100% MADE ME LIKE HER CHARACTER POTENTIAL SO MUCH MORE ALREADY OMG

And I looooove how you explored BOTH of their nuances!!! It felt so easy to actually see and EVERY interaction felt so REAL AND LOVELY AND HEARTWRENCHING NHBUHSBBUBHSOBBING

I don't read fanfiction like ever And! And I BINGED this entire thing!!!! LITERALLY From when I found it to the very last chapter!

I love when people look at sonic and see all the in-character folds that are there that nobody pays attention to!! Like how he's a really sweet guy but doesn't show it much and how with all the complexity of Amy's character it just comes out so EASILY and how they just FIT SO WELLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

LITERALLY E V E R Y TIME SOMETHING WAS A SWEET LINE OR A LITTLE HINT CALLBACK TO A PREVIOUS THING I LIKE DANCED AROUND LIKE ACTUALLY IT MADE ME SO GIDDY

I mashed that kudos button like crazy LEMME GIVE MORE THAN ONE AO333333

I almost never react to media I take in and this!!!!! Destroyed meeeeeeeeEEEEEEEE LITERALLY EVERY EMOTION TO FEEL WAS THEREEE

ANYWAY, I ADORE this fanfic analysis of the characters EVERY SINGLE WORD CHOICE AND DIALOG LINE AND PARAGRAPH SPACING AND ENVIRONMENT DESCRIPTION WAS SO PERFECT I LOVED IT LOVED IT LOVED IT SO MUCHHH

I'm like ACTUALLY gonna reread this at some point I loved it sm I could gush about every individual chapter bc I read them so hard WORD FOR WORD THERES SO MUCH PACKED IN THEREEE

There's probably like a zillion typos in there but I stayed up reading this so my brain is hardly anything but in a dream state already LMAO

MILLION GOLD STARS MILLLLLIIIOONNN GOLD STARSSSSS💫💫💫💫💫⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐🌟⭐🌟⭐🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Thank you, Anon! You’re so lovely and so sweet 🥺 this made my day to read!! Thank you for reaching out :)

I Love You - Come With Me has my heart and soul inside it, so I’m absolutely touched to hear how much you enjoyed the journey! I’m glad you caught all my little hints and things :))

Thank you again for your kindness ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

[escapewriter]

Lover

pairing : vernon x reader

synopsis : love makes you do crazy things, except this wasn’t really crazy for him. he’s just a man in love who’s willing to do it all for you.

genre : fluff, like a lot of fluff, humor

word count : 3.6k

warnings : none

posted : 2/17/21

a/n : ty ty to @woozisnoots for beta reading. i really needed it or it would’ve sounded so awkward so tysm alex <3 and HAPPY VERNON AND SEOKMIN DAYYYY. tell me why this took me almost a month to write even though its like... eh. neway, I HOPE YALL ENJOY, it has that princess and the frog vibe.

TAGLIST : @vibecheckvernon @beomiebear5 @lightoflife @skylions-den @noniesgirl @woozisnoots

won’t let me tag : @pandora1834

send me an ask/dm if you would like to be on the taglist

pieces of love masterlist // playlist // main masterlist

‘Letter 355’ was written in big letters on the front of the envelope. You sat on the bed as you tore the sealed flap open. Vernon has been writing you small notes ever since your 6th year anniversary. This is the first real letter you’ve gotten because before, it was simple post-it notes, and as your 7th year together approaches, you can’t help but wonder what he has planned this time.

You took out the paper, unfolded it and scanned his messy handwriting. You smiled as your fingertips touched the ink on the paper. You began to read:

Ma Belle,

I hope you will have a wonderful day today. Are you surprised you’re getting a letter instead of a post-it note? You probably are lol. Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for the messy handwriting, I had to leave early this morning and didn’t have time to write neatly, or spell correctly so if you see some typos, you didn’t (cue the clown emoji).

Also, a heads up, I may be returning home late due to the guys wanting to hang out, so if you need me, call me. And yes, I’ll text you if I have to stay at one of their apartments and I’ll text you when I leave. I know the drill ;)

Please be safe today, and you know MY drill don’t you? It’s the exact same thing I said above, HA! So, text me when you leave the house and when you arrive at work. I can’t wait to see you again (even though we live together). I love you Ma Belle. Just 10 more days!

Love, Vernon

You smiled at the nickname he had given you as you felt the familiar rush of fireworks erupt in your stomach, hugging the letter close to your chest. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have a man like Vernon. He took time out of his day for almost a year just to write you a letter every morning so you could wake up happy. He is an absolute crazy man for doing this.

You folded up the letter and carefully placed it back in the envelope. You went to your desk, grabbing the photobook on the shelf and opened it, seeing where you kept all his notes for the past year. You flipped to a page and inserted the letter in an empty slot. You closed the book and placed it on the shelf once more, looking at it as you thought about how he was capable of doing something like this for a whole year, who knows what he has planned for your anniversary.

~

Vernon has a lot planned actually. He is going to keep writing you letters every morning before he goes to work, but on the day of your anniversary, it’s going to be a little different and he couldn’t wait for that day to come.

He walked alone, glancing into the stores that he passed as he waited for the call. He turned around and began to head back to where he came from before, feeling the buzzing of his phone. He looked at the screen and answered.

“Hey Shua, are you guys done?” He bit his lower lip a bit, hoping they got what he had asked for. He heard his friend sigh on the other end of the line.

“Hell yeah we got it.” Letting out a breath of relief, he nodded as he listened to Joshua tell him to return back to the car so they could go and eat. Hanging up, he walked quickly back to meet up with his friends.

He could not wait for the day to come.

//

You saw ‘Letter 360’ taped to the refrigerator when you reached the kitchen to prepare yourself breakfast. You had only received small notes like before ever since ‘Letter 355’, so you were a bit taken aback because you simply thought that he wrote a long letter due to his busy schedule that day. You weren’t sure what to expect of this though as he told you the night prior that he would be home before dinner.

You tore the flap of the envelope and took out the paper, quickly unfolding it as you began to read his messy handwriting:

Ma Belle,

Did you sleep well last night? I hope so because then I’ll feel bad for not being able to be there with you to make you feel better :( But!!! I hope this will make your morning a bit brighter if it wasn’t already. Inside the microwave are some pancakes that I made Mingyu bring for me because I would’ve burnt them. But they’re probably cold so you have to heat it up. There were 4 in total but I was hungry and ate one hehe.

Anyway, I’ll see you in a few hours, Ma Belle. Stay safe at work and text me! I love you!

Love, Vernon

You felt the warmth creep up in your chest as you grinned, rereading the letter again. Although this made you incredibly happy, you couldn’t help but think about what you could do better for Vernon in this relationship. You never want him to feel as if he was the only one putting effort.

After making a quick decision, you put the letter back in the envelope and brought it to your room, placing it in an empty slot of the photobook. You went back out to the kitchen and heated up the pancakes Vernon had mentioned, deciding that you will make a small trip to the store after having breakfast.

~

Unknowingly, you walked down the same path Vernon had the day he went out with his friends secretly without telling you. You passed multiple stores as you racked your brain for some sort of idea on what to get him. You already had your anniversary gift planned out for him, but that’s a secret that you have been keeping from him since day one. You just hope he doesn’t go searching for the photobook.

You walked slowly, glancing into stores to get some sort of idea before stopping in front of a jewelry store. You hesitated knowing that Vernon never wanted you to spend so much money on him, but look at where you are. You decide to tell him it’s an anniversary gift instead of just giving it to him tonight so that way he wouldn’t get mad at you. Yeah, that’s a better plan.

As you enter the store, your eyes immediately go to the locked glass cases of beautiful jewelry. Maybe you should’ve thought this through because you had no idea what to get him. Looks like guessing is the best bet for you.

//

You made it home from work just before Vernon got home. Quickly, you went to your room and took the box out of the bag and placed it behind the photobook. You disposed of the bag, making sure that Vernon wouldn’t spot any evidence of the fact that you spent a lot of money on him.

You were now in the kitchen, looking to prepare something for dinner before the front door opened with your boyfriend coming in with bags in his hand. You smiled and quickly met him at the door, grabbing a few bags before kissing his cheek.

“You bought dinner? I was planning to make something for you.” He smiled warmly and led you to the dining room, placing the bags on the table. He quickly kissed your cheek before holding one of your hands.

“Ma Belle~” The teasing sound of his voice echoed in your ears as you smiled widely, shying away a bit before you felt the tips of his fingers move your head to face his again, “You don’t have to cook for me tonight. Let’s just relax and enjoy the food I bought, how does that sound?” You stared into his hypnotizing eyes, the warmth in your chest rising as you nodded your head with a smile.

“Okay! Let's get some plates!”

//

You woke up to an empty bed, confused as to why Vernon wasn’t next to you. Sitting up straight, you looked at your night stand, searching for the familiar post-it note or envelope. You thought that maybe it was something similar to the letter 5 days ago where you found it taped to the fridge.

You stretched out your arms, yawning in the process as you heard your phone buzz on the table. Unplugging it, you opened your messages and spotted a familiar name. Boo Seungkwan.

‘You home?’ You didn’t know why he was texting you at this time, he was usually asleep. And he knows that it’s your anniversary with Vernon today, so you were confused as to why he was asking if you were home.

‘No. I’m with Vernon.’ Obviously you lied to try and get out of any sort of event he may have planned just so you can eat a small breakfast and get ready for the day. You just have to find Vernon’s note.

‘Bullshit. I’m with Vernon right now.’ Your eyes widened, a scowl appearing on your face as you questioned why Vernon was with Seungkwan instead of you. ‘Why are you with Vernon? Where are you guys?’

On the other side of the phone, Seungkwan was panicking. He knew that you weren’t with Vernon because Vernon was with Joshua setting up everything for your anniversary.

He looked around the room, thinking of an answer to come up with before Chan walked in, “Seungkwan? What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be distracting them for Vernon?” He tossed his phone to the younger, eyes filled with fear and uneasiness. Chan read the messages and laughed, “Vernon will kill you if you don’t pull this off. Good luck!” Seungkwan groaned as he decided to just show up at your home and keep you occupied.

You stared at the messages, expecting him to answer but received nothing. You sighed and just locked your phone, mind now set on looking for the letter. Every step you took to look into a room, your fingers were crossed in hopes that you would find any sort of evidence that Vernon has left for you. Plopping onto the couch, you thought that maybe he just forgot to write today, but it didn’t make sense since he wrote everyday for a whole year without forgetting. Even in previous letters, he would count down the days until it was your anniversary. It just didn’t make any sense.

You heard the doorbell ring, an ounce of hope in your heart as you thought that it could be Vernon. He has a key to the house. You sighed and got up from the couch as you went to the front door, unlocking it with a click and opening it.

Your eyes met Seungkwan’s and it immediately turned into a glare. “I thought you were with Vernon, hm?” He grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck.

“I lied.”

“I can see that.” You stepped to the side, making way for him to enter your house. You watched him sit on the couch as you closed the door and locked it. “What are you doing here, Seungkwan?”

“Uhm— Did you eat breakfast?” You saw his hands wipe down against his jeans, a nervous habit he had that you picked up on throughout your years of friendship.

“No I didn’t. And you avoided my question—”

“You haven’t eaten?” He stood up abruptly, determined to keep you distracted until lunch time, “Come on, lets cook some breakfast for you!” He turned towards the kitchen with you following closely after him after rolling your eyes and just letting it slide, thinking that maybe Vernon put him up to this.

//

Seungkwan sighed in content after finishing up his food, his eyes moving to meet your hard ones. “Seungkwan,” His eyes went to look around the room, just as long as they weren’t at you, “Seungkwan, stop avoiding eye contact.” He looked back at you, his lips pursed and throat feeling dry. “I have so many questions, but I won’t even bother at this point.” You shook your head and took your plate and his, bringing it to the sink and began to wash them.

As you were washing, you heard your name fall from his lips, “I can wash them, you have to go get ready.” Your head shot up, eyes looking to the side but your head staying in place.

“Get ready how? Where are we going?”

Seungkwan got up from his seat and stood next to you, “Don’t play dumb. Do you want your letter or not?” Your eyes lit up, nodding as you turned off the water and quickly went into your room to wash up and get ready.

“Thank you Seungkwan!”

//

You sat in the car with the radio gently playing in the background. A comfortable silence fell upon you and Seungkwan, who was in the driver's seat. You remembered to bring your gift as you looked at the large bag sitting on the floor between your legs. You checked the time on your phone, seeing that it was almost lunch.

“Wow, if Vernon planned a lunch, I’m glad you ate most of the breakfast food.” You out the window, giggling with Seungkwan.

“That was the whole point of me eating all the food. I had to keep you busy for a few more hours.”

You sighed and nodded your head in understanding, turning your head to look at the side of his face, “Where are we headed to anyway?”

He glanced away from the road to look at you for a split second before lifting up his hand, his pointer finger placed on his lips as he made a ‘shh’ sound. “It’s a secret.”

“Well can you tell me if it’s far? I kind of want to take a nap.”

“Go for it, but don’t get mad when I wake you up.”

//

Your eyes fluttered, feeling the cool breeze against your skin as goosebumps rose. You opened your eyes, seeing your boyfriend standing next to you with the car door open. He flashed his gummy smile, holding his hand out for you to take, “Ma Belle~”

You looked down at the floor as you placed your hand in his, stepping out of the car with your bag and present in hand. “Where have you been Vernon Chwe?”

You smiled cheekily at him to which he shrugged with a teasing smile, “I’ve been doing things.”

You began to smile, looking at your interlocked fingers as he led you to a familiar area. You scanned the place, seeing the light of the sun reflect off the little lake that you knew all too well. Your hand tightened in his grasp causing him to stop walking and to turn to look at you, “What’s wrong?” You pouted, puppy eyes boring into his as he smiled softly.

“You took me here? I thought this place became private property and people weren’t allowed to be here.” He laughed softly and brought up his hand, placing his pointer finger against his lips.

“Shhh, we’re not.” Your eyes widened as you hit him with your bag and he laughed, “I’m kidding, I talked to the owner and they were fine with it, come on, let’s go.”

He brought you over to a picnic setup, the tall tree providing you shade that can cool your down from the scorching sun. You both sat down on the blanket, looking out to the lake with the mini table in between. You sighed in content, your eyes never leaving the shining lake, “Vernon this is incredible. I’m so happy you were able to get us in here.” You looked over at your boyfriend, a smirk on his face as he held up the missing letter.

“I know you’ve been wondering where the final letter was but I don’t know if I want to give it to you just yet.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “You have to eat with me first and then I’ll give you the letter, okay?” You smiled and nodded your head happily, the thought of what could possibly be in the letter consumes your mind.

//

You finished your food with a toss of your napkin to the plate, your eyes immediately going to Vernon who was laughing softly. “I know what you’re going to ask, but first let me open my gift, please?” He pouted in which you rolled your eyes in response.

“Fine.”

You handed over the bag, biting your lip out of a nervous habit, watching him take out the tissue paper and spotting the box and photobook. He took out the photobook, looking at you with an unsure expression before opening it. Raising his eyebrows, he found every note he has written to you, and next to it is a note you have written in response.

He took a deep breath, flipping through all the pages, trying to be as slow as possible just to tease you, but no luck, “Vernon you can read it at home.” You whined next to him as he slightly glared at you,

“Hey, I just want to appreciate you.” Still, he listened and put the photobook back in the bag and then took out the box. He opened the top carefully and stared at the piece of jewelry laying inside.

He head lolled to look at you, another pout on his lips, “I told you not to buy me anything expensive.”

You giggled and nodded your head towards the bracelet, “Dig a little deeper Vernon,” He rolled his eyes at your remark of quoting the song before taking out the chain. He turned the small heart-shaped charm over and found your name next to the words ‘Your Evangeline’ engraved in it.

His grip on the chain loosened as he handed it to you, holding out his arm, “Put it on for me?” Quickly you wrapped it around his wrist and locked it in place, beaming with happiness. “I love this, I just— it’s beautiful.”

“Can I read the letter now?” He sighed in defeat as he failed to stall everything a little while longer.

“Way to ruin the sentimental mood.” He handed you the letter, watching you bounce in excitement as you prepared to rip it open.

“Wait! Read it up there, next to the lake. Pretend I’m not here, like how you would read any letter in the morning, okay?” You nodded standing up and scurried over to the lake, thinking about how weird it was that he asked you to read it at this spot. The thought left your mind the second your eyes scanned ‘Letter 365’. Your heart pounded in your ears as you ripped the flap open and pulled out the paper. You began to read:

Ma Belle,

Happy 7th year Anniversary! Can you believe it has been seven years we’ve been together? It feels so amazing. I’m sorry you had to read this through a letter, but I feel like writing it out conveyed my feelings better than when I just wing it. So, I hope you prepare yourself because this is going to be a ride full of cheese and cringe.

I remember our first date here. It was very cheesy and seemed too extravagant for a first date, but we have known each other for a few months before I asked you out, so I call it a success. Anyway, I’ll never forget the look on your face when you saw the little fairy lights light up just at the snap of my finger. You said it looked like fireflies and reminded you of Princess and the Frog. Anyway, getting back to the point, the point is, this little lake holds a place in my heart because it was all those months of me silently pining after you to finally be able to take you here, it made me realize that I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

Oh! Which reminds me of our first here, when we danced to the soundtrack of the movie. It’s random, I know but I don’t think you remember that. You probably won’t remember me proposing to you either, would you? Turn around Ma Belle :)

You slowly turned around, the blanket and picnic table gone, all that’s left in front of you is Vernon down on one knee holding up a small box displaying a beautiful ring. The arm holding the letter drops, your free hand coming up to slightly cover your mouth now agape. From his shaky hands to his beaming smile, the love you had for the man in front of you intensified.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, “So, do you remember now?” The water in your eyes that have been threatening to spill finally let go as you nodded your head, “Ma Belle~” That damn grin on his face made your knees shake, “Will you be my Evangeline and marry me?” Your legs collapsed, your knees hitting the grass as you hugged Vernon tightly, whispering ‘Yes’ into his ear.

The amount of love you felt in your heart took over as you cried silently against him. He pulled away, laughing softly as he wiped your tears and brought your hand up, slipping the ring onto your ring finger. “Hansol Vernon Chwe, no wonder you wanted to open my gift first.”

He shrugged, looking into your eyes with that same teary smile before leaning in and placing a soft yet meaningful kiss on your lips. In that magical moment, you knew that this is all for you; he is all for you and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[moved-19871997]

Hey, bus tip for people who don't look like the weirdo or the robber, ao probably you. I'm not 100% sure if its good enough but maybe it helps you feel more prepared. Sorry, it is long but worth it

Try to get a seat or stand against the wall or the bench, it avoids men being weird and that way you wont fall (idek if in england yall stand on the bus but it also works for subways and that kind of stuff)

If you're with a backpack, wear it in front of you or put it on top of your feet, that way is harder for people to steal you and it doesnt touch the floor, the floor is weird and sticky, dont put it on the floor

Going with a friend is always good, specially a male friend that could fight or a girl/nb that looks like they know how to hide a body (if thats not you), if you dont have that friend is okay. Always try not to pick fights you dont have to and be aware of your sorroundings, even with John Cena himself next to you

Make sure where you're going is trust worthy, this one is more about you not getting a disease, you might not even know all the diseases you can get from that... so many

For the future, I know it sound obvious, but always try to take the bus during the day/afternoon, when the sun sets it gets dangerous, specially when you're alone

Don't sleep or fully wear headphones or anything like that when you're not in a safe space, there are weirdos out there

This one is more of an extra safety that I personally like, try to text your family, a friend or someone resposible when you change environments, so if you disappear or feel ill they know where you are. I use this one more because I sometimes pass out, but also kidnappers, so...

And I know it's getting too long and this one also sounds obvious, but remember to not keep your phone out at all times, especially if it's an expensive one, you know?

Maybe research about that key thing for if you get unconfortable, like, dont put it in between your fingers so you dont hurt yourself, use a long key, that stuff, I'd suggest a knife, but maybe thats illegal and if you dont know how to use one that would make it all worst if they use it against you, so... keys

If none of your friends are available, ask a classmate, a cousin, a neighbor, your local baker or anyone you have at least the minimal trust, it might be weird, but its always scarry to go out by yourself and you'll need someone to hold your hand when they stab your ear, people are more undestandable than you expect, especially woman, wow, a girl group once walked me for a while because I was scared of a weird alley I had to go through, woman <3

Hum, hoodies? idk if the weather is good for a hoodie, but they are kinda good, idk. Anyway you should take a jacket and an umbrella in case it rains

Avoid eye contact if you're not scarry, this one is pretty meh but people get offended easily and might try to fight you

Last one, be confident, head up, sit/stand straight, dead eyes, don't look too low, just at or under eye level, and pretend you're so full of it that you're about to fight. If you're too unconfortable with someone say you'll call the police and if they dont back off call, ask for help or a place to go, if the police dont take you seriously say you think they have a gun/knife (whatever is more believeable) and dont let the weirdo hear it

Alright, I think thats enough, I hope it helps and that you actually dont need all of this, I'm not from Europe so this is more of a general thing. I'm also not a mom nor a person who regularly uses the bus, I'm just a 5ft1 girl who nowadays only goes out once in a life time and fear straight man like if I feared death and they could/wanted to kill me with a single touch

No need to answer this, just make sure to be careful, it gets easier as you get used to using the bus and learn about where in the town is safer and where not, soon you'll be able to go all by yourself like for work life and stuff

I didnt reread it, sorry for any typos, and maybe keep us (me) updated, hope the small stabbing looks good, kinda want one for myself, and have funn

Also, I know you might be unconfortable at first, but try to enjoy the "adventure" and maybe try a new restaurant or something, it's a bus trip after all, not a secret mission. Have fun <3 <3 <3

oh wow thank u so much!! genuinely this was helpful even tho a lot of it seems kinda like common sense was very comforting thank you <33

[hyuniebaby]

Focus (7)

Pairings: Baekhyun x Y/N x Junmyeon

Warnings: mentions of sex

AU: College student! Baekhyun, Professor! Junmyeon AU, college!au

A/N: I don’t proofread when I post so there might be typos 😅 I’ve been busy with work so I haven’t updated in a while~ If you’re still reading this fic, I just want to say thank you!

@coffee-prince-kyungsoo

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

You spend the next few days avoiding Baekhyun. The task was extremely hard since you were both in the same program. One time he had his Advanced Biochemistry class just before your Organic Chemistry class in the same room. When you saw him making his way out of the room, talking animatedly to Jongdae, you immediately went to hide behind Seulgi. Lucky for you, you were shorter than her. He wasn’t able to notice you but your sudden movement caught Jongdae’s eyes. He smirks but doesn’t say a word to Baekhyun. Especially not when you were trying so hard to hide.

Jongdae, being Baekhyun’s best friend and roommate, naturally knew about Baekhyun kissing you. As much as he wanted to help Baekhyun out of his misery, he didn’t want to interfere. The last time he did, it went extremely uncomfortable for him as you���ve both been seen by a professor walk out of the janitor’s closet. It ended up with him being shouted on by Baekhyun and being ignored by Baekhyun the whole night when he tried to explain what happened.

Baekhyun, on the other hand, wanted to apologize again but this time for kissing you so suddenly. He honestly doesn’t know what he was doing and why he did it. But how was he supposed to tell you that? “Y/N, I’m sorry I kissed you, I don’t know why I did it.” Uh, no. That doesn’t sound like an apology to him. So despite having seen you many times when you tried to hide from him, he only looks at you longingly and doesn’t try to talk to you just yet. Maybe you weren’t ready to hear it too, he guessed, considering you were going out of your way to avoid him. Not to mention you running after he kissed you. To him, it seems logical to give you some time to process and get over it before he tried to apologize.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You’ve been so hung up on Baekhyun’s kiss that you neglected your studying. By the time the weekend came, you rejected your friend’s invite to a party. You planned to study the whole weekend at home to catch up with all the lessons you weren’t able to read about for the past few days. You were halfway through your Organic Chemistry notes when someone rings the doorbell. “Delivery for Ms. Y/N!” You hear someone shout.

Huh, you weren’t expecting something to come today, you thought. You went to open the door only to be greeted by a bouquet of flowers. “I’m sorry but I think you have the wrong address,” you tell the delivery man. The “delivery man” lowers the bouquet to reveal his face.

“Junmyeon?” You gasped. The first thought that came to your mind was that the person in front of you wasn’t Mr. Kim today, he was your friend, Junmyeon. He ditched the smart casual outfit and only wore a hoodie and some pants.

“These are for you.” He hand you the flowers. “Can I come in? I wanted to talk to you.”

You guide him to the dining table where your laptop and notebooks were scattered.

“I’m sorry to disrupt you from studying,” Junmyeon says as he scratches the back of his neck.

You respond with a nod as you carefully placed the flowers on the table. You were still quite mad at him for leaving you high and dry the other day.

“I just wanted to say sorry for the thing that happened a few days ago...”

“Oh you mean when you didn’t allow me to cum?”

He smiles sheepishly, flustered at how blunt you were being.

You’re friends with Junmyeon even before anything sexual happened between the two of you so you were open and comfortable talking about it with him than with Baekhyun. “I mean come on, Junmyeon, I understand we all have sexual urges. It’s fine. We’re human.” You ran your fingers through your hair. “But personally I think it’s unfair that you didn’t let me cum,” you sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just — my mind got clouded when I saw your hickey. I wasn’t in the right headspace.”

You were used to having sexual affairs, it wasn’t a big deal to you. You’ve had plenty of one night stands over last year with strangers. The only thing that was weird right now was that it was Junmyeon you did it with. A friend. Your professor. So you don’t know how to proceed with this. Same as how you didn’t know how to act with Baekhyun because of what happened to the two of you between the sheets.

It even complicates things when you hear Junmyeon say those last words. He worded it as if he was jealous that you’ve been doing this act with another man. And then you remember how Baekhyun sounds exactly the same the last time you talked and he reacted the same way. How possessive, you thought.

But if they were possessive, you were greedy. You wanted to have them that way again, despite the strain in your “relationships”. You wanted them to touch you and fuck you. Your thoughts were heading in another dangerous path so you cough and try to clear your mind.

“Yeah, whatever, Junmyeon. Just don’t do it again next time.” The words flew out of your mouth before you can even comprehend what you said.

Next time? His eyes widened. Will there be a next time? He sure as hell hopes so. Your mouth was amazing and he wanted to feel you again, but in your pussy next time. This excites him.

You were flustered with what you said. But if you talked right now, you’ll be embarrassing yourself more so you remain quiet. You stare at your notes as if they were the most interesting things in the world. You were hyper aware that he was looking at you. You kept your mouth shut.

Then Junmyeon sighs. “What are you studying, princess?” You blush at the pet name.

“Organic Chemistry.” You say. “I didn’t know it was supposed to be this hard.” The sexual tension now gone as you talked about your studies. “I mean, I know some basic stuff because of the training we received for the quiz bee last year but some of these things are really hard to understand. My professor won’t even teach us properly. She makes us answer all the problem sets in the book every meeting. How can you even answer something that you haven’t learned yet?”

Junmyeon looks at you softly. “I think I can help you with that. Although, I’m not as good in Organic Chem than I am with Biology...”

Your eyes sparkled at what he said. “That’s alright! You know I need all the help I could get. I’m pretty sure you know that I need a dumbed down version of the lesson if I need to get the hang of this.”

So for the next few hours, Junmyeon helps you study. Being your tutor for over a year, he knows how to get his point across to you so it wasn’t really hard for you to understand what he was saying.

The study session was interrupted once again when you hear jingling of keys. You see your parents standing by the door and you got up from your seat so fast to hug them. “You came earlier! I thought you weren’t supposed to come back until next week.”

“We missed you, darling.” Your mom coos.

“Next week’s meeting was rescheduled so we decided to go back here. How are you sweetheart?” Your father says.

“Everything’s fine. Junmyeon’s here, he’s helping me study.”

On cue, Junmyeon shakes hands with your parents to greet them. Your parents respected Junmyeon because he tutored you for over a year and had significantly improved your grades. They knew you remained friends with him after so they weren’t bothered by the fact that you were hanging out. Your mom invites him for dinner, but Junmyeon politely declines, claiming he still had some paperworks to sign and that only dropped by to help you study. He bids everyone goodbye after a few minutes of small talk with your parents and leaves.

By dinner time, you converse with your parents, asking them about their trip and what they did. In turn, they asked you how was your first week back at school and you internally cringed at the fact that the first week of your school was troublesome. You don’t tell them that though. You just tell them that it went by pretty quickly.

When you’re done with the dishes, you resigned to your room to study again. You studied until the weekend was over. You were a slow learner so you needed to promptly start studying instead of cramming everything the day before a quiz or major exam comes up. It works for you though, you get to learn at your own pace.

The next thing you knew, it was Monday again and you had Bio class. Since you and Junmyeon made up, you were slightly less worried about going to class. The only problem was Baekhyun was there and you don’t know if you should still avoid him or if maybe you should make up with him too...

As you enter the room, you scan for any sign of Baekhyun or Sehun. You release a breath of relief when you realized they weren’t there yet. Having arrived 15 minutes earlier than the start of the class, you sit by the middle row and start plugging on your earphones. You reread the lessons you studied over the weekend.

You were interrupted when someone taps your shoulder. You remove your earphones and look up to see Sehun smirking at you. You roll your eyes at him as he sits beside you.

“Is that the proper way to greet your friend?” He says.

You immediately fake a smile and use a high pitched voice, “Hi Sehun~”

Sehun frowns in disdain and shakes his head. “So... has was your talk with B?” He moves his eyebrows up and down.

“I remember making a promise to you last week? And it goes by ‘I will kill you,’ do you remember?” You smile at him.

“As I’ve said, I’d like to see you try.”

“Can I borrow your hand?” You ask him.

Sehun eyes you warily but gives his hand eventually. You smile and grab one of his fingers and start bending it backwards.

“Ow!” He shouts and snatches his hands away from you. “What a devil!”

You roll your eyes. “Stop overreacting. It wasn’t that bad!”

He raises his brow in response.

“Now that that’s all done,” you start saying, “last week he apologized to me. For — uh, reacting weirdly when he saw me and Jongdae. He explained how Jongdae wanted to ‘seek me out’ when he found out what happened between me and B. And then....”

And then Baekhyun arrives and you immediately shut your mouth. Sehun notices Baekhyun’s arrival but continues to look at you, asking you through his eyes for the rest of the story. But you don’t budge. Sehun figures that you won’t talk if Baekhyun was there so he sighs and pinches his nose in frustration. He hates it when people leave him hanging.

You didn’t expect Sehun to turn around and ask Baekhyun what happened last week. Your eyes widened. You look at Baekhyun and he looks at you. You plead with your eyes, asking him, no, begging him to not say anything to Sehun. But if anything, Baekhyun doesn’t like that Sehun still hangs around with you and that he sits beside you when it was supposed to be Baekhyun’s seat.

So out of spite, he says, “I kissed her.” at the same time that Mr. Kim comes in the classroom. Somehow, Mr. Kim heard what Baekhyun said and figured out that he was referring to you. Sehun, on the other hand, was shocked. He faced you while you buried your face in your hands.

It hasn’t been an hour since you’ve sat on your chair, but you feel like you’re so done for the week already.

[bqstqnbruin]

Paper Rings

So yes, it is 2 am and here I am just finishing this, but oh well (ignore typos, I’ll probably reread it in the morning and catch them all. Or point them out, I’m fine with that). But keep supporting the Black Lives Matter movement! If you want or need any resources I’m totally happy to help you find them! OR you have any that you wanna share, please do!

Shout out to @bandgirlsclub​ for helping me with the Instagram part, she’s the greatest and you should read all her stuff!!

This was requested and inspired by Paper Rings by Taylor Swift. I hope you like it!

____________________

March

“We’ve been here for twenty minutes and they’re already stoned out of their minds?” you say to your friend, your voice high like it does when you can’t believe the world around you. You weren’t one to smoke, and normally you didn’t care if people did, but when you didn’t know anyone around you besides your friend from work, you started to worry.

“We were late, and they live here. It’s no big deal. Like you always say, you don’t care if people do it as long as they’re safe and they don’t make you do it if you say no,” she says, going to join them. You stood off in the corner, just watching the scene unfold; you hated being the only sober one at a party, but it looks like that was going to happen tonight. 

“So you’re not one to smoke, either?” someone says, startling you.

“Oh, my god. Uh, no, clearly I’m paranoid enough as it is.” 

You both start laughing, him handing you the drink that was in his hand. You look down at the clear liquid, not sure what it is. You look back up at him, eyebrow raised, lifting the cup to your nose to see if it smelled like vodka.

“It’s just water. Something tells me you need to stay sober tonight, too.” He gestures over to your friend, whos already giggling like nobody’s business. Apparently, you were either going to be staying over at whoever’s place this was, or you were going to have to get her home. 

“Are you the babysitter tonight?” you ask.

He nods his head, his curls bouncing as he does, “That and I have to be up early tomorrow and something tells me that a hangover and traveling across the country isn’t the best combination.”

“You get to travel for work? I would love a job like that.” 

“Uh, yeah. What do you do?” 

You roll your eyes, exhaling. “I’m an HR rep for an insurance company. It’s so exciting,” you say with the most sarcastic tone. You didn’t hate your job, but you would give anything to do something else if the money wasn’t so good. “What do you do?”

“I play for the Avalanche.” 

You nearly spit out the water right in his face, “Like the hockey team?”

“Do you know of another Avalanche I could play for?”

“Touche.” 

You spend the rest of the night talking to Tyson, as he said his name was, while everyone around you just kept smoking whatever they had. You ended up on the balcony of the apartment, looking up at the sky, a breeze cooling you off in what was otherwise an unseasonably warm night for the end of March. 

“It’s amazing how many stars you can see considering how close we are to the city,” you say, breathing in the clean air. You couldn’t remember the last time you say the sky this clear and naturally bright. It was calming, the moon bringing out a more tranquil presence than you had expected. 

“Sometimes when we don’t stay directly in the city we’re playing in I’ll go up to the roof at night and just look up. It’s easy to get lost in the stars even when you’re down on Earth.” 

“For a hockey player, you sure have a way with words,” you tease, knocking your shoulder against him as the two of you lean on the railing of the balcony.

“And for someone in HR, you’re surprisingly likeable.”

You turn to him, not sure if you should be shocked or flattered, “How many unlikeable HR people do you know?”

“I’m basing everything off Toby from The Office.” 

“Toby was not that bad! He was just...weird.” You both laugh and launch yourselves into a debate about the TV show, talking for hours until the sun starts to come up. 

“Shit, I didn’t realize it was this late. Early?” you say, turning to look inside. Everyone was still your, your friend on the couch while the guys around her were on the floor, all asleep. 

“Yeah, but I’m guessing you don’t need to be up in,” he runs his hand through his hair, checking the time on his phone, “Fuck, I need to be with the guys in less than an hour! I have to go!” He gets up, reaching for his keys in his pocket. “It was nice meeting you, Y/N. I really do hope we can see each other again.” And just like that, he leaves.

You sit there, shocked that the night actually just happened. That was easily the best night you’ve had in a while. The last time you stayed up like that was probably the night after your high school prom, talking with your best friend and now ex-boyfriend. You want to see him again, but if he’s a professional athlete who couldn’t even get your information, then what was the point?

“Hey, babe. Do you want to go back to your place or mine?” You practically jump out of the chair that you had been sitting in, falling asleep after finding Tyson on Instagram and following him. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. 

“Wanna get food first? I was promised dinner last night and ended up drinking a lot of water instead,” you say, checking your phone. 

Tyson Jost (josty17) started following you.

“Sure. The dinner down the street from work?” she suggests, pulling you up out of the chair, going back inside. 

As you’re careful not to step on anyone who’s still asleep on the floor, your phone dings with another notification from Instagram: josty17 sent you a message.

“I’m down.”

June

Four. Four books was all he had on his nightstand, and all he seemed to have in his entire apartment. “We need a trip to Barnes and Noble or something, you need more stuff to read for me,” you whine, picking up one of the books you’ve already read twice since starting to date Tyson. You were lying on your back in his bed, holding the book up over your face and praying that you don’t drop it on yourself.

“Am I supposed to buy books for you?” he asks, flipping through the channels to find something to watch.

“Well, no, you could buy books for yourself and then I’ll read them once you’re done.”

“I don’t really read that much.”

“But reading’s fun!” you say as he looks at you, his eyebrow raised. “Oh, stop that, you just need to find the right book.” 

“And I’m assuming you have a list of books that you want me to get?” he teases, jabbing his hand into your side to tickle you.

“Yes, stop that!” you let out, not hiding your laughter but almost kicking him in the face in the meantime out of reflex, “Fiction or nonfiction?”

“You’re gonna tell me both, aren’t you?” He looks at you, smiling as you nod your head. Rolling his eyes, he says, “Go ahead.”

“Well I personally love Educated by Tara Westover, Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison, Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston-”

“Woah there,” he cuts you off, putting his hand over your mouth to get you to stop talking, “I need more than just titles here if I’m gonna buy them. You don’t judge a book by it’s cover.”

“Gross, cliches. But you actually want to hear me sit here and talk about the books I like?”

“You’re cute when you talk about things you’re passionate about, and you hate your job so it doesn’t happen often.” 

“Two cliches in like five minutes? That’s gotta be a new record for you, Josty.”

You both start laughing as he turns his attention back to his TV, finally picking a channel to settle on before turning back to you. “I know it’s only been a few months, but I think I’m falling in love with you.”

You can’t help but smile at his third cliche. Third time really is the charm. “So,” you kiss his cheek, pulling away before he can turn and kiss you more, “Invisible Man is about an unnamed narrator; he’s a black man living in America before the Civil Rights movement, and it’s about how he feels as a black man in white America.” You spend the rest of the night telling him about all your favorite books, him nodding along and smiling as you don’t shut up, knowing that he won’t remember any of the book titles that you told him.

He just loved the way you got excited over stuff like this. 

January

“I feel like two gallons of paint is a lot for one room,” Tyson says, handing you the blue paint your brother asked you to pick up. He grabs the rest of the supplies from the back seat of your car to lug up to your brother’s new place. He bought it as his first home with his new wife and asked you to help them paint it. It was getting you a free dinner, so why not?

“We’re only doing his bedroom today and apparently two gallons is enough for a standard-sized room, whatever that means.” You walk up the path to his new house. It was the first time you had seen it, so you were excited to go in even though you knew everything was covered in tarps and plastic.

“My little sister!” Tommy yells as soon as you approach the door. You didn’t even have the chance to knock, him startling you and causing you to almost drop the cans of paint right on his porch.

“Hey, jackass,” you say, bitter that he scared you.

“And you must be Tyson,” Tommy says, taking some of the supplies from him and leading you into the house. 

“Uh, yeah, nice to meet, you,” he responds, clearly a little confused by the ‘jackass’ greeting. You might have forgotten some details about yours and your brother’s relationship on the drive over. It was the one where insults like jackass and dumb shit were terms of endearment. 

“Shit, bub, you have a nice place!” you look around, admiring it. “Erica must have been so happy when you found this.” 

“She was ecstatic. She was even happier when you agreed to help paint for the price of some dinner.” 

“Painting is calming and food tastes even better when it’s free, how can I say no?” 

He opens the door to the room at the end of the hall. “This is the master. Do you guys want to paint here while Erica and I finish the guest room and work on the living room?” 

“Yeah, works for us,” Tyson answers for you. 

Tommy leaves the two of you alone to start painting the entire room. You open the can of paint, revealing a light blue paint. 

“Remember that night last month when one of the guys dared us to jump in the pool?” you ask Tyson as he pours the paint into the tray.

“Yeah, why?”

“This is the color of blue that I thought we were going to turn if we stayed in the water any longer.”

“Ya know, you’re the only girl I’ve dated that would complain about being in the water with such a hot guy,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, so you’ve dated actual psychopaths?” You joke, rolling the first coat of paint on the wall. 

“I’ve only dated one psychopath, and that’s you. But everyone’s a little crazy, most people just call it unique.” 

“Can I ask you how many girls you’ve actually dated?”

“You can ask but do I have to answer?” he says, your backs facing each other as you paint opposite walls.

“Please? I’ll tell you mine. Oh come on, what couple doesn’t talk about their old relationships?”

“Healthy ones?”

“Tys.”

“Fine. I’ve been in three serious relationships, or I guess relationships lasting more than four months, not including ours, and one really serious relationship.”

“What’s the difference between the serious ones and the really serious one?”

“Wait, no. Your count and then I’ll tell you.”

You roll your eyes knowing that he can’t see you, letting out a sigh. “A boyfriend in highschool and one in college. Now you.” 

“No way,” he says, turning towards you to get more paint. 

“What do you mean? I’m not the type to date around. If I’m going to date the guy I want to make sure it has potential for something that’s more than a fling.”

“Well, how can you grow as a person if you don’t give other people a chance? Isn’t it an important part of life to get hurt sometimes?”

“I’m not saying I’ve never gotten hurt before, I just wasn’t in a relationship when I did.” 

“How does that work?”

“I thought this was I ask, you answer, you ask, I answer?” you ask, whipping around. Tyson was already facing you when the excess paint comes flying off your roller and splatters across Tyson’s face and chest. “I am so sorry!” 

He gets a mischievous look on his face as he dips his hand in the can of paint, “No, no, no!” you screech as he splatters you with paint. The two of you start throwing paint at each other, at one point Tyson grabbing you by the face right after he put his hands in the can. 

You’ve wasted half a can of paint on each other when Tommy comes knocking on the door, “What the hell are you two doing? Is this some sort of kinky sex thing?”

You scream, grabbing onto Tyson out of reflex, “That is not something I would talk about with you, and no! Go back to your wife!” Tommy just shrugs and leaves, closing the door slowly behind him. “Was this a fight?” you ask Tyson once you hear your brother go down the stairs.

“Maybe? We can say yes. What kind of couple doesn’t fit?”

“Weird ones,” you say, both of you laughing as your dripping with paint. 

“I love you,” he says, “And I want to kiss you, but I don’t think the paint would taste good.”

“I love you, too. But yeah, no. Please don’t eat the paint.” 

December

“Why are you giving me the cold shoulder all of a sudden?” Tyson asks, walking hand in hand with you through the streets of Denver. 

You stop and pull him aside, “I don’t think you understand what the cold shoulder is.” 

“It’s when someone is intentionally unfriendly.” 

“Am I being unfriendly”?

“You haven’t talked to me since we left the restaurant.” 

“I’ve been thinking!” you defend yourself. When you get deep in thought, you sort of shut down from the world around you. You still move about like a normal person, but the interaction between you and other people is minimal. 

“Thinking about what?” He lifts your chin, trying to get you to look at him. You bite your bottom lip. He knows you’re thinking about something that’s bothering you.

“How long is this going to last since you’re always going to practice and traveling?” 

Since that night you met, you had been talking nonstop. You feel hard and fast for this boy who was never home at the start of whatever relationship you had with him. Once his season was over, he started taking you out on dates; the two of you probably went on actual dates at least twice a week, and hung out the other five nights at your apartment, his apartment, or at whatever party one of you had been invited to. He was your boyfriend in every sense of the word, but would that end once the season starts. 

“What do you want to happen?” he says, smiling, pulling you closer to him.

“Well, I like what we have. I don’t want it to end.” 

“I wasn’t planning on ending it, where you?”

“No.” 

“Then why worry?”

“I mean, do you want this last?”

“Of course I do. Come on.” He puts his arm around your shoulder, leading you down the street. He takes you into a Target, “Whatever you want, I will buy you.” 

“That’s dangerous, bud. You know what I’m like in Target,” you tell him as he steers you towards the jewelry department. 

“What about this?” he says holding up a ring.

“Is that just a ring, or is that a promise ring?”

“What do you want it to be?” 

“It’s going to be nothing if you don’t start making decisions!” You both start laughing as he slips the ring onto your right ring finger. 

“I like a promise ring.” 

“Wait, actually,” you say, taking the ring off and grabbing Tyson’s hand, “Come with me.”

You lead him to the party section of the store, down the aisle with all the tissue paper. “Pick a color.”

He looks at all the options, the solid colors, striped pastels, polka dots, rainbow, scalloped paper. “I like the red.”

“No. Green,” you ignore him, picking up the package of green tissue paper and pulling him down on the floor to sit with you.

“Then why did you ask?” he cries as you tear open the package, “Um, isn’t this stealing?” 

“No, you’re gonna pay for this. What you’ve never opened a bag of chips and snacked while shopping before?” He laughs at you as you start folding the paper into strips. You reach for his right hand, wrapping and folding the paper so that it stays on his ring finger. You do the same thing for yourself, holding your hand up to admire it.

“What is this?” he asks, smiling, shifting his gaze between the ring and you.

“Paper rings. I like these better. I don’t need something flashy from you to prove that you want to stay with me,” you say as he pulls you up off the floor, pulling you into a hug, “Plus $1.59 is a lot less of a financial burden than any ring that I probably wouldn’t wear.” 

“I love it,” he says, kissing the top of your head as you walk to the register to buy your rings. 

September, three years later

“Happy anniversary, babe,” you say, hugging Tyson from behind and kissing him on the cheek as he sits at the kitchen table, the dinner he made sitting in front of him.

“Happy anniversary, my beautiful wife.”

“Can you believe we’ve already been married for a year?”

“And yet it feels like I’ve known you forever.” 

You start laughing, nearly spitting out the wine that you were drinking. “There’s that cliche crap I love from you.” 

“Do we want to do presents now or after we finish eating?”

“That depends: is the gift something that actually can be given right now before the food gets cold?”

He stops for a moment before realizing what you mean, “One of them yes, the other is definitely in the bedroom.” He puts a large box on the table, wrapped neatly with a bow.

“I have to go get yours, wait!” you say, running down the hall to the closet where you were keeping his.

“Open yours first!”

You take off the bow, ripping through the paper. Inside the box are a bunch of books: Their Eyes Were Watching God, Educated, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, The Blind Side, and Native Son. “Are these all the books that I suggested to you years ago?”

“Some of them, yeah. The others I actually got and have been reading on the road using the Kindle App on my phone. Who would have thought books were good?”

“You sound like an idiot. But I love this! I can’t believe you remembered!” You get up and kiss him, shoving the gift you got him in his face. “Now it’s your turn!”

He opens the bag, his face lighting up when he sees what it is. Last season, the Avalanche won the division, winning the Campbell trophy. You and some of the other wives and girlfriends were allowed on the ice, you jumping into Tyson’s arms as he lifted you up and kissed you. Someone got a series of pictures of that night, and you got them framed for him. “Babe. I love this.” 

“I think we set the bar too high for anniversary gifts,” you say as he kisses your cheek. 

“Yeah, next year I’m just going to sleep with you.”

“Tyson!” you squeal, throwing a piece of lettuce at him from the bowl of salad that was in front of you. “That’s so crude!”

“Yeah, maybe. But I have one more gift for you tonight.” 

He puts a small box on the table in front of you. “What is this?”

“Well, open it!” 

You shake your head, smiling at how eager he was. What could it be? Inside the box are two green pieces of paper. “Are these the paper rings we made at Target? You kept these?”

“Yeah. You said that you didn’t need jewelry to know that we were going to stay together. That was the night I knew you were the one, craziness and all.”

You can’t help but start crying over how sweet that was. You couldn’t believe he had kept something like two pieces of tissue paper. How many people can say paper rings were a symbol of their relationship?

[itsilvermorny]

Blue is the Warmest Color || Obi Wan Kenobi x reader

Hello everyone! Today I was hit with a wave of inspiration and decided to write something for my favorite Jedi, Obi Wan Kenobi. I’m a huge star wars fan and avid reader of Obi Wan fanfiction, but only now I had the guts to actually post something, so please be gentle :)

(I reread this over 100 times, but I’m sure there’s still some typos somewhere so ignore that.)

Let me know what you think?

______________________________________________________________

It’s been a long time coming – that feeling of being home, the warmth of his heavy wool robes on her cheek, being engulfed by his scent. It’s probably what she had missed the most if she’s honest with herself, the way his spicy, wooden smell surrounded her every time he was near. Always a comfort, always a taunt – it would make her insides curl in the best way, yearning to be in his arms in the worst possible moments, with her face resting against his neck, where his skin is soft and warm, and where she could feel his heart beat slightly increase upon placing a soft kiss on his Adam’s apple. It was her favourite place to kiss, right after the moles on his forehead and underneath his right eye, because she was guaranteed to earn back a shiver.

He loved it just as much (if not more) as her, she knew.

He had once confessed how the feeling of being wanted and loved was foreign to him still, how sometimes he inadvertently pinched his thigh, not quite believing the look in her eyes was directed at him.

The Jedi life was a life of solitude, and as such it’s expected of him to find comfort in the Force, not on the valley between her breasts, where he was certain to fall into a slumber, lulled by her even breaths, warm skin and the feeling of her fingers combing through his hair. And so, he loved when he felt her sponge a kiss on that spot on his neck, because it reminded him how she was his as much as he was hers, and he loved how she kissed the birthmarks on his face, as he knew it was her way of telling him she would always worry for him, care for him, and think of him when he was away on missions, willing him to come back home safely, to her.

Often when his assignments turned out unexpectedly sour he would think back and let himself remember the feel of her, of her kisses and the sweet nothings she loved to whisper on his ear – she was very vocal, always making sure to tell him how precious he was, how good, and how valued, even after being together for almost a year she knew of his insecurities and never failed to battle them away in any way she could.

And so, to finally be back in Coruscant, after what was supposed to have been a simple extraction, but turned out to be a gruesome four days of torture, after being made a slave, he could finally breathe again. Rushed to the medical facilities after collapsing on the tarmac (much to his chagrin, as General Kenobi never wished to be seen as vulnerable), he was now laid on his stomach on a cold bed, a medical droid fussing over the whip imprints on his back and Ashoka crouched near his head, willing him to keep his eyes open. Not one for sentimentality, he would seldom voice out loud how much he cared for his grandpadawan, as much as his own apprentice, but at that moment he would wish for nothing more than her silence, as her tries to gather details on what had happened during his mission were only reminding him of the crack of the whip, the insults and the cold dungeon he had been kept on.

“Ashoka, please”, was all he could mutter, as his strength failed him and he fought to keep his eyes open – with his malnourishment and the state of shock his body was under, it wasn’t advisable to fall asleep, he knew, before the doctors finished their examination, lest his body give into a comatose state.

Obi Wan willed he droids to assess his wounds faster, so he could finally be treated and then give his body the rest it so desperately needed, as it was getting increasingly harder to fight the weight on his eyelids. His prayers were answered when the door opened and in hurriedly strolled his padawan, followed by none other than the person he most ached to see, even if he could feel his heart constricting at the thought of her seeing him in such a mangled condition. He should have guessed, really, that she would be the one responsible for tending to him, not only due to her control of the force and ability to heal through it, but also because of the unspoken understanding between him and Anakin, and the nights both Jedi would each seek shelter in the arms of the ones they loved – something they never openly spoke about, but nonetheless acknowledged. Her being brought to him was surely Anakin’s doing.

He couldn’t not keep his eyes open then, he couldn’t not let himself get his fill of her, of how she had her hair in a tidy up do, the way she always insisted on having whilst working, on how her mismatched eyes quickly swept over his whole body, inquisitive, assessing all the damage he had suffered, and finally lingering on his back, on the gashes of raw flesh he knew were there – the beautiful, unique eyes he loved so much, now filled with worry and sadness. He was suddenly hit by the realisation of the scars he would undoubtedly have once his back healed, would it affect the way she saw him? Would she still want him? Desire him, touch him? He closed his eyes then, swallowing the bile that had risen on his throat, he couldn’t let himself think about that then, or his body would surely give in.

Efficient as ever, she started instructing the two other droids to make a concoction that would help close his wounds faster and dull the pain he was feeling. Anakin had pulled Ashoka aside, leading her away from his bed and out of the room, to make way for the doctors. He knew his master better than Obi Wan liked to admit, and knew he was bound to be feeling exposed, vulnerable and, most of all, embarrassed (stupidly, if anyone asked him). Obi Wan was one of the most respected and well regarded Jedi and even had recently been invited to become a part of the Council, and thus Anakin knew letting the people he was responsible for protecting seeing him broken was only adding a burden to his master’s worn down shoulders.

Soon it was just them both in the room. No words had been exchanged yet, but then again, one was too immersed battling his dark thoughts, and the other didn’t think anything could be said to erase the last four days of pain from his mind, as she desperately wished to do. So she resorted to do her job as best she could, and, closing her eyes, she hovered her hands over his body, one over his auburn hair and the other over the bottom of his spine, untouching, letting the Force guide her through is injuries, first the superficial, then the internal ones.

It was a relief to see he had not sustained any internal bleeding, as she had initially thought from the purple bruises he was sporting on his sides and arms. The lacerations on his back would take a few weeks to close properly and his body required a few days of bed rest, as well as full meals to restore its energy, but Obi Wan would be fine. She couldn’t hold in a sigh anymore, as the weight she had on her chest ever since she had learnt of his captivity finally lifted. Her Obi Wan was back, and he would be fine. Stars, her knees almost buckled at the realisation.

Hearing her reaction, he slightly craned his neck to better see her face. His mouth was dry, but he still licked his lips to speak, “Hi”. His voice sounded foreign to him, rough and deeper than it usually was, he had barely spoken a word since his extraction. She looked at him and softly smiled, her eyes shining with tears as the adrenaline of tending to him started to subside. “Don’t cry”, his voice sounded again, and, instincts kicking, he tried to lift himself on the mattress. His body protested immediately, and he sagged back down, taking a deep breath in as he fought through the tremors caused by the sudden effort.

She was at his bedside at once, seeing how the medicine the droids had applied had yet to kick in, and getting a tiny neon green pill from a bottle, she made him take it with some water. Her dearest Obi Wan, who even barely able to move, still couldn’t bare to see his people suffer. She threaded her fingers in the hair flopped over his forehead and kneeled at his bedside to be at his eye level. He was blinking slowly, the weariness and exhaustion he felt clear on his eyes, “You can rest now, Obi Wan. You suffered no internal damage. You’re home, you’re safe”, she willed her voice to come out strong to try and provide him with the assurance she imagined he needed, but he wasn’t having it. He slowly lifted his right arm from the bed and grasped the hand she had rested next to his head. They had a strong bond, stronger than he thought possible for two people to have, least of all Jedi. He knew he was breaking his oath by giving in to his feelings for her, but after their first meetings, when he came to realize how connected they were – not just their bodies, but their souls -, he couldn’t deny it, them, any longer.

The first time they met had been during the Clone Wars, as she had been a part of their medical team. But after the war, as time went on, they kept crossing paths, randomly and repeatedly, as if the Force were driving them to know each other. He started to be able to clearly see her force signature, then feel it, as well as her presence, and even share her emotions, and he knew from his padawan days that even the Jedi who decided to dedicate themselves to medicine had to complete the Jedi training in its entirety, which meant she knew how to protect and close her mind. They found themselves intertwined though, as they had gotten closer, and who was he to contest a wish from the Force?

She rested her head on their joined hands, faces so close her nose almost touched his cheek. “You need sleep”, she whispered softly, “I’ll stay if you’d like me to.” There was nothing that would be able to drag her away from him, she knew.

He nodded slowly; his eyes fixed on hers. They had always been one of his favourite features, because he had never seen nothing like it before, not even on his adventures with his late master, who had made sure to teach him all there was to know about each species that inhabited the planets they visited. She was human, like him, quite ordinary as well, in juxtaposition to the multitude of species in Coruscant, except for her eyes – one was blue, clear as the water of the rivers in Naboo, and the other was a soft lilac, the same shade the sky of Tatooine would adopt in the dusk. Her eyes that told him so much, even when she wished to guard herself and her thoughts – he could always read her (as he knew she could always read him) because there were no reservations between them.

So, he saw, deep into her mind, her love and care for him, the worry she had felt in his absence painted in the circles beneath her eyes. He felt her force signature, a soft, mint green, enveloping his body, providing him with the comfort he craved, like a breath of fresh air consuming his being and washing his body into a deep sense of calm.

And when she softly left a lingering kiss on the mole beneath his right eye, he knew he was safe and that she would love him back to health.

[louiserandom]

Play Games with Me

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara | Rating: E

A/N: Commission for the amazing @rookie-d​💙💗 thank you so much! *hugs* 

Read on AO3 or continue under the cut :3 Ko-fi and fic commission info in the header!

Tobirama SenJERK has never had sex in his life, Madara types, as always brimming with spite when it comes to his least favorite person in town. Maybe on the planet.

Rereading the comment and satisfied that there aren’t any typos or any hint whatsoever at some kind of hidden affection (which isn’t there, never was and never will be, Madara reminds himself firmly), he hits ‘Comment.’

“Take that, you dumbass,” Madara mutters under his breath, and really, this could be classified as childish, were he not completely in the right to take vicious revenge upon the fucking asshole who dared refer to Madara as ‘so idiotic it’s pitifully adorable’ on his last stream. Hah! Like Tobirama isn’t the less intelligent one of the two of them; Madara has watched enough of his Uncharted 4 gameplay to note that Tobirama took twelve seconds longer than him to figure out arguably the most difficult puzzle in the game. And although Madara’s sub count doesn’t quite reflect his superior intellect compared to Senju’sーnot that he’s checked in a whileーit’s likely a testament to the viewers’ total lack of taste, if anything else.

(Two thousand, nine hundred and thirty four viewer’s, to be precise, according to this morning’s stats and minus the handful of Madara’s fake accounts that he created just in case to keep up with his chief competitor. Admittedly, it might be a tad annoying.)

A notification pipes up.

Hm, I wonder how you’d know that, MaddyGamerboy? Are you stalking me? I must admit, I’m flattered.

Madara sputters at the reply. At yet another butchering of his perfectly adequate nickname. The fucking nerve of the guyーand people fucking wonder why Madara hates his guts?

(Madara knows it doesn’t really help his case that he’s touched himself to fantasies of the younger Senju more times than he’d care to count, but hate-fucking a thing isn’t it? Hate-masturbation must be too, he supposes. Not the healthiest outlet for negative feelings, but it makes him feel good enough.)

(Heavenly, to be precise.)

I AM NOT, YOU SELF-OBSESSED DUMBASS, Madara types, simultaneously taking care of the half-a-dozen typos that appear of their own accord.

No.

Deep breath. Stop fingers from shaking. Think about something witty to say.

Pff, he writes, for lack of any better word to express his indignant huff, like I give a shit about you. You’re dumb.

It did sound much better in his head, but Madara has spent over a minute writing the comment already, and he doesn’t want to appear as if he’s thinking too hard on it.

He posts his answer, not dwelling too match on the number of likes on Tobirama’s comment far outnumbering the hundred Madara’s garnered. Again, Tobirama’s audience is clearly not the best judge of character.

“FUCK. YOU. SIDEWAYS, SENJU!” Madara shouts at the reply that follows, consisting only of the words:

Thanks for the sub btw.

“You fucking piece of shit,” Madara hisses. “Like eight fucking fake accounts do anything to boost your stats, I don’t even like all your videos from each one of them, you ass!”

I DID NOT SUB DONT BELIEVE HIM

I’m happy to have another loyal fan ;)

HE IS FUCKING LYEING!!!

With seemingly every single person in the comments raving about how it’s about time MadGamer69 and admitted he admires FlyingThunderGod’s skill, Madara has to consciously restrain himself from smashing his laptop against the wall.

“You can just tell him you like him, you know.”

Madara startles, almost stumbling to the floor when Hashirama returns with their drinks and quickly put-together snacks, always the one to rummage through Madara’s kitchen because Madara hardly cares what edible and inedible things existed there or what to do with themーthat’s Izuna’s job.

“I do not,” Madara snarls, as Hashirama flops next to him on the couch, “like that stupid clusterfuck you call a brother!”

“Madara!” Hashirama whines, with that ever-present pout on his face. “Be civil.”

“Yeah, when he returns the favor,” Madara glowers, grabbing a milkshake from Hashirama’s hand. “Did you forget that he fucking started it? Do I need to quote his “pitifully adorable how so much stupidity can fit in such a short man” again?” Madara can’t help flailing his arms a little, though far too conscious of this habit now since the Tobirama has started pointing it out. He makes up for it with what he hopes is a deadly enough glare. “Did no one in your family bother to teach him manners? Did you?”

Hashirama only sighs. “And did you forget,” he asks, “how before that you abused my invitation over to our place to hide his Golden Youtube Gamer Tablet?”

Madara groans. “It’s called a Gold Play Button. Idiot.”

“Now you’re insulting me,” Hashirama grumbles, “and who cares? The point is, you’d be upset too if he hid yours.”

“Youtubers care,” Madara says, “and also, that’s irrelevant, that was revenge for him making fun of my perfectly adequate gameplay.”

“To be fair, you were dying quite a lot in that playthrough...”

“He took twelve seconds longer to figure out that puzzle in the game!” Madara growls.

Hashirama rolls his eyes. “Well, of course, because that Yellow Flash guy was flirting and distracting him in the chat.”

Madara blanches. "That good-for-nothing pipsqueak was what?”

“See,” Hashirama drawls, “you are jealous. Why would you be jealous?”

“I-I’m not!”

“Madara, you are so far in denial, that as your best friend,” Hashirama says firmly, slapping a hand over Madara’s mouth before he can muster another protest, “I cannot stand by and watch you suffer. Anymore, that is, because this has reached a breaking point. So, please, for me, I am begging you, just try politely asking if maybe Tobirama would like to accompany you for coffee somewhere tomorrow? Maybe brunch? I mean, come on, I know you guys don’t hate each other anymore. Seriously, you guys seem like you enjoy arguments, and hey, who am I to judge how people express affection?”

“Affection?!” Madara shrieks, shoving Hashirama’s hand away.

“And please stop pretending you don’t have printed out screenshots of my brother’s videos hidden under your mattress because Izunaー”

“Is a fucking snooping rat!” Madara hisses.

Hashirama sighs. “If it helps you feel better, maybe Tobirama might possibly not feel extreme dislike towards you but actually the opposite,” he says, smiling nervously as Madara blanches.

Because... what?

He blinks, running Hashirama’s words through his mind again.

“And how would you know that?” he asks, suspicious. “I swear if you dared tell him anything about my possibly nonexistent feelingsー”

“Possibly?” Excitement starts bubbling in Hashirama’s eyes. “That’s progress!”

“Definitely nonexistent feelings, dammit!”

Hashirama, the asshole Madara calls best friend for some reason, giggles. “Don’t worry, I didn’t. I promise, stop glaring or I will start pouting,” he threatens, and Madara schools his expression back into a light scowl to avoid the infamous Senju pout.

Like a curse, memories of said pout curling Tobirama’s lips spring to mind, and Madara has to physically shake his head to banish those thoughts.

“Listen, the fact that we’re not as... aggressive as we used to be,” Madara says, “doesn’t mean we suddenly like each other.”

“Madara, you insist on coming along every time we hang out,” Hashirama points out.

“I like hanging out with you.”

“Yet every time we do,” Hashirama presses on, “you’re hyperfocused on bickering with Tobirama instead of talking about wholesome stuff with me. Did you even notice that I brought Mito with me the past few times and it was literally a double date?”

“Was not!” Madara shoves at Hashirama with his shoulder and stands up to pace, because there goes the tell-tale sweating of his hands, the fluttering in his chest and stomach and the memoriesーof him and Tobirama secretly filming the other on camera when they do stupid shit, their almost daily Best Playground Insult Contest that’s been memed half to death on Twitter, the one time they got separated from Hashirama and Izuna in Disneyland because they’d got caught in their arguments so much it devolved into discussing their favorite games and an actual conversation that had Madara’s insides tingling.

No.

No, no, no. If anything, they were just gradually becoming something not unlike friends. And Madara’s occasional fantasies behind closed doors were nothing but a means to a pleasant end.

Not. Feelings.

No matter how much he’s grown attached to the site of messy, white-gray hair that he knows is soft to the touch from all the times he’s tugged on it to irritate him. No matter how piercing Tobirama’s unique red eyes may look. No matter how objectively hot his recent workout routine video wasーand Madara knows he’d only watched it so many times because he wants to improve his own routine, right?

Right?

Madara groans. “Why are emotions so fucking confusing!” He slumps onto the floor and wraps his arms around his knees, hitting his head over and over again on his kneecaps because, “I don’t even know what I want from him, okay?”

There’s a brief silence before Hashirama joins him and keeps him from abusing his head further. “How about,” Hashirama suggests, rubbing a comforting hand on his back, “you just ask? Listen, he’s my brother. And you’re my best friend. You two fighting less and at least making an effort to get to know each other better?” Hashirama brings out the puppy dog eyes. “That would mean the world for me.”

Madara glances at him before looking away again, focusing on a random photo of the wall. One featuring Tobirama right after his university graduation with a wide smile on his face. Quite the adorable face, too, and the unprompted thought makes Madara want to descend into oblivion. Preferably forever.

“That’s difficult,” he says lamely.

“But not impossible,” Hashirama says, “and hey, it’s better than waiting for the Yellow Flash guy to actually make a move on Tobi and start occupying all of his time. He’s a really big fan.”

“Fuck Minato,” Madara scoffs, “the guy just showed up and is just shamelessly emulating Tobirama’s style. That’s dumb.”

“Dumber than you claim Tobi is?” Hashirama prompts.

Madara thinks about it. “You know what? Yes.”

“As I saidーprogress!”

Madara can never go through with his impulses to punch his well-meaning best friend, and so grabs the nearest pillow from the couch and smashes it into Hashirama’s face to shut him up.

Tobirama returns home only to find Hashirama and Madara standing by the front door, frowning as they watched something that sounded like a tsunami of some kind.

“Listen, it’s gotta be one of those black holes or something twisting that vortex. Look how stuff disappears right into it!” is his brother talking, and Tobirama is already heaving a frustrated sigh.

Please don’t tell me you think there’s a black hole on Earth.

“There’s no black holes on Earth, idiot! The nearest one is way off, like near Pluto or something,” Madara says.

Ah. Even better. Tobirama chuckles under his breath, crosses his arms and leans against the wall, observing the two idiots he knows and loves.

He mentally kicks himself.

Well, one of them, he loves. Of course he loves his brother.

The other is... complicated.

“And besides, that could just be the Loch Ness monster or a cthulhu or something. See how dark the water is?”

“Or maybe,” Tobirama says, making them both jump, “it’s a natural phenomenon that’s a tad too difficult for both your brain cells to comprehend? I’m happy to explain though.”

“I’m happy to see you fuck yourself,” Madara greets him his usual way, scowling despite the exceptionally conspicuous blush painting his cheeks.

The contrast never fails to make Tobirama’s heart beat faster. He hates himself for it.

“Mm, Madara,” Tobirama teases, “not in front of my brother.”

As expected, Madara starts spluttering, and Tobirama is left wondering again how he avoids making a total fool of himself in each and every one of his videos. It seems Madara saves most of his flailing for the comment section.

“You,” Madara snarls, pointing Tobirama’s way, “are an asshole, Senju, but spending time with the better part of society might do you some good. So see you at brunch tomorrow and do not be late.”

And with that, Madara gives Hashirama a cursory wave and stalks off, leaving Tobirama frozen on the spot.

Did Madara just?..

Tobirama blinks, swallowing heavily as he feels his throat running dry and his heart rate pick up.

No fucking way.

He must have imagined it. Through his stupor of trying to figure out what the hell just took place, Tobirama vaguely registers Hashirama’s facepalm.

“Sorry for that,” Tobirama hears his brother speak through the rush in his ears. “He meant, uh, will you please join him for brunch? Tomorrow at 11 am, Eggspectation?”

Tobirama blinks harder.

“I,” he starts, “I don’t... Did you blackmail Madara into asking me out?”

Hashirama looks scandalized. “What? No!”

“Did Madara just ask me out?”

“Well, yes, Tobi.” Hashirama chuckles nervously. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

Tobirama glares. “The idiot’s wake up text to me today was literally a collection of trashy limerick poems about how much I suck. Sorry if I’m a little skeptical.”

“You,” Hashirama says, wincing as a long-suffering expression settles on his face, “you guys send wake up texts to each other?”

A moment of awkward silence hangs in the air.

“Sometimes,” Tobirama says, defensive, although the damage is already done.

“And you’re still not going out? Tobirama, you do realize he’s in love with you, right?”

“Don’t say things like that, Anija!” Tobirama snaps, hoping the dim lighting in the corridor conceals the blush he can feel heating up his cheeks. Fuck. Now he’s turning Madara. “Yet, I mean.”

“I’ll save the celebrations until after your date then!” Hashirama sing-songs like the idiot he is.

Tobirama resigns to his fate. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’ll thank me for this.”

“If it goes well,” Tobirama glowers though it’s ineffective, really, against his brother’s bubbling positivity, and the sheer awe still coursing through him from Madara asking him out on a fucking date is actually enough to make Tobirama want to hug him. He refrains. "Now, thanks, Anija, but I have work things to attend to.”

“Sure! Just don’t forget, 11ー”

“Eleven eggs and uh, no expectations, got it.”

“Wait, Tobi, noー”

With no time to waste, naturally, Tobirama bolts into their apartment and straight to his room to choose an appropriate outfit. And to mentally prepare himself for something he’s almost given up hoping for.

Tobirama cannotーwill notーmess this up.

Tobirama makes sure to arrive about ten minutes early. Not because he’s worried or nervous, of course; maybe just a little, but mostly just to get his bearings beforeーfinallyーa date with Madara goddamn Uchiha.

Madara, who’s been Tobirama’s stupid crush since high school, and just as in love with gaming as he is, only that didn’t turn out to be such a great bonding point between them, as Tobirama had hopedーbefore he actually got to know his Anija’s best friend.

Madara, who seemed to dislike Tobirama at first sight and only grew to hate him more over the years as they both found more joy in arguing than they did in talking.

Madara, who, despite this, blushes every rare time Tobirama genuinely smiles at him or drops a suggestive joke, who has an arguably unhealthy obsession with Tobirama’s ass which he always ogles when he thinks no one is looking.

Madara, whose plastered ass Tobirama had to drag home the other week, amid drunken speeches about capitalist injustice, some wacky conspiracy behind the disappearance of the dodo bird and... something quite interesting.

 “Listen, Senju,” Madara was slurring against Tobirama’s shoulder, as the latter cursed every single nonexistent god that Hashirama had chosen that fucking day to go on a road trip with Mito, Toka and Izuna, leaving Tobirama in charge of this walking trash fire of a man. “Listen. Tobira... Tobi. Tobirama. You’re so hot.”

The words almost made Tobirama stumble.

“What, Uchiha?”

“And cute... So pretty, too, I wish you could see that...” Madara went on babbling. “I think you do. But still. Wish you could see me like I do. I mean see you. Like I do...”

“Tobira, you’re just, you’re unfair...”

“I hate you and I like you then I love you and I hate you again, why you’reー” A hiccup. “How do you exist...”

“I just want to hold hands and just... walk and talk and be together and...”

Tobirama watched in ever mounting confusion as Madara leaned completely into him, humming as he hugged Tobirama tightly and said,

“Is that too fucking much to ask...”

Tobirama stood, shell-shocked, with Madara whispering impossible nonsense in his arms, wondering if he was in a dream.

 The next day saw Madara returning to his usual self insulting Tobirama at every goddamn opportunity, which left Tobirama... confused.

Confused, and conflicted, and sleepless for the rest of the night, thoughts held captive by the utter idiot whose ultimate goal seems to be to ruin Tobirama’s life.

It’s maddening.

Of course, he’d suspected that Madara’s flailing and constant blushing interspersed with screams and insults (the most creative ones, reserved only for Tobirama, it seemed) were signs of not so much dislike, as the complete opposite. Of course, Tobirama had tried flirting with Madara, just bordering right there on the edge of suggestive, only for his advances to be seen as patronizing or condescending. And hearing Madara speak to him this way, in a drunken stupor no less, when he’d probably have no causeーor abilityーto lie is...

Maddening. Annoying. Exhilarating. A tantalizing opportunity. Maybe a glimmer of hope.

And of course, Tobirama told his brother; they never really had any secrets between them. And of fucking course Hashirama had a hand in convincing Madara to change his usual behavior, which is nice and all, but doesn’t help the nerves wracking through Tobirama’s body, nor the crippling fear that he’s going to somehow screw this up.

But no. Deep breath. Exhale. And remember Anija’s advice.

Tobirama takes the last turn before he’s faced with their meeting place, surprised to find Madara already there.

Even though he’s usually always late. Sitting inside by the window, looking out onto the street with a slight frown, Madara keeps worrying his bottom lip and, apparently, trying to break a spoon.

It paints an endearing picture. Tobirama sighs, feeling a smile tugging at his lips.

This man...

Tobirama comes in, approaching him slowly, allowing himself a few moments to watch Madara needlessly fix his wild mane of hair, appraise his reflection in the spoon, try out several fake-looking smiles before settling on a scowl and going back to his nervous tics again. With another sigh, Tobirama takes the few steps left to his date, repeating Hashirama’s advice over and over in his head.

Just be yourselfーand have fun!

Just a few minutes into their date, it becomes obvious that Madara didn’t get the same advice from Hashirama.

Or just didn’t get the advice, period.

With their orders made and beverages served, they’re left to wallow in a less than comfortable silence, broken only by Madara’s... uncharacteristic attempts at conversation.

“Are you enjoying the tea?” Madara asks Tobirama with all of the softness of a brick wall.

Tobirama isn’t used to the man being eloquent, much less polite, and he has yet to have at least one conversation with Madara that doesn’t devolve into a pissing contest. So theoretically, Tobirama should be enjoying this.

But it only seems wrong. Annoying. Not them.

He tries to recall if, maybe, their first meeting was an adequate exchange? Tobirama thinks to the day Hashirama first introduced them. Only flashes of spilled milkshakes and jibes at intelligence run through his mind, and of course that was the very first time he’d called Madara an idiot pipsqueak, receiving quite the lame ‘stuck-up dandelion’ in turn.

Unsurprising.

“Yes,” Tobirama says, taking another sip as he eyes Madara struggling on the other side of the table. Struggling to do what is the question: either sit straight, or assume a more relaxed posture, or reach towards his own drink, or avoid eye contact, even though he keeps glancing his way when he thinks Tobirama won’t notice. Tobirama does, every time, and that just makes the whole ordeal more awkward. “Nice weather,” Tobirama says, with about as much enthusiasm.

If Madara wants to play this stupid game, Tobirama will indulge. Just to see how long it takes for Madara to break and return to his blustering status quo.

“Yeah...” Madara clears his throat, eye twitching as he manages to hold Tobirama’s gaze for a commendable three seconds this time. “Hate the sun. I meanーI mean I love the sun. Ugh. It just, uh. Burns.”

It’s both saddening and funny to see Madara visibly deflate.

“Skin too sensitive, huh?” Tobirama starts small. “Just like your ego?”

Madara’s jaw clenches and his nervous look shifts into a glare before he looks away again, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm himself down before he flashes an unnaturally cheery smile.

“Heh, nice,” Madara grits through his teeth, “nice joke, Senju.”

Tobirama raises his eyebrow as Madara flinches at his own words.

“I’m glad you appreciate my sense of humor,” Tobirama says, barely reining in a smirk.

“Sure! You’reーyou’re funny.”

“And?”

“And what?” Madara frowns, confused.

“And what else am I?” Tobirama demands, feigning thoughtfulness. “A recent assessment of yours was that I look and act like a self-obsessed dumbass, I think.”

“No-no,” Madara blurts out, looking much a cornered animal, “I think you... you are... you look not at all so terrible today?” he finishes with a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

Tobirama wants to scream from the agony.

No. This won’t do, otherwise he might as well leave.

“Can you just call me a stuck-up asshole like you always do or recite one of those horrible limerick disses?” he demands.

Madara actually yelps. “What? No! I mean, wait.” He narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Because you’re acting weird.”

“We’re on a date, if you were too stupーpreoccupied to get my invitation, Senju,” Madara says, jaw still clenched as he doubtless refrains from swearing, “and I’m being civil!”

That’s the advice he must have gotten from Anija, Tobirama thinks.

What a tragedy.

“Madara,” Tobirama implores, leaning his eyebrows on the table and meeting Uchiha’s gaze, “have you considered thatーI prefer it when you aren’t?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, thank fuck!” Madara slams his hands on the table, heaving a massive sigh as Tobirama laughs in relief. “I was ready to fucking die, you piece of shit! How does your brother stay so fucking kind all the time, it’s fucking torture!”

Tobirama rolls his eyes. “It’s a talent, naturally. Just like your talent at embarrassing yourself and mine at being awesome.”

“You’ve got it a little backwards, Senju,” Madara sneers, “but it’s excusable, given your level of intellect.”

“Twice as high as yours?” Tobirama parries.

“Twice as little.”

“That’s more like it,” Tobirama says, grinning despite himself, “I thought you were a decoy or something. You’ve told me to fuck off every single day since we first met and this was getting worrisome.”

Madara’s laugh is sudden, melodic, sending those irritating tingling sensations through Tobirama’s body. He makes an effort to appear outwardly calm.

“Maybe because you managed to piss me the fuck off every day that I’ve known you,” Madara scoffs, “but you’re all right sometimes. I guess.” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance even as he keeps nervously fixing and running his fingers through his hair.

A stupid, tantalizing habit. Tobirama imagines carding his own hands through the messy locks, tugging Madara’s head back toー

He forcefully aborts the thought process before he’s faced with a problem of the harder kind. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll try to strangle each other when we game together.”

“We’re playing today?” Madara asks.

Tobirama tilts his head to the side.

“You haven’t planned one gaming session after our date?”

“Um,” Madara says, blinking rapidly, “why should I be the one with the plan?”

“Because you’re the one who invited me,” Tobirama deadpans. And anyway, Madara is always the one to egg Tobirama on to gaming, which would usually only ever lead to semi-playful brawls and their fighting making Hashirama cry.

And without Anija there to assault them with his antics, Tobirama wonders what their play-fighting might lead to... and promptly shuts off those thoughts again. Control, dammit.

Madara opens his mouth, then closes it, sighs explosively and says, “All right, fair enough. But you’re the strategy pro here. And my thing is RPGs.” He smirks. “I can improvise.”

And Madara does, in fact, improvise, leading Tobirama on what he hopes is a satisfying daylong adventure. It’s strange, walking by themselves around Konoha without anyone else with them (not that they’ve taken to ignoring Hashirama and Mito anyway on their most recent group outings), free to talk about and do anything they want. Strange and perfect, the way Tobirama switches between poorly concealed bashfulness and his usual confidence, as their jokes and jibes at each other, every little prank they pull never fails to make them both laugh.

It’s perfect.

Just like Tobirama’s smile is, directed at him without any pretenses as they set off to explore the lush, gigantic forest surrounding the city, rumored to be home to mythical, many-tailed creatures. And that’s followed by their forays into an abandoned chemistry lab; the scares they get in the woods from intermittent growls coming from the shadows are nothing compared to the horror Madara feels when Tobirama insists on touching broken vials and experimental equipment, and going through doors with dilapidated ‘DANGER. CHEMICAL HAZARD’ signs.

“If we’re infected by some deadly and insidious poison,” Madara whispers as they explore the lab’s tunnels, “I’m going to fucking kill you before it does. Painfully.”

“It’s for science,” Tobirama says. “And trust me. We’re safe. I got a degree in this.”

“Youtube is practically your full-time job at this point. What the fuck else do you need?”

“The satisfaction of discovering something cool?”

“And deadly.”

"Unlikely.”

Madara groans, cursing his life, as well as his inability to say no to hisーapparentlyーnew boyfriend.

The boyfriend who’s just discovered another hidden pathway to a deeper level and has scurried off towards it like an excited five-year-old. Despite himself, despite his intent to keep complaining, Madara can’t hold back the grin tugging at his lips.

Still perfect.

Just like their lunch date which turns into a picnic by the Naka river, where Madara remembers meeting Hashirama way back when. Just like the first time Tobirama grasps his hand, fingers gently massaging it as he laughs at Madara stuttering to a stop from whatever rant he’d been on, heart in his throat and mind suddenly focused on whether his palms are too sweaty or not.

His mind goes blank. Eyes focus only on the man in front of him, whom he yearns to strangle just as often as he craves to tackle him onto any surface and ruin him completely. And it should feel wrong, it should be, only Madara hasn’t quite felt so right about anything in a long time, and with every minute they spend with their familiar bickering, just with a layer of something more behind it this time, it becomes harder and harder to deny how good being near Tobirama makes him feel. Happy. Complete.

Madara winces. Oh, gods. He’s waxing poetic now.

All worries about that fly out the window when Tobirama, without so much as a word of warning, leans in and draws Madara by his collar into a kiss.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t spring up to awaken alone in his bed like he always does, after dreams like these.

And, unsurprisingly, it turns out to be Madara’s best kiss to date.

Maybe he’s exaggerating, if just because he’s been craving this so damn much. Tobirama’s lips are hot, gentle, and welcoming against his, a curious tongue darting out to coax Madara’s lips open and deepen the kiss. The delightful drag of his tongue, his hands, rough and demanding on Madara’s chest, waist, thighsーit’s not long before he’s dizzy with it, barely holding back moans of pleasure for fear of sounding too desperate.

“Fuck,” Madara gasps as they pull away for breath, lips still touching as their eyes stay locked and he’s treated to Tobirama’s downright ravenous gaze. “That wasー”

Tobirama cuts him off with another kiss, then another, and it’s not long before they find themselves tangled in a mess of limbs and loose clothing. The hard ground presses against Madara’s back as Tobirama settles on top of him, ravaging Madara’s mouth with a passion that soon has his pants feeling too tight.

Fuck.

He groans, hips thrusting of their own accord and feeling Tobirama's own erection through the fabric.

Madara makes an immense effort to pull away, stifling a whine at the loss of contact.

“Bed,” he says, mortified at his own crudeness far too late after the word comes out. “Fuck, I meantー”

“Yes,” Tobirama growls, capturing Madara’s lips in another open-mouthed kiss before he hauls him up to start gathering their things. “Your place or mine?”

“Yours? Izuna,” Madara rasps, head too clouded to explain more in-depth, but Tobirama seems to understand.

“Anija shouldn’t be back for a while,” Tobirama says, a devastating grin on his face, “lots of time for us to play.”

Gods.

Madara scrambles to his feet fast enough to stumble, and for once, Tobirama has nothing to say about his clumsiness.

They all but crash through the front door, not even bothering to lock it as they rush through a cursory check to make sure Hashirama is out like he said he’d be.

“Fuck, thank the gods,” Tobirama sighs in relief before dragging Madara back into liplock.

Madara can’t hold back a moan this time, heat ratcheting up between them as he wraps his hands around Tobirama’s neck, pulling him closer as they stumble to the couch. Madara ends up straddling him just so that their cocks brush through too-rough clothing, kiss growing urgent and sloppy, as wandering hands touching every inch of uncovered skin.

Clothes fall away, leaving them both shirtless, and Madara needs a few moments to take in the miles of pale skin, so soft to the touch, toned muscles rippling as Tobirama squirms under him, gasps and groans escaping his lips in answer to every one of Madara’s touches. He leans in to mouth Tobirama’s neck, sucking bruising kisses onto the soft skin there pleasure flaring at the base of his stomach each time Tobirama moans and arches against him.

“You’re so sensitive,” Madara whispers, with a hint of incredulity. “That’s... fuck.”

“Yeah,” Tobirama rasps, eyes unfocused, “because... just get on with it.”

“If I knew this is what it took to finally get you to shut up,” Madara chuckles, “I would have tried this a long time ago.”

If he weren’t so sure Tobirama genuinely despised him. Butー

“I fucking wished you would!” Tobirama snaps, though the irritation rings hollow with the breathless tone.

Madara blinks in shock.

“You did?” Madara asks, moving lower to lap at Tobirama’s nipple, sucking the hardened nub into his mouth and eliciting another delicious whimper. “You thought about this? About my hands on you, touching you?”

“Yes!” The desperation in his tone only adds to Madara’s mounting confidence, one that he so rarely ever feels in Tobirama’s presence.

“My mouth on your cock,” he continues, heart hammering against his ribs as he trails kisses lower and lower, “would you like that? While I finger you, getting you ready to take me?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Tobirama’s hips jerk, making them both moan at the friction.

“Off,” Madara grunts, tugging at Tobirama’s pants with one hand as the other works the belt off his own. They scramble, a bit awkwardly, until they’re both naked and sprawled on top of each other, and Madara all but drools at the sight of Tobirama’s cock, hard and straining, beads of precum already leaking from the tip.

Perfect.

It’s tempting to just let go but Madara decides to take his time. Strokes Tobirama’s sides and chest, fingers his nipples, kisses every inch of skin he can reach, sucking bruises and biting slightly. He marvels at every little keen and groan he wrings from Tobirama, relishing how needy he grows with each second, how he moans Madara’s name, curses him and urges Madara to touch him, sliding his dick against his and huffing when Madara doesn’t do anything about it, before finally devolving into pleading.

Just what Madara’s been waiting for.

“Madara, please,” Tobirama’s whines, a soft, desperate sound that makes Madara groan in turn.

“Please what?” he asks, knowing he’s being a tease and enjoying the hell out of it.

Tobirama musters a pretty non-intimidating glare. “Just... fuck.”

“Tell me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that what you want?” Madara raises an eyebrow, making sure to wet his lips, letting his tongue gently graze the head of Tobirama’s cock. “I can bottom. I don’t mind.”

“Fuck!” Tobirama squeezes his eyes shut, heavy breathing interspersed with desperate whines. “Just... suck me off. Please. Now.”

“That’s it, Tobirama,” Madara drags out the syllables of his name, a smirk tugging at his lips, “when you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?”

He wraps his lipsーfinallyーaround the head, licking at the salty fluid gathered there, ears ringing from the heady feel of Tobirama’s cock against his mouth, his hands tangling in Madara’s hair, the sounds slipping from Tobirama’s lips that are borderline fucking obscene. Madara takes a breath to brace himself and takes Tobirama a few inches deeper. His length is hot, stiff, and heavy in his mouth as Madara presses the flat of his tongue against the underside, sucking hard, wringing another delectable whimper. Tobirama’s thrusts up, cock hitting the back of his throat, and Madara chokes for a moment, his own dick jerking at the sensation.

“Madara,” Tobirama breathes, “Madara, gods, you feel amazing.”

The words send another rush of pleasure through him, and Madara takes himself in hand to release some of the unbearable tension, stroking himself slowly as he relaxes his throat and sinks down to take Tobirama to the base.

Tobirama’s moan is a sweet, drawn-out melody. One that Madara enjoys making louder and louder as he starts moving, setting a fast-paced rhythm, uncaring for how debauched he may look, drool leaking out of his mouth and coating Tobirama’s cock, throat constricting around it as he takes him deep, lets him stay there, tongue gliding along his shaft. Tobirama soon devolves into barely coherent pleading, until ‘please’, and ‘more’, and Madara’s name are the only words coming out of his mouth.

It’s intoxicating. Overwhelming, far too much. Madara gives up stroking himself, the pleasure ramping up far too quickly, too soon, though Tobirama isn’t doing much better. Madara draws his lips up along his length, lapping up more precum gathered at the head, even as Tobirama’s hips jerk again and the hand in Madara’s hair tightens, urging him back down.

“Madara, please,” Tobirama keens, “I need...”

Madara has a pretty good idea of what he needs. He swirls his tongue over the head, descending again until his nose is pressed against Tobirama’s stomach. Madara swallows around him once, twice, a third time before he feels Tobirama nudging at his shoulder in a warning he doesn’t pay heed to, starting to bob his head again, wrapping his fingers around the base of Tobirama’s cock, using both his mouth and hand to bring him to completion.

“Fuck, Madara, Iー”

Madara lets out a muffled groan once he feels cum spilling against his tongue, swallowing rapidly as Tobirama’s cock pulses, again and again, through an orgasm that has him writhing and and trembling underneath him, hands tightening in Madara’s hair enough to hurt with the kind of tantalizing pain that only adds to the pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good,” Tobirama pants, watching Madara through white lashes, eyes dark and hazy as another shudder runs through him, “fuckーI want...”

Madara releases him with a wet pop. “Want what, Tobirama?” he whispers, voice too hoarse for him to speak properly.

Tobirama grips his shoulders in lieu of an answer, directing Madara to turn around so his back is pressed against his chest.

Then Tobirama’s hand wraps around his cock andーoh.

Madara has pretty much forgotten about his own pleasure, too focused on not coming too soon and making sure Tobirama was enjoying himself.

“My turn,” Tobirama murmurs against his ear, tone still breathless but with a commanding edge to it now that makes Madara shiver, “and lemmeーlet me hear you, Madara.”

Gods. He groans just from the sound of Tobirama’s voice. The feel of his teeth nibbling at his earlobe, his hand setting a quick, harsh rhythm that builds up the pleasure to impossible degrees. Tobirama’s heated skin pressed against his back, his thighs, the fingers of his other hand carding through his hair with a gentleness that contrasts with his harshness before.

It’s too much.

“Go on, Madara.”

Tobirama’s fingers swiping at the precome gathering at the head of Madara’s cock, smearing it over his shaft. His voice, a muffled whisper coaxing Madara to let go, to come for him, to say Tobirama’s nameー

“Just like that, Madara,” Tobirama grunts, “louder for me, come on.”

Madara thrusts into his grip, all but fucking into Tobirama’s fist at this point, moans his name as the heat grows unbearable the closer he gets to release.

“To-bi-rama...” He comes with a broken groan slipping from his lips as cum spills all over his stomach and Tobirama’s hand, each pulse coming stronger than the last, leaving him dizzy and boneless in Tobirama’s arms for however long it takes for his orgasm to abate.

Feels like forever. Probably a lot less. Time does seem to slow down, though, both of them collapsing against each other onto the cushions, breathing raggedly and curling into each other as Madara turns to bury his head in the crook of Tobirama’s neck.

It still seems unreal. Too perfect. So right.

They lie there for a minutes, coming down from the high, limbs tangled and lazy kisses exchanged here and there. Tobirama looks so peaceful, like Madara’s never seen him before: eyes half-lidded, hair messier than ever, sticking in every direction, skin still flushed and marked, all over, with hickeys and teeth marks, the mere sight of which has Madara’s dick stirring in interest, recent orgasm or no.

“You know,” Madara says, hands running over Tobirama’s chest, barely grazing his still sensitive nipples and making him shiver, “if this is the game you want to play, I’m really not against binging it. The rest of the dayーweekend, if you want.” Madara presses a kiss to Tobirama’s neck. “Make the playthrough as thorough as possible.” To his collarbone. “Unlock all achievements and, uh,” Madara trails his hand along Tobirama’s chest to his groin, past his length and to his ass, "explore every location.”

“If that was some thinly veiled euphemism,” Tobirama says, barely holding in laughter, “for you wanting to fuck me sideways...” Madara holds Tobirama’s gaze as his fingers hover just over Tobirama’s hole. “Then Madara, for fuck’s sake, stop trying to be subtle and get to work.”

Madara barks out a laugh.

“Whatever you say, Tobirama.”

Madara dips his voice low and deep, like he’s noticed Tobirama loves, and relishes the whimper it earns him. Relishes the way Tobirama arches against him, looking for friction, how delectable he looks, ready and responsive, so eager for Madara’s touch.

He knows then and there that if it’s up to him, Madara will do anything to make this last.

[anninhiliation]

Tease

A/N: So I am in an airport, and I was working on Everytime for Zab, and I had written some of this last night but rereading it, I feel like it doesnt fit. So I made it it's own seperate piece because I liked it to much to toss it to the trash! Also side note, im currently doing this all on mobile 《I'm also sick》 so I'm going to try to link everything and there might be some typos, sorry!

Masterlist

Thinking 'Bout You

The club music poured through your body as you grinded against a guy you felt a pair of eyes fixated on you. Smirking, you began to dance provocatively teasing the pair of eyes that were glued to you. Feeling the liquid courage you rubbed your ass against the guys crotch and felt it harden a bit causing you to bite your lip in excitement. Before you could turn around and offer to go back to your place, the guy was shoved out of the way by none other than Zabdiel. The stranger went to protest but he took one look at Zabdiel and walked away.

"Cariño what do you think you're doing?" Zabdiel spoke in your ear.

"Why do you care?" You hissed in his ear.

Annoyed with the loud music, Zabdiel grabbed your arm and rushed you out of the club.

"Let go!" You shouted but no one heard because of the beating bass of the music. 

The cool air felt good against your warm body, as Zabdiel pinned you against the brick wall. 

"¿Quieres decirme otra vez lo que crees que estás haciendo?"

"And I will ask again why do you care?" You scoffed, folding your arms against your chest and piercing through his brown eyes. 

"Mi vida, perdóname" Zabdiel purred as he rubbed his thumb against your cheek. 

Zabdiel knew exactly what he was doing to you, giving you his puppy dog eyes, made your knees weak. You wanted to jump his bones right outside this club.

"Fuck" You muttered to yourself as you placed your lips on his. The kiss was needy, letting Zabdiel know he won your little game. Your fingers interlaced with his golden locks as a moan escaped his lips. You felt a pool begin to form between your legs creating a stronger urgency for having Zabdiel inside you.

"Vamos carajo." You barked as you gripped Zabdiel`s hand and dragged him back to your apartment. 

The minute the door closed, Zabdiel pinned you against the wall and attacked your sweet spot behind your ear. A moan escaped your lips, and you arched your back begging for more. Zabdiel was quick to unzip your dress and push the thin straps off your shoulders. The dress quickly fell to the floor, exposing your hardened buds. Zabdiel smirked at how needy he could make you without even really touching you where you wanted him the most. You got on your knees and unbuckled his belt. Unbuttoning his pants, only soaked your core further. It had been so long since you last tasted Zabdiel. You slowly peeled his pants down, wanting to tease him back. He was quick to make a ponytail with your hair and tugged it. 

"Niña you really want to tease me así?" Zabdiel sternly questioned. 

"No sé qué estás hablando." You innocently answered as you batted your lashes. 

You let the pants fall to the ground in the same manner your dress did. You purposely left his boxers on, wanting him to feel the same need you felt. Slowly and lightly you traced his bulge with your fingertips letting the boxers soak up his pre cum. A loud groan escaped his lips as he tugged on your hair harder.

"Nena no me hagas esto o te voy a castigar." He warned.

The dominance in Zabdiel drove you crazy but you also wanted to be fucked, not edged tonight. So you obeyed, knowing he would still fuck you so good and fill your hole just the way you like it. Without warning you quickly pulled off his boxers and his member sprang out hitting his abdomen. You quickly licked up his shaft and sucked the tip. You began to bob your head, allowing your throat to re-adjust to the girth of his cock. Zabdiel was not in the mood for taking things slow so he gripped your ponytail and face fucked you. Your small soft hands immediately latched onto his thighs as your lipstick smeared all over your face and your mascara began to run. He pushed his dick so far back against your throat you swore to god you could just orgasm right there and then. 

"Te gusta hacerte mi agujero?" Zabdiel questioned as he thrusted harder into you. 

You purposefully began to swallow to further tighten around Zabdiel. His thrusts then began to become sloppy which let you know he was close. After three more thrusts the salty liquid poured down your throat. When Zabdiel pulled out, your breath became hitched. Zabdiel bent down and kissed your lips softly. 

"Vamos mi amor deja que yo te cuidó." Zabdiel purred as he helped you up. 

You wrapped your weakened legs around his abdomen and you kissed his jaw down to his neck muttering dirty things into his ear. He threw you on the bed without warning and ripped off your flimsy lace panties right off and exposed your drenched core. 

"Niña estás tan mojada tsk tsk tsk." He cooed looking into your eyes as he lightly ran his finger through your slit and licked his finger clean. 

He hovered his lips over where you needed him most. You bucked your hips in response moaning out his name. Zabdiel firmly placed your hips down as he latched himself to your sensitive nerve endings. You placed one hand in his hair and the other grasped the sheets. Zabdiel inserted two fingers inside you and began to pump. You were a moaning mess under his touch as he curled his fingers hitting your g-spot. Your walls were quick to clench against his fingers as he pumped harder. 

"Zaaaaaaabbbddddiiiieeeellllaaaahhhgghh" you moaned out. 

"Cum for me mi amor." Zabdiel purred as he moved his tongue against your nerve endings the way you like. 

With that, you released allowing the sweet ecstasy take over your body, as your eyes rolled back. Your thighs shook against Zabdiel as he rode you out and cleaned you up. He gave you no time to catch your breath as he aligned himself to you. He slowly inserted himself inside you allowing your walls to stretch around him.

"Qué apretada que sos." Zabdiel groaned as quickened the pace. 

 

Zabdiel rubbed his thumb against your sore clit and he rammed harder into you. The bedroom was filled with flesh smacking against each other and your loud moans. Your hands grasped the bedsheets once again as you felt a knot begin to form. 

"Zabdiel!" You moaned out as your walls clenched around him.

"Yo estoy cecro también. Dale niña." Zabdiel groaned as his thrusts became sloppy. 

You orgasmed again as he rode you out. In the middle of your climax, Zabdiel came inside you. Panting Zabdiel pulled out of you and laid down next to you. The two of you laid on the bed trying to catch your breathes. 

"Viene" Zabdiel whispered.

You rolled to your side and laid your head on top of his chest. 

"When we catch our breaths I'm so going to ride you." You whispered to him.

[polzkadotz]

Asas reread their fics - ftayc - part 4

And we’re back to rereading this fic!!!! last chapter i reread was the 7k monster of chapter 3, and this one... oh. Oh, this is also 7k?

wowie

if you want a spoiler to interest you, here we go lmao

we begin with this author’s note bc I don’t think I ever really talked about it here on my tumblr???

It was sort of my first time being recommended, really. I had noticed that my hit count had gone up substantially and I couldn’t understand it, but it was nice??? and then i found the post on the library and I was like Oh. I See.

Whoever it was that recommended me, thank you. Seriously.

But enough mushy-wushy, let’s tackle this giant.

We begin with this exchange, which...

I was trying to be funny and this still makes me smile so at least I amuse myself lmao

Neil needs to free himself of the plot device I pulled out of nowhere and he taps into his reserves of power that he has hid away for, basically, forever. One thing that I wish I had made more clear, which was basically the vitriol going through my mind as I wrote this fic, was that Neil had been cutting himself of his powers and how powerful he was for a fucking long time because

1) he bought into his mom’s reasoning that his father was simply Not Someone They Could Face and Win

2) he had made himself fit into a mold that would “make him survive” but, by doing so, he basically chained himself to a fraction of the three-dimensional person he used to be, which made meeting Jean and finding out that he had become a pet god for a human even worse because Neil could see all the ways they were similar but Neil had been doing that shit to himself voluntarily.

Originally, when I thought about making Neil a god in this fic, I did think about modeling him out of an existing god but also, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to make him be someone who was struggling with letting himself be what he was with his full-potential. Someone who had been cutting himself back for so long he had basically lost whatever sense of personhood he used to have. Someone who had started to get tired of cutting parts of himself and forgetting what he used to be so he would survive for--

What? Survive for what? Neil eventually realized he hadn’t been a person for too long and as long as his father was alive, he would never feel safe to be.

Now that I think about it, Neil was very much me working through my own shit about trying to live as myself at the same time that I had different versions of past me struggling with the person I was becoming. The person I wanted to be.

Anyway, back to the story.

There’s a throwaway paragraph where I sort of tease that Andrew’s dragon is becoming "hungry” and it was basically me trying very hard to foreshadow that the priest thing was going to happen lmao

After battling for two paragraphs against the thought of creating a new priest, Neil gets them back on track to go as far away as its possible for both dragons flying.

Nicky tries to get Neil to talk about the god thing, and I like how I made it clear that even being reminded that he had been a god was something conflicting to Neil.

And then we get to the part where Neil suddenly remembers that he has a lot more money than what he had previously said in the first few chapters, but who cares about plot consistency, am I right? Does it show that this fic was edited hastily? Because I can guarantee that it was :3

They stop in Mumbai, I think (the place is not important for past Asas and honestly... can’t say that’s changed lol). Nicky tries to get Neil to talk more about being immortal and stuff. Neil gives a bit of backstory, as a treat, and Kevin reveals what he knows, as a threat I guess lmao

I kind of imply that Neil only had one priest, which... I remember is not what I put in the sequel.............. so I do recommend you reread your fics before writing a new piece, wink-wink

OH MY GOD I MADE NICKY ASK WHY NEIL’S ENGLISH “WASN’T WEIRD” AND THEN I REPLIED WITH A SENTENCE THAT WAS BASICALLY STRUCTURED WITH PORTUGUESE GRAMMAR AND SOUNDS VERY WRONG IN ENGLISH

Asas... my god, Asas.

Anyway, after a lot of questioning, they eventually go to sleep and, when Neil wakes up from a nightmare, he has his daily fairy tale dose from Andrew, who’s also awake. I gotta be honest, I don’t even remember that fairy tale but it explains the Aaron, Andrew and Tilda.

After everybody wakes up from their naps, they go to their last destination: Tokyo.

Wait lemme check:

when did they leave Mumbai in my story?

when did they reach Tokyo?

yeah, that math totally checks out.

Whatever. As they arrive in Tokyo, Neil splurges even more money on a hotel for the whole crew, even though they had been pretty not nice to him as a whole lmao. But! The boy believed he was going to die, so what was he going to do with all that money?

Nothing, so he programmed an email to be sent to Andrew with the info for some of his bank accounts and fucked off to try and find what his mother had stolen.

Neil gets on a ferry that will take six hours to reach the island where is the volcano that his mother had made him hide his father’s immortality. Neil got nekkid because he wanted to have clothes when he got out of the volcano, you know?

(Also, yes, I’m gonna ignore the other time inconsistency from his travel inside Japan, I was very much pressured by the whole “got recommended on the library” okay, you can judge me through those lenses)

Unfortunately, for him, he wasn’t alone when he finally climbed out of the volcano.

Fortunately for him, this Ichirou Moriyama doesn’t want his father, who is very much interested in becoming immortal, to actually become immortal. Neil explains the whole immortality thingy (I found some typos and honestly? I shan’t fix them. It adds character) and Ichirou subtly kicks Neil’s clothes closer to him, which... I get it, my guy. It’s kind of difficult to have an intimidating conversation when someone’s bits are out and about.

As they are trying to hash out their problem -- as in, Neil’s father told them that Neil’s immortality would be viable to cure Kengo --, Andrew appears blowing his ball of flames onto both of them, and Neil uses his powers to create a pocket that repels the fire, so it doesn’t touch him or Ichirou.

(Why didn’t he use those powers on his clothes, as well? Dunno, don’t poke at my plot too much or it will definitely crumble right into your face, you’re gonna inhale too much dust and die from fandom toxicity, AND THAT’S NO WAY TO REACH A GOOD DEATH)

btw:

Neil, my dude. The dragon thought you were in danger? Chill out???

Neil rages for a few seconds but quickly turns that into a situation to ask Moriyama for his protection against his father, since Neil just technically saved his life.

Oh, and if you think “Uhhh, why would Neil even believe that Ichirou would keep his word?”

Don’t worry, I gotchu:

Ichirou agrees with the deal, for plot reasons. Since he got a deal out of it kind of easily, Neil thinks, “Wait a minute. If I give my father’s immortality to this Moriyama, literally passing the hot potato around, then the Moriyamas won’t be after me for an immortality, my father probably won’t be immortal and come after me as the death machine he used to be and I might be able to use it to free a certain god????”

So Neil uses his father’s immortality to bargain for Jean’s freedom, and he doesn’t wait for Moriyama’s response for that one. He simply hops onto dragon!Andrew’s back and they fly away into the... sunset? Sunrise? Don’t ask me, I clearly can’t keep track of the time passage in my fics.

And this is the end of the chapter!

Let me say something that I hope will be quick: this chapter felt much better written to me then the other three. It’s shaky in places, definitely, and it could’ve gone through a more severe round of editing, but I can certainly feel the positive outcomes of the pressure I felt after my work got a shout-out. This fic had been pretty much geared towards myself, so writing about the world-building wasn’t my focus at all in the other three chapters. In this one, I try to at least explain some concepts I came up with which???? Go me??????

I still wish I had taken the time to work on this entire fic to make it as close to what I had in my head, but in a comprehensive form for the attention that it got, you know? I mean, from the ashes you crawl is still my most everything -- most kudos, hits, comments, bookmarks...  It deserved so much better but also... I like that it feels rough? I like that it can clearly help to contrast the growth of my style or whatever?

It was written after a long, long writer’s block, and it only got edited and posted because I decided to participate in an event for a different fandom and it got me excited about writing again.

Anyway, I’ve talked too much. Here’s to hoping I can contain myself in the next posts lmao

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6

[cle1024]

slow dancing in the dark | bc

member: bang chan

genre: angst

summary: i told you that there’s nobody else for me, but you can’t tell me the same thing.

warnings: swearing, mentions of smoking

a/n: i recommend listening to this song while you read

The cigarette sparked brightly as you breathed in deeply under the raven moonlight. Your eyes crystallised under the moon, observing the curvature of the shining white crescent. It was so far away, millions and millions of miles from your reach, yet in this moment it felt so close. Almost like you could reach out and run the tips of your fingers along the rough surface, only to be pulled away by the strain of your arm. There had been nights in the past where you sat out here, the same brand of cigarettes between your lips as you laughed into the moonlit sky. You weren’t alone in those times. You had someone to smile with you, share your cigarettes and trace the circulatory shape of the moon into your bare thigh. But it would be the same person who broke all their promises. 

 I don’t wanna go home. 

Chan’s dark hair danced in the breeze as he leaned his upper-half on the balcony fence. His curls ruffled as the wind passed by, tangoing down the street to touch the bodies of others. He turned to you with a sparkle in his eyes, brighter than the headlights of cars passing below or the lights reflecting through the windows of offices adjacent to the apartment. A sigh of content passed his lips as he watched in a daze, taking in the heavenly sight of you doing the mundane activity of lighting a cigarette. The orange spark moved against your skin, tinted the surface with a bright hue. If he could stay in this moment forever, he would do it without a second thought. 

 Don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms. 

Two weeks had passed since you had done this, but that content feeling had finally returned. Chan laid with his head on your chest, his back to your abdomen as you raked your nimble fingers through his thick curls. His lips parted to make way for the toxic stick of tobacco he had taken from you moments prior, the fumes inhaled deeply to his lungs before he blew the remnants out lightly. You licked your chapped lips before pressing a soft kiss to Chan’s head, an action that usually made him smile. Just because you couldn’t see it from your position, doesn’t mean it wasn’t there, right? The night was silent. It was devoid of car tires on the road or drunk people yelling and laughing. There was no movement or light in the air as misty clouds sheltered the supposedly full moon. At the time, nothing else seemed off about that night. A foolish assumption considering that was the night it all started. 

 Shutting me out. 

   |  chan♡ : sorry baby i can’t make it tonight

Your cigarette packs emptied much slower now. Chan’s shoes were rarely left strewn by your front door, instead they stayed on his feet as he dragged his way around the office. Every night he was forced to work overtime before he would return to his small apartment and collapse on his bed. Usually, he would be walking into your apartment with half-lidded eyes, but you knew his was closer than yours. Your heart ached every time he blew you off, but you knew it was because he was busy. Chan was hard-working, so much so that it concerned you many times. Yet he spoke with so much confidence and reassurance when saying ‘I’m fine, baby’. Perhaps that was because he was fine. Work hadn’t been straining him or taking away the nights he wished to spend with you, he already had other engagements. They were the reason he refused to work overtime most nights, the reason he couldn’t make it to your house to lay in the moonlight with you. Those were the plans you had no clue about. 

 You looked at me like I was someone else. 

Your skin heated under the pressure of the flame, your hand flinching back instinctively. The orange light flickered out as you loosened the grip of your thumb, lowering the lighter from your cigarette. It was a mistake you hadn’t made since you started slowly killing yourself with the tobacco sticks, but it was one you could easily make in your mindset. It was somewhere else, your mind. Perhaps it was circling the moon or dancing with the twinkling stars, perhaps it was weaving in and out of traffic or running down the busy streets. Wherever it was, it certainly didn’t plan on coming back to you soon. The thought plagued you infuriatingly. Surely it was just a typo, like he said. Chan never lied to you – in fact, you had convinced yourself at this point that he was more reliable than the family that raised you. Though, in the past weeks the words ‘reliable’ and ‘Chan’ seemed to oppose one another. 

   |  chan♡ : r we still meeting at urs? 

   |  what? 

   |  chan♡ : oh sorry i meant to send that to jaeun 

   |  chan♡ : jaehyun* 

It had to be a mistake. Jaeun and Chan didn’t know each other well, she was just some girl Chan felt obliged to be friends with on Facebook because they worked in the same building. But, Jaehyun and Chan didn’t know each other well either. You remembered the one time Chan and Jaehyun went outside of work together was for a work-related party that Jaehyun drove Chan to. No, it didn’t matter who Chan was spending time with. He was a loyal and reliable boyfriend. He loved you. 

 Used to be the one to hold you when you fall. 

The mark on his neck was prominent, carelessly on display to show he’d forgotten about it. It certainly wasn’t from your teeth, you’d remember something like that. You’d remember spending enough time with him to make a mark that noticeable, even in your drunkest hours. The sight of it sitting so mockingly, carefree on the side of his neck irked you to no end. Purples and reds blended together on the pale expanse of skin, making an infuriatingly beautiful creation. There was something about the way Chan looked with hickeys that infatuated you to no end, but knowing that this certainly wasn’t your doing made you sick. Not the kind of sick you get after an energizing sugar rush, but the kind of sick you get when you know something bad is happening. When the pit in your stomach opens and your mind screams at you to do something, anything. Yet, the question dies on your tongue before you can even mention it. Just one night of tranquillity with Chan, that’s all you ask for. You wouldn’t dare fuck it up with your burning questions, it was so much easier to bare the burden of thinking but not knowing. You weren’t sure if you were ready to know. 

 I don’t fuck with your tone. 

Something was most definitely off on that night. Chan was snappy, quick to answer your questions with short responses and didn’t seem to take notice of what you were saying. Half of it was because he was too busy watching the ash of his cigarette fall to the surface below him, while the other half was because his eyes were glued to his phone. You couldn’t see the screen if he tried, his larger frame was hunched over the bright screen to hide whatever it contained. It can’t have been anything good, even you weren’t naïve enough to believe otherwise. A soft sigh passed your lips, “Chan, are you even listening?” 

“(Y/N), can’t you see I’m busy?” He snapped back ferociously, looking at you with a mocking gaze. It embarrassed you, like a student getting told off for talking in the middle of class and feeling everyone turn to look at them. For some reason, you felt humiliated as you mumbled an apology, looking down at your twiddling thumbs. Chan stood from the chair, shoving his phone in his pocket as he approached the balcony fence to take one last drag. He mumbled as he fiddled with the remnants of the stick, “I have to go.” 

“Can’t you stay a little longer?” You pleaded softly, watching as Chan crushed the cigarette under his shoes. 

“No,” he spoke firmly before walking past you. You heard the door slam shut, your heart shattered a little. When did he become so cold? 

 I’m done fighting all night. 

A shaky breath escaped your lips as the footsteps grew closer. Your eyes darted to your phone momentarily, rereading your sealed fate 

   |  chan i need you to come over 

   |  chan: baby i’m busy 

   |  it wasn’t a request

“What is it?” Chan’s voice ripped through the cool air, his feet stopping not too far from your chair as you watched the moon sit idly. Maybe if you stayed quiet for long enough, he would sit with you and admire the moon – but you knew that wasn’t what you wanted. 

The words spilled off your tongue before you could think about it, “I’m leaving you.” 

The night fell silent, though not as unsettling as before. His eyebrows furrowed as he stepped closer, “what do you mean you’re leaving?” You withheld a scoff. His voice was controlled with concern and worry, but he only seemed to hear what he wanted. You weren’t leaving, you were leaving him. There was a stark difference in your mind. 

“I mean,” your head turned to face him, expressionless, “I’m letting you crawl back to Jaeun without any interruptions.” 

Chan freezed in his position – it had finally caught up with him. The guilt crushed him in that moment, weighing like a tonne of bricks on his muscular chest. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, a somewhat nervous habit you had picked up on. He only did it in extreme moments of not knowing what the fuck to do, “baby, I–” 

“That’s not my name.” 

“(Y/N), I promise you it’s a misunderstanding,” you stopped listening. There was a desire entrenched in you to hear him out, give him the benefit of the doubt, but all you could see as you stared into the distance was that ugly hickey from a month ago. You could see the notifications of texts claiming he was working late. All you could see were his lies and broken promises, right to your fucking face. 

“Go.” 

“I–I can’t leave you. I love you.” 

A scoff passed your lips at his strained tone, “I’m sure you said the same thing to her.” You looked at him, soaking in his appearance for what you hoped would be the last time. The curly brown hair that you used to run your fingers through, his pale cheeks that used to crease into dimples when he smiled at you, his veiny hands that would hold you so delicately. But now he had someone else to do those things with, “if you really loved me, you wouldn’t have hurt me.” He tried desperately, but it was no use, you already knew enough, “just go.” 

The slam of your apartment door rang through the night, you heaved a breath. It didn’t matter if you negotiated into the night, nothing would change. He would always go back to her. As night transitioned to day, the truth rose with the sun. The embers shone on your soul as you freed yourself from the toxic restraints you had felt in the months prior. No longer would you wait for Chan, no longer would you beat yourself up about missing him, no longer would he twist your heartstrings as he moulded lips with someone else. You ground your cigarette into the balcony as you squinted at the sun, your eyelashes contouring the outline of the sun to become more clear. A bitter chuckle passed your lips as you lowered your gaze to the streets below, bustling with life and opportunity. It became clear to you in that moment why both you and Chan idolised the night.

It was so much easier to hide in the dark. 

 I don’t wanna slow dance in the dark.