#maybe I should ask to get some charcoal things for my birthday.... Tumblr posts

[honks-n-stonks]

did charcoal stuff in class... sadly I will be unable to complete the great izuchi one as we're starting something new tomorrow and my teach asked me to hang it up in the hallway 🥹

the paolumu one is also a bit outdated as I added a some touches to it but blegghh

[seriouslysnape]

Hi, love! Could I request something with Snape and a female reader? They dating but lately, Snape is busy with work and the reader doesn't want to disturb him or tell him she needs attention because she's quite shy and doesn't want to be a burden. But when she finally gathered the courage to tell him, he's quite surprised she missed his affection so much. Smut or just fluff whatever you feel like writing will be nice! Don't feel pressure to write it if you don't like that idea. Thank you and have a great day! (PS: I miss Alan Rickman so much T^T such an amazing actor! Ps2: Because of you I started to be a Lupin girl like whaaat he so sweet, I love how you are writing him!) 🖤💚

This is SO sweet. Like SO SWEET. And also, I was the same way! I didn’t start REALLY liking Lupin until I started reading Lupin stuff!

__

Time for You

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Smut, Oral sex.

Word Count: 1,891

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

__

Communication is always a crucial step in maintaining a healthy, successful relationship. You knew that making your needs, wants, concerns, etc. verbally known was very important.

You were bored. Plain and simple, you were completely stricken with absolutely nothing to do while Severus remained holed away in his office. You would think that a school instructor would take the summers off, but Severus had a plan to change his usual class curriculum, so he had been working around the clock to create a brand new Potions class.

He had been staying busy for the first few weeks of summer, working several hours a day in his home office. Severus was always very in the zone when he worked. He tuned mostly everything out, only taking a break when he couldn’t stay awake or needed to eat or use the restroom. It was a monotonous cycle that had made your home life boring, and had taken a toll on your summer vacation.

He didn’t realize that he had been rather distant, and that he hadn’t shown you much attention at all. It didn’t help that you were too timid to actually speak up and say anything to him. You had always had a hard time expressing your wants and needs to Severus. You never wanted to come off too clingy or too pushy. You hated to ever interrupt him while he worked, so for the most part, you had stayed quiet. You didn’t want to get on his nerves or upset him.

Although, you could probably count the times he’s actually been upset with you on one hand.

You were growing more and more needy for him with each passing day. You missed his touch, his voice, and his hands on you. You just wanted him to pay attention to you, just for a little while.

You paced outside of his office, trying to encourage yourself to go talk to him. He was your boyfriend after all, and effective communication was important. Severus always expressed to you how he wanted you to tell him if you needed something. He wanted you to be happy and content, but if there was something that was making you unhappy, you had to be the one to tell him.

You took a deep breath, building up the courage to go talk to him. If nothing else, maybe you could steal a quick make out session.

You slowly pushed the door open to reveal Severus scribbling away on some parchment at his desk. He had stacks of lesson plans for the upcoming school year and a list of new materials that students would need. He had been going hard at this for a while. You just wished he’d take a break. You peeked your head in.

“Severus?” You called out to him.

His head didn’t turn to you. His body language gave no indication that he had heard you at all. You fully entered the room, closing the door gently behind you. You approached him from behind, gingerly resting your hands on his shoulders. His entire frame relaxed at the feel of such a soothing touch. He sighed lightly.

“Hello, darling.” He greeted, pausing his writing for a moment.

You rubbed his shoulders, drawing soft groans from him.

“How’s it going in here?” You asked.

“Quite well actually. I’m happy with the progress I’ve made.” He replied.

You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, his black hair was soft on your lips. Your hands moved from his shoulders so you could run your fingers through his charcoal colored locks. You massaged at his scalp as he continued to work, talking to him sweetly.

“It’s a beautiful day outside. It’s warm and the sky is clear.” You pointed out to him.

His eyes shifted from his desk to the window. He hadn’t even taken a moment to look at the perfect summer weather. It had been an unusually pretty summer, and you hated that Severus was spending it cooped up in his dark office. The two of you should be having a picnic under your favorite oak tree, or even feeding ducks by the lake. He was missing out on such a flawless summer. That only prompted you further to get him away from his loads of work and actually enjoy his time off.

“Oh, it sure is,” He announced; “You should get out of the house for a bit. Take a walk through the park, yes?” He suggested.

You took a breath.

“I want you to come with me, love.” You requested, pulling his hair carefully behind his ears.

A sigh resonated from his chest. He’d love nothing more than to break away from his desk that he had shackled himself to and soak up the outside freshness with you, but he had convinced himself that he simply had too much to do.

“I need to work. I’ll never be ready by September if I fail to keep working.” He said, still writing with his favorite quill that you had given him as a birthday gift.

He didn’t seem to notice that you were hinting at something. Over the years, he had learned how to gauge your behaviors and your moods to notice when you wanted something, but he still encouraged you to tell him yourself. Now though, he was so occupied that he didn’t notice at all. You felt a twinge of annoyance that he wasn’t taking you more seriously, which is what caused you to blurt out rather sternly.

“Severus, please.” You begged.

Your breath caught in your throat the moment the words left your mouth and Severus’ quill stopped scratching. You had surely gotten his attention, because you were never one to snarl at him like that. He set his quill down completely, turning in his chair to look back at you. You were stunned still, surprised at yourself for having such an involuntary reaction.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” You apologized, giving in to the urge to leave him to keep working.

You went to walk away, feeling as though you had totally crossed a line. This was always the sort of thing you tried to avoid; getting upset and possibly causing an argument. You weren’t the best when it came to confrontation, so you tried your best to maneuver around it. Before you could make any real progress to leave the room, a hand caught your wrist.

“Wait. Don’t go,” He pleaded, standing from his desk; “What’s the matter, [Y/N]?”

He knew now that you were trying to tell him something, but he wanted to see if he could get you to tell him without him having to figure it out himself. He saw the way your eyes shifted to your feet. He didn’t want you to shut down on him when he knew you wanted something.

“Please, tell me.” He added, bringing your head back so you’d look at him.

You bit your lip hesitantly. You didn’t want to seem like you were nagging him or overly pushy. But that didn’t make the fact that you were craving for his affection any less true.

“I miss you.” You finally confessed.

Severus’ expression softened even more than it was already. He could hear the desperation and longing in your voice. You were feeling neglected, and he felt guilty for not making you feel appreciated. He did appreciate you in all aspects. He adored you and he loved you. It wasn’t fair that you were feeling this way.

He was rather astonished that you had missed him enough to speak up in such a way. That’s how he knew that you were really missing him.

“Oh, my dear. Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” He questioned, caressing your smooth cheek,

You gave a simple shrug.

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You explained.

“You never bother me. I always want you to feel comfortable talking to me.” He invigorated.

You nodded into his hand, an internal cheer of victory playing in your head when he lowered his head to kiss you. His lips caught yours in a sensual way, making up for all the lost kisses from the last several weeks. You were stealing kisses from him left and right, making his heart flutter with desire. Before you knew it, you were greedily making out and he had swept you away through the house to your bedroom.

You fell onto your back onto the mattress as he continued to kiss you deeply and roughly. The noises flowing from your chest were nothing less than eager and craving. You reached for his belt, the clinking noise of it releasing was enough to get you totally excited. He pushed your hand away, a ravishing chuckle rumbling from his chest as he briefly stopped kissing you.

“This is all about you, darling.” He growled.

His lips detached from your skin, his body shimmying downwards, his face just inches away from your heated sex. He draped your legs over his shoulders as his tongue wasted no time licking a heavy stripe and your hearty whimper filled the room. He sucked and kissed as one of your hands was steady on his head to prohibit him from going too far, while the other was pressed against the headboard behind your. It felt like electricity was crackling all through your body as he mercilessly pleasured your.

“Oh, fuck...you’ve got quite the mouth, Professor.” You tried to laugh, but it came out as another moan.

Obviously this wasn't the first time you had ever been in this situation with him. But it still surprised you every time.

His chuckle vibrated against you, his voice muffled slightly;

“You better believe it.”

He knew your body backwards and forwards, which is why he put his arm over your waist to keep you from squirming too much. He smirked as he felt your muscles contract against his hold. It was a damn hot sight to see. His face buried between your legs, his tongue and lips working wonders on the woman he adored so much. Normally, he’d hold off on letting you cum. He’d slow his movements to tantalize you and make you beg. But you deserved what you wanted after these weeks.

“Severus, please...” You said feeling your legs begin to shake as his movements didn’t slow.

“I’ve got you, baby.” He spoke.

Your head fell back onto the pillow as a flash of white covered your vision. Your legs tightened on his shoulders as you crashed over your high. He continued to suck your and work you through it. He licked and swallowed your cum and lapped up your release. His name fell from your lips once more as you felt yourself settling back to normal. He grinned once your breathing attempted to slow, he returned to your side. You supposed that you owed him now, but that’d come later. He kissed you less harshly than before, you could taste yourself on his tongue.

“I love you.” You breathed out, sucking on his neck.

“I love you too.” He returned.

He hummed as you left a few hickeys on his neck. His lips finding yours soon after. He was making it a goal to stay as close to you as possible for the rest of the summer.

Potions class could definitely wait.

[quietplaceinthestars]

🍰🌌✂️❇️ for any oc(s)!

Physically unable to not talk about all of them all at once if its for any oc. Thank you for the ask Sir Crow!!

Link to ask list/post

🍰- favorite cake flavor? are they specific about types of cakes? 🌌- what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them? ✂️- what is the "last straw" for them to cut someone out of their life? how easily do they let go of people? (I've repurposed this question to how do they deal with people leaving/dying) ❇️- what is their most prized possession? what do they value?

Marks (CT-282)

🍰- He wants to try cake. Its something he's heard of. I would say he enjoys a nice vanilla slice with kind of fruit syrup/mash on top. Should he get the chance he will try it, but tends to go for more starchy meaty type of foods when on leave.

🌌- My inspiration for this guy is that he already exists in legends (I think) and I've decided he is mine now. Marks is from a mock article written by Kevin Rubio . Immediately nailed him as a nerd.

✂️- Marks is forced to let people go a lot of the time, so its something he's had to get good at. My only oc to be reconditioned he knows that if he couldn't let go and kept trying to look for the siblings he's missing in his own head, he would only get worse migraines.

❇️- Most prized possession is his hard drive full of political theory and definitions. He wasn't supposed to keep it. But he decided he was stealing <3 Values the knowledge and agency it represents.

Shade (The Stillness in Shade/CT-13-6048)

🍰- Congrats, you've opened a can of worms! Shade, for plot and character reasons spent some time with local peoples. In this instance it is the Togruta Kiros colonists. His favorite "cake" is the sweet/savory sort of pie that Togruta make after a victory made with star wars equivalent to red beans. "Tastes like victory" is an idiom that finally makes sense to him and it tastes like joy and freedom. (I personally think that Togruta can eat plant matter, but maybe a little sparingly)

🌌- Decided this guy was going to be so weird about religion. Also, part of his inspiration was like eyes that glow and coins and finding lost things. It'll make sense eventually.

✂️- Some times its best simply do not exist in his life and others times it hurts very badly. Most rounded guy in dealing with cutting people off, removing them from his life or people dying. He's front liner that gets tossed around battalions. Makes friends, some temporary and some long term. mourns and then carries them but also carries on. people he needs to cut off is a little more complicated.

❇️- Most prized possession is that he has a little string of metal baubles and coins that he found while on patrol and scouting. He has two favorites and he does little magic tricks with them. Has a superstition that he needs the two of them on his person at all times.

Medic Pallor, Specialist in Forensic Examining

🍰-Loves layers in his food. Baklava, tiered cakes, the likes. He just thinks they're neat. Pallor isn't to picky about flavors, enjoys the experience.

🌌- There's a few things I wanted to explore in the star wars universe in regards to medical practice and being a clone. Also the idea of being cold. Jacob Geller has deeply influenced this character.

✂️- He has a unique relationship to death and specifically the death of his siblings, compared to the vast majority of other clones. Cutting off people is phrase that carries a lot of weight in an ironic way to him. If he didn't have a solid support base around him he would actually lose his mind, and he knows it. If he needs to end a relationship, he'll just say bye and get himself assigned to an assignment where he has to travel for a bit to cool down.

❇️- His homemade sketchbook and ink pen. Got some charcoal from Tar one time. They help him cope.

Corporal Mellie

🍰- Just to fuck with Tar she'll get the most toothachingly sweet flavors. Birthday cake and sprinkles. Store bought mass produced stuff. Drives Tar up a wall, she thinks its hilarious. She actually likes a matcha flavored sponge cake with a drizzle over it, or a simple well made brownie.

🌌- Decided that outwardly she is a very kind and caring and empathetic person but deep down she's all vocal fry screams. Her being thoughtful is a conscious choice. The only person truly close to her is Tar. Inspiration was... mellification. It is a mummification process OR the process in which honey becomes honey.

✂️- Cannot bring herself to cut people off. Toxic trait of hers. Emotional leeches are the second greatest problem in her life. If its a death during a battle, she will have a mourning period later. If its through the grapevine Mellie will pretty much go on autopilot through the rest of the day. She's to nice to everyone for them to not feel bad about being mean to her. She knows and will exploit this if necessary.

❇️- Bee and honey themed accessories. Its her self expression you know? (the photo-booth pictures)

Private Tar

🍰- On principle he abhors fondant. Likes chocolate and a dollop of buttercream with some coco powder sifted over the top. A little mint leaf and raspberry to the side. Its pretentious and Mellie makes fun of him for it.

🌌- Tar pits. self insert. the other, inedible half to Mellie's honey. The resin seal on Mellie's stone coffin. Still working on something more coherent then "I have shrimp emotions about him".

✂️- On the holonet he loves blocking people. Doesn't have time to argue on his space reddit posts. Blocking the chancellor on space twitter was a moment for him. He doesn't particularly hold grudges, but he does remember things. Will watch and wait. If he doesn't see a change in behavior Tar will just ghost the person if possible.

❇️- Picture of him and Mellie in a photo-booth. Likes having physical reminders of people. black nail polish bottle.

Also I'm pretty sure they all value their actual kits very much, but I've focused on things that individualize them.

This got pretty long, let me know if there's anything you want me to make more clear!

[petersasteria]

good 4 u || harry holland

sour masterlist || harry || sour taglist

1,589 words sorry for the shit ending ?? bc i didnt know how to end it lmao italics are flashbacks

* * * *

“Babe, you didn’t have to spoil me.” You chuckled.

“You deserve it, love. You deserve the world.” Harry looked at you lovingly before pressing a sweet kiss on your lips.

-

“I really want to be a professional photographer and filmmaker, you know?” Harry told you one day. Both of you were lying wide awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. Both of you couldn’t sleep, so you talked about random things.

“I believe in you, Harry. I believe in you more than anyone or anything. You can do just that. I support you.” You smiled as you turned your head to face him. He looked at you and grinned, “So, you think I’m really going to be those things?”

“Yeah. Why not? You’re an amazing photographer and filmmaker. Believe in yourself, Harry. My faith in you will be nothing if you don’t believe in yourself. Trust me.” You told him.

“That’s true. You’re right.” Harry said before yawning.

“I’m always right.” You curled up against him and rested your head on his chest. He chuckled and kissed the top of your head.

-

“Harry, where are you? I’ve been waiting out here for an hour now.” You said through the phone. Harry said he’d pick you up from your university, but he wasn’t there yet. Then it began to rain heavily, causing you to run to the nearest shade. You were cold, wet, and impatient.

“I’ll be there in a while. See you later!” Harry hung up.

After thirty minutes, Harry finally arrived. You quickly got in and sighed in relief when you realized the whole car was warm.

“What took you so long?” You asked him.

“My car’s acting up. I hate this old piece of shit.” Harry grumbled as he tried to start the car. After five tries, it finally worked.

“You need a new car.” You laughed.

“Yeah, I do.” He chuckled.

-

“I hope I’m not interrupting your sleepover or whatever.” Harry said quietly through the phone. You were at your friend, Elouise’s slumber party because it was her birthday.

“No, you’re not. We’re just watching a movie and I’ve seen this movie a bunch of times.” You assured him. You walked out of the living room and went to the kitchen. You sat on the bar stool and asked, “What’s up?”

“Mum and dad are just being mean, that’s all.” Harry sighed.

“I know you’re about to cry, so just let it out. Talk to me.” You said softly. Harry started sobbing and telling you about his fight with his parents.

“Y/N/N, I got offered an apprenticeship in Dublin. That’s the biggest opportunity I’ve ever received and they’re stopping me. It’s like they don’t want me to succeed, but when Tom wants something done, they let him. It’s so fucking tiring. I never asked them for anything and the one time I do, they say shit. It’s unfair.” He sobbed and your heart broke for him.

“I feel you. I legit feel the same way, but we just have to prove them wrong, yeah? You’ll make it big and what they say won’t matter as much anymore. They love you and they just want what’s best for you, but sometimes they don’t exactly know what’s best for you. It’s weird, I swear. Just prove them wrong. You’ll get another opportunity again and when you get that, it’ll be bigger than that apprenticeship in Dublin.” You told him with a small smile on your face.

“You get me so well.” Harry smiled as he wiped his tears. “I’ll just go to sleep now. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

-

You couldn’t take it anymore. Harry’s face seemed to be everywhere you went, haunting you. After being together for two and a half years, Harry broke up with you because of reasons only he seemed to know. After he broke up with you, you spent the whole week just crying. You didn’t understand, but life was really cruel.

Three weeks later, word got out that Harry was dating some model and that surprised you. It surprised you because he moved on really quick and he looked really happy and healthy. He looked better compared to when he was dating you. You were proud of him, but it made you wonder why Harry chose to make himself better for this girl and not for you when you were together. It seemed unfair.

Unfortunately, you were still friends with Sam. You were Sam’s favorite and he actually preferred you instead of Harry’s new girlfriend. Wanting to hang out with you, You and Sam met up at the mall and just shop or walk around. You couldn’t really hang out at Sam’s house because of Harry and his girlfriend.

“She’s nice, but I’m on your side.” Sam said as he ate his ice cream. You laughed and shook your head. Sam looked at you and said, “I’m serious! She’s trying to make me her best friend or something. Like, she’s trying really hard.”

“Then try to be her friend. Maybe you guys might click and then you’ll replace me like how Harry replaced me.” You said. You were aware it was petty and pathetic, but you couldn’t help it. This time, it was Sam who laughed.

“You know, I overheard him the other day. He told her that she’s the only person who gets him and I’m just sitting there all confused because he said the same thing to you. In fact, it’s like he forgot all about you.” Sam said as he animatedly spoke with his hands. He seemed really annoyed.

“Okay, then.” You chuckled. “You seem annoyed.”

“Yeah because I thought both of you were it for each other.” He said with a sad smile. You returned it, but didn’t say anything.

At the end of the day, it was time for both of you to go home. Sam groaned in frustration as he texted while walking. “What?” You asked, turning your head to look at him.

Both of you stopped walking when you reached the mall’s exit. Sam was typing furiously as you looked at him in confusion. “What’s wrong?” You asked.

He looked at you and sighed, “Tom can’t pick me up.”

“I thought you drove here?” You asked and he shook his head. “What happened to your car?”

“My parents borrowed it because their car is in the shop, getting fixed. Tom can’t pick me up because he has to use his car to go to an event that he forgot about. I’d call for an Uber or something, but I literally have zero money on me. So, I have no choice but to ask Harry.” Sam said, biting his lip.

“Well, shit.” Was all you said as Sam looked at you with guilt all over his face. He quickly sent a text to Harry and he smiled a bit when he immediately got a reply.

“He’s coming soon.” Sam told you. You snorted. You vividly remember Harry’s slow and beat up car. Sam was talking to you, but you weren’t really paying attention. Your mind went to all those times you spent in Harry’s old car and all the places you’ve been. Those were moments you’ll never forget.

“Y/N, my ride’s here.”

You were pulled from your thoughts as soon as Harry said that. You looked at the direction that Sam was looking at and you were surprised to see a beautiful, new car. It was charcoal grey and the windows were so clean, you could see the inside. Harry was driving and his new girlfriend was sitting on the passenger seat.

“Oh shit. I didn’t know she was coming.” Sam turned to you. “I’m so sorry, Y/N/N. If I had known he was taking her, I wouldn’t-”

“It’s okay. I’m mature and civil. I can handle it. Besides, I can’t avoid them forever. It was bound to happen.” You gave him a small smile.

Harry stopped in front of you both and he rolled his window down. His sunglasses were resting on top of his head and he looked really fresh.

“Are you getting in or not?” He asked Sam, completely ignoring you.

“Hello to you too.” Sam rolled his eyes and crossed his arms as he took a few steps to the door of his backseat. “Y/N, do you need a ride?”

You shook your head, “No, thanks. I’ll call an Uber.” You turned to face Harry, who was already looking at you. “Your photography is improving.” You said.

“Thanks.”

“Nice car, too. I’m glad you replaced the busted ol’ thing.” You chuckled awkwardly.

“Yeah, I figured I should buy myself a new car. The old one wasn’t doing it for me. I need to upgrade, y’know?”

You held back a snappy reply because it wouldn’t do you any good. Plus, you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself. You wanted to ask him if he broke up with you because he needed a girlfriend upgrade, but you kept it to yourself.

“Yeah, that’s nice. Good for you, though… and congrats, I guess.” You gave him a tight-lipped smile and he returned it. Sam got in the car and rolled his window down. “I’ll text you, okay?” Sam said and you just nodded. Harry drove away and you stood there, watching.

You wished you could not care like Harry and you wished you could move on just as quick, but you couldn’t. No matter how hard you tried, you were still stuck on him. It sucked.

* * * *

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @celestialholland @alinastarkrovs @piscesparker @prancerrparkerr @spideyspeaches @givebuckyhisplumsnow @blueleatherbag @theonly1outof-a-billion @hollandbroz-n-haz @starlight-starks @webmeupspiderdaddy @studiesinspanish

[subbykboys]

the bad boy’s secret | chanyeol

↳ pairing : badboy!chanyeol x reader

Genre ➞ bad boy AU, fwb AU, college AU, smut

Warnings ➞ sub!chanyeol, dom!reader, bondage, oral (m. & f. receiving), edging, unprotected sex, riding, mild dirty talk, mild degrading, creampie, face riding, cum eating [ sorry not sorry ], reader is in denial , overuse of the word please

Word Count ➞ 8.2k

chanyeol is a bad boy with a nasty reputation. he’s sexy, mysterious, and entirely untouchable. well... to most people, that is. to you, on the other hand-- he’s something else entirely.

posted ; 6.04.20

there was an angry chill in the air. it bit at your face and hands as you strode to the campus lot where your car was parked. all around you, brightly colored leaves fell to the earth as strong gusts of wind broke them free of the branches they so weakly clung to. they blanketed the ground in shades of vibrant reds, tempting oranges, and dull, blotchy browns. 

it was actually really beautiful. you'd always been a fan of the cool undertones of fall. especially the reds. ugh, red was such a gorgeous color. practically everything you owned was red, or some varying shade of it. it was just so sexy and dangerous and— 

"(y/n)!" you were snapped from your inner thoughts by a barking voice. 

quickly, you averted your eyes from the ground and onto the face of the girl walking beside you. her name is Mina, you're pretty sure. you grimaced at her irritated expression, realizing you must have zoned out again. getting lost in your thoughts at inappropriate times was a pretty frequent occurrence for you. 

"huh?" 

she scoffed in disbelief, eyes narrowing, "where's your head at? i've been talking for a solid five minutes and i'm pretty sure you stopped listening six minutes ago."

you chuckled, scratching the back of your neck as an apologetic smile touched your lips, "sorry. i was just thinking about the leaves." 

"you're so weird." 

you didn't know why she felt comfortable saying that to you. you weren't even friends. at least, not by your standards. maybe acquaintances. maybe. 

and that was only because you happened to have the same afternoon photography class and just so happened to sit next to each other. you supposed in her pea sized brain that was enough to qualify for a friendship. but you had standards. and she was god damn rude. 

regardless, you didn't have the energy or patience to start any sort of altercation. so you shrug, head bobbing lazily in agreement. 

"i know."

that seemed to satisfy her as any remaining glimmer of annoyance was swept off her features with one last eye roll and replaced by a light grin, "whatever. hey, there's this party at my boyfriend's frat house tonight and you should totally come." 

"no thanks." was your swift, concise rejection. but of course, that was not enough to satisfy her. 

"what? why not?" her tone demanded an explanation that you really didn't feel like giving. 

sighing heavily, you kicked a pebble across the sidewalks. "parties aren't my thing." 

that was maybe half the truth. you actually did like parties. just not frat boy parties. they were like beacons for girls with low self esteem and insecure rich boys with superiority complexes. they were loud as fuck and made your head ache. not to mention they reeked. apparently, a lot of guys didn't learn in high school how to put on deodorant. your preference stood with more low key parties, with a more controlled number of attendees and some chill drinking. maybe getting a little baked if you were in that vibe. 

"you can be such a buzzkill," she groaned loudly, head rolling back as she stomped her foot childishly. you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. 

"i know." 

"do you ever just let yourself have a good time? like ever? we're in the prime of our lives for god’s sake!" and there she goes again with the 'prime of our lives' bullshit. please. maybe this was the best life would ever be for her, but you had other plans. 

"i have to finish an essay for my business class." no you didn't. 

"but it's friday! you have all weekend to finish it!" why was she trying to argue with you? you'd already said no, so why was she still trying to convince you. spoiler, you weren't about to change your mind anytime soon. 

"i prefer not to put work off until the very last minute." also a lie. 

"(y/n)," she whined, "come on, i personally think it would be pretty healthy for you not to spend another friday night pent up in that little apartment of yours—" 

all at once she was cut off by the distinct roaring of an engine. both your gazes shifted towards the road ahead of you, watching as a flashy red motorcycle came tearing down the street. an excited gasp exploded from your–barely–acquaintance's mouth while a low groan escaped yours. 

fantastic. just what you needed. your daily dose of—

"Yeolie!"

you winced as she squealed his name, waving energetically. you silent prayed he'd just keep going. but of course, he didn't. his bike came to a gradual halt in front of the sidewalk you stood on. it purred as he planted his feet securely on the cement. 

now this next part you could almost see happening in slow motion. 

he reached up with his leather glove clad hands, pulling off his sleek black helmet to reveal a pair of thick, pink lips, a sharp, defined nose, charcoal black eyes, and a head of silver locks. you could practically feel Mina swooning as he swung his head to the side, effectively flipping his hair like some kind of wannabe fetus Justin Bieber. it took less than a moment for those dark eyes to fall on the pair of you, and a slow smirk to crawl across his face. 

Mina immediately rushed up to him (all too energetically for someone who already has a boyfriend, mind you), squeaking out sweet greetings as her touchy hands found purchase on the sleeve of his leather jacket. 

what was up with him and the leather anyway? it was only on shockingly rare occasions that you witnessed him donning something other than his signature black leather outfit, decorated with silver zippers and complimented by a thick chain around his neck and a single silver earring. how much cheesier could he get? 

you'd think after high school, people would be over the whole 'bad boys are so hot' thing. 

apparently not. 

because at your uni, Park Chanyeol was hot shit. every girl and every guy wanted to get their hands on him in one way or another. he was dangerous, sexy, mysterious, hard to get. he rode a blood red motorcycle and smoked blunts behind the main building for god's sake. 

he was the definition of a cliche. but it seemed you were the only person that could see through his whole charade. 

"(y/n), don't be rude! come say hi to Yeolie!" Mina suddenly whipped around, waving you over. 

this bitch— 

the corner of your lip twitched in a subtle sneer, but, ever the pacifist, you obliged, slowly moving to stand at her side. his irritating smirk widened upon your approach, tongue swinging over the corner of his lip as his eyes dropped to do a brief once over. 

"Chanyeol," you grunted with a less than enthusiastic tone. 

"(y/n)," was his swift reply, voice as deep and smooth as ever, "wonderful seeing you again. you look as happy-go-lucky as ever." 

the sarcasm was palpable. 

"yeah well, it seems i just can't contain myself with you around," you bit back with just as much satire, lips curling dryly. 

"i'm flattered," he all but cooed, head tilting downward as his teeth latched onto his bottom lip. 

he stared boldly into your eyes, and you stared right back with just as much fire. 

"um... do you guys, like... know each other?" 

"no."

"yes."

you both responded simultaneously.

confusion plastered itself across her face, eyes jumping back and forth from your face to his. a taunting smile tugged at the corners of his lips, "we actually went to the same high school, isn't that right, (y/n)?" 

you huffed in annoyance, shoulders slumping, "yeah. we did." 

"and you never told me this because…?" 

because you weren't close in the least and you hadn't even told her when your birthday was let alone about your high school life. 

"didn't seem like important information." 

she gaped at you in disbelief, "anything regarding my Yeolie is important information!" 

was she trying to stroke his already colossal ego? if his head got any bigger, it might just explode.

Chanyeol’s grin broadened at her statement, and you silently groaned, knowing exactly what was coming before he even opened his mouth, "yeah, (y/n). anything regarding me is important information. so why didn't you tell her? trying to keep me all for yourself? how greedy of you." 

"please." you scoffed.

Mina glared at you sharply before plastering an innocent smile across her face and twirling a strand of her platinum blonde dyed hair. "ignore her, Yeolie. i was actually wondering if i'd be seeing you at Jake's party tonight?" 

"wasn't planning on it," he admitted, and Mina pouted, lips puckering, over dramatically whining in protest. suddenly, his eyes shifted to you, that stupid smirk touching his features,  "but maybe if a certain buzzkill was attending... i'd be more tempted to make an appearance." 

buzzkill? oh, you. 

"i'm not—"

"of course (y/n)'s coming! wouldn't be a party without her!" Mina rushed to cut you off, throwing an arm over your shoulder and yanking you into her side with a grip tight enough to bruise. you looked at her like she was crazy, brows furrowed, eyes wide, lip raised in a disgusted sneer. but her hold was enough to squeeze the air out of your lungs and steal away your ability to refute. 

Chanyeol’s brows jumped in surprise, an amused grin spreading across his face, "really?"

"wait, no—"

"yes! i was surprised when she agreed, too! but guess she's finally breaking out of her shell!" you were going to kick her ass if she kept cutting you off. 

"well isn't that great to hear." there was a mischievous flicker in his dark eyes, a look you knew all too well. 

"so... you'll come?" she asked hopefully.

"sure." you were annoyed at how easily he agreed. he was still smirking smugly as he began pulling his helmet back down over his head. shooting you a wink and a two fingered wave, he spoke again, "see ya tonight." 

with that final word, he was speeding off down the road, tires kicking up dust and pebbles as they spun. 

as soon as Mina's grip loosened from around you, you were ten feet away, swiftly walking in the direction of your car. "(y/n)! wait!" she cried out, running after you in her five inch heels. you didn't slow down in the least. 

"i'm not going, Mina," you said sternly, not even bothering to look back at her. 

"b–but i told Chanyeol—" 

"no." 

"please?"

"not. happening." 

⋄⋆⋄

you ended up going. 

not because you wanted to, of course. but because Mina decided it was necessary to show up at your apartment and quite literally drag you out. she was surprisingly strong for such a small person, and fiercely persistent. she'd even gone the extra mile of forcefully applying makeup to your eyelids and lips. that's not to say you didn't put up one hell of a fight. but conflict was never your strong suite, and you eventually ended up going pliant under her ministrations. 

unsurprisingly, it was just as you expected it to be. loud. stinky. and filled to the brim with horny bastards looking for a quick fuck. you'd been there for all of ten minutes and you'd already gotten your ass grabbed six times. slimy assholes think it's acceptable to touch someone without permission. all the more reason you didn't want to stick around for long. 

not to mention, Mina had ditched you the minute you walked in the door to suck faces with her fuckboy boyfriend. since then you'd been gravitating from room to room, searching for the best place to sit without being squished by a horny couple practically dry humping against you. 

luckily, you found your solace upstairs in an empty bedroom. the music was muffled the moment you shut the door, the stuffy air that smelled of sweat and marijuana also clearing out. finally, you could breathe. 

you spotted a candle and lighter on the bedside table, and quickly moved to light it. the dull, soothing glow that filled the room, splashing light across the walls made the headache that had begun to swell at your temples ease up. exhaling softly, you fell back onto the neatly made bed, body relaxing into the soft duvet. 

but of course, your moment of tranquility was short lasting. 

because before you could so much as shut your eyes, the door was opening, and a painfully familiar voice was purring, "there you are~ i've been looking all over for you, (y/n), you sly girl." 

"fucking hell," you growled under your breath, propping yourself up on your elbows to face him properly, "what do you want, Chanyeol?" 

he gently nudged the door shut behind him, before walking over to where you lay. "isn't it obvious?" he murmured, leaning forward to press his hands against the mattress on either side of your ankles. 

"spell it out for me." 

he chuckled softly, knees meeting the bedding as he began to crawl upwards, until his face was hovering over yours. even you couldn't deny how beautiful he looked up close, with those big, dark eyes, boyishly grinning lips, smooth, tan skin... 

"i," he began, nose nudging against your cheek, "want," his lips feathered over yours, "you." 

a dark chuckle rolled off your tongue as you met his hooded, lustful gaze. "you we're so greedy last time... and still... you couldn't get enough," you replied smoothly, voice deepening as your desire for him grew. 

"what can i say? i'm insatiable." 

you scoffed, the corners of your lips curling as you lifted your head slightly, leaving only the tiniest of spaces between your mouth, "i don't think you deserve it." your whisper caressed his lips all too temptingly. A chill rolled down his spine, eyes fluttering as he felt himself falter briefly. 

"maybe i don't... but i can earn it..." 

now that caught your interest. 

a smirk touched your features, "and how might you do that?" 

he bit his lip, trying his best to subdue a grin, "by doing whatever you ask of me." 

"you willing to take that risk? after that little stunt earlier? i might just decide not to go easy on you." your voice was taunting, but the challenge and threat were very real. 

"i can handle anything you give me." 

you raised a brow, amused by his naive confidence. then, in the blink of an eye, you had him underneath you, pinning his wrists to the mattress above his head. the action had been so sudden that he could only gasp in shock when his back collided with the bed. you stared down at him with dark eyes, the tip of your tongue sliding over the corner of your mouth. 

"you sure about that, big boy?" 

he inhaled deeply when your head lowered to the curve of his throat, lips just barely grazing over that sensitive spot. "most definitely." he let out breathlessly, eyes fluttering as he tilted his chin back, offering himself to you. something dark alighted in your eyes, a sinister gleam in your smirk as thoughts of how you could absolutely ruin him flooded your mind. 

"you're going to regret saying that." 

you didn’t offer him the opportunity to respond before your lips crashed down on his. he let out a muffled sound of surprise at the sudden action, but quickly relaxed beneath you, returning the kiss eagerly. 

see? you much preferred Chanyeol when he wasn’t running that big mouth of his. he was always so much more fun when he was choking on desperate moans and trembling uncontrollably under your touch. 

truth about the infamous Park Chanyeol? he was a bitch. 

in fact... he was your bitch. 

it started back in high school. when you were the chill girl who wasn't too well known by anyone outside of your friend group, and when he was the untouchable bad boy that everyone drooled over. 

to keep it to the point, you'd both attended a mutual friend's party your senior year, got wasted, and hooked up. 

but, it wasn't what you'd expected it to be. no, because you'd expect Chanyeol to be the kind of guy to pin a girl (or guy) down and dominate the fuck out of them. but the moment your voice took on an authoritative pitch, he was putty in your hands, whining and moaning and begging... it stirred something to life inside of you that you had no idea was there. 

and it was good. really good. so good, in fact, he came running back to you within the next week practically begging for more. and shit, you gave it to him. he was one of the first guys you'd dominated like that. it was empowering, controlling a guy as big as Chanyeol was. it was an addictive sensation. 

but you'd made it very clear from the beginning that it was going to be nothing more than sex. it wasn't romantic, you weren't friends, and you had no intention of getting to know him on a deeper level than his body. though, he seemed suspiciously intent on worming his way into your life one way or another. the boy was relentless. luckily, you were equally as stubborn. a match made in hell, aren’t you? what a spectacle. 

you drew away from the kiss at the feeling of his tongue prodding at your lips, a low whine following soon after. you scoffed softly at the sight of his pouting face, “so needy.” 

“you can only blame yourself.” he shot back easily, eyes already hooded and darkened with lust. excitement glimmered within them as you reached down between your bodies, fingers slowly undoing his belt. 

“is that right?” you murmured, not breaking eye contact for a single moment, a lazy smirk resting on your face. he swallowed, trembling pupils jumping noncommittally from your intense stare down to where you were making easy work of his belt buckle. 

“i— yes.” you don’t think he knew what he was saying yes to, his mind already becoming a muddled mess from the promise of what the night had in store for the two of you. his rationality had a nasty habit of hopping out the window whenever you got him in this position. 

“what are you hoping happens tonight, Chanyeol?” you asked softly, slowly pulling his belt from the first loop of his jeans. 

he swallowed thickly, head beginning to swing back and forth is slow swoops. “i– i don’t—” his voice broke off with a strangled whine as you allowed your fingertips to caress ever so gently over the ever growing tent in his pants. 

you raised a brow into a questioning arch, stifling a smirk of amusement at his already flustered state. “it’s a simple question.” 

his cheeks pinkened. “i just… want you.” it almost came out more as a question than a statement, words shy and hesitant. 

“want me to what?” you pressed. 

“to… to kiss me.” his gaze fell onto your lips, his own parting. 

“kiss you?” you repeated, tone on the verge of taunting. “asking for a lot there, aren’t you, sweetheart?” 

you were teasing him, but he didn’t seem to mind, blinking slowly as he dragged his tongue over the pink swell of his thick lower lip. “want you to touch me…” his voice lowered an octave, deep, lustful eyes looking up at you intensely. 

“where?” 

“everywhere.” he replied without missing a beat. “anywhere. just— just want your hands. or your mouth. i’ll take anything that you give me… but you already know that.” 

you really loved the sound of his voice when he got like this. it was softer than cotton and smoother than silk, rumbling so deep in his chest that you could almost mistake it for purring. it spilled off his lips like the thickest, sweetest honey, so lush and lovely, dripping with shameless desire. something about it was so soothing. and the sounds he made were even better, his guttural groans and melodic moans were nothing short of symphonies. and you were the conductor. 

chuckling, you smirked down at him. “you’re right. i do already know that.” he gasped as you suddenly yanked his belt completely free. “now be a good little bitch and grab onto the headboard.” 

he eagerly complied, capturing his lip between his teeth as he watched you bind his wrists above his head. his eyes slowly dragged over your face, drifting over the length of your neck, following the smooths swells of your chest beneath your black tank top. a low groan slid from his lips as you pressed your hips forward slightly, just barely grinding against his growing erection. his eyes snapped up at the sound of your soft laughter. 

“my eyes are up here, sweetheart.” you hummed, pulling his belt taught before looping it around one of the vertical wooden bars. 

“and beautiful eyes they are.” he grinned up at you in that boyishly charming way, shooting you a playful wink. you scoffed, hands drifting down to rest on his firm chest before one raised to grip his jaw, tilting his head upward. lowering your own head, you allowed your lips to caress teasingly over his. 

“maybe i should gag you, too. keep that pretty mouth in check,” you mused, dragging your thumb slowly over his full lips, “but unfortunately i think i enjoy the sound of your voice almost as much as you do. especially when you're moaning my name. god it’s so hot.” 

you almost growled as he took your finger into his mouth, moaning softly around it. you swooped down, swiftly replacing your finger with your lips. the kiss was deep, rough, and hungry. distracted by your weaponized tongue, he didn’t process that you were unbuttoning his jeans until they were being pushed down his thighs and your hand was gripping his arousal through his thin black boxers. 

“fuck, (y/n),” he groaned deeply into your mouth, arms gently tugging against their restraints. you dragged your lips away from his, face lowering so that you could suck your mark onto the expanse of his neck. he sighed blissfully, hot breath rushing over your ear as he subtly rolled his hips, body temperature rising steadily. you bit down on his collarbone, hands pushing up under his shirt to feel at his toned, well built torso. he was so hard, muscles rigid and protruding, so warm to the touch. 

it was rather amazing. a guy as big as Chanyeol, as strong and as confident, could easily get the upper hand over you if he wanted. he could flip you over and pin you down without so much as breaking a sweat. but he didn’t. he let you pin him down, tie him up, dominate him, mind and body. he allowed himself to submit to you, to be taken by you: slowly, quickly, roughly, gently, he didn’t care, but dammit he enjoyed every second of it. and if that didn’t give you a rush of power, then you don’t know what could. 

goosebumps rose across his honeyed skin as you pushed his shirt up to fully expose his tight body to your ravenous eyes, a chill rolling down his spine when you lowered your mouth to latch onto the smooth swell of his pectoral. he moaned quietly, back arching as you peppered kisses down his abdomen, slowly shifting lower, lower, lower… until your face was level with his bulge. 

a sound of excitement flooded past his lips, his breathing becoming rapid and deep. “really?” he asked hopefully, voice breathless and light. a slow smirk crawled across your lips and you chuckled at the way he jolted with a moan when you pressed a slow kiss to his clothed arousal. 

“really.” you hummed in confirmation. “you said you wanted my mouth, didn’t you?” 

he frantically bobbed his head. “yes. yes, god yes. please.” you almost laughed at his shameless display of desperation. he let out a deep, strained groan as you flicked your tongue over his clothed erection, head falling back. 

“ah ah, eyes on me, baby.” you scolded mildly, squeezing his thighs in warning. he lifted his head without argument, face flushed and glistening with faint perspiration, lip caught in a tight grip between his teeth, brows furrowed. 

from your viewpoint, he looked rather beautiful: arms bound above his head, exposed chest rising and falling dramatically with each deep breath, messy silver hair falling flawlessly over his hooded, lustful eyes. 

and he in turn was also quite taken by how perfect you looked between his legs: smirking lips hovering right over where he needed them most, dark, penetrating gaze making his body tremble with an unspoken need. 

your fingers slipped under the elastic of his boxers, slowly easing them down his thighs until his length sprang free. “there he is,” you murmured, tongue dragging over your lower lip as you admired him, long and thick and swollen, precum spilling over his hot, red tip. he shuddered in delight as you traced your finger over a vein. 

“(y/n)…” his usually deep voice was pleading and airy, hands curling into tight fists above his head, “please.” 

you smiled up at him innocently before delivering a teasing kitten lick to his sensitive tip. he whined softly, hips twitching as his need for you increased tenfold. 

a slightly more sadistic side of you rather enjoyed watching him squirm. perhaps it was that hidden part of you that wanted nothing more than to tease him into oblivion with insubstantial caresses and borderline torturous kisses until he was writhing helplessly and there were tears spilling from those beautiful big brown eyes. 

however, a larger part of you craved the sight of his stunning, fucked out expression. the one where his face glistened with sweat, thick pink lips swollen and red from being ruthlessly and relentlessly attacked by those pearly whites, puppy dog eyes hooded and fluttering, fighting to remain open against his mind's desire to just melt completely into the pleasure coursing like hot lava through his veins. that was the face you wanted to see more than anything. 

a broken moan flooded from his gaping mouth as you fastened your lips around his tip, the taste of his salty precum immediately lathering your tongue. he trembled as you hummed lightly around him, mouth silently forming the words ‘oh god’ as the vibrations sent sparks of pleasure shooting through his body like static shock. 

“feels good, (y/n),” he whined weakly, stomach tensing, “feels so good.” 

your response was to thrust your head down and as much of him into your mouth as possible. he cried out, hips snapping up at the feeling of your gentle sucking. you were quick to pin them back down, a warning glare darkening your gaze. 

“‘m sorry—,” he slurred, panting heavily, “i’m sorry.” he was quick to submit, fighting against the painfully strong urge to fuck himself up into your warm mouth and forcing his quivering body to go pliant beneath your ministrations. satisfied for the time being, you dragged your tongue from his base to his weeping head, tracing slow, taunting circles over his most sensitive place. 

a broken moan was all he could manage as his cock twitched tellingly, precum spilling down his throbbing length. you fixed your lips back around his tip, sucking gently. his thighs trembled at the sensation it sent shooting through his veins, a breathless ‘oh’ pulsing from his pink-bitten lips. 

“(y/n)— (y/n), if you keep doing that—” the warning was clear, but you wanted to see just how close you could bring him to his release before stealing it away last second. it was always fun to watch how hard he came down from his high when he was denied of it. it was delicious, the way he gasped and trembled, shuddering hips desperately seeking out more frictions, but never receiving it. he was so cute when he got like that. 

“you gonna come, baby?” you cooed, replacing your mouth with your hand and shifting upwards so that you could look directly into his eyes. you wanted to be able to see the look in his pretty brown eyes when you stole away his release. he whimpered, head bobbing rapidly as he caught his lower lip between his teeth. 

“please.” 

you only offered a low, contemplative hum before a wicked smirk struck your features. “not yet.” 

a sob broke from his lips as you drew away from his throbbing dick, his high stolen only moments before it could come crashing down over him. his hips bucked, desperately seeking the friction you so cruelly denied him of, but finding nothing but empty air in place of your warm touch. his muscles trembled, broken pleas spilling from his quivering lips. 

“(y-y/n), no— please,” he gasped out, arms tugging against the sturdy binds, fingers aching to touch you, grab onto you, hold you. 

you hushed him with sweet words, pressing a soothing kiss to the cut of his jaw, hands massaging the bulk of his muscular thighs and holding still his stuttering hips. 

“fuck– i hate it when you do that.” he cursed weakly, glassy eyes peering up into yours. 

“no you don’t.” you chuckled softly, brushing his damp bangs out of his face in an unexpectedly tender gesture. 

“you’re right, i don’t.” he relented easily, the corners of his lips curling subtly. 

a sudden silence fell over you, and it took you a moment to realize that he was looking at you with those eyes— the ones you knew all too well. the ones you’d told him plenty of times to drop. because those weren’t the kind of eyes you were supposed to look at a fuck buddy with. those weren’t the kind of eyes that just anybody could be on the receiving end of, most definitely not you. 

“don’t look at me like that.” you warned, hardening your expression. 

“i can’t help it.” he breathed. you felt your stomach twist. damnit. 

“then close ‘em, Park. before I decide to blindfold you, too.” 

it seemed your threat wasn’t very well received, as the smile adorning his features only expanded, the corners of his eyes crinkling endearingly. 

“that doesn’t sound too bad.” 

a dry laugh burst from your lips. “god, you’re so fucking submissive. how has nobody else untangled your little ruse, hm? acting all big and tough on the outside when all you really want is to be tied up and fucked like a horny little bitch. am i really the only one that’s got you figured out?” you hummed thoughtfully, tracing your fingers down his throat and caressing his collarbone. 

“you’re the only one, (y/n).” 

for some reason… you had a strange feeling that that sentence held more meaning than you were willing to decipher.  

“you tell all your little side fucks that?” you taunted, disguising the slight tremor in your chest with a dangerous smirk. 

he shook his head, gaze not wavering for a moment. “there’s no one else. only you.” 

fuck. you needed him to stop talking. so, you did the one thing that always did the trick: shoving your fingers down his throat. he let out a muffled sound of surprise at the unexpected intrusion, a sound that easily melted into a low moan, his tongue immediately getting to work lapping at your digits. 

“you talk too much.” you murmured, taking him off guard and eliciting a low groan from the back of his throat as you ground yourself down on his naked length. “you came to get fucked, didn’t you, sweetheart?” 

he eagerly nodded his head, hips nudging up excitedly against your own. 

“thought so.” you chuckled. 

through wide, glassy eyes, Chanyeol watched you push yourself upright, straddling his thighs. just as he was about to ask what you were doing, you grabbed the hem of your tank top and peeled it off over your head, discarding it onto the floor, your pants fast to follow. 

“fuck. you’re so beautiful.” he groaned deeply, ravenous gaze raking over your nearly naked form. you smirked at him cockily. 

“i know.” 

a surprised laugh erupted from his lips at your blunt reply, eyes glinting with something akin to admiration. “as you should.” 

smiling to yourself, you swiftly climbed back on top of him, not wasting any time before grabbing hold of his throbbing dick. he let out a breath of appreciation at the contact, biting at the inside of his cheek. every muscle in his body tightened as you teasingly traced his tip over your clothed heat, his precum slickening the thin fabric. 

“are you wet?” he asked weakly, voice so airy and strained that you almost missed it. 

grinning devilishly, you toyed with the elastic. “do you wanna find out?” 

“yes,” he all but hissed out, muscular arms straining against their secure restraints, “fuck— yes, please.” 

“mmm, you sound so hot when you're desperate to get fucked.” you groaned softly, nudging your underwear to the side in order to slip his head through your hot arousal. he shuddered at the sensation, his pupils blown wide with lust as he watched you tease not only him but yourself as well with fleeting caresses of his needy length against your burning core. 

“(y/n).” his deep voice had become little more than a breathless whimper singed with molten desire. you felt your pulse jump at the very sound of it, your own want for him swelling with every passing second. 

Chanyeol let out a broken gasp as you sunk down on him, cursing weakly as you took him in inch by inch. a low hum vibrated on your lips at the blissful stretch, hot tendrils of pleasure igniting throughout your body. 

“sometimes i forget just how good you feel inside of me.” you breathed out heavily, peering down at his already fucked out expression with a coy smirk. 

“i could never forget.” he moaned, roughly biting his lower lip. a slow, deep grind of your hips had his head of unruly silver locks tossed back into the plush pillows, an unsteady groan of your name filling the hot, heavy air surrounding you. 

“fuck, go faster.” 

he realized his mistake only when your fingers were pressing into the length of his throat, all motion ceased. “is that how you ask for things?” you asked, voice dangerously calm. 

he was quick to shake his head, eager to right his wrong. “please. please go faster.” 

“that’s better.” 

a rough sob is pulled from his flushed throat (which you’re almost certain will be raw tomorrow morning) as you fuck yourself down onto him. the pace was fast, hungry, rough. his back bowing off the mattress, hips pulsing upward, desperate to meet each thrust half way. 

“(y/n),” you almost moaned at the sight of his body rolling beneath yours, muscles flexed and trembling, toned arms straining against the tight hold of his belt, the leather biting pretty red marks into his wrists, “i wanna touch you— please let me touch you. let me feel you, baby. you know i can make you feel good.”

his begging caused a playful grin to draw itself across your face. “should i?” you murmured thoughtfully, rolling your hips in slow, controlled circles. a low, throaty moan vibrated in your chest as he thrust himself up inside of you, just barely brushing over that perfect little spot. 

“i can be so good for you. please… let me be good for you, (y/n).” 

“well when you say it like that…” you sighed, feeling any remaining resolve come crumbling down. 

excitement ignited in his dark eyes, and he watched with bated breath as you reached up, getting to work on freeing him from the binds. 

the very moment the belt fell slack, releasing his hands, they were on your skin, eager and impatient, tugging you down into a heated kiss. it was messy and rough, all biting teeth and lashing tongues. not that you minded much, it was always fun reminding him who was in charge, one way or another. 

his wandering hands eagerly explored the expanse of your body, squeezing, pressing, pulling. and you let him have his fun, let him push the limits, testing your boundaries with every curious prod and trembling caress. 

it was only when you felt his fingers pressing into the swells of your ass and begin guiding your movements that you drew the line. it took all of a few seconds for you to have his wrists pinned down on either side of his head. 

you pulled away from his lips was a disappointed sigh, tongue clicking. “still no restraint, i see? i’m disappointed. i thought you said you’d be good for me, yeolie? was that good?” he all but whimpered, his head, too muddled from pleasure to form coherent words, shaking remorsefully. “no… that was very bad. bad boy, yeolie.” 

his dick throbbed so hard inside of you that you could’ve sworn he’d almost just come. 

a scoff of both amazement and disbelief escaped your lips. “you like being called a bad boy?” 

how ironic. 

color flushed into his cheeks, embarrassment shining in his big, glassy eyes that were now refusing to meet your gaze. 

“look at me.” 

he gasped as you purposely clenched around him, thrusting your hips back until he was balls deep, successfully forcing his attention onto your face. you grabbed his chin securely between your thumb and forefinger, and lowered your head to the point where your lips were just barely brushing over his. his pupils were blown and trembling as they met yours. 

“you wanna be my bad boy, baby?” 

his jaw fell open, a thunderous moan breaking from his chest. 

“yes.” 

“say it.” you all but growled, tone leaving no room for argument. 

at this point, he was too lost in his own desire to feel any real shame. 

“i wanna be your bad boy.” 

a triumphant smirk curled onto your face, and you rewarded him with a gentle kiss to his quivering lips. “you gonna come for me, bad boy?” he was already bobbing his head frantically before you’d even fully gotten the question out. you chuckled sadistically at his unabashed desperation. “should i let you?” 

“(y/n), please— i don’t think i can— fuck.” he panted out, voice shuddering and breaking as you fucked yourself down on him at just the right pace to keep him teetering dangerously on the edge without completely throwing him over. you bit your lip, pleasure exploding like firecrackers in your veins as he thrusted into you. fuck, if he didn’t stop hitting that spot… 

his hands curled into tight fists where they were pinned to the mattress, dull nails biting smooth crescents into his palm. noticing this, you took it upon yourself to weave your fingers through his, holding his hands in an unexpectedly tender display. only because you didn’t want him to accidentally hurt himself… that was all. 

but, perhaps it was a mistake. 

because that look returned to his eyes with vengeance, his features melting into bursting admiration and unspoken emotion. this time, you ignored it, too gone in your own pleasure to spare it a second thought. that’s what you convinced yourself of, anyways. 

he was pulsing intensely against your slick walls, twitching cock threatening to erupt at any given second. you could tell he was fighting to hold himself back, the veins in his throat growing prominent from the strenuous effort. it was admirable in a way, how desperately he wanted to please you, even if it meant denying himself of the greatest pleasure of all. you’d encountered very few men with that kind of will power. so you couldn’t help but to respect it when you saw it in Chanyeol. 

“you look like you’re about to explode.” you taunted breathlessly, lips pulled into a lust hazed smirk. “it’d be cruel of me to tell you to hold it, wouldn’t it?” 

he whimpered helplessly, obviously not sure which answer would satisfy you and which would coax you into further torturing his already wrecked body. 

you offered a rasping chuckled. “you’re lucky that i’m feeling rather generous today.” 

something between a sob and a moan are thrown past his lips as you slam yourself down on him, purposefully squeezing your walls around him. he cries out your name desperately, imploringly. you know he can’t hold back anymore, no matter how hard he tries. his body was going to come whether he liked it or not. you felt in the way he throbbed and twitched inside of you, heard it in the way he groaned and sighed, saw it in the way his eyes rolled, body shuddering uncontrollably. 

“come.” 

and he fucking did. 

his body stalled, back arching off the bad, hips sputtering up in sharp, quick thrusts, the sound of skin on skin contact resonating through the room. you cooed, relishing in the way he quivered and keener beneath you, mouth gaping silently for a few moments before growling moans finally broke through, rumbling so deep in his chest you could have easily mistaken it for thunder. 

you let him fill you up, painting your walls with his release, knowing damn well your intentions once he was finished. 

“that’s it, baby…” you cooed, releasing one of his clenched fists to caress his feverish face, tracing the lower line of his plump lip, swollen and red from his relentless biting. 

“oh! look at that. you made a mess, sweetheart.” you purred, smirking wickedly as you watched his arousal drip out of you and onto his now half hard cock. he moaned at the sight, cursing under his breath. “I think it’s only right if you clean it up.” 

his eyes snapped up to meet yours, excitement immediately burning with his hazy, blown pupils. that was your boy… always eager to clean up after himself. especially if it meant he could put his tongue and lips to proper use. 

“fuck. ride my face. wanna taste you. wanna make you come.” he groaned breathlessly, freed hands reaching down to grip at your thighs, tugging at them impatiently. 

you chuckled at how eager he was, happily obliging. you climbed up, repositioning yourself to hover over his flushed face, caging his head between your thighs. his fingers pressed into your hips, pulling you down and into reach of his greedy tongue. you couldn’t help the sigh that slid from your lips at the first contact, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his tongue dragging hungrily through your come soaked folds. 

“that’s right. eat your come, baby. lick it up.” you breathed out heavily, fingers weaving through his damp silver locks. 

he moaned against you, the vibrations sending chills rolling down your spine. it was like white hot electricity in your veins when he rolled his flattened tongue cover your clit, a sharp moan erupting from your throat. 

“fuck, just like that. right there.” you panted, hips grinding down against his skilled tongue. “you’re so fucking good with your mouth, yeol.” his determination spiked at the praise, lips encircling your clit and sucking purposefully. 

pure euphoria rushed through your veins, head falling back as your grip on his hair tightened. his rapacious hands danced across your body, fingers pressing hotly into your skin, obviously not having learned his lesson the first time around. though, you weren’t too keen on correcting him. especially not with the fire his touch was igniting across your body. 

your hips stuttered as his tongue pressed inside of you, lapping at you hungrily. “tastes… so good…” he groaned brokenly against your arousal, hooded eyes devouring the sight of you falling apart above him. 

if there was one thing Park Chanyeol loved– it was being the cause of your pleasure. 

snagging your lip roughly between your teeth, you meet his searing gaze, your walls clenching around his invading tongue at the almost unbearable intensity of it. 

“you like it?” you moaned, feeling yourself begin to climb your way towards release. he nuzzled against you, nose pressing against your clit as his tongue teased your entrance. 

god… if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was trying to suffocate himself. knowing Chanyeol, he’d probably consider it the perfect way to go. perhaps you would have laughed at the thought had it not been for the molten pleasure numbing your mind and senses.

“i’m gonna come.” 

at your breathless declaration, Chanyeol is quickly replacing his tongue with two of his fingers, fucking them up into you steadily while his mouth gets to work on your clit. it feels so good… you’re numb to pretty much everything else but the feeling of him, the sight of him. 

and you find it’s just that that finally sends you tumbling over that ledge: the sight of those beautiful brown eyes, dark and eager, burning with unspoken emotion, pooling with crimson seduction. he’s breathtaking. 

you shift off of his face carefully, a hazy, satisfied smirk settling across your face. 

“what a filthy boy.” you purr softly, more so to yourself than him, delighting in the sight of his face, glistening from a mixture of both his and your own release. his lips curl upwards at the corners, sinful tongue peeking out to drag over them and savor the lingering taste of you, a low hum of appreciation rumbling deep in his chest.  

his hands don’t leave your hips as you carefully lift yourself off of him, offering some much needed support for your still shaky legs. you flop down on the mattress beside him with a soft ‘oof’ and shut your eyes, taking a moment to catch your breath and gather your scattered wits. a few moments of silence pass, before your brow twitched in irritation. 

“stop staring before i smack you.” even with your eyes closed, you can feel the heat of his gaze on the side of your face. 

he chuckled unabashedly, not all too torn up about being caught. “sorry. i can’t help myself,” he paused, “you’re just so beautiful like this.” 

sighing, you roll your head to the side, eyes fluttering open to meet his. “what’d i say about calling me beautiful?”  

he pouts, looking like a scolded puppy. “not to say it after sex.” 

“that’s right.”

“but it’s the truth!” 

“Chanyeol.” you groan, throwing an arm over your face. 

he huffs in annoyance rolling onto his side and propping his head up on his palm. “what’s so wrong with me saying that you're beautiful?” 

“you know exactly what’s wrong with it.” you grumble, shooting him a pointed glare, one he is quick to return. rolling your eyes, you turn away from him. “i’m too fucked out to try and argue with you right now so can you just drop it?”  

one of his arms snakes over your waist, and you inhaled sharply in surprise as he tugged you into his chest. 

“Chanyeol—”

he was quick to disregard your warning tone, nuzzling his face into your neck. “i like to cuddle.” 

“you know—” you began, scowling as he cut you off a second time. 

“i know what we agreed to but come on… a few minutes won’t kill you.” he grumbled, low voice raspy with exhaustion. 

the slight tightening of his hold around you told you that he had no intention of letting go any time soon. your features twisted into a scowl, eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling. 

but your resolve to remain unphased wavered. 

because, for a moment, you let yourself feel the warmth of his body against yours, allowing yourself to melt into it. it was a strange sensation, the comfort it brought you… the security. perhaps it was the aftermath of your orgasm. or maybe the exhaustion from a stressful week. or maybe something else entirely… regardless, you found yourself relaxing into him, into his hold, into his warmth. it wasn’t something you could really control. and even if you could, you weren’t sure if you would do anything different. 

minutes passed. maybe two. maybe five. maybe twenty. you weren’t really sure. you could hear the muffled music still pumping through the speakers somewhere downstairs. dull footsteps and low voices passing outside the door every now and again. the soft glow from the still candle flickered soothingly over the pale walls. 

a strange sense of calm had settled over you at some point. you weren’t sure quite when. all you knew was that if you listened hard enough, you could almost hear the steady beating of Chanyeol’s heart. his breathing had become slow and heavy, warming the side of your face with every exhale. 

“are you…” you swallowed, throat unexpectedly dry, “are you asleep?” 

you were met with silence. 

sucking your lips into your mouth, you slowly turned your head. your heart faltered in your chest. “geez.” you muttered softly, a faint smile touching your lips. 

he was knocked out cold, cheek smooshed up against the pillow, lips parted and puckered out, hair cast across the white pillowcase, a few locks stuck on his eyelashes. you lifted your hand carefully, gently brushing the silver strands out of his face. your fingers lingered on his skin, caressing ever so lightly over his cheek and jaw. 

“beautiful.” 

it took you a moment to realize that that word had just come from your lips. you jerked away like you’d been stung, eyes wide, and heart suddenly racing. 

shit. 

you were so fucked.

[jadedxrealityw]

-Where Was She?- George Weasley x Female Reader

☼-☪-☼

   Summary:  Taking a trip through Diagon Alley to help your nephew pick out robes and books for her first day at Hogwarts should of been uneventful, and it was until your niece was very excited to look inside a colorful shop, with a ginger with a top hat on top. 

   Kody: Ha, it rhymes. I am just hilarious. Also i’m giving them names, cause i can and if i don’t i’ll get confused lmao. Also changing some plot for this story lol. 

   House: Ex- Gryffindor / Half blood

   Possible Triggers / Warnings: cursing, George being a simp, Fred being utterly confused half the time, that good fluff

    ☼-☪-☼

    you were currently stirring a bowl of cupcake batter when the house phone rang. In a quick haste, you drop the whisk in the sink and ran over to the living room and towards the house phone. You pick it up and press and the call button before holding it up to your ear.

   “L/n residence. Who am i speaking to?” you ask in a polite manner as you wiped your hand on the pink apron you wore. “Hey Y/n, it’s me Kai. So i just got a last minute meeting and i won’t be able to take Aedyn to diagon alley to get his books, robes and such. I have money to give you and such”

    you could hear the irritation in his voice, he hated missing important memory making moments with his son, but he really needed the money considering his wife dipped when Aedyn was born. You smile lightly, having not been back to Diagon Alley in year since you graduated. You missed it.

    “no problem, i’ll make sure to take a ton of pictures for you. Don’t worry about it, i get to see some of my old classmates and i’m fine with paying- “ “-no Y/n, i’m paying” Kai tried to interject, but you made screeching noise with your mouth. “Sorry, can’t hear you. Your cutting out. Love you!” you quickly hung up.

       ☼-☪-☼

    the day had arrived and you wore a black turtleneck with a burnt orange button up as well as black pants. You had just arrived to Diagon Alley with Aedyn and he seemed a bit upset. “hey dude, you alright?” you asked, nudging his shoulder with your arm. He shrugged, looking ahead.

    “i just thought that dad would take me shopping, i know he isn’t a wizard or anything. It’s just-” you stop walking and crouch down to height “Yeah i get it, i loved going to Diagon Alley with my parents, but let’s make the most out of this yeah? Your witchy aunt has got your back!”

   your enthusiasm seemed to cheer him up as the corners of his mouth turned up “Okay, the first thing on the list is robes” he says, pulling a sheet of folded up paper from his back pocket. You smile and stand back up “Robes it is, onwards my dear nephew” 

    ☼-☪-☼

    after buying about three sets of robes as well as uniform shirts and pants, you both went to get textbooks, which was super boring. Once you had finished stacking all the textbooks, you held them all by a string. Aedyn didn’t seem to want a animal, you didn’t either when you attended Hogwarts.

   as you walked with Aedyn, you felt a tug on your sleeve “Oh, can we go in there!” he says, you look to where he was pointing and saw a shop decorated in orange and hints of purple. Looking up, you saw a statue picking up it’s top hat. Oh. OH. “the weasleys wizard wheezes?” you ask, looking down at him.

    he met your gaze and tilts his head “Have you been there before?” he questions and you nod your head once “Yeah. Once. It was when it first opened though, so it may have changed” you spoke, shrugging it off. You grab his head and walk into the colorful shop.

    how much has changed?

    as you step in, your almost overwhelmed by the variety of things in the shop. It really didn’t change much. There were kids running around and parents who seemed displeased at there kids dashing through the place. A feeling of nostalgia ran through you.

    “Aedyn!”

    “Luke!”

     your nephew turns up to look at you “Can me and luke check out the shop together?” he asked eagerly, making you chuckle. You nod once and both of the boys run off. You sigh contently and place the textbooks down near the umbrella holder. Stuffing your hands in your pocket, you began to casually stroll around.

    the Weasley’s wizard wheezes. What a cool place. “Welcome miss. First time?” you turn to face one of the ginger haired twins in the flesh, wearing a orange sweater and beige pants. George Weasley. you give him a polite smile, collecting yourself quickly. 

    “Thank you. Um- no not my first time. I came here with Hermione Granger when you guys first opened.” you explain, tapping your foot on the ground. He raises a brow. You seemed to have spiked his interest “You know Hermione? How come i’ve never seen you before?”

   you shrug your shoulders, making a clueless face. “I’ve been told i blend into the background, so that could be why” you say. He steps closer to you, analyzing your face “How could i have missed you? Were you on any teams?” guess you were playing twenty questions now.

    you stifle a laugh as you began to walk around once more, the twin sticking to your side “No, i never liked attention. I did watch all the quidditch tournaments- Oh! I started the weakly quidditch magazine for the school” you say, thinking he remember seeing it somewhere or maybe he had read it before?

    you watch his honey colored eyes light up “Oh! yeah i read that. Wait- if i remember correctly you wrote one just about me” his smile turned into a grin. Oh how embarrassing. You chuckle bashfully as you use your hand to cover your mouth for a second “Yes. I did. You were a quidditch heartthrob. It sold well”

    you hear him gasp loudly and watch as he places a hand over his chest, where his heart was “You used my face to sell magazines?” he said. Wait a minute. “How do you know i put your face in the article?” you question, your own grin forming. A bashful smile makes a way onto his face.

    “I bought one for myself” he spoke and you burst into a fit of laughter at his confession “Oh wow, Mr. Weasley” you say, joking with the formality. You both were now making your way back to the entrance, where you two had started your journey in the first place.

    “Just call me George.”

   you two then talked for what felt like hours, but in reality it was twenty minutes. You both had a lot of common interest and soon enough. The Weasley started to flirt with you. It was playful and cute and you found it adorable coming from him. As he reached to push a strand of hair from your face and loud shout was heard.

    “Were late! We are so late!” Aedyn came running from the top story of the shop “Dad said to be home an hour ago!” and with that he ran out the shop. You E/c eyes widen. Oh shit. You quickly grab up the textbooks, a confused George staring at you. “Wait, your leaving?”

   “Yes” you force out as you quickly rushed out the shop, George following. He stops in front and watches as you run away “When can i see you again?!- What’s your name?!” he shouts, catching the attention of a few wizards and witches passing by. 

   you give him a quick smile before you turn the corner, leaving his sight completely. What’s the fun in that right?

    ☼-☪-☼

    “Hey George. I’m back!” Fred Weasley called out from the shared home. He raised a brow when there was no answer and walked down the hallway, he turns the handle of Georges room and pushes the door open. He sees boxes scattered everywhere. 

    George was sitting on the floor, looking through stacks of old school papers “What in the bloody hell is going on?” Fred asked, looking a his brother strangely. George snaps his head towards his brother and stands up quickly. “Do you remember the weakly quidditch magazine?”

    “Yes?”

    “Do you know where i kept the one written about me?”

    “Yes”

    “Where is it?”

    “...I’ll be right back”

    Fred left the room and returned a couple minutes later with an tattered magazine “Your article is on page 5-” George ripped the magazine from his brothers hand and began to turn the pages rapidly “Okay then” Fred walks over to sit on George’s bed.

    “Found it! When George Weasley isn’t pulling pranks. He is expertly playing the quidditch field, just like yesterday's game. Taking out both Ravenclaw beaters at the same time. Charming, good looking, funny, and skilled. No wonder the girl’s of Hogwarts are fawning over Gryffindors beater. -Y/n L/n”

    George smiled brightly “Y/n L/n, that’s her name..She called me good looking. Where was she when i was at Hogwarts?” he gushed, making Fred roll his eyes “Your talking about Y/n? How is she doing, heard her nephew is starting Hogwarts soon. I was supposed to meet her today, but i got caught up”

     George’s head snapped like an owl towards his brother “You know her? Did you sleep with her Freddy? You horny bastard. You just had to sleep with half of the girls at Hogwarts didn’t you? Couldn’t leave anyone for me? First Lavender brown then Hermione Granger, now Y/n. What the hell man?”

    Fred waited for his brother to stop talking with a irritated expression “First of all. I didn’t sleep with her. Second of all, we kept in touch because i thanked her for writing an article about me, like she did for you. Also! You didn’t notice her, because your fucking stupid. I’m making dinner” he announced.

    he stood from the bed and walked out the room. George pouted “Can we have mac and cheese?!”

    “No!........Okay fine!” 

        ☼-☪-☼

    fast forward to about two weeks and Aedyns birthday was coming up. He had taken a liking to quidditch and you wanted to get him a new broom. It was a bit chilly outside so you decided on black high waisted skin tight jeans, a light grey long sleeve t-shirt, and a heather grey and a charcoal colored button up. 

    “Quality Quidditch Supplies” you read out loud, this was definitely the place where she saw kids get brooms.  You step in and began to look around at the broom’s, wondering which was a good fit for your nephew. You were looking at the Nimbus collection when a ginger haired boy jumps out from behind it.

    you jump back a bit “George?! What the hell. You almost gave me a heart attack!” you shout. He smiles nervously “So after our last encounter, i found that article you wrote about me” he spoke. You rolled your eyes and began to look at the broom’s once again “Okay” you said plainly. 

    “You said i was good looking and charming. Y/n L/n” he says, a twinkle of pride in his eye. “Your also friends with my brother and didn’t tell me” he said, that pride turning into slight jealousy.”You didn’t ask” you said simply said, his eye twitched in irritation.

    “Anyway, i was wondering if you could go out with me- like on date. Next saturday?” he says, you saw the hopeful look in his eyes as you looked from the broom to him. Aw. “No” you said, waiting to see his reaction. He blinks mindlessly for a couple of seconds “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have asked-”

    “-I have to watch a quidditch match. It’s my job for the witch weekly. i report for the local matches. I would love to go some other time” you say, giving him a genuine smile. He rubs the back of his neck “That’s the only time i’m free this mouth! Oh how ‘bout i go with you?” he asked. 

    you shrugged “I’m okay with that. I’ll be distracted half the time though” you explain. He smiles happily “Wicked. Plus, i’d like to see you all focused. I bet it’s cute” he said, leaning in close, his hand placed on the shelf above your head. There goes the flirting again.   

    you pretend to not have heard him and reach into your pocket for a piece of paper and pen. He tilts his head curiously  and tries to read what you were writing, but you shielded him away with your hand. “What’re?-” he was cut off when you walked passed him and grabbed a Nimbus infinity.

    you walk up to the counter and pay for the broom. It was quite costly, but you didn’t mind. George followed like a lost puppy, until you both made it outside. You turn around and hand him the paper. George grabs the note and reads an address? “What is this?” he asked. Boys are so dumb.

    “Write me sometime, Weasley. I’ll see you on saturday” with those parting words, you turn on your heels and began to walk away with a sway of your hips. George sighed deeply as a warm feeling invaded in every being “Merlin. Fred was right. I’m whipped.”

    ☼-☪-☼

    the week spent apart was quite wholesome. George wrote you kind letters, sometimes flirty ones and send you small treats within them. Once he sent a pressed flower, a marigold. You didn’t think he have such a soft side to him. Each day a new letter came and you grew to like the Weasley boy more and more.

    the day had finally arrived when you would be attending the quidditch match. You wore a black turtleneck and heather grey pants, paired with regular sneakers. You were waiting at the entrance for the weasley boy, looking up t the sky. It looked like it was about to storm. Hopefully it would clear up soon. 

    “Hey!” a bright cheery voice shouted. You look back down to see George coming up to you. His shoulder length hair was tied back in a ponytail, with loose strands framing his face. He wore a burnt orange sweater with white and brown plaid pants. Style.

    you smile lightly and nod your head towards him “Hello” you spoke and watch as his honey colored eyes gazed at your outfit “Your looking ravishing, per usual” his comment made you snort. You shake your head and wave your hand “C’mon. I have front row seats” you say, making his eyes go wide.

    “Woah! Really!?”

    ☼-☪-☼

    you both were seated in the bleachers with an amazing view of the game. You took out a notepad along with a pen, getting ready to take notes. George watched you as the game started. You bit your bottom lip when you were ‘in the zone’ as you would call it. George would call it cute. 

    the match was highly eventful and George had a wonderful time watching, especially the small breaks when you would talk to him. He would occasionally feed you popcorn as your wrote. Gotta make sure you were fed. You secretly liked it. 

     the match came to an end when one of the teams caught the snitch and the crowd roared in applause and boos. George stood up, cheering while you politely stood alongside him, clapping your hands. The cheers began to die down as heavy rain poured out of nowhere.

    people began to scramble out of the bleachers like ants so they could apparate out of there. You look at George who’s hair was damp, strands of ginger hair sticking to the side of his face. he was just staring at you “What?” you call out over the loud sounds of the rain.

    “I had a great time. I wish i had met you in Hogwarts so i could of had a cool girlfriend writing articles about me. Is it okay if i make up for lost time?” he said, your heart melting a his words. How smooth. A smile grew on your face “i’d love that” you said and that was all George needed.

    he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in for a deep kiss. Rain came down on both of you and your notes were most likely destroyed, but you were too in the moment to care. You two eventually left the bleachers and apparated to your place where you gave him a change of clothes and hot tea.

    the day ended with you two cuddled up on your couch, next to the fireplace and it couldn’t be more perfect.

   ☼-☪-☼

    Kody: the sheer amount of writers block this shit gave me was insane. Anyways, peace. 

   ☼-☪-☼

    Taglist: 

@the--queen-of-hell

@sonbelleame

@moonpi3

@dracosathenaeum

[mldrgrl]

How Stella Got Her Groove Back

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13 Summary: Just a little something to celebrate spring...and Stella’s birthday!

They left Connecticut in September, with a fair amount of reluctance to go, but they needed to return to the city.  Becca had already gone and though both Karen and Fish insisted they were welcome to stay longer, stay forever if they had to, at a certain point, Hank and Stella had just been missing their loft and their life in New York too much.  Of course, they knew that what they were returning to was not the life they were accustomed to, but they would have to learn to adapt to the new normal.

Winter was long and brutal.  They did spend two weeks over Christmas and New Years back in Connecticut again and that was the first time they’d seen Becca since July, and the last time they would see her until spring.  Karen had tried to coerce them all to stay again and Hank and Stella nearly gave in.  If not for the fact that Stella left a project behind she’d been working on for her classes and if Hank had brought the pages he’d been working on for his new novel, they just might have done it.

When they got back to New York, and in a cabin fever-induced moment of weakness, they hired a landscape architect to design their rooftop terrace and though the noise of construction aggravated the hell out of both of them, they were both pleased with the results.  They now had an artificial lawn of soft green turf, an outdoor patio daybed in the shape of a cube with canvas shades on all four sides, a wet bar, strategically placed heating lamps, and a wood burning fire pit.  Unbeknownst to them, when Fish had heard their plans, he’d called the company they hired, ordered them a charcoal grill, and told the contractor to keep it a surprise.  They were very surprised by the barbeque that was suddenly part of the design, but it looked nice, even if it wouldn’t get any use.

Finding ways to fill the time with nowhere to go and no one to see was extremely difficult.  Neither of them were very much into television or movies.  The terrace, as welcome as it was, wasn’t finished until the end of February.  Stella had the classes she was teaching and the child psychology classes she was enrolled in to keep her fairly busy during the days, but Hank could only write for so many hours at a time and he found that he actually missed helping Fish with the guitar lessons.  He grumbled to Stella that ‘that damn Trout’ bewitched him somehow and then begrudgingly called him up and asked if he could still help out remotely.  Fish was delighted by the request and sent him an iPad and a teaching schedule.  

The close quarters had caused a few squabbles, though nothing major.  They took a few online cooking classes together which produced some mediocre meals and a testy exchange on the appropriate amount that constituted a ‘pinch of salt.’  Beyond that, they managed not to take out any frustrations on each other.

It was April 1st when Stella wandered from the bathroom to the bedroom in her t-shirt and sweatpants, rubbing lotion into her hands and arms.  Hank was in bed, perhaps naked, or perhaps wearing jockey shorts, she couldn’t be sure.  He had his guitar across his lap and his head back so that he gazed at the ceiling while he plucked lightly at the strings.

“Hank,” she said, leaning into the foot of the bed with slightly bended knees.

“Do you think ‘oral’ actually rhymes with ‘clorital’ or is it cheating?” he replied.

“You know that next week is my birthday.”

Hank splayed his hand out on the guitar and looked at her.  “Is this a trick question?”

“Not at all.”

“So, if I say ‘yes, of course, your birthday is April 7th and I already know I’m not to mention it to anyone,’ is that the wrong answer because I’m not supposed to acknowledge it in the first place?”

“I am aware that in the past I have requested that my birthday be treated as any other day.”

“Mmhm.”

“I’ve been thinking that perhaps...I might like to celebrate this year after all.”

“Oh, I get it.  April fools.  You could’ve just put plastic wrap on the toilet or secretly replaced my regular coffee with Folgers.”

“I’m serious.”

“Ah, so the one year it’s impossible to throw a party, you want to have a party?”

“God, no.  Parties are awful.”

“Well, what then?”

“Brunch?  With Becca?  This weekend, or the next, perhaps.  There are more places opening up now.  We could-”

“Absolutely, Sherlock.  Whatever the suggestion, I am all in.”  He pushed his guitar aside and she was mildly disappointed to discover that he was in his jockey shorts after all and not naked. He scooted forward to the end of the bed and wrapped his arms around her hips.

“A walk in the park, maybe?”

“Not sure if my legs remember what walking is at this point, so it’ll be good to remind them.”  He moved his hands down to the backs of her thighs and gave them a squeeze and then cupped her ass.  “Why the sudden change of heart, Sherlock?”

“I’ve just been thinking lately that it’s perfectly acceptable to want to celebrate being alive.  After the year we’ve had.”

“I agree, but as long as I get to have my breakfast in bed in bed that day, I’ll be happy.”

“It’s my birthday, I’m not bringing you breakfast in bed.”

“Oh, honey, you are the breakfast,” he growled, wrapping his arms around her again and pulling her into him as he fell back onto the bed.

*****

The Saturday before her birthday was Easter weekend.  There was no rain in the forecast and Becca was available, so it was perfect.  They took a Lyft to the upper west side and met her at a French bistro that had outdoor seating.  Stella could tell right away that something was bothering Becca, that she was putting on a false front of cheerfulness, which was very unlike her, but if she did know her stepdaughter, she knew the girl could not keep up pretenses for long.

They ordered and waited for their food over bottomless mimosas and miniature ham and cheese croissants served as an appetizer.  It wasn’t cold, but a cool breeze would drift by every so often and Stella was glad she had left her hair down so that her ears were covered.  She wished she’d been a bit more practical though and worn pants.  She’d just felt like dressing up and at the last minute, put on an olive-colored dress with small printed white flowers on it, but at least it was long-sleeved and she had a white sweater.  Becca and Hank were like twins in their matching leather jackets and dark jeans.

“Are you working on anything?” Becca asked Hank.

“Almost finished,” he answered.

“Oh.  What’s it about?”

“A couple that’s been married for fifteen years, but they’re on the brink of the divorce when the pandemic hits and then they go from spending almost no time together to all of their time together and it’s disastrous at first, but then they end up learning a lot about each other.”

“So, they save their marriage?”

“No, they end up getting divorced anyway.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“It’s fiction, sweetheart.”

“People like happy endings.”

“People are stupid.  I didn’t say it didn’t have a happy ending though.  Are you working on anything, Daughter?”

Becca sighed and picked at her nails.  Stella put a hand on Hank’s knee under the table.

“Is something bothering you, Darling?” Stella asked.

“No.  Yeah.  No.  I don’t wanna ruin your birthday or anything when it’s the first birthday we’ve ever celebrated together.”

Stella gave Becca a brief smile.  “I don’t know if your father has told you why I’ve always been rather reluctant to celebrate my birthday.”

Becca shook her head.  Hank stretched his arm out behind Stella’s chair and put his hand on her back.  She gave his knee a squeeze of appreciation.

“My father passed away on my fourteenth birthday,” Stella said.  “So, Darling, you have a high bar to overcome if you think being in a low mood will ruin my birthday.”

“That sucks about your dad, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”  Stella looked to Hank for a moment and then back to Becca.  “I’ve spent many years trying to ignore the date as though if I didn’t acknowledge it, it’s like it had never happened.  I don’t think I really understood until quite recently that one is capable of being sad and grateful at the same time.  And that life should be celebrated.  Especially now.”

“I guess I’m just...when we were up at Mom’s house, everything was so easy and nice and I had a really hard time writing.  That’s why I wanted to leave.  It was way too peaceful.”

“You know if I had a dollar for every time Becca claimed my shit was fucking her up, I’d be richer than that fucking Amazon guy, and now it sounds like she wants to file a grievance that we’re not fucking her up enough.”

“Am not.”  Becca rolled her eyes.

“Don’t listen to him,” Stella said.  “He’s been so mired with boredom lately he has regular calls with Fish.”

“No!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Hank protested, putting his hands up in defense.  “There was and will only be one bromance in my life and that’s with one Mr. Charles Runkle, that follically challenged motherfucker.  No better pairing existed except for maybe Bert and Ernie, or Sid and Nancy.”

“I think we should let Becca continue with what she was trying to say.”

“Thank you.”  Becca put her hand up as though she was blocking Hank from her view and he reached over and slapped her palm away.  “As I was saying, I left because I thought the serenity was blocking me in some way, but since I’ve been back, it’s like the opposite.  It felt so apocalyptic at first and desperate.  It was like impossible to sit down and put words together when there were so many shitty things happening outside.  What if...what if the next thing I finish, people will be like oh, she was just sitting inside writing while everyone else was dying?”

“There will always be shitty things happening outside,” Hank said.  

“Great advice, Dad.”

“I don’t mean to bitchslap you with reality, but the world being shitty isn’t a reason to give up.”

“I’m not giving up.”

“Good, because you are way more fucking talented than I could ever even hope to be.”

“I just don’t know if it matters.  If anyone should care.”

“Why should you concern yourself with that?”

Becca glared at Hank, clearly annoyed with the answer.

“I know you think I’m being facetious,” Hank said, quickly.  “But, I’m not.  If all anyone wanted to read was about things that ‘mattered’ that 50 Shades of Hot Garbage would never have sold a single copy.  You don’t know why people read what you write.  Maybe they want to escape the shitty things happening in the world.  Maybe they want to laugh or cry or be turned on.  Maybe they just need something to pass the time.”

“Five minutes ago you just said people were stupid for wanting happy endings, now you’re saying I should just give them garbage, if that’s what they want.”

“Yeah, I’m a fucking hypocrite, what else is new, but I just want you to be happy with what you’re doing.  You want me to buy you a new laptop?”

“I’m not twelve anymore.  You can’t just buy my happiness.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Becca,” Stella finally interjected.  “I think it’s obvious by now that your father may possibly be the world’s worst motivational speaker.”

“Or the world’s best unmotivational speaker,” Hank said.  “You see what I did there?  I turned a negative into a positive.”

Both Stella and Becca ignored the comment.

“I think I may understand what he’s trying to say though,” Stella said.  “I’m not a creator, but I’ve been a consumer.  When I was reading for pleasure, I certainly wasn’t reaching for mystery novels.  And I think that...popularity and quality are two different things.  Certainly, one would hope for both, but it isn’t always the case.  I know you and I know that quality is important to you, so perhaps you should only focus on if what you’re working on is the best that it can be and not on whether or not it matters.”

“Can I add something to that?” Hank asked.

“Not if you plan on fucking up everything Stella just said,” Becca answered.

“I’ve done at least a dozen online events this year and at every single one, someone has asked me when the next Rebecca Moody novel is going to be released or they want to know what you’re working on.  I’m not even entirely sure all of them are there to hear my Q&A or if they just showed up because they know I’m your dad and they think you might make a guest appearance.  And if one person takes umbrage with you for creating something during a time of utter hell, fuck them.”

“Without art, the crudeness of reality would make the world unbearable,” Stella quoted.

“That sounds so much hotter when you say it than George Bernard Shaw,” Hank replied, rubbing his hand across Stella’s upper back.

“Okay, I don’t want to spend this day being miserable,” Becca said, shaking her head and shoulders like she was trying to rid herself of negativity.  “Thank you, Stella.”

“You’re welcome, darling girl.”

“Hey, what about me?” Hank asked.

“There is this jacket I saw online that I want,” Becca answered, cheekily raising one of her eyebrows and tilting her head.

“I’ll text you my credit card number later.”

“Thank you, Father.”

*****

Brunch was followed by a stroll in Central Park and it seemed that at least half of the city had the same idea.  It was interesting being in a place so crowded and yet also so open.  The decent weather and the cherry blossoms in full bloom probably had something to do with it.  What also would have felt strange a year ago, seeing everyone wearing face masks and wearing them as well, was oddly comforting.  When Stella had put hers on that morning before they walked out the door, Hank told her she looked like a sexy brain surgeon or cardiologist, whichever one was smarter or made more money.

When they came upon Bethesda Fountain, there was a small band playing salsa music and a few couples dancing.  Hank tried to imitate the steps and then grabbed Becca’s hand and spun her around under his arm.  She laughed and tried to break free of him, but he pulled her back in and tried to get her to dance.

“Da-ad,” Becca protested.

“Dance with me, Daughter.”

“I don’t dance.”

“You’re no fun.”  Hank let go of Becca’s hand and then grabbed Stella’s.

“Oh, no,” she said.

“Come on, Sherlock.  I know you’ve probably got some moves I’ve never seen.”

“I assure you that’s not true,” she answered, letting him spin her away though and then laughed as he gyrated his hips dramatically as he stepped back towards her.  “Whatever it is that you’re doing does not resemble the salsa in any way.”

“Let me see you do better.”

Stella looked past Hank to the other dancers and mimicked the forward and back steps.  She put a hand on Hank’s chest to keep him at arm’s length and prevent their knees from colliding as he tried to fall into the same step with her, moving forward when she stepped back, and back when she stepped forward.  What he lacked in grace, he made up for with enthusiasm.  As soon as they fell into sync, he grabbed her hand and lifted her other arm in a more formal dance frame like the other dancers had.

What followed was probably the worst and most amateurish version of a salsa that had ever been danced, but Stella laughed so hard it brought tears to her eyes.  When the music ended, Hank stopped and pulled Stella’s face mask down under her chin before lowering his own and then kissing her through both of their laughter.

The dancing couples broke apart and drifted back into the crowd.  Becca went over and dropped some money into the cup on the ground in front of the band and thanked them for playing.  Stella took Hank’s hand and then Becca linked her arm with Stella’s as they continued on.

Later that night, when Stella came out of the bathroom as she rubbed lotion into her hands and arms, she stopped at the foot of the bed and watched Hank read over the latest pages of his novel.  When she was finished, she climbed onto the bed and walked over to Hank on her knees until she was straddling his lap.  He threw his pages down, took his reading glasses off, and pulled her close with his hands on her ass.

“Thank you,” Stella said, as Hank kissed the side of her neck.

“For what?”

“This truly was the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

“Your birthday’s not until Wednesday.”

“Perhaps next year we’ll even be able to invite Karen and Fish to town.”

“We’ll make The Trout christen that barbeque he forced on us.”

“It does look nice though.”

“It really does.  You want your present now, or should I wait until Wednesday?”

“I might be interested in a preview,” she said, sliding her hand down his chest and then into his shorts.  “A little peak at the package ahead of time.”

“You just assumed I was talking about fucking when I said I had something for you?”

“Weren’t you?”

Hank paused and then grinned.  “Yeah, I was.”

The End

[crazy4dragons]

Fifteen (Part 2)

Hiccup is afraid to give Astrid her birthday gift. Part 2 to the prompt sent by @drakaina-amore64! Mostly Hiccup-centric with a bit of Hiccstrid. Part 1 found here. Rating: G. 

The morning of Astrid’s birthday, Hiccup trudged downstairs, eyelids heavy from lack of sleep. That week, he’d worked on Astrid’s gift every spare moment he got and pulled an all-nighter or two, but the book was finally finished, and just in time for the celebration at the Great Hall.

“There ye are, son. I’m heading out to help the Hoffersons set up for Astrid’s party,” Stoick announced as he grabbed his axe. He never left the house without a weapon, even to attend an event as innocent as a birthday celebration.

“I’ll be over in a while,” yawned Hiccup, shuffling into the kitchen and rummaging through a cabinet in search of tea.

“Alright. Just don’t be too late. You’ll miss out on brunch.”

Hiccup responded with a silent nod. The truth was that he didn’t care about brunch. In fact, he wanted to spend the least amount of time possible at the party. He didn’t have any friends on Berk. Fishlegs was the only one who willingly spoke to him, and that was only on rare occasions. Even Snotlout, who was his cousin, hardly said a word to him. And he wasn’t even sure that Astrid wanted him at her party. It wasn’t like they ever hung out anymore.

Nevertheless, he boiled water and prepared a cup of tea to drink while he got ready. Chamomile tea, that would hopefully help to ease the knot in his stomach. Gods, anxiety was certainly his worst enemy, always bothering him at the most inconvenient times. He wished he wasn’t so awkward, and that he could just fit in with the rest of the teens for once. But that would never happen. And having to gift Astrid the book that he’d worked so hard to make didn’t put him at ease, either. What if she hated it? What if she laughed at him in front of everyone? What if she took it the wrong way and punched him in the nose for “flirting” with her?

There was so much that could go wrong, and Hiccup wasn’t prepared for any of it. But knowing he had to swallow his fear and show up to the party, as his absence might have even more dire consequences than his presence, he put on his good tunic, washed his face, and ran a comb through his hair. Then, grabbing Astrid’s gift and placing it in his satchel, he hesitantly left the house and dragged himself to the Great Hall.

“Hiccup!” Stoick exclaimed. “You’re just in time. Here, help me with these tablecloths.”

Hiccup silently helped his father prepare the tables, then snuck into a corner and pulled charcoal and a blank sheet of parchment from his bag. He began to draw, hardly taking note of the crowd forming in the room until he heard Astrid’s arrival announced.

“It is my pleasure as Chief, to present our guest of honor today,” Stoick began. “Astrid Hofferson!”

Looking up, Hiccup caught sight of Astrid entering through the doors, her usual battle attire traded for a pale blue dress with navy leggings underneath. Her hair was in a ponytail instead of a braid, but her unruly bangs still half-concealed her cold eyes. Her lips were pursed together in a thin line, but he couldn’t tell if it was because she was nervous, or if it was a purposeful demonstration of her fierce demeanor. But despite her harsh expression, he thought she was more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.

The crowd cheered, and several of the younger Vikings rushed over to greet her. Hiccup watched as Snotlout draped an arm across her shoulders, which Astrid promptly pushed away before punching him in the chest.

When brunch was served, Hiccup shyly made his way through the crowd and found a seat beside Stoick and Gobber.

“Yer not goin’ to eat with the other children, eh?” Gobber asked, nodding towards the nearby table where the rest of the teens were digging into their toast and eggs.

Hiccup shook his head. “Why should I? They barely speak to me.”

“I don’t know. Just thought ye might want to get to know them a bit more, maybe make a friend or two. And, of course, get close to Miss Hofferson there.” Although Gobber lowered his voice at the last bit, his statement still make the boy blush.

“I’ll stay here,” decided Hiccup, breaking off a small piece of his muffin and bringing it to his lips.

“Suit yerself, lad,” Gobber shrugged, pressing a friendly hand to his shoulder.

Hiccup passed the rest of the meal in silence while Stoick and Gobber discussed Thawfest plans with Spitelout. Once finished, he slipped back into his corner to sketch while the rest of the Vikings had second, third, and fourth helpings before busying themselves with card games.

“My mom said I should invite you to sit with us.”

Astrid’s voice shook Hiccup out of his thoughts. At first, he thought he was imagining things, but when he slowly raised his eyes, he saw the blonde standing before him, eyes narrowed and arms folded over her chest.

“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna,” she continued.

“Oh, uh…I…I’m alright here. Thanks,” Hiccup said quickly as he turned back to his drawing.

“Fine with me,” Astrid shrugged before walking back to her table, seemingly relieved that he’d declined her invitation.

Hiccup sighed. He knew Astrid had no reason to want him sitting with her and the other teens, but at the same time, it would have been nice for her to fight a little harder to earn his agreement.

He was still reflecting on the matter when Mr. Hofferson announced that it was time for gifts. Hands trembling, he reached for his satchel, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to draw out the book, not after Astrid had been so dismissive towards him.

Astrid sat at the front of the room while a number of guests stood to place their gifts around her. Hiccup thought about trying to sneak through the crowd unnoticed, but when he opened his satchel, his heart fell to his stomach and nerves shook his body. He couldn’t sum up enough courage to do it even if his life depended on it.

As Stoick returned to his seat, he shot Hiccup a questioning glance, to which the boy replied by shaking his head and turning his attention to Astrid. Her first gift was a new axe, followed by a pair of boots, a new winter coat, and a batch of gingerbread cookies.

Thank Thor I ditched those old ideas, he thought, looking down at his drawing as he realized all Astrid’s gifts were either weapons, clothes, or food, and her reactions to them were noticeably monotone. The only somewhat interesting portion of the gift-giving hour was Mrs. Hofferson passing her old kransen onto Astrid, who looked more embarrassed than pleased at the present. Hiccup couldn’t blame her, either. He’d be mortified if Stoick publicly gave him a gift that practically announced his virginity, even if he was a bit too young to be thinking about it.

When all the presents were finally unwrapped, Mr. Hofferson cut Astrid’s birthday cake and Stoick invited the guests to help themselves to a slice. Hiccup, however, didn’t budge from his corner. He was too afraid the other teenagers would laugh at him for spending the whole party alone, and too disappointed in himself for not giving Astrid her gift that he wasn’t in the mood to do much but sulk. And anyway, he didn’t particularly like cake.

He hoped the event would come to an end after everyone was finished the dessert, but that was too good to be true. They were Vikings; of course the party would last as long as it possibly could, with everyone drinking mead and laughing together.

Hiccup suffered through the festivities for a bit longer before deciding that he couldn’t sit in the corner much longer. Folding up his drawing, he carefully snuck out of the Great Hall and began heading for home. Upon reading the doorstep, however, he had a sudden thought. With everyone still enjoying the party, and no one wandering about the streets, it was the the perfect opportunity to secretly drop Astrid’s gift onto her doorstep. She didn’t need to know it was from him; she could simply find it, take it, and do as she wished with it.

Smiling to himself, he quickly walked to the Hofferson house, carefully placed the book by her front door, then decided to take the long way home to clear his mind from the day’s rather stressful events.

“Hiccup!”

Hiccup was just about to twist his doorknob when he heard a familiar voice behind him. Turning around, he saw Astrid running towards him, his book in her arms and a smile on her face. She was back in her usual armor, and her hair looked freshly washed and braided.

“Astrid!” he exclaimed, rubbing the back of his neck as he shied away from her gaze to hide his blushing face. “Erm…shouldn’t you…uh…be at your party? I…I mean, it’s still going on, isn’t it? I—”

“I needed to get away from all that for a while,” Astrid began, nodding in the direction of the Great Hall. “So I went home to have a hot bath and cup of tea, and when I left to go back, I erm…I found this outside.” She held up the book. “Did you…”

Hiccup swallowed hard. “I uh...”

“It has pictures of the places we—I mean, I—used to play when we were—I was—a little girl, and there’s some beautiful Nadders, and —”

“That’s great, Astrid.”

“You drew all this for me, didn’t you?”

Hiccup slowly turned his face towards hers. To his surprise, her eyes were soft and her cheeks were tinted pink. “Well, I…”

Smiling wider, Astrid stepped closer to him and flung her arms around his neck in a brief hug. “Thank you, Hiccup,” she whispered, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear as she pulled away.

“It’s…it’s no problem, Astrid, I—”

The blonde suddenly looked around them and, her tone reverting back to its usual fierce tone, added, “But I swear to Thor, if you tell anyone about this, I’m pulling my axe on you.”

Hiccup relaxed. This was the Astrid he knew. “Got it,” he promised, turning to go inside. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

[thewayshedreamed]

This Time— Part 7

Fic Masterlist

As promised, here’s Part 7– complete with max Nessian. I haven’t decided if there will be one more long chapter, or if there will be one more + an epilogue, but we’re nearing the end for these two dumb dumbs 😂 I’ll warn you that there’s definitely some angst, but I hope that I make up for it.

Warnings for language.

——————————————————————————

She loosed a breath, puffing her cheeks with air and exhaling slowly. Just before she peeled her head from the headrest to get out, his front door opened. He opened it most of the way, then leaned against the door jamb on his shoulder. He had his hands in the pockets of his sweats and one of his ankles crossed casually over the other. For a moment, she only looked at him, unable to move or offer any type of acknowledgement. She took in the charcoal Henley he was wearing, unbuttoned save for the last one. The small flap of the opening leaned to the side, revealing the base of his neck and the beginning of his tattoos. He looked so very Cassian, casual and laid-back, that she struggled to keep her emotions level at the mere sight of him. His hair was down, looking like he had just run his fingers through it with its deep part and how it fell haphazardly around his face. He was wearing his reading glasses, she noticed, the thick frames highlighting the sharp angle of his cheekbones and the wide set of his jaw. He gave her a soft smile, and cocked his head to the side and back in invitation. She could almost here him tell her to “get in here”.

Too late to turn back now.

——————————————————————————

She got out of the car and travelled up the short walkway to his door. He moved to stand to the side, ushering her into the entryway without a word. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it. His voice was soft when he spoke.

“I saw you from the window when you pulled up. Hope I didn’t rush you.”

“Hmm. No. I wasn’t 100% sure I was going to knock anyway, so it’s probably best that you went out.” He tensed at her words. She offered a small smile, feeling oddly compelled to comfort him.

The whole reason you’re here is because you’re mad, Nesta. Focus.

”Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? Whiskey?” He huffed a small laugh at his last suggestion.

”Tea would be great, actually. I’ll come sit at the island,” she replied.

He walked past her, hands still firmly in his pockets. She followed him to the kitchen, situated herself on a barstool, and watched him prepare the things he needed. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, until the tension became a little too much.

“Have you decided if you’re going to tell me why you’re here?” His eyes were focused on what he was doing; never looking up at her as he spoke.

“Yeah. I think we have some things to talk about.” She watched his shoulders raise slightly before he put the kettle on the stove and turned around.

“Like?” He leaned back on the counter, crossing his arms across his chest.

”Us. Whatever we are, anymore. And boundaries.” She couldn’t look at him, so she opted to look down at her hands as she picked her cuticles.

He was quiet for a moment, and when she finally looked at him, the look on his face gave her pause. His expression was severe, his jaw tense and eyes narrowed.

“I think you made it perfectly clear what we are not, Nesta. If you came here to twist the knife, I’d like to opt out of this conversation.” He turned his back to her, busying himself by looking for the right mugs to pull from the cabinet.

“That’s not why I came!” she snapped. She lowered her face into her hands, willing herself to take deep breaths and stay calm. “I just... I know what we’re not. I do. But it’s hard to reconcile with how you act sometimes.”

”Which is?” His voice was strained, his patience waning.

“Like nothing has changed. Elain’s birthday— by the bathroom. The parking lot. Texting me today, and on top of th—“ He cut her off, much to her frustration, but she restrained her temper. This conversation was delicate enough, but she couldn’t keep from narrowing her gaze in his direction.

”I didn’t want this. You did,” he sneered. “Have you considered that it’ll take time for me to figure this shit out?” He pulled his chosen mugs out roughly, held them to his chest, and used his other hand to shut the cabinet door firmly. His voice was rough and slightly raised. Since it seemed he was determined to escalate anyway, she decided to jump ahead.

“So how is Alis then? Does she know how much time you need to ‘figure shit out’ with me?” she taunted coldly.

Apparently, the timing of her question couldn’t have been worse. Cassian’s entire body went taut as he was shifting the mugs to set them both down on the counter. He put them down with such force that it startled her, even though she was staring directly at him.

“What the fuck does it matter to you, Nesta? Huh?!” The mug in his right hand had broken on impact, but he didn’t seem to noticed as he whirled around. “She has nothing to do with our little shit show, so leave her the fuck out of it,“ he spat. His infamous temper was flaring now, and she knew he wouldn’t be backing down. He turned to see the broken mug, muttering a low “Fuck” and proceeded to sweep the broken pieces into his hands to throw away.

She blinked a couple of times, caught off guard by him immediately jumping to Alis’ defense. It’s not that she didn’t expect any loyalty at all, but the pain that followed is what threw her.

“Clearly, talking to you was a bad idea. I was hoping we could have an adult conversation!” she yelled.

He lowered his voice a fraction, but the venom in his tone remained. “Let me ask you something. How many godsdamned times do I have to take your bullshit on the chin before my reactions are justified? Why do you get to cling to your anger, make me the bad guy, and keep coming back for more? Your hands aren’t as clean as you’d like to think, sweetheart. Don’t fucking do this with me.”

She stood at that, grabbed her keys, and walked toward the door. She heard him laugh sarcastically from where he stood, and she was fully prepared to ignore him until he opened his mouth.

“There she is, walking away again. At least your predictability is comforting.”

She stilled, her entire body tensing. She turned around so quickly, launching herself toward him before she ever gave herself a chance to think better of it.

“You arrogant, self-righteous, son of a bitch!” She was pushing at his chest, and the fact that he barely moved at all had her seeing red. She started slapping at his chest between pushes and even went as far as to brace her hands on his chest, lunge, and use all of her force to move him backward. Her feet only slid back on the floor, while he lost no ground. “You giant, pretentious, pain in the—“

He gripped her wrists against his chest, transferred them to one hand, and used his other hand to cup her jaw. His grip was surprisingly gentle compared to the anger that flared in his eyes. She blew a breath through her bottom lip to get the stray hair out of her face and glared right back at him.

“Enough of all that.” He paused, studying her face before he continued. “Do you have any idea how crazy you make me?” His voice was low, and although she knew he was being quite literal, she couldn’t fight the warmth that pooled within her at his words.

She swallowed heavily and closed her eyes before saying, “I have an idea.”

He squeezed her wrists gently then, almost as if he was considering if it was safe to let them go. She opened her eyes at that and was surprised to find that she had leaned into him while her eyes were closed. Their noses were almost brushing, and as much as she longed to close the distance between them, she remembered her reasons for being here. She fixed her gaze on his eyes, remarking how much more prominent the gold flecks became when he was mad. When he met her stare, they softened slightly before flicking down to her mouth. He didn’t try to conceal it and instead opted to pull his hand back just enough to run his thumb over her bottom lip. He repeated the action across her Cupid’s bow before moving to cup her cheek.

The kettle’s whistle caused both of them to jump back slightly, disoriented by the fact that the world had indeed continued during those moments. He dropped her wrists from his chest, and a pained expression passed across her features.

“You’re the one that asked for tea, sweetheart,” he said, as he lowered his hand and smirked at her. “Plus, we have some talking to do, remember?” He touched her palm with his index finger to prompt her to follow him back into the kitchen. She followed and sat back in her previous spot at the island, as he passed the mug to her. He decided against getting another mug out for himself and leaned his hip on the corner of the island.

Nesta didn’t even know where to start. There were so many ways she could approach this, all leading to the same point, but she felt like that point needed context. Nothing about the time passed seemed linear to her, and she was struggling with how to best present herself. She stared down into her mug, bobbing her tea bag through the water to busy her hands.

“So, what is all this about Alis? How do you know about her?” he asked, tone matter of fact. She wasn’t sure if he’d opted to speak first out of impatience or if he was bailing her out as usual, but either way, she was grateful for a starting point.

A crease formed between her brows as she placed her tea bag on a napkin, her eyes never leaving the mug as she spoke. “The night of Elain’s birthday, at Rita’s. I sent you a text, and somehow you pocket dialed me a little while later. I heard your conversation. Maybe I should have hung the phone up sooner, because it obviously wasn’t intended for me, but it all happened really fast. I heard you making plans to meet up later that week, and then I hung up.”

”Ah. I see.”

”Not that it should matter how I know. The fact remains that you seemed awfully interested in talking to me that night, and not even a couple hours later, asking her out. It’s insulting. To both of us.”

He smirked at that, and she had to resist the urge to throttle him for it. “Is that jealousy, Nes? It’s not becoming.” Her eyes snapped up to his at his comment; boldly throwing her own words at her from that night at Rita’s. Just like that, she was seeing red all over again.

“You’re such a bastard, Cassian. Even if it was, it doesn’t change the point. You can’t date her and send sentimental texts to me on my mother’s death anniversary, it’s not fair! How do you think that makes me feel?!” She felt tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, and she quickly looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He leaned forward onto his forearms, meeting her at eye level. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I won’t pretend I’m an expert at reading your emotions because I’ve been very wrong before. How do you feel?”

”It really doesn’t matter. It was never right for me to come here and try to force a conversation with someone else’s... whatever you two are. It’s inappropriate.” Just like that, her mind was changed. She didn’t have it in her to do this, and she wanted to hold it together long enough to leave with a little dignity. Her tears betrayed her by streaming down her face, and she whisked them away quickly with her hands.

He grasped one of her hands with both of his, wiping the tears from it and holding it between his palms. His fingers skimmed over her wrist, and she couldn’t help but look at him. He looked pained, an earnesty in his eyes that she couldn’t ignore.

“Nesta, I’m not dating Alis. I’m not dating anyone, for that matter. Alis is a friend of mine who helps me out from time to time. She’s a florist at Spring Floral Cart, and we’ve worked together over the years for different things.”

It took her a moment to process his words before realization dawned on her. A florist. She was a florist, and he had flowers sent to her mother’s grave. Then what had she overheard? Thinking back on it, they never mentioned dinner, drinks, anything. Had she invented this whole thing?

“She did my mother’s flowers.” Not a question.

His eyes widened at her words. “How do you know about Christine’s flowers?” His voice was so quiet that it was almost a whisper.

“Rhys. He mentioned it at dinner—“

”Fuck, Rhys.” He dropped his head forward in frustration.

”Let me finish. He wasn’t trying to out you specifically, he just assumed at least one of us knew. Once he realized we didn’t, he couldn’t exactly lie or pretend he didn’t know either. It was obvious that he did.” She paused, but once she realized he wasn’t going to respond, she used her free hand to raise his face back up to look at her. “Why wouldn’t you tell me that? Why hide it? I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you would do that for her.” Her voice was just as quiet now, the air thick with emotion all around them.

Here she was, doing another 180 and deciding she needed to stay. She was getting whiplash from the extremes she was experiencing, all rapid fire. She stood, taking her hand from him, and circled the island to stand next to him. She pulled his bicep to encourage him to stand to his full height and look at her. He stood, but he kept his eyes locked on the countertop as he answered her.

“I never wanted it to seem like I had certain motives. I don’t know. I did it for her; not any recognition, not for praise. I knew how much she loved having fresh flowers around the house, and I didn’t want her to never have them again.” He was playing with the corner of her napkin, and she grasped his hand as he had done with hers just minutes ago. She had tears in her eyes yet again, but she did nothing to keep them hidden now. It seemed so stupid and pointless. “I think I knew deep down how I felt about you, and I never wanted you to think I was trying to win your favor in some cheap way; like I was using your mom as a way to get you to fall for me. It makes me sick to even say that out loud. I felt like if you knew, you would question my motives once you learned how I felt. And I think to some degree, I was scared I would discount your feelings for me even if they were returned... like they were just the product of some grand gesture during a rough time. Chalk it up to my daddy issues, I guess.” He chuckled softly before lifting his eyes to hers. He noted her tears, and his brows immediately came together in concern.

“Hey, hey, hey. No need for tears, Archie. I’m okay. We’re okay.” He held her face in his hands, brushing her tears away with his thumbs. She crumpled into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek to his sternum. He brought his arms around her and rested his hands on her lower back. She was quiet for several minutes before she mastered herself enough to speak.

”Gods, you couldn’t be more wrong, Cass.”

She leaned back to look at him. He cocked his head in confusion, willing her to continue. “I’m not okay. We’re not okay. Not like this. But knowing this doesn’t discount anything I feel for you. It doesn’t make me question your intentions. You forget that I know your heart and your character, and I know this is just who you are. And I was in love with you before I knew any of this, anyway. I was in love with you weeks ago when I was too scared to admit it to myself.”

She gripped his shirt at his shoulders as she forced herself to voice all these terrifying things she’d felt. After all they had been through together, he deserved to hear all of it from her. She needed him to know he was loved, even if she’d exhausted his good favor. She needed him to know he hadn’t misread her; that he hadn’t thrown his love into some void all these years.

“I loved you before she passed; loved you years before, even. I’ve loved you as far back as I can remember.”

Cassian closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as she spoke. He removed his glasses as he lowered his brow to hers and brought one of his hands up to cup the side of her neck. His thumb rubbed her jawbone gently.

”Nesta, I—“

”Wait. If I don’t finish, I’ll lose my nerve. Shit, I’m so terrible at this.” She huffed a small laugh, and he joined her, still with his eyes closed. “I think I was so afraid to need you. Because before, I always dated someone who ‘completed’ me in some way or ‘balanced me out.’ And when that wasn’t true anymore, everything fell to shit.” She paused for a few seconds to catch her breath. He waited patiently, rubbing soothing circles on her lower back with his thumbs.

“Something I realized over the last couple of weeks, is that I don’t need you. It’s never been that— wait. That came out wrong,” she said, shaking her head slightly but never breaking contact with his. She expected him to pull away from her or to see his anger flare once more.

She wasn’t expecting the small laugh that bubbled out of him, his eyes fluttering open to look at her. “Wow. You really are bad at this.” She swatted him playfully on the chest before she continued.

“What I mean is... it’s not like I’ve kept close to you because you served a specific purpose or kept me comfortable by never pushing me to grow. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve always been supportive, but...” She trailed off, trying to find the right words. “It’s just different with you, because no matter what phase of life I’ve been in, I’ve wanted you there. And as someone who struggles to see past her own nose sometimes, wanting all of you means so much more than merely needing a certain something from you, whatever that may be.” She felt tears roll down her face again and fought to keep her voice steady enough to finish. “It means that I love you, and it’s not seasonal. It’s not contingent on this phase of life. I love you, and I want you. I want you with me so much that I haven’t been able to think about much else.” She took a deep breath, terrified of how he would respond. His breathing was a little labored, and she could feel the tension radiating off of him.

“You love me,” he rasped. All she could do was nod. He moved his hands to each of her cheeks, cradling her face as he spoke.

“And you want me.” She nodded again. She couldn’t decipher much of anything from his tone, and that scared the shit out of her considering he was usually the open book. She realized the magnitude of how he had bared himself to her all those weeks ago, only to be met with her rejection. The pain he must have felt after being so raw and open.

”I understand if you don’t have it in you to give that to me anymore. The gods know that I’ve hardly given you a reason to. I just need you to know, but I’ll unders—“

”Shut up, Nesta,” he said, through a grin, before his lips crashed into hers.

The kiss was firm and passionate, yet with a gentleness she hadn’t experienced between them before. He angled his head to slant his mouth over hers, running his tongue over the tight seam of her lips in permission. She gasped quietly as she opened up for him, sliding her hand to the nape of his neck. She wove her fingers into his long hair, as if anything less may let him slip away from her. He let out a low growl once her fingers ran over the base of his scalp and nipped gently at her bottom lip. She whimpered at that, causing him to pull back a little to look at her. Her heart clenched at the adoration she saw in his face, and she moved her other hand from its place on his chest. She looped it under his arm, around his ribs, and grasped his shoulder blade. She wanted him closer, using him to ground her in the moment.

He moved one of his hands to grip her around the waist, his long arm resting across her back. He used the thumb of his other hand to lightly stroke her cheekbone.

“I wouldn’t have it in me to keep away from you,” he murmured. He bent his knees slightly so that he could lift her around the waist and gripped her thigh with his other hand, sliding her up onto the kitchen island. He brushed his nose softly against hers, gripping her hips as he spoke, “I love you.”

She ran her hands over his forearms, up his biceps, and rested them atop each of his strong shoulders. She felt shy all a sudden, a soft smile gracing her lips as her eyes flicked up to his. His gaze darkened when she looked at him, and she mustered as much bravado as she could to ask, “And do you want me?”

He pulled her hips forward at her question, bringing her to the edge of the countertop and as close to him as possible. “Always. In every way,” he purred, bringing his mouth to the soft skin beneath her jaw.

She tilted her head to the side to allow him better access. Her eyes fluttered shut as she whispered, “Show me.”

——————————————————————————

A/N: I couldn’t help but include a LITTLE more angst in their reunion— it’s just that Nessian is prime angst real estate 😂 As I said at the beginning of this post, I’m not sure how many more chapters (1 or 1 + epilogue), but I can tell you that I’ve already started writing the next chapter’s smut. 😳 Stay tuned for that!

Your comments/ feedback are always welcome. It makes my day to read through all of your reactions and commentary! If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters, shoot me an ask, comment, or reblog. The same applies if your tag isn’t working for some reason. I’ll be happy to look into fixing it!

Tags:

@polireader // @lord-douglas-the-third // @justgiu12 // @notyournymphetish // @sjm-things // @strangeenemy // @iammissstark // @keshavomit // @sjmships // @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks // @dusty-lightbulb // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @julemmaes // @charincharge // @superspiritfestival // @awesomelena555 // @sleeping-and-books // @hizqueen4life // @maastrash // @bookstantrash // @rhyswhitethorn // @grace-k-sterling // @sayosdreams // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @ladywitchling // @b00kworm // @courtofjurdan // @sannelovesreading

[itsthewickedwitchofthewest]

8 REAL Reasons Your Magic Fails and How to Fix It

What happens when your magic frustratingly doesn’t work? You put your intention out there, you gathered the ingredients, you timed it right, and then you performed the ritual. And then you waited. Nothing happened. OR the opposite of what you wanted was the result. There could be many reasons, but we teach you the 8 main reasons your magic fails PLUS how to fix it below!

1. No Follow-Through

Something I’ve seen a LOT in the online magical community is people who perform rituals, cast spells, and then wait for their intention to manifest. And wait. And wait. Then they ask if they can do the same magic again expecting the initial intended result. My question is – have you followed through with fueling your magic in the PHYSICAL realm? What I mean by this is – you can perform a new job ritual but if you don’t follow it up with footwork like applying to jobs, networking, etc. this is a reason your magic fails. Intention and energy in the spiritual realm must be mirrored with intention and energy in the physical realm. As above, so below.

2. Not Enough Energy Raised

This kind of goes along with number one, but sometimes not enough energy is raised during the ritual process. For example, how many times (honestly) have you made a wish and blown out the birthday candles and the wish ACTUALLY come true? Yes, there’s energy with the thought in your mind then the action of blowing out the flame, but is that enough to set into a motion a big wish? Learn how to fix this problem in the last section

3. You Second-Guess Yourself

Not knowing what you truly want and casting a spell or performing a ritual for your intention is a great way to have nothing happen. Or to have your magic do something different than you imagined. Make sure you know what you want before making magic to acquire it. If you think you’ll second-guess yourself, don’t do the ritual or cast the spell.

4. Magical Recklessness

It’s the new thing that everyone says. “It doesn’t matter as long as the intention is there.” Sorry, I hate to break it to you. But magic is more than that. Sure, intention is HUGE. But if you’re wanting to manifest real results, you’ll probably be calling on help from allies: gods and goddesses, ancestors, guides, angels, and/or energy from plants, crystals and the elements. Each have their own consciousness and energetic vibrations. Always acknowledge and understand the energies you plan to work with to make your magic. Don’t call on two goddesses from two different pantheons during a love ritual if you don’t know them intimately. Research the supplies and tools you plan to use.

Magical recklessness may make your magic go awry in many ways. Not to mention it can sometimes be physically dangerous – i.e. you ingest a plant that may be toxic or interact with a medication you’re taking. Or you didn’t research how to safely use charcoal disks and loose incense and start a fire! Do your due diligence, folks.

5. Attracting the Wrong Energy

The fact of the matter is this – there are entities out there that are attracted to magic. It’s like a bright light and they’re the moths. Don’t let those moths get into your sacred space. For this reason, I always remind people cleansing, sealing, and warding practices should be done on a regular basis. If you’re making magic and not cleansing before and sometimes after, you may attract the wrong kind of energies and they can mess with your magical results! It can get messy.

6. Not Understanding the WHY

This reason your magic fails goes hand-in-hand with being magically mindful (and not reckless) – understand the WHY behind your magical rituals, charms, etc. Why are you taking this ritual bath? Why are you smudging the house? How do these herbs work to open your third eye? Understanding the WHY is CRUCIAL to magical success and manifestation. Always question things – always question yourself!

7. Stuck in a Negative Mindset

If you’re making magic but you’re a negative person, and you’re expecting positive results, you’re probably going to be disappointed. Shocker, right? What we think becomes reality. If you’re constantly living in a state of fear, anxiety, depression, etc. you’re blocking your own magic! Fear disconnects us from the divine – from the universal energy that we tap into when we make magic. When we make magic and are overall a positive, forward thinker, we are connected to the divine and allow energy to flow freely. Therefore, manifestation baby!

8. It’s Just Not the Time

The last reason your magic fails may be a bit disappointing, but it’s true nevertheless. Sometimes you can do all the magical things right and still see no results or different results than you expected. It doesn’t matter if you did everything perfectly, the magic doesn’t work. This is because its just not the time for you to have that expensive car or move to a new state. The universe, your guides, your gods and ancestors, etc. all look out for you. And sometimes what you WANT to happen isn’t what’s BEST for your growth. So…MAGIC BLOCKED.

How to Fix Your Failed Magic

Addressing each reason for magic failing, here’s how to fix the problems:

No Follow Through: when you do something that sets your intention in motion in the spiritual you should feed or fuel your magic in the physical. Looking for a new lover? Put yourself out there! Go to social events, sign up for those dating sites, etc. Don’t be lazy, y’all!

Not Enough Energy Raised: just saying a chant over a candle and letting it burn might not be enough energy to manifest your intentions. Raise more energy by chanting over and over, by feeling the energy in you and around you and channeling that into your ritual. Dancing, singing, praying, and visualization are all great ways to raise energy for magical purposes. Then channel and release it!

You Second Guess Yourself: here’s how to fix this problem. Know what you want and why you want it, clearly. Then once you’ve made the magic, don’t second guess it. If you second guess yourself, maybe you shouldn’t have made the magic to begin with.

Magical Recklessness: there’s been many times I’ve intuitively put herbs and stones together for a ritual without looking up every single herb’s “properties” and the spell has worked. But this is also because I’ve already worked with these herbs and stones and understand their core vibrations. If you have no clue what an herb is used for or its energy, do your research first. The same goes with invoking gods and spirits – research and develop a relationship with those deities before invoking them into your inner circle. Just a little time and effort goes a long way magically!

Attracted the wrong energy: this is why it’s so important to set up a regular magical maintenance routine for protection! Magical maintenance should be done monthly including: a full house cleansing, self cleansing, sealing of thresholds, and warding (warding can be done every 3 months). When you make magic, ritual or spells, you should cleanse before the ritual and set up some form of magical protection (shield, cast a circle, call in your guides, something!) Otherwise you run the risk of letting the wrong spirits in.

Not understanding the WHY: if you don’t understand why you’re doing something, why do it? Just because a book or someone told you to do it this way? That’s a sure-fire way to miss an important aspect of magic. Always ask why.

Stuck in a negative mindset: this seems like a difficult one to break through, but it’s actually quite simple. Change the way you think. What you think, you create and become. Recognize when you’re having a negative thought and redirect your mind to something positive. Being stuck in a negative mindset will negatively affect your magic and your life! Also, meditation, exercise, sleep, and eating well help break out of negative mindsets.

It’s just not the time: recognize it might not be the right time for you to have what you are asking for. The universe has other plans. Try again later!

[sxfterhearts]

healed

31. [12:19 pm]

➳ pairing: yugyeom x reader

➳ genre/warnings: slow burn, fluff, slight bad boy!yugyeom, triggers; mentions of past violence, injuries, physical abuse

➳ word count: 2,725 words

➳ summary: 31. “Don’t worry about me,”

➳ author's note: this is it, the final part of this series! i hope it doesn’t let you down 😭😭 i’d love to hear your thoughts on this series, what you liked/didn’t like, and whether you’d like future drabbles in this universe!! (i’m tempted, tbh) that’s all from me, please please enjoy, lovely readers 🥰 (credits to @jinyoungot7​ for this wonderful gif that kills me everytime)

wounded // scarred // healed

A deep inhale made you giddy with joy. The familiar, sweet scent of this morning’s light drizzle lingered in the air. Although the weather was a bit too humid for your liking, you gratefully savoured the smell that filled your lungs. For some reason, being outside in the aftermath of a downpour always brought you back to that wooden counter of your parents’ restaurant. You used to watch the rain blanket the outside world from the inside as you soaked and drowned yourself in your daydreams. You were a foolish teenager back then, uncertain of the paths you would take and anxious of the future. Getting your heart broken by the one and only Kim Yugyeom was just the icing on the cake.

It was fair to say that a lot had changed since then. In the span of three years, you graduated high school, moved out of that tiny neighbourhood in Namyangju, rented a small studio apartment in Seoul and became a proud Veterinary Science student of Seoul National University.

Yet, you couldn’t help but to admit that while you had progressed into the next chapter of your life, some things will always remain the same. Like how your best friend, Yeeun, never missed out on an opportunity to lecture you over the phone from the comforts of her Busan home. You lifted the device away from your ears to save them from further damage, just as the leash of the cream Pomeranian in your care, Daisy, tugged you forwards, towards a passing bicycle. You urged the dog away from the edge of the sidewalk with a solid ‘No’, which she thankfully obeyed.

“I can’t believe that you’re not doing anything special the week before uni reopens! I mean, hello, we’re going to be spending the next twelve weeks slaving away at our desks, don’t you want to do something fun?” Yeeun shrieked in disbelief. You could imagine her shaking her head at you with that resigned look on her face, the one that signalled she had already given up trying to change your mind.

“Here, girl.” You whispered as softly as you could, trying to grab Daisy’s attention and guide her back to the adoption centre-cum-café, her temporary home. “This is fun and special, Eun. You of all people should know just how special it is to help out these cute furry little babies!”

“More like furry little rascals.” She muttered under her breath. “Come on, Y/N. I get that you’re really passionate about animals and all but just think about it – you’ll be facing these creatures for the rest of your life. You should really try something new once in a while. You know, go drinking or clubbing like a normal uni student. Besides, didn’t you just visit the centre last month for your birthday?”

She was right. You did make the one-hour trip to the adoption café on the morning of your birthday. Ever since that birthday three years ago, you always made it a point to celebrate by being in the presence of a furry companion. Taking care of another living creature, going on walks with them and picking up after them helped you to take your mind off that painful sixteenth birthday when you found out he was leaving. It became your annual ritual.

You cleared your throat, trying to get rid of the small lump triggered by those memories. “Yeah, yeah I did. I… Did I tell you about the dog that I took care of that day?”

Yeeun took a large bite of her favourite takeaway noodles before letting out a muffled “No, what about it?”

“He was… Well, he was a tiny black Pomeranian puppy, not more than four months old. He was cheerful and energetic, couldn’t wait to go on his walk.” You smiled sadly at the thought.

“Yeah…? And?”

“He reminded me so much of Charcoal. You know, the black puppy from your mum’s shelter? I walked Charcoal with him three years ago.”

“Oh, him.” Yeeun grumbled at the mention of Yugyeom.

You ignored the obvious disapproval in her tone. “Yeah, the thing is I really, really, really liked this puppy, and I was even thinking about adopting him for good. I got everything set up in my place, got the pee mats, the dog food, everything, but I came in this morning and he was gone.”

Yeeun hummed over the phone. “I’m sorry, honey. Maybe you and the puppy just weren’t meant to be.” She said, trying her best to comfort you about the adoption that fell through. “Do you still think of him? Kim Yugyeom?” Yeeun asked gently.

You sighed, catching a brief glimpse of your reflection on the windows of a cold noodle restaurant a few doors down from the adoption centre. To this day, you couldn’t enjoy a bowl of naengmyeon without your mind wandering to the boy. “Not often. Honestly, Eun, every time I think I’ve forgotten him, I’ll see something that reminds me of him and he’ll just creep back into my head.”

“You know what they always say, darling. You never really forget your first love.”

You mulled over her words as you rounded the corner towards the adoption centre, Daisy trotting a few paces in front of you. “I wouldn’t call it love, per se, it’s just-”

“Wait, hold that thought,” She interrupted. “I’m sorry honey, the boyfriend is at the door. Do you mind if we continue this later?”

“Yeah, sure, I need to go too.” You stood at the entrance of the centre, reluctant to go in and part ways with Daisy. The dog came to a rest by your feet, huddling close. “Thanks for calling and reminding me of my poor life choices!” You said, full of sarcasm.

“Hey, that’s my duty as your best friend, don’t mention it.” She chuckled. “Oh, and Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember what I said. Go live a little, okay? You’ve already wasted too much time on Kim Yugyeom.”

“Yeah, I will.” You mumbled, agreeing with her words. “Go enjoy yourself with the boyfriend. Not too much though, and spare me the details. Talk next time!”

The two of you bid each other farewell and ended the call. Miraculously, talking to Yeeun made your chest a little lighter. Amongst countless other things, she had been there for you during Yugyeom’s abrupt departure and the initial stages of denial. She helped you draft, edit, and re-edit the numerous emails you sent to the boy, the only form of communication between you two for the first six months. She hugged you close and let you sulk on her shoulder when the emails suddenly stopped seven months after he left for Incheon. You were beyond grateful to have her as a voice of reason amongst your irrational thoughts; someone to walk with you hand in hand through the storms of life.

You made a mental note to ask your mother to send Yeeun a parcel of her prized kimchi as part of next month’s delivery. The girl never failed to mention how much she missed your parent’s cooking whenever the two of you talked on the phone.

All of a sudden, a high-pitched bark travelled across the street. You instinctively tightened your hold on Daisy’s leash, wary of the arrival of another canine. Cautiously, you watched as a four-legged, black ball of fur whizzed past the empty street, arriving before you and Daisy in a matter of seconds. As the dog grew closer and closer, recognition flashed across your mind as you noticed the dog’s distinctive white collar, a stark contrast to his coal black fur. The dog you intended to adopt this morning was wagging his tail and panting by your feet, letting out occasional playful barks at Daisy, his former neighbour. You bent down, arm reaching out to get a feel for his oh-so-soft fur–

“Dal!” A male voice, bright and awfully familiar, exclaimed between heavy breaths. “Dal, slow down, big boy! Daddy can’t…” The voice died down a notch, reducing to a whisper as its owner’s feet entered your line of sight. His entire body shaded your crouched figure from the afternoon sunshine that peeked through the clouds. “Catch up.”

A moment of silence ensued as your eyes panned upwards, scanning a pair of long legs covered in ripped jeans, then a yellow plaid shirt that was haphazardly tucked in, right up to the owner’s face. You couldn’t help the sharp gasp leaving your lips. 

Standing before you was none other than Kim Yugyeom himself. His features were more defined than ever, his wavy hair a silvery shade of platinum blonde and his ears adorned with a pair of silver hoop earrings. A single stainless-steel drop earring dangled from his earlobe, its bottom decorated with a half-crescent moon and a star. You stood there and stared at the boy you once knew, now a fine young man, just taking him in. You noticed the lack of cuts and scars on his unblemished, fully healed face. You spotted the beauty mark right under his right eye, standing out against his fair skin. You watched, mesmerised, as his lips twitched to form a slightly sheepish grin, while the tips of his ears burned and glowed into a striking shade of cherry red. Yugyeom’s eyes widened in mild surprise, his gaze lingering on your face for a few stretched out seconds before wandering away, then returning back.          

Him… It’s him… He’s here, in Seoul? But I thought he was supposed to be in Incheon, with Mark. What is he doing here? And how did he…? Your never-ending stream of thoughts swirled inside your head at an alarming rate, and you felt the onset of a splitting headache crawl up your temples.

“There you are, Y/N.” Yugyeom said finally, releasing a satisfied sigh and an airy laugh. He didn’t seem nearly half as surprised as you felt under these unlikely circumstances. In fact, you thought that the expression he wore on his face morphed into one of relief instead. “After so long, I finally found you.” He bent down to scoop the black puppy into his arms, leaving you utterly stunned. Before your mind could process the meaning behind his words, however, he suggested, “Let’s talk inside,”, gesturing towards the entrance of the adoption café. 

You gave him a meek nod, not daring to let out a sound on the off chance that you would stumble over your words and make a fool out of yourself. With the manners of a gentleman, Yugyeom held the door open for you and waited patiently as you ushered an excited Daisy into the café filled with her furry friends. He took confident, quick strides towards the barista standing behind the counter, much like the first time he had walked into your parents’ restaurant. The way he carried himself, with an air of calm coolness, had not changed at all. You followed closely behind, struggling to keep up with his bigger steps.

“Hello, noona.” He greeted the lady, friendly and warm. “Can I please get an Iced Choco and…?” Yugyeom turned to you expectantly.

“Uh…” You started, soft and uncertain. “A peach iced tea, please.”

“No longer a coffee addict, huh?” He teased, unable to contain his toothy smile. Yugyeom retrieved his wallet from his back pocket and held out his card to pay. It was then that you noticed, quite belatedly, the yellow Rilakuma plaster wrapped tightly around his left index finger.

Your mind began to race. You were unbelievably happy that even after three years, he still stuck to the same brand of bandages, but at the same time, fear and anxiety gnawed and scratched against your chest. All this time, was it still happening? You wondered silently. Surely… “What’s… What’s with your,” You gestured vaguely towards his appendages. “Your finger?” You squeaked.

“Ah,” Yugyeom glanced briefly towards the yellow plaster, paying it little to no mind. “Come, sit down first, okay?”

“No,” You replied with a firm tone that you rarely used. You were a little taken aback yourself. “I’ve spent the past three years worried sick about you. Don’t you at least owe me an explanation about your most recent injury?”

Yugyeom sensed your insistence and determination, knowing that there really was no use trying to convince you otherwise. “It’s nothing to worry about, Y/N, trust me, I’ll show-”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Let me see.”

“Look, it’s just a small cut, okay?” You raised an eyebrow at his description. From memory, his definition of a small cut was miles apart from yours. He took a step closer, hoping to persuade you. “Here,” Yugyeom peeled away the sticky fabric with little difficulty, revealing a thin slit that already closed up. “See? It’s tiny. I was cooking the other day and the knife just sort of slipped and nicked my finger. I told you, don’t worry about me.”

Still, you were unwilling to let him off the hook so easily. “Kim Yugyeom? Cooking? Are you sure that’s safe?”

“Perhaps not the safest…” He admitted with an embarrassed rub of his neck, leading you towards an empty table by the windows. “I just really, really missed your mother’s food. Her naengmyeon especially. I’ve tasted every single naengmyeon in Incheon and Seoul and honestly, nothing comes close. I even tried to cook it myself but, well… You can guess how that turned out.”

“What made you think that your naengmyeon could be better than a restaurant’s?” You questioned jokingly, earning yourself a faked wince of pain from Yugyeom as he clutched the right side of his chest, the wrong side.

After that, it was like the words couldn’t stop flowing out of your mouths. He told you about how he caught a glimpse of your adoption papers during his interview for Dalkyum, the black puppy, and recognised your photo. He confessed that he was initially drawn to Dalkyum due to his sheer resemblance to Charcoal, to which you agreed wholeheartedly. He moved to Seoul late last year to study Fine Arts at the Korea National University of Arts, and you revealed that you were studying to become a vet. He explained how half a year after moving to Incheon, Mark had accidentally downloaded a virus onto their shared laptop while gaming, rendering it broken beyond repair. He didn’t write down your email address and thanks to his goldfish memory, he forgot the entire string of letters once Mark found a replacement.

It seemed like the more you talked to Yugyeom, the more you felt the icy shards of pain and sorrow around your heart melt away. Although, that could probably be because he was looking at you with the brightest of expressions, his mouth permanently fixed into a wide, million-watt smile.

“What do you think? Shall we start over?” You asked after a lull in the conversation, taking a sip of the soothing, saccharine liquid.

“No, I’d rather we pick up where we left off, but with a proper introduction.” He extended his arm for you to shake, which you did with a light scoff and an upturn of your lips. “Hello, my name is Kim, Yu, Gyeom. Kim for gold, Yu, which means to have, and Gyeom, as in humble or modest. It’s nice to meet you again, Y/N. You look beautiful today, as always. Did you know that? I can’t stop myself from being drawn to you, but I guess some things never change.”

“I… What…?” You sputtered hopelessly, reigniting the butterflies in your stomach. “Yugyeom, I’m literally in an old t-shirt and baggy shorts.”

“Doesn’t matter to me, Y/N.”

//

“There’s another thing that never changed, which unfortunately was also out of my control.”

“Oh no, what else, Kim?”

“I’m sorry to tell you this so late, Y/N, but sadly, you were and are my first love. And you see, the thing about first loves is that no matter how hard you try, you simply can’t-”

“Forget them.”

“Exactly. Trust me, I tried.”

“Yeah, I tried too, so hard. I guess you weren’t meant to be forgotten. Or I guess we weren’t meant to forget each other.”

“First loves stick with you like a scar that can never be fully healed.”

“Wow, look at you, Kim! I’m impressed, you’ve become so poetic.”

“From now on, I’ll only write poems for you.”

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Lost Time

It was half past eight on a Monday and I was running late. I was known for being late as well as scatter-minded and it was an image I had been trying to combat since I was a young girl.

However, that didn’t change the fact that I had already missed the 8:30 train and the 8:20 one before that. I stood on the platform with the usual suspects of businessmen in charcoal dark suits, middle-aged moms on their way to the market with overly large floral-print tote bags, and a few highschoolers who looked just as late I was with a bruised-eyed emptiness about them.

I bounced on my heels as I waited and checked my watch every few minutes. I had been given several warnings so far about tardiness at my office job and while I wasn’t exactly thrilled about quality control work I was less thrilled about the prospect of being fired.

I texted my workplace friend about covering for me and then I checked my watch again.

For not the first time I missed university and the ideal of sleeping through whatever classes I didn’t care for and sneaking in a few minutes late to any lectures I actually did. My older sister kept insisting I was lucky I had gotten a job right out of college at all, but there was no helping it. It all sort of sucked.

The monotony was almost as bad as the knowledge that monotony was my future: pure predictable, clockwork knowledge of what I might be doing a month from now. And then a year from now. And the year after that.

I bounced on my heels and checked my watch for the third time. It was a leather watch with a round handsome face and a worn strap- my father had given it to me right before the Alzheimer's set in when I was around seventeen.

We hadn’t “lost” him, but we did lose the man I grew up with.

That was how I remembered that morning: thinking about Monday and work and my father’s watch which kept ticking much slower than I would have liked it to.

Maybe things would have been different if my work friend had texted me back faster or if I had woken up earlier or if I hadn’t bothered to wake up and go to work at all that morning.

I bounced in place and just as I was about to look down at my watch again a hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. “Ah,” I jumped and swung around to start shouting at whoever it was or the very least pull away from the stranger manhandling me on a public platform.

I hesitated when an old woman looked back at me. She was small, and had neat grey hair swept back into a tidy bun and a hunched back with wide, heavyset shoulders. She was lined with deep wrinkles and had clear blue eyes that struck me as somehow attractive and open.

She smiled mildly at me and her cool hand was still wrapped around my wrist as I faced her. I wrinkled my nose slightly as the scent of something like chlorine hit me over the head. It was a saturated sharp kind of chemical smell.

“Excuse me,” the old woman spoke in the same tidy manner as her look. “May I borrow some of your time?” I frowned deeply as I suspected she was about to break out a bible and start a pitch for either Jesus Christ or some new age church of cardinals or weed or paying them money or whatever.

I drew back, “I’m sorry.” I tried to glance at my watch but it was still in her grip. “I gotta get to work.” “It won’t take long at all. No trouble for you, I promise.” She said and her voice was similarly friendly, high-pitched, and reminded me somewhat of a cricket.

The chemical smell funneled through my system and I tried to politely hold my breath. “Sorry. The train is about to come and I really can’t miss it.” “We have time.” She said slowly. “It will only be for a bit and won’t cost you a cent.” I sighed heavily and looked around to check if anyone there noticed me being accosted by the elderly, but no one even batted an eye in our direction. “Are you selling something?” “No.” She said suredly. “I know this sounds a little forward, but I’m trying to find someone and I could use some help.” “Huh.” I blinked a couple times and chewed on my bottom lip; I weighed my options carefully for just a moment more and then met her syrupy blue gaze. “Just looking for someone, yeah?” I exhaled slowly. “Alright. Sure.” Her smile grew wide and candied sweet. She released my wrist and I swore a popping sound erupted through the air and sent a shiver down my spine.

“But I really can’t do it right n-” I didn’t finish my sentence as the train whooshed onto the platform and I stumbled backward. When I turned to tell the old lady I would have to help her later, she was gone.

I sniffed loudly and rubbed at my wrist before hurrying aboard my morning train and trying not to get stuck on any of the details. It was Boston, sometimes weird people talked to you.

And you tried to forget them. At least, at the time I hoped to forget her and get to work without being noticed or reprimanded again.

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

It was two months into December and I had a head cold like nobody's business. I hadn’t been able to breath out of my left nostril since the day before and I missed her dearly, as you would a best friend or lover.

Cold sheets of rain had been coming down in slushy torrents for days now and I had spent hours the week before helping move my roommate out. She had finally decided to go all the way with her questionable boyfriend and move in with him despite the old pizza crust smell and missing fire escapes in his neighborhood. But he had both a car and a netflix account.

I was happy for her up until I helped her move a couch in the pouring ice-rain and woke up the next day with the feeling of a balloon inflating in my sinuses. 

I went to work all the same in an effort to make management get off my back about the number of days I had missed. The world was a slow motion mess of dayquil and painkillers by the time I was finally able to head home in a daze. I produced kleenex after kleenex out of my purse as I traveled, like a magic trick where no one was impressed.

I was rocking gently back and forth in the train when my head pounded slightly and my nose cleared up for just a moment. I would have hit the air with my fist right then in victory if not for the sharp scent of chlorine that washed over me.

The uncomfortable sterile smell that reminded me of storms and sucking on copper pennies.

My eyes darted left and right to check if anyone had noticed, but the train was filled with pencil-skirt ladies on their phones typing away, school children with ipads out, and a homeless man softly snoring in one of the seats.

I massaged the bridge of my nose and hurried the rest of the way home with more kleenexes produced and thoughts of nyquil on my mind. I was surely too sick to be cogent I figured and becoming slightly delirious.

I slipped into my now one-person apartment, ate canned noodle soup, and tucked myself to sleep in my thickest sweatpants and sweater. It should have been over then, but it wasn’t.

I had dreams, and not the type of dreams I had ever had before. Dark shadows shifted and oozed under me, bright neon colors popped in my vision, stars exploded left and right and nonsense voices babbled in the distance.

It was like the confusing scene in Dumbo with the pink elephants singing except I didn’t even get to be drunk for it. And then the scent of chemicals came wafting through my head space and I exhaled from somewhere deep inside of me and everything went as blank as a canvas.

There was no proper way to describe it except the unclenching of every muscle in my body after a long day or letting go of a kite and watching it sail away with the wind. I let go of thousands of jumbled images and sounds and then I blinked again and I was staring at the night sky.

It was hard to process for a long hard second and harder to come to grips with the cold air against my flushed cheeks and the crevice moon up above. My muscles complained at me dully, but besides that my body was limber and I noticed I could breathe again.

I inhaled through both nostrils and when I sat up I realized I was in some sort of barren field. I gawked at the empty rows and dirt on my hands and the fact I could barely make out any city lights in the distance.

I hadn’t left Boston in months and I didn’t remember getting off my couch that night. Or driving. Or walking. Or bundling myself up in my heavy pink coat and lying down in a field.

I flexed slightly and noticed a tingling in my fingers and dirt on my knees and palms. I had been doing something as well.

I searched my person for a moment and was relieved to find no injuries, but also no clues. My coat pockets were completely empty and my only guiding source of information was that I was in a field and I wasn’t sick anymore.

I even sniffed the air for chlorine, but there was nothing but faint winter chill.

I took a deep breath and stood up after a few minutes and began to walk toward the city lights. It was a long walk and I went back and forth in my head on whether to take myself to the hospital and ask about sleep walking disorders.

On the other hand I remembered my father’s long struggle with in-patient care, his empty gaze as more nurses talked to him in gentle tones, and wheeled him around the blank white halls. I remembered the tears as he seemed to lose my face and then my mom’s face and birthdays and places and names like party balloons being popped. The hospital smell made me nauseous just thinking about and it had only been one night. 

Just one night didn’t mean anything.

I ended up finding change in the back pocket of my jeans and taking the 6am bus home from Northampton all the way to my apartment. I didn’t sleep well for days after that.

--------------------- I chalked the first time up to a weird combination of flu medicine, stress at work, and maybe even losing my roommate that week. And for awhile it seemed like a dream that someone else had.

For awhile.

It was February when the feeling crept back in. I couldn’t explain it, but I started checking hallways before I turned the corner and examining strangers faces twice if they sat next to me. I put bowls of water by my door so I might step in them and wake myself if I started sleep walking again.

Or perhaps someone else would step in them on their way in. I tried not to dwell on that last thought- no matter how many times it nagged at me.

There was a sensation of sickness in my gut and I couldn’t get rid of it. It was February and I was sitting on my couch watching some nothing TV show my mom recommended to me and just like before, something unclenched.

The kite was released and I blinked and there was an absolute nothingness so fine that I could have drowned in it. Been eaten by it, been destroyed by it.

And I blinked once and I was standing in the grocery store holding an egg carton and practically gagging on chlorine stench lodged in my mouth. “Ack.” I dropped the eggs to the floor and they splattered like firecrackers on the Fourth of July.

I started breathing heavily and clutching at my chest, several concerned shoppers stopped and looked my way as I leaned on my cart for support. The cart was completely filled with cartons of eggs.

I ran outside only to find I was just a few blocks from my apartment building. I sprinted home and when I tripped my way up my stairs, wheezing and eyes streaming, there was a single spilled bowl of water on the floor.

I melted into the carpet and shook slightly as I looked at it. Something had been in my apartment. Or else I had kicked it myself during the weird trance.

But it didn’t matter either way. I couldn’t remember.

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

I finally went to the doctor with a complaint of memory problems and we met with a neurologist with iron-grey hair and a busy tie. He checked my pupil dilation and ability to track objects with my eyes. He tested my reflexes and had me remember colors and numbers in certain orders.

My mom came with me for the appointment and glanced at me every few minutes. She didn’t say anything, but I could read the thoughts on her face: it’s already got her too.

Maybe my mom thought she was cursed. But when all of my tests came back negative for any brain abnormalities she exhaled and I didn’t.

It got worse from there. I would wake up blocks from my house holding an umbrella I didn’t own, wake up with leaves and sticks in my hair, be walking down the street one second and then be in a completely different part of town on a park swing the next.

I started putting more bowls of water around my house and added bells and stacks of books and even a few stray mouse traps around the windows (one of which actually caught a mouse). Most nights there was nothing but gnawing silence and I waited and waited for the smell of ozone.

The smell of storms and pools and airplanes right when you get off. 

I blinked up at my dark ceiling and waited. It only happened once; I heard the bell: the chiming silver bell with all of my worst fears and highest anxieties pressed to it. I turned over in bed to grasp for my phone or a baseball bat or anything at all.

But then I unclenched. The world popped and the nothingness took hold with a profound sudden swallowing sensation.

And I blinked again and I was standing on the very top of a hotel building with cars honking down below and a fire exit open behind me. I looked down and I was holding a TV antenna in one hand and a spoon in the other.

“Goddammit!” I threw both of the items down on the ground and started pulling on my hair. “You can’t keep doing this to me!” I screamed at nothing, “I have a life! I never agreed to this.”

But somehow, I remembered I had.

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

I quit my job. I hated the endless spreadsheets and conference calls and management deadlines, so it wasn’t much of a loss. But everyone I knew asked “what’s next?” with big eager smiles and I stopped returning their calls after a while.

I stopped sleeping. I started prowling the streets like a cramped zoo animal with nowhere to go. It was late spring by then and the city was stinking with hot bodies and burning trash and my own simmering violent questions brewing under the surface.

What’s happening to me? I wanted to scream at someone, but didn’t want to have to return to the hospital. Why me?

There were no answers, only the endless strips of pavement and my red converse slapping against them. Fifth street: two young boys biking with matching helmets and noisily chewing gum that they blew into fat pink bubbles. Washington Street: cop pulling over a teacher with thick glasses and a hard look on her face as she got out of her vehicle.

South End: a busy farmers market with women in overalls selling backyard kimchi and a man with a beard almost down to his waist selling gourmet chocolates and homemade beer. Noisy, busy, yelling, laughing people that streamed past me and barely stopped to look at my blood-shot eyes and trembling hands.

I was well past the farmer’s market and on the seventh day of my trek when I heard it. A high, cricket voice that carried over the buzz of construction work nearby.

“No, no, not like that.” She spoke into a phone briskly. I turned on my heels and everything moved in slow motion and jerky fast images all at once. One second I was staring at an old woman with pleasing blue eyes and then I had her pinned up against the nearest wall with my forearm.

“Police!” She shouted without hesitation or even looking at me. “Police! Someone!”

I hissed through my clenched teeth. “Take it back.” I growled lowly. “Make it normal again.” Her lips peeled into a snarl and she leaned her head against the wall. “That’s not how it works.” And then the smell of chlorine slithered through me and I started to cough.

“No!” I held on with all my might- clenching and gripping and grasping for something I couldn’t name. “Not now! I need-” I gasped, “I need.” The old woman looked blankly at me, but with something that I might have classified as pity. Or despair. “Give it to someone else.” She said in a soft voice. “Pass it off.”

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

My hair was falling out in thin clumps and I kept wiggling one of my back teeth as it had seemed to have come loose. I had no idea what I had been doing for days by then and no matter how many traps I set it was always the same: crashing bowls and ringing bells and then nothing. Expansive, hungry nothing.

I stood at the train station platform and looked at my watch. I had forgotten to wind it and it had stopped ticking. I looked at it and I bounced on my heels and a young man in his very early twenties stood next to me.

He smelled strongly of aftershave and his suit seemed to swim around him despite being obviously tailored. He had coiffed golden hair and frantic eyes that darted back and forth over the platform.

He looked down at his watch.

I shot my hand out and took his wrist. “Excuse me,” I croaked and tried to get him to look me in the eye. “Can I borrow some of your time?”

[imaginetonyandbucky]

The Buy In

Chapter 4: 404 File Not Found

by @dracusfyre

Over the next few weeks Bucky did start to get hints of Stark’s criminal operations, at least the ones that were easy to see: the illegal gambling dens, knockoff designer bags and sunglasses, the chop shops that picked up and moved every two weeks. This was the stuff that they already knew about, though, and so far Bucky hadn’t been able to directly link Stark to any of it. Learning that Stark had an accountant was the biggest break he’d had so far, but despite his best efforts he hadn’t gotten even the hint of a name. He was so lost in thought trying to figure out a way to get deeper into Stark’s organization that he didn’t even notice that KT had stopped walking until he was already several steps away.

“What’s up?” he asked and followed KT’s gaze to the park bench where someone was sleeping, an overflowing shopping cart pulled up next to them.

 “Stay here,” KT said, and went over to the bench. As Bucky watched, he squatted next to the bench. He must have said something because the person startled awake and sat up, scooting away from him. Now that the person was sitting up, Bucky could see that it was an older woman, gray hair waving in the wind. KT remained crouched, hands up, still talking. He was there long enough that Bucky looked around for a place to sit, but before he could find a seat KT handed her something and walked away.  KT had his phone out and was talking on it by the time he got back to where Bucky was waiting, so Bucky walked in silence until KT hung up.

“Who was that?” he asked as KT put his phone away, looking over his shoulder at where the old woman was pushing her cart somewhere else.

“Social worker,” KT answered. “Boss keeps one on retainer.”

“Retainer?”

“Yeah. She works for the city, but the Boss pays her extra to handle the cases he sends her way. Anna there,” he said, gesturing towards the old woman, “refused to go to the shelter so I told Ms. Walker to have someone come talk to her, see if they can get her some help.” Bucky managed to not roll his eyes, though he wanted to, but he must have made some kind of noise because KT looked up at him and said, “What?”

“Nothing,” Bucky said, but KT put a hand on his arm and pulled him to a stop right there on the sidewalk.

“No, we’re going to talk about this. You’ve had an attitude whenever I talk about the Boss since you started, and I’m tired of it. Say what you want to say.”

“I just don’t get why you really believe all that stuff, about Tony Stark being in it for a little guy. ‘The mob boss with a heart of gold,’” Bucky said sarcastically. “I mean, a social worker? Really? Head start programs, scholarships, small business loans, the whole line about kicking out drug dealers - it’s all bullshit. He’s just got a hell of a PR team.”

“And there it is. I knew this was coming. You new guys are all the same.” KT gave him a scornful look. “Look, belief is for things that you don’t know are true, so no, I don’t believe all that stuff. I know it.” He took his jacket off and pulled up the sleeve on his left arm; the inside of his forearm and elbow were scarred with track marks. “My name wasn’t Kenton when I was born, it was Katie,” he said. “My parents let me stay until I was eighteen, then they kicked me out on my birthday. I spent two years on the streets, and I was one of the first people in that rehab center when it reopened. The sweet deal I mentioned that you get at the 90 day mark? It's a rent-controlled apartment and a job. With benefits, no less. Haven’t been back on the bullshit since, and now the Boss is paying for me to get a degree in social work.”

Bucky was stunned. “That’s insane,” he said as KT put his jacket back on. “I don’t…people aren’t like that in real life.”

“Yeah, that’s what they say,” KT said with a snort, and turned to keep walking. “But I think that assholes want you to think that everyone is an asshole deep down; that way you don’t get mad at them for being assholes. Because if people knew that there were good guys, like really good guys like the Boss, then no one would put up with the assholes anymore. You get me?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said faintly. “It’s just…”

“I know. I had a hard time believing it, too. Kept waiting for the other shoe to fall, you know? Like, no one gives away this stuff for free. But then the Boss sat down with a bunch of us and explained the buy-in, and that’s what made me realize he was for real.”

“Is anyone ever going to explain what that means? The buy-in?”

“When you’re ready, the Boss will explain what it means.” As they walked, KT pointed out small things around the neighborhood that Bucky had noticed but not really paid much attention to: the walls covered with paint that Bucky had assumed was graffiti but was actually street art, commissioned from local high schoolers; sidewalks were power washed with no weeds in the cracks; the space between the sidewalk and the curb often had flowers rather than being a sad patch of dead dirt and litter. No broken windows, no broken street lights, playgrounds with new equipment. It wasn’t like it was suddenly a rich neighborhood, with boutique shops and craft breweries, but it was clean and safe and clearly cared for. Bucky went through the rest of the shift on autopilot, lost in thought.

That night, he couldn’t sleep for thinking about it, so finally he pulled out his computer. He hadn’t done demographic research like this since he’d studied sociology in college, but gradually the picture started to emerge. Census data, crime rates, education statistics, property values, employment rates – they all added up to a picture that was hard to argue with: there was a bubble of prosperity around the neighborhoods that Stark controlled, an effect that faded quickly beyond the de facto edge of his territory.

Bucky closed his laptop slowly and bit his lip.  Some of the stuff he’d seen, like helping out the local businesses and the sex workers, could be explained as being good business sense. But for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why a mob boss would care about high school graduation rates and early childhood education. He exhaled and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

“A criminal philanthropist is still a criminal,” he said to his ceiling. “Right?”

                                                 ***

As the weather grew cooler, Bucky realized had been working for Stark long enough to have developed something of a routine; he worked with KT during the week, but occasionally swapped out for one of Stark’s other patsani when KT was needed for something else, then on his days off he made his way to the library to make his report to his handlers. Despite what Stark had said about him being a cop when they first met, Stark seemed willing to let him stay on the streets; Bucky figured maybe it had been a test or his idea of a joke. But the sheer normalcy of the routine meant that, despite his best efforts, he had started to relax and let down his guard. He realized just how relaxed he had gotten when he showed up to meet KT for their daily rounds and Happy was there instead, leaning against one of Stark’s cars; his mind raced over the past few days as he felt a pulse of panic that he had screwed up somehow and his cover was blown. “What’s up, Happy?” Bucky said, steps slowing as his blood ran cold.

“New gig tonight,” he said, holding a car door open for Bucky. “You’re going to be the Boss’s bodyguard.” Bucky let out a silent breath and his shoulders relaxed as the spike of fear was replaced by a quick thrill of excitement. This was the opportunity he'd been looking for.

He shrugged carelessly as he got in the car. “Anything I should know?”

“Boss will tell you what you need to know.”

Happy took him back to the garage where he’d met Stark the first time, only this time instead of the grungy mechanic, Stark looked like the Tony Stark, the capital M Mechanic that Bucky had expected to see then. He was wearing a tailored Tom Ford three piece suit, charcoal grey over a crimson collared shirt, and his jaw was clean shaven except for his trademark Van Dyke beard. He was talking to a Black man with a military bearing, but when he saw them come in he gave them a blinding smile that made Bucky’s heart skip a beat. While Bucky tried to process that unexpected development Tony pushed his glasses to the top of his head and studied Bucky with eyes that were sparkling with humor, like he'd just heard a joke he was eager to share.

“Hey, copper,” he said as Bucky approached. “New job for you. I’ve got a black tie event to go to and I need someone to watch my back, so you’re going to be my plus one.”

"Not a cop," Bucky said automatically, then he heard the rest of Stark's sentence. “Wait, plus one? I’m your date?” he said before he could stop himself.

That surprised a laugh out of Stark. The curl of his smile got sultry and intimate, and he stepped closer to Bucky, who could only stare and swallow thickly, frozen in place. “Do you want to be, Blue Eyes?” he murmured, and Bucky got goosebumps as his voice got deep and smooth. The humor in Stark's eyes turned into flicker of interest as the moment stretched like hot taffy and a denial failed to manifest. Bucky bit his lip as Stark swayed closer, and his breath stalled in his lungs Stark’s gaze flicked down to his mouth and then back up. This close, he could tell that Stark was a few inches shorter than him; if he tilted his head down and Stark tilted his head up, they could be-

“Tony,” Stark’s friend said quellingly, breaking the tension. “Stop teasing the poor man.”

Stark inhaled sharply, as if he’d forgotten they weren’t alone, and took a step back. The glasses came back down over his eyes, and by the time he turned to face his friend, the laughing smile was back in place. “You should have seen his face, Rhodey,” he said, hands in his pockets as he strolled away. “I’ve never seen a person’s brain blue screen so thoroughly before. No, Blue Eyes, you’re not my date, you’re my bodyguard.”

Bucky blew out a breath, feeling shaky for some reason, and rewound the conversation. “Black tie event, you said?” Bucky looked down at his outfit, jeans and a Henley shirt, with his old military issue boots and a jean jacket.

Tony tilted his head towards the back of the garage, not meeting his eyes. “I got your fancy duds in the bathroom back there. And a razor, though I dig the manly stubble.”

 “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Rhodey said as Blue Eyes closed the door to the bathroom to get changed.

“Of course,” Tony said, keeping his voice light despite the fact that his nerves were still vibrating like a plucked string. “First of all, it’s objectively hilarious and you know it. Second, photos from this event are going to be all over the internet and I don’t want you or Happy to get that kind of press.” He looked over to see that Rhodey was watching him skeptically. “What?”

“Don’t sleep with the undercover cop.”

“I won’t.”

“Uh huh.” Somehow Rhodey’s skeptical face got more skeptical. “I saw that moment. You guys had a moment.”

“I’m not going to sleep with the undercover cop,” Tony repeated dutifully, wishing Rhodey would drop it. Because there had been a moment, a breathtakingly arousing moment that had felt as fragile as spun glass and as powerful as a hurricane; at any other time with any other person Tony would have chased that moment, that feeling, but the reminder that Blue Eyes was a cop had soured it. Now Tony wished he had a drink to wash the taste of want from his mouth. “Is Happy bringing the car around?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

The pause before Rhodey answered made it clear that he knew what Tony was doing, but instead of calling him out on it he just said, “It’s already out front.”

After a few more minutes, Tony heard the doorknob to the bathroom turning and consciously plastered an easygoing look on his face as Blue Eyes came out. It was good that Tony had a legendary poker face, because seeing Blue Eyes in a fitted suit, clean-shaven with his slightly long hair brushed back from his face, would have broken a lesser bisexual. Shaving made him look ten years younger and drew attention to his full mouth, which was currently frowning in concentration as he tried to fasten his cufflinks one-handed. A rare sense of self-preservation kept Tony from offering to help; he stuffed his hands in his pockets against the urge to reach out and run his fingers along the sharp, smooth line of Blue Eyes’ jaw.

Rhodey must have seen something in Tony’s face or posture that gave away his thoughts, because he said, “Don’t sleep with-“

“Enough, Rhodey,” Tony said under his breath. “Ready, Blue Eyes?” he said more loudly, gesturing towards the door where Happy was waiting. Blue Eyes nodded and followed him, climbing into the front seat next to Happy while Tony sat in the back.

“So where are we going?” Blue Eyes asked, turning around in the seat to look at Tony.

The reminder immediately cheered Tony up. “The Policeman’s Ball,” he said with relish, and got to see Blue Eyes’ brain 404 error for the second time that night.

[honeyhan-123]

The Artist ~ I

Summary: When Steve meets the reader at an art class he immediately becomes enticed and maybe, just maybe, she can help heal his wounded heart.

Warnings: None for this chapter but smut will be present in later chapters

Pairings: Steve x reader, Steve x Bucky

AN: I meant to post this tomorrow but I realised today was Chris Evans’ birthday as well as @jtargaryen18​ who inspired me to start writing so I decided to post it early in celebration. This is also the first chapter of my entry to @that-damn-girl​ pride writing challenge. I would like to say a massive thank you to @imanuglywombat​ for the absolutely stunning moodboard and @magdaleneruth​ for being an awesome beta! 

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

He couldn’t believe it. 

Even watching the flyer hang from the board on the wall with his own two eyes, Steve could barely remember the conversation with Nat that led to this moment as he was sat on a bench outside a classroom for the first time in eighty years. 

He hadn’t drawn seriously in decades, probably since before the Battle of New York. The rest had just been little doodles, here and there. Nothing really came from it. But here he was  standing in the doorway of a studio, ready for a life drawing class. 

Steve couldn’t understand the nerves racking his body—he was Captain America for crying out loud, he’s been in far worse situations than attending an art class. 

Why on earth couldn’t he bring himself to walk through a silly little doorway? He was pulled from his thoughts by a soft delicate voice. 

‘Excuse me...’ He was pulled from his thoughts by a voice, soft and delicate. His head snapped to the left, his jaw drifting slightly ajar as he took you in. ‘Are you headed inside?’ You were dressed casually, a warm jacket over what was clearly a man’s button down shirt and your jeans had little doodles on the rough denim canvass. Little splats of paint here and there coated the entire look.  Steve didn’t know quite why, but he was immediately enticed. 

‘I - uh, yeah. I am, sorry I’m in your way.’ He hastily moved out of the doorway, gesturing for you to enter first but you didn’t make a move as your eyes clearly sized him up and he was thankful he had pulled the dark blue baseball cap low over his brow. It wasn’t much in terms of a disguise but that paired with the thick beard that coated his jaw made it harder for the average person to recognise him.

‘Is this your first drawing class?’ You framed it as a question, but it was clear you already knew the answer.

He nodded a little sheepishly. ‘How could you tell?’

‘You just seem a little nervous. Don’t worry, though. It’s really not as scary as it might seem. I remember when I first signed up, I was terrified that someone would say I wasn’t good enough for the class. I could barely keep my hands steady. So, naturally, that turned out to be one of the worst drawings of my life but no one said a word. You have nothing to worry about - you don’t need to prove yourself here.’ 

‘Anytime, but if you are going to come in I suggest you do it sooner rather than later. Madame Maxine absolutely hates tardiness and it’s nearly seven.’ You gave him a small but genuine smile before you excused yourself, your hips swaying slightly as you walked through the doorway and over to an easel. 

He let out a sigh of relief when you’d left - it gave him some privacy to hype himself up and quiet the inner critic screaming his anxieties.Taking a steadying breath, he followed your footsteps and headed for an unclaimed easel towards the back as the rest of the class made idle chit chat, clearly all familiar with one another as they readied themselves for the lesson.

He rolled out his shoulders before sitting on the small stool, pulling his sketchbook and set of charcoal pencils from his satchel. It was a mixed media class and Steve watched in awe as some people set canvases up on their easels, their palets already covered with various colours of paint. 

He felt woefully underprepared with his worn leather bound sketchbook and collection of pencils, but it was how he had always drawn. His mother had barely been able to afford the splurge for real drawing pencils, nevermind paints or canvases. 

There was a portly man standing in the corner of the room stretching his muscles this way and that, and he figured this must be their model for the day. Most of the drawing Steve had done in the past few years had been of inanimate objects, it was much easier than asking one of his many busy friends to sit still for a few hours as he drew them. If he’d felt more in the mood for a portrait, he generally used photographs as a reference point, so having a real live model would be a nice change.

A few more minutes passed before an elderly woman entered the room. Her hair was grey and her curls frayed out in every direction from the messy bun she has tied it in. She wore a green and yellow bandana around her face keeping her hair away and a matching flowy dress with a dark blue half apron tied around her waist. Immediately, Steve knew this woman had to be Maxine. 

She clapped her hands together, drawing the class’s attention as she neared the front of the room. ‘Good evening, I am Maxine Winnefred and I will be your instructor over the next few weeks as we explore the human form. I recognise some of you from my Summer course focussed on the true form of still life in fruits and flowers, and I would just like to say it’s lovely to see you all again.’ She smiled as her eyes rested on those who must be the familiar faces. 

‘To the new faces in the room, there are a few things you should know about me.While I do understand everyone has lives outside of the art world, tardiness remains unacceptable as a hard and fast rule–especially where live models are concerned. Secondly, whether about your own piece or someone else’s, I will not stand for any negative thoughts. We are all here to learn and the only way you can truly achieve that is with a positive mindset. If you feel negatively about a particular piece of yours, you must think of it as a stepping stone. What did you do wrong? What can you improve on next time? The human form is incredibly complicated and it may take a while getting used to if you’re not familiar with it.’

‘Since you have all elected to pay for the entire course, if for some reason you are unable to make it to a session, I also run a Thursday night class. You must call me and let me know that you will be attending that class as I will need to make sure there are enough easels and stools. I will hand out my number at the end of class. Are there any questions?’ 

Although it had barely been five minutes, Steve could already tell he would enjoy this class, especially being under Maxine’s tutelage. She had a no nonsense air that was rare to find in the art world and despite this being a fairly casual, once a week type of get together, Steve knew she took her work seriously. She wanted all of her pupils to be their best. 

The room fell into silence as her eagle eye flickered around the sea of faces. When moments had passed in silence, she continued. 

‘This is Jerry,’ she held her arm out, becaning the man over. ‘He will be our first model. We will be drawing him for the first two weeks, once with clothes and once without, we will then move onto our next model and the same process will follow.’ Everyone nodded their heads in understanding but Steve felt his cheeks flush slightly. He had known that there would be nude models and he knew that it was all purely professional but still… the small kid from the forties never would have even thought about doing something like this. 

‘Right. Jerry,’ she clapped her hands again, eyes locked on just where her model would go in the scene. ‘If you could please get into position A, we can get started. To the class, we’ll have him sit for an hour and twenty minutes. Then another hour after that with a break in between. Somewhere in there we’ll have a vote on whether or not we would like to see a new pose or the same.’ Maxine checked the time as Jerry found his seating on the lone stool in the front of the room. Once he was in position, she prompted the class to begin.

Although he’d been wanting to avoid detection, Steve was deeply regretting choosing a seat so far from the front. On the surface level, his better than average eyesight would be acceptable - and yet, being the perfectionist that he was, he wanted to get up and close with Jerry. He wanted to be able to mark every tiny blemish on his skin, every line of sadness or laughter.

Steve sighed to himself before he picked up his HB pencil, getting to work on his main outline. He hadn’t been working long when he felt a presence at his shoulder, peering over at his work. He’d just finished the vague outline of Jerry’s clothes and the stool beneath him when she spoke. ‘Back in my day, it was considered rude to wear a hat indoors, Mr…?’

He had to at least try and hide his smile over her words, being at least forty years her senior. 

‘Just Steve.’ Quickly he swiped the cap from his head, placing it down in his satchel on the floor. ‘I’m sorry ma’am.’

‘That’s okay son, just don’t let it happen again.’ She gave him a small smile before setting off, perusing the pieces of the other artists and Steve got back to work. 

+

His neck ached from the awkward position it had been contorted to for the past ninety minutes. He could feel the muscles in his hand beginning their protest. It had been a long time since he’d drawn so intently and he wasn’t used to it quite yet.

He stood from his stool, stretching out his back as he did so, wandering over to the small table of refreshments after a few moments. He swiped a lemon biscuit from the tray, catching sight of you from his periphery. You were gesturing wildly as you chatted up an older fellow. Your face was the picture of sincerity and Steve couldn’t help but smile as he eavesdropped. 

‘One of these days you have to teach me your shading technique, Albert. The way you make a simple shadow have so much depth and colour is incredible,’ you gushed.

‘So long as you teach me how you do the detail work around the eyes. Whenever I try, they just come out looking blank!’ he shot back with a smile on his lips. 

‘It’s a deal.’ You held your hand jokingly Albert took it, shaking it vigorously as you chuckled. Feeling his eyes on you, your head quirked in Steve’s direction and you quickly excused yourself.

Steve tried to busy himself and pretend that he hadn’t been caught awkwardly staring at you but your footsteps were growing closer by the second.

‘So? How are you feeling, newbie? Not as daunting as you thought, huh?’ There was a small teasing smile playing along the corner of your lips and Steve couldn't help but laugh along with you. 

‘I really don’t know why I was so nervous, but what you said… Well, it really helped. So, thank you for that. I assume you took Maxine’s summer course?’ he asked, trying to make conversation.

‘Yeah, it was a fruit and flower class, plus I also took her winter human form class before that. I fell hard for portraits, so I just knew I had to take it again this year.’ Steve nodded in understanding, taking a class this way was the perfect opportunity to work on portraiture. ‘And what about yourself? I may have snuck a peek at your easel. You have an incredible eye from what I can tell. How did you capture such detail in only pencils?’

Steve felt his face heat as he took your compliment. ‘I’m honestly not quite sure, but I’ve had a lot of practice. Growing up, I was bedridden more often than not and my best friend used to come over and sit with me for hours. I probably know his face better than my own.’ He felt the familiar pang that echoed around his heart every time he thought of Bucky and those days that stretched into nights when all he would do was stare at the other man, trying to capture his beauty on the page. Steve forced himself to shake off the memories to try and keep his tone light. He hadn’t intended on saying something so personal but there was just something about you that made him want to let down his guard and that was dangerous. 

‘Really? You were bedridden?’ Your mouth gaped slightly and Steve couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes danced slightly down his body. ‘But you look so perfect now - I mean, uh. You look… You look very healthy.’

He smiled, trying not to laugh as dread coated your face. He’s reminded so much of the man he left behind all those years ago…the boy in the back of the car, driving through Brooklyn, although he had to admit, you were far cuter than he had ever been.

‘How long have you been painting for?’ Steve tried to brush the conversation away, he liked talking to you just as a fellow artist and he wasn’t ready for you to recognise him. ‘You’re very talented.’

‘Oh, it’s just sort of a hobby that I do in my spare time. I went to uni and got an Arts degree, but you know how it goes. It only gets you so far in the real world.’ 

‘If you’re not an artist, what do you do for a living?’

‘I’m a secretary at a law firm.’ He nodded trying to maintain control of his thoughts. Being a secretary wasn’t a filler job for a woman any more. Not like it had been in his day. ‘You?’

‘Oh…’ The question took him completely by surprise and his mind went blank. He needed to think fast. ‘I uh… I work for Stark Enterprises. I’m on his PR team.’ Steve tried to justify it in his mind as it wasn’t a complete lie he was a part of the PR team. Plus, he couldn’t have said he was a scientist or something. It would have been clear he was lying if you asked him any type of even remotely science question. 

‘Ah, maybe that’s why you look kind of familiar. Are you a part of his press conferences?’ 

Steve nodded, feeling his throat start to tighten. He wasn’t ready for this to end. Call him selfish but he didn’t want this to end. For someone to treat him as he was, rather than who he was. He hadn’t felt so at home with himself, with someone else, in a long time.

He was saved from further interrogation by the chime of a bell. The ten minute break was up. The group had already opted to keep Jerry in the same reclined pose, so he quickly found his position and the class returned to their sketching. 

While Steve tried to keep his eyes focussed on his drawing, he couldn’t help the constant flicker of his eyes over to where to sat, paintbrush in hand, looking like one of the Greek Muses. 

He only prayed you were one of the merciful ones. 

+

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[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Life After Snowpiercer: Adjusting To The Everyday Life

Summary- 5.4k Curtis Everett x You. The new way of life is becoming routine, and your starting to adjust. Curtis does his best to help you along. Warnings- swearing, hints of smut, talk of pregnancy. 

A/N- yea, it's a slower chapter, I suppose like a filler. But this was the mood I was in, so this is what happened.  

A/N2- To see the story behind the picture, read this short- Surprise

Chapter 10 / Masterlist

Slowly the new room was becoming 'Home', it had been a couple weeks since Curtis brought you to the room, and together you two cleaned it out of the personal stuff that couldn't be used, and you took the time to bring down yours and his few belongings. Since settling in, he brought you two a couple changes of clothing, and for the first time in years, you were able to give both of your clothes a proper wash. A few things were just unable to be saved, one of his jackets, you just couldn't salvage, but the other couple you could. Part of you wished you were able to clean out your bunk in the tail-end. But it was a days travel through the deep snow to get back to the car, and you couldn't bring yourself to mention it to Curtis, not when there was so much going on.

Maybe someday. 

But there was one thing you knew made it from the tail-end, cause Curtis carried it with him everywhere, and that was the slightly smudged charcoal drawing you commissioned back when you knew it was close to Curtis’s birthday before the riot, and you had seen him tuck it away when you two first moved in. So when you opened the drawer and it wasn't safely tucked in the folds of your few clothes, you felt your heart catch. “No, where is it?!”

Starting to pull out the items from the drawer, and shaking them out, your panic got the best of you, and you were searching among the bedding stored there when Curtis walked into the room to find you on your knees, looking under the bed, among all the stuff on the floor. “Baby, what is going on?” And he was shocked further to see you come out from under the bed with tears brimming your eyes. “Curtis I can't find it, and I saw you put it away.”

Confused, he used his boots to gently push stuff aside and squatted down next to you, gripping your chin to have you look at him. “Put what away Babygirl?” His brows are raised well above his beanie in concern and you sniffle in his hold. “The drawing of us, the picture. I could have sworn you put it in the dresser before your shower the other night, and now...” your hands pick up one of his shirts as if the picture will just fall out from underneath it. Curtis’s blue eyes snap in understanding and he lets you go, opening his jacket and pulling out a slightly bent out of shape paper.

“I got it right here, sorry Babygirl. I just usually carry it on me for safekeeping. I put it away the other day cause we were going to be working on the water, and didn't want it to get ruined.” He handed it over and your teary face turns into an uplifted one, careful when you took it. “Of course! Curtis, I don't know where my head's at these days. Everything is just... “ You sigh, and looked at him apologetically. You've been terribly emotional the past few days, and you've either been mad at Curtis or crying over nothing. Shaking his head, he grunted to move to a stand, taking your hands and drawing you up.

“It's okay, I don't need to carry it anymore.” He used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe at your cheeks. “What did you want to do with it?” You look at the picture and smile again, it simply made you happy and you pointed to a spot above the door. “Can you hang it up? Then this place can be officially home.” You held it back out and he took it, there was a lip of steel running along the wall just above the door, and Curtis arched to his toes to get high enough and set it on the beam, stepping back. “How's it look Babygirl?” His arm moving around your waist and pulling you in front of him. Letting yourself lean back against his chest while studying the picture sitting above your doorway, you tilted your head up to look at him. “Perfect, Welcome Home.”

It was so easy to make you happy, Curtis let his hands slide around to your midsection and just hold you there, kissing your tilted back forehead. “It is perfect.” He really couldn't remember when he had been happier, everything was going okay, the people were settling in and accepting this new way of living, the greenhouse was thriving, as well as the remaining animals that survived the crash. People were eating actual food, for the first time in 17 years, at least for the tail-enders. You actually we're coming around to more affection, although he would wake up to find you worrying yourself in the dark now and then, you were far easier to coax into his arms and fall back asleep. Assuring you that whatever happened, you two would deal with it together.

That was the last part, waiting to see if you were actually pregnant or not. I could see it worrying you, making you fret when you thought no one was paying attention. And Matt. Matt, Curtis was at a loss of what to do with that fucker. He was still locked in the Car they stuffed him in weeks ago. But you insisted on once a day walks with him, and Curtis to. There was no way in hell he was leaving you alone with Matt. Brother or Not. Speaking of which, Curtis knew what was coming and you turned to look up at him, the question in your eyes.

“Can we go see Matt now Curtis?” you worried your bottom lip, always seeming to be nervous to ask, although he never told you no. Today was no different, kissing your forehead.

“Only if your up for it Babygirl.” He said with a bit of hesitancy, simply cause not even 20 minutes ago you had been in a full panic. But you nodded with affirmation, and grabbed at your jacket, and stuffed a hat on your head since usually you all went outside for the fresh air and sunshine, although still bitterly cold. So many years in the dark, you especially couldn't get enough of the sun. Curtis would find you often standing outside, lips blue with your eyes tilted into the sun, seeming to soak it in. The man pictured you soaking it in, light was drawn to light. Why you were drawn to him, he didn't know. Leading you down the aisle, his hand resting in the small of your back.

Snapping open the heavy door between cars, you leaped over the gap, and worked Matt's car open, and light spilled into the darkness to show Matt leaning against a wall. One arm hooked over his knee, lifting his head to scowl at the two of them, you went in wringing your hands and smiling hopefully. Curtis right behind you, a dark imposing figure scowling. The complete opposite of your hopefulness. “Hey Matt, how you feeling today?”

Matt snorted and tugged on the heavy livestock chains around his ankle. “Fucking fantastic Dear Sister. Living the fucking dream.” Curtis snarled out while digging for the locks keys in his pocket and handing you off a knife for protection in case Matt happened to overpower him. “Cut the shit, Matt. She didn't come here for you to be a little bitch.” Cutis squatted down and yanked his leg into the light enough so he could see the lock. Matt seemed to somber a bit. “Been better Y/N, thanks for asking.” His hand moved to his now bare ankle rubbing at the red ring. Curtis stood and reached to grasp Matts forearm, bringing him up to a stand.

This was ritual by now, You and Matt walking ahead just a little, Curtis not far behind. Close enough that should Matt try to put a hand on you, Curtis would snap your brother's neck. It was a promise he made to Matt when you first started this. Otherwise, Curtis didn't interfere with your conversation. Most of the time. Your hands were stuffed in your sleeves as you trudged along, your voice optimistic, hopeful that Matt would engage back. “The greenhouses are really thriving Matt, they survived the crash intact for the most past. A bit of the pipework bringing the water in got damaged, but we've been regularly melting snow to compensate.”

“You think You all will be able to keep up with that? Eventually, the water is going to run out. Without the train moving anymore, it's not gathering any to store in the tanks.” Matt smirked as if he was dropping some devastating news, looking between you and Curtis.

“Were keeping a close eye on the tanks, and only using that for stuff absolutely necessary. Everything else... well we're covered in snow.” You kicked at the Frozen snow covering the ground. But he was right, eventually the water would become an issue, just like the power. The whole train was temporary. Eventually they will have to move, see if they can find something more suitable for the group on the outside of one of the cities. Of course, they were estimating where they were on the tracks. Curtis, Edgar, and John having dug through Wilford's main car a few weeks ago and came across maps. If their estimations are right, they were somewhere in what was once Russia.

A massive landscape staring at the map. But dotted with cities. All Curtis had to do was convince the council that packing up a small scouting party and seeing if they were near any of the major cities, it would mean more supplies available to them. They had to get off the train, all its resources were going to run out eventually. Wilford never prepared for the Snowpiercer to ever be at a standstill. These worries were settled at the back of Curtis mind, but these walks with Matt, he was sure to remind them of it. Even you sobered a bit after Matts little jibe.

“We will deal with it when it comes up Matt.” You wanted to reach out, staring at Matt. God, he looked so much like your father, just not the coldness. Your father always so welcoming and open, Matt though sniffed either from the cold or distaste to your answer. “Well, we were able to deal with it till your man insisted on crashing the train. We would certainly not be stranded in the middle of fucking Russia. Couldn't have planned that a little better Curtis. Crashed us somewhere with resources at least? But you never think ahead, do you Everett. Always just brute Force and no couth, is there anything between those ears?” Matt hissed at him, his rage crossing his face once more.

Once more he got the best of your temper as he was bad-mouthing Curtis for those few seconds before Curtis could put a stop to Matts ranting, you pushed against your brother's chest, sending him sprawling in surprise. Curtis actually had to hide a chuckle of surprise himself, but you were furious and snarling at your brother. “Jesus Christ, your just... Cruel all the time, aren't you. Fuck you, Matt. Curtis, I'm done.” You turned away and brushed past Curtis, in which he shook his head, and went to collect Matt, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and pushing him forward. “Ya know, you would think you would learn to at least treat her decent since shes the only one who gives a shit about you and why you're still alive.”

Matt snorted as he trudged back through the snow, following your quicker paced form as you reached the outskirts of the camp once more.

“Maybe it's time she grew up Curtis, quite thinking that any of us are out for more than ourselves.”

“Well your certainly proving that to her aren't you,” Curtis growled as they to reached the outskirts of the camp, the snow here all pounded down from people walking on it all day long. “When that day comes and she gives up on you entirely, what do you think is going to happen to you?” Curtis said darkly, and Matt eerily grinned. “Be the day I end up going free.”

“We will see about that.” Curtis pushed him back up the stairs and into the darkness of his car once more. Matt plopped on the mattress while Curtis went to lock him back up, Matt watching him closely, and to the open door, debating. Curtis even though he wasn't looking at him knew his thoughts. “Try it and it won't end good for you Matt.” Wait, we got to wait... The younger man thought, instead getting himself comfortable. Their guard won't be up forever.

You just had to get away, even managing friendly conversations was out of your wheelhouse right now, and you stomped back to your room, and slammed the door behind you as if you were a child all over again, grabbing a pillow off the perfectly made bed this morning and sitting on the edge of it, you screamed into it. What was it going to take to get the meanness out of Matt?! You have done nothing but be good to him short of letting him go free, had even managed to get Curtis to reluctantly agreed that if there was any change, they would see about giving him a bit more freedom. But nothing you tried softened him. Nothing. Ripping off your jacket and hat, you shoved them away into the chair when you sat down, and you just suddenly felt drained. All over, like it all just seeped from you.

Sighing, you lift your hands and rub at your face, glancing up at the picture hanging above the door. That made you smile, thinking back on earlier when Curtis hung it up for you. Maybe it's not all bad, and you shrug off the negativity being around your brother brings on you. Changing into something not as warm, you decide the best way to spend the rest of the day was helping in the greenhouse, and maybe the kitchen. Things would be okay, you were doing more than surviving, you all were actually living.

When you left the car and headed towards the greenhouse, you didn't even glance at the car that held Matt, giving it a wide berth, entering the greenhouse, immediately the earthy smell the plants gave off was as good to you as feeling the sun on your face. A musty heaviness of dirt, greenery, and water. All over the labors of the past few weeks showed with healthy trees bearing apples, bright and red. Green sprouts of leaves down rows and rows, all edible. Even now one of the people who worked the kitchen was picking bundles, piling them in her apron. “How do you know what is ready?” You asked, wandering down the aisle while piling your hair behind your head and trying it off.

“Easy child.” The older worker said, holding out a leaf that was full and vibrant for you to take. “Go ahead, taste it.” You ripped off a piece of it and slipped it in your mouth, when the tender leaf crushed between your teeth, vibrant fresh bitterness flooded your mouth, your taste buds still getting used to food. “When these bunches are all full like this, it's meant to be picked.”

“What is this?” Unable to help yourself, you ripped off another piece and chewed on it, getting the same overwhelming effect from before. “Kale. I will sautee this just a bit in some marrow, and put it in a soup for the camp today. Shave off some of that meat off a hock in the freezer, add those new baby potatoes we have at the end.” The older woman continued on, bringing you to where the rows of potatoes were hidden from view, her fingers digging into the dirt and dragging up the bulbs, shaking the dirt off them. “We get enough of them, and you have yourself a meal.”

You dug your fingers into the moist wet dirt, the sensation oddly familiar and weird, bringing back memories of planting flowers with your mother in the front of the house. The woman watched her with interest, taking in your reaction to it all. “Yer from the back, aren't ya?” You nodded slightly, and carefully brushed off the dirt encasing the baby potatoes. “Yes, one of the tail enders who came up with Curtis.”

“Ahh, yes. Thought you looked familiar. What your man did letting us go took a lot of guts, not many would have that. Trust me, very few of us have much to thank Wilford for or have any reason to give him loyalty. My name is Tess by the way.”

“It was touch and go, but it was the right thing to do. We can't start living a new life following the old ways.” You shrugged and Tess smiled at your words, her wrinkles lining around her eyes deepening.

“Like hearing wisdom come right out of the babes mouth. I could use your help if you don't mind. Getting this camp fed is a couple people process, It's my turn to water but I got to get this all started up. Feeding all these people is a lot different than just cooking for Wilford.” She continued placing potatoes in her apron. “all-day process, and the only way we don't burn through what we got stored. You mind watering for me?”

“Be a pleasure to.” You assured her and you took over where she had left off. Curtis came later to find you, having poked his head in earlier to see you were settled into a project after dealing with Matt, he didn't want to bother you. But now it was getting late, and after pouring over the maps in what they turned into a meeting space of sorts with the rest of the “council” they formed, passing ideas of where to go, and how to proceed, he was tired. The sky was starting to darken, and spending a quiet evening with you really was all he wanted at this point. Figuring you would be where he had left you, Curtis shrugged off his jacket as he went into the humid car, glancing around, and walking down the aisle, checking the rows till he found you, kneeling while using your hands to churn dirt, snipping off any dead leaves on each individual plant, a small trailer left behind you.

“There you are... was wondering where you had gotten off to.” Heavy boots thudded the floor and you looked up in surprise. Your hair curling around your temples and a streak of dirt across your forehead, you gave him the sweetest smile that Curtis would have sworn made his heart skip a beat. “You've been in here all afternoon, think it's time we call it a day.” Hand reaching for yours, you hesitate cause yours are dirty, but a wiggle of his fingers, enticed you, and you let him pull you up. “It can't be that late, it's still light.”

“In here, artificial lighting for the plants.” Leading you to a window, you leaned into his side, looking at the way the sky was painted in so many vibrant hues.

“Alright, maybe I did lose track of time. I only meant to stay in here for a couple hours.” You admitted and he laughed, his arm resting around your waist.

“Come on, let's go eat.”

As becoming another regular was all eating dinners together. Tess would bring out whatever, and those that didn't have something stored away would come to get a bit of whatever she made that day. Groups of you would sit together, and slowly it was a mingling of people. Today you sat at Curtis’s side, sipping from a cup he brought you, and across from you, Edgar and Yona did the same as you, Yona talking about what she was doing with the kids. The kids, it was hard to think of them as the trains orphans anymore. They simply seemed to just belong to everyone now, no longer separating the train in classes as before.

“Teach them some manners, the little shites.” Edgar teased Yona, and you nudged your boot against his leg to get his attention.

“Excuse you, you were no peach either Edgar. Always sassing when you didn't get your way.” You smirked back at him over your cup as you sipped from it, Yona giggling at his side, and he narrowed his eyes at You. “I was a great kid! I listened. Kinda.”

“Right. Just as good as you listen now.” Curtis laughed deeply, moving to get up, and held out a hand to take the emptied dishes to bring them back to the kitchen. You moved to a kneel, beckoning Edgar to turn around. “Let me look at your back, see how that scar is healing.” Pushing himself from the wall, he twisted, and hiked the back of his shirt up. You leaned in closer, tracing around it for a moment. “Sore any? It looks really good, considering what happened.”

He pulled away and tugged his shirt down, giving a roll of his shoulder. Whenever the matter of his scar came up, he would go quiet. “It’s a'right. Tender once in a while, especially when hauling stuff.”

“Yea, you probably should have waited to do the cleanup.”

“Well, it had to be done.” He stated, and Yona next to him frowned slightly studying him. But Curtis coming back distracted them from the conversation, and you yawned, pushing to a stand.

“Doesn't matter if it had to be done, still should have waited. Night.” Biding your goodbye to your companions, a hot shower sounded excellent, and Curtis came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle.

“You okay?” a soft kiss was pressed just at the hollowed curve of your neck, and you let your hands weave over the top of his around your stomach. “Yea, just super tired suddenly. Been feeling this way most of the day. I'm sure it's nothing. “

He lifted his head and frowned hearing that. “You sure you shouldn't go see Price? Could be something.” You turned just as you reached the door, and pulled yourself in close against him with a fist of your hands in his shirt, leaning up to tease your lips against his. “Handsome, I'm fine. Tired is all... I promise.” Blue eyes looked slightly doubtful, but he relented and the two of you went into the room.

“Would you tell me if you thought otherwise?” Curtis locked the door while you started stripping out of the dirtied clothing to escape into the bathroom. Curtis caught just a glimpse of your backside, and inhaled sharply. No sex for the past month and half was starting to in ways he didn't care for. But it didn't matter, there was no way in hell he was going to try anything until you were ready. Instead, he set about taking off his boots, sitting on the edge of the bed to untie them, make himself comfortable.

In the bathroom, you turned on the water and slipped in before it got hot. Not wanting to waste any water, and tipped your head back to moisten your hair, and start scrubbing it, getting the dirt and sweat out from earlier. Then getting ready to wash your body, you looked down and saw red swirling by your feet. Your hands start roaming over your body quickly without thinking, a panicked cry out. “Curtis!” You twist in the shower, looking behind you to see if your cut anywhere and it hits you.

You had your period. If came... You weren't pregnant.

And that moment relief flooded you so intensely, you slid to the floor of the tub, somewhere between a cry and laugh of relief, Curtis burst into the bathroom, in response to you calling his name. “Y/M?! Baby, you okay?” He opened the curtain to find you sitting on the bottom, and immediately scanned you going to his knees. Cupping your face as you had it pressed to your knees, making you lift up to look at him. Your body shaking slightly under his hold. “What is wrong?” and that's when he caught the bit of red escaping down the drain. “Fuck, where are you hurt?” He is shifting you forward and you finally regain yourself enough to put a stop to him.

“I'm fine, I'm okay. Turn the water off and hand me a towel?” You ask and he reached over to turn it off, worried eyes finding you again and his hands seeking to look for whatever was causing you to bleed, but you grab his hands to make him focus on you. “It came Curtis. I'm not pregnant.”

His face is just stunned, his shirt half clinging to him from where he had leaned into the spray to check on you, and you couldn't help but giggle at the way he looked, blinking water out of his face before he repeated what you said. “You're not pregnant...?” the realization flooded his expression to relief and you nodded with a grin. “You're not pregnant!” He repeated and drew you into his arms, hugging each other out of relief. “Oh Babygirl, thank god. Are you okay?” He leaned back to look at you, and moved to get up and grab a towel, holding it open for you. Pulling yourself to a stand, you step into it, feeling prominently better then you had since you were raped.

“Relief Curtis, I just feel light as air. I didn't know what we were going to do if I was.” You pressed your face into his chest, breathing in deeply while he rubbed your back through the towel.

“We would have done everything we could, just like for any other child,” Curtis assured you, thanking everything under the moon and stars though that you weren't made to go through that as well as everything else that had happened. You mumbled in his chest, and lifted your face to look up at him. “I will go see Price in the morning, just to be sure.”

“Thank you.” Curtis kissed your forehead and let his hands cup your face, kissing you in that slow way that made your heart flutter, you opened to him, your tongue sliding with his and a soft moan between you two. Curtis pulled back and let his forehead rest against yours, his hands had fallen to your hips and his fingers flexed through the terry cloth. “You better get dressed Babygirl.” Both your eyes closed, merely breathing in each other before he moved to kiss your forehead and released you.

Curtis left you to pull on a large tee, it swept well down your thighs that you've been sleeping in as we as well as a pair of panties with a liner, brushing all your hair out, and debating about putting it up, you recalled that Curtis loved your long hair. Spreading it around your shoulders, you brush it out more till it's soft waves were shining, and once you checked to make sure any mess was gone. Flicking off the switch you came into the room being dark, Curtis sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you to get in since you always slept against the wall. When he saw you, his hands opened up and you happily stepped into them, resting your cheek against the top of his head.

Nuzzling against your ribcage for a moment, and his hands sliding up and down along your sides, you let your fingers slide through the back of his head, and along his neck. “Today was a good day, right?” You ask softly while lifting your head to look at him. Your hands settled on his bare shoulders. Curtis lifted his head just a bit and looked up at you, flattening his hands against the small of your back and pulling you in closer. “It was a good day Babygirl.” His hands lightly pressed against the back of your thighs and you shifted to straddle him, letting your forehead rest against his. “Even with everything that happened today, it was a good day.” His arm tightened around you and shifted back with a slight roll so he could lay you down and shifted to his side next to you.    

Loping an arm around your hip and kissing your shoulder, you slid in closer to his heat while he dragged the blankets that was collected. You felt him relax under your fingers playing in his hair, and although you didn't fall into the same lull that he did, his breathing turned shallower, soft snores rolling from his chest. Twisting to your side, his hand instinctively tightened around you, but you weren't going anywhere. Your gaze was able to follow the lines of his face from the window right behind your head, casting the room in a silver glow. Your thoughts drifted.

You were lucky, You knew it. Curtis had been with you since practically you came on the train, kept you alive and safe. You've done what you could to show your love back over the years, but you knew in this you wouldn't still be here if it wasn't for him. Even these past few weeks, surviving through the revolt, he didn't even realize it was coming back to him that saved her from the attackers. Everyone was so focused on surviving, they forgot why they survived.

If it wasn't for Curtis, they would be wasted away in the darkness, a forgotten memory of a past life.

And he never asked for anything in return. Not really. Not even during this time where you were slowly opening back up did he push for me. And another day, another time you would have fallen into that mind-frame that he no longer wanted you. But you knew better, just that morning you happened to see him relieving himself in the shower, barely catching whispers of your name, just under the sounds of his grunts. You knew he was trying to be quiet, not wanting to pressure you.

A soft shift and your name brought you out of your thoughts, and Curtis was leaning on his elbow, blue eyes searching your face. “What's on your mind Babygirl?” he had expected you to deal with some conflicting emotions since finding out that you were not pregnant, but you just looked at him with a soft expression, leaning into him and kissing him deeply, your hands clutching his shoulders and leaning back, bringing him along, and the kisses turned more feverish. Curtis groaned against your lips and down along your jawline, hissing softly against your neck. “Are you sure?” His head lifted, his hands cupping your face to search you for any doubt, any sign that you didn't want him to touch you and make love to you.

Your hands splayed over his chest raised just above you, spreading your fingers through the crisp dark scattering of hair and hummed softly in appreciation of the feeling against your palms, nodding. “Please Curtis... I miss you. But I'm scared.”

His head tilted and those kisses against your neck went to your face, each one a well placed soft brushed of lips warming you. “scared of what Babygirl?”

“What-what if I'm broken?” Your brows furrowed, and your fingers eased to his back, tracing along the flexing of muscles.

“Babygirl, you're not broken. I promise.” Curtis rubbed along your hip under your shirt. “But there's no rush Y/N.”

Your eyes roamed him and then your hands folded into your shirt and you pulled it off, letting it fall off the end on the bed.

“Show me.” You lean back into the pillows, and then Curtis shifted, wide shoulders blocking out the rest of the room as he leaned over you, leaving you gasping underneath him. Tilting your head back to give him access to your neck, outside, the stars.

There were so many stars and those desired kisses on your neck, his calloused hand sliding along your skin.

Your breathing came out in rushes, the stars going blurry in your vision. Curtis's hand grasped your chin lightly and made you look at him. 

"Babygirl, I got you. Your safe."

@what-is-your-plan-today​ @p8tn0lish​ @jtargaryen18​ @stardancerluv​ @princess-evans-addict​ @patzammit​ @fckdeusername​ @that-damn-girl​ @curtisbbq​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​ @thatweirdwalangpake​ @simsadventures     

[altumvidetur]

Haikyuu!! Fic Recs (BokuAka)

Fic Recs Masterpost

So, I was thinking about the coronavirus pandemic and what I could do to help people out. I’m isolated because I’m at higher risk, so I can’t really offer to go out for my elderly neighbors or my family… but I thought I could try to help keep people entertained.

Because I don’t have an AO3 account right now, I’ve been compiling fic recs for my own amusement for a year or so. And I thought – maybe that’s the time to share these with everyone? So everyone will have plenty of things to read while they have to stay at home, or even to escape anxiety a little bit if you’re forced to go out.

Of course, these cater to my own tastes, so you may find stuff you don’t like around here. I never include works in progress. The Mature and Explicit works will be in italic. I ask you to READ THE WORK’S TAGS before continuing, so you won’t find anything that makes you uncomfortable.

I’ve decided to split it in a series of posts, starting with my OTPs. This time it’s BokuAka’s turn!

cookies and cream, by norio

Some people might tell Akaashi that he couldn't bake his worries away.

But some people haven't dated Bokuto Koutarou.

dozens of red roses, by norio

“And what’s the boyfriend getting for Bokuto’s birthday?” Kuroo asked, mirthful grin on his face.

“Oh,” Akaashi said, distracted by the magazine. “The next time he visits the dentist, I’ll pay for half what the insurance doesn’t cover.”

The silence dropped around the store like a chilling and killing frost.

i put my hand out, unfolded, into the sunlight, by carafin

In which Bokuto Kotarou is woefully inept at conveying his feelings, and Akaashi Keiji has a sort-of superpower. Sort of.

-

Next to him, Komi is chewing his cupcake dutifully, albeit with obvious effort. Washio has assumed a completely neutral expression on his face, although Akaashi thinks that his eyes might be watering. Sarukui, having seemingly demolished the entire thing out of sheer willpower alone, looks like he deeply regrets every single choice that has led to this precise moment in his life.

‘It isn’t too bad, huh?’ Bokuto says, grinning. ‘I made them in our school colours, so they’re like, marbled black and white chocolate swirls! Do you guys want more?’

Sarukui looks like he might pass out at the thought alone. Komi pauses mid-chew to shake his head weakly.

‘I’ll have more,’ Akaashi says, to the general astonishment of everyone.

better than spy films, by dalyeau

Akaashi knocks Bokuto out and Bokuto falls in love. Kuroo laughs about it.

Maybe We’re Airborne, Baby, by fathomfive

Realizing he's got it bad for his setter is the easy part. But getting his feelings across might be Bokuto's biggest endeavor yet, not counting his literature final or putting out the flames on that birthday cake he tried to bake for Akaashi last year, or—or a lot of things, actually.

But the point still stands. Reaching out to Akaashi is a leap in the dark, and Bokuto wants it more than he's ever wanted anything. He's an expert at seizing his perfect moment, at bringing victory home against the odds. So he's got this, right? It's gonna go great, right? Right?

(After all, it's what you attempt with your own two hands that matters.)

heavy heart, a love apart, by drifloon

(802): Our sex has gotten so much better since we broke up.

Character Development, by silvercistern

"That’s some kinda gratitude. What happened to my painfully polite little brother? I get the ideal guy to take you to prom, and you act like he's not even here!"

"I doubt I’d let him take me to the hospital if I were bleeding to death."

Keiji needs a date. Bokuto needs dating lessons. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

prepare for rain, by norio

“First you must make a delicious bowl of tea; lay the charcoal so the water boils; arrange the flowers as they are in the field; in the summer suggest coolness, in the winter, warmth; do everything ahead of time; prepare for rain; and give those with whom you find yourself every consideration.”

- Sen no Rikyu

cracks in the pavement will lead you home, by deusreks

Bokuto often thinks about Akaashi, especially when he’s running. It’s like his legs know where they’re supposed to take him. He grows into a habit of running a lot, just to keep that feeling going. Cracks and holes in the pavement aren’t fun to jump over if the final reward isn’t seeing Akaashi’s face.

An alternate universe with a little bit of magic and a lot of growing up.

il mio ragazzo falso, by Karasuno Volleygays

With his grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary looming fast and large, Akaashi finds himself urged to bring a date and not quite to the point where his family knows that said date will not be of the female variety.

At some point, he has to decide which will be the least frightening prospect — braving coming out to his family or endure Operation: Find Keiji A Girlfriend 2k15.

And why is the only person he can think of to drag along to this thing his overly-spirited volleyball captain?

#someonepleasesaveakaashi

right in the head, by Mysecretfanmoments

That was the other thing: when Keiji had said he wanted to make his way home, Bokuto had agreed—as if it didn’t matter where they went. He hadn’t said "we should look for a community" or "there’s probably nothing there anymore".

He’d just asked which way.

((the bokuaka zombie au literally no one asked for))

how to become a birder, by norio

“Since I’m Bokuto,” Bokuto said, giving an unnecessarily meaningful look, “You know what I want, right? It’ll be easy! You take pictures of me, I turn them in, my professor says I’m the smartest genius, I graduate, I go play pro, I win the Olympics.”

The World’s Best Kept Secret, by kythen

The struggles of keeping a relationship a secret (when it really isn't a secret at all).

third wheel, by arsenicjay

"So you and Bokuto, huh?"

Akaashi's attention snaps back to Kuroo and he gives the other boy a blank stare. "What about us?"

Or, Kuroo figures out that Bokuto is interested in Akaashi long before Bokuto does himself and being the kind friend that he is, tries to help them along.

cherished, by gabstar

Bokuto tends to panic when Akaashi expresses discomfort or concern. Akaashi didn't need that. Akaashi was better off handling this alone.

((In which Bokuto's love sick, Akaashi's sick-sick, and together they feel a little better))

Kissing Ace, by Karasuno Volleygays

It happens right after training camp.

Akaashi Keiji has a secret he has guarded since he was a child. He won’t go so far as to call it a fear, but more of an aspect of himself of which he is horribly mortified. No one on the team knows about it, and Akaashi does his best to keep it that way. But years of dodging hugs and casual contact come to naught in the blink of an eye and the swipe of a hand.

legs killed the owl, by dalyeau

He's not smiling anymore an hour later, after he's fucked up four perfect spikes that Akaashi tossed carefully for him because he's too distracted by the lean, elegant line of Akaashi's legs, kneepads dark against the white of Fukurodani's gym.

tea-stained polaroids, by dalyeau

“I'm gonna date that,” Bokuto declares solemnly, and Kuroo throws a plastic spoon at his head. 

owls, by ThinkingCAPSLOCK

It was no secret that Bokuto genuinely loved owls, considering his locker was full of them, but Akaashi kept his own like of the animal very low key.

How Bokuto found out otherwise, he didn't know.

all lost souls, by norio

Not again, Akaashi thought. But he had never seen this sight before.

run rabbit run, by norio

Rule #1: Don't hurt Akaashi. Rule #2: Don't taint Akaashi. Rule #3: Don't involve Akaashi. Rule #4: Don't damage Akaashi. Rule #5 (optional): Try not to destroy yourself.

gwah, bam and swoosh, by dalyeau

When Bokuto meets Kageyama the first thing he thinks is, No five year old should be able to scowl like that.

Or be that tall.

Then, Shit, his dad is really hot.

Spoiled, by gabstar

Akaashi desperately needs a new mattress and he drags his loyal, loving, and very loud boyfriend with him.

omam verse, by shionsheart

Though some may believe they're monsters, those closest to them know they're just men learning how to love in this world of magic, demons, and faeries.

i’ll return home one day, by awkwardedgeworth

"Bro," He asks Kuroo out of the blue one day when they're toweling their hair dry, "What if Sawamura is halfway across the world and he only comes home seven times a year for around four days each?"

"I would consider every moment a blessing. You got it bad for Akaashi already?"

"I just wish you would introduce us sooner."

Or, wherein Akaashi is a world famous violinist, Kuroo introduces him to future Olympian-to-be Bokuto Koutarou. And Bokuto pines. A lot.

morning owls, by norio

Most of the time, if Bokuto woke up first, he would shake Akaashi awake. Sometimes he would bake sloppy pancakes for breakfast in bed, and sometimes he would sit on Akaashi's waist.

And sometimes he did not.

Insomniac Olympics, by Aetherdrive

Akaashi never thought he could inspire anyone, let alone an artist -- and then he met Bokuto.

counterclockwise, by miiniwa

How they had gone from point a to point b in such a short amount of time, he doesn't know. But as he dwells on it, he realizes that he doesn't exactly mind.

if kisses were fishes, then i’d be an ocean, by norio

Akaashi needs a fake date partner, so he grabs the first person he sees.

the way you look at me, by ThinkingCAPSLOCK

Bokuto sees him every day, every commute, at the final train. The stranger he only knows as Train Guy. Wrapped in coats, mystery, and distance - that is, until Bokuto breaks their familiar silence. He struggles with the hardest part of befriending someone he thinks he already knows: taking a step back to reevaluate all his assumptions.

He finds the easiest part is getting to learn about Train Guy all over again.