#more love and hope goes into my art than ever. but i still only pour my heart out onto page when its all misery

[7roaches]

prev post has me thinking abt the common phenomenon of ppl who create following a line of thinking that there must be some level of misery present to adequately create. which also leads into the line of thinking that if you lose the misery u’ll lose your spark too. e.g. artists fearing losing their motivation, writers fearing losing their inspiration, comedians fearing losing their funny, etc etc…

[therealvalkyrie]

exactly the spring

Pairing/setting: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Fem!Reader, college!AU

Summary: Reserved biology student Ushijima finds himself falling in love when you, an adorably disorganized art student, wander into the greenhouse.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: fluff, kissing

AN: Hi!! So, the inspiration for this one sprang from the beautiful, sexi brain of Emme ( @doinmybesthere ) way back in MARCH ahem anyway, it's done! I hope it's just as soft and intimate as you envisioned<33 Also, big shoutout to my beautiful friends Arobi ( @daqueenobooty ) and Cee ( @spacelabrathor ) for being wonderful betas and giving me such kind comments:) I hope you enjoy, and as always don't be shy about leaving comments or coming to chat! Be kind to yourselves and others.  ~valkyrie

p.s. check out this amazing art that @/54prowl made of plant boy ushi!! :D

Plants don’t talk back, Ushijima learned as a toddler. He’d babble to them in nonsensical phrases as his mother worked in the garden, and they’d only sway in the wind and listen, waxy under his chubby fingers.

A volleyball doesn’t talk back, either, not even through its bounces and echoes on hands and hard surfaces. It doesn’t listen as easily as plants, but can be herded and shaped like putty into a winning thing if you touch it right. This, Ushijima learned at his father’s hand and carried with him through childhood and adolescence.

The joy and puzzlement of you is that you do both. You listen so intently and openly with your steady eyes and soft body as the words pour out of him. And then, you reply. With your clear voice and new perspective, you offer something new. You offer companionship.

It was the second week of spring semester that you wandered into the greenhouse, eyes lit by the sun and sketchbook under one arm. Ushijima was repotting a large fern, dirt up to his elbows as he kneeled on the floor. He barely gave you a second glance, preoccupied with nestling the plant’s root system comfortably.

You settled a short distance away, crossing your legs to sit on the tile floor in front of an orange tree to sketch its still-closed flower buds with charcoal pencils. He kept working as you did, the sun sliding across glass, shadows shifting into the early evening of winter. When the sun was threatening to set over the city skyline — even with the greenhouse where it sits on the roof of the biology building — he turned to tell you he was closing up, only to find you gone. In your place, sitting on the wooden table that held newly planted basil and sage, was a drawing.

It was a single branch, detailed in shades of charcoal down to the last dewdrop. At the bottom, looping handwriting scrawled, “thank you for the peace.”

That night, he tacked it up above his desk in his dorm next to the postcard from Tendō and hoped you’d come back.

And you do, a couple of days later, on a Saturday. He looks up from where he’s filling in the logbook, this time, catching your gaze and holding it for a moment before you break away to survey the room. Today, he thinks you looked breathtaking. You’re wearing a long, flowing skirt and a sweater that makes him want to feel how soft it is, and how soft you are in it, and by the time his brain catches up with his thoughts, he’s been staring too long and your eyes have wandered back to him. It’s raining, today — it never really snows in this city, he’s learned — and shadowy droplets play across your face as they drip down the greenhouse’s arched glass ceiling, highlighting the curve of your cheekbone and making your eyes glow softly.

He clears his throat and looks back to the thick spiral-bound book on the table before him. Sometimes, when he meets people for the first time, he knows he can come across as intimidating. That worked out for him in high school and on the volleyball court, but in his adulthood, it’s been more of a hindrance than a help. It makes it… difficult to make friends here, where he doesn’t already know anyone.

And the last thing he wants is to scare you away. The last thing he wants is to break the peace you’ve apparently found here.

Which is why he barely dares to breathe when he looks up to find you approaching him where he’s perched on a sturdy wooden stool.

“Hi,” you smile and lilt, and god if it isn’t the most beautiful word Ushijima’s ever heard, if it isn’t the prettiest smile he’s seen.

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t want to scare you away.

“Uhm,” you start again, when the silence makes it clear he’s waiting for you to speak, “I have an art assignment,” you start digging around in your shoulder bag as you speak, “to draw a, um, what’s it called?”

“I don’t know.”

You pause in your rifling and pin him with such a sunny smile it makes his knee start bouncing. And you laugh, too, which officially replaces your “hi” as the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Ha, you’re funny,” you resume digging, “it was um, pretty leafy and... tropical, I think? Oh! Here.” Triumphantly, you produce a wrinkled paper from your bag. It’s the first imperfect thing Ushijima’s found out about you, that you’re shit at keeping your belongings organized, and he files it away for later reference. You hold the paper in front of your face and squint slightly to read in the shifting light. “Canna indica.”

Canna indica, native to tropical climates, notable as a minor food crop for South American Native populations for thousands of years.

“And I was told that you have it, here, in the greenhouse.”

Ushijima nods and finds himself relieved that this is what you’re asking him. Plants, he can do.

“We do. Would you like me to show you?”

“Yes, please,” you also sound relieved, like he’s provided the solution to every problem you’ve ever had.

He unfolds himself from the stool, setting down his pen as he goes. You take a step back and look up at him mildly, as though you hadn’t realized quite how huge he is.

“This way,” he indicates, leading you deeper into the maze that is the biology department’s greenhouse. The winding path back to the tropical room gives him a moment to sink back into the earthy peace of being here, even if now there’s someone sharing that peace.

The temperature change from the warm main greenhouse to the balmy tropical room prompts Ushijima to shed his flannel outer layer, hanging it on the nail hammered by the door while you step in behind him.

“Whew,” you exhale, shrugging off your soft cardigan as well, “it’s hot in here.”

Ushijima hums in agreement and tries not to look too hard at the patch of skin revealed by your cropped tank top. Canna indica isn’t too far into the room, so he just gently moves past draping leaves and ceramic pots.

“Here,” he stops, holding back leaves for you. He stops breathing again when you duck under his arm and end up so close in the narrow aisle that he can smell your shampoo. The moment passes, and he can breathe again when you breeze past him and squat down to peer at the bright, waxy red leaves of your subject.

“Beautiful,” you murmur, and he silently agrees.

You’re leaning so close to the plant he’s afraid you might topple over when you make a noise of realization and sit back on your butt to rifle through your bag once again. Ushijima knows he should probably leave you to it, but he’s glad he waited just an extra minute when you pull out a pair of glasses and pop them on your face. Adorably.

“That’s better.” You’re looking back at canna indica, now, at a normal distance.

He’s figured you’ve forgotten he’s there when you start to pull out pastels from your seemingly bottomless bag, so he turns to leave you.

A soft, “hey,” calls him back to you, however, and he’s met by your face glowing eerily in the shifting rain-light. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome.”

When he locks up that afternoon, he finds another charcoal drawing waiting for him on the table near the door, this time of his favorite agapanthus africanus. No note, this time, but he attaches all the sounds he heard from you today in its place. He also finds your cardigan forgotten next to where you were sitting and carefully folds it for when you come back.

The drawing joins the orange branch on his wall-- an odd starter garden, he thinks, but all the more precious because it came from you.

The next time he sees you isn’t in the greenhouse, but instead at a cafe a couple of blocks away, two weeks later. He’s walking past, gym bag slung over his shoulder, when he hears your laugh ring out across the outdoor seating area. His eyes find you, head tipped back in sending peals of mirth into the lively spring air. It’s the first truly warm day of the season, though you and your companion are the only patrons sitting outside, and the sun catches on your glasses sat atop your head.

Your friend says something apparently hilarious, because your giggles redouble, and an honest-to-god snort pushes out of your nose. Ushijima catalogues it in his ever-growing list of sounds you make, and pauses at the crosswalk, halfway turned back to keep one eye on you and one on the light. If you were alone, he might’ve approached you and told you that he still has your sweater in the greenhouse, waiting on a shelf between succulents, but he doesn’t want to interrupt your— date?

He isn’t sure, but the person sat there with you seems like someone you might date. Clearly also an art student, judging by the carefully disheveled blue hair and combat boots. Are you the type to date someone with blue hair? Unlikely, he decides. You seem too… bright. Too floaty to be so concerned with looking like you don’t care how you look.

Ushijima’s still debating whether you find blue hair attractive when the crosswalk light begins its countdown and he starts across the street. And he almost makes it all the way across, too, when a voice calls—

“Wait! Hey!”

He turns partially because it sounds urgent enough that it might be an emergency, and his grandmother would roll in her grave if he remained a bystander to some horrific accident. But it’s you, standing up from your seat and waving him back over. He glances at the crosswalk countdown, which lights up red as it ticks from four to three, then turns and jogs back towards you, waving a hand apologetically to the cars waiting at the light. You meet him at the metal fence around the cafe seating area, and now that you’re standing, he can see you’re wearing a yellow sundress that cuts off at your calves and drapes over your hips like the fabric was spun from pure light.

“Hello.” Ushijima talks first this time because if he doesn’t refocus his brain on something else he knows he won’t be able to stop staring.

“Hi! Sorry about that, uh, and I’m sure you have places to be, but, um, did I leave my cardigan at the greenhouse? I can’t find it, and I know I have a tendency to forget things, so,” you finish with a laugh, one hand fiddling with the rings on the other.

“Yes, you did. I put it on a shelf in case you came back.”

“Oh! That’s great!” You sound relieved, and Ushijima’s suddenly very grateful he didn’t take it down to the bio department’s lost and found like they’re technically supposed to. “Is there maybe a time I can come pick it up? When you’ll be there?”

“I’ll be there all day tomorrow, opening at nine.” 

He can’t tell if he sounds a little too eager, and he’s about to soften his meaning by telling you that they’re open today, too, and anyone can hand you a sweater, but you’re already smiling big and sunny and telling him,

“I’ll see you at nine, then. Do you drink coffee?”

He doesn’t; his coaches have always told him that caffeine can only harm his athletic performance.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then I’ll see you at nine, with coffee.”

Ushijima says goodbye and turns to wait at the crosswalk again while you swirl your way back to your seat and pick up your conversation with your friend. He can feel two pairs of eyes on him as he crosses the street, red numbers blinking down from ten, and can’t help but turn to look back as he steps onto the opposite sidewalk. Where your friend tactfully looks down into their cup of tea, you catch his eye with yours and wave. He lifts his hand halfway in a goodbye before an eighteen-wheeler stops at the intersection and blocks you from him.

Ushijima’s normal work attire is typical of an average agricultural biology student accustomed to being up to their elbows in dirt every day: practical cargo shorts, dirt-stained but sturdy sneakers, a “plant dad” t-shirt (a gift from Tendō when they’d said their goodbyes and gone away to college), and a soft cotton flannel. He’s usually satisfied with this for his shift at the greenhouse, expecting to be mud-covered at least up to his wrists by the end of the day.

But today… Today, he pauses in the dorm bathroom to scrub his face raw, and he clips and shapes his nails like his mother used to do for him every Saturday. He normally only does it before tournaments, now, and it calms his nerves to feel prepared for a Big Event, even if that event is only handing you your gently pilled cashmere cardigan and receiving a coffee he won’t drink in return.

The air that morning is heady with spring, earthy and alive, reminding Ushijima of lying beneath the hedge along his mother’s garden to pass notes to the girl next door. He was seven and she was nine, so naturally she knew everything he didn’t. She knew about the planets and why worms live in dirt and how to spell the word “catastrophe,” and Ushijima would’ve bet his whole weekly allowance that she was the coolest person in the world, if he knew what betting was. (She did, and once bet him half an ice cream sandwich that he couldn’t climb the oak tree in his backyard all the way to the top. He did, and then twisted his ankle on the way down, and she brought him an ice cream sandwich every day for a week as an apology.) She was all shiny, long black hair and dark eyes and fast words, nothing like the spring blooming around him.

You, on the other hand, are exactly the spring.

He stops at his favorite pastry place on the way to work to pick up two fresh cream donuts. The line is just dwindling from the height of the morning rush, so he manages to make it to the biology building just five minutes before he normally does.

Morning sun sends rainbows through the automatic misting spray as Ushijima unlocks the greenhouse door, letting a burst of humidity out into the rest of the building. The spiral-bound log book is there on the desk, a thick parchment bookmark sticking out from where whoever closed last night marked the page. 

Ushijima places his backpack and pastry bag on the desk and reaches to hang his key on its hook just when there’s a knock on the door.

“I know I’m early,” you start, edging your way into the room with a paper coffee cup in each hand. “But I saw it was already open, so...”

Ushijima smiles despite himself. In their second year Oikawa Tooru had told him that his smiles can be unnerving, but he can’t help it right now. You look so lovely today, in jeans and a silky tank top, with a certain morning tenderness in the way you hold yourself.

“It’s okay, come in. I just need to check the temperature controls and I’ll be done opening.”

“Sounds good,” you reply, smiling back.

As he makes his way to the temp controls on the Southern wall, you perch on the wooden stool and set down the coffee.

With his back turned to you for a moment, you allow yourself to slouch, planting two hands on the table and stretching your shoulders with a sigh. It’s earlier than you normally get out of bed, let alone actually leave your apartment, and you can already feel a quiet exhaustion setting into your bones.

But this is worth it, you remind yourself. Worth it to talk to the beautiful boy with broad shoulders and gentle hands.

He’d been unexpected. That first day in the greenhouse, you’d sat down with the intention to calm down from a tedious school day and nothing more. Your hands had moved of their own volition on that second drawing of the orange branch, scribbling out a hasty message that made your cheeks burn. But he was so present that day, in the corner of your eye but staying respectfully out of your space. And you’re not blind -- you saw the muscles under his shirt as he lifted an entire small tree in its pot. You saw the startling shade of green his eyes took on in the sun. You saw it all, and it drew you back, and now you’re here.

When he joins you back at the table, leaning back against it to face you, you stick out your hand and offer your name.

He looks at it for a moment, then back at you.

“I just, uh, realized we never properly introduced ourselves,” you explain, with a hesitant smile.

He smiles again and your heart thuds, then his big hand engulfs yours and he shakes it firmly.

“Wakatoshi. It’s nice to meet you.”

You learn in the following weeks of coming to the greenhouse that Wakatoshi doesn’t like coffee. But he does like tea and donuts, so that’s what you bring him on the mornings you can find it in you to wake up before nine. You sit with him in the greenhouse, talking and listening as he records data and waters plants and sits next to you on the quilt you’ve fallen into the habit of bringing. The occasional professor or student comes through, and you get to watch Wakatoshi show off his brains when he leaves you to help them.

There are several things you learn about him over those weeks. Number one: he never minces words. Two: he prefers grapefruit chapstick over anything else. And three: he kisses like it’s his last day on Earth.

You discover number three late one night when you decide to drop by after class, shooting him a text to make sure he’s still there. Today he’s closing instead of opening, and you missed spending your morning with him.

The city lights cast a different kind of glow at this time of night. They add a distance to everything that’s palpable as you drop your bag by the door.

“Toshi, are you here-- oh, hi.” You turn the corner to find him closing the door to the supply closet.

His cheekbones are highlighted briefly by a billboard outside flashing red.

“You should get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired. And I wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me?”

He takes a step towards you and you have to tilt your head back slightly to keep your eyes on his. They’re leaf green and unreadable.

“Yeah, uh,” you wet your lips with your tongue, “is that okay?”

“Yes.” He pauses for a long time, then, watching you carefully in the neon glow of the exit sign. His hand shakes as it reaches up to push your glasses from your face onto your head.

Without them, he looks fuzzy and soft around the edges.

He says, “Can I kiss you?” and it feels like there’s a bird trapped in your ribcage.

“Yes. Kiss me.”

Wakatoshi kisses nothing like you expected, all tongues and teeth and heavy fingers in the dip of your waist. He growls when you gasp and mewl against him, sucking on your lower lip as your hands find purchase in his shirt. He kisses you so absolutely breathless that you think you might pass out. Your knees buckle and you pull away, gasping with your eyes closed for a moment until you come back to yourself.

“Are you alright, little one?”

The endearment makes your cheeks flush with heat and your eyes snap open.

“Yes, I’m alright. Please do it again.”

And so he does it again, and again, and again until you find yourself bringing him home with you on the last bus that goes towards your neighborhood. He’s standing in the aisle, one hand wrapped around a pole and the other wound around you, who’s standing in front of him. He keeps you steady as the bus rounds a corner.

That night, you bring the peace of the greenhouse into your home, and the only thing you find yourself wishing for is that it never leaves.

[writersblog20]

Standing next to me

Miles Kane x reader

Not my gif, credits to the maker!

Summary: Being on tour with the one and only crispy king gives you more than you ever could’ve hoped for

Warnings: night terror, slight panic attack, hyperventilation, fluff

Words: 3K

A/N: More fics to come but ya homegirl has got the rona so we'll see how it goes cause i really do feel like shit🥲

Standing next to me

Being on tour was the best thing that happened to you in a while. You were the camera woman for Miles this tour. Before Miles reached out, you were in a very dark spot in your life and when Miles gave you the offer you took it immediately.

You were a huge fan of him. Not only him but also The Last Shadow Puppets. You had two shows behind you right now and were on your way to the third in the bus where you all stayed in. You sat down on the small table, editing the videos so Miles could post it. You even discussed with Miles to make some merch for him since you were a multimedia designer.

The first time you met Miles you were absolutely starstruck and fangirling to the roof but tried to act normal. Miles had an aura around him that calmed you down very quickly. You couldn’t even begin to tell how much of an angel Miles was. It didn’t help with your on going crush on him. Every time you talked, danced, saw him your crush grew.

You were tapping your foot to some drum and bass music, blasting through your headset while you were editing some pictures you took. You were taken out of concentration when Miles walked in. “Ya should get some sleep luv. We have a big day tomorrow and ya have all the time babe.” He told you while sitting, closely, next to you. Your arms touched each other and your heart started to beat faster.

“You like this or you want something else to it?” you asked him once you were done. He couldn’t wipe away the smile, plastered on his face. “I luv it babe. Keep it like this.” You smiled shyly and downloaded the picture so you could send it to him.

“ I know, I’m just finishing this up and then I’m done.” You tried to sound calm. Miles looked at your laptop and smiled “I really like tha. Ya very talented luv!” you felt your cheeks heat up. “Thank you, I’m glad you like it.” He looked at you for a minute and placed his arm behind you to rest. Miles is a very affectionate person to anyone and that also meant you. “Nah, I’m serious. I’ve met a lot of designers and stuff but you have some kind of style to ya art that I really like.” You felt flustered and tensed up, knowing he won’t move and watched you work more on the picture. He stood up all of a sudden and put the water on for tea. He turned around and leaned against the counter until the tea was done. You felt yourself grow nervous and Miles apparantly noticed so looked away and went through the different sort of tea.

When the tea was done, he poured one for you too. "Ere luv, some chammomile tea." You smiled in appreciation "Thank you Mi." You told him and looked back at your computer as did Miles.

“You’re right, I should go to bed.” you told him, not knowing how to behave right now, feeling so flustered and overwhelmed. You still couldn’t believe that this was actually happening right now and it made your adrenaline go up. Miles nodded and stood up, reaching out his slender hand for you to take which you did. He gave you a big smile when you placed your hand in his. You quickly got freshened up in the small bathroom and made your way to your bed.

Your bed was besides Miles. It was like a bunkbed and then there’s a path in the middle obviously and on the other side more bunkbeds where Miles was placed, next to you. Miles looked at you with a loving smile and you saw he was watching some British tv show and eating some Haribo candy. “Goodnight Miles.” You whispered with a returning smile. “Goodnight babe.” You smiled and closed the curtain. You turned around and placed your earbuds in so you could watch some YouTube videos.

Apparently you were so tired that you couldn’t even type in what video you wanted to watch. You did know that you had a very bad nightmare. It was nothing new to you but this one was different. You woke up from Miles. “Luv, wake up babe. Ya having a bad dream..” Miles shook you a little and you shoot up out of breath and apparently hyperventilating from it. It felt like your heart was beating out of your chest. “Luv, try to beath normal. Breath with me, ya?” he asked you gentle as he sat on the edge of your bed. You sat up a little and took a deep breath through your nose and out of your mouth, mimicking Miles.

“There ya go luv. Ya’re okay now. Just keep breathing with meh.” You nodded while you placed your hand on your heart and stomach. You felt your heart slowing down finally and decided to speak. “I’m sorry that I woke you, Mi.” he gave you a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry luv. I’m just glad that ya’re okay.” You let out a breathy laugh and nodded. “Thank you for waking me up.” He went with his hand over your hair.

“I got ya babe. Don’t worry about it.” You nodded and looked a little around, back to your hands eventually. “Ya want me to stay with ya?” he asked you, picking up on your nervousness. “You don’t have to Mi. You have a big show tomorrow and you need some sleep as well.” you tried to argue. “Don’t worry luv. I can handle it.” he told you reassuring. “Okay then.” You told him and scooted over so he could lay down next to you.

He put the tv on in your bed (everyone had one in their bunkbed.) and crawled in next to you. He placed his arm behind you and pulled you towards him so your head could rest on his chest. He turned the volume down of the tv and got more comfortable. He placed his other hand around your body and with his hand that laid behind you, he went over your hair for some comfort. “Try tha get some sleep luv. I’ll be here when ya wake up or I’ll wake ya up if ya have another nightmare.” He whispered to you. “Thank you Mi.” You told him, feeling tired again but mostly safe.

You rested your hand on his chest and clutched your fist into his shirt, holding him close. His slender fingers started to massage your scalp and you focused on his touch, relaxing your entire body. It didn’t take you long to fall asleep again and it was one of the most peaceful nights of sleep that you ever had since you could remember.

~time skip~

You woke up, still in Miles’s arms. He had turned to his side, towards you but was still holding you close. Your head was tucked underneath his stubbled chin and against his chest. His cologne hitting your nose. It had something with orange in it and it felt like you were in the safest place on earth right now. You snuggled your face more against his chest and closed your eyes again only to feel Miles stir in his sleep.

His arms around you, tightening and his hand found the back of your head again to keep you softly in place and letting out a loud sigh. His face now snuggling against you too, hinting that he was just as comfortable and relaxed as you.

You didn’t remember a lot of it since you fell back asleep again until a loud thump was heard. You both jumped awake and looked back to see one of the guys getting out of bed clumsy. Miles still had his arms around you but more protective now. You both chuckled when you processed what woke you up. Miles turned back to you with a warm loving smile. “Good morning luv. Did ya sleep better?” Miles asked you while he snuggled his face back into the pillow and his arms, once again, tightening around you.

“Yeah, I actually think I had the best night of sleep since I could remember, so thank you for that.” He smiled. “I actually did too ya know. I don’t mind sleeping here for the rest of the tour.” He told you. But the tone in his voice told you that he wasn’t joking. “Do you mean that?” you asked him softly, his smile never leaving his face. “Yea I do. I aven’t slept this good in a while as well so I definitely don’t mind, ya know” You felt yourself grow flustered again.

“In that case… I really like you here.” You told him shyly. His smile grew bigger and tightened his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest for a hug and placed a couple of kisses on your head. “I don’t wanna get up. I’m fine right here.” He told you. “Yeah me too Miles… me too.” He snuggled his head against yours and you both stayed there for a while until you both grew hungry.

Miles stumbled out of the bed, making you laugh. He held your hand again so he helped you out of the bunkbed in case you would stumble as well. You both brushed your teeth in the bathroom and you quickly applied some make-up while Miles just watched you lovingly. It didn’t feel weird, it felt very comfortable actually.  

You looked around your suitcase for something to wear until Miles held the ‘change the show’ shirt in front of you. “I aven’t given ya one yet, did I?” he asked, knowing how much the lyrics of the song meant to you. “no, but it’s fine Mi.” you tried to reassure him. “Well.. Ya look realleh good innit. I aven’t washed it yet, but I didn’t sweat innit, it’s just meh cologne. Ya can ave it if ya want. Ya would look realleh good innit, ya look good in everythin darlin.” You smiled shyly and grabbed the shirt from him. “Thank you Mi.” you told him.

You liked the fact that his cologne was on it but you wouldn’t tell Miles. You grabbed your high waist mom jeans and a leather jacket along with your black Dr. Martens. Miles looked at you with a smile “Like I said, ya look good in everythin!” you felt flustered and couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening but enjoyed the moment.

After Miles got dressed as well he grabbed your hand and walked outside out of the bus. The weather was very nice and you quickly put your sunglasses on and placed your bag with your camera in it around your shoulder. “Wanna go into town and grab a coffee?” Miles asked you, never letting go of your hand and it felt nice, comfortable even.

“Yeah that sounds good.” You told him and made your way into town for coffee and breakfast. Miles pointed out a nice café and held the door open for you to get in. You both took a seat and started chatting about your favorite music and his, connecting on every level. You never really had this one on one time with Miles and you loved every minute of it, noticing that he liked it as well.  

After breakfast you both strolled a little through the city when Miles carefully grabbed your hand in his again. “Is this okay?” Miles asked you softly and you smiled shyly in return, nodding in response. “Yeah, it more than is.” He smiled and softly squeezed your hand. You took some photographs of Miles if you saw some moments that were too good to let uncaptured. When fans came up to Miles you always offered to take the pictures for them.

After the stroll it was already time to go and do the soundcheck and once again you filmed some stuff. You all had dinner together and walked back to the concert hall and waited for the supporting act to be done. You all had some drinks and Miles wasn’t leaving your side and you definitely didn’t complain one bit. You all started dancing and you saw how hyped Miles always got, making your heart do even more leaps.

It was time for Miles and the band to go on stage so you filmed the way they walked up and disappeared so you could film from the crowed. First you were on the side, filming Miles and the band without getting in the way and after you walked up to the front of the stage to film Miles. He started singing Standing next to me. Miles made eye contact with you but different than usual.

He really looked at you and not into the camera. When you slowly lowered your camera to look at him, he got a big grin and gave you a wink with a smirk, making you feel flustered and the butterflies grew extensively.

Every time you replaced yourself in the crowed, Miles found you immediately and kept the flirting going, getting more expressive every time. You walked backstage again before the show had started as not to grab to much attention from the fans and the people around you. You showed your MK keycard to the security and walked backstage, waiting for Miles to come back which didn’t took long.

You knew this was a good show for him because he came fully energetic and hyped in the room. You chuckled at the ball of sunshine in front of you that was walking quickly towards you. He pulled you into a hug with a big, big smile. He was sweating but you didn’t mind it one bit, putting your arms around Miles. “Whatcha think about the gig luv?” he asked you happily. “You were absolutely killing it!” his grin got even bigger. “You really are one hell of an entertainer Mi.” he smiled “Awhh babe….” He told you this time softer. Apparently it touched him that you told him that.

Miles started to change into some fresh clothes and even though he never cared that someone saw, it always seemed to mesmerize you. You stood up to pour him a drink and one for yourself. He lit a cigarette on and handed you that one. You smiled gratefully as he lit his own.

You all danced to the music for a while and once Miles had finished his drink he walked downstairs to take some pictures with his fans. You started to feel very tired and waited for Miles to come back so you could say goodnight.

It took about 45 minutes until he came back and you softly tapped him on his shoulder. “I’m gonna go back to the bus. I’m dead beat tired so goodnight.” You told him with a smile. You saw the disappointment in his face even though he tried to hide it. “That offer still stands?” he asked you carefully and you knew he was talking about sharing a bed. “Very much so.” You told him with a smile and he got his smile back. “I’ll try not to wake ya luv.” You smiled and felt bold. You placed your lips gently on his cheek. “See ya later Mi.” You could see him blush and you walked away, feeling his eyes following you.

You made it back to the bus and there were still some fans waiting for him. You walked past them and into the bus. You got changed and freshened up before laying your tired body on the bed. The moment your head hit the pillow, you heard someone coming in. You opened the curtains to see who it was and it was Miles. His back was turned to you as he was gathering his stuff. “Mi?” you asked him and he turned around a bit in surprise.

“Hey luv.” He told you sweetly. “You don’t want another drink?” you asked him and he shook his head with a soft smile. “Nah I rather be with ya right now if that’s alright.” He awaited your answer and you actually felt honored. “That’s quite more than alright Mi.” he smiled “Imma take a shower, I’ll be right back babe.” He gave you a kiss on your forehead and walked into the bathroom. You tried to stay awake until Miles was done.

It didn’t took him long and he walked back to your bed, crawling in besides you as you pull the covers to the side for him. Once he laid down he pulled the covers over his body as well. You laid down on your side, facing him as he did the same. His finger softly placed a string of hair behind your hair before he cupped your cheek.

“I realleh like ya…” he whispered, scared for your reaction, it seemed almost. You felt flustered and in heaven at this point. “I really like you too Miles.” He smiled again and nuzzled his nose with yours before softly placing his lips on yours and you pulled him closer by his waist, cupping his cheek as well. After he pulled away he rested his forehead against yours.

“Stay with meh after tha tour if ya want.” His voice glanced with hope. “I would like that.” He smiled again and pulled you closer, pressing his lips against yours again. You felt his tongue against your lips for access which you granted him with need. He tried to pour all his love into that kiss as did you. After the little make out session, you snuggled your face against his chest, enjoying the smell of him, the aftershave and shampoo.

His hand softly went over your hair and you could feel his golden necklace against your chin. His other arm wrapped around you and he let his lips rest against your forehead. “I’ll be here, I’ll always be here for ya luv.” He could feel you smile against his skin. You let your hand rest on his stomach again, feeling his abs underneath his shirt. “Thank you Mi…For everything.” This time you could feel him smile against your forehead. “Dun’t wurry about it babe. You did more for me than you know. Get some sleep luv. I ain’t goin nowhere.”

You fell into a peaceful sleep and got excited for the future with Miles in the picture, more than you could ever dream off.

[alloftheimaginesblog]

Life Without Colour {PART TWO}

Soulmate AU: Your vision is in black and white until you meet your soulmate. You and your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, aren’t each others soulmates but you love each other. He introduces you to his friends, the Avengers, and a very odd thing happens.

Characters: Steve Rogers x Plus Size Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

taglist: @domainoflostsouls​  forgetthisbull  handon-h-art  yourspecialcrush  giulsgotmusic

As morning crept in through the blinds, you opened your eyes. It had been a horrendous night. You’d slept for a couple of hours, if that, all in and every time you woke up, you felt like crying. You opened your eyes to see wonderous colour, everything was so colourful and it shocked you but my god, you wished that your vision was still black and white. If your vision had been black and white everything would’ve been fine and you would be happy. You would’ve given up anything to have black and white vision back. Black and white vision wasn’t so bad, I mean, it always felt like you were trapped inside a 50s sitcom but that was pretty cool! Though now with colour you could easily see what your clothes looked like...

Steve was still sound asleep beside you. His alarm would go off in an hour or so. Carefully, you got out of bed trying not to wake him as you went to wander through Steve’s apartment. You were grateful that Steve’s décor was darker and more muted colours; dark blues and browns (and you knew what colours they all were because during the night, you’d found some YouTube Kids videos telling you all the different types of colour. You liked red and you really liked yellow). You spend a while walking around the apartment and looking out the window, watching the sun come up. Your stomach flips and you feel sick as you see a photo of Steve and Bucky; the same photo that you’d seen so many times before except now it’s in colour and you can see Bucky’s dark eyes and Steve’s bright eyes. Taking a breath, trying to push the nausea away, you wish it had been Steve’s eyes that you saw. You wish Steve’s bright blue eyes had been the first ones you saw in colour.

Your mind refuses to stop picturing Bucky and that first moment of seeing colour crashing over you like a wave. The guilt hits you like a train as you stare at the photo. How could you love Steve Rogers and yet have Bucky Barnes be your soulmate? You needed help; you needed some form of guidance, someone to talk to that wasn’t Bucky Barnes. 

Steve finds you sitting on the couch, staring at the photo of the pair, fifteen minutes later. He pads over to you, realising that you’re in a daydream of sorts, “Sweetheart?” He says softly sitting on the couch beside you.

You tore your eyes from the picture and stared at him, once again the colour of his eyes surprising you. Quickly, you set the photo down and pull him onto the couch, “Steve, I have to tell you something.”

Steve brushes your hair out of your face, frowning in concern. He could tell something was eating away at you, he noticed it last night at the party. He’d hoped it had just been the migraine but now, seeing the fear in your eyes, he wondered if it was something else entirely. He asks if you’re okay, asks what’s wrong and you open your mouth and then shut it. You need to tell him. A relationship shouldn’t have secrets or lies and you had always been honest with Steve. Steve valued honesty and truth among all else, he valued loyalty and yet, here you were, keeping the biggest secret of your life from him.

He repeats the question, “What’s going on?”

You shake your head and plaster a smile on your face, “I was just thinking that I’d go see Nat today,” you told him, “She was telling me about her and Bruce yesterday but never got to hear much of the story before my migraine kicked in.” It wasn’t a lie, you were waiting to hear more of Nat and Bruce’s story but that wasn’t the only reason you wanted to go and see her. You wanted Nat’s opinion on everything; you wanted her to tell you what you were supposed to do.

Steve nodded his head slowly, “Are you okay, (y/n)? You’ve not seemed quite right since last night at the party.” No, I’m not right at all, Steve! My soulmate is your best friend! How do I tell you that? How am I meant to tell you that without destroying you?

“Yeah, everything’s fine, love,” you smile at him, “The migraine’s away but I barely slept.” He looks at you with that stare, the one where he’s trying to figure out if you’re telling him the truth, “Honestly, Steve, I’m okay. I’m absolutely exhausted but I’ll have a cup of coffee and go see Nat and I’ll be fine. Must’ve been the champagne last night, I only had one glass but you know I’m not a big drinker and you know Stark buys the expensive stuff.”

Steve relents with a sigh, he’s unsure but you seem to be talking a little more, “Okay, just remember that I’m here for you if you need me...” He stands up, stretching and you smile as you look at him. He is one fine specimen. He notices you admiring his muscles, “You think these are impressive?” He chuckles, “You should’ve seen me before the serum.”

You laugh, a real genuine laugh, and for a few seconds, you forget about everything. Things were just so real and easy with Steve, “I would’ve loved to have met you back then you know.”

Steve scoffs, “Yeah right. You’re way out of my league right now never mind back then.”

“I’m serious,” you say as you follow him into the kitchen, “Steve, you’re the best person I’ve ever met. I would love you in every lifetime and every size or shape. Skinny, pre serum Steve would’ve been just as perfect. The serum changed the way you look but it never changed the way you act or the way you think. That’s all you and what do I always tell you?”

Steve smiles as he makes the coffee, “You love the way I think.” He looks up at you and you smile at him. Everything was always easy with Steve; it always had been, even on that very first day.

The rain poured down, splashing onto the sidewalk. You pulled your jacket tighter around you as you tried to back further into the wall. You’d been waiting outside a café for over thirty minutes waiting for your date to show up. So far, nothing. You’d text and left a voicemail asking if he was on his way but no answer. You huffed as you shook your head, “Bloody men.”

You go to turn and walk away, knowing that you’d been stood up and didn’t want to hang around for nothing, when you almost bump into something or rather someone, “Sorry, I was going to ask if you wanted my umbrella.” He asked with a smile, “But you started cursing out men and honestly, it’s a little intimidating.”

You looked up at him and smiled, well he wasn’t your soulmate but that was okay, you didn’t need colour to know that he was ridiculously good looking,  “Sorry, I, uh, I got stood up so I’ve been standing in the rain for nearly forty minutes. I even went to the effort of putting on a whole new outfit and curling my hair!”

The man sighs, “I’m sorry to hear that, how about I buy you a cup of coffee?” He holds his hands up when you look at him concerned, “I just wanna be nice, that’s all. If you hate me, you never have to see me again.”

You find yourself laughing and shrugging, “Oh, what the hell- sure... I’m (y/n).”

“Steve, Steve Rogers.”

It hits you then. Of course, “You’re Captain America!”

Steve nods, “I hope that’s not an issue?”

You shake your head, “Not at all but... why does someone like you want to go on a date with someone like me? I mean you look like that and I look like...” you look down at your soaked outfit, “a drowned rat.”

His laugh is lovely, you realise as it comes booming out of him, “Someone like me? I look like this now but before the war, I was a scrawny five foot four kid with too many health issues to count and someone like you? You mean someone beautiful with a gorgeous smile?” He opens the café door, “Shall we?”

A cup of coffee with Captain America, you muse in your head as you sit at the table in the small café waiting for him to bring you back your drinks, your mom would have a field day with this one. You shrug your jacket off and hang it over the back of the chair, thankful that your jacket had kept the rain from soaking you straight to the bone.

Steve appeared a minute later, two coffees and two muffins, “I wasn’t sure if you wanted something to eat so I got us muffins.”

“Thanks,” you smile, happily taking a bite out of it. Steve sits down and you suddenly feel rather awkward as he smiles at you. You’re not soulmates. Your vision is still black and white so... what was the point?

Steve seems to read your mind, “We’re not soulmates... It’s okay.” You breathe a sigh of relief and Steve can see you visibly relax.

“Yours is still black and white?”

He shakes his head, taking a sip of the coffee, “No, I... I met my soulmate a long time ago.”

“Oh?” you pause and he can see your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“It was during the war we met,” he goes onto explain, “Things couldn’t really go anywhere since I woke up in the twenty first century... She died a couple of years ago.”

Well, shit. “Oh god, Steve, I’m so sorry. That’s... That’s horrible.”

Steve smiles, appreciating your genuine sympathy, “It’s okay,” he shrugs, “besides, I like to think I can make my own destiny; that there’s more than one person in the world that could be a match for me.”

A smile spreads onto your face. He was like a breath of fresh air, the way he spoke about things with such hope... it was inspiring. No wonder he was Captain America; everything America should have been, “I like the way your mind works.” And it’s true. You’d never met anyone who was so hopeful. Everyone you met followed the rules and stuck by them but Steve, despite his past and despite his definite trauma, he remained hopeful for a better future.

He asks about you and your situation, “Still black and white,” you tell him, “I have to send pictures of my outfits to my sister who met her soulmate years ago just to see if the colours go well together.” He laughs, “I’m in no rush to find my soulmate, if I ever find them. I don’t believe too much in it either.”

The pair of you look across the table at one another and smile and it’s an unspoken agreement of ‘are we going to do this?’. Steve takes a sip of coffee, hiding a bashful smile from behind the mug, “You know, I’m real glad your date stood you up.”

His kiss on your temple as he slides your mug of coffee over to you breaks you out of your trance, “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I’m real glad my date stood me up,” you murmur with a smile.

A slow grin spreads on his face, “Yeah, me too...”

Once you’ve eaten breakfast, gotten dressed and ready for the day ahead, you text Nat and ask her if you can come over. She responds right away telling you to come by whenever. You get ready to leave and say bye to Steve, who’s using a laptop looking up something else that Sam told him about.

“I’ll be home soon,” you say, kissing his hair, “Text me if you’re wanting me to pick up anything while I’m out.”

“I love you,” Steve calls as you’re pulling on your sneakers.

A pang of guilt hits you and you take a deep breath, “I love you too, Steve.”

You leave.

The drive to Natasha’s apartment is a short one and it helps that you’re breaking most of the traffic laws to get there. You need to tell someone. Honestly, at this rate, you’ll be having stomach ulcers with the stress. Maybe you were overreacting, maybe this wasn’t such a big deal... Maybe you would tell Nat and she would roll her eyes and tell you that it would be fine, to tell Steve and don’t talk to Bucky again. You hoped that it could be that easy but really... would it be?

Natasha immediately knew something was wrong, “Have you slept?” She asked, noting the dark circles under your eyes and your stressed appearance.

“Couple of hours.”

“What’s going on?”

“Coffee and then we’ll talk.” Nat nods and goes to the kitchen so prepare the coffee. Her apartment is bare but stylish. It’s not very personable but she wasn’t very personable so it makes sense. Nat always told you that she was ready to up and leave if she needed to. You follow her into the kitchen to see her lifting down two blue mugs, “Actually, can I get that red mug that’s on the top shelf?”

Nat nods and reaches up. Then she realises what you just said, “No fucking way.” You sigh, sitting at the kitchen island as she stares at you, throwing question after question at you, “You can see colour? When? How? Who?!”

“Coffee first, please.”

Natasha Romanoff has never moved faster in her life as she makes that cup of coffee and has it sitting in front of you within thirty seconds. She demands to know everything, “When?!”

“Last night at Stark’s party.”

Natasha snaps her fingers, “I knew something wasn’t right! You left so early and didn’t even say goodbye, by the way. Tony said you had a migraine but I thought something was off.”

You nodded, “Yeah, the colour was overwhelming and it gave me a migraine. It’s still pretty overwhelming, to be honest.”

Natasha leaned forwards, elbows propped onto the kitchen counter, “Is it...”

You shake your head, looking at your hands, “No... It’s not Steve.”

She curses under her breath, “Damn... I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how difficult that is but... doesn’t mean everything’s doomed. Who is it?”

All of a sudden, you can’t say anything; all you can do is stare at the coffee. Natasha begins to list of names, “Stark? Thor? Galactica man? Fury? Parker-”

“Nat, he’s seventeen!”

She holds up her hands, “Wanda? Strange? Sam? Maria Hill? Oh my god, is it me?” You roll your eyes at her and then she says it, “Bucky?” Your bottom lip trembles and Natasha’s jaw drops, “Bucky?! Bucky Barnes?” A nod is all you can muster, “Holy shit! I knew the universe is fucked but I didn’t realise it’s this fucked!”

“You said it doesn’t mean everything’s doomed, tell me it’s not doomed, Nat.”

“What did Steve say?! Holy shit, I can’t believe that. No wonder you didn’t sleep.” She sees your eyes lower, “You have told him, haven’t you?”

“I tried,” you whisper, “I tried, Nat. I-I couldn’t.” She sighs heavily, “It’s bad, isn’t it? It’s real bad.”

She nods, “Yeah, it’s gonna be bad.” The two of you are silent as you sip at the coffee, trying to figure out what the next move is. It feels good to talk about it with someone; feels much better to share the load with someone who isn’t Bucky.

“I don’t know how to tell him,” you say eventually, voice cracking with emotion, “I mean, how do you tell your boyfriend that his best friend is your soulmate?” Nat doesn’t have the answers and you know she doesn’t. She can’t tell you what to do. Bucky couldn’t tell you what to do either. You have to figure it out by yourself.

“Tell me everything.”

So you tell her everything. You tell her about seeing him, about going to get air, about Bucky finding you and having a secret conversation with him, about the migraine and about going home with Steve, “The worst part of it is... Bucky’s eyes were the first pair I saw in colour. How many times have I said to you even if Steve wasn’t my soulmate, how many times have I said I wanted his eyes to be the first ones I look into with colour vision? I feel like I’ve betrayed him.”

Nat’s hand reached out, clasping yours from across the table, “This isn’t your fault. I know that if you had your way, you would’ve seen colour with Steve from that very first glance. If not Steve, you would’ve picked me, obviously.” You laugh slightly, “Steve will understand that you didn’t want or mean for this to happen. His soulmate is someone else as well.”

“But his is dead. My soulmate is another Super Soldier who has a freaking metal arm and used to be an assassin!”

“Don’t knock assassins,” she scolds with a smile, “I’ve seen the way you and Steve are together and I know that you’re the real deal, soulmate or not. You know that too. Your talk with Bucky seems like you two are pretty okay with nothing happening between the pair of you and that’s a good first step.”

“What do I do?”

She squeezed your hand and gave you a small smile, “You know what to do.”

You let out a long breath and nodded slightly, “I have to tell Steve.”

Natasha smiled. She was one of your closest friends, she seemed to understand you pretty well. She understood your anguish and your pain and she would always listen to your problems. Steve was close with Nat for the exact same reasons. She helped and she listened. Natasha had welcomed you practically with open arms (except she hated hugs) when Steve introduced you to her. Straightaway she knew that you two were made for each other, even if the universe didn’t think it. She made a comment that stuck with you to this day,  ‘You both make each other a better person. You share the load and take turns of carrying the burdens. It’s not common that happens.’

To distract you, she updated you on her and Bruce Banner saying that he’d finally asked her out and their date was tonight, “I’m sorry. I know the last thing you want to deal with is my relationship problems,” you apologised as she told you.

“Don’t be silly, I’d rather help you than worry about what I’m meant to say on this date! I’ve not been on a date in years!”

“You’ll be fine,” you laughed, draining the last of your coffee, “You know that the pair of you are soulmates just... no work talk.”

Natasha looked like a deer caught in the headlights, “No work talk? What am I meant to talk about?!”

“I don’t know... the weather?”

The redhead rolled her eyes, “I’m not taking advice from someone who’s dating their soulmate’s best friend.”

“Low blow,” you said laughing. She did always know how to lighten the mood, “You’ll be fine, Nat.” As if on cue, you get a text, “It’s Steve... asking when I’m coming home. Can’t put it off any longer.” Standing, Nat tells you that she’s proud of you.

“It won’t be easy but... it’s the right thing to do.”

In the car ride over, you had rehearsed what you’d say to Steve. You would tell him everything that happened, you’d tell him about Bucky, about the conversation you had with him, about the real reason why you had a migraine and you’d apologise for not telling him as soon as it happened. You were scared but fear isn’t a real excuse to not do the right thing. You hoped that he wouldn’t hate you. You hoped that he would forgive you for not saying something sooner.

As you open Steve’s apartment door, you hear laughter... You frown as you close the door behind you, “Steve?” You call out.

“(y/n), you’re home,” Steve replies, “We’re in here.”

“Who’s we?” You ask, kicking off your shoes and peering around the corner,  “Oh.” You don’t look at the figure sitting next to Steve. You can’t. You’ll lose your composure and everything will be a mess again.

Steve grinned, “Bucky thought he’d stop by, isn’t that great?”

You force a smile, “Amazing! I’m going to go make myself some lunch.” Quickly, you rush into the kitchen, trying to slow your heartrate. What the fuck is he doing here?!

That’s when someone clear their throat from behind you, “I brought the coffee mugs we used back...” Bucky Barnes was the last person you wanted to see right now and now, here he was, standing in your kitchen trying to make conversation with you?! Universe, you and I need to have a good long chat.

“Why are you here?” Your voice is harsher than it should be but you’re annoyed. You’d agreed to only see each other when necessary not randomly! You thought that you’d be able to tell Steve yourself without unwelcome guests such as Bucky.

“Steve said you were out and I thought I’d be okay to see him for a few hours!” Bucky’s just as annoyed apparently not wanting to see you much more than you wanted to see him. He’s annoyed that you’re annoyed. You turn to him, glaring into those blue eyes, “Look, I know you hate me for fucking things up but... I needed to see you.”

“Why?!” You’re whisper shouting at each other and you were so glad that Steve didn’t have super hearing.

“Because I- I can’t stop thinking about you!” He hisses, arms flailing as his eyes bore into your soul, “I never slept because I couldn’t get you out of my head!”

You’re breathing hard as you look at him. He couldn’t sleep because he was too busy thinking of you? “You couldn’t sleep either?” Bucky cocks his head in confusion, “Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw were yours.” You explained and you give a bitter laugh, “Forgive me for being annoyed but I wanted the first colour I saw to be Steve’s eyes, not yours so yeah, I’m a little pissed.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Oh, I’m sorry, princess,” he scoffs, “If I had it my way, I wouldn’t have picked you to be my soulmate. Plenty more people better.” The comment stings. You don’t know Bucky at all, all you know is what Steve told you of him but so far, he had made a terrible impression. Though to be fair, you’d said similar things to him so... Immediately, he groans and realises how big of a dick he looks, “I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just- It’s-”

“Complicated. I know... I’m sorry that I’ve been a bit of a bitch. I never thought that this would happen. I’m stressed and I feel like I’m going to get a stomach ulcer from the stress.”

Bucky nods, “I’m sorry too... I’m sorry for showing up here too. Steve said you’d be out but I was hoping to see you again. I couldn’t sleep last night because I couldn’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if I’d met you first.”

“Bucky...” Your voice is a warning. A warning to not break over that threshold because once you break it, there’s absolutely no fixing it. It’s a warning that nothing will happen between the two of you. 

He realises and quickly straightens, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just... Just don’t go there,” you say with a nod as you turn around and open the fridge. You pull out some leftovers from your dinner the night before and go to the microwave to reheat it. The pair of you are quiet; the only noise to be heard is the hum of the microwave, “We should tell him,” you say eventually.

Bucky sighs. He too felt terrible for lying to Steve but he thought that hiding it was the easier thing to do, “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

You nod as the microwave beeps, “We have to tell Steve.”

“Tell me what?” Steve asks, walking into the kitchen and placing some dirty dishes on the counter, “What’s going on? You okay?” Your eyes fleet between Steve who remains happy yet confused and Bucky who won’t stop staring at you with the deep stare. 

Oh, fuck.

[thecousinsdangereux]

the land of race car ya yas

A short little ficlet for @corvophobia who has drawn a bunch of art for the bees racer au of my dreams. This is ALL based on her drawings, so make sure you check out her stuff. Happy birthday, Amber! You are one of my two favorite British children. <3

(Please note that I know nothing about street racing. I've only watched the Fast and the Furious movies. Forgive me....)

--

“How’d you do that?”

Blake’s used to the question or some version of it, and maybe that’s why she takes in the words before she notices the tone, imagines a scowl (a lowered brow, hands curled into fists, the flash of teeth as the scowl turns into a snarl) with the same instinct that has her shoulders tensing. It’s only mid-turn that she realizes the question is laced with wonder rather than anger, but even this awareness doesn’t prepare her for the sight that meets her. It’s a woman, her smile wide and unrestrained by pesky things like self-consciousness or insecurity, and her eyes are nearly glowing in the low light, purple and bright and full of open admiration. Her black leather jacket, classic in cut, has the sleeves rolled up mid-forearm, revealing a prosthetic of black and yellow, and her grey jeans are tight, showing off a body that Blake has to work to avoid following the curves of. Her hair is long, blonde, curling around her shoulders and down her back, artful in its disorder, down to the single, stubborn cowlick at the top of her head.

In short, she’s beautiful, and Blake stares for longer than she should, feeling heat in her veins.

“Do what?”

She manages a response, but it’s absent minded. She’s just noticed the light dusting of pink on the woman’s cheeks, coloring the spaces in between her freckles, and it has her re-evaluating, pulling her thoughts to the effort she’s put into her own outfit that evening: a cropped and sleeveless hoodie with blocked colors of white and purple, tight leather shorts, and clunky boots that hit just under the knee. Blake looks good and this woman knows it, which makes them even on this particular front, and that's a settling sort of feeling.

“Win,” the woman says simply, her smile growing. “And don’t just say NOS.”

“NOS,” Blake drawls, just because she can, and she’s rewarded by the woman’s laugh, rewarded even more when she steps closer.

“No, but what’s your delivery method? Direct port, obviously, but you had to have used a custom kit, right? I’ve been telling you, Yang, I need to recalibrate yours. Can I look at your car? Would you mind if I just took a tiny peak just to see what you’ve done with your injection site? We really need to upgrade, Yang. A nozzle with less back pressure will give you a better squeeze. I’ve been telling you!”

She hadn’t noticed the other woman, but blinks at her now, a red blur waving her arms about, hoping from one foot to the other, firing out words faster than Blake — an aficionado of all things fast — can keep up with. The woman (Yang?) seems to find the act familiar and reacts with affection tinged with a false exasperation (put upon for Blake’s benefit or maybe as a means of gentle chiding), sighing and placing a hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder.

“And I’ve been telling you, you can’t just ask people to look at their shit!” She turns to Blake now, and this time her eye roll is definitely for Blake. “Sorry about that, I swear we’re not trying to steal any of your trade secrets. Ruby just… really likes cars.”

“It’s so pretty too,” Ruby coos, batting away Yang’s hand and taking a step towards the vehicle Blake had used to push past Yang at the last moment, a fact neither of these women seem to hold against her. “The purple stripes. But I bet the engine is prettier.”

It’s unprecedented, really. Blake’s been on the scene for a while — longer than she would admit to anyone here — first as a tagalong and now as a driver, but she’s never had an encounter quite like this. The unexpectedness of it all has her feeling off-balance, has her reacting without any of her customary cool anger as Ruby stares at her hood (as though if she focuses hard enough, she’ll be able to see through the metal to the parts underneath). Maybe that’s why Blake responds in a way that’s decidedly unwise, without any further thought at all.

“You can take a look. I don’t mind.”

“Really?�� Ruby squeals, but doesn’t wait for Blake to confirm, darting around her and flipping open the hood in the span of three seconds.

“Really?” Yang asks, and the word sounds wildly different coming from her, sliding out from behind her crooked lips like thanks or maybe a challenge (or maybe both). “Not worried about my mechanic figuring you out before the next race?”

Blake should be, of course. But.

“Can’t say I am.”

“Maybe not the smartest move.” Yang crosses her arms; the chrome of her right glints under one of the flickering street lights. For the first time, she looks away from Blake’s gaze, eyes darting over to check on Ruby (who’s leaning so far into the front of Blake’s car that her feet nearly lift off the ground) and then to another group of drivers, a good distance behind them, but clearly watching in curiosity. It’s never wise to gather after a race, but everyone always does when it goes well, and for the first time, Blake’s glad for it. “She’s pretty vicious about giving me an edge. I wish I could say it was familial loyalty, but really, she just wants to make the fastest car in the city.” Yang pauses, tilting her head in thought. “Or country. Or world. Not sure when she’ll be satisfied, to be honest.”

“Sisters?” Blake asks. She can’t really see the resemblance, but then again, she hasn’t spent as much time looking at the younger of the pair, even though she should probably be less focused on the elder (the one not pouring over her engine. Sun and Ilia were going to kill her).

“Yeah.” Yang probably doesn’t realize how much her smile grows in the confirmation, saturated with pride and love. “Scary brilliant too. Give her five minutes with a car and she’ll take it apart, put it back together, and it’ll run better than it ever has. But all that means she always thinks it’s the car that puts a driver ahead.”

Blake arches a brow. “And you think she’s… wrong?”

“Well, yeah.” Yang’s closer than Blake remembers her being, maybe because her legs are long, her strides somehow longer, and it only takes a step before she’s close enough for Blake to feel the heat radiating off her body. “I know it’s only the driver that puts a driver ahead. That’s why I’m here talking to you instead of looking at your car.” Her lips twitch and she amends her statement quickly. “Part of the reason, at least.”

The other part of her reasoning is made pretty obvious when Yang’s eyes trace up Blake’s form once more. It should probably bother Blake, but it doesn’t, maybe because she’s done the same to Yang during this conversation (more than once). Still, there are things better avoided, and Blake knows this better than anyone. She does her best to get back on track.

“It wasn’t me,” she says (almost blurts), and then feels her neck warm when Yang looks at her quizzically. “Before, you asked how I won. But it wasn’t me, not really. You could have had it if you hadn’t fired your nitrous early. You were impatient.”

It’s too blunt, Blake knows this as soon as the words leave her lips. She’s backtracked too much, retreated into aloofness as she was wont to do, but Yang only laughs, and the sound cracks through Blake’s go-to defense, a corner of her lips curling before she can stop it.

“You’re right. I used to be way worse, back when I started out, but I’m a lot better now. Usually.”

“So what happened today?” It’s the question Yang wants her to ask, of this Blake is sure, but it hardly feels like a chore.

“Ah, bad luck, I guess. I took one look at the driver next to me and all that impatience came rushing back. All I wanted to do was finish the race and meet her properly.” She winks. Combined with the cheesy line, it shouldn’t work as well as it does (but it does). “I’m Yang.”

“Blake.”

They don’t shake hands, and Blake’s glad for it. There’s something buzzing between them, a tingling sensation at the tips of her fingers, the build up right before a lightning strike, and Blake’s not entirely sure what the contact — however brief and friendly — might do to her.

“Next time, maybe I’ll be a little more prepared.” Yang’s eyes roam across her face, settling once more on gold. “But probably not.”

“Immersion therapy,” Blake quips. “Give it time.”

Yang whistles sharply, and it takes Blake a moment to realize that she’s called her sister back over. (Blake had forgotten about her entirely, though the grease on her hands and face leads her to believe that Ruby had done a thorough dive under her hood, the sort Blake ought to be worried about.)

“Time is exactly what I plan on giving it. A lot of time, if you’ll let me.” Yang nudges her sister back in the direction they’d come from. Ruby waves, offers a wide grin of thanks, but Blake’s stuck on purple.

“Well. Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she murmurs.

“Looking forward to it.”

And Blake, who started racing to get away, who started racing to run, who started racing so she never had to stay in one place for long, finds that she is too.

—

“What the hell is your problem?”

Blake’s used to this question too, or some form of it, and this time, the tone is exactly what she expects. The small, white-haired woman in a vest and tie, however, is not.

“Listen, I’m sorry I hurt your boyfriend’s feelings by being a better driver than him, but you’re only embarrassing yourself now.” Blake takes another look at the woman’s attire; her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows and — despite the country club hairstyle and the heels — the hint of a tattoo on her pale skin, just under the fabric makes up Blake’s mind for her. “Or… Girlfriend?”

“Not quite,” says a familiar voice.

Today, Yang has decided to show off her abs (and she most certainly does have abs) with a cropped jacket of black and gold checks, and Blake can’t quite bring herself to look beyond that for too long, though she catches the black driving gloves, the oversized and gold sunglasses, the oversized cargo pants. In the seconds it takes for Blake to wind her brain back up, Yang grins, cocksure, and continues.

“Though you were right about the gay thing. I mean, look at her.”

“Look at you,” the other woman sniffs, actually physically turning up her nose. “Could you be any gayer?”

“Yeah, I could be wearing a vest and tie,” Yang fires back, but it’s clear the banter is familiar, it’s obvious these two know each other well enough for their back and forth to not contain any real barbs.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Blake drawls, before she’s able to stop herself, and Yang turns back to her with an arched brow. “Good to see you again, Yang.”

“Oh, is it? Could have fooled me!” The other woman’s ire has been refocused, and it’s seemingly stronger than before, the pitch of her words higher, more dire. “Given you nearly killed her just now.”

“Weiss,” Yang sighs, but Blake winces, feeling the sting of the words despite Yang’s quick glance of reassurance sent her way.

“I didn’t realize you’d pull off when I drifted. I thought you’d… lean in.”

It’s not an excuse. They’d been neck and neck towards the end of the race (again), and when she’d nudged the side of Yang’s car — far gentler than she would against anyone else — she’d assumed the woman would give as good as she got, like most every other racer she’d gone against. But Yang hadn’t taken any chances, and it’d cost her the race.

“We don’t do that here,” the woman — Weiss — says, lips pursed to the point of contortion, but Yang only laughs.

“We do that here all the time. I did way worse to Mercury last week.”

“Yes, but Mercury is a creep.” Weiss pauses, considering. “We only do that to creeps here.”

Blake’s hands lift, a show of peace. “Hey, no one handed me the Beacon Street Racing Etiquette Guide when I joined up the other week. Maybe you could loan me your copy.”

This doesn’t exactly smooth things over with the woman, especially not when Yang snickers, but Weiss can clearly see the writing on the wall, and tosses her hair over her shoulder with a huff.

“Whatever. I’m telling Ruby about this,” she warns Yang (or maybe Blake, or maybe both of them), before stalking away, her last words called over her shoulder. “She’s not going to be happy.”

There’s no concern on Yang’s face as she watches her go, if anything she looks amused. “Sorry about that. She’s… protective.”

“I can see that. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been friends with someone for a while.” It’s a guess (and a probe), but Yang doesn’t correct any of her phrasing, so it must be close enough to the truth.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean protective of me.” Yang’s grin shows a flash of white teeth. “Weiss bet on me tonight. You lost her money. And that’s the real sin.”

Blake’s surprised at how easily her laugh comes (more surprised how easily the fondness slips through the cracks in her chest). “Oh, I see. So I can kick your ass up and down the streets as long as I convince her to bet on me in the future? Good to know.”

“I’m not sure that’s the message I want you to be taking from this,” Yang drawls, but still smiles, flicking her glasses up to her forehead. “Besides, like she said, Ruby’s the one to look out for. She seemed all sweet and innocent yesterday, but gods help the person she turns her disapproving stare on. I’ve seen people break into tears on the spot.”

From what Blake had seen yesterday, Ruby isn’t the sort that loses her chipper bounce very easily, so despite Yang’s teasing tone, she files the information away as useful. If she were being a little more self-searching, she might question the action, given her tendency to not stick around in any one place for long. (Surely Beacon isn’t any different. Surely she couldn’t know now if it were.)

“Lucky she missed the race today, then.” Her lips curve, a sharp corner that would require a drift. “What, she couldn’t bear to see you lose again?”

“Oh, ha ha. No, she had class. And she knows there’s no skipping for racing; that’s the only hard and fast rule for our household.” It’s not what she expects, the straight answer backed with genuinity, but it strikes Blake as endearing, somehow, especially when Yang continues. “I started racing here so we could pay for those classes, so I think it’s only fair.”

“That’s — ” Kind. Authentic. Surprising. Blake’s not sure which word to use so she disgards them all. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type who was racing for the money. Not that… there’s anything wrong with that. Especially in your case.”

Yang laughs. “Hey, don’t mistake me. I started racing here for the money, but it’s not why I race in general.”

“So why do you?” Blake asks, even though she suspects she knows the answer. (It’s not wise to take your eyes off the road, but she’s done it in both of her races with Yang, eyes darting to the side to find the woman speeding alongside her: eyes wild, grin wide, the fervor of the moment all over her face. There’s freedom there, more than there is anywhere else, and Blake thinks she sees that in Yang as much as she does in herself.)

“Same as you, I think,” Yang murmurs, closer now, sliding in when Blake’s distracted once again.

“I’m not sure you know me well enough to say that.”

A bluff, of course, but it gets the intended result.

“Not yet.” From this close, Yang looks taller, and Blake has to tilt her chin to look into her eyes. “But I’m still looking to fix that.”

Blake wets her lips. It’s too much, and she’s not sure she can tack on ‘too soon’ to quantify the thought, make it less tame. If she had to guess, Yang will always be too much, like sunlight after coming out of a room. Blake’s not sure she’ll ever adjust to the rays, or if she wants to.

“Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she says again, and Yang laughs again, totally unabashed.

“Okay, I’m sensing a trend here. What, you’re not going to let me take you out unless I win a race again you?”

“If I say ‘yes’, what are you going to do?”

It’s not cockiness that overtakes Yang’s face then, not exactly. It’s confidence or want or determination or maybe just the flush that comes from the thrill of a challenge. Blake’s setting herself up for something here, she knows, failure or disappointment or something like it, but right then, she doesn’t care. There’s a freedom in this sort of race too, and that she’s come to love.

“Oh, that’s easy, Blake.” Yang leans in a little more, and Blake knows it’s audible, the way her breath is cut short. “I’m going to win.”

[honey-milk-depresso]

Stuck with Heartslabyul

I also procrastinated on this for so frickin’ long. I made two other series of being home dorm quarantined with other TWST characters like Octavinelle and Savanaclaw which you can go read if you want! I hope you enjoy this one! ^^

Riddle Rosehearts

He still somehow carry out his dorm leader duties-

Let us shed a tear for this young boy-

also there is from head to toe neatly

V e r y  neatly 

placed in order

organized files, books, documents-

What tf is this an office or a dorm room?????

well whatever-

He thinks that this is the perfect opportunity to bake things.

With you!

Well, truthfully he can’t really bake as well as Trey but he tries,

and if you are by his side baking,

he feels a little bit more confident, and a lot more happier!

Unbirthday parties can’t be carried out since

ya know,

no social contact :’)))

so, he’ll just have daily unbirthday parties with you!

And lemme just tell you,

after so many hours of baking,

he’s getting the hang of it-

And you realized he’s actually really good in setting a tea party atmosphere.

Like he knows how to arrange the teacups,

he prepared frickin’ napkins my lord this Ciel Phantomhive kid is extra-

But not going to lie, 

It’s really pretty the set up.

AND HE GOT THEM ROSE PETALS ON THE TABLE-

EVERYTHING IS ARRANGED SUPER PRETTY-

Buuuut, his baking still needs some work going-

D A N G THO-

“RIDDLE, THAT’S A LOT OF SUGAR-”

“Oh? R-really? Didn’t it say 5 tablespoons?”

“You poured 5 whole cups-”

“Ah-”

Trey Clover

Listen,

being stuck with Trey is the best option-

He bakes

A SHIT TON OF PASTRIES-

And I’m not saying he baked a lot of pastries equivalent to how much he bakes for unbirthday parties-

Oh no non no-

It’s frickin’ thrice the amount-

THE ENTIRE ROOM SMELLS LIKE EVERY SWEET PASTRIES OUT THERE-

He experimented a lot-

From baking macrons, chiffon cakes, frickin’ candy art-

You are blessed when you’re stuck with him, s/o-

seriously-

“Holy shit Trey, what is that??”

“Oh, I’m just carving the chocolate.”

“Honey, that looks like you just created Van Gogh shit, that looks fancy and really hard to do-”

“Sugar, I’ll make your food look and taste like ‘Van Gogh shit’ for you anytime.”

“OH MY SHIT YOUR SO SWEET, I CAN’T-”

Cough cheesy Trey cOuGH

And he’s like a housewife not gonna lie-

he wakes up earlier during quarantine surprisingly, 

maybe cuz he always finish schoolwork MUCH earlier now-

and he doesn’t have much to carry out as Vice dorm-

so he wakes up early,

and cooks frickin pancakes whatever delicious shit that comes to mind for you to eat for breakfast

cbdhidcchnff hnf

W H A T-

Also brush your teeth after you finish eating-

Cater Diamond

Man-

Cup noodle game is strong-

Unhealthy, yes-

but you do all sorts of things with it,

to which he’ll always post on Magicam.

Like you guys make curry instant noodles,

salad with the dry instant noodle bits for salad toppings--

list goes on my dude-

bruh-

and not only that, 

he posts all those like daily life at home (or in this case his dorm room-)

and he’s gonna be posting about E V E R Y T H I N G

From what you both had for breakfast, what you guys did at 3 pm,

Every. Second. Of. Being. Stuck. With. You.

B R U H

“CATER, I LIKE SOME PRIVACY-”

“I know, that’s why I’ll post it in my private account which is my diary btw~”

“First off, your private account has like at least 1000 people in it, secondly, buy yourself an actual book diary, and thirdly, I’m liTERALLY IN THE TOILET WITH UGLY ASS BAGGY PANTS TRYING TO FIX THE LIGHTS-”

“BUT BABE-”

Because of this incident, you bought him a plain writing book online.

You know he wouldn’t like writing with a lot of words,

soooo

Scrapbooking! *Cue the glitter filter*

he has so much fun!

Decorating, pasting all the photos he took with you and printed them out.

He loves it so much! Being stuck with Cater is productive and maybe a little tiring, but hey! Works for the both of you!

Deuce Spade

This boy-

Oh my god-

He’s absolutely so sweet and adorable-

I can’t-

He’s not the best, he knows,

sometimes he wonders why you would ever want to be stuck with him-

but this man puts in more effort than he can to make sure you are comfortable during the pandemic time-

like his cooking went from a C to S class dear-

Although they are egg based dishes, there is

A  w i d e variety in each dish-

And it really tastes good-

But you can tell he’s really tired trying to perfect his dish,

he wished he was Trey my lord-

DONT EVER THINK THAT BBY

YOU ARE PERFECT JUST THE WAY YOU ARE VSJVSWEADFGFHFTYKV-

Cuddle him please,

every day at every hour at every second just pleaseeeee

he needs it-

and he wants it-

but is just shy about it-

GIVE HIM THE CUDDLES-

ahem sorry-

continuing,

he surprisingly took up knitting and wanted you to join in after browsing online for more recipes to which randomly stumbled upon knitting basics videos

So arts and crafts time!!! ahh children-

He knits a very simple cloth at first-

which escalated to become scarves, blankets , mittens, sweaters like-

w o a h

Grandma Deuce-

and he also found these charity organizations who sold homemade products online to collect money to raise funds to give to people in need.

Let us put it as it’s not a scam website.

Soooo he published some of his hand made scarves, blankets and sweaters online-

And I swear this man is so sweet I can’t-

“Well, we have to do something to help these people! And they’re giving us a chance to give them our support!”

YES DEAR U ARE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT

YOU ARE GONNA BE MODEL STUDENT EACH YEAR-

He also used the first handmade blanket he knitted with you as your official sleeping blanket.

With shit tons of cuddles.

Being stuck with Deuce is honestly just so sweet and wholesome.

Ace Trappola

This idiot-

This absolute h e a t h e n-

I just wish you good luck man-

He just absolutely LOVES to prank you.

“ACE WHAT THE FUC-”

“What the fck what?”

“YOU PUT THIS WATER BALLOON ABOVE MY DOOR DIDN’T YOU?!”

“Huh? What makes you think that?”

“WE’RE LITERALLY THE ONLY ONES IN THIS ROOM WHAT YOU MEAN HOW WOULD I FCKING KNOW-”

You just gotta survive by pranking him too.

Also this man-

LOVES

G A M E S

And not just video games,

Oh non no no-

Hide and seek, chase-

ya name it.

At every hour-

You also play virtual UNO with the whole Heartslaybyul gang sometimes-

“WTF GIVE ME A GREEN-”

“AHAHAHAHHAHA-”

“Riddle, lower your microphone level-”

“TREY SHUSH, I’M NOT LETTING THAT ACE BASTARD WIN, SO I WNT THIS STUPID CARD DECK TO GIVE ME GREEN-”

*Pulls a green card*

“FINALLY!”

*You put in the green reverse card*

*Switch back to poor Riddle lmao*

“NOOOOOOOOO, WTF GIVE ME A GREENNNNN-”

“AHAHAHA NICE ONE S/O-”

Cuddles

every night-

moving on,

He’s also the type who will make memes of the two of you when being stuck together lmao-

As for food-

either take out or you cook-

He cannot be trusted with the kitchen-

he can’t take one step in it no joke-

All in all, being stuck with Ace is really just crack level head energy soraing through the sky with his love dovey antics.

[mercy-burning]

A Shit-Ton Of Sugar

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer work up the nerve to ask each other out after he’s been coming into her café for the past year. Category: FLUFF Warnings: Implied smut, nothing else :) Word Count: 5.3k

Full Request: “...Congrats on 1k that’s so exciting! I was hoping to request barista!reader that works at the coffee shop that Spencer goes to every morning, and literally knowing his order by heart??? And maybe like finally working up the nerve to ask him out/give him her number? Preferably fluffy, but I don’t mind! Thank you!” — @bauhousewife 

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

***

DAY 1

The first day he came into the shop, she felt like she couldn't breathe, which may have sounded like a cliché, but how else were you supposed to feel when a man like that walked in and just existed in the same space as you?

However, when she heard the bell ring, signaling someone coming into the tiny café, the fact that it was almost six-thirty in the morning was enough to make her grumpy. Whoever it was didn't even have the decency to wait a half hour until they officially opened? So, she turned around to face the stranger, ready to put on a fake smile and act like she didn't secretly want to strangle them, and then laid her eyes on probably the most beautiful human being she'd seen in a long time.

His eyebrows lifted, simultaneously expressing a greeting and an apology. "I—I'm sorry, I know you're not technically open for another half hour, but I'm in a rush on my way to work and I was wondering if I could just get a quick coffee to go?"

It was obvious that he tried to speak evenly, but between apologizing and being late to work, his words still came out rather fast. And suddenly her annoyance faded, quickly turning into a need to please him however she could.

"Oh! Oh, no worries, I can do that," she rushed out, scrambling to smooth out her apron. "What can I get you?"

A flash of relief flooded the man's eyes when he blinked, and his posture seemed just as relieved, his shoulders slumping slightly as he took a breath. "Just a black coffee with lots of sugar is fine, thank you."

"No problem. I'll have that up in a minute. Size?"

"Large, please."

As she got to work, he waited as patiently as he could, looking around the small space.

It truly was what everyone would describe as "home-y". Everything was painted a pale yellow, with lavender and sage green accents in the form of window trim, picture frames, little knick-knacks, and art pieces. As the man scanned over the few tables, he found little centerpieces of old ceramic mugs with flowers painted on them, each one containing real (or maybe fake? he couldn't tell) flower arrangements.

He smiled to himself as he found everything so... comforting. And as his eyes finally made their way back to the barista behind the counter, he finally got a good look at her.

"This is... your place? You own it?"

The woman turned back to him briefly as she poured the coffee into a large to-go cup. "Oh, yeah. I just opened up a few months ago. We don't get too much business, but that's fine by me as long as it's enough to pay the bills."

At her laugh, he smiled a little wider. It was a nice sound, just as comforting and home-y as the place he stood in. "Well, i—it's really nice, congratulations. I'm glad things are working out for you."

She laughed again a little, and if he knew any better he would have swore she was blushing. "Thank you. Um... How much sugar did you say you wanted?"

It was his turn to blush now, the way she was looking at him completely doing something wicked to his insides. "O—oh, um... I guess I never really did specify, huh? Sorry about that, um... Just three tablespoons is fine."

It was clear that he really didn't want to be an inconvenience, even more so when he mumbled a, "Sorry," so soft that Y/N wasn't even sure she heard it. Even still, she put on her best smile—even as she was turned around—to make sure he knew that she wasn't annoyed with him at all.

Though, it wasn't hard to keep smiling when she couldn't think to do anything else around him. Just the thought of his face made her want to smile, like she had a choice in the matter.

She finished the coffee, putting on a lid and turning around to face him again. "Can I get your name?"

He paused for a moment, like he was shocked she'd even ask, but laughed to himself and swallowed before responding, two syllables that almost sent her into cardiac arrest. "Spencer."

Suits him... she thought as she wrote his name down on the cup, her handwriting a pretty mix of cursive and print. And seeing his name spelled out in the penmanship she always got complimented on growing up looked like it might have been the most satisfying black marker trail she'd ever seen. Almost as satisfying as his face...

She cleared her throat and slid the cup across the counter to him, hoping she wouldn't be too obvious about her little eye-candy crush when she spoke. "Three-fifty is your total."

Spencer grabbed a five dollar bill from his jacket pocket and held it out, his fingers just barely brushing hers when she took it from him. If not for the intense concentration she was immersed in, trying not to embarrass herself, she would have jumped at the contact. Instead, she quickly ducked her face behind the tall register to keep from him seeing the stupid grin she couldn't keep away as she opened the drawer and started counting change. When she handed it over, though, she set it on the counter, hoping she could avoid touching him again.

He looked like he was about to say something, but instead, he scooped the change into his hand and immediately dropped it in the empty tip jar, a small smile on his face.

Just as Y/N said, "Thank you," Spencer grabbed his coffee and said the same, the both of them immediately going warm at the interaction. They let out a small laugh then, Y/N tucking a piece of hair behind her ear before she spoke again.

"Thank you for coming in," she said with a nod.

Spencer took a sip of his coffee and nodded back with a nod of his own. "A—and thank you for the excellent coffee."

Even after he left, she waited until he was across the street and completely out of sight before she let out a long, dramatic breath, immediately followed by a, "Holy shit."

And little did she know, it took everything within him not to keep looking back at the café as he left it—and her—behind.

DAY 5

She should have known it was too good to be true. In fact, if it weren't for the vivid physical and emotional reaction she'd had to seeing him lasting for days after it happened, she would have though she'd imagined the entire interaction. Spencer was quite literally the man of her dreams, if only because that's the one and only place he seemed to exist as of late.

Of course, it'd only been five days, and there was a possibility that he could come in again. Right?

Y/N shook away all thoughts of him as best as she could, focusing her attention to cleaning up the tables and closing for the night. The café was empty, the last customer having left no more than five minutes ago. But even as she cleaned tables, Y/N kept the sign on the door flipped to 'OPEN'— because the café closed for good at 10pm, and it was only 9:47. Though no one ever came in past 9:30, she figured it was better safe than sorry.

Soon enough, the small café started to smell more like lemon-scented surface cleaner than coffee, but Y/ didn't mind. In fact, as much as she loved the smell of coffee, after a long day it started to give her a little headache, one that instantly cleared once she started cleaning and closing up. It was calming, getting the place ready for the next day in the peace and quiet. She always turned half of the lights off so it wasn't as bright, a fact she was grateful for especially after the sun went down, but mostly because it made the place feel more atmospheric. Dim lighting during nightfall was probably Y/N's favorite feeling in the world.

At least, she thought it was.

She wasn't so sure anymore when the bell on the door rang and she turned around to see the man of her dreams, in all his tall, well-dressed, beautiful glory. 

She froze instantly, the bottle of cleaner falling softly from her hands and dropping onto the table, making her jump.

"Oh, I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Spencer said quietly.

"N—no, it's... Um, it's fine," Y/N laughed, more embarrassed than anything. "I just wasn't expecting anyone to come in so late, we usually don't get anyone after 9:30."

"Yeah, I... I know it's late, I apologize, um... I just got back from work and I figured I'd stop by for a pick-me-up, i—if that's alright."

There he went again, acting like being in her presence was such an inconvenience for her, and it made her stomach do flip flops. There was no way he wasn't a figment of her imagination, right? He always showed up at the weirdest time, nervously asking for a cup of coffee like he wasn't supposed to be there.

Granted, this was only the second time it's happened, but the sentiment remained the same.

Either way, Y/N was happy to oblige.

"It's always alright. What can I get you this time?" She smoothed out her apron before sprinting behind the counter, turning on a lamp in the back that illuminated more of the kitchen.

"Oh, a black coffee is fine."

She couldn't help but laugh as she grabbed a to-go cup. "No mountains of sugar this time?"

To her surprise, he laughed back, and the sound made her feel warm. She wasn't looking at him because she was laser-focusing on the coffee making as to not make another embarrassment of herself, but she could see his smile in her head all the same. Hopefully the dimmer lighting wouldn't give her away, another stupid grin rising to her face.

"Mountains of sugar would be fantastic, actually," he said, his voice ever so warm and friendly, albeit soft. He was obviously tired, and if he was looking to stay awake, this coffee would definitely do the trick for a few hours.

"You sound like you had quite a long day," Y/N observed as she started brewing a new pot of coffee.

"Long week, more like... Work has been... a little rough."

The exhaustion threaded in his voice made her heart ache a little. "I'm sorry to hear that. Though, it sounds like you should be getting sleep instead of coffee."

When Spencer laughed this time, it was humorless. "Yeah, well, in my line of work sleep doesn't really come easily..."

Y/N glanced up at him then to see his head tilted upward as he stared at the ceiling. The dim lights of the café accentuated the peak of his nose and his jawline, and if not for the clear exhaustion highlighting his features, she would have taken more excitement in the fact that he was there, standing in front of her looking like a beautiful sculpture for free.

Though that was definitely an upside to him finally stopping by again, deep down she knew the reason he was there now wasn't because of her; He needed coffee, some semblance of comfort and probably normalcy after a shitty week. And Y/N was inclined to understand exactly how he felt in that regard.

"I'm sorry to hear that," is all she said on the subject. But she had an idea, hoping to brighten his day just a little, to bring another smile to his face. "Tell you what, I'll give you an extra coffee, no additional charge, and if you want, I'll even send you on your way with some of these extra muffins."

The half-worried, 'oh-shit-I'm-being-a-hassle' look on his face was almost familiar at this point, making Y/N laugh a little to herself.

"O—oh, Y/N, I couldn't do that, I—"

Ignoring the feeling she got when he said her name aloud, she stopped him, shook her head, and started pouring the freshly brewed coffee into two large to-go cups. "Really, Spencer, it's fine. I'll have to throw it all out otherwise, and this way it saves me the trouble. Trust me, you'd be doing me a favor."

"A—are you sure? I don't want to get you in trouble..."

"I own the place," she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "And since I'm my own boss, I can confidently say that I won't get in trouble."

Though his smile wasn't as wide as she remembered, the sweetness and utter thankfulness she saw in it this time around was enough to call it a win. "Thank you... A—and again, I know it's late, I'm sorry for coming in—"

"Nonsense. You're welcome here any time," she reassured him with a smile almost as sweet as his coffee.

Maybe one day Spencer would stop apologizing, but as long as he kept returning to the café, Y/N didn't mind whether he did or not.

DAY 30 

Y/N was feeling rather bold today. Not bold enough to actually ask him out or anything, but bold enough to have his order ready when he came in.

Over time she learned that Spencer's work schedule was pretty random, that he traveled a lot, therefore he probably wouldn't be in every day. But a few days ago, he mentioned he was scheduled for a week off, which rarely happened, and today marked the fifth day of his mini vacation— every single day prior, he stopped in at exactly 9:00am. 

Taking the chance that he would be stopping in a fifth day in a row, Y/N was already making his usual coffee at 8:50.

Beside her, her friend and employee, Heather, snickered, finishing up with a customer and teasing Y/N with an evil grin. "You're so whipped."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she responded quietly, stirring in the mountains of sugar and setting the spoon down beside the cup.

"If you don't ask him out, Y/N, I swear... No way a man like that's gonna stay single forever, you gotta make your move."

"Who says I'm not going to?"

"Oh, so when you hand him his coffee today, you're going to give him your number and not just freeze and chicken out? You know, like you always do?"

She glared at Heather, but it only lasted for a split second before it turned into a look of pure pining and sadness. Pathetic... "Probably not..."

Heather patted Y/N on the shoulder. "It's alright, babe. When he comes in, just be yourself. He obviously likes you, enough to come in every day for your shitty coffee..."

The shit-eating grin on her friend's face was enough to make Y/N laugh again, and she shook her head, then turned back to put the lid on Spencer's cup. "Yeah, yeah... We'll see what happens. But I get what you're saying."

As Heather went off to clean some tables, Y/N wrote out his name on the cup, contemplating whether or not she should put her number next to it. What could be the harm in that, right? It was cute and charming as hell.

Just as she was about to write the first number down the chimes sounded above the door, and as some type of Pavlovian response, Y/N set down the marker and looked up to see if it was him. Instantly she berated herself for being so obvious, but by the look on Spencer's face when he approached, he didn't look phased in the slightest.

"Hey, Sugar," Y/N called out to him, sliding him the coffee and feeling butterflies swarm her stomach at the look on his face when he heard the nickname.

Then she realized she called him by a nickname...

Even though he still smiled and took the coffee, reaching into his pocket for money and clearly not phased in the least by her affectionate nickname for him, it still made her insides flare with a little embarrassment. And if she wasn't nervous about seeing him before, she most certainly was now that he was in front of her, smiling at her and being as kind and charming as ever with few words.

He was going to leave, grabbing the cup and turning, but halfway to the door, he turned back around, and when he spoke it sounded like he was as nervous as she was.

"Oh, um... I'm leaving to visit my mom this weekend, so, I just... Wanted to let you know... You know, so you don't waste your time and resources on my order..."

Though he was obviously looking out for her, Y/N still felt this overwhelming flood of foolishness, like he actually did find it strange that she memorized his order and made it for him so it would be ready on the dot when he got there. She figured, just for a moment, that it was his subtle way of telling her he thought she was taking things to a whole new level of weird.

"O—Oh, sure. Thanks for the heads up. Enjoy your weekend." She gave him her best smile, hoping her insecurity didn't bleed through.

But then he said, "You, too, Y/N," and smiled back, looking at her for a moment that lingered just a little too long before turning away. And before he actually walked out the door, he stopped and looked back at her again, giving a small wave as his face showed all signs of reluctance to leave.

She wasn't sure how long she stared at the empty doorway, but Heather's laugh broke her from the trance.

"You know you have nothing to worry about, right? He's definitely into you."

"You... You think?" she returned softly.

"I know. The next time he comes in, give him your number."

DAY 84

Turns out, Heather was completely wrong.

Y/N hadn't seen Spencer for weeks, and then the next time he came in, there was a girl with him. Y/N tried extra hard not to jump to conclusions— maybe she was just a friend? Or a sibling, or a co-worker... And besides, even if the girl was dating him, it's not like it would have been any of her business, right? She barely knew the guy, and though it hurt to have this stupid crush on him just to find out he had a girlfriend and she'd misread the entire situation, that's all it was. A crush.

A crush that, in the end, well... crushed her.

Because the girl was, in fact, his girlfriend. He didn't really introduce her at first, but the second day they came into the café together, they were holding hands. And the girl, short and pretty and adorning a beautiful mane of long, red hair, clung to his side, giving him the same doe eyes Y/N had been teased by Heather for giving him that day he'd left. Not to mention, when they ordered, the girl called him "Babe".

It was absolutely crushing.

Y/N didn't want to cry, because it was stupid for a grown woman to cry over some dude she barely knew, right? But that didn't stop the tears from welling as soon as said dude and his freaking girlfriend stepped out of the café, leaving her behind with an ache that she hadn't felt in ages.

She and Heather went out drinking that night, and after a few days of wallowing, Y/N promptly decided that Spencer and his stupid, beautiful face and his stupid, beautiful girlfriend could kiss her ass.

Of course, immediately after, she felt bad for thinking so negatively and just settled on staying out of their business.

But it didn't help that they came in almost every day for months. Even when Spencer was at work, therefore absent, his girlfriend was there. Jeannie, her name was. She had a regular order, too, one that Y/N couldn't help but dread making every morning but did anyway, even going so far as to have it ready for her when she came in. And Jeannie was incredibly nice, a fact which Y/N hated because it would have been way easier to deal with if she was awful. At least then, she could have maybe felt better about herself for being a nicer person, but she knew that wasn't fair.

This particular day, though, Spencer came in alone. And despite herself, the first thing Y/N said to him was, "Where's Jeannie?"

Maybe she should have known by the look on his face, but he sighed, returning her question with a simple, "Delaware."

Y/N started to make his usual order, keeping the conversation light even though she was inwardly sighing at he prospect of discussing his girlfriend's whereabouts. "What's she doing there?"

She wasn't looking at him, but the sadness in his voice stopped her in her tracks. "She's there with her husband."

"Uh... What?"

"Turns out she's been engaged for the past five years... They, uh... Took a break to see other people to really see if they wanted to get married, and I guess they... got married. Last week."

"Holy shit. Spencer, I... I don't know what to say, I'm... sorry..."

He didn't say anything, only giving a half-hearted smile that conveyed more sadness than anything. Y/N hated that someone had the audacity to make him feel that way... to use him like that without at the very least telling him her situation first, before getting into a relationship.

She finished his order, but before handing it to him, she reached for a blueberry muffin and wrapped it up. And as he took money out of his pocket, she sook her head and slid his things over across the counter. "Everything's on the house today."

"Y/N, you don't have t—"

"I insist. Jeannie did a stupid thing, and you deserve better than that... You deserve something good. And I know this is small and probably nothing, but I don't care."

A little of the sadness from his smile replaced itself with amusement, and Y/N decided she'd take it. He muttered a small, "Thank you," before grabbing his coffee, but before he took the muffin he looked her dead in the eye and deposited the five dollar bill from his other hand straight into the tip jar.

She sighed and shook her head at him.

But that only widened the smile on his face, most of the sadness gone. In fact, it looked more like a satisfied smirk as he grabbed the muffin and turned to leave.

Despite Spencer's refusal to not pay, Y/N found herself smiling as he left.

DAY 174

Thankfully there were no more girlfriends after that. 

Well, okay, it wasn't fair of Y/N to say that, because if she wanted to take her shot she would have, and she couldn't get mad every time he had a new girlfriend. 

But of course, that didn't mean she couldn't be relieved every time she saw him walk in alone.

This time it was Valentine's Day. The café was decorated with sparkly red garland and pink, red, and white hearts that dangled from the ceiling. All the flowers on the tables were replaced with roses and tealight candles, and currently, almost everyone was rushing to buy the chocolate-covered strawberry arrangements that Y/N made herself. 

She was currently in the back, working on making more when Heather came rushing to the room, calling out her name.

A small panic started to sink in, because if Heather needed more supplies or more of the strawberry arrangements, she would have just sent back a ring of the bell on the doorway to the kitchen. But she almost knocked over said arrangements on her way in, and Y/N was worried that maybe something bad happened.

"Heather, what's wrong?" she asked hurriedly, smearing chocolate all over her apron.

"Nothing's wrong, but your boy is here. He's asking to see you!"

Her heart leapt out of her chest, and suddenly it was like the wind got knocked out of her. "S—Spencer?"

"Yes!" Heather half-squealed, reaching out to pull at Y/N's arm. "Go!"

"Wait! Wait, how... how do I look?"

"Take off the apron, pull down your shirt a little."

"Heather!"

"You asked! If he's here to ask you out, why not give him a little preview? Now c'mon, hand the apron over." She held her hand out, waiting for Y/N to take it off.

She grumbled as she did, suddenly more nervous than she'd ever been. Her hands shook as she untied the apron and threw it over to Heather. She looked down at the deep red v-neck she wore and sighed, pulling it down a little to give a better view of her cleavage. She fluffed her hair out, letting out a huge sigh and then shaking out her hands.

"You're hot, now go!" Heather exclaimed, practically pushing her out of the kitchen and into the bright café main room.

The moment Y/N stepped out, she saw him immediately. And as always, he looked absolutely perfect... In the last few months, he'd let his hair grow out a little, strands of it tucked behind his ear while most of it fell loose atop his head. Currently he was wearing a long coat, though she couldn't tell what was underneath. But she didn't need to know, really, because he could have showed up wearing a garbage bag and she still would have practically drooled at the sight of him.

Swallowing, Y/N made her way over to him with a smile, Heather following behind.

"Hi," she said, hoping her nerves wouldn't show through. "Heather said you asked for me?"

"U—uh, yeah. Hi, um... Sorry if you're busy, I just wanted to... stop by, say Happy Valentine's Day..."

Her heart beat faster than it ever had, and seeing him smile this nervously in her direction made it all the more endearing. "Oh, thank you," she said, giving him a small wave and then wondering why when she could have done literally anything else... Wink? Finger guns?—No, Y/N, what are you thinking? Just keep cool and talk to him like a normal person! "Do you... have any plans?"

Spencer stood still, seemingly starstruck by the question for a few, long, seconds before blinking and slightly shaking his head. "O—Oh, yeah, um... Some friends and I are going out for drinks later, that's all. Should be kinda boring, actually, not really my scene..."

"Oh... Boring's nice, though, sometimes. Personally all the huge Valentine's Day plans are kinda over-the-top anyway." She might as well have been wearing a sign on her forehead that said Lie! Lie! Lie!

He laughed, though, and Y/N's heart sunk. "Yeah, you're right... Um, I'll let you get back to work, then, I just wanted to stop in and say hi." 

"Oh... You don't... want coffee or anything? I—I've got these chocolate-covered strawberry arrangements, too, if you want one. You know, 'cause why not?"

"Oh! Uh, sure. That... That sounds great."

His smile lit her insides on fire, ad she tried desperately not to stumble as she worked her way through the kitchen, making everything. He waited patiently by the side of the counter, trying equally as hard not to keep sneaking glances at her as she worked. Meanwhile the pink post-it note with his phone number in red ink burned in his pocket, his hands shaking as he struggled to think of a scenario in which he wouldn't fumble with it and completely make a fool of himself. Because now that he was there, in her presence, it was a lot harder to pretend like he had the confidence to actually ask her out.

And when she brought his order, she flashed that beautiful smile and he knew immediately that he would never be able to give her the post-it. Whether she knew it or not, she made him nervous, and if he was going  to mess everything up, he certainly wasn't going to do it in a café full of people on Valentine's Day. He'd never recover.

So Spencer accepted the coffee and the small bouquet of fruit, trying his best not to drop it with shaky hands. "Thank you. How much?"

"For you, on the house," Y/N returned. "And please don't just put a 5 in the tip jar. I'm getting really tired of you doing that."

They both laughed, the memories of every time since the last time he'd done it sparking between them like lightning. Almost every time she insisted on giving him his coffee for free, he pulled a 5-dollar bill from his pocket and landed it in the jar, and every time she rolled her eyes at him and told him to get out.

"Well, I have to give you something," Spencer insisted, the paper in his pocket burning even hotter.

Likewise, Y/N felt like she was going to lose her balance again. Was he going to ask her out? Heaven forbid, would he kiss her? "What do you have in mind?"

The deep tone of her voice sent a chill through him, and in that moment it was now or never. So he set the coffee down on the counter and reached into his pocket. Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her with a raise of his eyebrows. "It's not what you think. I promise."

Somehow she didn't believe him.

But then he pulled out a hot pink piece of paper and slipped it in the tip jar instead, his eyes never leaving hers. "I really hope you empty the jar at the end of every day, otherwise this is going to be a little embarrassing."

"What... What is it?" she asked softly, though she already had an inkling of the answer.

And then he said something that made her heart soar. "I think you already know."

Sure enough, Y/N looked down and saw numbers written on the sheet of paper through the glass. She smiled, letting it burn heart-shaped holes into her eyes.

Spencer was gone when she looked back up, but the image of him was still seared into her brain.

DAY 366

They hadn't even made it out of the parking lot. And you'd think that after months of dating and going on dates he would have been used to how pretty she looked, but alas, yet again he couldn't wait, and now Spencer and Y/N were laying in the backseat of her car, praying no one had just seen what went down not twenty minutes ago.

"You know what, I think that has to be a record," she laughed, combing through his damp hair with her fingers. "I didn't even have my seatbelt on yet."

He laughed with her. "You know I'm impatient..."

"Yeah, and I also know that we're certainly not going to make those dinner reservations you worked so hard all month to get. All that hard work, for nothing!"

He scoffed, though the smirk on his face never faltered. "I hardly think it was for nothing... You are definitely something... Besides, I had to, because today is very special."

"Oh, and why's that?"

"Well... I don't know if you know this, but you and I met exactly one year ago today. And I've never been the same since."

Y/N looked up at him, eyes wide. "Has... Has it really been that long already?"

"Mhm... And it only seems like it hasn't been that long because we've only been technically dating for 192 days... But I wanted to celebrate anyway. Because no matter how long we've been dating, I've actually been enamored by you for 366 days. And counting."

Warmth flooded through her veins as she hugged him tighter to her, pressing a kiss to his jaw before nuzzling into his neck. "Oh, Sugar... I love you."

Spencer smiled fondly at the nickname, thinking back to all the times he'd watched her pour a shit-ton of sugar into his coffee at her cute little café— the one he'd only ever stumbled on by accident because he was running late for work and needed a quick fix of caffeine. Turns out it had been the best accident he'd ever stumbled into.

"I love you, too, Y/N."

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[soliavenne]

Between Naked Souls - 1 (Gaara x Reader R-18 Fanfiction)

Hiii, everyone! :) <3 This long fic had been my baby since early September. It took really long, but I think a part of me is in agreement that this story really needed that amount time to develop, and I'm really proud and happy of what it has resulted to. This work really means the world to me. It had exhausted me beyond measure but I have really fallen in love with it.

Warning: NSFW work ahead.

Word count: 26.6k (I know, self-control is not my best suit.)

I hope you enjoy! <3 

Cover art by yours truly. 

---

Gaara jolted awake with a choked gasp; the clawing sensation down his now hoarse throat as the strain caused by unintelligible growls for help that has been leaving his mouth for the past twenty minutes began to catch up with his dawning consciousness. He propped his elbows behind his back, his chest heaving up and down heavily as he tried to chase his breath. He continued to shift backwards until he felt the headboard press against his back in support to his weakening composure. Gaara brushed his forearms across his forehead, making him wince when he raked his fingers down his now, sweat-dampened hair. He really wasn’t able to conjure images just yet as his eyes were still adjusting to the almost pitch black darkness of his room, so he gasped in shock when he felt something touch the back of his hand, with his head automatically shooting towards the direction in which the surprising gesture came from.

“Hey…” Your voice croaked, followed by a yawn as you rubbed your knuckles against your eyes. “Gaara? Are you awake?” You slowly sat up, swinging your body towards the side of the bed to reach for the lamp above the nightstand. After turning it on, you returned your attention towards Gaara, whose chest was still heaving up and down, with his face angled towards the ceiling; eyes glued shut, skin pale and sweaty. Your blood ran cold out of panic, as his current state was unraveled to you. You quickly grabbed a fist of the blanket before throwing it out towards the floor to give him some air. The amount of concerned queries that rambled down your mouth without any sense of halting any time soon was cut short when Gaara placed his hand above yours, giving it a firm squeeze to snap you out of your agitated daze.

“Y/N,” Gaara breathed out as he was still trying to stabilize his panting. “there’s nothing to worry about...”

You leaned over towards Gaara, your knees pressed down against the mattress. You reached out for him and placed a palm against his forehead. “What do you feel, Gaara? Do you feel sick?”

“No,” Gaara let out a deep sigh as he crossed his arms against his stomach; palms sluggishly rubbing up and down his arms in hopes of calming the chills enveloping his body. “it’s just… another nightmare.”

Your eyes went soft at what you heard, and over the very sight that that was happening before you. He only had little to no time that was reserved so that he could take a proper rest, yet even that was being robbed away from him. You couldn’t help it, your stomach continued to drop in a bottomless pit of pity, as it felt like you could almost sense every fiber of fatigue and exhaustion from your lover.

Gaara doesn’t deserve any of this.

“Tsk,” Gaara groaned, as his head started to throb in pain. He pressed the pads of his index and middle finger against his opposite temples, massaging it in circles to alleviate the pulsing pain. “I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I didn’t mean to wake you up like that… I’m so sorry, my love.”

“Hey…” Your voice softened at him, as you reached out for the side of his face so that you could redirect it towards yours. “you have nothing to apologize for, okay?” You stroked his cheek as you smiled reassuringly before him. “None of this is your fault, Gaara.”

Another worn out sigh ripped from his chest. Gaara held your hand that was placed against his cheek, caressing it with his thumb before leaning his lips towards your palm to kiss it gently. “I will be alright, Y/N. You have nothing to be concerned about.”

“Well, that’s too bad… I’m kinda’ bound to be always concerned about you no matter what.” You chuckled at him, eliciting a small smile from your lover in return. You ran your fingers through his locks, a little surprised when you felt how soaking wet it was. “You’re so sweaty right now, Gaara. Let me grab some towel and water, alright?”

There was a sight of a slight pout on Gaara’s lips, his gaze anywhere but in direct contact with yours. “Stay…”

Your hand on his cheek travelled down his shoulder, and down on his hand, giving it a soft squeeze to ease him down a bit. “But you might suffer from colds if I let you go back to sleep like that, Gaara.” He seemed like he was about to speak another word, but he nodded in agreement after a minute of silence. You stood up from the bed, opening the closet and rummaging through his clothes before grabbing another pair sleeping garments for your lover; placing it on top of the mattress. Prior to walking straight towards the door, you went towards Gaara, who was now watching you from his side of the bed. You ushered his face closer towards yours by both sides of his jaw, before pressing a soft kiss on his forehead. “I won’t take long, I promise.”

“Promise?” Gaara mumbled, his soft voice feeling like he was tugging on your heartstrings.

“Yes, Gaara. I promise.” You smiled at him once again. “I will be back.”

The subtle sound of your footsteps echoed throughout the corridor as you walked towards the kitchen. Despite how dim it was, you somehow knew exactly where to walk through to get towards the switch; as it finally seems like you have already memorized the layout of Gaara’s house over the course of time you have spent inside it.

Gaara was indeed a busy man, he was the Kazekage of the village after all. He rarely comes home, as he never really found any reason to stay inside his house all by himself when he could just be doing paperwork instead inside his office. It did change, though, when the two of you had started dating one another. After a year of being together, Gaara finally invited you over to his house, and you swore that the whole vibe that it radiated off was as if his house was recently furnished, and was finally in commercial to be sold. It was spotlessly-clean, from up the ceiling, down the floor; a little monotonous and plain if you were to be honest; not entirely homey, as expected from someone who doesn’t really live much inside his own home; a decision with a much more deeper reason that you have just been recently informed of when Gaara offered you to stay with him for the meantime while you were looking for a new apartment to move in.

When you started living with Gaara, he offered you the luxury of having his bedroom to yourself, which something you disagreed wholeheartedly with. There was no way you were going to let him sleep on the couch when the two of you could fit snugly on top of his bed. The only thing that made you agreed to his proposition was when he said that he wasn’t ready to share a bed just yet; so as much as you wanted to tell him it was more than okay for you to sleep beside one another, the last thing you wanted was to put pressure on him.

It was when you woke up in the middle of the night to drink water, when you found him sitting alone in the couch in a sleepy daze, his elbows pressed on top of his thighs with his face buried into his hand. His hair was disheveled, and his breathing was labored. When you sat beside him, asking him what was wrong, the frustration and weariness in his voice was evident.

“I had a nightmare…”

According to Gaara, it seemed like he had started suffering from recurring nightmares a year after the Fourth Great Ninja War, confessing to you how he had been coping about it ever since. Gaara said that he tries to take short naps throughout the day in order to make up for little to no sleep that he gets at night. He tries to steer himself away from sleeping at the comfort of his home, because when the exhaustion catches up to him, he ends up losing control over the state of sleep, making him susceptible to another yet episode of a nightmare.

The next morning, you almost pleaded to Gaara to finally sleep beside you.

“Please, Gaara. If you were in my place, you know it yourself that you would do everything you can just so you could take care of me. We should always take care of each other no matter what.”

It honestly took a lot of convincing before you got Gaara to agree with you. He kept telling you that he didn’t want to disturb what should be a night of peaceful sleep for you, but you knew it yourself that having him beside you would not be the reason of you losing sleep, but the fact that you would always be worried sick about him. Who was he kidding? How could you even get an ounce of sleep now after knowing what he goes through at night? As much was you wanted him to give him the autonomy over his decisions, this wasn’t any matter that should be dealt alone with, and Gaara knows that himself. If you were to be the one in his place, he wouldn’t sit still about it as well.

After a minute of letting the kettle’s whistle tear through the quiet of the night, you wrapped a rug on the plastic handle before taking it off the flame. You leaned downwards to grab a small basin from the cabinet, filling half of it with cold water under the faucet before turning it off. You poured the hot water in intervals, feeling the water with your other hand now and then as you tried to bring it up to a proper temperature; the steam coming off of it feeling rather nice against your cold cheeks. You placed two bath towels over your shoulder, and just before you were about to lift the basin from the sink, you felt someone shift behind your back.

It was Gaara.

You felt his hands travel from your waist, towards on top of your stomach as he pulled you in for a backhug. “Let me carry that.” Gaara whispered into your ear before pressing a soft kiss on your cheek.

“You should be resting on the bed,” You mumbled, your voice laced with just a tiny bit of scolding. “I’m supposed to be the caretaker here, Gaara.”

Gaara smiled against your face, as he continued to plant gentle kisses upon your skin. “I will always take care of you… as much as you take care of me, even if I’m incapacitated to do so. We’ll always take of each other no matter what; that’s what you said, right?”

Your chest tightened with what you just heard, feeling a soft brush of warmth across your now probably flushed cheeks. Before you knew it, Gaara was already walking back towards the bathroom with the basin at hand, leaving you a flustered mess in the kitchen.

The windows were now opened, and the moonlight bathed the bedroom in a gentle, luminous glow. Gaara sat still on the edge of the bed that was facing the window, eyes trained on the side as you stood before him. The basin was on your right side, sitting above a wooden stool, with the bath towel now soaking the warm water inside it.

“Uhm… Would you rather have me take off your clothes, or you want to do it by yourself?”

After turning on the night lamp, you saw a clearer glimpse of Gaara’s face, which was currently laced with concern. After a minute or two of wondering why, that was when you realized what he had been thinking about ever since he sat on the bed.

“You have nothing to worry about, Gaara. I don’t mind… seeing you with your clothes off.”

Gaara’s chest tightened, as his face started to get as red as his hair. He pursed his lips subtly out of embarrassment, before pulling his dampened shirt over his head, folding it neatly above his lap before placing it down the floor. Gaara stood up from the bed, before pulling his pajamas down until it pooled down his feet. You redirected your gaze towards the walls behind your lover, your lips in a slight pout as you tried to release a subtle, drawn out sigh to ease your jittering nerves.

“I’m… I’m done.” Gaara murmured, his palms pressed down against the mattress on both sides of his body, as he was now left wearing nothing but black, cotton boxers, a messy hair, and a blushing face.

You smiled nervously at him before taking a sit beside him, the mattress sinking down a little in response to the movement. You reached for the bath towel lying on the bottom of the basin, and with both hands, you squeezed the excess water out, dipping it up and down as you continued to drain it just until it was damp enough to cleanse his body off of the stickiness of his sweat. Gaara rotated himself to face you directly, so that you could have a better access to his body. You grabbed him softly by his wrist, starting by his hands. You gently rubbed both of his palms, before cleaning in between of his fingers. “Your hands are rather pretty, don’t you think? They’re so soft… and slender.”

“I never took notice of that,” Gaara mumbled in between of trying his best to meet your gaze, but failing nevertheless halfway through it. “but, uhm… thank you, Y/N.”

You smiled back at him while you were rubbing the towel from his wrist towards his arm in firm, upwards strokes, doing the same thing with the other one before returning the towel into the basin, allowing it to soak up water for a minute or two before wringing it out once again, the sound of water dripping down the basin sounding rather relaxing as it consorted the quietness of the night perfectly.

“Uchiha… Sasuke, huh?” You asked curiously, as you were now rubbing the towel on top of his left shoulder, gazing intrigued at the huge scar just a few inches below the tail of his collarbone. There was an odd, circular looking-shape at the center, its edges jagged; seemingly appearing to be the epicenter of the attack. It seemed to branch out in different directions, some of it being three to four inches in length, finalized by extensions of smaller, thinner limbs of scar. The color of it was in between oleander and umber, rather a little glossy in appearance considering how old it was.

“Hmm…” Gaara sighed with a slight, amused smile on his face; remembering that he once considered his scar as a memento of the very day he met his first friend; Uzumaki, Naruto.

“What do you think about it?”

“…About what?”

“Your scar.”

You were now scrubbing the damp cloth against his chest, and you couldn’t help but get a little nervous.

Gaara wasn’t overly buff, his muscles were rather lean and well-defined. It wasn’t the type to put an exaggerated strain on the fabric of his clothes, as Gaara himself also opts for a looser approach of garments; so you were rendered surprised when you saw how toned his upper muscles actually were; specifically his shoulders and his arms, which may have probably been a result of the years he had spent carrying that heavy, large gourd on his back.

He really was… beautiful.

Gaara has been noticing how lingering your stare was over his body for the past few minutes, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him self-conscious. He tries to diffuse his embarrassment by answering your questions in return. “Well… it does bear some emotional significance to me, since during that day, a lot of what took in place changed my life forever.”

You nodded back at Gaara, knowing exactly what he was talking about since this wasn’t really the first time he told you about what happened during the final round of the chunin exams.

“Appearance-wise…” Gaara sighed in thought, “I guess I myself don’t really mind it that much, but…” Gaara trailed off, as he was now trying to avert his gaze away from you once again. You didn’t want to inquire further, even though the curiosity was killing you. If there’s anything that Gaara solidified in you, that was improving your ever short-lived patience. You smiled at him before dropping the towel once again, squeezing the water out as you hummed.

“Let me clean your face now.” You shifted closer to Gaara, as the side of your knee was now brushing against his. Since you have to lean a little closer to him, you ended up unconsciously placing your warm palm on top of his naked thigh, the abrupt contact eliciting an inward gasp from Gaara; his shock not visible at all to you with how excellent he was in trying to bottle every reaction he has behind his usual, stoic face. What he couldn’t hide though was how his other hand was clenched in a tight fist, his thumb rubbing against his folded index finger in hopes of calming down his nerves.

You pressed a palm against his forehead before flipping back his fringe towards his head, revealing his tattoo. You dabbed the towel softly against his skin, wiping in between. “Your hair’s getting a little long, huh?”

“Should I cut it?” Gaara asked.

“Well, that is up to you to decide. I think you look handsome either way.” You pinched his cheek teasingly before wetting the towel once again. Gaara couldn’t help how racy his heart was at this moment; he was still not used to positive affirmations.

“Close your eyes.” You whispered under your breath. You folded the bath towel around your index and middle finger, as your grip on his thigh got a little tighter as you continued to inch closer towards him. You started around the area surrounding his eyes. “I really think you have gorgeous eyes.”

Gaara, despite being a nervous wreck that he was, found humor in what you just said; as a gentle, chortle of laughter left his mouth. “I have… what…”

“You don’t agree?” You pouted.

Gaara sensed a hint of sadness in your voice, and he could imagine you pouting right at that very second. “It’s just… it’s the first time I have received such compliment. It surprised me, my love.”

“Hmm… well, I think it really strikes a very interesting contrast, you know?” You mumbled, telling him that he can open his eyes now. You smiled even more as you saw the literal proof of your statement just now. “It might sound odd to you, but I think your eyebags bring out your pale, seafoam eyes better. You have such unique-colored eyes.” You smiled genuinely at him.  Gaara tried to avert his eyes from the eye contact you were now trying to initiate, but you wanted him to know this wasn’t small talk; you were genuine about it, every bit of it. “Gaara?”

“…Yes?” Gaara flinched a little when you held him by the side of his cheek as you ushered him to face you once again.

“You’re beautiful.” You whispered quietly as your face started to inch itself closer to his. Gaara shut his eyes closed in response, a soft sigh staying behind his nervously, zipped-tight lips when he felt the softness of your slight pucker against him. “You are so beautiful to me, Gaara.” You grinned against his lips before pressing a lingering peck once again. When you pulled back from the kiss, Gaara’s eyes barely fluttered open; with the evident blush staining his cheeks red. He was rendered speechless of it all, and you were nothing but understanding of it. You grabbed the folded, black shirt behind your back that you’ve fished out from the closet. Gaara was still not speaking, but he nodded in agreement when you told him that you were gonna put his shirt on for him.

“Thank you…” Gaara mumbled under his breath.

“You’re welcome.” You grinned brightly at him before standing up to place the basin at the corner of the room, telling Gaara along the lines of emptying it out tomorrow morning. “Oh, you go change into your pajamas now. I’ll stand here for a bit until you’re done, okay?”

Gaara didn’t answer, but you heard him shift from behind your back. You hummed a tune to yourself as you allowed him to finish getting dressed, adjusting your shirt and shorts as well so that you can now go back to sleep afterwards. When you heard a soft signal from Gaara telling you that he was done, you couldn’t help but giggle at how cute he looked like; all tucked up on his side of the bed. A few minutes after you settled yourself underneath the blanket as well, you decided to change your mind, as you opted to sit instead; with your back pressing against the headboard. You couldn’t help but notice how awfully quiet Gaara was, lying on his side and facing away from you; not moving at all, but his way of breathing tattle-taled that he was still awake.

“Gaara?”

“Hmm?”

“We can cuddle, if you’d like…”

“…”

Gaara shifted in his position, the rustling fabric ringing to your ears as he rotated himself to turn towards you. He propped his palm against the mattress before situating himself closer towards you, earning a surprised reaction from you with his choice of position; before having it transition into a soft, endearing smile.

His cheek was currently resting above your lap, the back of his head pressing against your stomach. He laid on his side, his knees folded so that his legs weren’t going to dangle down the edge of the bed. Gaara felt a little stiff and awkward as he still wasn’t entirely used to being this close and affectionate under his very own initiative - but a part of him… a part of him wanted to reach out towards you at the moment.

He yearned to feel your warmth against him tonight.

Gaara sighed, his thoughts mixing in with the undecisiveness of what kind of words should leave his mouth right now, in contrast to the other side of him wanting to open up, because the last thing he wanted was to get you worried over him. You caught up to his internal plight, his eyes fluttering open gently to meet yours as you combed your fingerpads through his hair, softly cooing to him that he didn’t have to talk about it if he didn’t want to.

Truth be told, the obvious lack of communication skills on his behalf paved way towards difficulties; it had been a root to some of the problems you two have encountered during the earlier onset of your relationship. Of course, you weren’t devoid of the responsibilities over the dilemmas as well, and you are very much aware of that. The innate awareness itself, and the perseverance to let each other know which issues that you two have that render setbacks on the relationship is what made your connection be continuously resilient. On your behalf, you finally understood that you should not take personal offense over his predisposition to stay silent; as it was already an internal struggle that he himself acknowledges, and tries his best to overcome in order to be a better partner for you.

With his heart touched over your reassuring gesture, Gaara reached out for your other hand, which was currently resting above his hip, and held it in front of his face, eyeing it lovingly while he fiddled with your digits, as if he wanted to feel every bleed of comforting warmth that poured out from your skin. Gaara pressed the back of your hand against his lips, giving it a gentle kiss before placing it above his cheek, as his thumb continued to press and massage against your palm to return the favor. “Would it be a bother if I were to ask you to your read your book to me, my love?”

A slight surprise graced your face, as this was the first time Gaara had requested something like that. “Of course not, Gaara.” You smiled softly at him. “Would you like me to get something that you like? Do you have anything in mind?”

“You don’t have to,�� Gaara trailed off, followed by a soft, fleeting whisper,  “I just want to hear your voice…”

Your chest fluttered at what you heard, and you could almost feel your stomach dropping in an unfathomable happiness. You reached for the book beside the lamp on your nightstand, opening it on a certain page you were reading into earlier. You cleared your throat, a little nervous, yet also wanting to give it your best shot. Gaara’s eyes were closed once again, a hint of anticipation gracing his peaceful face. “Rest for the meantime, okay?”

And with a slight nod from Gaara, you started to read to him.

"You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you−− the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.”

And he went back to meet the fox.

"Goodbye," he said.

"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."

"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."

"It is the time I have wasted for my rose−−" said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.

"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose..."

"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

“You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.” You repeated with a soft smile, your eyes sneaking down a glance at Gaara through the slight gap between the bottom edge of the book and your chest; his fiery, red locks reminding you of the said vibrantly-colored flower in the story. “I am responsible for my rose.”

Before you spoke another line once again, Gaara pressed his palm against the spine of the book, hooking his index and middle finger in between the partition of the pages and pulling it softly away from you. He placed the book on the side before sitting up, the faint sigh that left his mouth fanning air against your lips.

Gaara wanted to thank you, but the shock barred himself to speak even a single syllable right at that moment. He had underestimated how close his face would be, and the short space in betweeen the two of you had robbed him off of his capacity to speak as his eyes unconsciously glanced down at your lips.

He wanted to kiss you.

He wanted to kiss you so much.

…But, he stood frozen before you, his stomach and chest tightening beyond belief as he couldn’t move even an inch to close the gap that was preventing him from feeling your lips against him. He just continued to stare, taking in every line, corner and curve of your soft, glistening pout. Gaara felt his breathing gradually quicken, as he found himself leaning closer and closer to your equally, blushing face.

“Can I kiss you?” Gaara whispered under his breath, his deep, husky voice sending shivers down your spine. “Can I kiss you, my love?” Gaara nudged his face forward towards you, basking in the emanating warmth from your face.

You nodded at him, your heart racing uncontrollably beneath your chest. “You can kiss me, Gaara.”

Gaara pulled back his face away from you, his almost shaking hand holding you by the side of your cheek, a thumb sneaking in soft strokes against your lower lip. His heart fluttered at how supple it was to the touch. He closed his eyes before leaning in towards you once again, that being the last sight before you shut your eyes in return. It wasn’t too long until you felt his lips brush gently against yours; a little hesitant, yet the intimacy of it igniting his urge to feel more. Gaara inched his lips forward with a deeper pressure; as your tender pout continued to bathe his body in a calming sense of warm solace that he couldn’t get enough of.

When he pulled back from the kiss, he immediately dove his face towards the crook of your neck, his arms sliding down on both sides of your body before wrapping them around your waist; ushering you closer for a hug. His breathing was rather erratic, slow and deep. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your hand sneaking in a soft, rub across his scalp to ease him down. “Do you want to get some sleep now, love?”

Gaara hummed vaguely in response, his tone lingering with a hint of not wanting to let go of you just yet, coinciding perfectly with the fact that he just hugged you closer towards him.

“…”

“Do you want to kiss me again?”

Gaara buried his face deeper against your warm skin.

“Yes…”

You relaxed your shoulders against the headboard, your breathing almost hitching in anticipation as Gaara pulled his face back from the curve of your neck. His eyes fell down to the side, and just before you thought he was now going to lean forward for an another kiss, Gaara nuzzled his face towards your neck once again, his hug getting a little more tighter this time.

Gaara swallowed the lump in his throat, the beat of his heart getting tighter and deeper, like he could almost feel his chest sink as every pulse got heavier and heavier. He wanted to confess that his nervousness had skyrocketed beyond reach; and he wasn’t sure he could initiate another kiss once more with his weakening resolve. His jittering nerves were getting the best of him, making him mumble soft apologies against your skin as he cuddled closer towards you.

“I can kiss you, instead… if you want to.” You whispered to his ear.

Gaara faced you once again, his eyes glassy and heavy with anticipation.

“D- do you know how to kiss,” You scratched your index finger against your cheek embarrassingly before trying to meet his nervous gaze once again. “with our mouths open? Y- you know, using our… tongue.” The last word seemed to evaporate into thin air, as Gaara’s blush grew a deeper hue. “Don’t worry,” You chuckled nervously as you tried to comfort him. “I- It’s not like I’m an expert on that or anything. I have just… read about it,” You cleared your throat. “from the books I have.”

“I’m sorry… My lack of experience…” Gaara closed his eyes with a sigh.

“Hey,” You placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “like I said, I have only read about it. I don’t know how it’ll actually be like in real life, or something…”

“You can… you can practice on me, if you’d like.”

You shot Gaara a surprised look in response to his newfound tone of voice. Despite being a flustered mess of pink and red, there was an evident determination in his face. “I want to learn about it, and I want to be able to… please you. So… if you may, as long as you’re comfortable… let me be your guest.”

You nodded at Gaara, “…Uhm, can I sit on your lap?” You mumbled softly.

With an anxious swallow and a shaky nod, Gaara piled three pillows against the headboard before laying on his back comfortably beside you. You thanked him under your breath before letting a sharp sigh of self-encouragement rip from your chest. Gaara couldn’t help but mentally curse inwardly to himself when he felt your supple body press down on him.

“Nervous?” You giggled, both asking Gaara and yourself to ease the tension just a little bit. “Our first makeout session, huh?”

Gaara gasped when you shifted your position, as inching closer towards him paved way for your crotch to grind briefly against his. He clenched his fists tight in hopes of not getting a hard on and making you uncomfortable.

“I’ll start now.”

You placed both of your hands on both sides of his cheek, giving him a soft, endearing smile of encouragement as you dove your face slowly towards him. Both of your eyes weren’t entirely closed; just enough for it to have a small peek of where both of your lips would land on. You pressed a teasing kiss upon his upper lip; pulling back a bit before brushing another peck against his lower lip this time. With a smile, you planted a full kiss on his soft pout; the pressure gradually increasing as Gaara tried his best to respond bit by bit.

“Open your mouth,” You whispered under your breath. Gaara swallowed nervously before allowing a slight gap part his lips in between. “if it feels too weird, just tell me, okay?”

“Mhm..” Gaara answered.

With your drooping eyes trained on his pucker, you inched your face forward, slowly sneaking in your tongue inside his wet cavern, eliciting a soft whimper from your lover. You ushered your body forward, as you leaned in for a deeper kiss; the teasing exploration of your tongue inside Gaara’s mouth not getting intense any time soon with how tensed he was beneath you.

You pulled back from the kiss with a soft grin on your face.

“So…” You asked shyly, “I- I guess that’s how it goes?”

Gaara hummed in thought, brushing his forearm against face as he was still processing what just happened.

There was rather an awkward silence brewing between the two of you, as Gaara’s gaze was fixed on everything but towards you. He couldn’t help it, his heart felt like it was going to somersault out of his ribcage at that very moment, and the fact that you were so close to him for the very first time was just adding fuel to the fire.

“We should get some rest,” You cooed. “There’s no rush about this, alright?”

“N- no, I-“ Gaara cleared his throat immediately, as his immediate disagreement made him blush even harder. “I can still manage, Y/N.”

“Are you sure?”

Gaara nodded in response.

With a soft smile, you ushered your face closer again, your heart beating faster and faster as you got closer to his haze-lost face. Gaara was surprised when you landed your lips upon the corner of his mouth, his confusion spiralling tighter when you started peppering pecking kisses across his cheeks. “Making out isn’t really just about open-mouthed kisses.” You whispered in between, as your other hand went to stroke the other side of his face adoringly. “There are other sensitive spots in our bodies that we can… please, like… here…” You kissed the spot below his ear, tracing the outer shell of it with slow, teasing kisses; enveloping Gaara in a shudder; which was suddenly reciprocated by your own body in return when you felt his hand travel down your spine as he loosely gripped you in place by your waist. You mapped a trail of kisses downwards once again, his grasp getting briefly tighter as your lips got lower and lower down his neck. You halted for a minute, the sensation he’s been feeling not stopping even for a bit as he still felt stimulated by your hot breathe tickling the skin of his neck. “Can I suckle on your neck?”

Gaara’s face had never felt so hot, the heat was nothing in comparison to even the hottest rays under the sun in Suna that has been reflecting over his face for years.

“Yes...” Gaara mumbled as he pressed his face against the plane of your shoulder.

You brushed a gentle pucker against your chosen spot, peppering it with endearing reassurance. Gaara shuddered once more when he felt your hand ran upwards his spine; a barely audible gasp leaking past his mouth as he felt your fingertips rake through the base of his scalp, your fingers slowly threading through his locks as you tilted his face sidewards with a soft grip. With a whispered warning, you took in the skin of his neck into your mouth, suckling on it softly and kissing it in between before sucking it once again a little harder with every try.

“Ahh, Y/N…”

…

Your heart felt like it missed a beat.

“Did I hear that right?” You whispered breathily to his ear. “Was that a moan?”

Gaara nodded bashfully in response.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes…” Gaara mumbled under his breath. “Y- you’re so… good at this.”

“It doesn’t stop here just yet.” There was a faint smirk on your face. “There’s so much more you’ve yet to see,” You could feel Gaara’s labored breathing against you, his breathing hitching for worse when you brushed your crotch against his on purpose. “so much more you’ve yet to feel…”

“Y/N…”

“You can touch me too, if you like…” You mumbled suggestively, as you placed your hand on top of his hand that was resting upon your waist, giving it a soft brush of contact before dragging it under your shirt, the warm skin contact of his palm brushing against your bare skin making you bite your lip subtly in response.

You pulled back your face from the curve of his neck, initiating an effort to meet his shaky gaze once again. “Do you want to see me, Gaara?”

And with a nervous nod from your lover, you pulled your shirt over your head.

You reached for the clasp behind your back, unclasping it rather a little shakily as you were also nervous as well. You were kind of thankful that Gaara wasn’t there to notice how long you have been taking off the damned fabric off of you, as he was enveloped in a bashful shell of himself; with his eyes drifting towards the side out of respect.

With a satisfied sigh, you quickly placed your forearm below your chest in support before tossing the bra to the side.

“Y- you can look now…”

Gaara felt like the air he was barely breathing in was now taken away from him completely.

You quickly grabbed the discarded shirt, covering yourself in a frazzled mumble of words.

He was quiet, he was too quiet; his rapid breathing was the only response you were hearing from him and you would be lying if you said that the lack of verbal reaffirmations from him didn’t affect you at all. When Gaara caught up with how he might have made you feel, he quickly snapped back to his senses. Through his crippling bashfulness, he managed to look directly into your eyes.

…And with an adoring smile, Gaara spoke once again.

“You look so beautiful, my love.”

Gaara might be beyond a nervous wreck at this point, but so were you. He couldn’t help but coo soft apologies in reference to this thought, as he felt like all he did was sit back and let you do the work. You reassured him that it wasn’t anything like that, that it’s only natural to be high-strung at that moment since both of you had not done this before.

“Please,” Gaara said, although his voice was soft and endearing, you could still tell the deep-seated determination behind it. “if you’re comfortable with it… please, tell me how I could make you feel good.”

You tossed the shirt to the side once again.

“W- wait, let me… let me reposition myself a little bit, my love.” Gaara mumbled, as the squeeze of his hand placed on your waist got a little firmer in response to the movement. He straightened his back once more, allowing him to have a better posture; with a nod, you started to search for his other hand.

You guided his tad bit shaky hand towards your left breast, a soft sigh exiting your mouth as you felt the warm contact of his palm upon your nakedness. You tried to meet Gaara’s eyes, but a nervous tick sent him down staring intently down his directed hand as the brief eye contact with your heavy-lidded eyes sent shivers down his spine.

“Feel the weight of it first,” You mumbled. “Start slowly, allow your… fingers to wrap around the roundness of it…”

Gaara nodded studiously as he took mental notes deep into his brain. He was starting to get more comfortable around it, as the urge to please you was starting to get ahead of his tensing nerves.

“That’s it… Gradually increase the firmness of your grasp… Ahh.” You moaned softly under your breath, as Gaara’s firmer ministrations started to send jolts of pleasure down the rest of your body. Gaara felt like his breathing halted momentarily, but he knew better this time. You were now starting to feel good under his touch, and he would stop at nothing to ensure he wouldn’t keep you away from feeling that way.

“T- Touch my other breast too…”

With a swallow, Gaara followed through, repeating exactly what he had learned previously.

You tried your best to tone down your voice, but another pleasure-soaked moan ripped from your heaving chest as Gaara continued to play through his ministrations. He watched you in awe, as you stared lustfully down at your breast being toyed with by his very own hands. You knew he was starting to feel good as well, as you started to feel his protuding erection across your clothed slit.

“Wet your thumb with your tongue, Gaara.” The way you moaned his name at the very end of your sentence made him curse inwardly to himself. Gaara extended the tip of his tongue, licking the pad of his thumb diligently until it was appropriately wet. You propped your palms behind your back, placing them above Gaara knees as you arched back a little, allowing him to have a fuller view of your naked, upper body.

A budding, lustful sigh leaked past Gaara’s lips. Somehow, he did have a vague idea in regards to what was going to follow past your previous instruction, so out of instinct, Gaara rested his palm upon the side of your breast, and with a swift motion, Gaara brushed his lubricated thumb against your nipple, eliciting a sweeter moan from you.

“Not only a fast learner; you’re also quite the intuitive one, are you?” You mumbled with a smirk.

Gaara smirked back briefly, before wetting his other thumb to reflect the exact ministration on your other breast.

“Ohh, Gaara.”

Gaara flicked both of his thumbs teasingly, side to side, upon your now stiffening nub. Not depending entirely on your instruction alone anymore, Gaara went through his instinct as he rubbed the pads of his thumb in circular motions against your nipples; dragging out a drawn out, blissful mewl of his name from your lips as you started to unconsciously dig your nails against the skin of his thighs.

“Gaara, that feels so-“

Gaara’s hands went down your waist and without any foreword, he yanked you closer towards him, earning a surprised yelp from you.

“Can… can I put it in my mouth?” Gaara breathed heavily beneath you, his eyes glassy with impending lust. You raked your fingernails softly across both sides of his head, planting shivers all over his body at how stimulating it felt like for his hair to be played with like that.

“I’d love that…”

With a slight, nervous sigh, Gaara stared at your nub, a hint of curiosity pooling on his seafoam eyes. Gaara pressed a soft kiss on your left breast, his lips tiptoeing towards the other one as he kissed it just as endearingly. “You’re so… perfect, Y/N.”

Your chest and your stomach fluttered at his whispered compliments, as he continued to admire every bit of your nakedness.

“You look so beautiful, my love…”

You pressed a soft kiss against his head, as his utmost adoration continued to weaken every fiber of composure within your body… and after the lingering stare between the two of you, Gaara tightened his grip on your waist before parting his wet mouth; enveloping your nipple lovingly into his wet cavern.

Gaara shifted in his position, straightening his back better against the cushion of the pillow as the way he folded his knees towards his body elevated you a little, allowing you to tower over him even more. Gaara took back his mouth only to dive his face forward to your other teat, moaning adoringly against your naked nipple. Gaara used his forefinger and his thumb to stimulate your other nub in circles, eliciting strings of mewls from your mouth as you continued to moan his name selfishly.

“That’s so good, that feels so good,” You groaned above him, a blissful sight of you being thoroughly watched by Gaara as he shot his gaze towards your mewling stance.

Sneaking past your rational thoughts, your hips began to grind itself against his body on its own, as the pleasure of getting your tits suckled and toyed with by your eager lover’s mouth continued to stir your lust for worse. You pulled on Gaara’s hair, tilting his face upwards to face you, and with a swift motion, you initiated an open-mouthed kisses against his soft pout; your body feeling like you’re being enveloped in a feverish sensation as you continued to swirl his tongue around his mouth. “Touch me down there too…” You whispered in between your sloppy kisses as you redirected both of Gaara’s hand to fumble down your lower back, before shoving it under your shorts. The fabric was loose enough to give Gaara an ample room to massage and squeeze your backside, with the relaxing gesture passing a pleasured moan from your mouth to his. Gaara rubbed his palms across the roundness of your ass in circles before giving it a firm squeeze. The way he was touching you at the moment almost overwhelmed him to a certain point.

You shoved Gaara deeper into the pillow fort behind his back, lapping your tongue inside his mouth, eagerly intertwining it with his own; which was guided by his slight nervous attempt to kiss you back just as passionately. You smiled against Gaara, encouraging him with your soft whispers of approval in between your kisses, making his stomach flutter in a mix of slowly diminishing self-consciousness and the brewing desire to please you more.

You pressed your lips harder against him, deepening your sloppy kiss as you raked your nails through his messy, red hair; making Gaara shudder against you. You pressed your body closer against him, pinning and pinning him deeper into headboard. Dragging your lips past the corner of his lips, you planted pecking kisses towards his ear. “I’d like to… try something.” You whispered breathily, the hot air sending shivers down his spine.  

“W- what do you have in mind, my love?” Gaara asked back breathily.

“You need… stimulation down there as well, right?”

Gaara swallowed the lump in his throat with a slight, wide pair of eyes; processing exactly what you were trying to insinuate.

“I want to make you feel good too, Gaara.” You mumbled blushingly. With a coy smile, you started to grind your clothed slit across Gaara’s stiffened arousal; and the way it got harder and harder with every thrust almost sent you towards the edge.

“Do you want me to touch you down there, love?”

Gaara, although a little hesitant due to his embarrassment, nodded through his bashful stance; as he would be lying if he said that the way his cock throbbed harder beneath you wasn’t starting to feel a little touch-starved.

Gaara left a final, parting squeeze on your backside before allowing you to shift your position; as you were now sitting beside him, your palm propped upon his other thigh to support your composure. “Can I?”

Gaara nodded again with a soft agreement leaving his mouth. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of pajamas before peeling it off of him completely, leaving him in nothing but a new, dark gray boxer shorts. Despite being the one who’s pulling the reins at the moment, you were indeed just as anxious as your lover; as both of you tiptoed towards your very first sexual interaction with one another. Nevertheless, the trust that both of you had for each other made it easier to settle in comfortably under one’s touch, and as foreign as it may be, it still felt like there was a strong, innate connection that bounded you and Gaara together; an undeniable bond that envelops you and your lover in a sense of solace despite showing each other’s naked vulnerabilities.

Everything just feels like… it was meant to happen.

With Gaara’s notice, you slowly undressed him from the lone, remaining fabric that was covering his body; making you flinch in surprise when his aroused cock snapped against the spot just below his clothed navel. You couldn’t help but swallow in anticipation. You left his boxer shorts just above his knees; so that if ever he feels the need to cover himself up, he’d have no trouble looking for his clothing. Gaara couldn’t help but smile to himself warmly with your caring gesture.

You rested your palm upon it, making you gasp slightly with the contact. “Wow, it’s… hot. I mean, it’s hot to the touch... I- It’s so warm?” You stuttered confusingly.

“Y- yes… it really is like that.” Gaara stuttered back nervously with a pleasured sigh, as you used the area between your thumb and index finger to rub against his throbbing cock, the silhouette of his hardness pressing a defined outline against the skin of his lower abdomen igniting a fire of arousal in his body as he was continuously reminded of how rigid his dick was under your touch.

“Oh? It’s wet up here…” You mumbled curiously as you brushed your thumb against the tip of his cock, making Gaara moan softly as you rubbed the pad of your finger against it in circles.

“Ahh… i- it happens… when I am aroused.”

Truth be told, the way you were looking at his cock with wonder in your eyes made his cock even harder. How you looked nervous and in awe at the same time as you took in the sight of his stiffened cock made him choke on his own breath.

“Do you play with yourself?”

Gaara’s breathing hitched after hearing your question, seemingly not knowing exactly how to answer it as his shock sent his brain into a haywire. A minute or two later, he seemed to retrieve back a sense of himself, as he was now trying to conjure up an answer to satiate your curiosity.

“Before I met you… I only saw it as a way of releasing… pent up stress. B- but when I got to know you, and my affections for you started to develop more and more, I…” Gaara sighed, as his nerves started to shake him up once again. Deep inside, a possible answer did plague him as to why sharing his deepest thoughts felt so difficult; maybe it was related to the fact that he doesn’t talk about himself as much as other people tend to do. He appreciates hearing other people’s thoughts and feelings, and finds comfort that they trust him to tell him those kind of things, but for him to open up himself was still a little off to him.

It was different with you. Other people would just go off and respect Gaara’s wishes not to talk about himself, and proceed to an almost one-sided conversation with Gaara just nodding in response. You always asked him, you always wanted to know more about him, but in a way that was not laced with any ounce of condescending pressure at all. Your words were calculated enough to encourage him, not to force him. He found comfort in the slight taste of curiosity that you offered to him, and in a way, it had made him much more open in regards to his thoughts and feelings.

Despite of being a nervous wreck at the moment, and as much as how embarrassed he was to admit it to himself, Gaara wanted to continue the conversation. A part of him wanted to selfishly indulge in it. He just needed a little breathing in between to get through it.

“I found myself… thinking about you. T-  thinking a lot about you, actually…” Gaara’s heavy-lidded gaze landed upon his cock being stroked softly against his abdomen, and the way you looked so encouragingly gentle on the contrary of literally playing with his cock at the moment was almost a complex combination of funny yet sexy in his view. “We were still friends at that time, and I… I actually felt guilty about it… because I was starting to have inappropriate thoughts about you, and I just… Y/N…” Gaara moaned your name, no longer able to continue, as the way you were stimulating him at that moment and the added effort of opening up for someone as private as him rendered him speechless.

“Just sit back and relax, love.” You cooed, as you wrapped a full fist around his pulsing dick, pumping your fist up and down as you found yourself leaning your face closer and closer towards it, taking in the sight of the muscle throbbing within the hollow of your fist.

“Gaara?”

“Y- yes?”

“Do you know oral sex?”

Gaara’s eyes were wide in surprise as soon as he heard what seems to be a potential proposition you could be speaking of minutes later. A thought so alienatingly foreign, yet somehow, he had already envisioned you doing it while he jerked off his cock deep into the sleepless night of having nothing but fervent, erotic thoughts about you.

Oral sex, huh?

He had read about it, probably twenty pages into that green book that the sixth Hokage himself; Hatake, Kakashi, gave him during his diplomatic visit in Sunagakure before opening his cabinet and shoving it inside out of panic.

…But through his jittering nerves, he did pick up the book from the shelf to take it home, and the provocative imagery that the book embedded into his innocent mind as he took in sentences of nothing but pure, lustful sex, did make his trousers tight in response.

The deeper he got into the book, the more he didn’t realize that he was already stroking his cock while he laid back on the comfort of his couch, legs spread open, back pressed against the cushion sluggishly as he continued to pump his fist slowly up and down his throbbing dick, moaning your name in between the wet, skin slapping noises that ripped through the silence of his house.

In his mind, you were enthusiastically bobbing your head up and down in between his thighs.

“I am… I am aware of it.”

You gulped in response, as the sight of the tip of his cock starting to glisten more with the erupting lust from his cock ignited a hunger inside you, and with letting your instincts tore through, you wrapped your other fist in his cock, before taking in the one where your thumb is wet his pre-cum, and putting it in your mouth to taste.

“Shit.” Gaara shut his eyes closed in an exasperated arousal.

“Do you want to know how it feels?” You whispered seductively, as you placed your dominant hand once again to pump his cock up and down.

“A- are you comfortable with it?” Gaara asked with concern despite the lustful haze he was starting to get lost in.

“I am,” A small smirk made its way on your lips. “I want to… I want to wrap my mouth around it.”

“Around… what?” Gaara asked, eliciting a surprised reaction not only from you, but from himself as well.

“Around your huge, throbbing cock.” You teased, earning another yet breathy cuss from Gaara.

Just before you were about to take his throbbing member into your mouth, Gaara whispered your name softly to tug on your attention, and you were met by the utter gentleness in his eyes. Gaara tucked a stray hair behind your ear, before allowing his thumb to brush across your cheek. “You don’t have to do it… if you don’t want to… okay? You’re the one who gets to decide what you want to do, my love… You can stop anytime you want to, do not mind me at all.”

Your chest fluttered at his caring reminder. “Thank you, Gaara…” You leaned towards him, as you pressed another peck of kiss upon his lips. “Don’t forget about yourself too, alright? If you want me to stop, tell me right away, okay?”

Gaara nodded with a smile as he thanked you back softly in return. After telling him to lay down and relax, you started to trace a trail of downward kisses from his jaw, and down his sensitive neck. You peppered the plane of his collarbone with gentle pecks in between telling him how perfect he was. Gaara’s flushed face was angled towards the ceiling, his breathing a little loud and laboured as he tried to meet your gaze after telling him to look at you. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, love. Every inch of you is more than perfect to me.”

“Y/N…” A shocked, breathy gasp escaped his lips when you flicked the side of your index finger against his nipple.

“Too ticklish?” You asked gently, getting an embarrassed nod from Gaara as he tried to cover half of his face with his forearm. “That’ll be reserved for next time…” You mumbled with a smirk, making Gaara shudder as his thoughts began to run wild.

“I- I didn’t say I didn’t like it… I was just-“ Gaara parted his thighs apart, the ample space it resulted to allowing you to rest down on your breasts and stomach comfortably.  I- uhm, is your position comfortable? Don’t hesitate to tell me if you need a pillow, or if you want me to… uh change my position...” He mumbled caringly. You nodded at him, reassuring your anxious lover that everything’s fine at the moment, there was no need to worry.

“Ready?” You asked with a slight, coy smile on your face, as you eyed the sopping wet tip of his cock while you sluggishly pumped your fist up and down his shaft. With a breathy moan alongside a nod from Gaara, you started to get down on your business.

You extended the tip of your tongue, pressing it flat against the underside; dragging your tongue back and forth before encircling it around the circumference of his pink, sensitive tip. Your fist remained as a slight grip around the base of his cock, with your index finger and thumb wrapping a loose, jerking off motion so that he doesn’t get too overwhelmed right away. As the encircling stimulation of your tongue got lower and lower, that was when you decided to take in the whole, pulsing tip into your wet mouth; earning another breathy gasp of your name from Gaara.

You allowed the soft, innerside of your pout to envelop the tip in a gradually tightening massage, sneaking your tongue in between the slight, back and forth motions of your head. Your attention was caught by the sound of rustling fabric, with your eyes falling down on to the side; only to see Gaara’s knuckles turning white as he placed a tight grip on the sheets in response to the bliss you were serving him. With the free hand that was resting above his thigh at the moment, you reached for his hand, brushing your palm above the back of it before intertwining your fingers in between his digits, pulling it over to rest it above his thighs as you placed your palm flat down above it.

His lower lip gradually dropped down in anticipation, as he locked his eyes upon the sight of your face, slowly taking in his arousal deep into your wet mouth. He gasped even louder when you didn’t bother stopping midway, as you went on to take whole length of his cock deeper and deeper into you, only halting when a loud, gagging sound ripped through the dead silence of the bedroom. You allowed yourself to choke around his dick once, twice, before releasing it with a lustful pop right before Gaara’s eyes, the teasing hint of euphoria of your airway being cut off making you mewl his name dirtily as you tried your best to chase your breath. Gaara’s whole body bathed itself in prortruding goosebumps, a reaction you saw yourself after seeing his thighs covered with the said bodily reaction.

Just before Gaara gets to speak a query of concern, you fixed your hair out of the way before diving his cock right into your mouth once again; as you have now decided to put an end in your teasing touch. You gripped the tip of his cock around the inner swell of your pout in place as you pumped your fist up and down the body of his dick; allowing your face to gradually dip downwards, your mouth slowly taking in more areas to suck and lick on while the rest of what’s yet to follow was still stimulated by the hollow of your fist.

“Y/N… w-what are you doing… ahh…” Gaara moaned helplessly before you as the increasing bliss continued to send jolts of euphoria down the rest of his body. “That feels… so good…” He felt so embarrassed to be mewling like this, but what you were doing with him at the moment, toying on his cock expertly just had him crumbling apart desperately under your touch. Gaara hastily sat up from having his back leaning against the pillows, with his palms now propped flat against the mattress on opposites sides of his body in hopes of supporting his diminishing composure. He shut his eyes closed, but a part of him wanted to take a peek on the real life counterpart itself of what he has been lewdly jerking off to for months. There were so many aspects of such acts that no amount of heavily-vivid imagination could ever come close, details that he took in carefully and mindfully.

Apart from the mind-wrecking sensation itself of having his cock be sucked off by his beloved, the consorting sounds it bears alongside with aroused him beyond anything. The way you breathed out helplessly as you release his cock with a pop, looking up to him with gently-innocent, yet ironically lustful eyes as if you were silently asking for further reaffirmation to settle down that you were making him feel good just drives him towards the edge. The sound of spit, rub, slurp and choke; the raw sound of wet-slapping skin as you jerked his rock hard cock before your flushed, glistening face, only to swallow his dick whole once again robbed him off of the capacity to communicate.

“I don’t think I-“ An uncontrolled moan interjected at his crippling ability to speak, as the established pace of your head bobbing up and down his sopping wet member started to tighten his lower abdomen in a familiar, addicting sensation. This was it, this was the feeling that he finds himself losing even the slightest ounce of rational thought. He folded up his thigh while the other remain rested upon the mattress. You frantically searched for his hand, placing it above your head and instructing him to lock his fingers in your hair. Gaara didn’t want to inflict pain on you, so he wrapped a loose fist of your locks, his fingerpads sneaking in to rub against your scalp in hopes of returning the smallest amount of favor in contrast to what you were doing with his cock at the moment.

He finds himself shuddering even more, as the wet, gulping sounds of your mouth coming down on his dick up and down continued to get louder and desperate with every down and upwards thrust. With a nervous swallow, Gaara tried to look down at you; and a barely audible cuss left his salivating mouth.

The increasing knot of impending orgasm in Gaara’s lower abdomen started to get tighter and tighter; his body jerking out of shock when you slyly brushed a thumb across his nipple once again. You stared at him back, giving him a sly wink before focusing on the task at hand once again. As you felt your jaw starting to get sore, you pulled his cock out of your mouth; jerking him off with your now, sloppy wet fist as you pressed his now overly sensitive tip against your tongue. Gaara’s chest was now heaving up and down desperately, his face angled towards the ceiling as his mouth gaped in utter, pure bliss. He looked back at you once again, and despite his blurring, lusftul gaze being blocked by strays of his messy, red hair, he saw how you arched your back, with your body now bending over erotically before his feasting eyes; and before any word of warning could have ever leave his panting mouth, you felt the tip of his cock pulse uncontrollably against your wet tongue; only to be followed by streaks of hot, thick cum jolting out of his convulsing arousal.

Your eyes widened in shock, as you look up towards Gaara whose face was contorted in what seemed to be nothing but raw and primal look of euphoria upon his flushed, open-mouthed face; an interjecting moan of bliss ripped from his heaving, sweating chest as his body convulsed against you. Gaara tried to pull away out of embarrassment, and the said gesture had only resulted to his what remains of his cum being milked down by his drawn out throbbing orgasm to paint a streak across your cheek; making you widen your eyes even more as Gaara continued to cum all over your face and your hair. Out of an instinctive flight response, Gaara quickly grabbed the pillow behind him, covered his face with it, and slumped down his back on the mattress.

As surprised as you were; the blur of Gaara’s muffled curses and heavy breathing against the pillow started to ring clearer towards your ears; his bashful response making you chuckle in return. You squeezed yourself beside Gaara, sneaking your hand underneath the pillow he had been covering himself up before hugging him from his side; your thigh placed above his as you relaxed your face against the supple pillow. “Are you okay?”

“…”

Gaara couldn’t still bring himself to talk, but with a soft, “I’ll be back.” He placed the pillow gently beneath your thigh in replacement of his as he stood up from the bed, yanking his boxer shorts upwards before confusingly walking outside the room. You wanted to ask him if he was okay, but he was so panickingly quick that even before you get to a speak a single syllable, he has already bolted outside the door.

“So that’s what it tasted like…” You thought to yourself, as a feverish flush painted your cheeks warm; your stomach coiling bashfully as your buried your face deep into the pillow. You weren’t going to lie, giving Gaara his very first blowjob was something you have been thinking about before. The thought itself alone was fervently erotic, but the literal act itself that just took place earlier was beyond anything your mind could have ever muster. How he moaned your name breathily as you slurped his cock into your mouth sent you addiciting shivers down your spine.

You snaked a palm down your stomach, your curious fingers inching and inching closer towards your arousal; you sneaked your digits underneath the constricting fabric of your shorts and your underwear; and you cussed inwardly as your fingerpads were met by how sopping wet your slick was. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts before lifting your ass from the mattress and swiftly discarding the said article of clothing off of you and tossing it on the floor.

Fuck, sucking your lover’s cock was indeed arousing.

Just after cleaning your face off of Gaara’s cum with your discarded shirt, Gaara entered the bedroom once again, both his hands busy as he carried a glass of water and a dessert plate on the other hand… containing a slice of… cake?

Gaara awkwardly tiptoed his way towards the bed. He placed the glass and the plate on top of the nightstand, his gaze and smile endearing yet still so… shaky. A soft creak of the bed responded as he sat on the edge of the mattress, facing you directly while you were now leaning your back against the headboard, your upper naked body covered up by the soft, fluffy pillow. Gaara placed his palm on top of your hand that was resting on your lap, his thumb giving an encircling rub. "I… uhm… I got you something.” Gaara mumbled under his breath. “I- I know that the taste of semen isn’t entirely too pleasing as I have tasted mine b- before-“ He almost choked on the last word of his sentence as he realized what he just said, making him whisper an almost inaudible “what am I saying?” to himself as he rubbed both of palms against his cheeks out of frustration.

Choosing not to inquire further to spare him the additional embarrassment, you chuckled to yourself as you reached out for the glass of water, drinking it halfway through before returning it on top of the nightstand once again; letting a satisfied sigh rip from your chest after the chill rehydration. “Thank you so much, Gaara. This was very nice of you.”

You leaned your body towards the nightstand, allowing Gaara to see the naked, graceful curve of your back as you unintentionally bent over before him, as you only wanted to have a bite or two of the cake; the decadence yet the muted sweetness of it rolling nicely upon your tongue. You sliced the fork into the dessert, placing a cupping palm below it in case it falls as you shuffled your way through the bed; facing Gaara once again.

“Have a bite, too.” You smiled softly at him.

Gaara’s blush grew a deeper hue, his eyes falling down to the side as he opened his mouth slightly to take in the slice of cake into his mouth. He chewed slowly as you watched him curiously while you took another sip of water before handing it to him so he could cleanse his palate as well; earning a soft worded gratitude from him.

You folded your thighs towards your chest, leaning your chin down against your forearms that was resting above your knees as you continued to gaze at him, and Gaara couldn’t help but be even more fidgety under your stare. “Gaara?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

Gaara sighed before nodding slowly in response. “Yes… yes, I am. I’m really sorry… I’m just flustered.”

“Really? Why?” You inquired gently.

“It’s… it’s my first time. A- and I know that it’s your first time too… It’s just… it felt so good.” Gaara trailed off, as he gathered his scrambled thoughts with a sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m just worried that I’m going to end up doing something wrong, or in my case at the moment… I already did something wrong… I’m really sorry, my love.”

“Gaara…”

This time, you held his hand, tugging on his attention as his quivering stare tried to meet your eyes once again. Your eyes were full of warmth, a very inviting sense of care that he couldn’t help but be drawn to; and before he even realizes it, he has already pressed a soft kiss against your forehead. He closed his eyes, savoring the emotions he was bathing himself as he continued to display such adoring act that you utmostly deserved.  

“There’s nothing you should be saying sorry for.” You held his hand, brushing soft strokes against it before leaning your face closer to kiss it gently. “Also, please remember that we’re not in a hurry. We can always take our time.”

Gaara nodded with a sigh, his eyes expressing what seem to be a tad bit of loneliness and disappointment in himself.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You whispered carefully, following  up with another statement in order to reduce the pressure on your lover. “If you don’t want to, that would be fine as well… we can just cuddle and sleep. If you do need some space to think about it, I wouldn’t mind that, too. Anything you choose to do would be fine, okay? Anything, love.”

Gaara’s eyes softened, his heart and stomach warming and tightening up in a coil as he couldn’t help but feel so vulnerably comfortable with you.

Your eyes widened out of curiosity when you saw Gaara peel his shirt off of his body, only to put it over your head as he gently reached out for each of your hand to assist it towards the armholes of the clothing. “Thought you might start feeling cold…” Gaara mumbled with a soft smile on his face as he continued to gaze at you with a pair of adoring eyes.

“But now… you’ll feel cold.” You poked his naked, toned chest teasingly.

“Not entirely so.” Gaara chuckled. “Because I know you’ll be here all night to keep me warm.” He mumbled with a genuine smile on his face before reaching out for the blanket on the bedroom floor and covering himself from the back before tackling you down on the mattress playfully as both you giggled under the fabric.

“I’ll keep you warm for the rest of my life,” You whispered softly as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders before pressing a kiss on top of his head; his face nestled in between your now clothed breasts. Gaara eyes widened after hearing such words, and with the overpouring gentleness and warmth that you continue to generously offer to him, he couldn’t help but close his eyes to allow himself to bask it in; in ardent hopes that your affections was something he truly deserved. To be adored and cared for in ways that he had given up on a long time ago as means of atonement, he was still far from being forgiving of himself at the moment; but your adoring words, your caring gestures had allowed him to warm up to such idea bit by bit.

You made him feel that he was worth loving after all; and in a complex, innate response that he somehow ends up feeling; he begins to love himself a little more than he’s been robbing himself of for so long.

Every ounce of emotions that he has tried to repress for so long started to gush through his system; and it placed him in a spiralling haywire of everything else in a blur in exception of you.

You.

You…

“I love you.” He thought to himself as his hands started to travel underneath your shirt, his lips peppering soft, pecking kisses towards your neck as he mirrored it himself how you shuddered beneath him when you traced the length of his naked spine upwards to his nape with soft scratch of your nails. “I love you.” The words never left his mouth as he continued to spoke it inwardly, all alone in himself to hear such confessions, “I love you, Y/N. I love you so much it almost hurts to say it.”

With his eyes heavy and his breathing labored, Gaara brushed his lips teasingly against your wet pucker; taking his time slowly as traced the outline of your lower lip with pecking kisses. With a soft sigh, Gaara closed his eyes gently as he leaned his face forward. He suckled on your lower lip; and with a gentle bite that parted your mouth ever so slightly, Gaara inserted his tongue inside your mouth.

Oh, how he fought through his nerves.

Gaara placed his thumb and forefinger above your chin, his other hand resting above the side of your face. Gaara halted the kiss for a second, his heavy-lidded gaze taking in the sight of you before shoving himself towards you once again. You felt his thumb stroke your cheek softly as his middle and ring finger brushed gently against the skin of your ear; the endearing gesturing weakening your composure even more as you found yourself succumbing to his affectionate kiss. His tongue unraveled the depths of your mouth with a slow, loving pace; striking an interesting contrast, as despite his hunger for you, Gaara couldn’t help but still find himself savoring you as if he would never, ever run out of all the time in this world.

The longer his kiss dragged on, the more he realized that it was as if the gentle taste of your wet mouth imprinted a soul-numbing addiction into him. And if you were to directly ask Gaara about it, he knew damn well that beyond the red face and the shaky effort to avoid your penetrating gaze, he’s just too honest to deny that he’s beyond smitten at this point, and the lone thought that he only he could conjure right at this moment is you, and the fact that both of you were basically making out with each other inside his bedroom.

With a firm suck on your tongue, Gaara released you from his fervent, smothering kiss; a smile cracking on his lips as he pressed his forehead against you.

“Am I deemed to be lacking in your standards, or do I somehow… pass just enough?” Gaara chuckled.

“Don’t sell yourself too short now.” You giggled back, sneaking in a pinch on his cheek to tease him. “You’re an amazing kisser. You’re already beyond skilled, to be honest.”

“Really?” Gaara’s cheeks were now rose-colored in bashfulness, as your compliments never failed to make his heart race.

You nodded at him encouragingly, embedding a deeper smile on his lips.

“I love you.” You whispered lovingly to him.

Gaara shut his eyes closed as he felt his chest tightened.        

“Don’t say it again, not now; not yet.” He pleaded silently to himself.

It scares him.

It scares him so much at how weak feels like, at how needy he was of your love.

It scares him, it scares him so much.

“Please, not now.”

“I love you, Gaara,” You mumbled with the most endearing smile he had seen in the entirety of his life.

Gaara shut his eyes closed, squinting his lids tighter and tighter in hopes of cutting off the impending tears that was starting to swell in both corners of his eyes. His eyes were now glassy and heavy, as he started to smother needy, pecking kisses all over your face, down the path of your jaw; licking and suckling on the skin of your neck in shallow and deeper intervals; Gaara traced a linear path down the middle of your clothed breasts; the thin fabric of his shirt allowing a soft silhouette of your naked body underneath to show through.

Gaara threw the blanket off of his body before placing a loose grip on both sides of your hips, his thumbs sneaking a caressing touch on your skin as he began to plant kisses upon your clothed teat; the continuous surge of shudders painting the rest of your body as you arched your back a little with a soft moan when Gaara took in your fabric-covert nipple; suckling on it with a gradual increase of pressure; his face delayed yet in synonymous motion with how the tip of his tongue rolled over the nub in circles. He spat on the fabric, allowing you to feel the cold wetness of his saliva to peer through the threads. Gaara snaked his other hand upwards he placed a soft grasp above your other teat, flicking the side of his middle finger against the other nipple before wrapping it around with his index finger and thumb; encircling and tugging on it occasionally as your stiffened peak began to protrude through the fabric of his shirt.

As his hands went lower once again, hooking his thumb into the waistband of your underwear, he halted momentarily; before trying to meet your equally heavy-lidded gaze; “Can I?” He whispered ever so softly. You nodded in agreement; arching your back upwards as he began to pull away the sole, remaining fabric covering your bare body.

As bold as you may seem to be most of the time, having been seen naked by your lover for the first time had you conscious as well; as you tried to hide your worsening, flushed face underneath the cover of your forearms. As starstrucked as Gaara may be; he knew better now than to stay graveyard-silent this time; as worded expressions of adoration was something essential in establishing comfort during such acts of intimacy. With both hands, Gaara brushed his palms slowly underneath your thighs, stroking it upwards until he gripped you in place by the back of your knees. He pressed soft kisses against it, whispering stuttered, affirmations with a soft, breathy voice.

Gaara leaned downwards to brush a caressing touch against your jaw; smiling ever so gently at your adorable flusteredness. You felt him shuffle above you, and you flinched in surprise when you felt his hot breath fan against the side of your neck; as he was now laying on his side next to you.

“I figured… I should be closer towards you,” Gaara whispered into your ear. “So that you can tell me right away how you want my fingers to please you.” He mumbled breathily as he snaked his arm underneath the back of your head as means of support. “If you’ll allow me, please let me return the favor and make you feel good this time.”

You reached out for his hand that was resting above your thigh, placing it in between of your faces before giving it a soft kiss. You held his index and middle finger, a soft gasp escaping his lips as he watched you take his digits into your mouth; suckling on it with your eyes closed before fluttering them open once again, your eyes darting below you as you guided his hands towards the sopping arousal between your legs.

Gaara watched his guided digits carefully; as you parted his index and middle finger apart, before directing it to press softly up and down the outer lips of your lubricated slit. Gaara felt your arousal tense up slowly underneath his touch. You held his hand by the back of it before shyly commanding his fingers to brush briefly against the sopping center, allowing his fingerpads to trace a linear path upwards until it halted against your now, pulsing nub.

“T- that’s called the clitoris,” You mumbled shyly against him. “Penetrative foreplay such as fingering, or the penetrative act of sex itself,” You cleared your throat, “I- I guess it feels good… but the easiest way to make me cum is by rubbing my clit.” Your breathing went erratic when Gaara started to slowly rub against it under his own initiative. “It could be like… what I taught you earlier. Increase the pressure and pace gradually, do intervals with light and… ahh…” You clenched your thighs together slightly as Gaara’s skillful application of what he’s learning at the moment began to crumble you apart bit by bit. “a- and firm touches. The surrounding area might be less sensitive, but teasing in between would feel just as good,”

“Have you tried doing it on your own?” Gaara whispered, his voice sultry and deep.

“Y- yes…” You gasped softly under his touch.  “A lot…”

A grunt escaped his lips as his stomach coiled tight with the lewd imagery of you teasing your pussy with your own fingers.“C- can I kiss you?”

“Yes…” You moaned softly as he steadied his rounded, rubbing pace against your arousal, alternating between pressing up and down the sides before tracing the inner of your slick itself, only to massage your clit once again. “I- I would love that. You can also play with my breasts, if you’d like…”

Gaara shifted your body a little bit by snaking his forearm behind your upper back, propping his elbow against the mattress before elevating your body by your shoulders as you ended up inching your face closer towards his; with your panting breath now fanning directly across his lips. After a soft, fleeting kiss against your lips, Gaara whispered breathily into your ear, “Lift up your shirt for me, angel.”

You shuddered in response, biting your lips shyly as you hooked your index and middle finger into the hem of the shirt before pulling on it upwards, revealing your naked teats before his eyes. “Hold your breast closer to my mouth…” Gaara mumbled against your ear before leaning his face downwards, snuggling in the side of his face against the suppleness of your breasts before taking in the perk nipple into his hot, wet mouth; eliciting a jolt out of your quivering body. You couldn’t help but cuss under your breath with how erotic it was to the sight to hold your breast for him as he suckled on it greedily.

Everything was starting to feel like you were drowning in a euphoric trance; Gaara, as nervous as he was, was more than willing to compensate for his lack of experience by being an excellent, attentive lover, an enthusiastic one at that; with how he was working your body inside out as if he was desperate to deliver you the utmost euphoria. Every timbre of moan, gasp, a soft mewl or a lustful groan of his name in response to what he was doing, he takes in all of it calculatingly. His pace and pressure has been steady up to this point, his index and middle finger as it being continuously bathed lasciviously by your juices while he rubbed circles against your pulsing clit allowed him to start hearing soft, wet schlick noises, and how your cunt seemed get wetter and wetter by the time he started to toy with your nipples simultaneously aroused him beyond belief.

He wasn’t one for dirty talk, but at least not yet at the moment, but his genuine curiosity at how your body ticks and reacts was something he couldn’t help but wonder about.

“You’re so… wet…”

You couldn’t help but moan under his ministrations; half of it being your honest response with what he just said. “B-because… what you’re doing… it feels so good.” Your body jolted upwards when he used the hand that was holding you by your shoulders to sneak in a teasing, left-to-right flick of his index finger against your other nipple. “Gaara…”

Gaara built up his suckling on your hardened nipple before releasing it in a slow, erotic pop. “Yes, my love?”

“I want you to…” You moaned breathlessly before him as you started to rub your palm against the back of his hand once again. “I want you to finger me…”

Gaara’s breathing hitched in response, the hot air leaking past his panting, open mouth sending shivers down your spine as it continued to fan against your bare neck as he looked up to you. “How would you like me to do it?”

“Insert it slowly, just one finger at first.”

“Do you want me to proceed after every instruction, or would you like me to hear everything first-“

“Gaara.” You chuckled against him, pressing the tips of your index and middle finger to loosen the wrinkle on his forehead as his face started to get serious once again.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbled. “I’m just… worried that I might hurt you.”

“Well… slight discomfort might be something that should be expected, since… it is our first time after all… But, I mean…” You pulled your hand away from guiding his for a brief moment, tucking in a stray of hair behind his ear before pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead. “What I just want to say is, I trust you; I trust you a lot. I know that you will always take care of me no matter what.”

Gaara pouted slightly in response, as he couldn’t help but be so calm and comforted with how you talk to him like that. He just feels so at ease and loved throughout the whole process, at how understanding you were of him. “Tell me right away if you want me to stop, okay?”

You nodded at him with a smile. “I will, don’t worry.”

And with a reassuring nod from both of you at the same time, Gaara rubbed fleeting circles against your nub before slowly slipping in his index finger into your wet slick, sliding it inch by inch, with Gaara halting right at the middle. “You can go deeper.” You chuckled. Gaara followed your instruction, earning a soft sigh from you when it finally entered you fully.

“It’s so… soft.” Gaara mumbled, his voice laced with a hint of wandering curiosity.

“Yeah…” You whispered back with a sigh. “You can explore it, just be gentle and slow on making your way around.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really… since I’m very turned on at the moment…” You whispered shyly.  

“Oh.” Gaara chuckled, his voice low and deep. A slight ‘o’ shaped your pucker as a blissful mewl escaped it when Gaara started to trace gentle, stirring motions inside your pussy, having it in intervals as he also stroked the upper walls of your cunt. Gaara took your response as a positive affirmation, making him a little more confident this time.

“S- slip in… another finger…” You mewled.

Gaara looked up to you, his face mixing in both parts of hesitance and impending lust. “Are you sure?” He whispered.

You nodded at him before another yet breathy groan left your panting mouth, as he begun to slowly insert his middle finger into you; the gradual stretch that followed becoming much more evident to feel. A whispered cuss followed through when you felt Gaara grind his clothed cock slightly against your thigh, as it started to get rock hard once again.

You ran your fingers down his chest, snaking down your palm against the plane of his stomach, tracing it downwards until you felt the waistband of his boxer shorts against your fingertips. With a sly smirk, you began rubbing your palm across his boxer shorts; feeling in the silhouette of his hardening arousal protrude through the fabric, making Gaara groan in response.

“Do this,” You gestured a sluggish ‘come hither’ movement with your fingers before returning it on top of Gaara’s boxer shorts. You moaned against him when he started to follow through, going for the gesture once, twice and thrice; retreating it out to rub teasingly against your clit before doing it again and again.

Schlick.

Schlick.

Schlick.

Even Gaara’s knuckles were soaking wet at this point, and he couldn’t help but have the curiosity in regards to how the taste of your pussy would roll on his tongue if he were to insert his fingers into his mouth. Gaara retreated his fingers, inching it closer to his face; parting his index and middle finger apart to see how far would the string of your wetness stretch out. In a lusftful daze, Gaara shoved his fingers into his mouth, suckling on it fervently; licking even the smallest trace of your arousal off of his digits.

Fuck, you taste so good.

Gaara raked his fingernails through the base of your scalp with his other hand, inhaling the scent of your locks as he continued to swallow in the sound of your sopping wet cunt being fingered and rubbed by his very own fingers. A gasp escaped his lips as he felt your palm crawl down underneath his boxers, and before he could muster a mewl of your name, you were already palming the pulsing body of his cock.

“Gaara…” You mewled desperately, making him shudder in response as he kept drowning deeper in the sweet sound of your moans. “I think I’m cumming, fuck…” You darted your eyes down, your heavy-lidded gaze taking in the erotic sight of his fingers entering and disappearing back and forth inside your cunt. The pleasure was beginning to get the best of you, and it wasn’t long until it began to overtake your sense of control over your own body; as your bliss-soaked cries began to get louder and louder to consort the increasing rock of your hips, almost riding against the curved digits that was plunging inside and out of your now tightening pussy. You took your hand from Gaara’s cock, sneaking in a desperate, circular strokes against your clit to coincide with his steadied fingering, “I’m cumming, Gaara! I’m-“  and with a loud, selfish scream of your lover’s name, you bucked your hips upwards; allowing your thighs to writhe and shake as you rode the heights of your orgasm in reckless abandon, whimpering Gaara’s name again and again until you could no longer muster anything incomprehensible. “Yes, yes… ahh…” You slapped your palm against your mouth, muffling out the continous drip of cries until it almost felt like you were choking on your unspoken euphoria as the length of your orgasm continued to render your body weak and shaking.

Fuck.

That felt so good…

“Y/N…”

Gaara was in shock.

His face might not reflect it at the moment, but he was genuinely stupefied by the intensity of it.

“Shit,” You cussed breathily as you tried your best to stablize your labored breathing. “Shit… that was amazing.” There was a hint of utter surprise in your remark as well, and it wasn’t long until you slapped your palms against your flushed cheeks as you began to laugh out of shock as well. “Fuck, did that just happen?”

Gaara sighed loudly as he slumped his back against the mattress, the realization hitting him just as hard as well like a punch on the gut. “Fuck.”

“What did you just-“ The way he cussed for the very first time made you completely erupt in laughter. You clutched your stomach as a slight hint of pain began to stir it, but when you tilted your head towards his face and you met Gaara’s gaze once again, you laughed even harder this time. You grabbed his arm by the wrist as you rested your weight on the side of your body, shifting your position and making him hug you from behind since your back was starting to feel a little sore and heavy. “I can’t believe you just said fuck.”

Gaara chuckled back as he playfully buried his face into the crook of your neck, eliciting a tickled reflex from you. He responded back by nuzzling his face deeper into the curve of it, nudging it left to right until both of you were giggling childishly together. “I loved it…” He whispered softly against the skin of your neck as he hugged you closer towards his body. The way his labored breathing started to calm down as you felt the heaving of his chest subside against your back relaxed you.

“You loved what?” You mumbled back as you entangled your fingers in between his digits, basking in the warmth and suppleness of his palm. You held his hand in front of your face, taking the sight of it with a loving smile as you closed your eyes before pressing a soft peck upon the back of it.

“The way… the way you get so into it…” Gaara retreated his hand briefly to tuck your hair behind your ear and to gently brush the remaining scattered mane away from your neck so that his face was directly pressing against your skin. He returned his hand back to your grip, entangling his fingers with yours on his own. You felt his chin rest upon the plane of your shoulders; his hot breath tickling your ear as he leaned even closer towards you. “Like you can’t get enough of it, like you want so much more… from me…”

“Gaara…” Your voice almost disappeared into thin air as a sigh tore through your sentence; the familiar warmth spreading across your cheeks as you began to feel something stiff pressing against your tailbone. An almost inaudible yelp escaped your lips as he pulled you even closer to him; his embrace getting tighter and tighter by the minute as his breathing began to function erratically once again.

Gaara’s body felt like it was being bathed in the warmth of a calm, burning flame. He felt so hot, so bothered, yet somehow the rising temperature seeps into his skin like a slow, gentle embrace. His chest and throat was beginning to feel dry and constricted, worsening his desperation to breathe. He could feel the deepening timbre of his heartbeat, and he would by lying if he said that he wasn’t terrified. This was all so new… so foreign, to him.  Gaara didn’t know exactly how to respond to it; his rational thinking process wasn’t in tact, leaving him with nothing but a jumble of words and phrases that barely scratched the surface of how he really felt at that moment.

Underneath the shallows of his confusion, he somehow recognized that there was an epiphany beneath it all; its edges jagged and blurry, all because he tries so desperately to see his emotions through a concise, logical standpoint; the one he can easily explain, the one he can support with facts. He has a hard time allowing himself to feel something he can’t comprehend because it feels like it cripples his sense of control; and that alone scares him.

But that wasn’t what he needed, that wasn’t the one who’s going to help him at all.

He was now dealing with a language that his own body speaks for itself; a language that wouldn’t drip perfectly-worded explanations from the tip of his tongue.

He just needs… to feel it as it is.

Every last bit of it.

“I want it bare against me…” You whispered under your breath. Your remark earned an almost exasperated groan from your lover; the build-up of excitement coiling his stomach in an increasing grip making him bury his face deep into your shoulder. A gasp tore through your shallow breathing as you felt the familiar warmth of his cock embedding a girthy silhouette against your lower back.

“Ahh…” He moaned into your ear; the ring of pleasure bathing the timbre of his voice sending mutual shivers on yours and his own spine. He didn’t understand why, but it seemed like allowing himself to verbalize his carnal desires outspokenly somehow increased his sense of euphoria. The way that his bare cock grinded against the supple curve of your tailbone sent him towards the edge. “Y/N…”

You shifted your body upwards and deepened the curve of your back; offering your ass as an enthusiastic opportunity for luscious friction reserved for his private gratification. You stretched your hand behind you, your fingers tiptoeing lines all over his skin before planting a firm grip above his toned ass, giving it a sluggish, relaxing squeeze before resting your grasp above his hipbone as you helped him thrust his body forward. A deeper flush graced his face, the slight shock of having his backside squeezed and the fact that he moaned in response flustering him even more.

“Gaara?” You bit your lip, as you could you feel your heat starting to desire more and more.

“Y- yes…?” Gaara halted the grinding of his hips.

“Would you like to grind it against… me?”

“B- but I already… am…” The realization that chased his scrambled thoughts afterwards had hit him like a whiplash. “Oh…”

“Y- you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, of course.” You quickly followed up as you felt him slightly tense up behind you. You placed his hand in front of your face before giving it comforting, repeated pecks.

“Y/N…” Gaara mumbled breathily against you. “I want it, too…”

“Gaara…”

“Tell me…” Gaara swallowed the lump in his throat as his mouth began to feel drier. “Tell me… where you want me to grind against… I- I need to know that I did not misunderstand anything.”

If it even was possible, the warmth in your cheeks continued to burn even more.

“Uhm… g- grind it…” The scalding heat enveloping the rest of your body was starting to make you feel dizzy. “Against my pussy…”

“Shit.” He cussed breathlessly, his barely audible voiced laced down with a mix of panic and arousal.

The way your heartbeat sank your chest deeper in every pulse paralleled his own bodily reaction; yours and his own breathing loud and labored. A subtle yelp of anticipation left your panting mouth when you felt his palm run a linear path down behind your thigh; halting upon contact against the back of your knee before parting your thighs apart; assisting you to plant your foot behind his body. You couldn’t help but blush even harder at the lewd nature of your disposition.

…And the fact that you loved it like that made it even worse.

“A- are you sure that you really want to do this?” Gaara cooed into your ear.

You hooked your thumb into the waistband of his boxer shorts to tug it down even lower.

“I am, Gaara…”

You darted your gaze down below, a bite on your lip tearing through your moan as you felt the stiff silhouette of Gaara’s cock hovered in between your sopping folds. You rested your back against Gaara’s body, tilting your face towards him to meet his gaze; with a slight nod from you, Gaara took a deep breath before thrusting his hips upwards.

Ever so slow… and almost unbearably shallow.

“Ohh…” You mewled as the wet, spongy tip of his cock brushed briefly against your still, sensitive clit.

I guess it could be said that there was almost a certain feel of fullness to it. His cautious pace allowed you to take a fleeting sip of what is yet to be unraveled and, it’s doing nothing but make you beg for more. “Grind it deeper, Gaara… Please…”

Gaara’s face was in a continuous wince of bliss; as he couldn’t help but almost salivate pantingly in response to the overwhelming affection and sensation that he was currently taking in all for himself alone. He could feel himself shudder in pleasure as you started to get dripping wet once again; making it easier for his dick to grind up and down your soaking slit. The starting point of his thrust would begin at the sensitive area just below the actual entrance of your slick before having his veined, thick-girthed cock separate the folds of your cunt ever so deliciously. The suppleness of your labia clung onto his stiffened member with a bare hint of grip as he continued to rub it lewdly against you. Gaara planted kiss upon the roundness of your shoulder before resting his forefinger and middle finger on top of opposite sides of your folds before spreading them apart, having your throbbing clit further out exposed; making it much more easier for the tip of his cock to grind against your nub.

Again and again.

“Fuck…” You shut your eyes tight before fluttering them open once again, groaning at the sight of the pink tip of his stiffness peaking through your groin.

“I- I’m a my limit, Y/N…” Gaara whispered weakly, his breathing rendered erratic for worse. “I think I’m going to cum again…”

You did notice that his thrusts were getting sloppier and shaky, but you wanted to keep the momentum and steadiness in tact so that your lover gets the best out of his impending orgasm. “L- Lay down… on your back…”

With a flushed face and a gasping mouth, Gaara nudged his face affectionately against your cheek before pulling the pillows closer to him. He laid on his back, a sense of nervousness and anticipation peeking through his heavy lidded gaze. You tugged on the fabric of his boxer shorts before peeling them all the way down. You planted your knees down against the mattress, straddling either side of his hips. The hem of his shirt hung way too low on your body, so you decided to pull the fabric over your head and set it aside. Gaara couldn’t help but sigh exasperatedly at such erotic sight of his fully naked beloved sitting on top of him. You leaned your body forward, placing your palm on top of the other as you rested it above his upper abdomen; the position of your arms rendering your tits squeezed together. “Y- you’re about to cum soon, right?”

“Y- yes, my love…” Gaara groaned as he began to feel your sopping flesh grind against him once again. The abundance of your juices rendered his groin and scarlet pubic hair to be glistening wet. You rocked your hips a little farther behind, allowing your cunt to not only stroke his pulsing cock, but his balls as well. A loud, uncontrolled moan tore through Gaara’s quiet cries when you began to thrust forward, the soft impact sending an electrifying jolt on his trembling body.

“K- keep going…” Gaara covered half of his face with his forearm, the intensity of watching you in such a compromising act becoming a little too overwhelming for him.

There was just something so… dirty and erotic about the whole thing. The fact that the act was nestling perfectly in between two, utterly separate things just felt so carnal. Both of you weren’t technically having sex, but at the same time, there was this bare feeling of your cunt being lusciously filled by the thick girth of his cock, and there was a teasing taste of what’s it’s like for his dick to be choked by the suppleness and wetness of your pussy. It was the state of not doing it but already feeling a rather addicting hint of it that drove both of you to the very edge.

“I’m cumming…” Gaara whimpered pantingly as he shrugged his shoulder tight, and with a firm, forward thrust of your body, Gaara shot his thick load all over his abdomen; some of it even reaching his chest. You retreated back your body to see how his dick trembled uncontrollably against his lower abdomen as it continued to spurt his thick cum before thrusting your pussy forward once again; earning a loud cry from Gaara’s panting mouth. His chest heaved up and down heavily, little breathy sighs of bliss escaping him as he let his orgasm run its course. “Ah… ahh… Y/N…” He mumbled in between his gasps.

Gaara flinched when he felt your index finger trace a line on top of his stomach. You brushed his forearm away from his hand so that he gets to see you tasting his cum of off your finger; the very sight of it covering his skin with goosebumps. Even with such an erotic face; you cracked a gentle, reassuring smile towards him before reaching out for his shirt, using the fabric to wipe the remaining cum off of his abdomen. Gaara’s eyes softened, the beat of his heart ringing with an affectionate and warm pulse as he watched you take care of him ever so gently. “That was great, Gaara…”

He didn’t understand why, his thought process at the moment was in deep shambles. Gaara thought that was all to it, but his chest was still getting warmer, and his stomach was still getting tighter. He was already begging himself to stop because it was becoming almost unbearable to feel, but his emotions still paced through and through. He was beginning to feel lightheaded due to his debilitating ability to breathe; worsening his impending meltdown, and with a soft caress of your hand on his cheek, and that ever so endearing, comforting smile; he might have shut his eyes tight as early as he was able to, but his tears were already streaming down his face.

A shocking jolt of panic sent your body to sit down beside him, your chest feeling like it was in a tight, choking grasp. “Hey, hey…” You whispered softly as you helped him sit down, relaxing his back against the headboard. You wrapped an arm behind his shoulders, cooing out affirming words as sobbed quietly into the back of his hand. You pulled him into a hug by the back of his neck, your other hand combing fingers through his hair as you pressed a kiss against his forehead. You felt his arm snake around your body from behind. “It’s okay, Gaara… I’m he-“

Your sentence was cut off when Gaara placed a soft grip on top of your jaw, gestured your face towards him, and pressed his lips against yours. Gaara’s kiss lingered with so much affection and longing that you couldn’t help succumb every bit of yourself to it. He propped his knee beside your opposite hip before shifting his position and situating his body on top of your lap without breaking the kiss even for a second. He was groaning audibly into your mouth as you were rendered almost drunk of how intoxicating the taste of his mouth was. You were already cornered by your lover as you felt the headboard press firm against your back, but Gaara was still shoving himself towards you, feral and starving as he lapped on your tongue selfishly.

“G- Gaara…” You whimpered breathlessly in between as he continued to tower over you, the sound of your wet mouth being explored by your lover’s tongue eagerly sending shivers down your spine. His kisses grew desperate by the minute as he chased the diminishing air in his lungs, and with a low growl, Gaara released you from his grasp; dropping his head down right away to his lap in order to avoid your gaze. The sound of his pants dominating over yours as his shoulder heaved up and down with his constricted chest. His knuckles turned white above his lap, a visible frustration being out in display as you stared at how he clenched his fists tightly into a ball. You reached out for it, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb. His eyes softened at the sight; your caring gesture making him hold your hand in front of his face before pressing a kiss against the back of it, and before you know it, he has already leaned his body forward; lips brushing against yours in a much more gentle peck.

“I’m scared…” Gaara mumbled under his breath as he buried the side of his head into your neck, his face angled towards the side so he could speak clearly.

“Of what?” You replied worriedly.

“Of this.”

His answer felt like it jabbed a sharp sensation into your chest, but you swallowed your reaction to allow him to speak his mind. You stayed quiet, the silence you offered paving way for his faint, nervous sighs to be much more audible.

“I’m terrified of this, Y/N.” Gaara said weakly as he reached out for your hand and rested it above his heaving chest. Gaara landed his gaze down upon your hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb as he allowed your palm to press contact against his skin. It was faint to the touch, but the familiarity of it made it easier for you to understand what he was trying to say. His heartbeat was slow, yet deep; the weight of its pulse making it harder to bear than a quick-paced one. It was a type that laced a hint of pain with how much love and affection it rung with.

You remained silent, but you brushed your lips on top of his sweat-dampened hair in hopes of relaxing him even just a little bit. He couldn’t help but shut his eyes tight as his chest hammered harder againt your palm; the smallest of your gestures enveloping him in so much tenderness that he had never had the luxury of receiving for so long.

“I had never felt something like this…” Gaara smiled to himself as he began to think of all the memories that you two had since the very beginning. “It’s so… warm… it feels like a lot of things all at once…” He chuckled as his words began to run out again. It was frustrating to not be able to express one’s self eloquently, but he was so flustered at the moment that he was beginning to derive the slightest humor in it. “I have never felt such joy, but at the same time, I have never felt such dread…”

You stroked his hair with your fingertips, not even a word leaving your mouth to allow him to speak comfortably.

“It feels like it’s reaching out to me, like it’s telling me that it was fine… it was a safe space that I can be vulnerable around with once again.” He breathed in before speaking once again.” That I can be happy without having to put up… so many walls…” His voice almost seemed like it was about to disappear into thin air. “But at the same time, I do know that once it disappears, I will never be the same again; and that terrifies me.”

“Gaara…”

“But… do remember that you don’t have to return my feelings for the rest of your life, you don’t have to promise me anything.” He mumbled with a weak smile. “I am already more than grateful for what you have graced my life with.”

Your chest got heavier and heavier by the second as you continued to listen to your lover.

“When the time comes… where being with me harbors nothing but pain and loneliness, you are free to be on your own.” He whispered faintly against you, his words becoming harder to discern in between his choked sniffle and heavy breathing. “I will not take that away from you, my love.”

“Gaara…” Your voice croaked as your tears began to swell up on the corner of your eyes. You knew it yourself that if he says another word, your crippled control over your emotions would fail completely.

“Either way, no matter where you choose to go,” Gaara pulled back his face from your shoulder, returning his gentle caress on the side of your cheek before pressing a kiss against your forehead. “For me, it will always be you.”

Your eyes fluttered open briefly before shutting them tight once again as your tears began to stream down your cheeks. In one swift motion, you pulled Gaara downwards and dove your face forward for a kiss. He entangled his fingers deep into your locks, his grip laced with a gentle firmness as you reciprocated it by wrapping your arms behind his nape to pull him closer to you. “I’m scared, too…” You whispered weakly in between his kisses. “But I can’t help it, Gaara. I just can’t.” You sniffled in between as you continued to tug his body downwards until you were once again in the same position as you were earlier; back pressed hard against the headboard, mouth wide open, breathless. “I love you, Gaara.”

Gaara growled lowly into your mouth as your words continued to set his body in flames. Hearing it again jabbed a crippling shot against his sense of control. “I love you…” You continued to moan pantingly beneath him.

“Please…” Gaara pleaded softly as he grew weaker and weaker by the minute, his voice cracking upon his pleas.

“I love you, Gaara… I really do…” Your voice broke as you stroked his cheeks softly.  

Underneath the entrancing, lingering stare he has you under, there was a deep-seated conflict that resides within himself. It was a beautiful imagery that he found himself embedding deep into his mind; the way your lips curved and parted as those three words left your mouth. He kept hearing it,; the exact, gentle timbre of your voice, despite the fact that you were now silently breathing under him as you stared back at him adoringly. It feels like he was nakedly vulnerable against it, it feels like a trance that’ll make him succumb every bit of himself just to hear it once again.

Gaara dove his face forward, his kisses emanating nothing but pure need, a raw desperation to remind himself that this was indeed happening, that this was his reality now; that after all the years he has suffered alone, he was now finally given the very chance to fall in love and to be loved back ever so genuinely. “You’re really here, right?” Gaara mumbled desperately in between his fervent kisses as he snaked his hand behind the back of your head, entangling his fingers through your locks gently as he angled your face better for a much more deeper kiss. He closed his eyes before leaning for another kiss, nibbling and sucking on your lip; swallowing your taste hungrily as if he wanted to own you all for himself. “When I wake up tomorrow, you’ll still be here with me, right?”

The further you swam in the very depths of his affections, the more you it terrified you; as his deepest conflicts and resolutions mirrored exactly how you felt about him; and to be so mutually entwined with one another almost felt too good to be true.

But, it was.

It was the truth.

“I’m never going to leave you,” You whispered back as you stroked the side of his face with your fingers, tucking in strays of his beautiful, red locks as you returned the urgency of his kisses ever so passionately. “When you wake up tomorrow, I’ll be the first one you’ll see. When you sleep tomorrow night, I’ll be the last one you’ll see. I promise, Gaara. I promise you that. You’re not going to be alone anymore, I’ll always be with you no matter what.”

His tears flew free now, basking in every ounce of emotions that he has repressed for so long. He was right, he thought to himself. Love really did feel like a lot of things happening all at once. He had never felt so free, adored, terrified, yet ironically calm at the same time. It was a complex emotion that so fucking consuming, and he no longer bring himself to stop. He had never felt so willing to surrender himself without any ounce of doubt.

A genuine smile graced his tear-stained face, a grin so truthful that he couldn’t help but bask it in with his eyes closed as he continued to press pecking kisses upon your wet face. “Take me as you please. I am yours, forever.” He held your knuckles in front of his face, fluttering his eyes closed as he dropped kisses on it endearingly.

“Take me as you please, too…” You mumbled with a soft smile before wrapping your forearms behind his neck once again, tugging his body down as you laid your back once again on top of the mattress. You raked your fingers through the base of his scalp as you continued to swallow his wet groans into your open mouth, moaning just as blissfully as his kisses continued set your body in fire. You pulled back from the fervent kiss, darting the tip of your tongue out to lick a path up his throat; making Gaara shudder breathlessly as he felt your pucker nibble and suckle the edge of his jaw before biting in softly the spot below his neck.

Gaara snaked his hand behind your nape, interlocking his fingers with your locks and planting a firm fist of it as he pulled it backwards, allowing him lap on the skin of neck your selfishly. A sudden moan from his wet mouth vibrated against your skin when you sank his hips lower and you bucked your body upwards to have a sly grind of your soaking slit against his now hardening cock. “Gaara…” You mewled breathlessly under him as he began to thrust his hips in return, the familiar feeling of having his member rub against you once again eliciting strings of curses from your lips. You halted for a moment, striking an unwavering gaze towards his own heavy-lidded eyes as both of you exchanged hot exhales of breath. “I’m… ready…”

The paralysing beat of his heart began to pound once again. “Y/N…”

“I’m ready, Gaara…” You smiled softly as you stroked his cheek. “I’m yours, forever…”

Gaara was not speaking, he was just breathing heavily above you; scarlet locks framing his beautiful face messily. His eyes spoke a thousand of words that will probably never leave his mouth, yet somehow, hearing it wasn’t something you needed at all just to understood what he wanted to say. His glassy, seafoam eyes continued to tear through you ever so seductively yet endearingly. It’s cripplingly intimidating yet ironically comforting at the same time. It was a pile of irony that you’ll probably never be able to explain in this lifetime. It wasn’t simply black and white…

He really was just simply a million of beautifully-threaded complexities.

“Make love with me…” You whispered lovingly underneath him.

Your words sent his brain into a haywire; the shock setting in making his chest heave nervously. Gaara swallowed a gulp before taking in a sharp breath. “Did I hear you right, my love?” He mumbled with an almost chuckling voice as manifested by a flustering panic.

You nodded before giggling back at his cuteness.

Gaara held your face by your jaw, his thumb gently rubbing against your wet lower lip. “Let me hear it again, my love… just so I am sure…”

You bit his thumb playfully; the surprised, wince of pain in his facial expression that made his one eye close making your heart beat faster. Gaara pulled back his thumb from your lips before plunging it into his mouth, sucking off the small trails of your saliva clinging onto it. “I’m listening.”

Your gaze drifted to the side before meeting his steady stare once again. “M… make love with me, Gaara…” The sudden realization hit you, making you whisper a soft “shit” under your breath, rendering your lover’s forehead furrow in confusion. “I… uh… That’s not really my decision alone. I mean, only if you’re ready. W- we don’t have to-“

Gaara pressed a firmer kiss this time, nibbling your lower lip into his mouth before parting your pucker apart with his curious tongue.

“You… really have the best way… of cutting me off when I speak…” You whispered in between his kisses, the way both his hands held either sides of your jaw in place with a gentle hint of possessiveness reigniting the warmth in your stomach.  Your amused, chuckling giggle against his kiss embedded a soft grin on his mouth as well. Gaara pulled back from the kiss with a gentle smile gracing his flushed face. He did not cry for long, but his nose was already flushed red; eyes a little swollen and pink. An embarrassed chuckle from your lover tore through the brief silence of just staring at each other.

“I am ready…” He whispered to you. “But are you… really ready, tonight?” His arms was starting to get sore from carrying the weight of his body so he nestled his body softly above you. Gaara traced a line upon your cheek with the tip of his nose, before speaking once again. “Are you on protection? I might get you…” His breathing becoming gradually erratic, his voice ringing even deeper this time “…pregnant.”

“Shit…” You whispered breathlessly, the warmth in your cheeks getting more botheringly scalding. Your cuss elicited a deep, amused chuckle from your lover. Knowing that a part of why he said it like that was to tease you a little, and you knew better than to not clap back. “There’s no need to worry. You can cum inside me all you want.” You mumbled seductively, easily eliciting a flustered groan from your lover.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“W- would it be okay if… y- you were on top?” He asked, his voice a little shaky and worried. “I just… I just thought that such position would allow you to have a better control on how you want it to go… I want to give you that choice; I don’t want to hurt you, my love.”

Your chest fluttered at his caring words. “Stop making me fall in love with you more, Gaara. I wouldn’t be able to get out of it if you keep doing that.”

“Well… that is the point.” He chuckled before laying his back against the headboard and gripping you softly by your waist as you sat down above his lap. Gaara asked you to bent over slightly towards him, the curve of your spine pushing your ass up in the air as you wrapped your arm around his shoulder and buried your face into his neck. “I’ll make sure you’ll never get out of it.” Gaara whispered to your ear before plunging his index and middle finger into his mouth, coating it abundantly with his saliva before reaching out for the increasing heat resting between your legs. Acting upon what you have taught him, Gaara teased the either sides of your labia first; his touch barely even hovering with how light it was. In every passing second, the pads of his fingers began to gradually sink a little deeper against your skin; a look of subtle wonder gracing his face as he felt the muscle tense up bit by bit as he continued to stroke it. You spat on your palm before snaking it towards his groin, and before Gaara could moan back, you were already working his cock with your sloppy fist.

Gaara began to rub the length of his digits from left to right upon the sensitive center of the slit, the sly gesture resulting to a wet, slapping sound that made his cock twitch harder in between your sensually-pumping fist. Gaara traced a vertical path towards your throbbing clit before teasingly flicking the tip of his middle finger upon it. It wasn’t long until he began knead circular strokes against your nub, the intensity of its pressure crawling gradually as he swallowed your mewls of bliss directly into his ear.

“Finger me…” You panted as you redirected your face towards him. “Please…”

Gaara’s breathing hitched after hearing you beg. With a soft nudge of Gaara’s face bumping against yours, he carefully inserted his index finger into your pussy, a jolt of euphoria shaking your composure when the side of the knuckle of his middle finger brushed against your clit as he allowed your walls to get used to the feeling of his lone digit nestling inside. It wasn’t long until Gaara plunged his middle finger inside as well, eliciting a soft sigh from you as you continued to play with his stiffening cock in return.

Although his fingering was still very, very cautious, he was starting to get the hang of it, and is now slowly getting the confidence in himself that he could make you feel good under his touch. He maneuvered his digits gently in a stirring motion, and the way your walls wrapped around his fingers wetly and tightly was a sensation he was starting to get addicted to. Gaara’s cock was now significantly erected at this point, its pink tip beginning to erupt with a clear, slippery pre-cum that made his cock glisten wet under the soft light in the room. When he began to the flick his index and middle finger to stroke your sensitive spot, you began to lose your focus on toying with his dick.

Surprisingly, Gaara wasn’t just shoving his fingers back and forth. It was as if his cautious, patient nature rendered him to not be impulsive on his foreplay. He was taking his sweet… sweet time, his hand on your jaw caressing your face as he whispered how pretty you were; the tender, endearing words leaving his lips coinciding erotically with how slow and sensual he was; the thrust of his fingers hinting enough firmness, curling it up as he applied the perfect pressure against to elicit your impending cum bit by bit from your cunt. Not being able to bear it anymore, you crawled your lips towards his ear and gave him your permission.

“Gaara… I’m ready…”

With his chest tightening even harder with your voice dripping off like a sweet honey from an overpouring pot, Gaara pressed a soft kiss against your cheek. “Thank you… for trusting me…” He whispered with sa smile. Gaara assisted you once again in a sitting position, his erected cock pressing against your lower abdomen this time. “I- I promise… I wouldn’t do anything that will hurt you. Tell me everything, okay?”

You nodded before him with a reassuring smile. You lifted your body off of his lap before gripping the base of his cock, holding it in place as you grinded your clit against the tip of it before redirecting its angle and slowly taking it in inside of you.

You sighed breathlessly as you dropped your gaze down his cock, with the pink, wet tip of it slowly disappearing into your tight, wet cunt. Gaara carefully held you on place with his faint grip on your waist, the contortion of pain upon your beautiful face rendering him worried; but he trusted you as much you do with him. You bit your lip as you began to sink your body deeper into his length, the thick girth of his cock beginning to topple immensely in comparison to what his fingers had to offer. “S- so… big… Gaara…” You mumbled erotically, your remark reddening Gaara’s face for worse as he felt his cock twitch harder with how you complimented him like that.

There was an immense pressure that pooled upon your lower abdomen; a hint of pain in it, a burning discomfort as you may say. You shoved two fingers into your mouth before snaking it down towards your clit, rubbing it slowly and simultaneously as you continued to swallow in his cock into your pussy in order to ease yourself off of the discomfort. Gaara’s gaze dropped to the side, still wasn’t used to seeing you it right before his eyes for you to play with yourself like that while you’re literally shoving his dick right into your cunt. When you finally took in the rest of his length, your upper body collapsed above him alongside a relieved sigh ripping from your chest.

“Take your time, my love…” Gaara cooed sweetly as he brushed your hair away from your face before dropping a kiss against your forehead. “Y- you’re doing great, okay?”

His last sentence made your giggle against his neck.

“I’m sorry…”

“Aww, I didn’t mean it like that...” You propped your forearms against on both opposite planes of his shoulder before bumping your forehead against his. “In fact, I actually felt incredibly motivated.”

Gaara had a small pout on his lips. “You are being… sarcastic…”

“I’m not!” You pouted back before nudging your face against him playfully. “And I’d like to say that you’re doing great, too…” You giggled before pressing a kiss against his nose. “So, uh… what do you think, about this?”

He hummed in thought and cleared his throat, the flush in his cheeks getting tad bit deeper. “It’s so hot… inside you…” Gaara mumbled, his voice hinting with curiosity. “Soft, and tight…” The fact that he was literally describing how his lover’s cunt felt around his dick was enough to sent him to the edge.

“D- does it feel good?”

Gaara nodded bashfully, a gasp tearing through his supposed shut mouth when you grinded your hips teasingly against him.

“You feel good, too…” You replied. The burning sensation was starting to dissipate bit by bit, a tiny presence of it lingering still but the feeling of fullness was starting to arouse you more. “I’m going to start… moving a bit…” You mused, and with a nod from Gaara, he helped you buck your body upwards, allowing your slick to grind against the girth of his cock to increase your arousal even harder. “S- steady your cock in place, Gaara…” The way your words rolled off from the tip of your tongue made Gaara groan in response. He gripped the base of it immediately, gaze straight upon as he watched your pussy sank down to swallow in his dick; the familiar warmth and wetness making his face wince in bliss; making him cuss even louder when he darted his stare upon your face, a trace of euphoria gracing it as you felt the gradual pleasure nestling in between the pressure of his cock reentering your cunt.

“Ahh…” You moaned shakily, a satisfied sigh exiting your panting mouth before both of you groaned almost in unison when you stirred your hips in a circular motion, allowing the whole length of it to grind against the unexplored, sensitive spots all over in one move. Gaara couldn’t help the soft hiss that left him as the tightness of your pussy choked his cock even more. You planted a firm grip on his shoulder before raising your body once again and allowing yourself to get used to the newly-discovered euphoria of having your pussy by stretched deliciously bit by bit by the scalding, thick girth of his veined cock. “Gaara… fuck…”

Although drowning in bliss at the same time, his concern for you didn’t even blur for a second. “D- does it still hurt?” His voice gentle and sweet.

“A- a little bit sore, yeah…” You murmured back. “But it’s… it’s beginning to feel better, I think…”

“Can I do anything… that might help ease the pain?” Gaara wanted to touch you; he wanted to play with your breasts or stroke your clit in between, theorizing that the pleasure of such acts might distract you from the pain. But initiation wasn’t something that has sat comfortably inside his resolve just yet, and the last thing he wanted was to do something that’ll make it harder for you to adjust. “Tell me anything, I- I’ll do it, my love.”

“Kiss me…” You mumbled breathlessly. “Play with my body… everything you did earlier to make me feel good, y- you can do it.” Towering over him, you began to initiate a kiss, your tongue eagerly exploring the rest of his panting cavern. You felt his grip leave your waist, the suppleness of his palm spreading warmth down your hips before wandering gesture began to squeeze your ass. The way his pressured knead sank into your muscle almost sedated you to utter relaxation. “I love that…” You mewled against his mouth before leaving a teasing bite on his lower lip. “I’m going to start moving now.” You mumbled before beginning to rock your hips back and forth.

“Damn it.” Gaara cursed under his breath as the sight of your naked, glistening body on top of him, and the way his cock disappeared into the wetness of your pussy flashed before his very own eyes. A sight so erotic, a sensation so pleasurable, that he was beginning to blur his sense of control as he began to grab your ass a little harder.

You were beginning to get the hang of it, as the thought alone in itself of making love with Gaara started to bathe your body in bliss. Apart from the literal pleasure that your body is going through at the moment, to hear him moan your moan, to see his flushed face; forehead furrowed, eyes shut tight and a firm bite on his lip was another form of indirect stimulation that made your body writhe in bliss. With your back starting to feel sore from leaning over, you arched your spine, hands placing a grip on his knees before planting both of your knees inches before the opposite sides of his hips, spreading yourself wide open for his eyes to feast on.

“Shit…” Gaara whispered with a shaky voice.

“It feels so good…” You kept mewling, your throat beginning to feel drier by the minute.

“Ahh… ahh, Y/N…” Gaara moaned louder as you began to rock your hips in a steadying pace that had his arousal being milked tight on a carnal static. The sight of your tits bouncing up and down was a very sensual visual that he kept swallowing all for himself, and an even louder cuss left his panting mouth when you caught a peek of your swollen clit protruding through your folds. Taking back a hand from your ass, Gaara shoved his thumb into his mouth, suckling and covering it abundantly with spit before pressing his palm against your groin, stretching his hand out so his thumb is able to reach your throbbing nub. A loud moan screa m of his name escaped you, sending him in a jolt-awakening panic.

“N- no no no, please… keep going.” You moaned above him, your nails sinking into his thighs as the sensation of your impending orgasm began to crawl. “Please, please. Keep going, Gaara.” You cried out.

With a firm gulp, Gaara resumed his gesture. He shifted his initial approach, with his hand now laying a grasp on your inner thigh as his thumb sneaked in lewd, kneading circles against your pulsing nub. The sensation of your clitoris being toyed with adding to his cock stroking the circumference of your entire sensitive cunt, the familiar knot in your lower abdomen began to thrive; the burning eagerness to chase it embedding itself so fucking deep into your skin. You repositioned your body, your hands now gripping the plane of his shoulders as every firm bounce of your body sinking him deeper and deeper into the mattress. The weight of your body clashing down on him was another yet sensation he was starting to get addicted to. The words that wanted to leave his mouth at the moment was something he’s barely holding on to suppress.

The urgency was getting the best of you, but the rougher you chased it, the easier it made for Gaara’s to feel his orgasm dawning upon him. It was too much, just too much. Every inch of his body was starting to feel immensely sensitive and you yourself began to notice that his cock was starting to swell so much harder inside your cunt. Gaara was trying his best, but overwhelming sensation was starting to cripple all kinds of autonomy that he had on his body. The rub on your clit was starting to get unsteady, and it was as if Gaara was almost starting to pull his body away from you with the mind-numbing stimulation that had him throwing his head back against the pillow as he unconsciously bucked his hips upwards. “Y/N…”

It felt like a never-ending stack of pleasure that continued to pile over one another until he couldn’t breathe. He was almost ready to beg his own cock to just cum already because it was starting to feel so much to take. The foreign euphoria that was penetrating every bit of pore on his skin for the first time almost broke him.

“Y/N!” He growled underneath you.

Your focus on your orgasm wavered as soon as you heard what was leaving his mouth.

His moans were so fucking hot.

His voice rang with utter haste, almost breaking in desperation as he tried to apologize profusely that he was going to cum earlier than you. You kept your pace steady and firm, more than eager to provide him yourself the very first coital orgasm of his life. “Please, please kiss me, my love.” He begged with an open mouth, a dribble of saliva beginning to stain the corner of his lip. Before you could even muster a reply, he had already pulled you down with his arms wrapped behind your neck, sloppily letting his tongue lick everything he could as his thought process began to crumble for worse. When you noticed him starting to lose his breath, you pulled back from his lips and pressed your forehead against him, allowing the hot, shallow inhale and exhales of air fan across your equally gasping mouth. His chest, throat and face were flushed bright red as he continued to writhe beneath you.

“I- I’m cumming, Y/N…” Gaara rubbed his face needily against yours.

“I love you, Gaara.” You whispered back.

And that was it.

The last straw of fervent intimacy that drove him straight towards the edge.

“I’m yours,” He mumbled desperately in a hush as his face contorted with the deepest form of euphoria that had him furrowing his forehead and shutting his eyes tighter than ever. He fluttered them open once again, his glassy, seafoam eyes tearing through you in a passionate daze. “please… please t- tell me that I belong to you, Y/N...” He pleaded, his voice cracking in desperation as he felt another wave of tears swelling on both corners of his eyes once again.

“You’re mine, Gaara.” You moaned back breathlessly. “Y- you belong with me, you belong with me forever…”

He cried out again and again and with the last downward thrust of your hips colliding with his, his body shook beneath you, his toes curling in bliss before dragging his feet towards his body, the rise of his thighs elevating you slightly. Under his orgasmic instinct, Gaara shoved his hips upwards, burying his cock deeper into you as strings of hot cum exploded deep inside your cunt. Your eyes widened at the sensation; his cock was at its most rigid state and it was twitching so fucking hard you can feel it pulse against your walls. The pure sensuality of having your lover bury his cum deep inside you was a whole new level of intimacy and affection. Knowing that your orgasm was just a nudge away from coming; you slipped off of his dick, the thick cum leaving down your pussy adding another form of lubrication as you began to grind your slit desperately against his girth; and with a firm, fifth thrust, a powerful orgasm began to wash over you. You gripped the base of his cock and reinserted his still cumming dick into your cunt, the hard, clamping motion of your walls choking his length eliciting some of the remaining cum from his arousal. Your body writhed above him desperately, not even a moan leaving your mouth as the utter, raw bliss was so intense that you couldn’t even muster a slightest sound. You collapse onto him, both of you panting heavily as the immense, euphoric shock continued to linger inside the two of you.

Both of you whispered each other’s name endearingly in content.

There was a comfortable silence that tied you both beautifully, a moment where everything just felt so raw and perfect that no words were ever needed to leave each other’s lips. A faint sniffle woke you out of your stupor, and before you could even redirect your face towards him, Gaara hugged you tight to his chest.

“I don’t know why… I keep tearing up like this…” He chuckled as he nestled his face into your locks, his voice cracking up a little.

You hugged him even tighter, and when he heard a barely audible sob from you; evidenced by the feeling of dampness staining his chest wet, his chest throbbed harder and another yet quiet cry he desperately tried to restrain had left him once again.

You shifted in your position, situating your self next to him as you laid your weight on the side of your body. Gaara proceeded to mirror your angle, as you two are now facing each other directly with both, gentle smiles upon your tear-stained faces. He held your hand against his chest; allowing you to feel the very beat of his heart; calm, deep, and genuinely affectionate. What he proceeded to do after a soft, weak smile shakened your entire resolve.

“I love you…” He mouthed silently before curling his lips in another yet genuine smile.

Audible words had never left his mouth, but if there’s one thing you almost heard, it was the beat of his heart that throbbed even harder after those three words as he held your hand tighter against his chest.

“I feel so scared that I can’t say it,” He slowly mouthed once again before chuckling weakly. “But I love you, Y/N…”

“I love you, too…” You mouthed back with a soft giggle as you used your other hand to stroke his tear-stained cheeks; your eyes barely fluttering open as you allowed yourself to bask in every ounce of emotions you were going through at the moment, and suddenly…

It was harder to breathe.

You were beyond stunned, the overpouring emotions you did not expect for had suddenly washed all over you, body and soul, and it has robbed you off of even the tiniest bit of chance to speak.

There was nothing, really.

Nothing but heavy breathing, a shared grace of a gentle, fulfilled smile between the two of you, an affectionate nudge of your equally-flushed cheek against his as you allowed yourself to have the warm of his face plant soft kisses upon your skin.

It was as if everything had stopped, and there was nothing in this world at this very moment that mattered but you, and him.

Gaara’s hands roamed, fingertips laced with prudence yet ardent need to know you, to feel you, to be one, with you.

The connection binding the two of you began to feel ethereally transcedental…

…And Gaara felt it, too.

“Do you feel it, too?” Gaara whispered weakly, his eyes gentle and loving as he reached for your wrist and held your hand in front of his face. He shut his eyes closed before placing an endearing kiss upon the back of it; his pucker brushing soft pecks upon every tip of your five fingers before carefully dragging his kisses down your palm. Gaara’s eyes fluttered open to take in the beautiful sight of your face as you watched him caress your wrist with his soft, wet lips.

Gaara had the utmost respect towards you. He viewed with the highest reverence, and he had always seen you as strong, independent person.

But tonight…

Tonight was different.

He never knew he could feel so much for someone until he met you, but at this moment, everything he had ever known was almost incomparable to what he feels at this very moment. You were a gift to him. To feel your warm, supple skin, to hear you breath, to listen to your voice… was a gift. He was looking directly through the uttermost tenderness inside of you, a sense of delicateness residing within your very soul that has ignited the fire inside of him to to love and protect at all costs.

“I feel it too, Gaara…” You whispered endearingly before planting a soft kiss against his lips and pressing your forehead against his. “If you’ll have me, I would give my life to protect you, too.”

Your words made his chest tighten, and before you knew it, he was already holding your body against him; an arm snaking in between the side of your head and the mattress as he pulled you closer towards him. Gaara caressed the supple, roundness of your shoulder, tiptoeing the tips of his digits down the blades of it before petting you by your hair and kissing your forehead gently. “I will always keep you safe, no matter what.” He whispered.

Noticing the slight shudder on your skin, Gaara reached out for the blanket laying messily in between your bodies. With a gradually increasing loudness of cute, annoyed grunts as he tried to yank it out freely under his body, he was finally able to cover the halves of both of your nakedness under it. You couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement, but also blush at how endearing his gesture was.

“I feel so sticky right now.” You giggled. Gaara had that “me, too” look on his face despite the lack of verbal reply. “We went to bed at like… 10 PM.” You stared at your fingers as you tried to count. “It was probably around 2 AM when you woke up… It’s probably quarter to four now.”

“I think so too, yes…” Gaara chuckled back weakly. There was an obvious heaviness in his lids, but he still wanted to talk about what just happened. He wasn’t one to ask such daring questions, but it was as if some parts of him had improved for the better; it felt like he was more than willing now to initiate communication with you. “So… uhm, Y/N…” He trailed off. “How did it… feel?” Gaara asked, his voice a little nervous.

You hummed in thought. “Hmm… how do I put it in words…” You thought out loud as you traced lines and circles upon his naked chest.

Truth be told, it was probably something you could never, ever explain justifyingly with words alone.

As you continued your inward search for the perfect word, Gaara began to speak.

“I feel so connected… with you.” He whispered lovingly, his eyes gentle and endearing. “Body and soul…”

With a soft kiss and on his lips and an easing caress on his face, you pulled him closer to you as he began to nestle his face against the warm solace of your skin.

“And I feel so connected with you, too…” You repeated softly before caressing the back of his head as he began to fall asleep. “Body and soul…”

--

Your head throbbed painfully when you fluttered your eyes open and the not so gentle rays of the sun began to peek through the slight gaps in between the curtains. You quickly glued your eyes shut; and with the increasing awareness of your surroundings as your system began to wake itself up, you were almost shocked at the fact that there was still a familiar warmth and weight pressing upon your naked body at this time of the morning.

You were now lying on your back, and when you tilted your head towards your lover, you couldn’t help but giggle softly at such beautiful, rare sight.

The side of his face nestled upon the upper part of your breast, a heavy hand and leg pinning you down against the mattress, almost leaving you with no chance of escape. He had never looked so etheareally peaceful to you until now, eyes not so loosely shut and lips in a soft, curled pout. On top of that, this might just be the very first moment that you learned that Gaara actually snores… A really soft, baby snore, though. You couldn’t help but giggle when you noticed how there’s new, darker ray of eyebags pooling below his eyes… which is probably mirrored by yours, too.

Guess that’s what you get, making love so deep into the night where the moon itself is already close to losing its shine.

A soft, inward groan never left his lips but it was audible enough to hear, carving a deep smile upon your lips once more.

Finally, a very… deep, undisturbed sleep that he utmostly deserved.

You stayed still, even though your body was beginning to feel sore, apart from the expected one resting in between your legs; just in hopes of maintaining the relaxation he was currently pampering himself with.

Gaara really needed that more than anyone.

When he began to shift his body, and turned his back on you in a still, deep stupor, you began to carefully sit up and grab your discarded shirt off of the floor to walk to the bathroom.

After refilling the glass with water to bring on your way back towards the bedroom to give to Gaara once he wakes up, you took a short re-route towards the living room and sat upon the couch; dialing Temari’s number on the telephone before pressing the cold metal disk of its diaphraghm against your ear.

“Oh, finally!” You heard the familiar voice on the other side of the line.

“Good morning, Tem!” You greeted happily.

“Good mor- Oh?“ Temari’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise. “Y/N?”

“Yep.” You chuckled.

Temari chuckled back meaningfully at the surprising revelation, the familiar, teasing tone becoming something that was easy for you to discern.

“Come on, is it really that much of a shocker?”

“It is.” She replied amusingly. “The earliest you usually get up from bed is 10 am. You have beaten your record,” she shot a look towards the wall clock on her living room. “it’s 9:50 AM now.”

“How do you even know that?” You tried your best to stifle your usual, kinda’ loud voice when talking with her.

“Just a hunch.” Temari grinned. “Gaara had been asking me lately if there was a way he could maintain the warmth of the pancakes and coffee he makes for you at 6 AM. He says he doesn’t want you to have it cold because it might upset your stomach, but at the same time, he can’t bring himself to wake you up or to leave it up to you to cook your own breakfast.”

You couldn’t help but blush when you realized another yet undiscovered ways of how Gaara tries to show how much he loves you.

“By the way,” She cleared her throat as she shrugged her shoulder towards her, pinning the telephone against her ear as she tried to pull half of her locks into a side ponytail. “I have been ringing you guys for the last two hours. I was actually about to go on my way there to check up on the two of you because Gaara usually leaves for work at 6:30. It’s weird that he’s late.”

“Oh… uhm,” You couldn’t help but smile giddily like a teenager to yourself. “I’m sorry for not being able to answer right away. I called, too, because I was about to ask you if Gaara could take half the day off.”

“Why? Is he okay? Does he feel sick?”

“No… he’s just, sleeping really, really good right now.” You slumped your back against the sofa. “Like, the kind of good that’ll make you feel guilty if you wake him up from it. Out of all people, you do know the best that his sleeping schedule is still troubled.”

“I see…” Temari smiled gently to herself, her chest warming up at the thought of her baby brother being able to rest easy as he thoroughly deserves. “It’s okay. I could run some of his errands for him to ease his workload for today. I’m really glad to hear that Gaara’s sleeping well.”

“Yeah…” You grinned softly as you raked your fingers through your messy bedhair in hopes of fixing it up. “He’s pretty tired.”

“Tired?” Temari asked surprisingly. “He didn’t have much to do… yesteday…”

As sharp as she ever was, it was almost scary with how good she was at deducing things.

“So… what baby names are you choosing from?”

“Tem!”

Temari laughed hard from the other line. “I have leftover waffles here. I’ll hang the bag on the door knob, you don’t have to get up to greet me if ever you end up going back to sleep.”

“Thank you so much, Tem…” You couldn’t help but feel so thankful for how kind she was to you.

“No,” Temari said with a soft smile. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Tem…”

“Gaara loves you very much, Y/N.” Temari spoke so gently. “Thank you for giving him the chance to feel like that.”

After exhanging goodbyes, you flinched in your seat when someone grabbed and placed the telephone back on its cradle on your behalf.

“Do I have to carry you back to the bed?” Gaara mumbled, his voice a little grumpy. Before you could even answer, he had already made his way from the back the back of the couch, firm strong hands lifting you up from the cushion of the couch as carried you back towards the bedroom.

“Is this why you always try to wake up earlier than me?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you one of those people who are grumpy as hell when they wake up?” You teased.

Gaara dropped your body onto the mattress, the surprising edge of roughness in his action making your chest flutter in excitement. The heat between your legs started to burn harder when he towered over you, the familiar weight of his body cornering you down against the bed. “When you said… last night…” A satisfying yawn ripped from his chest before he pinned your hand softly against the bed, his thumb rubbing soft circles above your palm; the other hand stroking the side of your face softly as he leaned his face closer. “That you will be first thing I’d see when I wake up, I took it to the heart. But what I saw… was my boxer shorts…” His sudden, surprising dominance broke as he ended up giggling softly against the skin of your neck. You snorted back with a laughter, the odd, funny noise making him chuckle again.

“I called Tem… I asked her if you could come in a little late today. You looked like you were having the best sleep of your life, and I couldn’t bear to be the one who takes it away from you.”

“It really did…felt amazing.” He sighed, the way he breathed out hinting satisfaction on his end.

“The sleep?” You mused. “Or what happened before the sleep?”

Gaara buried his now flushed face deeper into your neck as he began to remember everything that took in place night.

Vividly.

“I’m sorry, though…” You whispered gently. “I didn’t mean to have your unromantic boxer shorts to be the first one you see in the morning.” You felt a smile against your neck before he props his chin above your chest, the vibration of your giggle pressing against his skin. “Would you get mad if I do it again? What if I had to pee?”

“You think I have the capacity to be that possessive?” Gaara asked, his voice hinting with amusement.

“I think you’d let me pee.” You smiled at him before brushing the messy locks from blocking the view of his eyes.

“I will.” Gaara began to press soft, pecking kisses upon your breast before dragging his lips in a linear path towards your neck, making you tilt your head to the side as he began to suckle softly on the skin. “But I wouldn’t shy from tying you down if it means I’ll be able to keep you in bed as much as I want to.”

--

[sunmoonandeddie]

oh, captain, my captain

pairing: professor!steve rogers x reader

word count: 2,090

summary: Steve Rogers got bored in his retirement, so he picked up the hobby of teaching art. But he still feels restless until his missing piece comes along.

warnings: swearing, little bit of smutty smut, dub-con, drinking, manipulation, steve is a little dark but reader is into it in the end

a/n: This is... a little darker than what most people expect from me. But I wrote this for a dear friend, so I really, really hope you all enjoy it!! Also, please read the warnings. I'm not responsible for your media consumption <3

Life after the Avengers was mundane.

Not that Steve didn’t like the quiet days, where he knew he wasn’t going to be running off and risking his life at any moment, mind you. In fact, he was finding that retirement rather suited him.

Except for the fact that he was bored.

Bucky and Sam were always busy on some kind of mission together, saving the world and splitting their time between Brooklyn, Washington D.C., and New Orleans. Or NOLA, as Buck liked to call it now.

Perhaps the boredom was why he took up art again. He did go to art school, after all, and had even graduated. It was after his first official professional art show that the university contacted him.

They wanted him to teach young minds how to make art.

It was the perfect solution to his boredom problem.

Of course, he should’ve realized that getting a new job wouldn’t make him feel complete. No, unfortunately, he hasn’t found the missing piece in his hundred years.

At least until you walked into his classroom on the first day.

Steve’s eyes focused on you immediately, enamored by the curve of your legs and the Cupid’s bow of your upper lip. “Hello, you,” he mumbled softly under his breath as he watched you sit down to what appeared to be a friend of yours. He scrolled through his attendance on the school supplied computer in front of him, raising his brows as he found the name next to your university ID picture.

A perfect name for a perfect girl.

Suddenly he felt the need to have a few figure drawing classes. Privately. With you. With your clothes off.

And maybe his clothes would be off, too.

He stood up as the clock finally hit one in the afternoon, holding his laptop. “Alright, please let me know if you’re here as I call your names,” he said, before going through the roster quickly.

When he called your name, and you responded with a soft, “Here!” he almost fucking came in his pants.

“Alright. In this class, as with many art classes, we’re going to get very… personal,” he said as he started to walk through the easels and those sitting in front of them. “So on the first day, rather than reading through the syllabus that’s readily available on your phone, I like to do some ice breakers.” He couldn’t help but grin at the collective groan that rang through the class. “I know, I know. But like I said, this class is going to get very personal. So come on, let’s all get in a little closer.”

“Do you mind?” You asked quietly as you scooted her stool in between two others that he couldn’t remember the names of. You gave them a blinding smile as they made room, perching in your seat like a little angel.

His little angel.

Everything seemed to be a blur as he led them in a series of questions, but he barely retained any information from anyone except you. At least he had his phone secretly recording in his pocket so he could go back and relisten later (even if it was mostly just to hear your voice.)

Favorite color?

“Green.”

Favorite holiday?

“New Year’s Eve.”

Favorite artist?

“Marilyn Minter.”

That was interesting to him. That showed that you had a naughty side.

A side he so desperately wanted to get to know.

The only issue was that he needed to find a way to get you alone, and that was going to take trust built up over time.

He was truthfully, absolutely amazed that it only took a few weeks before you were coming to him with wonder-filled eyes, asking him if you could please schedule some time during his office hours to go over some of your portfolio.

Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Hey, you made it,” he said when you walked in after a light knock on the door, your portfolio in hand. Steve stood and immediately pulled out the chair for you like a proper gentleman. Subtly, he took in a deep breath as the cloud of your perfume enveloped him like a warm hug.

It was something classy. Something you had clearly splurged on.

Perhaps Gucci or Valentino or something.

“I’m sorry for being late,” you said as Steve glanced at the clock.

You were maybe three minutes late at the most.

“The subway was delayed, and unfortunately, I can’t control when the subway stops and goes,” you continued, letting out a nervous laugh as you opened up your portfolio. “Did you get my email with my previous pieces?”

“Yes, I did!” He said as he sat back down at his desk. “And honestly, I haven’t been this impressed in a long, long time. I would love to possibly mentor you? Of course, that means a lot more hours spent with an old man like me.” Eyes crinkling, he couldn’t help but laugh when you laughed.

He was sure that he almost had you right where he wanted you. The corner you were backing yourself into was almost too perfect.

You seemed… amazed. Absolutely flabbergasted by his offer. “Really?” You breathed out, leaning closer, elbows resting on your knees. “You’d really do that? That would be… I… Thank you.” Shaking your head, you scooted your chair a little closer. “How much should I pay you? I’ve never had a personal mentor before.”

And there it was. The corner he wanted you in.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry about money,” he insisted as he looked deep into your eyes. It would be so easy to just get lost in them… “But, I do need assistance with something.”

“Of course!” You were like a doe-eyed little fawn, chasing him—the magnificent stag—through a field of wildflowers. “Whatever you want!”

Steve put on the most bashful, boy next door look he could muster. “Well… I’ve been trying to get back into figure drawing, but you’d be surprised at how hard it is finding a class to take that won’t freak out that I’m… you know. Steve Rogers.”

The look on you face let him know immediately there was no way you were going to say no. Hell, you were looking at him like he was the last puppy on the side of the road in a box that had ‘FREE’ written on the side.

In the rain.

“When do we start?”

Steve got everything set up in his home studio that night, only to sit until Friday night, when he’d planned for you to come over. Admittedly, he may have gone a little overboard with the mood lighting and the bottle of red wine that he’d left open on the counter to breathe, two crystal wine glasses resting next to it.

The good crystal.

He practically ran to the door when he heard the doorbell. “Hey, I was a little worried you would have trouble finding it,” he said as he guided you inside, a large hand coming to rest on the small of your back.

“Oh, I just Ubered,” you said, ducking your head as you let him lead you into his large home. “I don’t have a car. It’s too expensive and there’s no point when I live in the city. Though, the drive out here was absolutely gorgeous. I can see why you got a place a little bit upstate.”

Steve grinned, fighting the urge to say that it could also be your place. But that was for the future. “Yeah, the views and the quiet is worth the forty-five minutes or so I commute everyday.” He opened up the door to his home studio, all the windows wide open.

You wandered around the room, looking at the various art supplies and canvases scattered haphazardly around the room. In the very center was a chaise lounge with a blanket draped across it. “This is amazing… God, if I had my own art studio at home, I don’t think I’d ever leave.”

He poured out two glasses of wine, gently pressing one into your hands. “Well, you can always use this one. I have more space than I could probably ever use.” He sipped at his own wine, watching the way the glass pressed to your lips, watching the way you swallowed down the sweet liquid.

He couldn’t get drunk, but you certainly could.

It was around your third glass that he finally got to the point of why you were there. “So, I really want to paint you lying on this chaise,” he said as he guided you back. “But… Would it be possible for you to pose in the nude? You have just… the most natural beauty. I want to be able to only focus on that.”

“Oh my god, yeah!” You said as you set your glass of wine on the little table. With your inhibitions lowered, there was no hesitation as you stripped out of your clothing, tossing it all to the side. “You just move me how you want me.”

Oh, he would.

His own wine glass was set to the side before he moved closer, his eyes locked on yours. “Yeah?” He guided you to lie down on the bed, letting his fingers drift over your soft skin. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous… Could just look at you forever…” His thumb brushed over one of your hard nipples, teasing the little peak as his cock ached inside his sweats. “I could never paint anything else except for you… and I’d die the happiest man in the world.” Carefully, gently, he moved your legs so one of your knees was bent, your legs spread wide for him.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your skin feeling flushed from the wine and the excitement of this god-like man touching you. “Mmm… Professor…”

Steve’s eyes were locked in on the prize, that blooming flower between your thighs, glistening with sweet nectar. “I always love a hands on approach,” he cooed as he ran a single finger through your folds, gathering up your slick.

The taste was exquisite.

Pretty moans fell from your lips, your back arching as your legs instinctively spread wider for him. “Please…”

He knew you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. It was fate, you walking into his class.

“Do you want me to touch you, baby girl?” He asked, loving the purr that rumbled in your chest as he found your swollen clit. “So needy… When’s the last time your pretty little kitty got so much attention, angel? You’ve been neglecting her, haven’t you?”

At your nod, you tried sitting up a bit, lip caught between your teeth. “Y-Yes. Please… Please.”

Steve quickly realized you didn’t even know what you were asking for.

“So innocent. So sweet,” he said as he wrapped his hands around your waist to pull you to the edge of the chaise. He leaned in and took in a deep breath, groaning. “I wanna be able to smell you for days.” At the first lick of his tongue, he knew he had you wrapped around his fingers.

And when you finally orgasmed, soaking his beard with your juices? Fuck. He was even more of a goner than he was before.

Steve loved the way that you laid limbless on the chaise, foot lazily bouncing as you dozed. It was easily a sight that he could get very, very used to very quickly. This was going to be so much easier than he thought it was going to be.

While he knew he was the right one for you, being able to know that you weren’t going to fight him gave him an amazing sense of relief.

The next week, he stood at his desk, making notes on his laptop. At five minutes to one, the door opened as the first student to arrive entered.

Immediately looking up, his heart sank. It wasn’t you.

Did you panic after you left his place the next morning? Nothing more had happened that night. Surely getting an orgasm wouldn’t freak you out, right?

His hands were starting to tremble when the door opened again, and he felt someone standing right next to him.

“Professor Rogers?”

His head snapped up, relief flooding him when he saw you. “H-Hello. How can I help you?”

A mischievous smile spread across your face, even though you were clearly trying to contain it. “Is there any possible way you have some free time during your office hours for me to swing by? I’d love to schedule our next figure painting session.”

[stiltonbasket]

If you’re still accepting prompts, I’m curious how much chaos qin su!wwx was able to subtly cause at jinlintai without being caught? bc i don’t think he could go that many months without doing Something to Someone lol

(brief author’s note: this au is entirely prompt-based, so please reblog if you can for future updates!)

Three months into his stay at the Jinlintai, Wei Wuxian discovers that he dislikes Su She even more than he dislikes his husband.

It’s not even that he falls all over himself doing Jin Guangyao’s bidding, because he doesn’t, he reflects, observing the two in conference at one of the Jin sect’s private banquets. Su She’s really loyal to him, and that’s even worse.

Before her death, Qin Su was almost certain that Su She had taken part in Jin Rusong’s murder, simply because Jin Guangyao could never have done the killing alone. She maintained that Jin Guangyao would not have been able to go to the guest kitchens, poison the plate intended for him, and visit He Su’s private quarters with time to spare; and Wei Wuxian agrees with her, if only because plotting the murder of a young sect heir in public would require a like-minded accomplice.

“Poor A-Song,” Wei Wuxian sighs, laying down his embroidery as his two handmaidens hurry to his elbow to comfort him with tea and snacks. “Yongpei, what will I do?”

“Nothing will bring our A-Song back,” the elder maidservant says, with tears already welling in her eyes at the mention of her mistress’s son. “But Mistress, just because it hasn’t worked in these last years, you mustn’t give up persuading the master to give you another baby! Mistress hasn’t said anything about it this last year, and A-Tai and I feared you’d lost hope--but Mistress, you are so pretty, and you love your husband so dearly, so how long can he resist favoring you even if he can’t bear the thought of losing a second child? Mistress gave Sect Leader a wonderful baby boy, it wasn’t any fault of yours that our xiao-gongzi passed away--and surely the same horrible tragedy can’t happen twice! You can’t give in, no matter what the master says about it.”

“A-Pei,” Wei Wuxian says gently, “this mistress is grateful for your faith, but in the end, I am A-Yao’s wife, and in matters such as these, I must respect his wishes. What kind of shameless woman would I be if I forced my husband to my bed, when I know he wants nothing less than to have another child with me?”

“A woman should have a child!” Shao Tai cries. “Mistress, it’s not the same at all! When Sect Leader first stopped favoring you, you never said a word, and it was all right before we lost A-Song--Mistress only wanted to be a good mother to her baby, and obey Sect Leader faithfully in all things! But now, even though it’s been more than ten years since xiao-gongzi died, he still...”

“Do you really think it’s unkind of him?” Wei Wuxian murmurs, glancing down at his half-embroidered handkerchiefs and pretending to blink back a few tears of his own. “He says he’s afraid for my health, but...”

“Yes, he is being unkind! Mistress shouldn’t be afraid to ask for what she wants!”

Wei Wuxian chews on his lip for a moment. “Do A-Pei and A-Tai really think I should go ahead with this?”

The two women both nod forcefully, setting the tea and cakes down on the desk so that they can kneel by his feet. “You have served Sect Leader without a word of complaint all this time, so why shouldn’t he grant you this one wish?” Yongpei says. “Mistress, if you leave it to us, we will see to all the preparations!”

A-Tai gives a timid cough. “But jiejie, if Mistress acts too suddenly, won’t he be suspicious?”

“Well, what else is she supposed to do?”

“No more of that,” Wei Wuxian scolds, barely keeping his lips from twitching as he finally thinks of another way to approach his plans to escape the Jinlintai by seducing Jin Guangyao. “Yongpei, A-Tai, you know this mistress of yours is a skilled cook?”

For once, Wei Wuxian isn’t actually pretending; he is a good cook, having learned the art at Jiang Yanli’s knee, even if he ruins all his dishes at the last moment by pouring chili oil into them. “Yes,” A-Tai replies, clearly confused. “Do you want to cook for your husband, my lady?”

“Not for my husband,” he smiles, brightening up like a summer sun cresting the horizon at daybreak as he looks at his fine-featured reflection in the mirror. “I’ve cooked for us often, so doing it again won’t mean anything much. But he has a dinner with Su-zongzhu and Zhang-zongzhu scheduled for the end of next week, so I’ll tell him I mean to cook all the dishes myself.”

“But, Mistress...!”

“Nonsense. I’ve made up my mind, and that’s what I’m going to do,” Wei Wuxian says briskly, putting away his embroidery needles. “And you two ought to get to bed, you know. It’s nearly eleven o’clock!”

It goes without saying that Wei Wuxian has no interest whatsoever in cooking for any of Jin Guangyao’s associates.

However, he does have access to a small store of hot Yunmeng spices laid aside for Jin Guangyao’s personal use, and he knows well enough that Jin Guangyao likes them--and that Su She, whose clan is native to Lan Zhan’s Suzhou, will not be able to tolerate so much as a speck of it.

(The plan goes off without a hitch, and Su She’s mouth and stomach fare so badly after eating a dish Wei Wuxian swore was meant for his husband that he has to take three rest days in the guest house to recover.)

__

“No way!” Jin Zixuan crows delightedly, as Wei Wuxian finishes narrating Su She’s unfortunate encounter with the mighty trifecta of Sichuan peppercorns, horseradish, and the spiciest chillies that Lanling gold could buy. “I wish I’d been there to see it. Who knew you could be so sneaky, Wei Wuxian?”

“It had a greater purpose,” Wei Wuxian shrugs. “I didn’t just do it for fun. I had to keep making overtures to Jin Guangyao so that he wouldn’t have any choice but to send me away when I finally tried to seduce him.”

On the other side of the campfire, Lan Zhan goes still. “Seduce?”

“Yes, of course. How else did you think that Jin-furen, wife to a zongzhu and xiandu all at once, could ever manage to get away from the Jinlintai without her husband noticing? He tried for months to placate me when I cooked him dinner and dressed in the colors he liked and proposed building a temple in Meng-furen and A-Song’s names, and then I finally had my handmaidens prepare me to receive him in my chambers and gave him the fright of his life. Smart, don’t you think?”

Lan Zhan’s face pales. “You ought not to have taken such measures,” he says hoarsely. “What if something had happened to you?”

“I’m his wife,” Wei Wuxian replies, bemused. “What could possibly have happened to me? Everyone thinks Qin Su must be barren, so no one would even try bumping me off to make sure Jin Guangyao could never have another heir. And he does care about her, you know.”

In answer, Lan Zhan only lets out a small scoff and turns his back to the fire, facing out into the night while Wei Wuxian and Jin Zixuan exchange puzzled glances over his head. “Rest, both of you,” he says quietly. “We will have to ride on towards Yunmeng in the morning, just in case that courtesan Mo-gongzi mentioned in his letter might be there.”

And then, as the three of them have done for the last month’s worth of nights they spent traveling together, Lan Zhan drifts off to sleep first, and Jin Zixuan and Wei Wuxian follow into a mist of uneasy dreams.

[blossom-hwa]

Skipping Stones - KEVIN

This was the second full scenario I ever finished for The Boyz and I think it was pretty nice to start with some soft Kevin :D THANK YOU KAI FOR LETTING ME YELL TO YOU ABOUT THIS ONE I HOPE IT LIVES UP TO YOUR EXPECTATIONS. 

Anyway! Happy (slightly early but only by a couple hours??) birthday to one of the best boys in the world, the one and only wonderful beautiful lovely Kevin Moon! I hope you all enjoy this <3 please reblog if you did!

Pairing: Kevin x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, teacher!au

Triggers: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 7.8k

Falling in love with you, Kevin thinks, is a bit like skipping stones. 

Alternatively:

Five times Kevin felt himself falling deeper in love with you, and the one time he knew he was gone.

TBZ Masterlist | Touching Stars | Breathe, and Live

prelude.

Kevin knows he exists to be clowned. His sister says it’s something about his face – there’s something undeniably meme-y about his reactions, apparently, that makes him very clownable. His students tell him it’s in his demeanor – he comes off as pretty chill, according to them, which makes him easy to tease because they know he’ll react in some hilarious way, but it won’t affect him too deeply.

(Changmin just says he’s stupid, which makes him clownable to the highest degree, but Kevin refuses to take information from the teacher who still scares him every other week with whichever horror movie mask has recently caught his fancy.)

So Kevin knows he’s just a clownable human being, and he’s resigned himself to that fate for the rest of his life. But around you? His calm, collected, hilarious, wonderful partner? He expected a little less clownery and a little more loving.

“Oh, come on,” you laugh, trying to get Kevin to turn around. Honestly, he’s already feeling the effects of withdrawal from not seeing your smile for more than a few minutes, but he refuses to budge, lips curved downwards in a semi-permanent pout. He knows he won’t be able to keep this up for long (he’ll miss looking at your face too much, and really, he can’t be mad at you about anything), but he can make a scene. “Kevin!”

“You’re so mean,” he whines, still resisting your efforts to make him look at you. “I just poured out a very embarrassing part of my childhood to you and instead of comforting me, you laugh?” His pout deepens. “I don’t know why we’re dating.”

Your hands leave the back of his shoulders. For a second, Kevin thinks you’ve given up and he’s about to start whining about that too, but then you appear in front of him, fingers clasped placatingly. “All right, all right, Kevin.” Still grinning, you grab his hands. “I won’t tease anymore. But seriously, how could you expect me not to laugh my ass off when you told me you learned to skip stones for the –” you make jazz hands, presumably to emphasize your point – “aesthetic?”

Kevin sticks his lip out childishly. “I didn’t think it was that funny,” he mumbles.

“It’s not, not really.” You squeeze his hands. “But it’s a move that’s got Kevin Moon stamped all over it.” As if to accentuate your point, you snort. “Of course you’d learn to skip stones for the aesthetic.”

“Y/N,” he whines.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Your teasing grin melts into an eager smile. “Hey, teach me?”

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

It feels like Kevin’s physically crumbling to pieces with the way your hopeful voice and sparkling eyes just attack him from all angles. Grudgingly, the deep pout on his lips stretches into a smile, the starstruck smile that all of his friends like to tease him for. “Fine, let’s go.”

He spends the rest of the afternoon stepping around small children and younger couples, trying to find suitable rocks for skipping and teaching you the right angles, the right stance, the right way to hold the stone in your hand before sending it into the water. You learn fast, something he envies – where it took him at least a couple of weeks to perfect the art, you (mostly) pick it up in a matter of hours – but he can’t feel too jealous or too bad when you look up at him after your stone skips once on the water. “Kevin, I did it!” You shake him slightly. “Did you see that?”

The softest smile spreads across Kevin’s face as he kisses your forehead softly “Yeah, I did.”

When he pulls away, you give him the brightest grin before scrambling away to find more stones to skip. Kevin just watches, taking in the way your figure looks against the setting sun, bright gold and pale pink light streaming over your body, almost making you glow.

This is why he fell in love with you, he thinks. Your character, your tenacity, the way you throw yourself into every task you’ve been assigned so that you can complete it as best as you can. It doesn’t matter if you’re trying to treat a new cancer case at the hospital or trying to skip a stupid rock across the water. You always give it your all.

Idly, Kevin picks up a stone of his own. With a practiced flick of his wrist, it goes sailing onto the lake, skipping three, four, five times before sinking beneath the surface.

Falling in love with you is a bit like skipping stones, he thinks, watching the stone disappear from sight. Someone had to force him into that first blind date with you, much like making the first toss of the stone into the water, but every skip after that was quick, effortless, the way he felt himself falling for you, step by stumbling step, until his heart finally gave in and sank below the waves of your warmth.

It’s hard to imagine a time when he wasn’t in love with you, even though such a time did at one point exist. But the way you make him feel with the smallest things you do – the way you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, the way you rest your chin on your hand in thought – it feels like he’s known you for an eternity and loved you even longer, loved you before time existed.

Your stone skips twice across the water and you shout with joy, racing up to Kevin to celebrate. He catches you when you leap at him, arms wrapping around your waist automatically, smiling into your shining face. Yes, he thinks, he’s in love.

He’s so in love with you.

. . . . .

i.

Kevin, by all definitions of the word, is panicking.

He’s been dreading this blind date for almost a month now, circling the day on his calendar and marking it D-Day, begging Jacob and Changmin to come along and hide in case he needs to be bailed out, relentlessly praying that he’ll be able to leave the stupid date in one piece.

(Look, as much as he appreciates Mrs. Park’s kindness and her brownies, she can be… a little overbearing. To say the least.)

Just a few hours ago, he was putting on his yellow sweater and bemoaning the existence of his pushy coworker. Just a few hours ago, he was lamenting his fate to his two friends (friends is a term he will use loosely for today – all they did was laugh at him). Just a few hours ago, he was cursing the existence of Mrs. Park and her brownies for getting him locked into this date with her sister’s kid. Wait, was it her sister? Or her brother?

(“Yes, her sister,” Changmin says, rolling his eyes. “Pay more attention, won’t you, Kev?”

Kevin groans. “Why couldn’t either of you be chosen by Mrs. Park, huh? Why me?”

“Because I have a partner and Jacob is good at disappearing.” Changmin grins that evil, evil grin he always has on just before he’s about to execute a prank on someone (usually Kevin).

“More like the two of you are good at leaving me to fend for myself against Mrs. Park, even though you know I can’t say no to shit,” Kevin grumbles.

“Give up her brownies,” Jacob suggests.

Kevin gasps. “No way in hell.”)

But now, he’s actually sitting across from you in a café not too far from his apartment, holding a cup of coffee between his (visibly shaking) hands. And he can’t even think of why he was dreading this date so much because you’re just… really, really perfect.

Why are you so sweet? he’s screaming inside. Why are you so funny? Why are you literally the perfect mix of snark and kindness and just – everything?

“So my aunt told me you work with her,” you say, seemingly oblivious to Kevin’s jitters. The smile on your face is really sending electricity racing through his heart. “I know the children must be fun, but I know she can be a bit… overbearing.” There’s a hint of apology in your eyes, like you know your aunt must have pressured him into this and you’re sorry that he had to come on a date with you.

Kevin’s stomach flip-flops. Okay, so Mrs. Park maybe did severely pressure and sweetly blackmail Kevin into a blind date. But Kevin also doesn’t want you to feel bad for it because it’s not your fault at all, so as usual, when he finds himself in a tight spot, his mouth decides it’s time to run.

“No, your aunt is really nice,” he starts. “I really mean it – she’s always very kind to the kids and to the rest of us teachers. I’m still kind of new compared to the rest of them – I’ve only been at the school for a few years now – but she helped me feel welcome that first year when I was still figuring things out. And she also likes Beyonce! You know, the greatest female artist there is? She let me play my entire playlist of Beyonce songs for her last year and she liked every single one of them!”

Kevin’s babbling now. Rambling. Whatever he wants to call it. His brain is screaming for him to stop talking but his mouth won’t stop running because this is what he does when he’s nervous. He talks. Endlessly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the table where Changmin and Jacob are situated in case they need to rescue him from mental or physical harm. The top of Changmin’s head is barely visible behind a huge menu so Kevin can barely see his friend, but somewhere in his babbling haze, he notices a phone camera poking out from behind the menu.

If he wasn’t blushing before, he definitely is now.

Finally, his mouth listens to his brain and he trails off on his last thought on why Beyonce is the best artist in the entire world. There’s a second of silence.

“Sorry,” Kevin finally squeaks. “I… tend to ramble when I get nervous. Or when I talk about Beyonce.”

Your smile flashes even wider. Kevin is torn between wanting to melt into the ground out of embarrassment and staying upright to keep seeing that grin on your face. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you laugh, fiddling with your cup of coffee. “I thought it was cute.”

Kevin’s face burns so much that he misses what you say next. “Sorry?”

You grin. “I’m always interested in hearing about a new artist to add to my playlist.”

Kevin lets out a theatrical gasp. “You don’t have Beyonce in your music library?”

A sheepish look spreads across your face. “… No?”

“Oh my God.” Kevin pulls out his phone. “Okay, I’m about to educate you on the artist of our time.”

The afternoon, then, passes in a flash. Changmin and Jacob eventually just up and exit the café (presumably with enough blackmail to last the rest of Kevin’s life – he knows he was acting like a complete fool, but luckily, you didn’t seem to care), leaving him alone with you. Under any other circumstances, he probably would’ve started crying, but you’re so sweet and so interesting that Kevin thinks he could stay and talk to you in this café forever.

He learns you’re an oncologist at a nearby children’s hospital, that even though the work is hard and tiring and sometimes overwhelmingly depressing, the strength of the children and the families you work with inspire you to keep going every day. He learns that you don’t have too much of a sweet tooth (though you won’t say no to ice cream or cheesecake, both of which he notes in his head), he learns that you love coffee, and he learns that you like to take walks in the park whenever you have a little bit of free time.

He also learns that you’re snarky, intelligent, driven, hardworking. He learns that you’re something far beyond the beauty of your face – that underneath your skin, there’s a heart that’s warmer than the sun.

Kevin understands that this is only the first date and that he maybe shouldn’t be making judgments so quickly. But he’s been told that he’s a relatively good judge of character, and the genuine look in your eyes when you talks speaks volumes about the person deep inside.

Even though you live further away, Kevin takes the bus with you to your home, citing that it’s only polite to walk one’s date to the door (in reality, he just wants to spend a little more time with you). As the bus rattles along the road, Kevin lets you listen to the songs on his phone, delighting in the way your head bobs to the beat of his favorite tracks.

Kevin’s a bit sad when you reach your apartment, sad that your time together is over for the day. He lingers outside the building for a moment, trying to work up the courage to ask about a second date.

Suddenly, you lean forward. Kevin jerks back – he briefly wonders if you’re trying to kiss him – but you just pat a spot on his sweater, frowning slightly at your fingers. “Is that… paint?”

Oh my God.

Kevin tugs the material of his sweater forward so he can see the spot you’re pointing at. Sure enough, there’s a small patch of red paint on the yellow fuzz. He groans. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Well, that’s what people like us get for working with children.” You roll your eyes comically, and Kevin bursts into laughter that’s definitely too loud for the small joke you made. Then silence falls again.

You break it. “Listen, Kevin.”

He perks up. “Hmm?”

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this date because my aunt has been trying to set me up with people my age for several years now.” For the first time today, you look shy. “She was probably really pushy with you too, so I’m sorry about that. But I really enjoyed this afternoon.” You meet Kevin’s eyes. “If you’d like, I’d love to go on a second date.”

Kevin’s heart explodes. It really does. Sheer excitement courses through his veins, and he has to stop himself from smiling widely enough to mimic a god damn clown. “I’d love that,” he says trying to hide how eager he really is. “Um, I’ll say that I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this either, mostly because my experience with blind dates has had… limited success. But I’m really glad I met you. You’re a wonderful person.”

Your smile grows wider at Kevin’s admission. “Thank you, Kevin. You’re wonderful too.”

“Do you kiss on the first date?” he blurts out because his brain has no filter. Then he backtracks. “Um, it’s totally okay if you don’t, I was just asking, please don’t think I’m a creep –”

You briefly press your lips to his. Kevin shuts up.

When you break away, Kevin honestly thinks you’re glowing. “Does that answer your question?” you ask, bravely trying to hide something – is that embarrassment? Whatever it is, he thinks it’s adorable.

Kevin blushes. “Yes.”

People probably think he’s insane with the way he’s smiling on the bus ride back to his apartment. He can’t help it, though – the tingling touch of your lips, gentle against his, plays over and over in his mind, along with memories of your lovely voice and your lovely smile and your lovely, lovely disposition. Some people are giving him weird looks, and Jacob and Changmin are sure to tease him to no end when he comes in to work tomorrow.

But who cares? Kevin’s got a second date in the works with one of the most wonderful people he’s ever met.

In his mind, he’s on top of the world.

. . . . .

ii.

Usually, when Kevin gets lucky and scores a second date or a third, he suggests taking his date somewhere with children to gauge how they feel about small toddlers tearing up the place. Children are a huge part of Kevin’s life – he teaches elementary school and knows he wants kids when he gets a bit older – so one of the silent standards he’s set for potential significant others is that they have to like and be good with children.

You work at a children’s hospital, Kevin knows, so you must at least be good with kids, even if you might not like them (hey, it’s possible – Kevin has known many people who are good at things they hate). That fulfills half of the standard. He just needs to gauge the other half.

There aren’t many events at the school coming up, though – no plays, no art exhibitions, nothing he can really invite you to. He’s racking his brains for a third date somehow involving children when you unexpectedly call him about an event at the hospital.

“I know it’s last minute,” you apologize profusely, “but the guy who was supposed to come today for the kids’ music hour called in sick. I don’t want to cancel the event because they always look forward to it and I know you play the piano – would it be possible for you to fill in?”

It is possible, it turns out. He may not be able to pack his Yamaha upright into the back of your car, but he does have an electronic keyboard that fits into your trunk. The whole way there, you’re apologizing, but between reassurances that it’s totally fine, Kevin can’t help but anticipate how you’ll act around the children once the two of you arrive.

Setting up takes more time than he’d like (the extension cord that comes with his keyboard is too short, so you disappear on a twenty-minute manhunt for a longer one while Kevin just stands there awkwardly), which makes him feel slightly like a burden on the rest of your coworkers. They’re so polite, though, so genuine and kind, that Kevin eventually starts to feel more at ease.

(He’s still endlessly grateful when you return, extension cord clasped victoriously in one hand.)

Then the kids start trickling in, and Kevin’s heart immediately both breaks and melts. Some are in wheelchairs, others have lost their hair, but they’re all smiling with so much excitement, chattering to their parents and the staff around them as they settle on beanbags and pillows on the floor. Several look at him curiously and he smiles at them, prompting several questions about who he is, why there’s a keyboard and not a guitar, and why the normal guy isn’t here.

“The usual guy got sick and couldn’t come,” Kevin says to one sweet girl with chubby cheeks and shining eyes. “I’m just here to replace him for a day.”

“Do you play the piano?” she asks, shyly pointing at the keyboard, which more than a few curious souls are standing around.

Kevin smiles. “Yes, I do.” He would say more, maybe offer to show her the instrument a little, but then you’re walking over, and her eyes brighten. “Dr. L/N!” she cheers.

With a loud laugh, you swoop her up carefully, cradling the girl against your shoulder. “How are you, Daeun?” you ask, lips spread in a smile that Kevin knows can’t be faked.

The girl – Daeun – grins. “I’ve been good!” she announces proudly. “Are we going to start soon?”

You laugh again, settling her back down on the floor. Kevin thinks his heart melts with the way your eyes sparkle. “Yes, we are,” you say. “I see you’ve already met Kevin?”

“Your name is Kevin?” Daeun looks at him curiously. “Your name is strange.”

Kevin has to force himself not to coo. “I was born in Canada,” he says. “My Korean name is Hyungseo.”

Daeun’s nose scrunches. “I like Kevin more,” she decides with finality.

Kevin feels brave enough to pat her on the head. “Then you can call me Kevin.”

“All right, Daeun. Go find your mom, okay? Kevin and I are going to finish setting up, and then we’ll get started.” With a soft kiss on the forehead (Kevin makes a sound he really hopes you don’t hear – the scene is just too adorable), you send the small girl off, turning back to Kevin. “Shall we get started?” you ask, grinning widely.

It may only be the third date, but he’s falling in love, Kevin thinks, falling in love with your shining face and sparkling eyes, with the way you shower love upon the children you’ve placed under your care. Right now, you’re everything he’s ever wanted in a future partner – beautiful in character, kind, gentle, fiercely loving.

His heart pounds a little faster.

Belatedly, Kevin realizes you’re waiting for a response and nods quickly. “Yeah,” he breathes, eyes glancing over the sea of children waiting (somewhat) patiently. A smile to rival yours spreads across his face. “Let’s get started.”

. . . . .

iii.

Kevin loves the last Friday of every month, he really does. It’s been tradition for several years now to go out with Changmin and Jacob on what he calls nights for “the boyz” to eat cheap food and get drunk. And no matter how much the others complain about the stupid name (Kevin will admit it sounds stupid now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll change it), he knows they enjoy the nights all the same.

Sometimes, though, Kevin just wishes he had more of a filter on his mouth. If not that, then maybe his brain could stop remembering every single dumb thing he said or did on drunk nights out. It would make his life a lot easier if he could just forget being stupid.

But no, God decided to be mean when making Kevin Moon. So Kevin, as a result, is an emotional drunk. He cries a lot when he hears about sad or adorable things, he says a lot of stupid stuff to (badly) express his overwhelming feelings, and worst of all, he remembers all of it when he wakes up hungover the next morning.

(None of this stops him from getting drunk anyway. Kevin Moon doesn’t learn lessons when it comes to alcohol. When he falls on his face (sometimes literally), he just gets up again, even if it’s with a bloody nose.)

Luckily, the night doesn’t end in chaos. Even though Jacob, who’s half of Kevin’s impulse control, leaves after an hour (he’s meeting with his family the next day, so Kevin is obligated call him a noob – it’s like a law of physics or something), Changmin doesn’t seem to be in the mood to do weird things without Jacob there to stop him, so the night passes relatively smoothly without Kevin throwing, like, a tantrum or anything.

He gets close, though. Because damn, if Changmin isn’t so fucking adorable when talking about his partner. Buried in his purple hoodie, black hair peeking softly over the top, it’s impossible for Kevin not to tear up when Changmin begins gushing over his beautiful, amazing, wonderful significant other whom he just compared to stardust.

Stardust.

Kevin wants to scream, that’s so romantic.

When you come to pick him and Changmin up, Kevin can’t resist relaying all of this to you as soon as he gets in the car. Vaguely, he thinks he should be worried about Changmin hearing it and hitting him, but the boy is mostly asleep in the back, eyes only fluttering slightly when you go over a bump or something. After Changmin gets dropped off at his apartment, Kevin turns the gushing on full force.

“Y/N, the love of my life, he called her stardust,” he’s still babbling even as you strongarm him up to his own apartment. “He’s so adorable. Changmin is so adorable. Oh my God.”

He thinks you snort. Probably. It would be a normal response. “Didn’t you call him the spawn of Satan just a few days ago?”

Definitely a snort, Kevin thinks, but he’s too invested in Changmin’s loveliness to whine about you making fun of him. “Y/N,” he pouts instead, “listen to meeeeee.”

“I’m listening, I’m listening.” You grunt, catching him just as he misses the next step and almost falls forward. “Hey, be careful.”

“’M trying.” Kevin manfully does his best to stop the world from tilting on its side. “But Changminnie.”

“Yes, yes, Changminnie.” Even drunk, Kevin can make out the playful exasperation in your voice. “Keep going.”

“Thank you, love of my life.” Kevin tries to give you a kiss but his lips hit air instead of your cheek. “Heck.”

You burst into loud laughter. “Kevin Moon, you never told me you were this adorable when drunk.”

“Changminnie,” he says more insistently.

“Okay, yes, I’m listening.” You kiss his cheek instead, and Kevin almost topples over right then and there. “Hey, you can’t fall over whenever I kiss you. Tell me about Changmin.”

Kevin starts flailing his arms around as best he can. “He’s so cute!” he half-yells. “He told me his partner was like stardust because she’s so perfect and warm, but she’s also like stardust because… because…”

His lip juts out.

“Oh, no, don’t cry, Kev.” You stop moving, then Kevin registers you bundling him into a hug, patting his head. “I know you’re a sad emotional drunk, but don’t cry.”

“Not crying,” Kevin protests, visibly crying.

“Mhm.” You pat his head one last time before letting go. “Hey, give me a second, I’m going to unlock your door.”

There’s some fumbling and a quiet snick, then Kevin obediently follows you through the door of his apartment. Once inside, you press a thumb to the side of his face, brushing a tear away. “Tell me what Changmin said to make you sad.”

“Changminnie said he’s afraid she’ll… she’ll… slip away between his fingers. Like stardust.” Kevin feels like he’s going to start sobbing any moment now. “He’s afraid she’s going to leave him eventually because she’s too perfect and he’s not good enough.”

“Oh my God.” You sit down on the couch. Kevin follows suit, albeit a lot more ungracefully as he collapses onto a cushion in a tangle of limbs. “Oh my God, that’s so sad and cute at the same time.”

“I said he should call her his star,” Kevin mumbles, turning slightly so he can burrow into your side. “Because stardust. Texted them about it. Both of them.”

Your laugh sounds like music even to the drunken haze of his brain. “Wonder what they’ll think when they see a drunken keysmash on their phones first thing tomorrow morning.”

The two of you sit in silence for a bit. Kevin feels his eyes beginning to get droopy, and he almost falls asleep before a thought strikes him with lightning force.

“I need to give you a nickname!” he almost yells, sitting bolt upright. The movement makes the room spin, but he doesn’t care. This is urgent. “Changmin’s going to call her his star, but I haven’t given you a nickname yet!”

“Kev, Kev.” You hold him by the shoulders, and he relaxes a little. “You can come up with a nickname for me in the morning. Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

“No,” he whines, shifting in your grip. “This is important. You need a nickname.” He sinks into deep, drunken thoughts, the kinds of thoughts he has when he ignores everything around him in favor of getting philosophical after having drunk too much alcohol.

Then it hits him.

“Oh my God,” he gasps. “Oh my God.” It’s his turn to grab you by the shoulders, now. “Oh my God. You’re the sun. Because I’m the moon. Get it? Kevin Moon?”

Through his drunken haze, Kevin thinks he sees you smile, maybe. It looks like a smile.

Your eyes are sparkling. You look happy.

Probably a smile.

“I’m a genius,” he whispers. A genius for coming up with the nickname and for making you happy.

“Sure, Kevin.” You grunt a little as he shifts his weight. “Come on, get up. We’ll see if you’re still a genius tomorrow if you wake up and remember all of this.”

Kevin doesn’t register much for the rest of the night, just remembers falling into his bed and forcing you to lie down next to him. The next morning, he wakes up with a throbbing headache and the vague, ever-present worry that he said something stupid last night.

You’re not in the bed with him anymore. Kevin blinks once, twice, before trying to sit up so to figure out where you went. Then he remembers you don’t live here. You probably went home.

Which is why he nearly goes into cardiac arrest when you appear in his doorway, holding a mug of coffee and a glass of water.

For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other. Kevin’s not sure what thoughts are running through your head, but he knows he’s trying to piece together what happened last night, and whether or not he should be hiding under the covers out of embarrassment.

Then it hits him.

Sun.

Moon.

Genius.

Oh, God.

Kevin wants to die.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, using your new nickname in the desperate hope that it’ll distract you from remembering the rest of what he said last night.

A catlike smirk curls your lips as you walk over, pressing the glass of water into his hands. A feeling of dread fills Kevin’s heart as he takes it.

“Morning, genius,” you say with enough evil delight to power Changmin for a year.

Kevin groans. “I was drunk.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Your teasing smile melts into something gentler as you place your mug on the bedside table, turning to bring the glass of water in his hands to his lips. “Coffee’s mine, don’t touch it or I’ll break a bone. Drink the water. I made some breakfast, so come into the kitchen whenever you feel up to it. After you’ve brushed your teeth.”

Warmth courses through Kevin’s body, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol from last night and everything to do with how you’re here in body and mind, sweetly helping him recover from a stupid hangover even when it’s definitely not your problem to take care of and you probably have better things to do. His heart thumps, loud enough that he thinks you could probably hear it.

In this moment, Kevin doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful for anything than you coming into his life.

“Got it.” He awkwardly tries to salute, but he does it with the hand holding the glass and the water nearly spills onto the bed. As his cheeks flush, you break into snorting giggles.

Even though it’s at his expense, Kevin thinks he would do anything, anything in the world, to keep that wonderful smile on your face and that musical laughter in the air.

. . . . .

iv.

Only when you move in together does Kevin realize just how taxing your job is. He had an idea from when you sometimes had to cancel or move around dates, but when you did meet up, you were usually energetic and cheerful. Of course, there were the token dates where you just came over to Kevin’s apartment or he came over to yours and you just flopped around for a few hours. Outside, though, you always showed a bright face.

But that was because dates were mostly on your days off or when your hours were short, and as a result, you felt good enough, energized enough to show Kevin your brilliant smile. When you first moved in together, Kevin felt a bit surprised – well, maybe not surprised, but saddened – that you didn’t have the energy to smile as brightly as he saw before.

It’s fine by Kevin, though. You smile often enough, and if your teeth don’t show as much as they used to, there’s something beautiful, something calming and sweet in the slower curve of your lips, the gentle, lethargic way you lean up for a kiss. After all, Kevin has enough energy to compensate for when you might lack some of yours.

(It helps that he can cook, he thinks. Even when the kids at school sometimes wear him out, the brief sparkle in your eye that spreads across your lips when you walk through the door to see him stirring something on the stove is more than enough to make up for it.)

You’re cute, too, when you’re tired. Though Kevin loves it when you’re energetic and ready for whatever the day has decided to throw in your path, there’s something so peaceful, so pleasant about feeling you lying lethargically against his side on the couch, scrolling through your phone or reading a book or just resting, doing nothing but breathing softly. Kevin cherishes those small moments, the soft atmosphere where he kisses your hair and you smile, reach up, and press a kiss of your own to his cheek.

Tonight is one of those nights, a night of soft, comforting silence, words few and far between. It’s been a bit warm lately, so Kevin’s elected to wear one of the tank tops he keeps for the warmer months instead of his usual sweater.

You sit next to him on the couch, back pressed to his side as you send off emails on your phone. Kevin’s working too, inputting grades on his laptop. He hums a little under his breath to take his mind off of the monotony of his task.

At some point, you finish, putting down your phone with a sigh and slumping into his ribs. Kevin starts at the sudden movement. “Sunshine,” he whines, even though he could really care less.

“Moon boy,” you parrot in the same tone of voice.

Kevin’s attention turns back to his laptop, so he barely registers you shifting on the couch to a new position. He does notice it, though, when your fingers start trailing along his skin, exposed by the lack of sleeves on his tank top, because your touch tickles.

You completely ignore his resulting twitch of surprise, only keep tracing the skin of his rib cage. Kevin looks down, confused as to what’s caught your attention.

Oh. His tattoos.

“Sunshine?” he asks softly, watching your fingers shift along his skin.

“Mm,” you hum, eyes still fixated on the ink decorating his side.

“Sleepy?”

Slowly, you shake your head, fingers paused on the image of Mickey Mouse. “Not yet.”

He goes back to inputting grades, all the while still aware of your fingers tracing the lines, the curls, the swirls of black ink along his side. When he finishes, he looks over before closing his laptop to see your eyes still focused on his skin.

Something in his heart explodes, spreading a tingly, comforting warmth throughout his body. It’s a feeling he’s come to associate with your presence, a feeling of absolute security, absolute trust, absolute warmth that comes with falling in love with you.

You look up, noticing his lack of movement. “Finished, moonbeams?”

“First moon boy, now moonbeams?” Kevin teases you lightly, picking up the hand you were using to trace his skin and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. Just like every other time he’s ever done it, a wide smile spreads across your face and a shyness sparkles in your eyes, as though you still can’t believe the bliss of the moment.

(At least, that’s what Kevin feels every time you do something to remind him that he’s yours.)

Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Can’t call you moonshine, that’s an alcohol.” You shrug as best as you can in your stretched-out position. “Moonbeams, moon boy… whatever feels right.”

Kevin puts his laptop on the coffee table. As he leans back into the couch, you curl up into him, one hand still lingering against the Mickey Mouse tattoo on his side. “Tell me about these?” you ask, pressing your fingers a bit more firmly against the ink.

His tattoos are personal, serving as reminders of the past and inspiration to keep moving. Rarely does he share their meanings with anyone (not that people usually ask, because the tattoos are mostly covered by his clothes), and only with those who mean the world to him.

Kevin thinks you qualify as one of them.

Touching your shoulders, he turns you around slightly, just enough to press a short, sweet kiss to the top of your head. “Of course, sunshine.” He smiles, gazing into your eyes, feeling the warmth of your love travel through his limbs. “Which one first?”

. . . . .

v.

Kevin Moon, for the majority of his life, has hovered in between being classified as a morning person or a night owl. Yes, he gets up at six in the morning for a cup of coffee, but he also stays up past midnight doing… stuff. Grading, writing reports, watching cat videos, wasting time.

(When Changmin judges his lifestyle, Kevin just reminds him that he fell in love with his roommate’s hookup and is on a dance team with the parent of one of his students.)

Honestly, if Kevin didn’t remind himself every so often that he’s currently a full adult, his lifestyle would make him think he was still in college. He certainly still acts like it when he isn’t working. Procrastinating? Check. Crying over reports he needs to submit at three a.m.? Check. Flopping around on the floor when life is going badly? Check.

And most importantly: nonexistent sleep schedule? Check.

You put a stop to that real quick when you move in, both directly and indirectly. Directly, you make an appointment for him at a sleep clinic after figuring out his shitty sleep patterns, and Kevin finds out he probably has mild insomnia. The aftermath is horrible – you put him on a strict sleep schedule and all but ban caffeine from his diet (goodbye, morning coffee) – but it helps, after a couple of weeks. He sleeps better. Perks of having a partner who works in medicine.

Indirectly, though, you probably make a bigger difference.

See, the way Kevin thinks about it, he just never had a lot of reasons to stay in bed very long. Even though he appreciates sleep, really appreciates it on long days, it’s just that he can’t really force it if it doesn’t want to come. He’d also rather be doing something productive (or not productive, depends on the asker’s perspective) than lying awake for hours, anyway.

But now that he’s waking up to a face he loves?

Well, even if you sometimes disappear before he wakes (hospital hours are whack as hell, but sadly, you can’t ignore your job), Kevin will just say your warmth is a powerful incentive to stay huddled under the covers, even if he can’t fall back asleep.

He still wakes up every morning to grey light beginning to peek through the window. No matter how hard he tries to sleep in just a little longer, his body can’t seem to stay unconscious past six in the morning, so both of you have just resigned yourselves to the fact that Kevin will always be an early riser.

Before you walked into his life, he would’ve rolled out of bed almost immediately, stumbled to the bathroom (and maybe knocked his knee against the doorframe, who knows), then started brewing coffee in the kitchen to start the day.

Now?

A drowsy smile begins to make its way across Kevin’s face, soft as the morning light, when his brain catches up to the present and he registers your warmth under the covers. Sleepily, he blinks, taking in the sight of your peaceful face buried halfway in the sheets.

You shouldn’t look this beautiful, Kevin thinks, not with your hair strewn all over the pillow, blankets rumpled around your shoulders, arms outstretched so that one sort of curls over his body while the other is held up to your chest. It’s the morning – no one should look pretty and put-together. That isn’t natural.

(Unless you happy to be Kim Younghoon, but that’s another story.)

Yet you somehow look like a sleeping deity in Kevin’s mind, even with your hair a mess and drool drying on the pillowcase. As the drowsiness clears from his eyes, as the light from the window grows brighter, Kevin can barely even think of moving, of disturbing your peace.

He dislikes your alarm. It’s loud, annoying, and hits him with a jolt when he’s just trying to take these stolen morning moments to admire your beauty. When he complains about it the first time, you tell him to serve as the alarm, to wake you up himself.

Kevin counters that he’s an artist, that he needs peace and quiet to give beauty of such a degree the respect it deserves. You just roll your eyes, telling him that if he isn’t going to wake you up, the alarm’s going to have to take that job. The smile on your face, though, and the brief kiss you press to his lips right after, speaks volumes for the emotions Kevin’s words make you feel.

(He loves flustering you like this, even if you pretend his words don’t make you feel some sort of way.)

So eventually, you wake, eyes fluttering as the alarm brings you back to the conscious plane. Kevin’s heart feels like it’s bursting when your eyes fully open, blearily blinking at the world.

“Morning, sunshine,” he whispers, running one hand through your hair.

You lean slightly into the touch, the corners of your lips twitching up. And every day, as he stares into your sleepy eyes, lips curling as you whisper a quiet “Morning, moon boy” in reply, Kevin knows he’s falling, falling in love with every part of you.

. . . . .

+i.

Kevin’s waiting in front of the school when you pull up at the curb. Smiling apologetically, he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek as you step out of the car. “Sorry, sunshine.” He gestures at the two small boys standing beside him, absorbed in their own world. “Their uncle’s running late and Changmin and Jacob have things to do, so I need to wait for Sangyeon to pick them up before we can go.”

“No worries.” You return the kiss, smiling as bright as the sun. Kevin feels a flash of pride for coming up with a nickname that fits you so well. “We have the whole afternoon, don’t we?”

“That, we do.” He grins, squeezing your hand.

“Mr. Moon, who’s that?” a small voice asks closer to the ground. The two of you turn to see Sunwoo and Eric trotting over, curious looks on their faces.

Kevin looks over at you, but you’re already bending down to get to eye level with the two boys. “Oh, hello!” Your grin, if possible, grows wider. “I’m Y/N, Kevin’s significant other. What are your names?”

“I’m Eric,” Eric pipes up. “This is my brother, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo just stares with round eyes. Well, he’s always been the shyer of the two.

“Those are lovely names,” you reply smoothly, giving Sunwoo an encouraging smile. Kevin feels his heart melt completely at how well you interact with the kids. “I’m just going to be waiting with Kevin until your uncle picks you up, is that okay?”

The two kids nod and immediately go back to babbling in their own little world. Kevin notices the fond smile on your face, and his heart melts even more.

“They’re so cute,” you whisper to him.

“I know, right?” Kevin clutches his heart dramatically. “Can you imagine teaching them every day?”

Just as you’re shaking your head in comic disbelief, another car pulls up behind yours. A harried-looking young man quickly exits and Eric and Sunwoo cheer, distracted by the arrival of their uncle.

“Sorry about this,” Sangyeon says, absentmindedly patting Eric’s head as the boy hugs his leg. Sunwoo seems to be attempting to climb onto his uncle’s back. “Traffic wasn’t the kindest when I was getting out of work.” Then he notices you. “Oh, hello. Are you Kevin’s partner?”

“That I am.” You stick out a hand. “I’m Y/N, and I’ve been told you’re Sangyeon?”

Sangyeon nods, smiling. “Nice to meet you. And to see that Kevin’s found someone to deal with his antics.”

Kevin blushes as you laugh. “Hey,” he complains. “No jokes at my expense, please.”

“Sure, moonbeams.” You roll your eyes, then turn back to Sangyeon. “It’s nice to meet you. Your nephews are adorable.”

The smile that Sangyeon gives the two boys clambering around him says it all. “They are, aren’t they?” He checks his watch. “I’m sorry, I have to go now. My sister’s expecting us back soon, and I’m already a bit late.”

Kevin breathes a sigh of relief. No more teasing at his expense from Sangyeon, at least, though there’s no guarantee from you. “Nice seeing you, Sangyeon. And have a good day, kids.”

A small chorus of “You too, Mr. Moon!” sounds, and Kevin expects that to be the end. Sangyeon will herd the boys into the car, Kevin will follow you into yours, and then you’ll go your separate ways. What he doesn’t expect is for Sunwoo to look out at you from behind his uncle’s leg, round eyes cautiously curious, and ask you a question.

“Y/N?”

Immediately, you turn around, teasing smirk melting into a gentle smile for the small boy. “Yes, Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo’s eyes dart between you and Kevin. Then, softly, shyly – “Do you love Mr. Moon?”

Time seems to stop as Kevin’s breath hitches in his throat at the sudden question, but you only look back at him, eyes soft and sparkling in the sunlight. 

Your answer glitters in your gaze.

Though you’re supposed to be talking to Sunwoo, your eyes stay fixed on Kevin, strong and unyielding, yet gentle and affectionate, as you answer. Your voice is soft when you reply. “Yes, Sunwoo. I do love him.” The smile on your face grows wider as you turn back to the child. “I love him very much.”

Indescribable warmth floods Kevin’s chest and tears prick his eyes. And as Sangyeon hurries his nephews away, as you turn around to unlock your car, one truth burns with absolute, crystal-clear certainty in his mind.

He isn’t falling in love with you, not anymore. No, he’s far past that stage.

Kevin Moon is completely, wholly, irrevocably in love with you.

“Kevin?” You look at him from the other side of the car. “You coming?”

A wide grin spreads across his face as he meets your sparkling eyes. Love blooms in his chest.

“Coming, sunshine.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for kevin’s whipped ass ksjdkgsdhjk)

[imalwaystiredzzz]

C2: Sisyphus happy. Yan Zhongli x Reader

Warning: Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationships

< Sisyphus happy. chapters >

“Perhaps you would fear if you saw me, and love is all I ask. There is a necessity that keeps me hidden now. Only believe.” - Cupid and Psyche ══════════════════════════════════

You have a dream; heavy and looming as you carry a boulder on your fragile back. It dares to crush you under its weight, while you trudge up a steep path towards the peak of this mountain. The sun glares with its heat like a guard set to watch your endless labor, sweat trickles down like rain on your skin as you pray for water. 

The relief comes in the form of waking from this endless dream.

Breath. Breath. Breath. You breath as if your lungs were crushed and you had drowned in earth, wondering why the familiar pain of doing so was gone. “Slowly,” smooth like velvet and deep that it reverberates to your being, your dear husband hushes next to you observing for any hint - even a twitch - that you might need help. 

“I felt like I had a really long dream,” you say, sitting up from the warm sheets of your shared bed. 

“Care to tell me what it is about?” He is the epitome of patience practiced and perfected, waiting for your reply; though try as you might to remember what it was, the dream had long  slipped from your mind like sand held between cupped hands, flowing and flowing until nothing is left.

“Have I been asleep long?” Voice groggy and eyes a bit blinded by the light, small hands felt the sheets on his side, the warmth and ghost of his form long gone, your dutiful husband, always awake and dressed before you even rouse from slumber. 

Zhongli leans toward you, his gloved fingers graze your cheeks with tenderness only to tuck a strand behind your ear and it is warm as the morning sun that rises on your window. “It’s alright, I know that you need rest after our move.”

You blush, heart soaring like a pure maiden in love with her suitor even though it is none other than your husband who gives you his full attention. It’s supposed to be endearing. It is endearing. Yet there is an ache at the back of your head, that something is amiss.

His fingers, barely touching your skin, made you think of claws, long and sharp, shining with polish. You brush it aside, under the bed long forgotten in the dark, while you would begin your routine. 

You could say that a day does not begin when you wake, rather it is when you make his tea.

He once told you that brewing is an art no less than painting or writing, it is not a matter of simply sprinkling leaves on a clay pot. It is a meditation and a ceremony practiced to bring forth a harmony of earth and water.

You take his words to heart. You take almost all his words to heart and memorize them the way he recites poems to you before bed. You command air to bring forth an aroma that allures the butterflies and with practiced elegance, you hold the Yixing teapot to pour him his cup while Zhongli is nothing but a spectator to this show.  

There are no words exchanged before he sips. It is a little game between you and him, a show of trust you would like to think. Even the heavens could not imagine Zhongli take abhorrent food, not even for his wife.  

He is nothing but an expert, listing the leaves you secretly used and the flavor in full detail like a practiced line from a play. You’d wager that had he been blessed to borne out of better parents, had he been blessed with a better standing rather than a son of a merchant who had a herbalist like you for a wife, he would have stood as the finest in a world of history and art with those deft amber eyes that miss nothing.

Not even the way you look as he leaves through that door with a kiss. 

A kiss of parting as you wave him goodbye, the wind whispering that this is not your simple husband, who goes down the mountain to sell herbs and trade merchandise in the city. He is your foreign husband, who disappears from your presence and hides a secret deeper than the mines the humans could hope to till.

But who is to listen to the wind? Zhongli tells you that it is nothing but your active imagination and you are nothing but (Y/n) (l/n), a herbalist, who belongs to the soil.

This thought repeats in your head like a broken record and rings in your ear. 

It is spring now, you remember looking up and thanking the clouds and the lush leaves of the tree that hide the harsh glare of the afternoon sun. The grass was evergreen and the wind smell of the oncoming summer heat, fragrant with flowers that bloom in the wild.

In spring, he tells you that a gardener is happy for the harvest is abundant and the lands teems with life. In spring, you should be happy.

The plants are alive and they grow easy, they are not shriveled by the summer heat nor do they hide under the ground because of the winter. The flowers and herbs bloom, almost too perfectly as if the little pots were visited by the dendro archcon themselves in your sleep. 

You are (Y/n) (l/n). In spring, you should be alive.

Yet cannot help but notice the absence of the worms nor ants that you once complained about. Once upon a time, you would be maneuvering them all throughout the day away from the lush green leaves and bountiful earth. And sometimes your imagination would play tricks and whispers of their avoidance.

“What cruel little pest,” you tell the soil while planting new seeds until the sun goes down and hides from the skies, when you light the lamps in the house, but most especially by the door, red and glowing like a star against the vast darkness of this lonely mountain.

Hoping, praying that this simple light will lead him back, if he might ever be lost in the shadows in the road. 

Even before he walks through the door, your ears are listening to the whispers of the air that carries his footsteps as it taps the ground so when he opens the door, you are there with a warm welcoming smile and a kiss to his cheeks, heart calm as you know he is safe and he is here. He is home.

You should laugh, really. Your husband who has mapped this mountain like the back of his hand would never be lost but the anxiousness of it never fades. A perpetual worrier, he would call you with eyes lost, staring at yet never really seeing. You know that he has his moments, he doesn’t mean to show, it is fleeting as it comes and no more than a blink of an eye hence you blink and pretend that you don’t see and lead him by the hand to the table neatly set and filled with warm food. 

You dine as he talks about the people he has met and worked with in the city, how the land has begun to thrive and the mora flowing. He tells you of a harbor, where boats are ever growing in size as the days go by and the merchants travelling to do business within it. As far as you can remember, there was never dinner where Zhongli does not talk endlessly about the city - always proud yet humble like a poem, you would think that he talks about it like a child of his own.

“I wonder when will I see the lights of the city from here.” You don’t know what compelled you to say this, maybe it was the stories that he never ceased to tell, maybe it was the lantern that still hung lit outside and darkness that encloses it like a sky with a single star. He pauses,  struck and still as a statue, he looks at you in a way that you have never seen before. 

This smile is is not warm as the morning sun when you wake; it is not tight and constricted when he leaves; nor is it practiced the way it would fall so easily on his visage like a mask; rather this smile dims the glow in his amber eyes and wrinkles the skin akin to sadness and guilt held back.

He reaches for your hand on the other side of the table and kisses it, tenderly, gently as if you are glass that would break with a tap and this is his silent promise that you feel would never come to fruition, “Maybe one day when you are feeling better.” 

The routine ends when your dear husband leads you to bed, the fire closed and you are both in the dark. Tonight he kisses you with unhinged passion, holding unto your small form against him like you were about to disappear into thin air and he is a stone cage. 

“Is it so selfish of me to keep you by my side and never want to let go?” 

He asked barely a whisper above your skin, like a prayer to a god that never answers while the only thing on your heart was pity for your dear husband’s deep sadness, who was an embodiment tragedy that could make you cry.

Had you been born with a stronger body, maybe then you could promise him tomorrow and the rest of your days yet you are nothing but ephemeral so you don’t speak; simply hold his arms, firm and hard under your touch briefly wondering why you thought of scales, mighty and solid as the unblemished core lapis from deep underneath.  Under your fingertips he is foreign yet familiar, in every wrong and right way possible. “You have enraptured me, body and soul. I will always love you, even after I have long passed”

“Is that what it means to love”

“That is what it means to be human.” 

You fall asleep, long before he does. He holds your hand, tightly. 

Step by step by step. An endless walk as you contemplate: why? What sin so great that you have committed for this to be an equal torture. And yet even as millennium of wondering have passed you don’t know, rather you’ve forgotten, memories and thoughts lost in the pain that seeps into the bone, desert in your throat and the eyes that cannot see the peak of this mountain you climb.

[hacked-by-jake]

Jake gets infuriated when he sees mc (Natasha) is giving more time to one of her college friend (Chris)

She didn’t notice..

Summary: Not enough talk, too many misunderstandings, too fast condemnation, too much jealousy. Too much attention and too much fear. 

Pairing: Jealous!JakexMc (Natasha)

Words: 3,8k

Warnings: Just a little swearing. Jealous Jake. Slightly arrogant Jake. (Fast plot (I'm sorry))

A/n: Thank you very much for your request, I hope you will like it and that it is okay. Otherwise have a nice evening/ day/ night and take care of yourself, stay healthy.

"Yeah, you’re right, class today was really funny, chemistry went a bit wrong, but next time we’ll make it, okay?" you finish the voice memo to your classmate Chris. You just come home from college and poured yourself a glass of water in the kitchen. "Hello MC" Jake greets you while he come out from his study. "Hi babe" you also greet him while you unlock your phone again to listen to Chris' quick response. You hold the phone to your ear and giggles as he says he thought the blue liquid was different than he thought. Jake sits on one of the kitchen chairs and watches you quietly. When you take your phone off your ear, he asks you, "Who are you talking to?" “Just with Chris from my college class, we had a funny accident in chemistry today," you tell him. "Who is Chris?" he asks a little skeptical.

"He’s not from here, he moved here to go to university, his father runs a big computer technology company. I don’t know exactly what the name is, but it’s one of the greatest, really cool, right? You two would probably get along" you excitedly tell him about Chris. He nods briefly for confirmation and you frown, "I don’t think so" he speaks so softly that you can’t understand him properly. "Everything okay?" you ask carefully. "Yes, all right, I have to keep working, okay?" The question was more rhetorical than he already got up to go back to his study. You shrug your shoulders and decide to answer Chris. "Mistakes happen to the best ones," you reassure him giggling, then you complain,"I just can’t chemistry, it doesn’t go into my head. At least you chose blue, I wanted to put the green stuff on it."

The first thing you decide to do is take a little break on the sofa before you start doing your tasks. "What about learning for IT? You said you had problems with one program, I know how to do it, I can help you." Chris suggests, and you like the idea. "That would be incredibly nice of you, I really need help, I just don’t understand this stupid program," you whine. "So I can right now if you have time?" he asks and sounds a little hopeful in his audio. "Sure, today is a good, I don’t have much to do," you confirm with a smile. Chris is really good at this topic, he will be able to help you perfectly. "Okay, how about 4 p.m., in the coffee rainbow?" he suggests, and you agree, "That fits" "Good, see you later."

-

The hacker sits annoyed in front of his 4 screens and stares at the loading bar which reveals how far the update is that he needs for one of his new programs. He stares at his screen in a bad mood that it is a miracle that the screen does not start crying. He bites his jaw tightly and his hands are clenched into fists.

He had heard that you wanted to be helped by someone else. That you’re meeting someone else to get a computer program explained. His father runs an IT company? That’s why you let this Chris help you? Damn it, he’s the best hacker the world has ever seen, and he’s your boyfriend. B-O-Y-F-R-I-E-N-D! He thinks about whether he should dare to check this Chris. But you just shouldn’t find out, otherwise you’d probably be mad at him forever. On the other hand, it’s actually his right to see who you want to meet. After all, Chris could been sent by the government, right? It’s possible they found out where he is and sent someone to arrest him. At one of his other screens, he begins the systematic search for Chris and also for the company.  He decides to take a look at the company first and then the rest. It quickly turns out that the company is a company that creates firewalls for large corporations. He laughs mockingly, he created the best firewall in the world. He’d get into the security system in a few clicks.

He have NYM-OS as a firewall.  NYM-OS is the best security program in the world. If he would sold NYM-OS and made it available to others, all other companies could close.

He would normally not react as extreme as he is now, if it weren’t for days. You’ve been talking to Chris every free second of every day. Even when he and you watch a movie together, he always notices how you consistently take a look at your phone. And as soon as you have a new message, you answer. It’s driving him crazy. And every night you get this 'good night' message, and always with two red hearts, two red hearts! Damn, he’s not a person who cares about emojis at all. He’s the ':)' type, who only uses  '<3' as a heart.

But what if that’s not enough for you? What if you want more, someone using the right emojis? That’s ridiculous, it’s just emojis. Does Chris know you have a boyfriend? Did you tell him about it? Actually, you guys tend to keep it private. Why would anyone care?

But right now, he wants you to tell the whole world. Everyone should know, even if that weren't good, even dumb. But the hacker just has the urgent need that everyone knows is at your side.  A look at the clock in the corner of his screen reveals that it is already half past three.  So in 15 minutes, you’d be going to your meeting.

He decides to wait with the search for Chris until you leave, so that he can concentrate on it. His program is finally finished, so he’s going to do this first.

-

Until you knock on the door 10 minutes later. "I’m meeting with Chris at the Kaffe Rainbow now, okay? He’s helping me out for college" you explain, and you’re smiling at Jake.  He is really so beautiful.  "Okay, which subject?" he asks you casually without turning to you.  "A tool. This doesn’t work right, but it’s important for my subject."  You don’t even seem to notice how much your words hit him, and the openness you tell him about it hurts him. Of course, it’s better than lying to him, but it still hurts him.  "All right," he grumbles and taps annoyed around his keyboard with his fingers.

"Aren’t you saying goodbye to me?" you ask unsure, wondering why he is so dismissive of you. "Of course," he answers quietly and finally turns around.  You bend down to him to give him a kiss but after a second he immediately moves away. "Take care, see you later" he sounds almost disinterested and you notice a prick in your chest. "I love you, my heart" you mumble. "Yes, I love you too, Natasha"

Wow, 'Yes, I love you too?' Yes? Why 'yes'? 'Why is he so dismissive? Did I do something wrong?' you wonder in your head. You decide to talk to him later when you get back, but now you have to go, you don’t want to keep Chris waiting.

The door falls shut and Jake moans loudly and rubs his hands through his face.This fucking jealousy is really terrible! He’s growling, the thought of you going out to meet this Chris guy makes him mad.  His heart is racing and he drops his head backwards against the back of the chair.

This is not normal.

Yeah, that sounds very dramatic. But he swore he’d always protect you and never let you go. You’re the first person he really cares about besides Hannah and Lilly. You are the first person he can imagine sharing his life with, and right now he sees this future in danger. All the attention you’ve paid to Chris over the last few days is making him nervous.

And even worse, he doesn’t know how to deal with it or what to do so that he doesn’t feel so bad about it.

He really would have a lot of means to get rid of Chris, which sounds a lot like Mafia, but that’s not what it mean. He could make a few simple clicks to get Chris to move back to the city he came from. Get him kicked off campus or something. But unfortunately, he swore to himself that he would use his arts and talent exclusively for good and important things. He could never destroy anyone’s future.

He just has to trust you, you would never lie to him or cheat on him. You wouldn’t leave him, you love him, you said it a few minutes ago. But his thoughts seem to really drive him crazy. Scenarios where you’re in the end because of Chris, spitting through his head. How he sees pictures of you on Instagram, how you spend your life with Chris. How you still keep in touch with his sisters, and all those things.

Luckily, it suddenly rings at the door and drives away these horror stories for a short moment.  He jumps up from his chair to escape from the room, which suddenly seems so narrow and small.  He hurries to the front door and with a lot of momentum he opens it. Outside, Hannah stands looking at him in surprise, "Hi," she chuckles as she sees his strange look, "Have you been drinking too much coffee or where does this energy come from? “  "Oh well, Hello Hannah" he greets his sister and makes room to let her in.  "How are you? " she asks lovingly as she closes the door again.  "Yes," he replies, as quickly as the thoughts have gone, they have now returned.  "Huh? Yeah? Jake this is not a real answer to this question" she informs him.

„Oh no, I mean, yeah, all right, and with you? " he goes straight back to his room. Hannah follows him with a skeptical look.  "Ok, something is wrong here! " she notes and folds her arms in front of her chest, waiting for an answer.  "Everything okay, Hannah, really, but what are you doing here? " he quickly distracts and lets himself sink back into the chair.  "I’m here to pick up Natasha, the whole group is meeting at the  Rainbow, where is she? " she inquires. Jake snorts bitterly,  "She forgot your meeting, but don’t worry, she’s already in the rainbow," he explains. „Wow, wow wow, okay. It’s not just 'something' wrong here, Is there a war or what? What happened? Did you have a fight?" worried, she sinks onto the small couch.  Jake have his arms crossed and looks at the ceiling, and turning around on his chair. "Ask Chris when you’re at the cafe," he murmur "he'll tell you, whats going on" "Who is Chris? " Hannah raises an eyebrow in surprise. Her brother grins mockingly,  "Someone from her college. Who really gets a lot of attention"  His sister twists her eyes,  "Now don’t let me ask everything! Just tell me what happened"

In the short version, the hacker tells his half-sister about his problem and what happened the last few days. How he feels and also reveals to her his fear of losing you.

"Watch out" begins Hannah, "Put on your shoes and a jacket and let’s go!" Motivated, Hannah jumps up. "Where?" Jake asks cluelessly.  "Well, you’re coming with me to the rainbow. We’re all meeting, and you’re now with everyone, too. And I’m your sister so you have every right to come along!" "I don’t think it’s a good idea, otherwise Natasha still thinks I’m spying on her" The brown-haired one laughs, "Yes, that’s exactly what we do, so come on," she forces him.  "Hannah I-" he tries, but she raises an index finger to silence him, "No, get dressed! Come along!" "Stop beeing so revenge funny, Natasha is your friend," he reminds his sister.  "Jake, you’re my brother, and even though she’s my friend, I don’t like the way she treats you right now. And I’m not doing anything, we’re just going to have a coffee. Besides, I have every right to be mad because she forgot about us, and I think that’s a shame"

Said and done

5 minutes later, the siblings enter the beautiful coffee. Immediately the large group is noticed, which has to push two tables together each time, so that there is enough space.  "Ah Hannah" shouts Thomas as he discovers his girlfriend.  She takes her brother by the hand to pull him behind her, but his gaze is not on the group, but on you. You’re laughing at a joke he made for you by Chris while he explains to you how exactly the program works. Jake doesn’t like how close you sit next to each other, of course you both have to be able to look at the screen, but that’s extremely close.

-

The call of Thomas for his girlfriend makes you look up from the screen and immediately you meet the neutral, almost cold look of your boyfriend. Surprised, you draw your eyebrows together. You didn’t expect him here. You don’t have a chance to give him a sign like a smile or something, he’s already sitting at the table.  From here, you can’t hear what the others are saying, but when you see the look on Hannah’s face, you suddenly come to remember that you were on a date with the group.  "Can we go on?" Chris asks and pulls you out of your mind,  "Ooh, sure," you mumble. You really have to apologize later.

"What are you doing here?" Richy asks the hacker, "And why is Natasha sitting back there with someone else?""  Before Jake can answer, Hannah takes the job off him, "Natasha is otherwise busy, she forgot about us." "Serious?" Dan asks in amazement and then looks at Jake, "Trouble in paradise?" "Funny Dan. Really funny" Jake hisses and twists his eyes.  "Hey, that was just a joke," the bearded one explains, "I just wanted to say that the guy is weird."  "Did anyone talk to her?" Hannah asks. "No, we were just waving at her, I thought she’d be here soon, but it doesn’t look like it," says Thomas. "Hi guys" Lilly welcomes the round. They’re all here now. While Jake’s second sister takes off her jacket, she asks, "What’s going on here?" She points to you and Chris in the corner.  "We’ve been transferred," Hannah tells her again.

After Lilly sits down, the hacker begins to tell again what the problem is. "And she didn’t realize you weren’t happy about it?" Lilly asks and sounds a little angry.  "No, she doesn’t know," Jake sighs. "I’ll clear this up" the blond-haired woman shrugs her shoulders and gets up.  "No wait" her brother tries to stop her but she doesn’t let herself be disturbed.

You notice Lilly coming towards you with a not enthusiastic look.  "Hello Lilly" you greet her still smiling.  She nods neutral and pulls a chair back that creates an unpleasant squeak on the tiles. "Hi" she calls and looks expecting, "Who is that?" She immediately comes out with her concerns. You are almost swallowing up, "This is Chris, we have some subjects together at college," you explain to her. What’s going on now?

She stretches her hand across the table to Chris, "Hi, I’m Lilly Donfort. A friend of Natasha’s and her boyfriend’s sister," she imagines herself abruptly. Chris even twitches slightly at her sharp tone, "Hi, I’m Chris" responds a bit insecure and shakes her hand. "Haven’t you forgotten something?" explores she further. "Yes, I know, I’m really sorry, I’m just stressed about the subject, the exam is in two days and I don’t understand it yet. Chris offered to help me and I just forgot, "you apologize.  "Why do you let Chris help you? You haven’t forgotten who Jake is, have you?" she says cynically. "He’s mad, isn’t he?" you ask in shame and look away.  "Of course, think about why, and if you’re watching a movie while you’re in his arms, pack up the phone," the blond-haired gasps. You swallow. You did something wrong. "I didn’t want to hurt you," you mumble.

"Oh you didn’t hurt me directly.This with the meeting isn’t so bad. It’s just about Jake" "Wait, so you have a boyfriend?" Chris asks in between.  "Oh, she did," Lilly knocks twice on the table to underline her statement.  "The one who looks over here in between with this death look?" he asks amusingly.  "What’s funny about that?" Lilly pulls up an eyebrow. "Well, he’s trying to kill me with his looks, as jealous as he seems," Chris explains.  "Hey, stop talking so pejoratively about him, okay? He loves me, so he shows," you defend Jake right away.  "It’s okay, I didn’t mean to attack you, but I wonder why you didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend?" "I didn’t think it was important. I mean, why? That has nothing to do with the university?" astonished you look at him. "Well, I thought if we were meeting, you’d be single?"  "Oh no" Lilly chuckles easily, "Here’s a misunderstanding" "Yes, that’s it, I thought there is something between us," Chris shakes his head.

"You have thought wrong," Jake suddenly interrupts you. Without wasting a second, he leans down to you to press his lips on yours.

A goose bump runs over your body, his voice sounds icy and rough. His lips are possessive and the hand in your neck makes sure you can’t leave his lips. But you don’t want it either; this moment should freeze. Each of his kisses is like a piece of heaven.

You get lost in that kiss. Forget everything around you, your thoughts, the people who luckily aren’t too many, Chris, Lilly, the group.

All you feel is your heart racing and your lips tingling. A short moment later, Jake releases you, "I’m sorry for the rudeness" he whispers against your lips.

You smile, "No, I’m sorry, I think we need to talk."

Jake turns his gaze away from you to Chris, but stays close to your face, "I think you can go now" with a mocking grin on your lips. Chris pulls up an eyebrow, "calm down" "Bye" the Hacker growls and waves while Chris puts his laptop in his pocket.  "I’ll see you in class tomorrow," Chris turns back to you. "And next time, maybe you should be careful what chemicals you mix together. Anyone who can read is clearly in advantage," Jake pushes another mockery after him.

Jake sighs and puts his eyes back on you, "I won’t apologize," he immediately clarifies.  "You don’t have to apologize, I guess I was a little too inattentive in the last few days" "Just a little bit" he jokes and sits down on the chair next to yours.  "I should have thought about what I say. And I shouldn’t have ruled you out," you apologize, "and I should have explained to you why I let Chris explain to me how it works, and not from you. l really didn't mean it bad, I just didn’t want to keep you from working.You’re so stressed right now and if I’m honest, Chris' father is also a professor and he teaches my informatics course. And when Chris tells his father that he help me, the father sees that I care. Simple psychology. His father will keep it in mind whether he wants to or not. And honestly, when you explain something, I feel like you’re telling me how to hack the NSA," at the end you chuckle easily.

"Maybe you should talk about it at home. I don’t know if you still want to stay here but I would like to order a coffee now also" Lilly shows to the waitress who stands at the table of the group and writes the orders of the others on a piece of paper.

-

"You know, actually, it wasn’t bad at all what you did," Jake murmurs. You’re lie half on him, your cheek is squeezed together on his chest while he plays with your hair.  "I think I exaggerated, I was too jealous. But you know, I’m a computer nerd, and my girlfriend asks someone else for help with a program on a computer. I know it’s ridiculous, but somehow I felt personally attacked, like that you think he’s better than me. Do you understand?" he asks quietly.  "Yeah, of course I understand, but don't think like that, okay? No one is better than you," you pull with your finger small circles on his chest, "And I would have been jealous too. You know, I like Chris as a friend. I didn’t want you to think I was paying too much attention to him. And the fact that I always answered him immediately doesn't mean anything. I wasn’t just looking at my phone because of him," you assured the hacker.

"And I didn’t think it bothered you that much, if I’d understood it before, I wouldn’t have done it. But I should have thought more, then I would have understood it sooner. We should both talk to each other more openly next time, okay?" you suggest and hold your hand towards him. He nods, "Deal!" he puts his hand in yours then shakes it.  "I just love you way too much to be able to see someone else at your side. I’m just afraid I’m not good enough for you."  "Jake, you’re way too good for me, really. Never think you are not good enough, you are everything and much more, I love you to infinity and beyond." "I love you even more" he whispers, and then turns so that he lies sideways opposite you. He presses his forehead against yours and sighs, "But I still don’t like him"  Before you can make a teasing comment, he’s already pressed his lips on yours.

His jealousy is just to sweet :)

🌹🎭

Masterlist

[jeriafterdark]

Day 4: Saddest WenZhou Moment- Wen Kexing's Grief, Zhou Zishu's Resolve

Day 1 2 3

Spoilers ahead! Long post! Top 3 saddest moments~

3. Ep 36: Dual Cultivation

I love the callback to Legend of Condor Heroes (or is it Return? click for link to video with comparisons) where they also dual cultivate and their hair turns white. The saddest part is when they enter the Armory and ZZS/WKX act as they normally do, teasing each other and having fun. Each knowing and already deciding that their lives will come to an end soon. In WKX's case, he's happily joking around and enjoying his last moments with ZZS knowing that his one important person left in this world will be taken care of, and he can't let ZZS know.

2. Ep 10: "Leader Zhou, do you dare to say that you've only ever killed bad people?"

WKX assumed everyone in jianghu was bad and deserved a bad end, but he didn't anticipate the Four Sages of Anji to be so good and moral, finding each other as zhiji and living in peace (much like he hopes to live with ZZS). After his plan goes awry and the Four Sages are killed, ZZS confronts him and asks if this is what he wanted? He kind of pours salt on the wound, so WKX counters by asking if he deserves the moral high ground, hasn't he ever killed good people too? The look on ZZS's face as WKX says this to him is just- hurt. Tears in his eyes, he's surprised that WKX would use his past against him.

"How can people like you and me bear to be asked about our lives?" - Zhou Zishu

ZZS leaves, and they both spend the day being sad (and murder-y), thinking that their zhiji doesn't understand them. It is painful for ZZS to recall all the things he's done as Lord of the Window of Heaven, so he realizes that asking WKX to confront his bad moral decisions wasn't his place to do so b/c he's got plenty of past sins too.

I think this moment was important for both of them to see that they both have pasts that they regret, but who they are right now and with each other - that's what matters.

1. Ep 14 - Confessions in the Rain

Summary: Ye Baiyi corners Zhou Zishu and pushes him to reveal the truth about his deteriorating health. Wen Kexing realizes that his health is worse than he thought and pushes him as well. ZZS reveals that he punished himself with the nails and we find out that he would rather live a better quality of life with the use of his martial arts for a short time, than to live for ten years heavily injured without martial arts. And WKX is devastated that his newfound zhiji, the only person in the world who knows him, will only live for two more years.

WKX: “How long do you have left?”

ZZS: “At least two years.”

WKX: “Ah-Xu…”

ZZS: “Lao Wen, others can say stupid things, but you can’t. I would rather live freely for ten days than to live against my will for ten years.”

“There’s still enough time for us to taste all the wine in the world.”

WKX: “I understand! I understand it more than anyone. I just think it’s a bit funny. When I was little, I often disobeyed my parents and didn’t practice martial arts to play instead. My parents always said that if I didn't work hard at that time, I would regret it later. Once I got older, it would be too late to learn martial arts. I would argue back that when I grew up, it would also be too late to play with bird eggs and marbles. Who knew that I would spend.. my entire life… living in the wrong moment?

I couldn’t play when I wanted to, I didn't have anyone to teach me martial arts when I wanted to. I can’t have what I want. It’s too late to save who I want to save.

Fortunately… fortunately…” (I haven’t fallen in love with you yet)

ZZS: “Wen Kexing, are you done yet? I wasted my entire life, I gave all I had to win back my freedom. If even you are telling me to drag out my death for a few more years, then getting to know you was pointless.”

On Wen Kexing’s grief - for himself and for ZZS

I feel WKX’s life is really tragic. His entire life is marked by grief; grief for his lost family, grief for his lost childhood, grief for his lost love. He left Ghost Valley to enact a final revenge against the world, but he finds that there’s still a light of hope in the world for him, ZZS/ A-Xu. Maybe, once his plan is done, or maybe if he decides to leave his plan, he could travel the world with A-Xu. He finally met someone who understood him, all the layers of him, the buried good and the very bad. What great fate allowed him this? And then, he finds out- oh, ZZS is dying. He only has two years to live. How cruel can fate be? To dangle his light and hope in front of him again just to snatch it away? So I can understand his reaction here, to think that the world is truly cruel, to have his heart broken again, to have to mourn again, even while ZZS stands before him pouring his heart out.

凉雨知秋

The cold rain falls in autumn;

青梧老死

The green parasol tree dies.

一宿苦寒欺薄衾

The blanket is too thin for the cold night.

世事蹉跎

The time slips by.

死生契阔

I want to be with you through life and death,

相见恨晚叹奈何

But what a pity we met so late.

Zhou Zishu’s resolve- for himself, for WKX

In ZZS’s case, he quietly kept his illness to himself, hoping to live out the rest of his days in peace with WKX because he already knows that WKX is his zhiji, the one who knows him, the one that he knows. And that’s enough for him. He’s lived his whole life regretting his decisions, trying to do what he thought was for a higher cause, taking his sect to become the Window of Heaven to work for a better future with Prince Jin, and then losing his whole family, one by one. He just wants to take something for himself this time, these last few years with Lao Wen would be enough, more than he could ask for. So he keeps his imminent death a secret. When WKX and YBY force him to reveal his secret, it not only devastates them but ZZS as well. His little fantasy of having a peaceful life is shattered, too. He desperately wants WKX to agree with him, understand that this was his decision, it represents his choice to be free. He wants WKX to validate his choices, to know that ZZS would rather live free and die quickly, than to suffer a long drawn-out death. And really, it’s his choice and his life. If WKX can’t understand that, then they wouldn’t have worked out anyway.

What tops this moment for me is the mutual helplessness from both of them. They both understand that this situation has no easy solution. So how do you move on from it? How do you still choose to love each other? Will it be lying to themselves to think they could have a happy love story? Could their love even be able to flourish with all this baggage? Would it be foolish to have some hope that they could still grow old together?

My answer is a quote from one of my favorite characters:

The glory of the heavens was ever beyond the grasp of those who never thought to reach for it. But if I’ve gained anything from all of this, it is the courage to stretch out my hand.

-Crystal Exarch, FFXIV

[swiftiesimonriley]

it only takes a moment (modern! maxwell lord x f! reader - only one bed!)

modern! maxwell lord x f! reader ft. only one bed!

summary: after a planned trip goes awry, what happens when you, Alistair’s nanny, and max only have one bed to share?

warnings: mentions of drinking and sex (no smut in this work), mentions of bad weather and turbulence on a plane, anxiety

a/n: this is my first maxwell oneshot!! thank you to the anon who suggested it! my masterlist is here and my requests are open! also this is not beta read - we die like men KSJDHAKKS

To say this was one of the longest days ever would be an understatement.

Your day started like any other. Waking up around 6:15am, you quietly pad into your bathroom and wash your face, taking a few minutes to complete your skincare routine and brush your teeth before making your way back into your bedroom.

Going over to your desk, you pick up your outfit you laid out the night before, a comfortable pair of leggings and an oversized crew neck with the name of the college you went to on it.

You hold the wooly sweatshirt in your hands, a smile tugging at your lips at the memories of your time back on campus. While it’s been less than a year since you graduated, you still hold the memories close.

One memory in particular plays on a loop in your head.

It was last May. You were sat in a back booth with some friends of your favorite bar in the city.

You were celebrating the new job you had just been hired at - as a full-time nanny for a single father with a young boy.

It was no secret that you had struggled finding a job after graduation. You had put in a lot of work at your time here at school, but you felt a pit of sadness in your heart at graduation when all of your friends had already secured jobs and a future for themselves.

You felt the sadness when you didn’t know how you were going to make ends meet - you had student loans, bills and other things piling more and more stress on - but when you found an ad for a nanny job, you were over the moon.

After your interview with the assistant to the single father, who must be very busy or important if he has an assistant, you were thrilled when you got the news you were hired.

The assistant explained her boss was a high-profile man, and that he wanted to be the one to introduce himself to you, which you had no problem with. You also would be a live in nanny, meaning you would have your own space within the house.

With the job starting tomorrow, your friends decided tonight would be the night to celebrate, wanting to “send you off” with one last night out before your job started.

A couple of rounds of drinks in, you felt a sudden burst of energy - whether it be a real energy boost or the tension leaving your body from the numerous drinks you’ve had throughout the night - but suddenly you make your way over to the makeshift dance floor.

You feel the beat of the music flow through you as your friends come and dance with you for a while, losing track of time in the small bar as the night goes on. It’s after several more songs that you feel a set of big hands rest gently on your hips and a strong, yet comforting scent of cologne filling your nose.

“I hope you don’t mind me being a bit forward angel, but I couldn’t help but notice you from across the bar, and I have to say you are absolutely gorgeous,” the man says confidently, his fingers rubbing a soft pattern into the flesh of your hips.

You turn your head to the side to lock eyes with the handsome stranger, his brown eyes like swirls of chocolate and honey reflect the colorful lights of the bar back into your own.

A smile plays at his lips as you take in his styled appearance, his clothes fitting him in all of the right places, almost like they were made just for him.

“You see something you like darling?” he asks soothingly, the smile on his face morphing to a playful smirk as you nod back at him faster than you can say something.

He lets out a hearty chuckle and gives one of your hips a squeeze as he presses his front firmly up against your back, a small gasp leaving your lips as you feel how he is pressed against your ass, and you have to stop yourself from arching into his chest.

“Let’s get out of here,” you whimper, feeling the room get hotter as he stays close to your body, wanting to get some privacy with him before you drop to your knees right here on the sticky floor of the bar.

He nods along with your suggestion, gently grasping your hand in his and leading you to an awaiting taxi.

A shiver runs down your spine at the memory of that night. The more your mind lingers on that night, you swear you can almost feel him back between your legs and hear the whimpers of praise in your ear.

But of course that once in a lifetime high from your hookup turned into a nightmare the next day, when you realized that the gorgeous man next to you was not only the famous Maxwell Lord, but that he is the man you were to work under as a nanny.

Sure it was awkward when you came back to Max's house in the morning after sneaking out a few hours earlier, preteding that the two of you didn't have mindblowing sex the night before, instead opting to focus on the specifics of the job. 

Max explained that he was a very busy man - something you already knew - and that he really appreciates what you are doing for him and Alistair, and that he knows his son will love spending time with you.

That was a year ago.

Now the tension had gone down significantly, but you would be lying to yourself if you said you still didn't think about Max in the way you did that night with him. There were times when you caught him staring at you from across the room, feeling his eyes on you as you played with his son, a smile tugging at his lips.

There were nights where you laid lonely in your bedroom, wondering what would happen if you went down the hall to the master bedroom and joined your boss, but you stopped yourself from picturing what could happen.

You slip on your sweatshirt, brush out and twist your hair, opting to put it in one of you claw clips, a few stray pieces framing your face in all of the right ways.

Making your way out of your room you head down the hallway to Alistair’s room, knocking lightly before peeking your head in and letting him know it’s time to start waking up.

Today was a travel day.

Max was attending a conference down in DC and decided to bring you and Alistair along so he could spend some time with his son, as well as turn this little trip into a mini vacation. He planned on visiting several museums that he knows Ali will love, like the natural history museum and air and space museum, but also the national gallery of art for you as well.

He didn’t tell you he rented out the museum so it would be just the three of you. He wanted that to be a surprise.

You grab your small duffel bag for travel and make your way down the grand staircase, placing the bag near the front door as you head to the kitchen, starting to grab the ingredients to make belgian waffles - Alistair’s favorite.

Turning on the coffee pot, you hum to yourself as you mix the ingredients together to make breakfast, making sure to lay out three plates. As you pour the batter into the waffle maker, you make quick work of cutting up some fresh strawberries to serve on the side.

Hearing two pairs of footsteps coming down the stairs, as well as an accompanying giggle, you turn to see Max chasing Alistair through the foyer and towards the kitchen island, with Max laughing as he picks up his son and plops him down onto the barstool in front of him.

A smile pulls at your lips as you slide Max a mug of coffee, getting a nod of appreciation in return before he helps you plate up breakfast, encouraging his son to eat up so you all can get going.

Max had arranged for one of his private planes to fly the three of you out, telling you it would be much more relaxing than taking a normal flight, to which you rolled your eyes.

No matter how long you had been working for Max, you still aren’t used to how causal he is with spending his wealth. Especially when it came to you.

It was no secret Max had a sweet spot for you.

How could he not? It wasn’t all about that first night - sure he still thinks about it when he’s alone - but it’s about all of you. He loves the way that when he comes home it feels so domestic - you and Alistair either running around the house playing games or cooking or baking together - something about it feels so right to him.

But he doesn’t want to make things weird between the two of you.

He hopes this special trip will help him out a little bit.

“Alright, the only room we have left is room 5. Is that ok Mr. Lord?”

Max nods as the small bed and breakfast owner hands over the key. He turns to look at you with tired eyes, seeing Alistair leaning up against you, barely awake.

Grabbing your bags, Max makes quick work of guiding you and Ali down the long hallway of numbered rooms until the three of you were gathered outside of room five.

Opening the door with the key, Max leads the two of you inside the small two room suite, dropping the bags unceremoniously onto the carpet as Ali lays down on the couch in the “living room” which consisted of a small kitchenette, a couch and two comfy chairs, a tv, and kitchen table with chairs.

“I knew he was tired, but not that tired,” you chuckle, pointing to the couch where Ali is fast asleep, one of the stuffed animals you had bought for him tucked under his arm.

Max let’s out a huff of frustration as he sits down on one of the soft chairs, running a hand through his now messy locks.

“Hey,” you say soothingly, making your way to the chair next to Max’s and sit down. You reach out a hand and place it on Max’s shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze.

At the feeling of your touch, a pair of brown eyes looks up and lock with yours, Max’s brow furrowed in not only frustration but stress.

The past several hours didn’t go as any of you planned.

The plane ride started out as usual, Max siting comfortingly in his seat and looking over some documents for his upcoming meeting. You and Alistair were sat in your own seats, playing with a new copy of Mad Libs, with Alistair giggling as you read out the story he created.

You were probably in the air for about 45 minutes when you hit a patch of bad weather, the plane going through a bit of turbulence.

Feeling the plane rock, your hand immediately shoots out to grab onto Max’s, your eyes locking with his in fear as he squeezes your hand, sending a small wave of comfort throughout your body.

The pilot comes over the speaker to inform you that he needs to make an emergency landing while the weather passes, and you feel your heartbeat pick up as the plane begins to descend, hearing Max comfort Ali from his seat.

It’s when the plane is grounded, that you begin to process what just happened - you find it hard to catch your breath as your bags are unloaded from the plane.

“Hey hey hey,” a soothing, familiar deep voice says, “we’re okay, alright? Let’s find somewhere we can stay so you and Ali can rest.”

“What about you? You need rest too after today,” you sigh, feeling Max place his hand on the small of your back, grabbing a few bags and grabbing Ali’s hand as the three of you make your way towards the taxi the small airport called for you.

“I’m not too worried about it,” Max reassures, helping you load everything into the taxi before helping you inside.

The bed and breakfast you were staying at was hours outside of DC, but you could always find a cat tomorrow and drive down to make it to Max’s meeting. It was the only place nearby with availability, even if it was only one room.

You break eye contact with Max, telling him you are going to run to the bathroom real quick. You stand up and walk over to the door to the bedroom, turning the knob open and gasping as you look inside.

“What’s wrong?” Max worriedly presses, still on edge from earlier. He jumps up and makes his way over, ready to face whatever danger may be behind the door, but feels his eyes widen as he sees the one singular bed in the center of the room.

“Oh,” he sighs, seeing you have the same reaction. The two of you haven’t shared a bed since that first night, and the two of you never spoke of it again.

“I can sleep in one of the chairs,” you blurt out, not fully thinking before the words come out. You can’t imagine sharing a bed with your boss, with Max, after what happened last time. It just would be too awkward.

“No no, you don’t have to do that,” he reassures, “I’ll sleep on the chair,” he suggests, getting a head shake from you. You don’t want him to be uncomfortable because of you, but you also don’t want to push the boundaries.

He lets out a sigh as he runs his hand through his hair again, something he would do when stressed over something such as a business proposal or shareholder meeting, but this was different.

You take a deep breath and turn to look at the tall man, watching as his eyes look down to meet yours. God he was so pretty. Has he always been this pretty?

“How about we just both sleep in the bed Max, that way we can both be comfortable and get some sleep before our drive tomorrow,” you rush out, looking down at your feet to avoid his gaze.

Max stays quiet for a moment, thinking over the benefits of actually sleeping in a bed, with you in it. After today, he feels like he could fall asleep instantly, so maybe it’ll be that way in the bed.

“Alright,” he sighs, “I’m going to change in the bathroom.”

You nod as he reaches down to grab his designer travel bag, heading off to the attached bathroom before shutting the door, missing the way your face heats up at the thought of sharing a bed with him.

You will yourself to get changed quickly, not wanting Max to walk in on you changing, even if he’s seen you undressed before.

Grabbing your bag, you search through for your pajamas, which consist of a pair of striped sleep shorts and an old oversized tshirt. Letting your hair down, you feel a heavy weight of exhaustion flow over you like an ocean wave, and your body subconsciously makes it’s way over to the small bed and lets you settle in.

Max walks out of the en-suite bathroom a few moments later, clad in his custom Armani pajamas and makes his way over to the bed, seeing you already tucked under the covers and turned away from him.

He lets out a sigh as he peels back his side of the covers, letting his body slip into his side of the bed and relax, the bed feeling like a cloud under his tense muscles. Letting his eyes flutter closed, he wills himself to fall asleep fast.

“Max?” you whisper, turning over to lay on your back.

The older man lets out a quiet groan, flipping over to face you. “Yes?”

“Why don’t you date?”

The question nearly makes his eyes shoot out of his head. Was he dreaming?

“I uh-,” he starts, letting out a small cough and staring up at the ceiling. “I haven’t found someone i’d want to bring home.”

He doesn’t miss the small “mhm” you let out, the air becoming thick with tension.

“Why don’t you date?” He questions back, feeling a little bold. If you could ask him, why couldn’t he ask you.

You let out a small laugh, “Of course you’d ask,” you laugh, taking a deep breath before closing your eyes. It’s now or never. After the turbulence situation, it made you realize that things aren’t guaranteed. Hell, if it bothers him Max can find another nanny.

“I haven’t found anyone i’d want to bring home since I met you.”

Max feels his throat tighten up. He immediately turns towards you and sees you have opened your eyes back up, and are looking right at him. Fuck, is this really happening?

“Me?” he asks excitedly, trying to stay calm as his nanny confesses her true feelings right before his very eyes.

“Yes you, unless there is some other Maxwell Lord that I have slept with and work for!” you laugh, feeling the anxiety in your chest start to fade away. You watch Max closely, swearing you can see stars in his eyes as your confession escapes your lips.

Max smiles to himself, letting out a small chuckle to himself before looking back at you. He scoots a little closer to you, not wanting to overcrowd you, but wanting to close the space between you two. He reaches forward and brushes a stray piece of hair away from your face, watching as a faint blush rises upon your cheeks.

“Can I hold you?” He asks softly, almost as if you would disappear if he spoke louder. You nod back at him, turning on your side so that your back is pressed up against his front.

Adjusting the covers around you both, Max brings you closer to his body and places his strong arm around your waist, holding you softly, yet securely, as if he would never let go. He settles his face into your neck and takes in your soft scent of coconut and something else sweet, never wanting to forget the scent.

You both let your eyes flutter shut, set on getting some rest. Feeling Max rubbing a familiar pattern on your hip, you feel yourself start to drift off comfortably, only feeling butterflies in your tummy, but the good kind.

Tomorrow you both can talk about your feelings, but right now you just want to lie in Max’s arms, and never have him let you go

taglist: @salome-c @jasterslegacy @marydjarin @hnt-escape

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

Warnings: unprotected sex (m/f), adultery, divorce, a little fluff, a little angst

Plain Gold Ring Part III

For All We Know

“For all we know

We may never meet again

Before we go

Make this moment live again

We won't say goodbye

Until the last minute

I'll hold out my hand

And my heart will be in it” -Nina Simone

———————————————————

One month. One month before you moved to Chicago. One month until you start your new life. One month for Andy Barber to convince you that you belong together.

The night you retuned was a whirlwind of emotions. In the four days you were gone Andy had moved out and filed for divorce. You didn’t know what happened in that house and you didn’t dare ask. All Andy offered was, “She doesn’t know about you.” That gave you little solace. Made you feel no less guilty. And yet, here he was in your apartment.

He knew her routine and promised they wouldn’t cross paths. Though, it wouldn’t be unheard of if he was at your place considering the mountain of work you had to clear. He could explain it away.

You said no physical contact but you couldn’t help stroking the dented skin on his left ring finger. The little void of lighter skin a spectral reminder of his former life. That was the only conscious touching you did that night.

You kept the conversation light. You spoke about the new firm with an excitement in your voice that even shocked you. He agreed your offer was far too good to pass up. He had been to Chicago a couple of times. It was bitterly cold there for far too long. Though, if all of this worked out, he would just have to get used to it.

It was getting late. Neither of you wanted to say goodbye. “Can I stay the night?” he whispered.

He had no malicious intent whatsoever. He just wanted to be next to you. Your stupid brain was now deferring all decision making to your heart. That bitch was more easily swayed than your pussy. Of course you said yes.

He wanted so badly to hold you against his body and drown in your warmth but he promised. He stayed as far away from you on the bed as possible. In the night, out of habit, your body had made its way to the middle of your California king. And, purely out of habit, Andy draped an arm over your side.

——————————————————————

You let Andy sleep in the next morning. You went to the gym, showered and made breakfast. When he found you in the kitchen he was freshly showered and wearing some well loved pajama pants. The no touching rule did not apply to morning in the kitchen.

He padded in on bare feet unintentionally sneaking up on you. When he kissed the back of your neck you jumped.

“Did I scare you?” he chuckled.

“I’m not used to having someone here.”

He poured himself a cup of coffee and refilled your cup. “I’ll make more noise next time.”

“Did you sleep ok?”

“Very well. Thank you.” Neither of you mentioned that you wound up tangled around each other.

You got out your laptop and set yourself up on the dining table. You tapped away while Andy read the paper. He eyed you suspiciously over a folded corner. “What are you doing over there?

“Working. Between you and Stan I have about 500 emails in my inbox.”

“It’s Saturday.” he said in disbelief. “Who works on a Saturday?”

“A single girl who lives alone and doesn’t participate in home improvement couples projects. Be honest. How many Saturdays have you and Lori spent in Home Depot?”

He really though about it and laughed to himself, “Too many.”

“Fucking suburban breeders.”

“Suburban breeders. Wow.” He continued to read the paper feigning outrage. “We don’t have to go to Home Depot but I would like to do something nice with you today. Although, I did see a few lightbulbs that needed to be changed.”

“That’s what the super is for. I don’t even own a ladder and I’m not about to buy one. Why don’t you find us a movie? It’ll be like a date.”

Andy’s heart fluttered. He hadn’t been on a date in sixteen years. He wanted to get it just right. While you toiled away he planned your evening.

First, he would make you dinner. Keep it simple and light to make way for popcorn and candy. An art house cinema was playing “Anatomy of a Murder” on actual film. It’s arguably one of the best written courtroom dramas ever. After the movie there was a little coffee shop within walking distance. Then, he hoped, it would be back to his new place. He thought if you were at his place and not in your building that it would take your mind off of Lori and Jacob.

It actually warmed his heart that you cared so much for their feelings. He couldn’t help but think you would make a great stepmom for Jacob. He was getting ahead of himself. But it didn’t hurt to daydream.

Andy tried his hardest to be lazy for the day but he was crap at it. He had to occupy himself. He offered you a hand which you readily accepted. It was such a shame you were leaving the firm. The two of you worked so well together. Given your circumstances he would have encouraged you to tender your resignation immediately after being passed over.

While Andy was getting dinner together you popped off to get changed. So far he had only seen you in workout gear and work attire. It would be nice to be a little bit more casual.

When you appeared in the kitchen he let out a sharp whistle in appreciation. “You look beautiful. Since we are on a date is the touching ban still in effect?”

You kissed him tenderly on the lips, “I think we can make an exception.”

“Well in that case…” He placed his hands on either side of your face and gave you a deep panty ruining kiss. “I’ve been wanting to do that for days now.”

You gripped the edge of the counter to catch your breath. “Something smells good.”

His whole face lit up when he told you about the salmon he made. He dipped the tip of his finger in the glaze and held it to your lips. You slowly sucked at the very tip of his finger. “Yum” you said looking up at him through your lashes.

“If you keep that up, baby, we won’t leave this apartment.”

You gave him your most innocent smile, “Sorry, boss. I’ll be a good girl.”

“Fuck. Save that for later. Speaking of later, I thought we could go to my condo tonight. It’s closer to the theater and I’d like to show it to you.”

“Big ol’ thumbs up for me. I’m famished.”

Your date went incredibly well. How could it not? You two were already idiots for each other. You talked for hours and about everything that night. No topic was off limits. You really had a lot in common. You both got into law for similar reasons. Though, you had more altruistic intentions like joining the ACLU as part of their legal team. Now you work for a firm who represents massive corporations. You weren’t proud of the turn you took. That was another reason the Chicago firm was such a great fit for you. They did a little bit of everything but, you would be going after these big corporations instead. He loved your unbridled enthusiasm for your work.

After all the wine was gone and the conversation died the two of you were cuddled on the couch. He rubbed his hands up your arms and massaged your shoulders, “Are you falling asleep on me?” he asked against your ear.

“No. Just relaxed.” He deepened his touch bringing his hands to your décolleté skimming the top swell of your breasts. His hand dipped into the v of your tshirt to make contact with your skin.

“Is this ok?” Lord he’s perfect.

“I declare the no touching ban officially lifted.”

He waisted no time taking full advantage. He massaged your breast under your shirt teasing you over your bra. His other hand held your face to his while he kissed you. You let out a soft moan to which he responded in kind. You turned around to straddle him. He ground his cock into your denim covered cunt to relieve the ache. You went slow savoring the weight of his body. The scruff of his beard. The rough callused fingers that seemed to be everywhere. With Andy, kissing was your favorite thing. The act made your insides liquid and warm.

He broke away to lift your shirt over your head. He sucked your nipple through the thin material of your bra. Your breath hitched in your throat. You ran your fingers through his hair grasping it hard. He undid the fly of your jeans and slipped his hand in. Your juices ran over his fingers while he fucked into you. You met your peak and cried out when you tumbled over the edge.

When he released you, you stood up and undressed. You pulled his shirt over his head. He kissed your belly while you shimmied out of your panties. He kicked off his pants and lowered you onto his dick. The stretch nearly toppled you over but you held on. You pressed your clit into his pelvic bone and he fucked into you hard. He could feel you were close. Your pussy fluttered around him bringing him close to his end. “You ready, baby?” You answered with a whimper. “Cum with me.” With a few final thrusts you both exploded.

There was an imperceptible shift in you that night. You were ready to meet Andy where he was. For the next few weeks, you were going to be his. Entirely and completely his in every conceivable way.

——————————————————————

You didn’t say no when he asked you to spend the night. You spent a lot of nights there. So many that he gently suggested moving in with him until it was time to ship out. His reasons were entirely practical. You were over staying your lease which meant you were paying more a month in rent. Your big stuff and winter clothes were packed and in storage. You were basically down to your bed and a few other essentials. At least you could put everything in storage to make it easier for the moving company. So you guessed now you were living together.

You wished it bothered you more but honestly he was a delightful roommate. He was clean. He cooked. You both had an annoying habit of bringing work home with you. At least you were doing it together. And, it goes without saying, you fucked like horny teenagers. You were adventurous and that thrilled him to his very core.

He had a large terrace looking over the city. That was officially your favorite spot. You were sure your neighbors heard you.

——————————————————————

You only had a week left. You successfully handed off your entire case load. Andy took a few days off to help you get settled in Chicago. You tendered your resignation the week prior.

Stan tried and failed to hold onto you. You let him know your mind was set. The only thing left on your work calendar was the charity event the firm held annually. You were on the board this year. Problem was, no one could know about you and Andy. You had to go alone. Andy was bringing Lori.

Your heart gave up her post as she was no longer emotionally equipped to handle decision making. Your brain was petty as fuck. You gave Andy the silent treatment for a whole day. He had no idea you weren’t speaking until he asked you a third time what you wanted for dinner.

“Y/n, I’m speaking to you. Do you want Thai tonight?” Nothing. You sulked around the kitchen never making eye contact. “I’m sorry are you mad at me?” He grabbed your wrist and forced you to face him. “Being a brat isn’t going to fix this. Look at me and use your words like a big girl.”

“Don’t treat me like a child.” Your voice was low and emotionless. You planted your feet and stared him down.

“Then don’t act like a child. Talk to me.” He smoothed the hair out of your face and rested his hands on your shoulders. “Please. We only have a few more days together. I don’t want to spend them fighting.”

You took a deep breath and blew it out. You didn’t trust yourself not to cry so you just let loose. “If I quit already, why can’t we go together? Further more, if you filed for divorce, why are you taking Lori? Also, you didn’t talk to me. You told me. End of story.”

“I still work there. I don’t want anyone to think you quit because of me. I didn’t tell anyone that Lori and I have split. She agreed to go while you were still in Chicago. I apologize for not talking to you about all of this. I honestly didn’t know how you would react. I wanted our last week together to be happy. I won’t see you for a while. It’s just one night. You can have me forever if you want.”

You softened a little, “But we’ll be all dressed up and dancing and stuff. I know this seems ridiculous but I don’t want to watch you dance with someone else even if, technically, she is your wife.” You pouted a little. He kissed your bottom lip and pulled you into his arms.

“You wanna dance with me, baby? Let’s dance. Alexa…play my Y/N playlist.” The speaker sprang to life filling the air with a sweeping piano and Nina Simone’s velvety voice. You swayed to the music while Andy sang softly in your ear “…..So baby love me, love me tonight……”

You stared up at him, tears shimmering in your eyes, “I’m sorry I was a bitch. I guess I’m a little on edge.”

“Don’t apologize. I’d be offended if you weren’t a little jealous. I’m on edge too. Every time I think about being here alone I can’t breathe.”

“So come with me.” It’s not that the thought hasn’t crossed his mind. He didn’t want to be that far away from Jacob. He just started this job. You both knew it was a ridiculous request.

“Give me some time.” You spent the rest of the night swaying in each other’s arms. Fucking hell. You fell in love.