#only taking a walk and making dinner today! and maybe an hour of thesis work if i feel like it we'll see. but otherwise no chores

[vriendenboekjes]

thank you ascension day being a day off for construction work and allowing me to sleep some more. really needed that.

[chaeiimimi]

HEY BUBS! I HOPE YOU’RE DOING GREAT, PART TWO WAS SUCH A BOMB AS WELL ALDJAKDJA I’M LOWKEY GETTING BABY FEVER ALREADY AT THIS POINT LMAO JK AKSJAKS IF YOU HAVE TIME, I’D LIKE TO REQUEST OSAMU / SUNA / OIKAWA / AKAASHI ALDHAKS ANY OF THEM WOULD BE FINE UWU 😫

HEY BUBS I’M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY BFIWBFIWBF MY LIFE’S BEEN PRETTY CRAPPY LATELY, I’M GLAD YOU LIKED THE SECOD PART AAAAA STAY HAPPY AND HEALTHY BUBS ILY <3

Haikyuu Boys and a Single Mom Pt. 3

Featuring: Suna, Bokuto, Kenma

Suna Rintaro

despite being a professional volleyball player, Suna was still a university student, he evenly splits up his days to go to volleyball practice and university

he was always dreading to go to university, but he knew he needed it, and you, being his seating beside you in three classes, made university bearable

you had this amazing aura, always so gentle, and kind, you had a soft smile plastered on your face almost like a motherly smile, your voice was always calm and soft, you were just so breath-taking to look at

although you two never talked that much, Suna already knew a lot of little details about you, he once drove pass you walking to the kindergarten just one street away from your university, he knew that you carry a container of fruits in your bag, you always left as soon as classes for the day was over, and that was only a few among a hundred of little things about you

Suna admired you from afar, as much as he likes you so much it physically hurts him, love just wasn't his priority, his priority was volleyball and his career

or at least he thought

life surely has a great sense of humor because somehow you guys ended up being partners for a thesis paper

"I look forward to working with you Suna" you smiled

"likewise" he says with his usual blank face

Suna didn't want to admit it, but he was excited

"so, where do we work on this?" he asks looking at the notes he took for that class

"well, we can work on it at my place" you say casually while also looking at your notes

"are you sure it's okay?" he asks again to make sure, this girl, the person he's been crushing on for his two years in university is now inviting him to her place

"yeah, i can't really spend a lot of time outside, my son hates it" 

and just like that Suna was having a mini heart attack, you were married? you have a son? what-

“hey, you alright?” you asked worriedly

Suna quickly composed himself 

“uhh y-yeah, won’t your husband get angry?” he asks 

“oh don’t worry I raise Kiro by myself” you smiled

Suna looked at you strangely, unable to keep up 

you chuckled at his dazed look “I’m a single mother” 

Suna almost breathed out a sigh of relief, thankfully he was able to stop himself or else you would get the wrong idea

“yeah, yeah sure, let’s work on it at your place” he snapped out of it, did he sound too happy to hear that you were single? yes, but we ain’t gonna talk about that 

what was your ex thinking? he was pretty sure your kid was cute and you were so breath-taking to look at, what a stupid guy    

“what does your son likes?” 

“hm?” you asked him to make sure you heard him right 

“what does your son likes?” 

later in the evening, Suna showed up at your place with chocolate chip ice cream and the most expensive sushi he could find

you worked on your project for a good two hours, finalizing the outline of the thesis, while Kiro sat on Suna’s lap, your son immediately liked him, maybe because of the ice cream and sushi , but Kiro was very fond of him

“Kiro, baby, get off of Suna’s lap please he might get tired” you said to your son while you were keeping the things you used

“I don’t mind, he’s surprisingly light” Suna says as he bounces Kiro on his lap

“alright, if you say so, I’m going to prepare snacks” you made your way to the kitchen and left the two in the living room

“mister rin-rin” Kiro whispers while tugging on Suna’s shirt

“hm?” he answers looking at the kid, he was right, Kiro was extraordinarily adorable, it felt like he was looking at a smaller boy version of you and it was making her heart go feral, making him break his rules and try his best to get the both of you

“i want you to be my daddy” he whispers while fiddling with his fingers shyly

please this man is about to combust

he pats the boy’s head “sure bud” he said with a smile

“then can I call you dad?” he asks , eyes sparkling

“well it’s better to start early right? sure you can bud” he says, a full-blown grin plastered on his usually stoic face

Bokuto Koutaro 

the flashing and clicking of cameras occupied the whole room where the MSBY Jackals were holding their post-game press conference, they won the game by the way and Bokuto was in high spirits answering questions thrown at him by the reporters 

it was your turn to ask a question to the players and you stood up “Bokuto-san, your fans are always wondering why you’re always in high spirits, what is your secret?” 

Bokuto has never seen you before, were you a knew reporter? because damn he would’ve noticed you immediately if you were on their past press conferences, you looked like a celebrity to be quite honest 

“I’m playing volleyball, there’s no room for me to be unhappy” he simply says 

 it was you first day at your new job, quite frankly, you’re glad you quitted your old one, they forced you to stay behind the camera and write scripts for anchors when you finished a bachelor degree on broadcasting 

“Can’t blame him, I’m also happy when I do my job” you mumble to yourself as you remembered Bokuto’s answer to your question

“mama!” you looked at your son who was in the arms of your cousin Kuroo

“hey thanks for doing this for me couz” you say as they stopped right in front of you

“mama! have you seen the game?! they were so awesome! Uncle Tetsu promised me to go meet MSBY!” your son happily jolts in his Uncle’s arm

you looked at him with a motherly smile, happy that you’re son enjoyed the game 

“you coming with us?” Kuroo asked

“you two go ahead I’ll just rest for a bit” you were tired with keeping up with the game and asking questions 

the two nodded “alright, just show this to the guard and they’ll let you enter” Kuroo says, handing you a pass

you mutter a small thank you as you watch them walk away

let’s just say Gen, your son, was liked by every single member of the team, I mean, who could ever dislike such an adorable kid?

“MSBY cool! Shoyo pwaaa! Boto bam!” he says while jumping up and down, while Kuroo watched his nephew smiling

Bokuto was particularly very fond of him, was it because the kid was unbelievably adorable? or was it because the kid reminded him of a certain reporter? He’d like to think both

“Gen-kun who’s yer fav’rite player eh?” Atsumu asks the kid

the kid looked at eight full-grown man looking at him expectantly, his eyes stopped on the black-and-white haired spiker and made grabby hands towards him “BOUTO! BOUTO!” 

the members were disappointed but not surprised at all, kids tend to go to Bokuto or Hinata since they have the friendliest faces

“HEY! HEY! HEEEY!” Bokuto did not hesitate and lifted the boy up in the air, as they both giggle

“Tetsu?” your voice interrupted the commotion inside the room

Kuroo went to the door and opened it for you and the first thing you saw was your son giggling with the person stuck in your head for about twenty minutes now

“Mama!” your son screamed as soon as he saw you and asked to be put down to run towards you giving you a hug on your leg you looked down at him and patted his head gently

Kuroo cleared his throat “this is Y/N L/N my cousin, the mother of adorable the adorable Gen, she is single and ready to mingle, 2 in 1 you get an adorable son and a lovely wife, contact me for more details, the price can be discussed” 

you deadpanned at your cousin, why tf was he selling you like an auction, you shook your head 

you were hyper aware of the intensity of the owl-eyed spiker, making you blush

while Bokuto was over here thinking, damn he hit the jackpot an adorable son and an absolutely gorgeous wife? you bet he’s in and he’s gonna do everything he can to win you and make you and your son happy

“I’m sorry about him, please excuse me, my son and I needs to leave” you said politely and bowed as you take your son away

unbeknownst to you, Bokuto was in the middle of business with your cousin

“hey, how much for the details?” Bokuto whispers to his bestfriend as if they were in the middle of an illegal transaction

Kuroo looked at his friend with eyebrows raised

“I’ll pay any amount” Bokuto was very serious, which made the former Nekoma captain burts out laughing

“well, since you’re my good friend, a few drinks will do” Kuroo after his hyena laugh session

“Hey! hey! hey! thanks Kubroo!” Bokuto says in his usual cheery voice

later that night, you wondered why you were having dinner with your son, your cousin, and the former captain of Fukurodani, how he managed to get you flowers in such a short amount of time and this late at night was beyond your knowledge. But you weren’t complaining though, how could you when he looked adorable with a flushed face asking for your number after driving you and your son home.

Kenma Kozume

Kenma wasn’t fond of kids, he didn’t disliked them, he just preferred hanging out with adults who were less hyper, proceeds to hangout with Bokuto, Hinata and Kuroo

but he was a gamer and it is inevitable that some of his fans were kids, he didn’t mind it though he is thankful to each and everyone of his fans

being the twenty-eight year old youtuber/CEO that he is, he barely have time to go out and it happened very rarely, and today happened to be one of those rare occasions as he got out to get some ice cream in a very hot summer day

but he was in a for surprise, at an empty alley, he heard a ruckus

“give it back! please give it back!” 

it was never in Kenma’s personality to pry, but something was pushing him to go check out what was going on

he went inside to the dark alley and saw four boys, about eight years old, one was in the middle, his clothes all crumpled and dirty, his bag empty, his things sprawled out, scattered in front of him

“you want this thing? it’s not even the latest model, you think kodzu-” 

Kenma cleared his throat, already able to register what was happening

“ken” the bully continued

“you know kids, I don’t really like bullies” Kenma starts as he walks towards the little boy, picking up his scattered things one by one and putting it in his bag

“leave, before I report you to your school” Kenma says stoically which made one of the boys drop the game console in his hand as the three of them scramble to get out of the dark alley

the little boy picked up the game console and tried to open it, but to no avail, it was broken

Kenma went closer as he handed him his bag 

“are you okay?” he asked as he crouch down to the boy’s level, it was obvious that he was not okay, his face had little scratches and his clothes were all dirty and slightly damped 

but the little boy meekly nodded and looked down on his game console, which Kenma noticed 

“I can get you a new one” he says in attempt to cheer up the little boy, he didn’t know what was pushing him to do so, but his heart broke at the sight of him broke his heart 

“mister Kodzuken, can you please get this fixed for me instead?” for the first time, the boy looked at him with sad eyes

how could he say no to that face? he took the game console and looked at the boy

“is there a reason why you want me to fix it?” he asks

“my mom worked hard to get me that on my birthday, she didn’t buy her favorite coffee, her favorite bread, she patched up her shoes instead of buying a new one, she even lied to me that she wasn’t hungry when we ate out, I don’t wanna make her sad” the boy sadly said and wore his bag

Kenma was in awe, no wonder this boy was so polite and respectful

“alright, how but I’ll call your mother now, she is needed in this situation” Kenma says as he takes out his phone

the boy slowly dictates his mom’s phone number, and when he was done, Kenma was speechless, the number was already registered as his secretary’s number

Kenma shakily presses the call button

“sir?” your voice from the other line, never seize to make his heart skip a beat

“Y/n do you happen to have a son?” his voice was still calm

“yes, how did you know sir? i have a son he’s name is Eiji, he’s eight” you happily told him

“well, I kinda caught some kids bullying him, I think that you’re needed here” he says calmly 

“oh no, my baby, i’ll be there ASAP sir, please do send the location”

“I’ll send the location to my driver, he’ll pick you up” Kenma says and hangs up as he send a quick messege and the location to his driver

Kenma was supposed to ask you out tomorrow, that was the reason why he didn’t go to the office today, he was going to surprise you at his place because he didn’t want you, the girl he liked to the horrible people of the internet

you were too pure, too kind, you always made sure to get him something to eat despite his resistance, made sure that he doesn’t overwork himself and even going to the extent where you do some of his workloads, of course he trusted you enough to do so and you’ve been working with him for four years now

but you had a child? did you have a husband? but you’re resume said that you were single? is it a boyfriend?

“you know mister Kodzuken, mama always talks about you when I ask her about her day, I think she’s got a little crush on you” Eiji smiled softly at him

which almost made the former setter melt into a puddle, the boy was adorable, and even if his original plan was to just date you, he was more than happy to have Eiji, having a mini you around made it all even better, he wasn’t fond of kids but the little boy infront of him was an exception

“I think, I can make that happen” he smiles softly

the day after you appeared looking distressed, talked to your son’s bullies and their parents at the school’s principal office with Kenma and Eiji seating beside you, you were now inside your boss’ house, he was asking you to be his girlfriend, your son happily jumping up and down beside him

how could you say no, when four years ago, you were only dreaming of this moment? 

[andromedasstarship]

i could not choose between 77-80 so i overbearingly ask u to use each of them with spencer reid if u wish 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

80. “Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner.” + 77- “If you want to leave, we can leave.”

send a prompt + character from this list! 

pairing - spencer reid x gn!reader

warnings - stress?? mostly fluff 

a/n - tysm kenna for requesting this i love you and i loved writing this. i also went overboard on this one bye! ive also never posted something this long in an ask reply before so if this looks weird BYE!

Your car had long gone cold, but you still couldn’t find the energy to pull yourself out yet. It was futile to try and wrestle your emotions into a tightly sealed box; as soon as you crossed the threshold of the town-home you shared with Spencer, you knew he’d be able to read you like a book. Damn genius profiler skills.

Taking a quick look at the time you knew you had to suck it up and go inside; you were pushing how ‘late’ you could be without him worrying something had happened on your commute home. With a deep sigh, you grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and exited the car; taking your sweet time with locking the car behind you and digging your house keys out of the bottom of your bag.

To put it simply, it had been a difficult year. It was the final year of your Phd. program and while- all things considered- you had had an amazing time, the past few months had been both physically and mentally draining. What was once your lifelong passion had suddenly started to feel like a chore; a chore you felt you weren’t even good at anymore. Almost every day was spent either in your own classes or teaching undergrads. Almost every night was spent on the final edits of your thesis or grading work from your students. The few moments of freedom you found were spent doing the boring parts of adult life: housekeeping, getting your car fixed, calling elderly family members, etc.

Neither of you had formerly addressed it, but you knew it was taking a toll on your relationship. Spencer being busy was a constant, but it was normally balanced out by your typical 9-5 schedule. But recently, even on the nights he was home you’d be too wrapped up in your own work to even sit down and eat dinner with him. By the time you crawled into bed he’d be long asleep and in the mornings you’d been leaving for work earlier and earlier in order to get research time in at the university library. It felt like the two of you hadn’t even been awake in the same room for weeks, let alone do anything relationship-y.

Tonight was supposed to change that. Kind of. His team was having a fancy dinner to celebrate some major milestone that you couldn’t remember. It’d been on the books for months, but kept getting pushed back by surprise cases. It felt like everyone held their breath this week, waiting for a case to pop up, but instead everyone was left pleasantly surprised when no such thing happened. It was going to be a great night: classic Rossi pasta dish, all partners and kids invited. Even though the two of you wouldn’t be alone, it’d still be a perfectly good excuse to get out, put on some nice outfits and have a fun evening with friends.

Spencer had been particularly excited. The past week, you felt as if it was the only thing he ever talked about. Not that the two of you were having extensive conversations. He kept talking about how great it would be to get out of the house and how much he was looking forward to having a totally work free evening. His excitement warmed your heart.

Which is why you were taking so long to find your keys. Today had been one of the hardest day you’d experienced in a long time. The thesis meeting you had with your advisor- that you’d been staying up late every night editing for- had gone horribly; it was as if everything you prepared was wrong. Almost every student in the class you taught scored poorly on the latest assessment- on a unit you considered yourself an expert on-, something you viewed as a failure of your ability to convey the info. And to top it all off, even though you felt as if you’d spent hours upon hours working yourself to the bone the past week- in order to clear space for tonight-, you still felt as if you had piles of work to catch up on.

You knew the stress and tension of the day would read clear on your body as soon as Spencer got a look at you. And with how excited he’d been, you absolutely didn’t want to ruin the dinner. You’d hate for him to feel as if you were being selfish or that you couldn’t even prioritize him in your schedule.

You took one last deep breath, before going to put the key into the doorknob. Just as you touched the handle, the door swung open from the other side.

“Jesus!” You exclaimed, one hand clutching your chest as you nearly jumped out of your skin. In front of you was Spencer, smiling down at you with that irresistible grin of his.

“Did I scare you? Sorry. I thought I heard you car pull up earlier and when you didn’t come in I thought maybe something was wrong so I wanted to come check-”

You quickly cut him off- even though you did find his worrying a bit endearing- by pressing a quick kiss to his lips. 

“A good song came on just as I pulled in, couldn’t just get out.” You lied, adding a small laugh for effect. It was an on brand situation for you, something certainly believable. If Spencer had any doubts, he didn’t question you, simply moved out of the doorframe so you could step in.

Inside the house, you set your bag down by the front door like you always did. While kicking your shoes off, you pulled your jacket off, smiling when Spencer had his hands already open to hang it on the rack. You knew he had that ridiculous memory- and you had a pretty set routine-, but it still made your heart swell every time he anticipated your next move and went the extra mile to be helpful.

“So, how was your day?" Spencer asked, as the two of you made your way to the kitchen area. “What’d Professor Addams have to say in your meeting?”

You clenched at the handle of the fridge, grinding your teeth before pulling the door open. When you turned to look at Spencer, you saw he made himself comfortable on one of the countertop stools.

“Went well. They gave me some uh, um, some comprehensive revisions.” You said flatly, turning back to face the fridge; missing the skeptical look Spencer was throwing you.

“That’s good?” He said slowly, before adding, “well how was class? You just wrapped up the last unit didn’t you?” You both knew he knew the answer, but was just attempting to further the conversation. Had it been any other day you would’ve found it endearing, but today just wasn’t that day.

You slammed the fridge door shut, just hard enough to be cause for concern. “I thought tonight was absolutely no shop talk. Huh? Why don’t we just start that rule now.” You said, a slight edge to your voice. It’s not his fault, it’s not his fault.

“Are you okay-”

“Yes! I just don’t-”

“If there’s something wrong, you know you can tell-”

“There’s nothing wrong-”

“Do you need to stay-”

“Stop!” You exclaimed, bringing an end to the constant cutting each other off. “Everything is fine. Okay?” You said, unable to maintain eye contact.

Spencer slowly nodded, though you could tell he didn’t believe an ounce of what you had just said. Luckily for you, he seemed to let it go, falling back in his seat.

“I’m gonna go shower and get ready and then we can leave, alright?” You asked rhetorically. When he just nodded again, you very quickly walked up to him and pressed another quick kiss to his lips. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

---

The ride to Rossi’s was silent, something that normally wouldn’t have bothered either of you had it not been for the borderline argument you had in the kitchen. As you pulled up a few cars down from the house, you caught Spencer staring at you from the passenger seat, a slightly concerned look on his face.

“Stop doing that.” You huffed out, but there was no real bite in your voice.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked gently, reaching out to push a piece of your hair away from your face. God that was sweet.

You quickly nodded and threw a very forced smile his way, not quite meeting his eyes. “I’m fine. I promise, come on.” You said, killing the engine and pushing open your car door.

Before you could fully open the door, Spencer’s arm shot out across your body and pulled the door back shut with a bang.

“Spencer!” You yelped, startled by his sudden movement. You turned and gave him a bewildered look.

“You always look over my head when you lie.” Spencer stated.

“Oh I do not-” You started, but letting the sentence fall flat as soon as you realized you currently were looking over his head.

“Your favorite song came on the radio, twice, on the drive here and you didn’t react at all either times.” He said. When you still didn’t say anything he continued. “What’s going on? You know you can tell me.”

The look he was giving you was making you feel all sorts of guilty. Of course he cared, that’s why you loved him so much. You just didn’t want to ruin something that’d been in the works for so long, all because you had a bad day.

“Spencer,” you started, giving him a very pointed look and making sure to hold eye contact, “I’m fine. Can we just go in?”

Spencer shook his head, externally searching your face for more clues while also internally thinking back to any clues from your kitchen fight. “We aren’t going anywhere, until you talk to me.” He urged.

It probably wasn’t the best move on his part, seeing as you both were incredibly stubborn. The two of you were unrelenting, both staring blankly at the other; hoping the other one would break first. After nearly 5 minutes of silence, it became very clear that neither of you were standing down anytime soon.

Spencer reached his hand out again, gently cupping your cheek; internally you cursed your body’s natural reaction to lean into his touch. “What’s going on?” He asked, voice much softer than earlier.

You were internally screaming over how caring he was. Damn him! You cursed yourself for not being able to just play the role of perfect partner for one night.

“I’m exhausted.” You said, voice quiet. “My meeting went horrible day. I absolutely failed at teaching my students the last unit. I’ve been bringing so much work back to the house I haven’t even been able to give you a second of attention. And now we have this dinner that you’ve been looking forward to for months and I don’t want to ruin-”

This time, it was Spencer that quickly cut off your rambles with a kiss.

“Do you want to leave?” He asked, as if it were the most simple thing ever

You gave him a shocked look. “Spencer, you’ve been talking about this dinner for weeks. I, I can’t ask you to put this off, you and the team rarely get time to-”

“If you want to leave, we can leave.” He said. His voice was so sincere it made the whole thing that much more difficult. He was too good.

“Spencer, no.” You said, putting special emphasis on the ‘no’. “We haven’t even walked in the door, there’s nothing to leave yet. I’m not going to ruin the dinner we’ve all been planning on for months. I’ll be fine for a couple hours.”

He didn’t answer, instead pulled his phone out and quickly started to type out a text.

“What are you doing?”

“Texting Rossi, I’m gonna tell him you aren’t feeling well and we can’t come anymore.”

“We’re outside his house! It’s not a big deal-!

“Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner!” Spencer cut you off, giving you a very pointed look. You weren’t sure your heart could take the swelling much longer.

“Spencer, you’ve been planning-”

“I don’t want to hear it-”

“You’ve wanted to get out of the house for so long!” You stressed, giving him a ‘duh’ look.

“We can go do something else!” He replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Just us, no pressure to be ‘on’ in front of anyone else.” That did sound good- No!

“I’m not gonna be the one who keeps their boyfriend away from his friends-”

“I see them every day. Every day. One dinner means nothing.” Spencer said confidently, clasping your hand tightly between his.

You contemplated for what seemed like hours; though it couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of something in my life.” Spencer said, giving you a very mock serious look; you couldn’t help but laugh at that. “There you are.” He said, smiling to match yours.

You turned the car on, clicking your seatbelt back into place. “So, where to pretty boy?” You asked.

“Well, I heard of this new ice cream place that just opened up. Their ‘claim to fame’ is they make over 50 flavors in store every single day. Did you know on average it takes nearly three hours from start to finish to make a single batch of ice cream? Or that when ice cream-”

You shook your head in amusement, chancing a couple glances in his direction as you were driving. You loved his excited ramblings and animated hand motions as he further explained the history of ice cream; as well as all the random facts about the place he was directing you to. As you got closer to your new destination, all you could think about was how lucky you were to, to be loved by someone who always knew just what to say.

---

permanent tags - @sunflowersandotherthings

[justthehiddleswrites]

Ocean Eyes | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary:  You have been spying a guy in the coffee shop. Fate should bring you together. Little to you realize the guy with the ocean eyes is the one and only Tom Hiddleston.

Warnings: implied smut

-

7:30 every morning on the dot. Every morning, those dangerously blue eyes come in, order a large coffee and pastry before settling into a small table in the corner. He would leisurely sip the coffee while pulling apart the pastry with his fingers. He would lick the tips of fingers, capturing every crumb.

You spied at him over the top of your laptop. His ginger curls tucked under a ball cap. His workout clothes are high quality but well worn. But most of all, you remember those brilliant blue eyes.

“Pardon me, is this seat taken?” a voice asked you one morning. You pushed your glasses back up on the bridge of your nose to see those eyes you dream about staring at you.

“Huh?” you mumbled, your brain deciding words were not important.

A kind smile spread across his face, the skin crinkling around his eyes in a way that made your stomach flip. “The seat?” he gestured to the chair in front of you. “Is it taken?”

“No!” you responded a bit too eager, earning you a small chuckle from the man. You cleared your throat. “No. Please go right ahead.”

“Thank you. I have never seen this place so crowded.” He commented as he unwrapped his sweet pastry.

You glanced around to see the usually quiet coffee shop bustling with activity.

“Hmm. Weird.” You chewed on your lip as the man popped his thumb into his mouth. Your mind wandered to other places you wanted that mouth to be.

“Excuse my manners,” he wiped his hand on a napkin. “The name’s Tom.” He extended his hand which you shook as you introduced yourself.

You returned your attention to your screen, not wanting to disturb Tom’s schedule.

He tipped his head to spy on your screen. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is this masterpiece you are writing?”

You glanced up to see Tom smiling in anticipation. You laughed at his expression.

“My thesis for my degree.”

“Which is?”

“English literature.”

His blue eyes sparkled at your words.

“I graduated from Cambridge in Classics. What’s the topic?” He leaned in close, scooting his chair around the table to sit next to you. His leg pressed against yours.

“Dickens.” you choked out.

“I adore Dickens. I happen to have read quite a bit of his through my work.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What exactly is your work?”

“I’m an actor. So… Dickens?”

“Yeah. The title is "You Can Be Useful to Us in a Hundred Different Ways”: A Study of Stage and Screen Adaptations of Dickens’s Nicholas Nickleby.”

Tom slapped his leg. “This is fate. I was in a production of Nicholas Nickleby.”

“What company?”

“BBC One.” Tom’s head dropped to his chest.

“Are you shitting me?” Your coffee cup dropped to the floor, spilling the dredges of tea onto the floor and Tom’s leg. “Fuck!”

You grabbed spare napkins and dabbed at the splotches of coffee on Tom’s calf.

“Don’t worry yourself. I have to shower anyway.” Tom snatched the cup off the floor. “Let me buy you a replacement.”

“That’s really…” Tom was already up and in line. “… not necessary.” your voice trailed off at the end.

Tom gave you a smile and wave from the line. Your cheeks heated, and you returned your attention to your screen. A coffee appeared next to you.

“Thank you, T—” You looked up to see a young male employee staring down at you.

“He asked me to give this to you. He apologizes, but he had to leave on a pressing matter.”

Your heart sunk. You had hoped to talk to Tom more. And perhaps learn what other roles he had performed. Maybe even more.

You lifted the cup to your lips, and caught something scrawled on the side. It was too long to be your name. You raised the cup to eye level to read.

Call me to talk about Dickens and more.

Tom

Below was what you could only assume was his mobile number. The smile grew on your face as you entered the number into your phone.

-

Your confidence from that morning faded by lunchtime. The number now haunted you, taunting you on the screen.

“Pull yourself together.” you muttered as you hit the dial button.

“Hello?” Tom’s voice echoed on the other side.

“Hi!” your voice high pitched with nerves. “You probably don’t recognize my voice—”

Tom called out your name with excitement. “Of course, I recognize your voice. I was worried you wouldn’t get my message. I’m glad you called.”

Your cheeks heated at his voice. “You wanted to talk Dickens?” you stammered out, your voice ended at a half an octave higher than it started.

“Right!” Tom exclaimed. “I am unfortunately tied up for the rest of the day, but how about dinner tomorrow?”

“Yes!” you responded a little too eager. Tom stifled a chuckle. “I mean. Yes, that would be nice.”

The two of you settled on a restaurant within walking distance from your home before Tom had to get off the phone. You hung up the phone and spent the rest of the day with a smile on your face.

-

“So exactly what do you know about him?” your best friend, Caroline questioned.

“He’s an actor and prefers coffee over tea.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow.

“And he has these amazing blue eyes.” Your eyes glazed over.

“There it is.” she leaned back in her chair. “This is more than just academic. You have feelings for this man.”

You sighed. “You would too if you saw those eyes. They are like the ocean.”

“You get lost in them.” Caroline bantered back.

“And the rest of the package is nice as well.” Your cheeks heated as your mind wandered to the thought of Tom is those running shorts.

Caroline watched as you lose in your thoughts for a moment or two before clearing her throat.

“Did you say something?” you asked as you snapped back to reality.

Caroline giggled into her hand. “No, but now that I have your attention away from Ocean Eyes’s assets. What has he acted in?”

“He was in some BBC One production of Nicholas Nickleby.” You held up a low-cut top. “Too much?”

“Not if you don’t want to make it to the restaurant. Did you look him up on IMDb?”

“What is that?”

Caroline scoffed as she whipped her phone out. “And you call yourself an academic. What’s his last name?”

Your chin dropped. “I didn’t ask.” you mumbled.

“Cripes on a cracker.” Caroline typed furiously on her screen. “Lucky you’re alive is what you are. Tall or short?”

“Hmm? Oh, tall.”

Caroline scrolled and then stopped as her eyes widened. “You have got to be fucking kidding me?!?” she whispered.

“What?”

“You are FUCKING KIDDING ME!” she bellowed. “How do…” Caroline gestured at you “… Gah!”

“Who is he? Someone I should know?” you asked as you attempted to spy her screen.

“You are going on a date… with Tom Hiddleston!” Caroline flipped her screen around and your mouth dropped open.

-

“It’s not a date, Luke. We are just going to talk Dickens.” Tom explained over the phone.

“Bollocks. Are you or are you not paying for the meal?”

“Of course. I pay for your meal. Does that mean we are dating?” Tom said with a grin.

“You’re not my type and you know it, Thomas. Did you shave?”

“Not yet.”

“But you plan to. The last time you shave for me I believe it was because you lost a bet with Ben.”

“I was robbed.”

“You are such a sore loser. When is this non-date date?”

“Later today.”

“I need to stop by and drop off the contracts.”

“Sounds good, Luke. Just let yourself in.”

-

Tom had expected Luke to come straight over, but the minutes ticked by and he needed to get ready for tonight. He realized he lied to Luke earlier, but he didn’t care.

Tom had noticed you over the past month in the coffee shop. He spied when you stole glances at him. And he wanted to talk to you for so long but couldn’t find a natural way to start a conversation until that day.

Tom stepped out of the shower and stood in front of the mirror examining the healthy amount of stubble on his jaw.

“A little mood music.” Tom popped on an 80s playlist.

-

Right as Luke was ready to head out to Tom’s, he received a phone call he had to take. Several hours later, he headed out to the door, contracts in hand.

“What started out as friendship has grown stronger..” flitted through the air to the sound of an 80s power ballad.

Luke headed upstairs and beelined to the bedroom. He put the contracts on the dresser.

“And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight.” Tom sang from behind the bathroom door.

Luke couldn’t resist sneaking a peek. Tom stood in front of the mirror, brush in hand, music blaring.

“And I can't fight this feeling anymore.

I've forgotten what I started fighting for.

It's time to bring this ship into the shore.” Tom belted the song with the brush. His hips shook underneath the towel wrapped around his waist.

Luke suppressed a chuckle before yelling out. “Shake it, mate!”

Tom threw the brush into the air as he jumped.

“Not bloody funny, Luke!” Tom gripped the towel in place.

“Didn’t realize I was representing a teenage girl?” Luke laughed.

“Out.” Tom jabbed a finger to the door.

“Did you learn those moves from your sisters? Is this how you get pumped for a big date?” Luke continued.

Tom stomped towards Luke. Luke stumbled backwards.

“Not another word.” Tom flicked his finger in front of Luke’s face.

Luke pressed his lips together and decided, “fuck it.”

“Must be some girl to get the full REO Speedwagon treatment.” Luke ducked as Tom grabbed the contracts and hurled them at his head.

“You’re lucky I like you.” Tom growled.

“Read those tomorrow, mate. Have fun.” Luke ran from Tom’s sight.

-

Tom’s mood perked up when he stepped into the restaurant and spied you sitting at the bar. And it only got better from there.

Conversation flowed as easily as the wine did at dinner. Before long the waiter came by.

“Last call. We are closing in ten minutes.”

“Oh shit!” you cursed as you shuffled to standing. “I didn’t mean to keep you out this late.”

Tom rose as well and grabbed your hand as you pushed your purse onto your shoulder to leave. His blue eyes sparkled and your heart skipped a beat.

“I didn’t mind the company.” Tom smiled that eye crinkling smile. “If it is not too forward, can I walk you home?” He did not let go of your hand. The connection sent electricity through your arm.

“I would like that very much.” You gave his hand a brief squeeze.

The brisk evening air chilled you. You took full advantage to press close to Tom’s side, who threw his arms around your shoulder. Soon the two of you reached your front door.

“This is me.” you commented, trying to hide the sadness in your voice.

Tom’s eyes dropped for a moment. “I guess this is goodnight.”

“But not goodbye?” you asked, hope in your voice.

“Not on my part. I would very much like to see you again.” Tom turned to face you.

“I would very much like to see you too.”

Tom smiled, and he fidgeted, rocking back on his heels.

“Can I ask you a question?” you muttered.

“I’m not sure…” Tom chuckled. “… can you?”

Your brows furrowed. “Not funny. Why didn’t you tell me you were a famous movie star?”

Tom’s eyes widened. “Honestly, I thought you knew. You kept sneaking glances at me in the shop. I just assume…” his voice trailed off as your face twisted up in confusion. “… was a mistake. You really didn’t know?!”

You shook your head. “My friend looked you up on IMDb.”

“Then why the stares?”

“Your eyes.” Your head dropped to your chest.

“What about my eyes?” Tom stepped closer, his hand reached up to pull your head up.

In the dark evening, Tom’s eyes were dark blue, the streetlights sparkled against them. You bit your lip.

“They remind me of the ocean. Deep and wide. Someone could get lost at sea.”

“Then let me be your anchor.” Tom closed his eyes as he leaned down to press his lips against yours. And you were lost.

You sighed against him, and he pulled you tight against him. Jolts shot through your body and when the two of you parted, you both were breathing heavy.

“Um…” you muttered, biting your lip. “… wow.”

“Yeah.” Tom joined in. “Can I meet you for coffee tomorrow? Our usual place?” He continued to hold you tight.

You tugged on his jacket lapels. “That is one idea or…” you raised an eyebrow. “… we could walk there together from my place.”

Tom’s mouth dropped open before curling into a devilish smile. “What kind of guy do you take me for?”

You tugged him down close to your face by the lapels. You leaned into close. “The kind of guy that does what he wants.”

“Then you are absolutely right.” Tom pulled you into a passionate kiss again.

[crushzone]

Hello my lovely your smut is god tier💞. Could i request a cheeky threesome between ennoshita and akaashi (seeing as they are both next gen captains😘). Reader is a bit of a switch. Thank you and enjoy your day.

Blue Petals ❀ Part 1 (NSFW) -Haikyuu!!-

Character: Ennoshita Chikara x Fem!Reader x Akaashi Keiji

Summary: The pressure of bidding good bye becomes immense, as a manga artist, her editor (Akaashi), and her roommate (Ennoshita), reflects on the nature of their relationship and what they want out of it after their second to last weekly meeting at her apartment.

Word Count: 7,842

Contents: Love triangle, time skip characters, mutual pining (every character is attracted to one another), steamy make out session, slow burn.

Additional Notes:

Carla, I know you didn’t ask for all this love triangle part 1 for this fic, but I can’t help it omg. I promise you, you WILL get ALL the steamy threesome smut action in part 2 haha. 😏

It should be up sometime soon, I’ve already written it, just needs proofreading. The navigation to part 2 will appear with a clickable link when it is up. 👍🏻

Blue Petals, is drawn from my senior thesis short film title that I had to make for my Film major. However, the plot for the short had nothing to do with the one that I came up for Y/n’s manga, I simply drew the name from it.

>>> PART TWO

Please do not repost my work ✨

Characters are aged up.

Water…running through my fingers —This must be the way she felt when it skids down her bare back.

He wishes he can shape shift — to become one with this water and caress your smooth skin with his warm droplets.

Ennoshita leans against the sink, turning the faucet off as he absentmindedly shake his hands mid air, springing droplets off the tip of his digits, as if he’s loosely attempting to rid his fascination of you.

This is wrong. It’s going to complicate things. Just…Irrational.

His large hands brace the corner of your shared marbled counter, mind refusing to shut off as it rebels, sprinting a thousand miles a minute in the direction he is desperately trying avoid.

The drip from the faucet casts a constant rhythm to the, otherwise, silent apartment. He mentally curses as he brings his dampened hand to rotate the knob, droplets growing fainter as it cease.

He loves his job, he really does, and he excels at being a physical therapist. The amount of hours he’s put into acquiring this job, the efforts he put into remembering his patient’s names, and the smile he puts on to encourage them to stay strong, really pays off in the end.

However, today, every second when he was not tending to his patient, and when he was alone in the sea of hustling scrubs, his mind betrayed him; the image of you walking out of the restroom at 5 AM, this morning, in just your soaked towel. The way the droplets on your naked shoulders glisten under the faint kiss of tungsten that peaks from your bedroom, like gold dragon scales, so majestic yet delicate.

He had just tumbled out of his room, half asleep, in just boxers and black t-shirt. His eyes immediately widen when it met yours, a suppressed squeal escapes your throat, as you fumble with the top of your plushy towel. 

However, that didn’t help because by hastily pulling it further up your Décolleté, only revealed your other round asset that peaks from the bottom hem.

“I’m so sorry!” You both muster in great embarrassment, as footsteps spiral down opposite ends of the corridor. When the doors slammed with a bang, Ennoshita slid to the ground with a hand over his heated face.

Oh boy.

This was not his first encounter either, from years of high school together and 2 years of being your roommate, he’s well aware of your clumsiness. But that also makes you so painfully endearing.

Now, back to the sink where he hovers, steadying his breaths as he could feel his member push the sturdy fabric of his trousers taut.

This can’t be happening right now, in a few minutes, you’re going to walk through the door and se-

Click.

His rhythmic breaths hitch when he could hear the click of the lock, and the twist of the knob.

“Chikaraaaa-kun, I’m home! I brought you your favorite pineapple pecan cake from the bakery nearby.” You bump the door open with your hip as you clumsily shuffle through the entrance, arms bracing stack of folders and a laptop. Then you shut the door with your elbow, bumping your hip against the wooden fixture as you rotate the lock.

The fear of getting caught mid-boner should’ve given him the fuel to suppress it, but oddly, it only worsens when he sees you, standing there so effortlessly beautiful and ridiculously oblivious to his fascination of you.

“Thank you, Y/n-san!” He responds, turning his head to offer you a smile while his hips remain glued to the cool sink. “I cooked us some dinner, it’s all in the fridge. I barely saw you this week, so I don’t mind waiting to eat mine after your meeting with Akaashi.”

You were already in the middle of preparing for the meeting with your manga editor, eagerly spreading your portfolios all over the dining table, and clearing any other unnecessary decorations to make room.

“That is so thoughtful, thank you so much! I appreciate ya.” You turn to him with a wide smile, ignoring the warmth that cradles your cheeks.

He makes you so happy, so very happy.

There had always been something that draws you to him, even from the first day he’d introduced himself at Karasuno.

The way his voice is as warm as a cup of hot cocoa, and his gentle eyes scan your face with the most genuine smile. He reminds you of the comfort and warmth of a sweater, a piece of homeliness you get to bring with you, even when you are somewhere unexplored and cold. He’s always had your back at times when you feel like flopping, and likewise, when you would cradle him in your embrace as he falls into quiet tears at moments when he’d undermine himself of his capabilities.

Chikara is a warm sense of familiarity, a sunrise that promises a new day, the fragrance of trustworthiness that you are incredibly drunken on. Every night when you would bid each other sweet dreams, there would always be a subtle moment of hesitation before soft footsteps saunter across the corridor to your respective rooms. When the doors shut, you always curse at the way your feet rebel, how it tear your chances to run the opposite direction and into his arms nightly.

Because he is your roommate. And that would be complicated.

A rational portion in your mind whispers, shining a lone beam of light through your fog of infatuation, as you will your gaze away from his chocolate orbs.

Your admiration for Ennoshita had far exceeded friendship, even before you’ve decided to move in together as roommates. Till this day, you wonder why you were the one to insist on rooming if you knew you had always been in love. Perhaps his homeliness made you wonder what it would be like to come back to his gentle smile after work, or maybe it was because you didn’t want to let go of your muse.

And then there’s Akaashi…If Ennoshita reminds you of the the warm sun, Akaashi is the calmness of the ocean. The cooling sea breeze that kisses your skin with a gentle mist from dancing tides.

At the thought of him, a series of gentle knocks on the door snaps the tension from the air as you scurry to open it.

Meanwhile, Ennoshita remains by the counter, mentally crafting an escape as the thought of seeing Akaashi’s cooling eyes would only worsen his predicament. Using his quick wit, he takes advantage of the commotion to spring himself from the counter, speed-walking across the dining room, then up the stairs.

“I’ll leave you guys to it!” He says cheerily, when he’s already halfway up.

Akaashi had just stepped in and is removing his shoes as you close the door. “Oh, okay! I’ll let you know when we’re done.”

“You don’t have to lea-“ He begins, but is cut short when Ennoshita quickly waves at him.

“Hi Akaashi-san, please make yourself at home.” He says, before immediately disappearing behind his bedroom door.

Had our weekly meetings been inconvenient for him this whole time? If so, maybe the next should be held elsewhere. Akaashi wonders, a little concerned at his strange behavior as he absentmindedly readjusts the small paper bag on his wrist.

“Is he okay?”

“I think so?” But truthfully, you’re not convinced that he is. “He probably just wanted some time alone.” You revise, walking him to the dining table.

“Oh, I brought you and Ennoshita-san some Yaki Tomorokoshi by the way.” He waves the bag gently, its cotton strings left the faintest mark on his slim wrist.

“Akaashi-kun! You really didn’t have to.” You can’t help but smile, grateful that the people in your life had been so kind and thoughtful. “If you’re up for it, maybe we can all watch a movie later so we can enjoy the dinner that Ennoshita-kun cooked, your Yaki Tomorokoshi, and the pineapple pecan cake I bought!”

A soft smile graces his lips as his hooded eyes linger on the wooden ground, a little too shy to meet yours. “That would be nice.”

And you beam at his response, finding warmth radiate your heart as your scalp tingles, nearly exploding at how precious you thought his little smile was.

What started off as a distraction from Ennoshita, only worsened when you and Akaashi grew closer through your line of work. He was there with you from the first chapter of your manga, where you’d meet up weekly to discuss revisions. Your meetings usually take place at restaurants, and you find yourself lingering after, ordering some extra sake and Daifuku as you spend the final hours of the night, chatting

He seats himself in his usual spot across from you, and you do the same after you’ve placed his grilled corn in the fridge, next to your dessert and Ennoshita’s cooking.

His quiet demeanor, professionalism, and calculating eyes were intimidating. but they gradually grow on you overtime, when you learn that he is just as shy as you are, and is also prone to occasional clumsiness as well. It’s really endearing.

One day, as you two were waiting for your checks to return, he’d asked about your manga’s source of inspiration, reasoning that he’d also been in search for his own, so he can write his short novel.

So with some hesitance, you described Ennoshita to him, without the mention of his name, and it got him very fascinated.

“Is this person, who inspired your protagonist, around? I’d love to meet him one day.”

It felt strange, describing your deep-rooted fondness for your crush to the other, but you also felt embraced, both by the thought of Chikara and by Akaashi’s undivided attention for you.

“He is, he’s actually my roommate.” You responded, nervously, taking a sip of your warm water as you try to drown the sudden flutter of nervousness with it.

His brow raised slightly, as he leaned on his palm, never dropping the gentle smile that adorned his soft looking lips.

“I’d love to meet him one day. What’s his name?”

“Ennoshita. Ennoshita Chikara.” Your eyes brightened at the mention of your friend’s name, forgetting for a second that you were talking to Akaashi. But when you linked your gaze to his dusty green orbs, your brows quirked when you realized his smile had widened.

“Oh. I know him.”

Since that day, you began offering your apartment for meetings, and it’s been that way for over two years now. Initially, Ennoshita would lock himself in his room to give you and Akaashi some privacy, but when you both assure that his company is welcomed; after all this is his apartment too, he eased up and fell into the routine of reading a book on the couch, while you work quietly at the dining table behind it.

However, you notice he had been distant lately, and you wonder if it had to do with you spending more time with Akaashi.

Ennoshita is on his bed, head spinning in a cocktail of thoughts. His fingers lightly graze the expanse of his exposed abs as he sighs, pulling his shirt back down and firmly lacing his hands over it.

That was a close one.

He’s lost track of time, it felt like hours since he’d locked himself in his room, taking steady breaths as he slowly glided his fingers over his sensitive skin, a desperate simulation of skin ship, to slowly suppress the urge of pleasuring himself to the thought of you and Akaashi. It was a rough battle as his mind constantly alternates between what it must feel like to plant gentle kisses to your soft skin, then to his calloused hands firmly running across the terrain of Akaashi’s sculpted body. Both souls so beautiful, yet so different in physique.

But what he yearns is beyond physical, he’s known you like the back of his hand, and your presence comforts him. You are like flowers in spring, the sweet smell of honey nectar, and your smile is the reason cloud dances to the wind under the warm presence of the tangerine sun.

He smiles in admiration of your diligence, when he would walk out of his room for water, in the middle of the night, to see you curled up by the dining table, your blue mechanical pencil in hand as you scribbled away at your manga panels. The paper lantern above you casted a cocoon of soft light that protected you from the darkness, and for a moment, it felt like he was watching you under the inky sea, and you are a mythical creature that emitted light.

He truly misses his days in Karasuno, when you would meet him after his practice to bounce story ideas for your manga, underneath the sunset’s performance, sitting side by side on the roof of an academic building.

“Oh!! Maybe Imogen and Habiki grew up in a rural area together, Habiki’s parents run a bakery shop while Imogen’s family owns an alteration store.” You say, waving your voice recorder in excitement, making sure it’s still going.

“I like that! Maybe there’s something special about this rural area. A noteworthy wonder that Habiki would instantly be reminded of when Imogen writes him letters while he is in war.” Ennoshita added, leaning back on his hands as he looked up to the sky in thought.

Screenwriting and storytelling had always interested him, and brainstorming with you inspired him to make his own films one day, maybe after your manga is done, so you can keep staring at the sun while daydreaming together.

You mimicked his stance, but instead of looking to the sky, your gaze shifted to him with a content smile. He is so beautiful: his gentle gaze unwavering as his mellow orbs embraced the splashes of pinkish hue in its glimmer, and the small smile that grazed his lips are kissed by the reflection of the fiery sky. For once, you wished you could turn into the sun, just so you can envelope his smooth skin with your warmth.

Then you were struck with an idea.

“What if…” You began, “What if there are these blue flowers that could only be grown in that area, and Imogen would always harvest and send pressed blue flowers to Habiki. He would then decorate his journal with it, sometimes even using it as a bookmark until it no longer hold its shape. It would remind him of the times when he would sit next to her, after work at his parent’s bakery, in the middle of the blue flower field, just watching sunset draw its curtains. ”

He spent a moment, allowing your imagination to sink in. Sometimes he wishes he could be your Habiki and you could be his Imogen.

You felt warmth blossom your cheeks, unsure if that was from the sun or if it was from embarrassment that you may have potentially given away the fact that Ennoshita had been your inspiration for Habiki all along.

“I like that a lot. Have you ever thought about how you’re going to end your manga? A striking image that summarizes Habiki’s long journey through war and the struggles he went through to try to find his way back home?”

Then your gaze faltered from the sky, as you looked down to your dirty shoes, subsequently tucking your chin between the basin of your knees. “No…I don’t know. All this time, I may have just been day dreaming. I don’t know if I have the talent to-“

“Y/n-san…” His tone grew serious, drawing your eyes to meet his. “There was never a moment when I’ve doubted your talent, and you shouldn’t either. I know this is something you’ve always wanted to do; to make your manga, and if it is truly what you want, I genuinely think you should pursue it.” He reached over to place a firm hand on your shoulder. “And I know starting something from scratch can be scary, but I am here for you.”

“What if no one even bothers to read it?” You sighed, turning away with a frown.

“Then I’m going to buy all 10, no 100, more like 1,000 copies of your manga and read it over and over again.” He chuckled warmheartedly. A strange flutter in your gut, slowly ascended your body at his laugh. “So what if it is a fail, you poured your heart into it, and in the end, you can come out of it knowing that you gave it your best. As long as you never give up and stick with it, even when it feels like the world is against you, is a success in its own.”

Your lips transformed into the largest smile, brows twitching in an attempt to hold back happy tears. He studied you, gaze darting between your lips and glassy eyes, breath hitched as he lost control of his body, slowly leaning towards your awaiting lips. You find yourself doing the same, your beating heart screamed to be free, to follow its will.

However…

“Chikara-kun.” You breathed, verbally forcing yourself to stop, and he did the same. “If we ever end up in the same area after university…will you be my roommate?”

He sat back up, and after a moment, he blinked away his rejection as he lifted his gaze from the concrete floor to your nervous expression with a soft smile. “Of course.”

And just like that, the sun had fully set, raven wings consumed any remaining sprinkle of flames and embers from the sky.

Does she still have the voice recording from that day? Did his facade falter when he said yes to being your roommate? If only he could have some of that audio to relive his memory with.

Like a torch that had been passed on, you no longer come to him for ideas on your manga as often as you did, instead, you would do so with Akaashi. He’s not upset, but simply nostalgic for those special moments he had with you, if anything, he’s more than happy you’ve come this far. Your manga had been selling prolifically with the help of your publisher, and is now a chapter away from being complete.

This meeting that you are having with Akaashi would probably be one of the last few chances he’d get to see him.

He chuckles under his breath, what a small world.

Though he’s never been very close with Fukurodani’s setter, he’s well aware of his existence since training camp at Saitama. The way he was able to maintain his calm demeanor, regardless of how emotional his best friend, Bokuto may be, is very noteworthy. He’d sneak glances at him during lunch and every time they walked by one another in the dorm hallway or during their tournaments, their eyes would automatically lock, followed by a small nod; a silent gesture of acknowledgement, mutual respect, and…admiration?

There’s something irresistibly charming about Akaashi that he could not put a finger on, and it doesn’t help that he only got to view him from a distance.

He’d hooked up with a few women during his time in university, especially on nights when he’s desperately touch starved for you, but he never thought he’d be into men. When he’d met Akaashi, perspective widened, gender and preferences are no longer black and white, as it became fluid, like a string of yarn, dancing care freely in the wind. His charm is beyond gender, it is his own.

However, he’d never thought too much about it because the opportunity to grow closer were slim, training being hectic and all. Until recently, when you would bring him here for weekly meetings.

What started with small glances when he’d enter and politely remove his shoes, perfectly lining it in parallel to the edge of the mud carpet, to the way he looks at you in fascination, leaning on his palm with a soft smile as you ramble vibrantly about your narrative ideas.

He’s not upset, not one bit, if anything, it’s comforting to know someone finds you as special as he does. Someone who could care for you when he couldn’t be there right away. It’s a confusing mix of attraction: your familiar comfort and warmth, like freshly done laundry, so warm and comfy to lay on, versus his exciting, serene, and unexplored presence, like the sweet smell of petrichor as he bikes by a rice field after it’d rained; both equally as attractive and inviting.

Then his phone lights up beside him, intervening his train of thought.

Y/n ☀️ [20:28]

We’re all good!! Ready for din din whenever you are 🐷

He chuckles softly at the endearing way you text.

Chikara [20:28]

Be out in a sec! :)

Then he sets his phone down, takes a deep breath, and palms his bulging member. Quickly realizing:

I guess I’m going to need more than a second…

You shut your folder with a sigh, drawing both knees to your chest, and leaning it against the table, clearly comfortable under his presence to allow your antics to slip. “Thanks again, for coming over, Akaashi. I can’t believe we’re a meeting away from ending this manga, where’d the time go.”

He nods, discreetly fiddling his fingers under the desk while maintaining a calm expression.

“Yeah.” It was all he could say, fearful that his calm facade may slip.

What now, is this it? Should he say farewell next time? Or should he treat it like other meetings, with the excitement to see each other again. Are we more than just acquaintances? Would it be strange if he asks you and Ennoshita to spend more time with him outside work?

Frankly, this had been a reality he never wanted to accept; that the next meeting will potentially be the last time he’ll get to work with you. The industry is so fast moving, he already has another job lined up for the next manga he’ll be editing, and it will be over 50 volumes long, which meant that even if you were to come up with another, he might not even be available for it.

For a moment, the apartment is unusually still, a stark contrast to the lively meeting that had just ended. Silence weighs heavily, but you allow it to sink, too bummed to fight it off. So you’re surprised when Akaashi attempts to dissipate it.

“Have you thought about the ending?”

Your brows furrow, suddenly feeling a lump in your throat, thinking back to the boy who began it all, under the warm presence of the setting sun. “Maybe, I have some ideas…”

You hate being nostalgic, but you realize you no longer designate a time to brainstorm and chat with Chikara, sadly wondering if he’s bothered by it; having Akaashi swoop in and take that away from him. No…he’s always been someone who’d go out of his way to help a stranger without expecting anything in return, he’s probably happy that you’ve come as far as you had.

“That’s okay.” Lifting your chin to the sound of his voice, soaring conflict in your mind calms to the sight of his timid smile. “You have some time, hopefully you’ll find something that really inspire your ending. Whatever it is, you have an amazing sense of judgement and I am sure it will be absolutely stunning.” His fiddling worsens, as he hope he had not come off too strong; he just wanted to express his believe in you.

And just like that, his comforting tide washes over your heated shore, soothing the stretch of searing rocks with its cool rhythmic ascension, like the rise and fall of a chest. Your furrowed brows relax and the lump in your throat dissolves, you feel fluid, like fine sand that slips through your fingers and on to bare feet in shy splatters.

With a smile, you respond with a nod. “Thank you, Akaashi.”

Standing up suddenly, before silence could re-materialize, you saunter to the kitchen, turning over your shoulder to smile at his confused expression. “I’m going to start heating up our food, Ennoshita-kun should be out anytime soon.”

He stands and follows you, socked footsteps barely making any sound on the wooden floor as he walks. “I can help.” You hum happily in response as you hand him one of the food containers to heat up.

Punching in the digits to your microwave, he leans against the counter as he watches you rummage through the fridge, occasionally rising to set containers on the marbled surface before kneeling back down to grab more.

Weekly meetings with you had meant so much more to him than he had anticipated, it was the first time he’d ever allowed editing sessions to be as untraditional as it had been; usually only keeping it to offices or restaurants, never at residences. However, your passion and genuine personality made it so easy for him to come out of his shell and converse more openly.

Every night when he’d return home from seeing you, he’d spend countless hours by the balcony, looking to the sparkling stars that scatter the sky like freckles, serenaded by wandering crickets and shy fireflies, with a notebook in hand. He lists the wonderful things he’d noticed about you and Ennoshita, and scribble short poems that he is a little too embarrassed to admit it is one. But just like your passion for drawing and Ennoshita’s interests in making short films in his spare time, writing is his way of encapsulating memory, to tell his own story.

Truthfully, he’s always wanted to work for a literature publication, but he can’t thank fate enough for introducing you and Ennoshita to him through this current job. His passion for literature had been adamant since he was in his adolescence, constantly blabbering attempted eloquence to his parents. As he’s gotten older, a small tree of fear roots his heart, afraid he would never find inspiration to write.

Until recently, that fear had subsided, as he would return from your meeting with a smile, eager to glide his fountain pen on the clean, stark pages of his dark blue leather journal, a present from you on his 24th birthday.

Once all the food had been heated and brought out to the coffee table in front of your small couch, Ennoshita finally emerges from his bedroom in a pair of grey sweatpants. “Sorry I took a while!” He smiles apologetically as he descends the stairs.

“No worries!! Dinner looks amazing, thank you for making it!” You respond, miming a chef kiss gesture at the food in front of you with a bright smile.

Ennoshita stops mid step, brows raised at your sudden burst of energy, slowly settling on a wide smile that gleams through his half lidded eyes. “Of course, Y/n-san. I hope there’s enough for the three of us.”

“I know I’m an unexpected addition, but thank you for letting me have some of your delicious cooking.” Akaashi’s eyes meet Ennoshita’s warm ones for a second, before it falters to the ground. His cheeks warm, and his expression may appear calm, but his fiddling fingers say otherwise.

Ennoshita’s eyes widen, suddenly feeling the urge to explode from the warmth that surfaces his subtly puffed chest. “I’m…I’m happy you enjoy them”.

“Akaashi-kun also brought some Yaki Tomorokoshi, so I think between your food, that, and my cake, we should be pretty good.” You add, hopping on to the center of the couch and bringing your knees to rest against your chest as you look to them, a remote in hand. “Would you be down for The Handmaiden by Park Chan-wook?” (This movie is so good omg, HIGHLY recommend watching it.)

They nod simultaneously, feeling the sofa dip significantly as they wordlessly join you on the couch, Ennoshita to your left and and Akaashi to your right. You giggle at how huge the two of them are in contrast to the tiny loveseat, turning around to unfold the fleece blanket and casting it over the three of you like a bird spreading its wings.

“We’re going to get food on the blanket!” Ennoshita jokes, folding the soft material so it only covers his back. You laugh, knowing full well that he would say that, but you did it anyway.

Meanwhile, Akaashi bundles the front of his blanket around him like a half burrito, silently reaching over for his Yaki Tomorokoshi, and holding it with both hands as he eats, eyes watching you and Ennoshita comfortably: This feels like home, under both your warm presence, and he cannot express his gratitude to finally meet someone that makes him so content.

Halfway through the movie, with all your empty dishes in the sink, the three of you are bundled under the same plushy blanket as the plot grows darker and darker with twists you’d never expect. You can’t help but dig your curled toes a little deeper into the cushion, while Ennoshita shifts toward the edge of his seat, as Akaashi leans further back, head resting against the back cushion. Three set of eyes, trained firmly to the illuminating screen with great intensity.

Then out of nowhere, you are hit with one of the hottest and most beautifully shot sex scenes you’ve ever seen. (Yea, like damn, it got me feeling things when I watched it 👀 If you’ve seen this movie, you know what I’m talking about.) Suddenly, the pressure to stop your eyes from diverging off screen becomes paramount, the three of you scramble to shackle your imagination before it scurries off to other lewd fantasies that extend beyond the movie.

Umm…is this where you joke about it to elevate the awkwardness? But dammit, the scene was too well done, you can’t think of anything silly to say.

You all visibly stiffen, suddenly hyper aware of the way your outer legs and shoulders touch, feeling your respective cores heat and breath hitch at the attempt to steady it. The couch suddenly feels like a bubble, frustratingly suffocating, as it confines the three of you in this tight predicament. But when you try to make yourself smaller, so your bodies are not in contact, your hands accidentally brush theirs, and you could not have pulled them away any faster than you had, mentally cursing at the way electricity courses through your skin like wildfire.

The little hand grazing accident heightened the tension, as Akaashi is no longer able to keep his quirk in check, instantly bringing clammy fingers to fiddle on his lap. Distracted by his movement, you were unaware of Ennoshita’s glance, quickly shifting back to the screen when you turn to him. Gosh, how he wishes he could at least give you a small kiss on your warm cheeks.

Gulping at how the sofa on-screen closely mimics the color of the one you are seated on, you will yourself from overthinking; it’s fine, your activities on it are as different as night and day. Totally fine…Puffing your cheeks like a goldfish, you exhale steadily, but the sound did not go unnoticed by two pair of glimpsing eyes.

In the movie, two characters kneel before one another, intoxicated in their share of yearning kisses for any care in the world. This short sequence drags on because the sexual tension in the air is as dense as hardened concrete.

Here’s the scene from the movie. I censored it out for u LOL.

You wonder…wonder how it would feel to draw them to your lips…Would they resist? Or would it shatter all this tension and bring forth clarity to the complication of your friendship. No…you shouldn’t be thinking these things, it’s wrong, so wrong, and your friendship is as clear as day…right?

But then you realize you may not be the only one with this curiosity.

If your friendship were purely platonic…what’s with the sexual tension?

The two men shift, playing it out as if they were stretching their sore muscles from poor posture, but it was actually a desperate attempt to subtly readjust their growing erections. You noticed, you totally did, and decides to take this opportunity to cross your legs tightly, relying on the soft blanket to shield your flexed inner thighs, sinfully enjoying the friction your denim offers with its thick seams.

Ennoshita’s and Akaashi’s mind are whirling as they try to come up with a solution to the potentiality of you noticing their growing members, thinking of different excuses, only to resurface with none.

Ennoshita debates if an excuse to the restroom would seem too obvious that he’s ridiculously turned on, while Akaashi wonders what Bokuto would do in this situation, since he’s always so up front and unabashed about most things. Then, by sheer accident, their eyes meet, cheeks instantly erupt in flames as they turn away non-subtly.

Is Akaashi also sporting an erection? Ennoshita wonders.

Is Ennoshita…really turned on by this too? Akaashi questions.

Meanwhile, you glance between the two, hand slowly creeping between your legs, pushing a little further into your throbbing crotch as awkwardness transform to heat.

Have you been misreading their signs? Had you been in their way this whole time? But you weren’t upset either, because the image of them, completely nude, in each other’s embrace, kneeling on the couch as their sculpted bodies merge under the soft glow of tungsten, back dimples kissed by the watchful moon, is unbearably, and ridiculously arousing.

You’re turned on by their flustered attempts at subduing their body’s natural response for sex, thankful your anatomy is not as outwardly obvious during arousal. Such gentlemen, refusing to acknowledge their mutual sexual desires.

A sudden craving for physical contact manifests as your eyes train to the television with a degree of intensity. But how should you approach this, and with who?

This is it, don’t think too hard. But were you really the one operating your thoughts? Or was it simply your mind being weary of your hesitance.

It didn’t matter, because your body had decided, hands snaking timidly outward, like a chick, spreading its wings for the first time. The stakes are so high, but you are already in the act, there’s no turning back. When your delicate fingers brush the back of their hands under the blanket, they jump at the sudden sensation of your tenderness, clearly aware that it is not a coincidence this time.

They turn to you simultaneously, lips agape and eyes widened in surprise, but you simply look between them with great curiosity, eyes so round and unintentionally coy, like a fawn meeting its pals for the first time, attempting to study their thoughts when you hesitantly hold them firmly, soft hands curling against their large palms, no longer calloused from the lack of volleyball practice.

Your lips open and shut before you stop it all together with your teeth, chewing nervously. So effortlessly alluring, like bright red rose petals, sinking and reemerging from clear water, so teasing and erratic, you just want to scoop it tenderly with both hands and draw it to your lips to still its motion. Their dark eyes are on you with a gulp, as you try to form words, but the only thing that escapes are short breathes; a cross between a sigh and desperate gasps, dying to hear some sort of response from either or them, feeling so stranded by your boldness.

And your thoughts are heard, when you feel both their large palms tighten around yours: Ennoshita’s a little clammy while Akaashi’s is shaky, but they relax you nevertheless.

“Y/n-san.”

Ennoshita breathes, cheeks incredibly warm as he mentally curses his tongue for slipping your name a little too soon. Then without a word, like the day when he was simply an eager boy trying to kiss you, he leans forward, soft eyes slowly flutter shut with every distance he crosses, relieved to see that you are also doing the same, and when you meet him in the middle, it’s as if your life had been on pause, finally discovering the courage to resume.

He smiles gently, bathing in immense satisfaction when your soft lips finally meets his plush ones in a featherlike kiss. Pressure taps at his hooded lids, tempted to burst in tears as he feels so relieved, so freaking happy to claim your lips. The kiss was so soft, like the legs of dancing butterflies, his broad chest rumbles in a low chuckle at the ticklish sensation that lingers on his smile, bringing his other hand to caress the side of your warm cheeks lovingly. He’s found closure, no longer able to imagine himself thinking back in “what ifs” to that moment, as he interlaces his long fingers with yours.

You pull apart, still drunken in disbelief that this is the same boy you went to high school with, the boy who sparked your career and had always been there for you. Then you’re suddenly overwhelmed by how much he’d grown into a man; jaws much sharper and features more defined, but the soft smiles he share with you had never changed, and that is how you know he’s still the same person you’ve fallen in love with from the very beginning.

He IS your Habiki.

But you snap back to reality when Akaashi’s palm loosens, a second away from slipping through your fingers, like a petal that had been whisked by the wind. Instead, you interlace his finger with yours, turning to look into his eyes intently. He’s caught of guard by your overwhelming attention, suddenly finding it difficult to swallow his thickened saliva from hoarding nervous breathes, heart banging frantically at the bursting blood and vessels that surrounds it.

Did he offend you? Should he leave? Her and Ennoshita are clearly meant to b-

Heat blooms in his cheeks, when you draw the back of his hand to your tender lips for permission, shattering his fragile facade as warmth flows out of his open heart like an erupted volcano, melting his entire being as he is tempted to sink further into your couch. However, his spine refuses to curl as it keeps him erect, helpless to its command like a marionette.

Should he kiss you? Is that what he wants? Or is he misreading your si-

His eyes were blank, as he never registered your face growing closer, and by the time he’d return to the present, he could feel your soft minty breath against his pointy nose, your long lashes cast a shadow over your vibrant eyes, robbing it of any glint as you look to his lips, then back up to his dilating pupils. His thoughts are cut short again when your lips brush his, testing the waves before fully submerging in his cool stretch of seawater, your lips are warm, in comparison to his cool ones, but the juxtaposition in temperature is stimulating.

You pull back a little, staring at his flustered expression that grew hungrier the longer he stares right back, you’ve stirred a tide that’s ready to draw you back with its beckoning dance. Then you’re back at it, harder this time, too drunken for each other’s magnetism to recall who was the first person to lean, as you bring the back of your entwined hand to brush at the area next to his fluttering lashes, so thick and alluring like fine owl feathers. Ennoshita watches you in fascination, thumb grazing the top of your hand; a gesture to remind you of his warm presence.

When you pull apart for breathes, Akaashi felt a surge of confidence as he sits up, green eyes drawing in Ennoshita’s brown ones, as he return his look with a blush, bringing his free hand to nervously rub away the warm tingles at his nape. Akaashi’s eyes falter timidly for a moment, before it returns with greater intensity.

No, he can’t back down, he needs to get this out in the open now.

“Ennoshita-kun…”

His eyes may appear calm, but his voice was merely a whisper that’s been thrusted into the silent atmosphere of the room, barely making it over soft mumbles from the movie that’s been long forgotten. He suddenly feels so small, like a lost kitten wailing for help, but he knows the tension had been slowly melting, and the only way to surpass this fully is by also taking initiative.

“May I kiss you too?” He asks, frankly unsure of how to initiate a kiss with someone that is not seated right beside him.

Both yours and Ennoshita’s eyes widen momentarily at his straightforwardness, before it curls into a small chuckle, finding his shyness endearing; seems like his calm demeanor was a defense mechanism to his awkwardness after all. 🥺

Was that too bold?

He was initially a little embarrassed, but is also relieved the tension in the room is close to gone.

Ennoshita brings his free hand to caress his cheek, gently drawing him over you and towards him with a smile. “I would love that, Akaashi-kun.”

And with his reassurance, they lean to one another in perfect synchronization, flushed lips colliding like the sun’s reunion with the horizon, their passion drizzling onto the water’s rippling surface in bursts of tangerines and scarlets. Someone who they thought were unattainable, no longer a reality as they hold each other firmly, hands coming up to entwine next to their moving heads, lips falling into a rhythm, as their defined jaws dance to their passion.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as your core clenches in arousal at the sight of both your crushes, sharing an intimate moment right in front of you. It is like the fantasy you’ve recently envisioned as you were watching the movie, but this is even better than what the expanse of your mind is capable of picturing. What started as separate admiration, turns out even better when you see that they had also been struggling with the concept of mutual crushing.

They pull apart, but not fully, Akaashi gently tilts his head to lovingly brush the tip of his nose against Ennoshita’s lips, still too enchanted by his warmth to leave. Ennoshita’s heart flutters at his coy gesture, inhaling shakily when Akaashi looks up to his orbs, incredibly fascinated by the way his pupils dilate, consuming steel green rings like a beating heart. Then they simultaneously turn, catching you in the act of lingering gaze as you imprint the beauty of their attraction in mind, wishing that you had your drawing pad to capture this moment on paper.

“Y/n-san…” Akaashi begins, gaze shifting sideways as he scrambles to string words that describe his feelings, however, his own understanding was never fully apparent to begin. To his relief, Ennoshita glances at him before looking back at you, finishing his sentence.

“I like you a lot, Y/n-san. I’ve always had, since Karasuno. I regret not kissing you the week before graduation…but now that I get to be here with you, as someone more than just your roommate, I want to make it clear that I’ve always liked you.” Then he turns to Akaashi.

“Akaashi-kun….I enjoy all the times you’ve spent with us, I may not know you as well as y/n does, but I’ve always been drawn to you since training camp. I like you, and I’d love to get to know you better, no longer from a distance, but right here with you.”

He looks down to your entwined fingers, arms forming a circle, this is the moment he’d always dreamt of. “I still don’t know what’s going to happen after…but I want this kiss to be a start of something, a new beginning to our relationship…if it’s what you want.”

You melt at his genuineness…He always says the right words at the right time, a great trait of a leader, and that is why you never doubted his ability as the team captain after Daichi had graduated. He can hold your hands through the wildest thunderstorm, and you’d feel like he could protect you from the inevitable temperament of nature.

“I like you a lot too, Chikara. I always had.”

“I like you too, Ennoshita-kun” Akaashi responds, eyes widening slightly when he realizes he may have accidentally cut you off, but when he turns to look at you apologetically, you just laugh it of, visibly relaxing his shoulders to the sound of your voice.

Then like a synchronized flock of starlings, you and Akaashi place gentle kisses on Ennoshita’s cheeks, eyeing each other for his consent, before slowly trailing down his defined jaws then to his long neck, now with confessions out of the way, you’re craving something more physical. He resists the urge to scrunch his shoulders, both your breaths tickling him at once, instead, he tilts his chin with shuddery breathes, allowing more room for you to explore; sensation so overwhelming but this is only just the beginning.

“I’ve never been good with words.” You breath coyly, stopping in between kisses to nibble at the bottom of his earlobe where the vertical meets horizontal, earning yourself a gasp as his body tingles. “But let me show you how much I’ve always wanted you, Chikara-kun.” He shivers at the way your voice grow softer, slowly turning to air by the time you say his name; it reminds him of the goosebumps he’d get when wind howls between the cracks of his window, a lullaby so quiet but enchanting.

Instead of responding verbally, his eyes roll to the ceiling before it flutters his shut, exhaling soft shudders as he slowly leans back on the arm rest with the guide of your hand. Meanwhile, Akaashi remains silent, but his gestures speak the opposite; he wants to express the same message through his undivided attention and touches.

Neither of you expected this moment to escalate the way it did, perhaps it was the lingering sexual tension that hung freely for years, or it may be the movie that reminded you of how touch starved you all had been, but whatever brought you here, had happened for a reason.

Because this moment, right here, right now, is where you belong.

Kisses turn to touches, and touches turns to labored breathes when Ennoshita pulls back from his heated kiss with Akaashi, wet lips looking a little bruised from passion, as Akaashi’s eyes are still heavily lidded, gaze glued on his parted lips like it’s an addiction.

Meanwhile, you trail soft kisses down Ennoshita’s neck, lingering momentarily on his bobbing Adams apple, while your other hand slowly finds its way to his crotch.

“Do you want to go to my room?”

He asks between labored breathes, nodding towards the corridor you spent years denying each other’s attraction, feeling your teasing fingers edge dangerously closer to his throbbing member, painfully pressed against the confines of his sweat pants.

>>> PART TWO

Taglist (open): @shhhlikeme @ceo-of-daichi @karasu-hoes @super-noya @nonexistent-social-life​ @scorpiosanssexy @tedwardos

[rideonwings]

The Enevitable Cliche Quarantine Story

Chapter 2

Pairing: Hiccup/Astrid

Summary: Stranger-Neighbors lean on each other during the quarantine

A/N: See, I told you all, I never start posting WIPs because I feel too guilty when I don't update them. Now here I am, weeks later, feeling like I've left you all hanging. This one is short and sweet, but hopefully worth it? Hoping everyone is staying safe and healthy out there.

AO3 Link 

Astrid: “Okay, guys, only 30 more seconds, keep those hips up! 30 seconds is nothing, then you’re done for the day!”

Astrid felt silly, talking to her phone camera like it was a crowd of people, but this was currently her source of income, so she was willing to be as enthusiastic as she possibly could.

“Okay, time! Great work everyone, go ahead and come down to your stomach, then shoulders back, stretch out those abs in a cobra.”

As she finished up the stretch routine, Stormfly took the opportune moment to come to rest under her chest. Astrid laughed, turning her head to rest her head against the cat’s soft fur.

“Thank you to everyone who participated today, thank you for taking the time for yourself, be safe, wash your hands, and stay sane! See you tomorrow!”

She reached over to stop the video, Stormfly protesting beneath her as she shifted on top of her. She then collected her yoga mat and weights and stacked them back in the corner of her apartment, wiping her brow as she went.

Settling on the couch, Astrid started reviewing the video. The lighting in her apartment wasn’t great, making the video shadowy and not particularly detailed. She’d have to figure out a better location for the future, because unfortunately, she needed as many people as possible to watch her videos, lest the gym decided she wasn’t worth keeping on the payroll. Still, she made some quick edits and posted it to the gym’s YouTube channel and Facebook page with a peppy message she wasn’t really feeling.

She was already sick of her apartment. When Astrid had decided to live here, she hadn’t been particularly picky, seeing as she normally spent a significant portion of her day outside its walls. Now, every flaw and inconvenience was right in front of her constantly, and she was over it. She had heard Hiccup leave the apartment this morning, presumably to walk Toothless, and was instantly jealous that she couldn’t join them. She vowed to go for a run later, to break up the monotony.

Grabbing herself a mug of tea and one of her books for her thesis, she found her way back out onto the balcony. Hiccup wasn’t out in his area, which she was surprisingly disappointed about: she’d enjoyed their chat yesterday. Still, she didn’t spend too much time on it, instead copying her position from yesterday with her legs pulled into her sweatshirt and delving into her book. She made notes along the margins and nocked pages as she read, finding key quotes she could later incorporate in her writing.

It was cloudier today than the day before, and the breeze was making her slightly uncomfortable. She was about to give up and head inside when the sliding door to her right opened and a messy head of hair poked out. He turned to look at her and smiled, the tiny gap in his teeth clearly visible even from this distance. Toothless slipped out between his legs and darted towards the railing to say hello to her.

“Hey!” He said exuberantly. “I was just checking to see if it was warm enough to bring my stuff out here to work. Are you cold?”

Astrid curled her legs in closer to herself, putting her mug on the ground. “Yeah, it’s not as nice as yesterday. I was thinking about going in.”

Just then, a particularly harsh gust of wind whipped through, making her shiver. She rose from the chair and began to collect her things as Hiccup winced, closing the door a bit to prevent air from getting into his apartment. “Yeah, probably a good call for now. I might come out later for a drink, if you'd want to join me?” He sounded oddly hopeful, which tugged at Astrid’s heart.

She hugged her book closer to her chest and nodded, smiling a little. Hiccup’s smile widened and he waved slightly before ducking back inside, whistling for Toothless. Astrid ducked her head and suppressed a chuckle as she made her way back inside, settling on the couch with her book.

Hiccup As he got up for the umpteenth time to stretch, Hiccup cursed his furniture choices for the hundredth time in two days. The chair he had at his desk was not exactly conducive to good posture, and his back was aching from being hunched over his monitors. As lucky as he was to have this kind of office setup in his apartment, he’d never really had to use it long term and had picked a fairly cheap office chair from a local big box store. It hadn’t seemed like a big deal at the time, but he was regretting that choice now. He felt like he had to get up every twenty minutes and shake out some kink in his back or hips.

Every time he stood up, Toothless jumped up too, following him around the apartment, obviously hoping they were going for another walk.

“Sorry, buddy, not yet,” he murmured, running his hand over the dog’s silky ears. “Give me another hour and we’ll go out.” He stretched his arms over his head, releasing the knots in his shoulders and neck. The motion twinged something lower in his back, making him sigh in frustration. Finally, he flopped onto the floor, laying flat on his back and straightening out as much as he could to align his spine.

He stared at the ceiling for a few moments before Toothless’ head appeared in his vision, obviously perplexed at why his owner was copying his signature nap position. The dog sniffed around his hairline, checking for signs of distress, before he began to lap at Hiccup’s cheeks with his tongue, making Hiccup squawk in distress and curl into the fetal position.

Toothless barked excitedly, thinking they were playing a game, and pawed at Hiccup’s back to get him to re-engage.

“Toothless, no!” Hiccup cried, swatting his arms blindly to shoo the dog away.

After a few minutes, Toothless fell into his play position, forelegs flat on the ground and rear in the air, tail whipping almost dangerously as his human rolled over to glare at him. Hiccup’s face was sticky and smelly, but he couldn’t hold a grudge against his buddy for long. He reached out with both arms and tackled the dog, pulling him against his chest and rolling around as Toothless yipped in excitement. Their tussle didn’t last long before they were both flat on the rug, both of their mouths open wide in humor.

Suddenly, Toothless’ ears perked and he jumped up and darted to the sliding door to the balcony. He’d started doing that whenever Astrid opened the door, looking to greet his new friend. The habit made Hiccup smile for more reasons than one.

Honestly, since the quarantine had started (had it only been a few days?), he’d come to realize how much of his social life had depended on his job. He had very few friends outside of work, and though he felt somewhat isolated in his apartment, he couldn’t think of anyone he really wanted to talk to. He chatted with Fishlegs while he was working, and exchanged a few messages with a few other friends, but he always struggled to come up with new topics.

But he really liked talking to Astrid. Their conversations hadn’t exactly been in-depth or long, but she seemed quick and funny and he needed that kind of conversation in his life right now.

He walked over to the balcony window, trying to get a glimpse of the blonde. From what he could see, she was wearing heavy leggings and a zip-up hoodie, and her cheeks were flushed as she leaned over the balcony railing. He slid the door open and poked his head out.

“Hey,” he greeted lamely. As she turned to look at him, he saw the glistening of sweat on her brow and noticed the shirt under her quarter zip was dark along the neckline. “Go for a run?” He asked.

Astrid nodded, still slightly out of breath. “It felt so good to be outside,” she said, popping one of her legs onto the railing to stretch. “I wanted to keep going forever.”

Hiccup’s eyes widened a little as he took in her long, toned legs in her running shorts, but forced himself to meet her gaze again and relax his expression. “I know the feeling. Those walks with Toothless are never long enough.”

“Still working?” She asked, gesturing to his open sliding door as she switched legs. He nodded, shrugging a little.

“Toothless keeps bugging me to go outside” he said, suddenly remembering that he was just nearly licked to death by the lab and he probably looked like it too. He absently ran his hands through his hair, finding it still wet.

“Oh, I could’ve taken him! I didn’t even think to ask!” Astrid said, bringing her leg down and settling into a crouch by the railing closest to Hiccup’s balcony. Toothless shoved his head through the bars as far as he could reach, forcing his eyes closed comically.

“That’s nice of you,” Hiccup replied, smiling down at the dog. “I’m going to go in an hour though, so he’s fine. Maybe some other time if I get caught up in conference call hell.”

Astrid nodded, picking up a water bottle from her chair and taking a drink. “I’m going to take a shower. Can I bug you later for dinner ideas?” She asked, smiling cheekily.

“Sure thing,” Hiccup said, feeling his cheeks flush slightly. Interacting with Astrid made him feel a little bit like a schoolboy with a crush. She was definitely more attractive than any girl he’d ever been with, and seemed friendly and sane enough. He could definitely see himself being friends with her, and then… who knew?

As she turned to re-enter her apartment, she smiled over her shoulder at him.

Hiccup smiled weakly back, turning to go back inside himself. He paused with his hand on the handle, half looking back in her direction, smiling to himself a little more confidently, even as his stomach flipped.

Who knew?

[icedcappujaeno]

twist | lty

➩ pairing: gamer/barista taeyong & reader ➩ genre: (extreme dosage of) fluff ➩ words: 5k ➩ warnings: too much fluff. handle uwus with care.

a/n: OH LOOK. ICEDCAPPUJAENO’S POSTING A FIC AGAIN?! I thought it was a meme blog--!! Hell yes I am! Supposedly this fic was going to be posted last Christmas (I gave you my heart-?) but we had to go out-of-town to celebrate the holidays, thus no proofread and all but voila! I present to you, my gift to everyone on this site who’s been with me all throughout 2019! I know I haven’t been the best in posting my works now and then but please don’t blame me, I got the job that I wanted so it kept me busy and I’m a person that would prefer career over hobbies most of the time. But yes, anyway, enough being sappy, thank you so much for everything and please look forward to more works in the upcoming year!

It's never too late for a really big plot twist for you and player rubbiesyong.

Christmas — the season of joy, the season were everyone would momentarily forget conflicts and be giving, the season to be jolly. 

Everyone in the dorms already left to come home for the holidays, but not you. Not with the burden of a thesis, the expensive amount of plane tickets, the hassle of being stuck in a crowd in airports — you decided to stay in your dorm, alone, yet maybe, this was another experience you’ve yet to face.

However, it wasn’t as joyful and breathtaking as you thought. 

Being scooped up in the dorm was most likely the most boring experience you had—and the motivation to complete your thesis chapters was downright zero. The weather isn’t cooperating as well: the low degrees and negatives making you wrap yourself in a blanket and stay under its warm covers, along with some Netflix. 

But at some point, you got tired of watching. 

Four days into the holiday season the app was already boring you. Thus, you mindlessly searched for games - the hobbies you once enjoyed when you were younger. Any genre was fine, although there was a magnet between you and MMORPGs. Searching for one, and alas - a free to play with good reviews appeared, downloading the installer not a minute after.

As soon as you installed the game into your laptop, the dialogue box said it would take around 5 hours. With that, for the first time that day, you looked at the time - 3 minutes past 2 o’clock. A low growl came from your stomach, it was no surprise as you’ve only been eating chips and coffee since you woke up. With a stretch, you rose from the bed, trying to beat the lazy syndrome that’s gotten to you.

You hissed as your feet pressed flat to the cold floors. To be honest, you don’t want to leave the bed, however, your back already started to feel some pain from lying all day. You got up, trotted your way to the bathroom and washed. Once done, you fished the coat, gloves, and scarf, and bag from behind the door, leaving your laptop open while the game installs.

The cafe bell that hung loosely on the glass door rang as Taeyong entered, the warm breeze brought by the heater comforting his near numb senses from the cold wind outside. Even with the low temperature, Taeyong decided to open the shop even he thinks that the customers won’t come to this kind of weather. It was a tough decision from him, especially the part where he decides to get up from bed, an addition would be texts from his baristas that they’ll pass work for today. 

But the cafe work attracted him like a magnet, even if he was up staying up all night playing a game. Nevertheless, if he did reach half the quota for today, he’d close up, snuggle into the warmth of his blanket once again, lost in the virtual reality his game would bring.

Time passed quickly in the cafe, and when Taeyong looked up the wall clock, it was almost past 2, and while he didn’t reach half the quota of the day, Taeyong decided it was time to close up. Looking outside, it seemed like the weather isn’t clearing up any time soon. A grunt escaped from his lips as he stretched, his back and butt aching from almost sitting all day. 

As he was about to reach for his cleaning tools, the bell rang, signaling an entrance of a customer. A smile automatically waved through his lips, a manner he got out of habit. 

“Hello, welcome to our shop.”

The walk to the nearest cafe was tedious: the icy path made it quite hard to balance and the chill breeze hitting your cheeks wasn’t helping at all. Your lips are chapped brought by the cold wind, thus making you hiss as you enter the warmth of the shop.

Though the heat from the cafe was comforting, the slit you made from trying to remove the skin from your chapped lips stung. You didn’t even hear the barista greet you—going straight to the counter without even minding the polite gesture from the staff.

“Caramel macchiato, and a slice of banana bread.”

“Are you okay? Your lip is bleeding.”

You touched your lip in reflex, for a moment your eyes widened at the sight of red within your fingertips. You were about to fish for the handkerchief from your pocket, but when nothing came to your senses, you bite your lip—hissing as you made the wound even worse, tasting the irony substance within your palate.

He hands you a tissue, and to be honest, you almost forgot about the barista in front of you. You looked up to thank him, noticing his sharp features—his brows were thick and manly, the shape of his jaw carved in an almost perfect sculpture. Although skinny, he looked so menacing, but when he showed you the softest smile you’ve ever seen—the intimidating aura blew away. His eyes started to grow a little bigger in your vision, pursed lips as he tried to suppress the laughter coming.

“So, it’s a caramel macchiato, and a slice of banana bread, correct?”

He chuckled, a low vibrato heartily coming from his as he punched your order in. He asked for your name and you answered rather immediately. And if you weren’t embarrassed enough after the scenario, your stomach growled once again, and the urge to run away to avoid further shame from the cute guy was spiking. 

“Is banana bread enough?” He asked, very amused with the situation. 

“Yeah. It is.”

He hummed, telling you to take a seat as he prepares your order. You did as told, sitting on the closest chair next to the counter. You watch him work behind—and you have to admit that encountering a cute barista like him, in winter, was a scenario you’d only imagine in dramas and fiction, it was surreal. The fact that someone this good looking exist was beyond your comprehension.

Needless to say, you developed this tiny, tiny, bitsy crush on this guy.

You turned to look around the shop: you ordered here before but most of the time, you ordered your coffee to go before going to the university. With the rush, you never noticed the cozy atmosphere that lingers on its surroundings—an LP player on the side, a touch of antiquity that brings some unique features for the shop. It emits a calming aura that reminds you of home.

It seemed like you found a new place to stay.

“Caramel macchiato, and a plate of carbonara with garlic bread on the side,” you hear the barista say that broke your reverie, along with the clink of the utensils when it collided with the glass table. The pasta’s smell was inviting, but pretty sure that you only brought enough money for a slice of bread and a cup of coffee.

Incredulously, you declined his offer, polite enough to let a smile pass your lips. “I didn’t order it…”

“Taeyong,” he finishes your sentence, although it was not what you had in mind. “It’s on the house.”

You gulped, looking at him foolishly for a moment, then pushed the plate away while standing up to only get the warm coffee cup. “I’m not that hungry…”

As if on cue, your stomach growled once more.

You groaned, face flushing from another embarrassment brought by your involuntary body actions. Taeyong laughed this time, not just a giggle, rather a hearty one that made his eyes crinkle in delight, showing the molars and fangs that made him look like a lion cub.

“Eat up. You need it.”

He said as he gently pushed you back to your seat with your shoulders. “I’d be disappointed if you’d decline my offer.”

With the aroma of the food in front of you and the request of the cute barista-slash-waiter of this cafe, you submitted. Whole-heartedly. Taeyong never left your side as you took the first bite, and when you hummed in satisfaction of how great it tasted, a smile plastered on his lips. 

“This is good Taeyong!”

He shrugged, and you feel smug in his aura as he did the action.

“Expected. Now, finish that up so I can close up.”

You didn’t need any reminder. There was nothing on your plate as you finished the food.

Your stay at the cafe took longer than expected. The initial plan was to order take out and stay at home, watch some Netflix again as you wait for the game to download. But once you took a peek at your laptop, the game was done and ready to play.

Once you pressed the button, a young woman, elegant and pristine in her frilly dress, welcome you to the virtual world. She was all smiles when she made the entrance cue, and let you decide the class you want to main. You spent a few minutes in the tutorials and customization, and when you feel your neck ache from numbness and eyes strained, you stopped, satisfied with the character on the screen.

The first quests were easy—making you lose track of the time. Not with how your character seemed to be enjoying to slay the demons and monsters in the game, time passed by so quickly that it was past dinner when you glanced at the clock. You stretched your arms, forcing yourself to get up to get dinner, starting by boiling water in the kettle pot to make instant ramen.

Thirteenth day on your vacation.

Character? Leveled up. Accessories included an armor that boosted defense. The headdress that increases magic. The staff that was initially without power now holds ice magic.

Thesis? Still on the same page.

You sighed. This wasn’t part of the holiday plan. Initially, you were going to finish your paper after Christmas, have it revised and to be submitted before the new term starts. But here you are, sitting on your study table, but no word applications opened, nor any site with related literature. Instead, the whole screen was engulfed in bright colors, your character (fully armed, by the way) smiled at you while she stands while you’re on AFK.

When you glance at the time, it was fifteen minutes past five. You called in for pizza, and after the beep, there was contemplating between your thoughts:  should I finish at least ten pages of my paper, or wait until my order arrives and start doing work after eating?

You sighed. The former was a better option (in terms of productivity), to say the least. At least you’re starting.

But as you were about to log out, a bubble appeared on the side of the screen. 

Hey.

The bubble flashed, signaling a personal message.

It was from player rubbiesyong . That dude who helped you during a difficult mission; as you presumed—but turns out you got lost with a fork and went to the high-ranking road instead. Player rubbiesyong slew all the enemies, and even though you are trying your best to keep him alive by healing, it seemed like you were only there for the cheer and tickles.

Heya ruby! 

You typed back, a nickname you gave to him as calling him with his full username was kind of a hassle. 

You up for a short quest? I need a hand with some as well as my daily.

Oh shit.

You bit your lip. The offer was tempting, but since rubbiesyong messaged, the decision was changed into the latter: doing your paper after eating pizza for dinner. However, with the circumstances—truly, it was stressing. The temptation is there, and deep in your heart and mind you wanted to keep playing but the obligations and guilt of finishing your work were making your heart heavy.

As you were typing your reply, you see a notification that says rubbiesyong is in-game.  His character spawned next to yours, all in his glorious armor. 

Sorry...gotta do some work first...maybe next time?

You don’t see his reply for a while, and while you were waiting, the doorbell rang. It was the pizza delivery guy, and once the food was paid, you slide your laptop away from a little to the side to have space for your food. When you thought everything was set, you sat back down, feeling the warmth of the chair against your bottoms once more. Ruby replied to your message.

Damn. But that’s okay. I understand.

It’s only virtual, you thought, but you can’t help but feel guilty with a slight pang of the chest. Although you’ve only known this person for days, it was as if you knew each other for a long time. Even though you’re only doing quests in the virtual world, with how he helped you leveled up and gave tips soften your emotions. 

There is a living person behind rubbiesyong , and although you know how dangerous it is to trust someone you met online, talking to him was comfortable. You already considered him as a friend.

I guess I’ll see you later then.

You sighed and bite your lip. Your anxiety levels were rising as you stared longer at his reply. No emoji? He’s disappointed. Before munching on pizza, you replied to his short farewell.

If I get this done I’ll come ASAP hehe. Wait for meee!!  With the emphasis on the triple ‘e’. Somehow, there was guilt in your chest, mainly because of leaving a friend, and partly because you want to play badly.

Alright ^_^ 

He replied, and this time with an emoji that lessened your worry. A smile crept to your lips, anticipation with finishing your work for you to set yourself into the virtual world.

Brb!! Enjooooooy and see ya later! :)

It was half-past eight when you glance to your desk clock, the pizza box now empty along with the 2 mugs of coffee you made for yourself. You managed to finish what you ought to do, thankfully, but not leaving a sore back and strained eyes from staring at the computer screen for a very long time, with only trips to the restroom as breaks. You cleaned your mess but not before taking a sip of water.

When you returned to your desk, a sigh escaped your lips. Ruby is probably offline by now. Who would wait for long hours for a stranger? He’s probably resting by now, in his bed, maybe with warm cocoa…

You would be lying to yourself if you didn’t imagine how Ruby would look like, but for sure he’s a guy as you asked in the early stages of your meeting to make sure the pronouns you’ll use are spot on. The assumption was there, ranging from good to bad, however, it isn’t bad to dream that he’s quite the good-looking fella, right? It was inevitable as his character looked so clean and fresh, so you’d imagine he’d look the same—but as they say,  don’t keep your hopes up. You try to keep it away from mind.

You logged in-game, and to no surprise, player rubbiesyong is offline.

Although it was expected, the notification brought you a heavy heart. Playing with Ruby is always exciting, but what can you do? The banters were always fun, most especially when you two role-play with each other’s role. The priestess, who met a swordsman on the way, bickering as they do adventures together. It was in this virtual world that you can feel genuine happiness somehow, that is why you look forward to every game with him.

With a heavy heart, you go on with your daily quest alone.

Two days later, you found yourself sitting in the cafe where you encountered Taeyong, but the barista was different for today. Frankly, you were hoping for Taeyong—somehow he made you feel comfortable, a feeling that would equate like home. Although you only met him once, the atmosphere he radiated was warm like the confines of your room, but for the most part, you kinda feel guilty for the pasta he gave you as you’re not the type to owe favors, so you’re to return the favor.

Not only that, for today, the agenda was to finish at least chapter three and prepare a presentation for your upcoming defense. The game was left untouched for the time being as you were trying to make up for the lost time you spent playing games. You were so immersed in your paper that you didn’t notice Taeyong coming in, although not dressed for work. He immediately noticed your slouched figure and the cup of coffee beside your laptop, so dangerously close that a little, leaning mistake would spill over your desk. 

A hand pushed your coffee cup away from your laptop, and you were about to spare a glare but you see Taeyong’s toothy grin. He was dressed casually: you noticed how odd the mix in his fashion taste but it fits him either way. 

“Good morning, Ms. Caramel macchiato,” the grin never leaving his lips. “I see you’re working hard even on the holidays.”

Baffled by his use of nicknames, you chuckled. “I am, good sir. I see it’s your off today.”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged, then took his coat off his shoulders as the warmth of the cafe started to seep into the fabric of his clothing. “Mind if I join you?”

“I would be lying if I said no, because I badly need to finish my agenda for today and you distracting me isn’t a great idea.”

Taeyong momentarily stopped as you were speaking. He looked at you quite a few seconds after you talked, then blinked almost comically. He never expected for you to blurt out like that, but then, when he glanced at the screen of your laptop, it was quite understandable as to why you’re acting as such. His eyes started to roam around to find a vacant seat, or he could always hang out in the staff office.

“Oh, Uhm, sorry. I’ll just take another-”

“But a company is great,” he heard you say, and when he glanced back at you, you were sipping your coffee, eyes glued to the computer screen. You then looked at his back with a raised brow. “You didn’t let me finish.”

What a strange fellow, indeed. Taeyong thought and was about to retort back when his co-worker behind the counter called him. He excused himself, telling you that he’ll be back in a minute. Honestly, you could care less, but the kick of the caffeine was needing you to move your lips, hence the disappointment was washing your features. You hid it with a smile though and sent him off, going back to the paper you’re working on.

And true to his word, Taeyong did come back, two cups of steaming drink in his hand. He placed them on the table, pushing one to your side. It was chamomile tea.

“Yours.”

“It’s not in the house, is it?”

“It is,” he chuckled, sitting on the seat opposite of yours. The scent from the tea was inviting, although you’re not much of a tea person. Taeyong seemed to notice this and pointed towards the cup. “It will help you relax.”

“Biscuits, as ordered,” you hear the barista say as he carefully placed the tray of assorted biscuits on your table. Taeyong thanked the guy, and while you were so focused on the cute animal-shaped biscuits, you failed to notice the smirk growing on the barista’s lips. He gave Taeyong a quick nudge to which he shooed him off quietly, making the barista leave but without suppressing a peal of silent laughter.

“You’re paying for this, Taeyong. I don’t have enough allowance anymore.”

“I am,” he laughed, and the way his lips widely stretch that showed his pearly whites and the eyes crinkling reminded you of a baby fox. You can’t help but laugh along as it was contagious, and never have you felt comfortable in the presence of another person in a long time.

“Sorry, I know I’m distracting you. So I’ll just sit down and behave quietly while you work.”

“No, it’s fine,” stretching your arms was almost as relaxing as you were slouched for hours now. “I need someone to keep me sane. The words are already jumbling-look,” you turned your laptop screen to him. “The grammar is everywhere, all I can see are red lines.”

He laughed, once again, and to be honest, every time he does, you were becoming more and more infatuated. “Alright, I’m Taeyong and here to keep you sane.”

You giggled. People like these are genuinely rare these days. Your instinct also seemed to like him, as normally you’d be avoiding these situations as much as possible. But, for the one who gave you free pasta when you were starving and now, free tea and biscuits? How can you be so wary of such a guy?

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he started, and your gaze shifted to him as he trailed off his question. You nodded as you took a sip of the now-warm chamomile tea, urging for him to continue his query. “What do you do?”

You put the cup down and tell about yourself. That you are a full-time graduate student and working as a part-time assistant professor at the university. In your field, although there are holidays, your principal investigator will roast you if you haven’t done anything over the holidays- where is the data? Have you thought of another problem already?  -  cute phrases that your principal investigator will ask you. He seemed to be so interested that a question led to another, and that when you glanced at the clock of your screen, two hours had already passed and nightfall was about to come as it was getting dark outside.

“Ah, shit. Sorry, I took most of your time.”

Taeyong said, and his tone sounded so concerned and genuinely apologetic. You shake your head with a smile, putting back your laptop inside your bag and taking one last of the biscuit on the table.

“It’s really fine, Taeyong! I enjoyed it as well, plus, I told you I needed a break. That’s exactly what I needed,” you chuckled. “So thank you.”

“Sure, always here to help,” he mirrored your reaction as a light chuckle escaped from his. “Anyway, is it okay if I asked your number? I mean, you don’t need to, just, you know, if you need someone to talk to-”

You laughed at how he stuttered, lightly hitting his shoulder with how stupidly cute he looked. Of course, who would miss an opportunity to get a number of a cute guy? Not you. So you asked for his phone and vice versa, both of you satisfied with your goodbyes as your numbers were saved directly in your contacts.

You also never missed the opportunity to hit the button favorite upon his contact details.

Going to the cafe became a habit, and time passes so quickly that you didn’t notice that it was the 24th of December already: the sign on the cafe door the only thing that reminded you of the day. 

You sighed. And you were even looking forward to the coffee, pastries, and Taeyong’s company. His presence and the coffee he brought seemed to boost your efficacy—you finished your due papers in time, and today was going to be a break, but with the locked door and closed blinds, the plan was ruined. Along the way home, you ordered a small cake for yourself, and a bottle of red wine for later’s celebration.

Going home was the only option, and when you’re back at the comforts of your duvet, you opened your laptop, log on to the virtual world. The usual, with a smile, your character greeted you. At the very least, you’re happy. Maybe in another world, but it’s all good. 

You started clicking on the quests on the side of the screen. Spending the Christmas online sounded lonely, but celebrating it alone outside—just the thought of it makes you shudder for it was freezing, and walking nor eating along on the eve of Christmas will earn you pitiful stares. You stood up and boiled water to make hot cocoa, a perfect drink to accompany your online adventures. And who said it was lonely? The lobby was full of online players publicly chatting and greeting everyone a  Merry Christmas! , and of course, although alone but with the spirit, you greeted them back as well.

The first quest was not so bad, it was only delivering some goods to one NPC to another. The second one wasn’t so bad either—slaying low levels monsters in the forest nearby. However, the third quest, unbelievably, was consuming your time. The former only took around 30 minutes each, but an hour has passed and you’re still stuck: escort this NPC to the palace without him dying from bandits along the way. 

rubbiesyong is now online.

The notification never failed to catch your attention, and genuinely surprised. There was an assumption that Ruby is the type to spend Christmas with his loved one: may it be family or friends—there was an aura behind his character that radiates. You haven’t been online for days finishing your paper, and how badly you want to greet him a Merry Christmas, but wouldn’t it be awkward? The thought crossed your mind, but another notification bubble popped on the side of your screen.

rubbiesyong: Merry Christmas!

A smile crept on your lips, anxiety decreasing as you replied a  Merry Christmas! back. 

rubbiesyong: Haven’t seen you for days, busy?

You replied with a yes. You wanted to tell him everything that happened in the past few days, though you know it isn’t an obligation, and you were too lazy to type.

rubbiesyong: I see.

rubbiesyong: mind if I join you? Bored to death lmao

A sigh of relief came through, and there were no options as you desperately want to finish this never-ending quest you’re stuck on (which you weren’t supposed to be, you are just a noob).

Not a minute later, Ruby joined your group, his character stood side of yours. You explained the quest you’re currently doing, and it seemed like he was typing something so long that the group chat was continuously showing rubbiesyong is typing…  notification.

rubbiesyong: can we voice chat instead? It’s too long to type haha

Voice chat. 

Honestly, it was a thing you avoid as there is an underlying feeling of insecurity—you weren’t very confident with your voice over the line. Another is the anxiety of struggling with your words—a very common occurrence every time you’re on the line. However, as you agree with Ruby with the feeling of laziness, plus his tips will probably lead you better on finishing your quest.

rubbiesyong entered the voice chat.

You turned on the voice chat as you put your earphones on. You waited for him to speak first, but since he was not saying anything, you were about to open your mouth as you hear a masculine voice over.

“Hello?”

Oddly familiar, you thought, but you shrugged the idea off. Maybe all guys sounded familiar over the line? You weren’t sure, but it wasn’t of priority. You whispered a subtle hello back and you hear him laugh, a deep baritone resonating on the line. 

“I guess it’s connected,”  there goes the laugh again, and you can’t help but imitate the action. 

“Cute voice,”  Ruby commented that halted your laugh. You were thankful that he couldn’t see your face as you were sure that you’re flushing with the sudden compliment. 

“Whatever,” an attempt to change the topic, you asked him what to do and of course, you told him where you’re stuck on. He guided you throughout as expected—the quest being chicken with Ruby at your party. He guarded your back as you escort the NPC to the designation, and although he took a few hits here and there, Ruby slew the bandits that resulted in success.

“Ah, finally!” You stretched your arms when the screen flashed glitter gold letters of completed! for the quest. You hear Ruby laughed and there were sounds of clapping in the background. 

“Congrats.”

You chuckled, taking a sip of the water beside you that you got while on a short break. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Ruby!”

“Calling me Ruby in type-chat is okay but it feels weird hearing it to be honest,”  he chuckled.

“I kinda feel the same when you call me with mine, but it’s fine? I’m not sure how to feel, to be honest.”

“But you know, you sound familiar, I swear I heard your voice before.”

“You know what? I thought of that too!” Unbelievably, you feel like you’re closer to this stranger as well—not only because you met for a while now, but his voice just sounded so amicable. “What are the chances, right?!”

“Yeah,”  you hear him pause and breathe, and when you feel like the silence is getting awkward, you initiated another conversation by asking him:

“Why are you online this very Christmas eve?”

“Got nothing better to do,”   he sighed, and you thought he drank from something as an exhale from his lips rang over the line. “Don’t have work today since it’s Christmas, and plane tickets are hella expensive. I miss my sister and mom though, especially my dog.”

Hearing him talk about family made you think of your own, and the feeling of homesickness hit you like a deer-in-headlights. You sighed and rested your head comfortably on the pillow in front of you. “Yeah, same.”

“What about you?”

You told him your reasons—that you were a graduate student finishing a paper for your defense on the upcoming semester, and the tickets for the same reason. Although he chuckled, it was cut short as he asked:

“By chance, do you ever stop by a cafe to do your work?”

“Yeah, I do,” you quipped slowly, eyebrow-raising from the sudden question from him. 

“Sorry if this is personal, is your name (Y/N) by chance?”

You feel your heart race faster than normal, how did this stranger know your name? No words were forming in your confused and tangled thoughts, and the only thing that came to mind was to disconnect, but Ruby beat you to it by saying:

“Shit, sorry, that was weird huh?”   You hear him sigh and he continued. “But like, in this cafe where I work, there’s this person who always comes in stressed—clearly, and you know, cute and all, we’ve become close you know? I have this tiny—hell, I have this crush and I even thought it was you.”

Did he just tell what happened to your daily life the past few days?

“They’re cool when they’re doing their stuff you know? Ah—I’m rambling. Sorry,” he chuckled apologetically, and even over the line you hear the sincerity in his tone. 

“No, no, it’s fine!” You bit your lip, a habit you got when you feel your anxiety reaching roof high. “Uhm, is your real name Taeyong, by any chance?”

What plot twist it is when you hear a pause—followed by a rather loud vocal of your name. In a questioning tone.

“Seriously?!”

“Lee Taeyong!?”

Another minute passed with exchanges as such, tossing your real names back and forth. It was the biggest plot twist of the year, you thought, as from what he said not too long ago was a subtle confession, isn’t it? That he had this crush on you?

Because you feel butterflies in your stomach as you feel the same way for him. The smile that grew fondly on you, his strong features that soften with every conversation, no matter how silly the topic is. You remember the first time you met, embarrassment was all around your facade, but his presence and soothing existence were enough to radiate a calming and comforting persona that you got infatuated with.

This has to be a joke, isn’t it?

Maybe he’s a hacker—stalker, who knows all about Taeyong and since they do know about Taeyong, they know about you as well? Maybe they’re using some sort of voice changer to make it sound like him. It’s a threat to National Security! It’s some overthinking, but—

“It’s me, you idiot! I can hear you overthinking!”  You hear a roaring laugh on the line, and it sounded genuine that he’s having fun.

“Yeah? If it’s you what was the thing I ordered in your cafe when we first met?”

“Caramel macchiato. A slice of banana bread. That was your order,”   with an emphasis on the word your. “Then I gave you a plate of carbonara, with garlic bread, all made with love.”

You feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. 

“You’re not being discreet about it, Taeyong.”

“Well, I kinda confessed anyway. Not in the way I planned, but—“

“No need to worry about that,” you chuckled, burrowing your head to the pillow you’re propping on to muffle your next words.

“I like you too.”

“Come again? I think the line was choppy.”

You were sure that he still heard it, and that he was only teasing you, but with your heart almost bursting out from your ribcage, and the amount of embarrassment and butterflies fluttering in your stomach, you sighed.

“I like you too, you idiot.”

He was clad in a brown coat and scarf that you gave to him as a gift to protect himself from the cold. His hands, however, were inside his coat pockets, fidgeting the heat pack that kept his digits warm. 

When he looked at the side, he noticed your shivering figure, hands inside your coat’s pockets as well, and the tip of your nose beet-red from the cold. A smile tugged at his dry, thin lips—though it was cute seeing you like this, he can’t let you catch a cold.

Taeyong moved to your back and wrapped his arms around your waist, his warmth radiating to yours like a heater. You sighed and basked in his comfort, laying your head on his chest as he hugged you from behind.

“Happy New Year, babe.”

He said, looking down to meet your gaze—a galaxy that you considered home. His presence that made your cold, lonely holidays warm and colorful unlike what you expected, and additionally, a friend that you could confide in—whether be it in real life or virtually.

3.

  2.

  1.

 And when his lips descended on yours, the colors in the sky long forgotten, you feel safe.

Though not back home, Taeyong was and had to be, the biggest twist of your life.

[rokutouxei]

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop's most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo's pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 2 OF 22

In a small house in the better neighborhood of the university, a young man is beginning to dream. He’s chasing the afterimages of a vision he’d caught, trying to see if he can get it down on paper. It’s scary, but it’s exciting. He’s prepared his materials—the canvas, the pen, the paint—and he’s closed the door, and opened the shutters, letting the morning light flood the studio-cum-library in their small, rented home.

Vincent holds the pen gently, like a prayer, in his hands, before beginning to sketch.

--

The thing with living in such a small university town such as this is that you cannot escape the inevitable.

And by inevitable, that means you know someone who knows someone, and everyone kind of vaguely knows each other in some way or another—through a club, or a shared favorite hang-out spot, or an extracurricular. Everyone is someone’s something by a degree or another.

She’s learned this in her first year at university, but the lesson’s about to be driven a little closer to home today.

She’s seated in the café as usual, annotating a book when Vincent approaches her, a small brownie in hand. It’s not the ones they serve regularly, cut on a smaller bit, and maybe it’s one of the edges or corners in the baking tray. “Can I offer you a little snack?” he asks, offering the plate in front of her.

Looking up at him through round-rimmed glasses, she blinks. “Oh? Thank you, but—what’s this for?” she asks, as Vincent puts the plate down on a free spot on her table. He takes a seat on the free chair next to her.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

Modeling isn’t exactly her forte, but Vincent insists that he doesn’t need a full-blown model for his project—besides, he couldn’t have afforded it, even if he did need one. He’s working on “something”—by the rumors in the art department, she assumes it’s for his thesis, his capstone project, but who knows?—and he needs a little help on the lighting. He’s working with some tricky fabric, draped down bodies, and he isn’t quite sure how it should come out.

“It’ll only take two hours tops,” he promises, “if you wouldn’t mind. It’s not nude or anything risque, I just need to be able to see how the fabric drapes accordingly to the light. I’ll treat you to dinner afterward?”

Here’s the thing—one does not exactly say no to Vincent. The university town is small enough as it is, and everyone knows Vincent because he’s a legend in the art department. You do not turn down the offer to be painted by a master, or at least that’s how the logic goes. But at the same time, Vincent is always sunflowers and soft smiles, and when he looks at her like that… the only thing that comes out of her mouth is “Of course I will!”

“I’m sorry this is all so sudden,” he says sheepishly. “I just had this idea a bit back, and I’ve been wanting to work on it…”

“No, it’s okay,” she replies instantly. “You’re always reserving my favorite seat for me anyway, and you’ve always been so nice to me. We’re basically friends now, and friends do this for each other, yes?”

Vincent’s eyes glow in a way you’ve never seen before, and it makes you flush a little. “Friends? Of course, yes, thank you so much.”

His shift won’t end in another hour and a half, so he treats her to coffee (“you didn’t have to!” “it’s on me, I swear!”) as she’s waiting for him. She picks up her beautiful, hardbound copy of 1800s English literature, now lovingly highlighted and with many flags at certain pages, and begins to read, scribbling notes on a separate notebook.

By 5:15 Vincent is ready to go, dressed out of his uniform and into his casual clothes, a sweater one or two sizes too big for him over a shirt and some pants. He calls out her name gently, hand leaning on her table.

And she stares.

Vincent isn’t her type—he’s a little too angelic for her liking, as she does prefer those on the more rugged side—but she won’t deny that he’s attractive. She had never seen Vincent in casual clothes before—she’d seen him hang up his barista apron at the end of shifts before, but never actually caught him go home—and she pauses for a moment when he arrives at her table.

“Are you okay?”

“Haha,” she says awkwardly, coughing her shock away. “Yeah, I almost didn’t recognize you, is all. Let me just pack up?”

She hadn’t expected it, but she should have—that her friendly local barista, the legend of the art department—is living smack dab in the middle of their small town, at the perfect distance to everything. In a house, too, not a small dormitory. It’s a beautiful one painted white with a small garden and a porch outside, a tree standing tall and providing shade on the house, and a small classic mailbox in front—it looked like a house that belonged in the suburbs instead of in the middle of this very schoolish town. She can’t help the small whistle of appreciation when they get there.

“Our father knew the landlord,” Vincent explains, as he unlocks the door. “So we get it rather cheaply. Careful of the landing.”

We? She catches the plural but doesn’t get to ask, as she enters the apartment and marvels at it. It’s not extravagant, but it’s still rather fancy, considering she stays in a small studio room. There are paintings hanging on the walls—Vincent’s, she assumes—and everything is in attractive, warm colors. What catches her attention, however, is the small framed photo on the side table by the sofa, of two boys on a swing, a blond one (Vincent?) pushing one with brown hair (a cousin?).

“Five and three,” Vincent says, by way of explanation. She’s about to ask him who the other child is, but Vincent interrupts her. “Do you need water? A break?”

They’d walked quite a bit from the café, after all, and while she had her bike with her, Vincent didn’t, and so she just rolled it next to her throughout the whole 30-minute walk. “No, I’m okay. Where’s your studio?”

Vincent beams. “Here, come.”

They walk down the hall and enter a door to the left, and the studio opens up to her. The wall on the right has a row of high bookshelves, all nearly filled to the brim with books on all sorts of different topics. The wall where the door is has a layer of corkboard attached to it, where a multitude of prints and photos and papers with scribbles and notes are pinned and strung together. Most of the room’s floor is covered in some kind of paper—newspaper, craft paper—to protect the wooden slats below. There are easels stacked at the far side of the room, but facing away, so she can’t exactly see what is on them. And then, there is the set-up for Vincent’s current project: an easel in the center of the room with the sketch of a woman’s figure; a white sheet draping from the ceiling to the floor, serving as a backdrop, in the far corner; a steel circle hanging by the ceiling, the kind people sit on; black craft paper laid on the floor below it; and on top of it, a small stool, a fabric in beautiful vermillion, and some fairy lights.

“Welcome to the studio,” Vincent says, guiding her inside. “Sorry for the mess, I was working this morning.”

“No, it’s okay,” she says, carefully stepping in. “It’s so interesting to see your studio, where all the magic happens.”

Vincent flinches at that, but doesn’t make any other comment about it. She contemplates if she has to apologize, but doesn’t know exactly what she’ll have to apologize for. “No magic here,” Vincent mumbles.

He asks her to get comfortable on the wooden stool and maybe get a feel for the fabric, as he sets up his camera. The plan was this: she’ll get into the poses he needs for his project, he will take a couple photos for reference in different angles, and then he will take her out to dinner.

The time passes rather uneventfully, and pretty quickly, because the poses aren’t entirely too tricky on her end. A raised arm here, a dangle of hair in this direction, a tiptoe towards this—Vincent is gentle in maneuvering her around and quick in taking his photos, and in an hour they’re ready. Vincent thanks her profusely for her help as he’s packing away, and she laughs as she says “Well, you’re treating me to food, so it’s paid work.”

“Dinner, yes, of course,” Vincent nods, putting the camera back on its place on the bookshelf. “I actually got my brother to save a spot at, erm, my favorite place, if you don’t mind? It’s Greek food.”

“Oh, that’s fine! I didn’t know you had a brother, Vincent.”

“I do, he’s the sweetest thing,” he answers with a beam of a smile, so much so that for a moment she falters about joining them for dinner. One Vincent was bad enough for her heart as it is, but two of them? That’s not good news is it?

Except, yet again, the rule of not saying no to Vincent applies, and so after a bit of tidying they’re already on the way to the restaurant. An actual restaurant, mind you, not some cheapo fast food that Arthur treats her to. (“This isn’t fair, you know? Just because I’m not in your menu of dateables and bangables doesn’t mean you treat me disproportionately to everyone else.” “Stop complaining and eat your McDonald’s.”) It’s a small one, admittedly, but most of the stalls in this town is, anyway. Vincent peers into the building and then pulls her in, inviting her inside.

Vincent pauses for a moment. “I’ve been told he has quite an… aggressive face, but don’t be afraid of him okay?”

“If he’s your brother, there’s no reason to be scared,” she says with a smile. For a moment she is looking for a twin puff of sunflower blond hair, but then, remembering the photos, she begins to look for an equally-fluffy brown mop of hair, and just at the exact moment she comes to the realization—

“Hondje?!”

“Theo?!”

--

The thing with living in such a small university town such as this is that you cannot escape the inevitable.

It’s a silly thought. She even finds it rather ironic that that is the wise saying about making friends and getting to know other people in this university because running away is the one thing she wishes she was good at.

See, the first time she saw Theo, she thought, wow, this guy looks so insufferable. I can’t believe he works here, and I have to see him every week. This is the worst.

Until it isn’t.

She knew, the moment she made eye contact with Theo across the table in that homey Greek restaurant, that that event would change her life in ways she wouldn’t have—and couldn’t have—imagined. She just didn’t know how yet. Vincent was surprised that he didn’t need to introduce the two of them to each other, and with an irritated grumble, Theo had explained that she was a frequenter of the bookstore, taking a jab at her having no other friends and spending so much time around books instead. She quips back and says the reason they don’t have customers is that Theo’s face is enough to sour anyone’s day, and so no one but her comes anyway.

But Vincent is not the kind of person to have this happen, so instead, with a truce, his kind insistence, and irresistible smile—dammit!—she and Theo, instead, become friends. Good friends. Wait, no—they become begrudging friends.

But they don’t talk.

Theo doesn’t even give her his phone number.

No, they’re not friends. Not yet, anyway. Theo makes a show of only putting up with all of this for his brother, as he continues to ignore even the most cordial of texts like “thank you for putting a rush-order on my book!”, throwing insults back and forth with her in the bookshop. But eventually, both of them find a rhythm, a little liminal space of friends by circumstance and not by desire that they’ve agreed on.

That is until they begin the book exchange.

[frywen-bumbles]

The Way to a Man’s Heart Goes Through His... Cat? Ch4

AO3

"Why do you seem so gloomy, I thought your thesis was going well?" Essi asks him.

"It's about cat daddy, isn't it?" Pricilla asks and drowns her second glass of wine.

"No! No, of course not. Roach got the zoomies at four am and I couldn't fall asleep afterwards." Jaskier lies. Well, technically it isn't a lie. Roach did, in fact, get zoomies in the middle of the night but his gloominess has nothing to do with being tired.

"Trouble in paradise then?" Pricilla winks at him.

"There is no paradise!" Jaskier cries out and throws his hands in the air in frustration. Friends, he laments. Can't live with them and can't live without them.

"So it is about cat daddy," Essi concludes and pats his hand. "I'm sorry for teasing you. Please tell us what is it?"

"I... I don't know?" It's definitely the alcohol talking, Jaskier decides as he sinks further into the couch he has spent countless of nights sleeping in. No way he would talk about his stupid crush sober. "I keep thinking about him and dreaming about him and I haven't even talked to him in person!"

"I'm sure you're not the only person who has managed to develop a massive crush on someone over texts." Pricilla tries to comfort him but the huge grin on her face diminishes the effect.

"I do not have a crush," Jaskier says, like the liar he is.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire!" Essi sings and laughs.

"What are you, five?" Jaskier scoffs.

"Yes, that's exactly how old I am."

"You're impossible. Both of you!" Jaskier points at his best friends in mock offence, trying not to laugh.

"And yet, you still love us!" Pricilla winks at him. Jaskier rolls his eyes.

"I will love you if you pour me another glass of that wine and stop talking." Jaskier waves his empty glass at Pricilla, who fills it with all the possible flourish of an experienced bartender.

"You know she won't shut up," Essi says and waves her glass at Pricilla as well. "Although, I might shut up if you play me something?" she gives him a sweet smile and he groans, throwing his head back.

"Please, Essi... You know I haven't had time to practice in forever..."

"So this is an as good time as any to pick up your guitar again," Pricilla says and hops up from her chair, only slightly wobbly on her feet. "Oh, shit, I think all of the bubbles went straight into my head as soon as I stood up!" she giggles and disappears into a walk-in closet.

"Are you sure that closet doesn't lead straight into Narnia?" Jaskier grumbles without any heat as he hears Pricilla dig around. He's well aware the closet is as full as it is because it's mostly filled with his stuff.

"Oh, imagine all of the storage we had if it did..." Essi sighs wistfully and drains the rest of her glass. "Oh!" she exclaims and sits up straight, "Do you think sorcerers have portals in their closets? Can you imagine how neat that would be?!"

"Oooh, that's why the bastards can afford to live in such fancy places, they can have an apartment the size of a broom closet and store all of their stuff elsewhere!" Priscilla says as she emerges from the closet carrying a slightly battered guitar case.

Jaskier takes the guitar out and tunes it carefully, taking a sip of wine every now and then.

Pricilla and Essi make themselves busy getting more snacks and wine out of their kitchen while waiting for him but he hardly notices their hushed whispers and giggles. The guitar feels so familiar in his hands as he runs his fingers along the varnished wood.

 "When you get older, plainer, saner Will you remember all the danger We came from? Burning like embers, falling, tender Longing for the days of no surrender Years ago And will you know

 So smoke 'em if you got 'em Cause it's going down All I ever wanted was you I'll never get to heaven Cause I don't know how

 Let's raise a glass Or two To all the things I've lost on you Ho, ooh Tell me are they lost on you? Ooh, oh..."

It's only 8 PM, Jaskier laments as he heads back home, definitely too much cheap bubbly wine in his system.

But it was good, spending some time with his friends. To have a chance to talk about everything and just relax without any pressure to write or be productive.

Jaskier opens the door only to find Roach right behind it, screaming at him as soon as she gets a sight of him. Jaskier barely manages to step inside before Roach is running to the kitchen, screaming all the while expecting him to follow.

"I'm not that fast, Roach!" Jaskier shouts after the cat, struggling to get his shoes off when everything in his vision seems to wave quite a bit, his steps still unsteady despite the walk back.

Roach runs back to him and screams, vibrating her tail impatiently and runs back towards the kitchen, stopping to wait for him in the doorway.  

"I'm coming, Roach, you'll get your dinner, fuck..." Jaskier stumbles on his shoes and gets an unimpressed look from Roach, "it's not even that late, I never give you dinner this ea- fuck!" He steps on a cat toy and has to take support from the wall.

Roach screams at him again and runs to the kitchen.

"You're going to kill me, you know? Leaving your toys lying around like that..." Jaskier grumbles but follows the cat to the kitchen and digs food for her.

Roach meows and thrills and vibrates her tail stretches against his leg, digging her nails through his jeans into his thigh.

"Ow, ow, ow! Roach! I promise you will not starve to death in thirty seconds, ow!"

Roach doesn't spare him another glance as soon as the food is in front of her.

Nor does she after she has eaten despite her normal insistence of following him everywhere.

One additional drink (one he's sure to regret come morning) Roach is still ignoring him, sitting on the kitchen window with her back on him when usually she sits at the backrest of the sofa or on the cat tree staring at him. Or she sits looking at the door, still visible from the living room, occasionally meowing pitifully.

But today she bristles and runs away from him as soon as he tries to approach, making offended mews.

Jaskier endures being ignored. For an hour (and a few more drinks).

"Roach is angry with me!" Jaskier wails at the phone, "She doesn't even acknowl... ackl... pay attention to me! Whatever shall I do? She's been ignoring me since I got home, I can't take this, I have failed! I'm a hor- horbible... horrible cat sitter. She will never forgive me... it wasn't even her dinner time yet, you know? And still, I'm slighted so terribly! This is a tragedy!"

"Hmm," a deep rumble from the other end of the line makes Jaskier's thoughts come to a screeching halt and he's quite certain he squeaks in shock. "Roach will forgive you in a couple of days."

"Okay, yeah, that's... that's good?" Jaskier says feeling suddenly much more sober than the moment before.

"Just don't do it again tomorrow and you'll be fine," the deep voice rumbles again.

Jaskier is sure he will die.

Of embarrassment or something else, he's not sure. But he. will. die.

"I won't, I promise," Jaskier agrees, probably too fast but he doesn't care. Anything to make the gorgeous man on the other end of the phone to keep talking to him.

"Hmm... she'll sulk in somewhere for tonight. Don't worry about it, she'll be back to pester you first thing in the morning."

Jaskier laughs despite himself. Or maybe it's the alcohol.

"She's not pestering me, she's just very enthusiastic about getting her food on time."

"That she is." The man falls silent for a moment too long for Jaskier to itch to start to babble some nonsense before he continues, "I hope she hasn't caused too much trouble for you. Or tried to bring dead birds inside to eat."

"What? No! Also eww thank the gods not." Jaskier cringes at the mental image of dead birds inside the house.

"That's good. She eats most of them in the yard."

"Okay, I did not need to know that, the cat sleeps in the same bed with me and now you're telling me she eats birds outside? Double eww."

The man has the audacity to laugh. Laugh!

But Jaskier isn't going to complain, he has never heard something as delightful as the deep laugh from the other end of the line.

He wants to hear it again.

And again.

"Um... any other useful tips to please the great beast?"

"Hmm... she likes to be scratched under the chin and behind the ears. But don't touch the base of her tail or she will bite you."

"Duly noted."

"Hmm... Don't feed her too many treats, you'll make her fuzzy."

"I would never- Fiona rattled on me, didn't she?" Jaskier sighs.

The line turns quiet.

"H-hello?" Jaskier looks at his phone but the line hasn't disconnected.

"...You talked with Fiona?"

"She, uh, she texted me first? I've been helping her with her homework?" Jaskier babbles before his brain supplies him with the most important information, "Wait! She told me you gave her permission! Melitele's sake I would have never talked to her if I knew she was doing it behind your back I promise I have no ill intentions I've just helped her with school stuff I swear!"

"Hmm..." a grunt is the only sound Jaskier hears from the other end of the line. He holds his breath. If all comes to worst, he'll be out of work and out of the house tomorrow.

"I'll talk to her. Thank you for helping her with her school, I'm... none of us is very good with that stuff. I guess she needed more help than I realised."

"Oh!" Jaskier tries to contain his surprise but he's not very successful, "No, you shouldn't thank me! Fiona has been nothing but the best student, she's very bright!"

"She is." There is another break at the end of the line and Jaskier is ready to lose his shit. "I'll talk to her about lying. You should sleep the alcohol off."

"I'm not drunk!" Jaskier exclaims offended and earns a laugh from cat dad.

"You're wasted, I can hear it even on phone. Go to sleep, Julian."

"Um... right. I'll... I'll go to sleep, and and try not to get smothered to death by an angry cat," he stammers embarrassed. Hearing his name in that low gravel shouldn't make his heart feel like it'll burst out of his chest. "G-good night, Geralt."

"Good night, Julian."

He will die. He will surely die, of embarrassment or happiness or Roach deciding it's finally time to sleep on his face the whole night, he doesn't know. But he will surely die.

[thelastspeecher]

King Stansort AU - Shermie

During a break from working on my thesis defense, I opened up my Stansort AU doc on a whim to reread some stuff, like I often do.  And I stumbled across something I had written but never finished, so never posted.  So, naturally, I finished off the thing (it was almost done anyways) and here it is: Shermie finally showing up in the AU where Stan marries a foreign princess and becomes a king consort.  Think of it as something to tide you all over until I update “Recoil” next week.

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

              “Mr. Pines?”  Shermie looked up from the stack of homework he was currently sifting through.  He beamed at one of his favorite students, Devin.

              “What’s up, Devin?” he asked kindly.  Devin chewed on his lip.

              “I, um…”  Devin took a breath.  “Do you have a brother named Stanley?”

              “…Yes, I do,” Shermie said.  He leaned back in his chair.  “How did you know that?”

              “Well, for Social Studies, we have to bring in a current event every week and explain it,” Devin said, talking much faster than he usually did. Dread began to mount in Shermie’s chest.

              If Stan’s on the news, that can’t be good.

              “And my mom, she was helping me find a current event to bring in,” Devin continued.  “She likes following royal stuff, even royal stuff from places like Denmark or whatever. Not just England, like most people.” Shermie nodded silently.  “So she told me to- to use this.”  Devin dug a piece of paper out of his backpack and placed it on Shermie’s desk.  “I thought that the guy looked sorta like you, and then I read that he had the same last name and was from New Jersey like you are and is- is that your brother?” Shermie stared down at the piece of paper.  It was a printout of a news article from online, with a large image at the top of the page.  The image was a picture of two people dressed in fine clothes being showered with petals. And one of the people was unmistakably Stan.

              “Yes, that is my brother,” Shermie said in a thick voice.  He cleared his throat.  “Do you need this back or-”

              “No, I’ve- I’ve got two copies.  Just in case you wanted to keep that one,” Devin said.  Shermie nodded.  “Are you upset?”

              “What?  No! No, I’m not.  Just surprised.”  Shermie smiled in a reassuring manner.  “And thankful.  Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”  Devin nodded jerkily.  “You should probably go if you don’t want to be late for your next class.”

              “Right!  Okay, bye, Mr. Pines!”  Shermie waved at Devin as he raced out of the classroom.  He looked back at the article resting on his desk.

              “American Pauper Marries European Princess”?  That’s…how did Stan do that?  I doubt any of us would be able to marry royalty, but Stan seems the least likely.  He’s not refined at all.  Shermie picked the piece of paper up and stared intently at the picture.  There was no one else it could be, other than Stan. Stan seemed well-groomed, well-kempt, and euphoric as he beamed at his new wife.  Guilt trickled into Shermie.  Stan had been kicked out while Shermie was deployed and was long gone by the time his tour ended.  It was something that weighed on Shermie; the wondering of whether things might have gone differently if he’d been there or gotten home sooner or even tried just a bit harder to find Stan.  Clearly, I didn’t need to, if he married a princess.  But still…

              “Hi, Mr. Pines!”  A voice shocked Shermie from his thoughts.  He forced a smile at the flood of students entering his classroom.

              “Hello, Bethany,” he replied, unable to see her in the mass but recognizing her voice.  He shook off the guilt and regret.

              I have to focus.  My students don’t deserve to lose out on English class just because I found out where my brother is.  He managed a half-smile.  Even if they’d prefer to spend the whole period doing anything but learning.

----- 

              When he arrived home, Shermie dropped his bags by the front door, kissed his wife Amelia and their young son, Caleb, and made a beeline for the desktop computer.  A quick search on the internet for “Stanley Pines” resulted in dozens of hits about Shermie’s younger brother, almost all linked to his relationship with royalty. Specifically, the royal family of the small European country of Lirone.

              Lirone?  I’ve never heard of it.  Shermie clicked a few links, trying to get as much information as quickly as possible into Stan’s current circumstances.  Then again, I’m not a geography teacher.  He spent well over an hour diving into articles on Stan, Lirone, and the Lirone royal family, only stopping when his wife called him for dinner.

              “In a minute, love,” he said absent-mindedly, still focused intently on an article detailing Stan’s wedding.  Amelia walked into the living room and propped a hand on her hip.

              “What exactly are you doing?” she asked.  Shermie tore his gaze away from the computer screen.

              “I know where my brother is.”

              “Well, yeah, so do I.  He does research in Oregon.”

              “No, not that brother.  My other one. Stanley,” Shermie said.  Amelia frowned, confused.  “He made a big show of being allowed to drink champagne at our wedding.”

              “Oh!  And then, because he was talking about it so much, got told he couldn’t anymore?”

              “Yep.  That’s him.” Shermie looked back at the computer. “I don’t know if you remember, but he got kicked out while I was on tour.  I tried to track him down when I came back and- and I couldn’t.”

              “But now you know where he is.”

              “Yes.  One of my students gave me a news article today about him,” Shermie said.  Amelia sucked air between her teeth.

              “Oh, that can’t be good.”

              “No, it’s- honestly, it’s better than good.  It’s astounding.  Stan married a princess.”  Amelia’s jaw dropped.  “That was my reaction, too.”  Shermie clicked on another link, this one leading to contact information for the Lironian royal family.  “I need to talk to him.”

              “Honey, I don’t know if you should,” Amelia said gently.  Shermie froze in the middle of filling out a form. “He married a princess and never told you or Ford or your parents.  If he wanted to talk to you, he woulda sent an invite to the wedding, right?”

              “I…”  Shermie’s hands fell away from the keyboard.  “…You’re right.”  A weary weight settled on his shoulders.  “He has resources available to him.  If he wanted, he would have been more than able to contact me.  But he chose not to do that, even when he got married.” Shermie hung his head.  “I can’t- I can’t really blame Stan for not wanting to talk to me.  I shoulda tried harder to find him, I-”  Amelia walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

              “Don’t blame yourself.  You did what you could.”

              “Yes, but-”

              “Maybe he just needs time.  I’m sure he’ll reach out when he’s good and ready.”

              “Maybe,” Shermie mumbled.  Crying began to emit from Caleb’s playpen, which was set up in the middle of the living room.  Shermie got up from the computer.  “I’ll take care of the little stinker if you want to serve up dinner?”

              “Sure thing,” Amelia said.  She kissed him on the cheek.  Shermie walked over to the playpen and picked his son up.  He glanced back at the computer.

              Amelia’s right.  I need to let Stan make the first move.  But that doesn’t mean I won’t keep an eye on him and what he gets up to.  I am still his big brother, after all.

----- 

              Shermie turned on the news.  For four years now, he’d been following the actions of the Lirone royal family. Perusing pictures of them at events, watching speeches translated into English, and being moved to tears by announcement of the princesses’ birth.  He was still heartbroken that Stan had yet to contact him, despite being a father now.

              But that’s not what’s important at the moment.  What’s important is that Stan’s wife was shot and they still haven’t caught the would-be assassin.  Shermie sat down on the couch to wait for any updates. The phone rang.

              “Amelia, would you mind?” he called.  The phone stopped ringing.  He could faintly make out Amelia asking who was on the phone.  The news segment changed.

              “In international news, we’re receiving word that the royal family of the small European country of Lirone had a visit this last month,” the newscaster said.  Shermie leaned forward.  “The news of the visit was public information in Lirone, but kept out of international news organizations, due to the country’s unique privacy laws.  However, now that the visit is over, we can retroactively inform an international audience that it occurred.”  A picture appeared on screen of Stan and his daughters walking in a garden.  Shermie smiled.  “Apparently, the visit was from none other than the king consort’s estranged twin, a Dr. Stanford Pines.”  The picture zoomed out, revealing Ford walking with Stan and his daughters. Shermie’s smile was wiped away.

              What?

              “Shermie,” Amelia said, walking into the living room.  She held out the phone.  “It’s for you.”

              “Sweetheart, I’m not sure I-” Shermie started, his eyes still glued to the television screen.

              “It’s Stan.”  Shermie’s head whipped around.  Amelia nodded.  “So are you gonna take it, or should I tell a literal king that you’re too busy watching TV to talk to him?”  Shermie held out his hand.  “That’s what I thought.”  Amelia handed him the phone.  Shermie swallowed and held the phone up to his ear.

              “…Stan?” he croaked.

              “Yeah.”  At the sound of his younger brother’s distinct voice, Shermie could feel tears welling up.  “Yeah, it’s- it’s me.  Look, I, uh-” Stan took a breath.  “I figured it’s about time you knew what I’ve been up to.”

              “I know.”

              “Wait, you do?” Stan asked.  There was a muffled commotion on his end of the call.  “Danny-”  Stan said something in a foreign language.  A high-pitched voice asked a question in the same tongue.  “Non.”

              “Apr-”

              “Non,” Stan said, more firmly.  He barked out an order, still not speaking English.  There was another muffled commotion.  “Sorry about that,” Stan said.  “It’s a little bit crazy over here.”

              “I know.  Being a father is difficult.”

              “You know about-”

              “Yes, Stanley,” Shermie said.  “I know you married a princess, who became a queen.  I know that you have twin daughters.  And I know that your wife was recently the subject of an assassination attempt.”  Stan was quiet for a moment.

              “How?” he finally asked.

              “One of my students stumbled across an article about you when you were married.  I’ve been keeping track of you since then.”

              “I…”  Stan seemed at a loss for words.  He finally let out a small laugh.  “Well, there goes the whole little speech I had planned.”  Shermie smiled.  “Ford had no clue.”

              “Stanford is brilliant.  But he tends to focus his observational skills on things other than human interactions.”

              “Yeah.  You’re right.”  Stan cleared his throat.  “So, uh, Ford, he- he actually visited us here in Lirone.”

              “The news just mentioned that.”  Shermie leaned against the back of the couch.  “I’m honestly surprised you invited him.”

              “I didn’t.  Turns out his research partner is my brother-in-law, Fiddleford.  Ford saw what happened to Angie on the news and convinced Fiddleford to let him visit.”

              “Really?  During such a tumultuous time?”

              “Yep.  It didn’t go well.  I, uh, I actually kicked him out.  But that’s not- that’s not why I’m calling.  I’m calling to…”  Stan took a breath.  “Invite you to the castle.”  Shermie sat up straight.

              “Wait, what?”

              “It’s- my kids, they deserve to know my side of the family.  I shouldn’t keep them from meeting you and Mom, just ‘cause I don’t know how to let go of a grudge.”

              “But you don’t want them know Pops?”

              “Oh, hell no.  If Pops shows up, he’s getting kicked outta the country right away.”

              “Smart move.”

              “But yeah, I- I want my kids to get to know their Uncle Shermie.  They really liked Ford and he’s not half as good with kids as you are, so I know they’d love you.”  Stan paused.  “And…I wanna see you, too.  It’s been a long time.”

              “It most definitely has.”

              “So you’ll visit?”

              “Of course!”

              “That’s- that’s great.”  Stan sounded relieved.  A muffled voice said something on Stan’s end of the call.  “I gotta go.  But, uh, I’ll have my people set it up, okay?”

              “You won’t be-”

              “I don’t really have the time to set it up myself,” Stan said.  Shermie’s heart sunk.

              Right.  He’s a king consort.  He has more important things to do.

              “We’ve got the best people working here, though, and they’ll call you to iron out the details.  I really- I really gotta go.  There’s a debriefing and-”  Stan cut himself off.  “You don’t need to know about it.  All right, bye.”

              “Bye,” Shermie said, barely getting it in before Stan hung up. Footsteps sounded.  Shermie looked up.  Amelia had joined him in the living room.  She raised an eyebrow.

              “Well?” she asked.  Shermie let out a long sigh.

              “It looks like I’m going to Europe.”

----- 

              Shermie nervously drummed his fingers on his lap as he stared out the window. His luggage was packed in the trunk of the town car that had come to pick him up from the airport.

              “I’ve never had a chauffer before,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. The driver glanced at him but didn’t say anything.  “Not a talker, then,” Shermie mumbled to himself.  He looked down at the bag sitting by his feet containing gifts for Danny and Daisy.  His mouth went dry.

              That was a mistake!  Why did I bother getting presents for literal princesses?  They can get anything they want.  He took a deep, calming breath.  Relax.  It’s going to be fine.  He resumed looking out the window.  While he’d been distracted, the car had turned down a long, winding driveway leading to a castle.  Shermie swallowed.

              The town car came to a stop.  Before Shermie could even reach for the handle, the driver jumped out of the car and opened the door for him.

              “Thank you,” Shermie said.  The driver merely nodded.  Shermie grabbed the bag with his nieces’ presents and stepped outside.  He turned to the driver.  “Do you know where Stan is?”

              “The king consort got caught up in a meeting,” a voice said.  Shermie turned around again.  A man strode over.  He was short and slender, wearing fine, tailored clothes.  The man stuck his hand out for Shermie to shake.  “The name’s Lute.”

              “Lute…you’re one of the princes?” Shermie asked.  Lute grinned.

              “Yep.”

              “I recognize the name.  As well as, to be honest, the nose.”  Lute laughed.

              “I’m not offended, don’t worry.  The royal nose is large and distinctive.”  He blew his dark bangs out of his face.  “It’s also one of the first things both your brothers mentioned when meeting me.”

              “That sounds like my brothers,” Shermie said.  Lute raised an eyebrow.

              “You mentioned it as well.”

              “Fair,” Shermie said lightly.  The driver set Shermie’s items on the ground next to him.  Lute looked down and caught sight of the bag containing Danny and Daisy’s gifts.

              “What’s in there?”

              “I-”  Shermie rubbed the back of his neck.  “This is stupid, but I brought Danny and Daisy some presents.”  Lute was silent.  “I just- I felt bad about missing their birthdays and- I’ll bring them back.”

              “Why?”

              “Well, Danny and Daisy are princesses.  They can get whatever they want.”

              “Pfft.”  Lute snorted. “Not quite.  Do they have access to more than the average child? Yes.  But Angie and Stan don’t want their daughters to be spoiled.  Not to mention, they rarely get American items.” Lute smiled reassuringly at Shermie. “Trust me, they’ll be happy just to meet you.  When you give them gifts?  They’ll be – ah, what’s the phrase – over the moon.”  Shermie smiled back hesitantly.  Over Lute’s shoulder, he saw the large main door open.  His mouth went dry.  A man exited the castle and walked over to Lute and Shermie.

              “Uh, heya, Sherm,” Stan said awkwardly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks.  Acting on impulse, Shermie abruptly embraced Stan.  Stan stiffened in shock at first, but relaxed and returned the gesture. Shermie broke off the hug.

              “Hello, Stanley.  It’s good to see you again.”

              “Yeah, uh, you- you too,” Stan mumbled.  He cleared his throat.  “Um, come- come inside.  If the girls don’t see you in the next five minutes, they’re gonna riot.”

              “That’s the only reason you want me inside?” Shermie deadpanned.  “You’re not concerned that if I stay out all night I might freeze to death?  Or be attacked by bears?”  Stan rolled his eyes.  “You don’t want me to come in because you want to catch up with me?  No, it’s because your daughters will be upset? Sure.  Whatever you say.”  Stan punched Shermie on the shoulder playfully.

              “Shut up and get your ass inside the castle.”

              “Well, since you asked so nicely…” Shermie said slowly.  Stan let out a laugh.  Shermie beamed, glad that his tactic to make things less awkward had worked.  “Don’t worry, I’m as excited as your daughters are.”

              “That’s a high bar, Sherm.  They loved it when Ford was here.  I think they’re expecting someone that looks just like him.”  Stan looked Shermie up and down.  “They’re gonna be disappointed.”  Shermie rolled his eyes.  Stan turned around and began to walk back to the castle.  “No use delaying their disappointment!  C’mon, Sherm.”  Lute and Shermie exchanged an amused look.  Stan stopped at the door to look back.  “I’m a king, Shermie.  I can have you court-martialed.”

              “You may be a king,” Shermie said, picking up his luggage, “but you’re also my little brother.  If you court-martial me, I’ll have no choice but to tell the press all about Mr. Tummy.” Stan grimaced.

              “Fine.”  He sighed in an exaggerated manner.  “I won’t court-martial you.”

              Shaking his head to hide his smile, Shermie followed Stan and Lute inside.

[lin--zhang]

overexertion | mic&lin

who // micaiai lemeur & lin zhang when // friday, august 14, 2022 where // micaiai’s apartment what // lin and micaiai are meant to have a simple dinner in, but lin’s headache gets in their way.  notes // fluff

@micaiai-lemeur

It had been a busy couple of weeks for Lin. With classes looming just around the corner, and his thesis on the agenda for completion within the next two semesters, along with the work he was doing as a research assistant, he was exhausted, hours packed with work and research. When Micaiai invited him over for dinner, Lin was happy to accept. But now that he was at the Dominant's door, there was a headache behind his eyes, and he felt tired beyond belief. Still, he smiled, albeit a little weakly, as he knocked on the door and waited to be greeted.

Inviting Lin over for dinner seemed like the next logical step for Mic. He was being gentle with the boy so as to not scare him away, but he also wanted to make his more serious interests in the other known. He’d prepared them a simple dinner and was setting the food down when he heard a knock on the door. Smiling, he walked to the door and pulled it open. “Lin— come in.” He motioned him in.

Lin smiled a little nervously when Mic opened the door. He still felt some butterflies when he was alone with the Dominant. And this was intimate. They were together in his home. "Thank you for having me," he said politely as he entered the space. The headache behind his eyes pounded slightly, and his smile fell for a second. "Uh...did you have a good day today?"

“Of course.” Mic responded before catching the way the others smile faltered. For a moment he thought that maybe Lin was worried about being in his home. Throwing caution to the wind and reached to brush his fingers across the others cheek. “Are you alright?”

"Hm...?" Lin hummed before nodding his head, eyes slightly widened as the Dominant touched his cheek. He didn't want to impose worry on Mic. "Yes, I'm okay. Sorry. It's just a little headache that I'm sure will go away in no time. Nothing to worry about."

It didn’t abate any worry Mic was having about the other but he smiled and decided to simply keep an eye on it. “Come on...” he guided the submissive into a spot at the table before moving to the kitchen to get a tall glass of water. “I want you to drink all of that.”

Lin let Micaiai lead him to the kitchen, sitting down at the table, and watched as the Dominant retrieved a very full glass of water for him. "Thank you. It's really unnecessary," he said, but he did as he was told and started to drink the water. It never hurt to be more hydrated. Even as he said it, he could feel his body sinking into the chair, relieved to be off his feet after long hours in the lab. "It happens sometimes after a long day." Long weeks really and about to get longer when classes resumed.

“I disagree. Water is always important.” Mic moved again and went into the kitchen to retrieve their food. “How often?” He asked, concerned. He set down the plate of chicken and rice in front of the other. “Afraid I’m not overly creative in the kitchen.”

"True," Lin agreed. "I meant your concern though." He gave the Dominant another weak smile. "Maybe a couple times a week. This week was...a lot. I'm getting ready for classes to start again and working and..." Lin paused and smiled. "I'm sorry. I'm speaking entirely too much about myself right now."

Mic shook his head, “I think my concern will always be warranted.” He responded, eyes moving over the others face. He was listening patiently when Lin cut himself off. “No you are not. I asked.” He frowned, “How often are you submitting? Or even taking a mental break?”

"Oh um..." Lin hesitated and thought about when the last time was that he knelt for anyone. "It might have been...some weeks ago. It's hard to remember." Mental breaks too were scarce lately. The book he'd been reading for enjoyment was sitting on his nightstand at home, quite abandoned, and he'd hardly done any skateboarding. "Sorry," he said again, knowing this all probably made him look bad to Mic.

Mic was really frowning then, eyes full of more concern than he should probably let show. “Don’t apologize, but I think you know that it’s affecting your health. I promise I’m only concerned.” He sighed and looked to the plates of food. “Eat some of that, please, and finish all the water. Then we can discuss it more.”

Lin had forgotten that food had even been placed in front of him. "Okay. Thank you for cooking for us," he said in a quiet voice before starting to eat. It was good. Lin liked simple meals, and this was a classically simple meal. Chicken and rice. "It's very good." It did make him feel a little better to sit down and eat a meal instead of downing something quickly. So he ate some and then finished the rest of his water.

Mic did smile fondly then, “You are welcome.” He hoped the other didn’t misconstrue his intentions here. They weren’t established as anything and he did not want to push the other too hard or too fast. He ate his own food, “Almost like comfort food to me.”

Lin nodded, agreeing with the Dominant. "It is. Warm and simple and tastes very good." More elaborate dishes could be nice too, but right now, this was the perfect meal. There was a little more ease in Lin's body, just slightly, as he did what Mic told him to do. Just a small relief.

Mic offered another smile and then lapses into silence. It wasn’t his normal behavior but he felt like Lin might need a couple of moments to gather his thoughts and settle in their current space. Once they were both done with their dinner they could more seriously discuss what was going on.

Lin didn't mind silence at all. Not usually. Right now, it was mixed for him. He worried a bit that he'd shown a not so professional side of himself to Mic. He didn't want the Dominant to think that he couldn't handle himself. He didn't want him to suddenly decide Lin wasn't worth his time. All the while, the pounding behind his eyes continued, though it lessened slightly as he ate. When he finished eating, he gave Mic a smile, despite his fears. "Thank you. Again. It was very good."

Mic finished his own food, glad to see that the other finished the water and ate most of his food. "Thank you, Lin." He said as he stood up to take his plate. He moved to drop the plates off in the kitchen before he was returning back to the other, "Come... Will you sit on the couch with me?" He held a hand out for Lin.

Lin nodded his head slowly and took Mic's hand before getting up from the table. He followed the Dominant to the couch and sat down, glancing at Mic, wondering what he was thinking. He tried to ignore his headache and his own anxiety over what might happen next.

Mic moved them both to the couch. After a moment, he cleared his throat and asked softly. “Would you like to kneel for me, Lin? I would like that very much.” It was obvious to him that the submissive needed something.

Lin looked at Mic, eyes wide at the question he’d just asked. Kneel? Lin had never done that for anyone other than family or someone at the brothel when necessary, always keeping the scene PG. He wondered what Mic might expect from a submissive that knelt for him. “U-Uh...sure. Yes, of course I’d like to.” He blushed, feeling awkward.

There were no other expectations on Mic’s part except for the kneeling. Reaching over for a pillow, he settled it at his feet and smiled at the man. “Come. Kneel here.” His hand slowly guided Lin. “Kneel in whatever position is most comfortable for you. You may rest your head on my thigh if you desire.”

Lin moved carefully, slowly, and knelt on the pillow. "Um...thank you," he said quietly, taking a moment to look up at Micaiai with uncertain eyes. He eventually leaned forward to rest his head on the Dominant's thigh, the headache making itself present.

Mic hoped that Lin would slowly begin to relax around him. All he could do was try his best to keep the other at ease. If he had to admit one thing, it was that he liked seeing the other on his knees before him. He dropped a hand down and ran it slowly through his hair. “Just relax... breathe for me.”

Lin thought the hand moving through his hair was very nice. He closed his eyes and did his best to relax, head still resting on Mic’s thigh, and breathed deeply as instructed.

Mic wanted to stay like this for some time. Simply to enjoy the way Lin felt leaning against him. He continued to run his fingers through Lin’s hair, fingertips occasionally rubbing against his scalp.

Lin wondered if it would count as submitting if he fell asleep like this. Micaiai’s fingers in his hair were making him want to do exactly that. His own fingers found their way to the hem of Mic’s pant leg, unconsciously fiddling with the fabric.

Mic continued his motions, urging the man to just relax and let go for a moment. Whatever was going on, it had clearly taken a lot of him and he just wanted to take care of Lin. He smiled fondly as the other played with his pants.

Lin started to drift off. The hand in his hair was soothing. Eventually his own hands stopped their fidgeting and stilled in his own lap. He would remain there as long as Mic wanted him to, resting against his thigh and finding some stillness.

Mic allowed Lin to stay there for awhile longer, his mind drifting slightly. It was later when he finally pulled his hand free and gently nudged Lin, “Come here, sweetheart.” He responded softly as he urged Lin up towards the couch. He guided the submissive, wanting him to sit close to him.

Lin opened his eyes at the sound of Mic's voice and the feeling of being nudged. Looking up at the Dominant with sleepy eyes, he nodded and slowly got up off of his kneels, letting Mic lead him back to the couch. He rubbed his knees a little bit and then let his hands rest in his lap again.

"Good boy." Mic couldn't help but let the sentence slip free, hand moving out to brush against his cheek gently. "Are you feeling any better now?" He asked softly.

Lin wasn't sure what it was about hearing Mic say those words. Good boy. "Mm." he said, rubbing his eyes a little bit. "A fair bit, yes." The headache pounded less, becoming more of a dull ache.

"Good... I am glad..." Mic let out a deep sigh and looked the other over as he thought of how to approach what was on his mind. "Lin... This is probably not my place... but how often do you submit to others?"

Lin tilted his head and thought about how to answer. "I...forget sometimes when I'm preoccupied." He wore a sheepish expression. "I kneel for my brother when I can."

Mic reached out and ran a hand through Lin's hair again as he spoke, "I think that is something that we should work on, what do you think?" He responded softly, "Especially if this is going somewhere a little more serious."

Lin looked at Mic with some surprise in his expression. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to take on my needs just because I’ve been irresponsible.” He bit his lip, glance drifting. “Do you...think we’re going somewhere serious...?”

Mic shook his head, "I don't need you to apologize-- that is not a burden to me in the least, Lin." He didn't want the other to feel like he couldn't come to him. "I would like to think so... or at least, I would like to pursue the possibility if you did."

Lin could only sit there and wonder why. Why was Micaiai even interested in him? Lin felt like an imposter, like he'd been portraying some normal person who had lived a normal life, had had a normal amount of lovers for someone his age, but the truth was that he was just plain weird. "I would like that but...I think I've been giving you a wrong impression of myself. I've never actually...been with anyone before. I don't really know how to do any of this..."

Mic offered the man a smile as he spoke, “You don’t have to know, Lin...” he wasn’t exactly surprised by his lack of experience but he had still been trying to tread carefully. “I also don’t want to push you too far...” be cleared his throat, “so I need you to be open with me. Tell me when you like something and when you don’t.”

"You're not pushing me too far," Lin said. He just wondered why out of all the people Vannes had to offer, people who had seen and done more than Lin, how it was that Micaiai was still there. Still, he slowly nodded his head. "I'll tell you..." he said, blushing bashfully.

“Good boy.” Mic couldn’t help but let the words slip out again as his hand dropped down to his neck. “I’d still like to talk more about you submitting— I think you need to find a more regular routine. Whether that be the brothel or... if you’d like... you may come and kneel for me whenever you please.”

Micaiai had told Lin to say when he liked something or didn't like something, right? So Lin put a hand over Micaiai's and gave him a small smile. "I...like when you touch me this way," he admitted, still blushing quite a bit. "And I'd like it...if I could kneel for you regularly."

Mic was grinning then, “then I will keep touching you like that.” He told the other, fingers gently dancing across the skin of his neck. “It can be arranged...” he hummed and inched a little closer to the submissive. “May I kiss you?”

Lin kept his hand over Mic's gently, allowing him to do as he pleased. When the Dominant leaned in closer, he felt a spike of apprehension in his chest, naturally nervous, but also a bit excited. "Yes," he said simply.

Mic didn't hesitate when he got the permission and lean in so that he could steal a kiss from the man's lips. He was gentle in his movements, but also made it clear just how much he desired Lin.

Lin felt a little clumsy in the kiss at first, could feel the heat rush to his face in response to his inexperience. But Mic’s lips were soft and Lin leaned into the experience of kissing him, gradually growing more familiar and comfortable.

Mic was only glad the other was being receptive to the kiss. He deepened the kiss for a moment before he was pulling back,  “I shouldn’t let myself get carried away.”

When Mic pulled back, Lin looked at him, at first unsure if there was something wrong, but the Dominant's expression reassured him. "Mm...what if...I wanted you to?" Lin felt incredibly shy, very nervous, but he did have desires.

Mic grinned, “You want to?” He was worried about going too fast but he couldn’t deny that he wanted Lin. “If you want... then we can go there.” He told the other.

Lin smiled a little sheepishly. "I...I mean...of course, I do want. Maybe...maybe not today. I just...don't want you to think you have to treat me delicately just because I never..."

Mic nodded his head in understanding, a hand reaching out to brush across the smooth skin of his cheek. "Well... I'll have you know... that I do want to-- but I never want to pressure you." He told the other, making the line clear. "Sweet boy." He smiled.

Lin nodded his head, unable to stop the smile on his face when he heard Mic’s title for him. “Then...maybe sometime soon we could...you know...” Have sex. Lin had turned off that side of him, convinced he had other more important things to do, but Mic was changing quite a lot of his formerly held perceptions of himself.

The dominant laughed then, “Yes... that sounds like a pleasant idea indeed.” He tucked his head down suddenly so he could press his lips to Lin’s neck. The boy was positively beautiful to him and he intended on showing him every moment he got.

Lin was a little surprised by the move to kiss his neck, but he certainly didn't mind it one bit. He focused on that spot, where Mic's lips met his skin, the way his skin tingled there. He wondered if he'd ever get so used to it that he didn't hyper focus on it like this.August 23, 2020

The dominant pressed a few more kisses to the smooth expanse to the others neck before pulling back and grinning at the submissive. “What would you like to do now? We can watch a movie... get all spread out here and just relax. If your head is feeling alright of course.”

Lin let himself relax a little bit when Micaiai pulled back, resting against the couch cushions. "A movie sounds nice," he said. His headache had dulled some and was more than manageable now. Enough so that a movie would be just fine.  

[zayndrivesmeinvain]

The One Where He Comes to your College Graduation

-

The moment you’ve been waiting for, all the long sleepless nights and falling asleep in the library has paid off. You graduation day is finally here and you couldn’t be more proud of yourself, you’ve come a long way and getting two different degrees will really pay off. Since you’ve completed your internship last summer, they were highly impressed by your work ethic and drive to learn that they offered you a full time position for the fall.

You’re beyond excited but your nerves have gotten the best of you, both of your parents will be attending but they recently haven’t been on the best of terms, your younger siblings will also be attending and you somewhat feel responsible to create a sense of role model for them since you’ve done so well since both of your parents didn’t go to college and you are the first in the family. Your family never severely struggled, however there were bumps in the road and your parents had to work 2-3 jobs at times when you were younger to pay the bills and get food on your table.

You’ve been very fortunate to have the parents that you have because they have done so much for you, however you saw how they struggled with you and your siblings and you vowed that your children would never have to ever wonder if they’ll have a meal the next day, or ever let your children see you in such distress that you witnessed your parents.

-

You’ve just arrived at your graduation ceremony and you’re waiting impatiently in the back with the rest of the graduates. You palms begin to sweat and you just want to have your diploma in your hands by now. Big crowds make you nervous and waiting your turn does too. You’ve spotted a few of your friends as more people start to walk through and make their way in. They look just as impatient as you do, however happiness over runs those emotions. As you look away for a moment, a wave of white overcomes the room and the one big room feels so small.

They required us to wear some sort of white or light colored outfit and you’re thankful they did because the pressure of finding a dress these past few weeks had to be the last thing on your mind with finals and thesis’ due. Thankfully, you found a beautiful thigh length flowy dress online and paired it with some nude wedges. Since it’s your big day you decided to bump it up by curling your hair and doing some extra make-up to symbolize your special day.

“Y/N, Y/N.. are you even listening?” you come out from your own thoughts and look back at your friends.

“ I’m sorry, I uh- I uh- was just thinking.. What were you saying?” a nervous laugh escapes my lips and I pull my attention to my friends.

“ I was asking if Harry was coming? Isn’t he in London recording again?” If you’re being completely honest the thought of Harry coming to your graduation never really crossed your mind. You obviously mentioned it, however you knew he was busy and last time you talked to him last night, he was in fact in the studio. He was there with a few of his friends having a few drinks and sharing some laughs. The pressure of having an album ready hasn’t taken its toll on Harry yet since it’s still early but when the time does come, he was be completely focused.

“ Oh, I don’t know. It’s been really hard for him to come back and forth all the time, and he had some meetings to get through this week so I doubt it.” Sadness has overcome your conscious but you can’t show your friends how you’re actually feeling because this is supposed to be one of the most exciting days of your lives. Harry has always tried his best to come to the important events in your life but it’s always caused an issue because he gets recognized and an important and beautiful day that is supposed to be yours, is spent having him sign his autographs and taking pictures with fans. It’s never his fault but the two of you had agreed maybe your graduation wasn’t the best place for him to come, which is why you never minded: until now.

-

You’ve been sitting in the metal folding chair for the past hour and graduation has moved smoothly. Attending a State University has really taken the pressure off of yourself because in realization there are thousands of students graduating today. Many of these students you haven’t seen since Freshman English, Math or Science. Some of these people have really changed since freshman year and some of those you never thought would graduate but they did it.

You notice your phone vibrating and you pull it out from your dress pocket and it’s a sweet message from Harry.

“ Hey Bubs, good luck today! I’m so proud of you and all that you’ve accomplished. I can’t wait to celebrate when I see you. xxH”

Even though you’re understanding, Harry is truly one of the very few people if not the only person you cared for if they came. Even though your parents helped pay for the first few semesters Harry has been the only one to take an interest in what you’ve been going for. He’s taken the time to really get into it with you and has listened to all your hopes and dreams, the last year he’s helped you pay for school even though you made a deal with him to pay him back. However, him paying for your schooling has helped you save up some money and you’ve caught up with rent and has let you buy some new appliances for your apartment.

You’ve always prided yourself on being independent, especially when it came to college. No one helped you when it came to filling out the applications or taking the SAT’s or helped you study for your AP classes in high school. Because your parents were so busy you often took the bus to interviews and college fairs throughout the city. When Harry come into your life, he insisted on helping you financially as much you let him but he never overstepped his boundaries. You never wanted him to feel as though you were taking advantage of him or his money because he earned that himself and he wasn’t your personally piggy bank even though he offered to be.

-

Names were being called and after 20 minutes your rows turn was up and you were about to walk across the stage. The moment you’ve been anxious about, studied hard for, pulled all nighters and even cried many times for, is here.

You walk over and get in line and only a few people are in front of you, all your beloved teachers are standing up there and some that you have never met before.

“ Y/N,” you walk across the stage, shake a few hands, exchange a few hugs and stop to take a final picture. The moment flashed before your eyes before you knew it, and it’s all over now. Your college career has finally come to an end and you couldn’t be more overjoyed yet sad at the same time. You spent countless hours in this building for pep-rallies and parties and you won’t be coming back. The last 4 years of your life have flashed before your eyes, and what you would do to go back.

-

My family rushes over to me as I meet them outside where the rest of the students have met their families. My parents are getting along for the sake of the day, my siblings holding onto balloons and flowers for me. My younger siblings run into my arms and I take them into a tight embrace as they congratulate me.

“ It seems like yesterday you were running around in your diaper in our first apartment together. I always knew you would do amazing things Y/N, I just didn’t know they would come so soon.” My mom pulls me into a tight embrace as I can feel her tears falling onto my shoulder. My mom has always been a very strong person, especially growing up as a teen mom, and she rarely has ever cried in front of me.

-

Out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of someone familiar. When realization kicks in, I instantly start running towards them and fall into their embrace.

“ You think I’d miss the most important day of your educational career, Bubs?” Harry really came all the way to the States to come visit me.

“ You seriously don’t know how much this means to me, Harry. Thank you.” A sweet quick peck was shared between us before the rest of my family joins us.

-

You ended up going back to your parents house after your graduation ceremony, where your parents made dinner and had a cake for you. You honestly preferred this over some lavish dinner, even though your family can be annoying and at times dramatic, you have stayed close knit together, and they take Harry’s job into consideration which leads to a lot of family gatherings.

One of your favorite parts of Harry is that he’s adjusted to your life so well, he knows that you don’t ask for much or even expect anything from him, he understands where you come from and how your family is. Your parents adore him and so do your siblings, it’s the perfect family picture with a lot of dark pasts.

-

The night is slowly coming to an end, dishes are being put away in the washer, napkins and tablecloths are being put away, drinks are shoved back into the freezer and cake is being wrapped up so you can take it back to your apartment.

You thank your parents once again, Harry and you make your way out the front door after many hugs and kisses and endless goodbyes and congradulations.

“ Are yeh ready to have a party of our own at home, Bub?” even in the dark you could see Harry’s eyebrows wiggling up and down, a swift smack to your ass followed by a gentle nudge to your arm.

[purplesurveys]

663

Well hello, good to see you again. How many surveys have you taken today? This is my first, and there’s a good chance it might be my only one seeing as I’m working on my thesis tonight and feeling a bit tired as it is. So the world is dying to know the longest you've ever been on an airplane. Uhh it was somewhere between 4–5 hours, during my visit to Shanghai. Speaking of airplanes, can you sleep on them easily or no? I’m sure I’m able to fall asleep easily, I just choose not to sleep in situations where I’m traveling with a whole group of people. The one time I passed out on a plane was my trip back to Manila coming from China, and that’s because we did a lot of walking and waiting that whole day before boarding. How long did you last drive in the car for? It was like a little more than an hour. I went to Pop-Up to meet up with Hans and Angela, because I asked them to get a bouquet of roses for me to give to Gabie (they know a cheap supplier so I asked them to do the whole ordering stuff for me) for our anniversary as a surprise; but that supplier flaked at the last minute so we had to go all the way to the Marikina flower stalls to have a bouquet arranged at the last minute :/ Then after waiting for that, I drove all the way to Gab’s friend’s house in Ortigas, because she was apparently there for a whole-day shoot. FINALLY my job was done and I drove back home. It was tbh so much driving to do in like an hour that even though the friend invited me to stay over for a bit, I had to decline because I literally just wanted to be back home lol. Name me your three favorite flowers, s'il vous plait. Favorite flowers are asked in so many surveys, so once and for all, here are mine lmao: peonies, carnations, and roses.

So if I were to touch the place you last itched, would it be awkward? Nope, but I’d be weirded out because nobody ever touches another person’s eyebrows. Have you ever given food at a homeless shelter? No. I don’t even know if we have those. I know for a fact we have orphanages, homes for SPED and homes for the aged, but I dunno about homeless people. This government doesn’t give a fuck about the poor. Has anyone a grade above you ever had a crush on you? It’s always possible, but I’ve never asked around nor has anyone ever told me. Can you fly? Be honest. Nah but there was a time that it was the superpower I wanted. Have you ever come close to drowning? Yep, when I was nine. My cousins and I made like a human train where we were holding on to each other’s legs and formed just this long line in the pool, but the thing is it was in the deep end. For some reason I eventually got dragged down but I couldn’t say anything because my head was already underwater. I had to kick frantically to escape the conga line and for them to know what was up. What books did you have to read for school for summer reading this year? Haven’t been through that shit since freshman year of high school. The last thing we had to read for English was Stevan Javellana’s Without Seeing the Dawn. We also have a set of books in Filipino, but I’ve already forgotten which ones they were. What were you doing right now 24 hours ago? I think I was having dinner with my family. If not, I was working on my thesis with Andrew. Have you ever tried counting sheep to get to sleep? Does it work? I only ever tried it as a kid because it’s all we saw in American shows and Mr. Bean and the way it was portrayed is that it was such a fool-proof way to fall asleep haha. On the nights I’d be too restless or feeling too awake to sleep, I would try it, but I quickly learned it was useless. I guess it maybe works for some people, but not me.

What did you give up last year for Lent? I never gave up anything for it, even when I still ~identified~ as Catholic. Is the window in this room currently open or closed? Windows are closed. But we have our main door open to let the cold air in because we have a screen door to separate the inside from the outside anyway. What is the weirdest thing you have ever licked? Idk I try not to lick as my first reaction lmaoooo. I hate the feeling of soaked paper straws, though. Can you control your dreams if you realize you are dreaming? Nope. I always say I’m going to try, but I just never realize it when I’m already dreaming; it always feels real to me, no matter how weird the situation is. Is your phone fully charged right now? Nope, quite the opposite. It’s at 6%. If you gave yourself a symbol (ex: star) to represent you, it would be...? The yellow sparkling stars emoji. Combine your two favorite animals. What kind of animal do you get? Eledog? Today at school it was boys make girls sandwiches day. What kind of sandwich should I tell the boys to make you? Cool. Didn’t know that was a thing. My go-to sandwich is a classic banh mi. So...remember Girl Scout cookies? Any favorites you had/have? No. Never had them, never seen them, never been sold them. What is the name of the main character in your favorite book? I don’t have a favorite book but Scarlett O’Hara is one of my favorite characters. How about your favorite movie? For my top three favorites it’s Mark and Joanna Wallace, April and Frank Wheeler, and Will Hunting. If I gave you a box of chocolates, which would you hope to get? Nothing with dates, fruits, nuts, or raisins inside. I'll give you a box of chocolates but I'll eat the coconut filled ones, ok? YES, take all of them. What does your middle name rhyme with? Shell. Have you ever caught your clothes on fire before? Nope. Describe the weirdest car you've ever seen. I’ve seen a handful of cars that have modified to have monster wheels, even though they’re too suburban/small/normal to have that kind of wheel. It looks so fucking tacky. Which key on the keyboard do you think you use the least? I have never pressed the function key on my present laptop. How many times have you seen your favorite band in concert? Twice out of the three times they’ve visited. How many concerts have you seen in general? Four big, foreign acts. I’ve been to countless local shows/gigs. Are you any good at improv? Not at all. I’d be too scared to be asked to do it. Turn your eyes away from the screen. What is the first thing you see? My milk tea from Coco! Been craving it for a while and my parents got it for me this evening, so yay. When you pass a stranger in the hall, do you smile or no? For the most part no.  Do you have any special handshakes with friends? I don’t. Are you better at writing fiction or nonfiction? Nonfiction, without a freakin’ doubt. I’m garbage with anything fiction, whether reading or writing or analyzing it. Did you ever have to use Wordly Wise in school? I have never heard of that. Can you keep a secret? Technically no, because almost all secrets I know end up getting to Gabie. But Gab gives no shits about secrets/gossip so it’s also technically safe, and I don’t spill secrets to anybody else after that.

[noona-clock]

First Impression - Part 2

Genre: Museum!AU

Pairing: Youngjae (Got7) x You

By Admin B

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 

You loved your job. To be honest, you hadn’t expected to, but now you could safely say you really and truly did.

For about three years, you’d been a curator at the art museum. It hadn’t been part of your life plan, though you actually hadn’t even had a life plan to begin with. You were the kind of person to live totally in the present, living life practically day to day and going wherever the wind took you.

You’d only landed this job through a series of lucky - and sometimes slightly odd - happenstances and coincidences. After graduating from college with your Bachelor’s degree in Art, you’d been given the opportunity to intern at a museum back in your hometown. This led you to getting your Master’s in Museum Studies, and a curating job in a city hours away just kind of... landed in your lap. Not really, but things had worked out too well for you to refuse.

So here you were. Three years later, still loving life. Which was quite an accomplishment seeing how resistant (and, dare I say, downright scared) you were regarding anything long-term.

Maybe the reason you loved this job so much was that just about every day was different. You were never bored. Working in a museum was actually a lot more unpredictable than you’d imagined, especially as a curator. Opportunities for new exhibits almost constantly popped up, and you frequently traveled all over to do research and negotiate which artworks would be coming back with you. Plus, the immense pride you felt when an exhibit came together and looked spectacular was something you couldn’t quite explain.

This Renoir exhibit was most definitely the pinnacle of your career so far. You’d traveled to New York, San Francisco, Paris, and London to build this little collection, and if the ticket sales and patron comments were any indications... it was a huge success.

But it was only the second day after opening, so you didn’t want to count your chickens before they hatched.

You were currently out on the gallery floor, observing and wanting to see if maybe the paintings could be arranged better or if the walls were too close together. You wanted all of the visitors to enjoy themselves, but you also didn’t want them touching or even brushing up against any of the pieces.

Things seemed to be going all right, and you had just finished whispering to a security guard to keep an eye on the lady with the huge purse... when someone caught your eye.

You weren’t sure if he’d caught your eye because he’d just been looking at you or if it was simply because he was eye-catching. Either way, you now found yourself studying him.

The way his dark hair hung just so, exposing his forehead. It was shaggy but not messy, and you could so clearly (you weren’t sure why) imagine running your fingers through it. His eyes were curious and sparkling, his lips full and pensive. The way he was focused on the paintings and whatever he was writing made you want to pick his brain. What was he thinking? What was he writing?

And then you noticed he glanced at you. You quickly looked away, glad he wasn’t able to know your heart had started to beat just a little bit faster.

But... why? Why was it beating faster?

You saw people at the museum every single day. What was so special or different about him?

The security guard standing near you shifted his stance, and it was just enough movement to pull you out of your own head. You blinked quickly, your head jerking the tiniest bit. 

Come on, you thought to yourself. No time to be daydreaming.

You were at work, after all, and you had to focus on the exhibit.

Not the really cute guy stealing glances at you.

When you left work that evening, you figured you would completely forget about whoever that guy was by the time you returned the next morning. You would go home, cook some dinner, watch some Netflix, do a face mask, get some sleep... and tomorrow morning, you would sit down at your desk and carry on with work as usual.

So, riddle me this.

It was tomorrow morning. Yesterday was officially behind you, and you were sitting in your comfortable office chair, replying to emails and still thinking about that guy. That dark-haired, wide-eyed, sweet-faced guy. You almost wished there was a plausible way to figure out his name, but you knew that was toeing the line of being a stalker.

Besides. If he enjoyed the exhibit as much as he seemed to, judging by all the notes he’d scribbled down, he would probably be back.

You let out a huff of a sigh, blowing your hair out of your face and attempting to blow thoughts of this mystery guy out of your head. You’d never let any guy distract you from your work before; you would most certainly not be starting today.

He was here again.

That really cute guy.

It was the third time in two weeks, so you really had to wonder if he was here to admire the Renoir exhibit or if he was here to admire… something else.

Or someone else?

Maybe it was because, despite your efforts, you had been thinking about him for the better part of those two weeks which made you hope he was in the same situation.

Because... you’d asked around. You hadn’t tried to look through the system for his name attached to a ticket, but you’d asked a couple security guards and tour guides if they’d noticed him. If he’d come any other times when you weren’t there.

One security guard, a buff, young man who secretly loved gossip, informed you he, too, had noticed the guy. But he’d only seen him here the three times, just like you had.

So. He only came during your shifts, as far as you knew. Interesting.

Whether or not that was a coincidence…

Well, you wanted to find out. You couldn’t keep your curiosity at bay any longer.

Even though talking to the museum patrons was nowhere to be found in your job description, you walked up to him and cleared your throat gently.

“Hi, can I help you with anything?” you asked, smiling politely.

He smiled back at you, though his smile was a lot brighter and more beaming than yours. It kind of made your heart skip a beat if you were being honest.

Damn, he’s got a perfect set of teeth.

“I actually have a lot of questions about the new exhibit,” he told you with a soft, somewhat timid laugh, breaking through your super random thought about his teeth.

“Oh?” you breathed. “Well… I’m the curator, I can tell you anything you need to know.”

“Really?” He looked surprised (and incredibly adorable), so you nodded.

“Really,” you smirked. And then you held your hand out and introduced yourself.

“Youngjae,” he replied as he shook your hand. 

“Shall we?” You held your arm out, gesturing toward the rest of the exhibit.

The two of you began slowly strolling through the gallery, stopping at each piece for however long it took you to answer Youngjae’s questions. He had a lot, which was not surprising, but you easily supplied all the answers.

“You really know which questions to ask,” you pointed out as you stepped away from Dance at Bougival. 

Youngjae smiled bashfully, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Well, I’m an art student.”

“Are you?” Oh, god, if he was an art student, he was much too young for you, damn it--

“I’m getting my Master’s in Art History,” he continued, much to your relief. Like, literally, you almost let out an audible sigh because thank the lord. A graduate student, not an undergraduate student. “I’m actually in my last semester, writing my thesis on Impressionism.”

“Aha,” you chuckled. “That would explain why you’re here.”

He nodded, and you could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks flush a little.

“You know,” you began, stopping in front of Dance in the City. “I have to admit. I’ve… noticed this isn’t your first time here.”

Youngjae blushed a little, his smile growing ever wider and even more bashful. “Yeah, I just – it’s for my thesis, and I wanted to –”

Everything about his expression and his body language (he was currently gently kicking the ground and slightly avoiding eye contact with you and drumming his fingers against his jeans) told you he hadn’t come here just for the art.

So you had to assume he’d felt that same strange, intangible pull you’d felt toward him.

“I’m not a tour guide or anything,” you interrupted. “But I know just about all there is to know about Renoir and a few other Impressionist painters. I would be happy to... maybe sit down and go through your thesis with you? If you’re having trouble with it.”

Youngjae’s head snapped up, his eyebrows raised halfway up his forehead as he looked at you with surprise. “You -- really?”

“Absolutely. I was a grad student once myself, not too long ago. And I’ve just spent the last couple months putting this exhibit together. My brain is in full-on Impressionism mode,” you told him with a chuckle. “I can give you my email?”

Because, to be quite honest, giving your phone number to a museum guest - and one you’d just met - was a little crazy. Right?

...Right?

You were probably overthinking the situation, but whatever.

“Oh -- oh, sure,” Youngjae nodded. He flipped to an empty page in his notebook, turning it toward you and handing you his pen.

You quickly jotted down your email, a soft smile pulling at your lips as you wondered if anything would even come of this. Maybe your assumption was totally off-base, and he really was just here for the art. 

But he at least had your email address now. If you heard from him, great. If you didn’t, you would get over it. I mean, there was really nothing to get over at this point. You’d never been one to dwell on the past, anyway, so you were used to taking these small kinds of risks.

“You’re sure about this?” Youngjae asked when you gave him his pen back.

“Very. I love talking about art,” you assured him. “It would be selfish of me to keep all this knowledge to myself!”

A quiet laugh escaped Youngjae’s lips, and even though it was quiet, it was enough to melt your heart. You instantly wanted to hear him laugh fully. A loud, robust laugh. In fact, you wanted to make him laugh.

(You were almost second-guessing your own thoughts about being fine with him never contacting you...)

You were just about to start talking about Dance in the City, but you saw a flurry of movement out of the corner of your eye. Your brow furrowed as your gaze shifted, seeing your boss standing nearby and waving you over.

“Excuse me,” you murmured to Youngjae before slipping away and hurrying over.

“What are you doing?” your boss asked with a curious chuckle.

“Oh, I just -- he’s an art student, I was offering to help --” You realized he probably didn’t even really care, so you cut yourself off. “What’s going on?”

“Did you forget about lunch?”

...Yes. Yes, you had. You remembered now that your boss had announced a celebratory lunch for you and the staff members who’d helped you with the exhibit. He was taking you all to a nearby four-star restaurant, and you would surely get a little too tipsy from all the wine you’d drink. But if your boss was paying for it, could you really refuse?

You spared a glance back at Youngjae, but he was too busy studying the painting to notice your gaze on him.

I mean... you’d talked to him. You’d given him a way to contact you. Sure, you would like to continue talking to him, but there was no way you would choose a guy you’d just met over free lunch courtesy of your boss.

So you simply shifted your eyes back to your boss, smiled softly, and nodded.

“Lunch, of course. Lead the way, sir!”

You’d thought Youngjae hadn’t been paying attention when you’d glanced back at him. And he’d done a good job of looking like he was studying the painting.

But he’d been watching you out of the corner of his eye.

Not watching in a creepy way, of course. Just... watching. Waiting to see what was going to happen.

He was, as you can imagine, a bit disappointed when you left. He wasn’t expecting you to come and say good-bye to him or anything, but... still. He’d been having an excellent time asking you questions, actually getting to talk to you.

But he had your email, at least. And if you thought, for some reason, he wasn’t going to contact you... oh, how wrong you were.

Youngjae slid his backpack around so he could slip his notebook inside and enjoy the rest of the exhibit (though his mind was a bit distracted, thinking through the fairly long encounter he’d just had with the magnetic curator he’d been daydreaming about for days now).

About an hour later, Youngjae was making his way out of the museum. He’d skipped yet another French class for this, so he felt like he needed to go to his professor’s office and ask if there was any extra credit work he could do to make up for the time he’d missed.

When he passed the front desk, though, a sign caught his eye. Just like he had a couple of weeks ago when another sign caught his eye, he stopped walking, his foot lifted up in mid-air. He took some steps backward. He read the sign again.

Interns wanted. Apply here if interested.

Part 3

[iwroteinapastlife]

The Catacombs

Lila hates the catacombs. The dank basement of the library always smells like old books and dust and she doesn’t understand how anyone can like that smell.

If she hadn’t already exhausted all the other study spots on campus, she would never even step foot down here. But it seemed coffee shops were no longer going to work with her, and there was no way she’d ever be able to focus in her house while her roommates cried over The Bachelor.

Thus the circumstances that bring her down to the cramped little study rooms in the catacombs.

The midterm break is three days away, making it essay and exam season. The one time in the semester that study rooms are all taken up. She’s going to have to work some magic.

The room at the far end of the hall is the biggest one—which isn’t saying much. That’ll be her target.

Inside is some guy she’s never seen before. That’s not uncommon on such a big campus, but he looks just a bit too old to be a student. She might even think he’s a really really young professor with the stuffy jacket and dorky grandpa glasses he’s wearing.

With dark red hair pinned back out of the way of deep blue eyes, she thinks he could be cute if he had any sense of style. But as it is, he wears that stuffy professor jacket over a t-shirt of all things, along with some weird bug necklace and a tacky orange scarf to top it all off, like what even. On the table in front of him is a laptop, a to-go coffee cup, and some musty old books scattered about.

Everything about him screams geek. Should be a piece of cake.

She cracks the door open with her best innocent, saccharine smile. Adopting the sweetest, most gentle of voices, she asks if she can have the study room. “It’s just…I always use this room and I can’t focus anywhere else and I have a huge essay due tomorrow.”

He stares at her a moment, expression absolutely unreadable. Then suddenly,

“Are you a theatre major?”

…

“What?”

“I asked if you’re a theatre major.”

Lila blinks. Perhaps the most surprising thing here is the complete innocence in his question. His tone isn’t snarky or malicious in any way; he’s genuinely just asking.

“Um…No, why?”

“Oh.” He shrugs and turns back to his work. “You’re just really good at acting.”

She bristles. “Excuse me? Acting?”

He doesn’t look up. “Yeah I almost believed you despite the fact that I use this study room almost every day.” The way he says it is almost like he’s complimenting her. No aim to humiliate; he’s just stating the truth as he knows it. “And when I’m not using it, I’m down here in the catacombs.” He glances up for just a couple seconds to get a confirming look of her. “And I’ve never seen you before.”

Okay, time to switch tactics.

“Okay, so I don’t always use this study room. But I really can’t focus anywhere else and I desperately need to get this paper done.”

“And I do always use this room, know from experience that I can’t focus anywhere else, and also need to get work done.” He keeps typing as he speaks, completely nonchalant.

“Do you even go here? You look too old to be a student.”

“I’m 26 and I’m a grad student.” He finally looks up then with a tired expression. “Look I’m sorry but you’re distracting me. Can you please go away?”

“I’m sorry,” she rebukes, “but you’re keeping me from work. Can you please go away?”

He sighs. He seems about as done with this conversation as she is.

“If you promise to be quiet, you can sit at the other end of the table. There’s an outlet over there and everything.”

She rolls her eyes but acquiesces, guessing this is probably the best she’s going to get.

He really is quiet the entire time. He doesn’t listen to music or anything and he’s probably the most focused person she’s ever seen. It’s surprisingly easy to get work done around him; with how quiet he is aside from the very steady clicking of his keyboard, she can almost forget he’s even there. She makes surprising headway on her essay.

When she leaves, she doesn’t say anything and neither does he—still just typing away. She wonders if he even notices. She also wonders if he’s going to work through the night. The library closes at some point, right?

The next day he’s there again. He’s wearing a different t-shirt though and his scarf is a slightly different shade of orange, so he must have left eventually.

“I thought your paper was due today.”

“Different paper.” It’s not.

They agree to work in silence again. Her paper really is due tomorrow this time and she manages to finish it before some ridiculous hour of the night. This is some of the most productive work she’s ever done. There’s something very therapeutic about his keyboard clicking. And every time she starts burning out, she just looks up and watches him in his intense focus for a couple minutes. It works really well to keep her going somehow.

His coffee cup goes untouched. She’s pretty sure it’s empty. He really ought to drink some water or something.

“Another paper?” he asks when she shows up the next day. He’s on to her.

“This time I’m studying for an exam.” It’s actually the truth for once. She doesn’t even bother asking if she can share the room this time; she just walks in and drops her textbook on the table. “Not that it’s inconceivable to have three papers. I once had six all due on the same day.” It was five and they were spread across two days.

He looks at her with mild confusion for a second before he shrugs and looks back at his laptop. “Fair enough.” Then it’s silence and therapeutic clicking again.

The next day she thinks there’s no way he’s there. It’s officially break. Most of the school is gone. She’s just one of the few who prefers to stay on campus.

She thinks maybe she’s right when she shows up early in the morning and he isn’t there.

Then he arrives a few minutes later. His hair is wet from a shower and he’s actually drinking from the coffee cup in his hand. He looks confused.

“You’re still here?”

“I could say the same about you.”

“I actually live in the area, what’s your excuse?”

“I don’t like going home.”

The grunt he makes sounds slightly sympathetic. “I can understand that.” He sits down and stays getting his stuff out. “If you’re done with midterms though, why are you here?”

“I have a big paper due right after break.”

“What subject?”

This is the most talkative he’s ever been. She doesn’t mind it exactly; it’s just different.

“Politics.” He just sort of nods and doesn’t really respond. “What about you? What are you working on?”

“My thesis.”

“For what?”

“Archaeology.”

Wow that makes sense. His outfit screams fossils.

Again they work in silence. She notices that he only eats a granola bar around lunch time while she brought herself a sandwich. And as she suspected, it’s just the one cup of coffee and nothing else all day.

The next day she gets there before him again. And again it’s just a cup of coffee and a granola bar.

The day after that, she thinks she might have caught a hint of a smile on his lips when he walks in, though she can’t be sure.

“You beat me again.”

“What, like it’s some sort of race?” He just gives her a quizzical look. It totally is.

They don’t say much else, just get to work. She eats a salad for lunch that day. He has a cup of coffee and a granola bar.

And the same the next day.

The day after that, when she’s getting out her lunch,

“Hey, catch.”

He looks up just in time to catch the orange she tosses him. “What…?”

“You’ve just been eating a granola bar every day. Eat something real for once.”

“I eat real food when I’m at home.”

“And how often are you at home?”

…

He doesn’t say anything else, just accepts the orange. Then she rolls a bottle of water across the table. He opens his mouth as if to object, but fizzles the second she meets his gaze.

The next day he shows up with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“I took a guess and got you a caramel macchiato.” He looks extremely nervous and awkward as he holds it out to her with a rigid arm.

She takes it. “Thanks. That’s my favorite.” The look on his face says that he knows she’s lying. She wonders what her tell is that he’s picking up on.

“Um…” He scratches the back of his head. He’s still standing there awkwardly. “What’s your name?”

Oh. Oh. They never exchanged names. She realizes she doesn’t know his either.

“Lila. You?”

“Jalil.” He looks really relieved when they shake hands. “Nice to meet you, Lila.”

There’s only a week left of break but pretty much every day goes like that. Jalil brings her coffee in the morning and she gives him some actual food for lunch. And they share comfortable silence and get work done.

Lila finishes her essay with two days to spare. As she’s packing up her stuff that day,

“So do you just live in the library?”

“Basically,” he shrugs. “When working on a doctoral thesis, it’s much more convenient to—,”

“Wait, a doctoral thesis!?”

He pauses, nervous. “Yeah…?”

“Didn’t you say you’re 26?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“How are you already getting a doctorate!?”

“I just take a lot of classes,” he responds, shoulders hunched.

Wow. She didn’t know someone could be so much of a nerd that it actually impressed her.

“So are you going to be done after this semester?”

“Not by a long shot. I’m aiming to finish in the spring.” Same for her, except with her bachelor’s.

She smiles, and tries to ignore the relief she feels knowing that he’s going to be around another semester. “Cool.”

The next few weeks go by far too fast. When classes start up again, she finds a rhythm of heading to the library after dinner every night and staying until around 11. Jalil is there without fail every single time. And every time she enters the room, he greets her with a small smile.

Even if she isn’t there for lunch, she still brings him fruit to eat. She’s about 80% sure he isn’t eating healthy—or at all—throughout the day.

As finals approach, she starts staying later.

“Hey, you’re not going to take advantage of the library being open 24 hours for finals are you?” she asks one day.

Jalil looks up from his laptop with pursed lips.

“…No.”

“I’m way better at lying than you are.”

The first night of finals week though, she ends up staying there with him through the night. This research paper has been an absolute thorn in her side and she’s determined to finish it that day so she can actually spend time studying for her other finals.

Jalil gets up around midnight and says he’ll be right back. She figures he’s going to the restroom or something. When he returns though, he has two cups of coffee and a bag of pastries from the library café.

She smiles when he hands her the drink. “Thanks.” By now he knows that her favorite is raspberry mocha.

When Lila finally finishes her paper it’s about 5 am.

“Okay,” she says as she shuts her laptop. Jalil looks up at her. How can he look as awake as he always does when she feels like death? Does he just never sleep?

“Did you do it?” She nods. He smiles. “Nice.”

She pauses to smile back. She’s so tired and worn down and something about his smile just feels like the warm blanket that she needs right about now.

She slips her bag over her shoulder and points at him accusingly. “Go home soon, okay?”

His smile widens and it’s…gosh, it’s warm. “I will.”

“Goodnight, Jalil.”

“Good morning, Lila.”

Her internal clock is all fucked up the next day. When she wakes up the sun is setting. Her breakfast is dinner and she feels like her day is just beginning when she goes down to the catacombs.

“Question,” she says as she walks in. She drops a stack of heavy text books on the table. “How the hell do you get up for an 8 am final when you spend all night in the library and mess up your sleep schedule?”

He chuckles. “I force myself to stay awake the whole day and then go to bed around 6 pm.”

She stares blankly at him. “That sounds awful.”

“It is.”

He says it with a smile though and it’s far too charming for her to dread the long night ahead.

She moves to sit adjacent to him halfway through the night when she gets out some apple slices and peanut butter to share.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. He seems even more consumed in his work than usual. He’s been glaring at the screen with a slight frown for a while.

“Something wrong?”

“I can’t find this source in any of the languages I read.”

“What language is it in?” she asks, leaning over to look at his screen.

“Italian.”

“Oh, I can help you.”

He pauses and turns to her with a skeptical eyebrow raised. “You read Italian?”

She nods. “It’s my first language.”

He narrows his gaze, scrutinizing her features. “Are you lying to me again?”

She rolls her eyes. “No.” Then she scoots her chair closer and focuses on his laptop. “Show me.”

The article isn’t too long, but it takes them hours to get through it because she keeps stopping to ask him questions. He doesn’t seem bothered though. She learns that his thesis is focused on comparing ancient mythologies across the world, noting patterns and drawing connections. It’s far from the most interesting thing in the world for her, but it’s oddly engaging when he talks about it. He’s so intimately familiar with the material that when he describes it, he speaks more like a narrative storyteller than some dry archaeologist.

It’s…really cute.

She knows her sleep schedule is really fucked when 6 am rolls around and she isn’t even tired. She’s done studying for the night though. She’s gone over her notes enough times she can practically recite them. She’s completed all her study guides and double checked every answer. She even did all the review questions in her text books. She’ll take some time to go over everything again before each exam, but she’s pretty much set for the rest of finals.

“How much longer do you plan on staying here?” she asks. Jalil checks his watch. “I dunno. I’m not really tired, but I should probably eat soon.”

She thinks for a moment, just watching him go over the notes he took from her translation.

“Want to go get breakfast with me?”

She watches as his eyes still on the page. He blinks a few times before turning to look at her. “What?”

“Breakfast. You know, one of those actual meals that people who don’t live in libraries eat? There’s a place down the street that makes some of the best crepes I’ve ever tasted.” And that is most certainly not a lie.

He keeps blinking at her, evidently surprised by her words, and a bit of pink rises to his cheeks. “I…um…okay.”

It’s not until they’re walking down the street that she realizes he’s taller than her. The guy is all leg, so sitting in the chair across the table, she couldn’t really tell. Even if she’d seen him standing a few times, she’d never actually stood next to him. It’s weird.

Conversation carries between them naturally as she asks more questions about his research. He’s awkward at first—admittedly, it does feel really weird to interact with him outside of the library—but he’s quickly put at ease talking about his work. She can hear his passion in his voice and see it in the way he waves his arms animatedly while speaking. She never knew someone could get so hyped up over archaeology but she supposes he would have to love it to pursue a doctorate in it.

“So why archaeology?” She asks when they receive their food.

“My father’s an archaeologist, so I got interested in it at a young age.”

Perhaps if she were paying more attention she might have noticed the way his smile faded then. But as it is, she’s mostly focused on her food and goes on, oblivious.

“Oh that’s cool. You two must have a lot to talk about then.”

“Um…no.”

She looks up when she hears the tenseness in his voice. Though he picks up his fork to start eating as normal, she doesn’t miss the hard look in his eyes or the way his jaw is set.

“Touchy subject?”

He presses his lips together and looks up with a shrug. “Yeah, a little bit.”

She nods and goes back to her food. “I get that. There’s a reason I don’t go home for breaks. So what other languages do you know?” She doesn’t miss the way his expression eases after that.

It takes five cups of coffee strategically spaced throughout the day and her friends keeping her constantly engaged in conversation, but Lila manages to stay awake until 6. When she finally lays down that night, it’s the deepest sleep she’s had in years.

She wakes up at the crack of dawn feeling mildly refreshed but also strangely out of it. Her shower helps, but she’s glad she doesn’t have her first exam until tomorrow so she can have a day to adjust.

When she makes her way down to the catacombs, she finds herself smiling as she breathes in the scent of old books. When did she start liking that smell?

In the study room she finds Jalil…asleep. Completely passed out with his head in a dusty book and his computer dormant in front of him. Worried and amused—mostly amused—she approaches and gently shakes his shoulder.

He sighs out a delicate hum—the sound of it sweet and oddly soothing. She takes a seat on the table in front of him.

“Jalil, wake up. You’ve been in a coma for three years.”

He opens his eyes and glares at her, brow furrowed in confusion. Then he sits up and puts on his glasses. “You’re lying,” he says in a relieved sigh as he realizes who she is.

“Yeah, that one I’ll admit to,” she smiles playfully. As he stands up and stretches sore muscles, she notices his hair is even messier than usual. The part on top that he keeps pinned back is all loose and frizzy.

“What?” he asks when he notices her eyeing him.

“Come here,” she says, reaching out toward his head. The table is just the right height that he only has to dip his head the slightest bit for her to reach. He looks confused, but he doesn’t question it as she pulls the bobby pins out. His hair is so course that it mostly stays back, but it springs up from his head making him look like a mad scientist. She giggles lightly at the sights and sticks the pins between her teeth. Then she combs her fingers through his hair and pins it back in place.

It isn’t until she sits back again that she notices the way he’s looking at her.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

That look has her heart skipping.

“It…um…it would have bothered me.” She glances around, forcing herself to pull her gaze from those eyes. “So why were you passed out in here? Did you not go home and sleep yesterday?”

When she looks at him again, his lips are pursed in that way he does when he doesn’t want to admit something. “I…went home and showered. And then came back.”

“Jalil.”

He looks away and scratches the back of his head with a nervous smile. “I knew you were probably going to come back in the morning and I didn’t want to leave you here alone.”

Warmth prickles through her chest, but she tries not to let it show.

“It’s okay to leave me here alone.”

Those perceptive eyes zero in on her, but she stays strong. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs. “It’s not like it matters if you’re here or not.” A knowing smile comes to his lips. “What?”

“You’re lying.”

“What? No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are.”

She rolls her eyes. “Okay so I like your presence, that doesn’t mean anything.” His smile widens more as his gaze darts back and forth between her eyes. “What?”

He doesn’t answer her. He just smiles and the next thing she knows, a warm hand cups her jaw, fingers threading through the hair at the base of her neck. He leans in slowly, giving her time to react.

Her only reaction is to tilt her head to meet his.

His kiss is gentle, sweet, and combined with the fuzziness from her lack of sleep, it renders her absolutely breathless.

When he parts from her, he’s still wearing that grin, only it’s even wider now.

“Liar.”

[secret-captain-swan-blog]

Castle on the Hill

English Literature PhD student Emma Swan just needs money to pay for her last semester of grad school tuition. Killian Jones has always dreamed of opening a bookshop but has never been able to afford it. So when the small principality of Misthaven is looking for their lost princess, the pair decide that this might just be the perfect money making scheme.

A Multi-chapter Modern Day + Lost Princess (think Rapunzel/Anastasia-esque) + Book Lovers in a Coffee Shop AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 80956/ ?

Prologue (Part 1 + 2) // Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8 // Ch 9 // Ch 10 // Ch 11 // Ch 12 // Ch 13 // Ch 14

Read on: Ao3

“Emma, I’ve never seen you like that with a boy before,” Belle announces as Emma enters her hotel room.

Emma tugs off her ankle boots and leaves them at the door. She hangs her coat on the back of the door, before heading over to the two twin beds pushed together in the center of the hotel room.

“Never seen me like what?” Emma asks, flopping onto one of the beds.

Belle sits beside her, giving her an incredulous look.

“I’ve seen you a little bit tipsy taking a guy back after the English Department Christmas party and I’ve seen you kicking him out before breakfast the next morning,” Belle tells her.

Emma takes the giant duvet on the bed and pulls it over her head. She can see where this is going.

“But I’ve never seen you actively in love,” Belle declares. “And I really like it.”

“I’m not in love,” Emma grumbles beneath the duvet.

“In ‘passionate like’ then?” Belle suggests.

“Okay, that was dumb, I’m in love,” Emma admits.

“I can tell,” Belle says.

Emma is starting to suffocate under the duvet, so she pops her head out.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Emma says. “Or if this is even something worth doing.”

“What do you mean ‘something worth doing?’ You’re in love,” Belle urges.

“But that doesn’t mean I need to act on it?” Emma questions. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot.”

“Oh no, not thinking,” Belle remarks. “Never good when it comes to love.”

Emma shoots her a look, “I’ve never been able to see myself in a relationship with anyone, but I can with Killian. Sometimes it feels like we are already there- he’s slept in my bed every night this week. I just kissed him again.”

“Okay, so you are definitely already there,” Belle tells her. “I’m sensing there is a ‘but’ coming up.”

“But,” Emma says, “I’m leaving in less than two months. Neither of us can afford a long-distance relationship. Unless I somehow become Princess of Misthaven, I doubt that we have any future.”

“That’s quite pessimistic,” Belle says.

“No, it’s self-preservation,” Emma shoots. “Having my heart broken isn’t going to help anybody. Killian doesn’t need that either. He gets it. We’ve both had nothing before. We’ve both done what it takes to survive. He understands. This is just another way of doing this.”

“Emma,” Belle says, “That’s exactly why you should do it. When you are going to stop surviving and start living?”

Emma sits up a feeling akin to betrayal rips through her. It’s the kind of privileged shit that classmates have told her her whole life. “If you really believe in your dreams, they’ll come true.” Or “don’t live life on the sidelines.” Stuff that easy to say when you have money and connections. Fortunately, Emma has always known that it was hard work and luck that actually took you places, and she’s positive it’s the only reason she’s made it this long.

“That’s pretty rich for you to say, Belle. You know that I haven’t had the opportunity to. You know what I’ve been through. Life isn’t always a Jane Austen novel or marriage plot. There is reality and it sucks or whatever, but it’s real.”

Belle sighs. “I’m sorry, Emma. I didn’t want to get in an argument with you. I truly didn’t. But just think about it. In six months, you’ll defend your thesis, you’ll get a PhD. And then what?”

“And then I’ll be trying to find a post-doc, trying to find a position somewhere, trying not to end up on the streets. Trying to survive again,” Emma tells her.

“But what if you start looking for positions here?” Belle suggests. “You could start interviewing in Misthaven. Brussels, Bruges, maybe even Lille. You could be close to Killian, close your BFF the Queen of Misthaven.”

“Ugh, don’t mention her,” Emma laments.

“Wait, what happened to you equestrian and opera partner?” Belle asks, miming a Misthaven accent.

“She kept a massive secret from me,” Emma says. “And I’m not really sure if I can forgive her for it. See, this is why it’s better if I just leave.”

“And leave behind the only man you’ve ever loved?” Belle asks.

Emma groans and buries her face in the bed, making some sort of grunting noise that sounds like “blurg.” She props her head up on a fist, looking up at Belle.

“Fine, okay, tell me about your romantic life,” Emma says.

Belle brushes a hand through her hair, leaning back against the headboard.

“Okay, so, do you remember that guy who you swapped apartments with?” Belle prefaces.

Emma thinks back her Skype session months ago with the bio PhD she was swapping with. The guy was drunk at like 4PM in afternoon. She had written him off as a hot mess, but then again, his apartment had been surprising- all white and neat with living houseplants and stuff.

“Yeah,” Emma replies. “Will, right?”

“Exactly,” Belle says. “Will Scarlet.”

“The drunk guy?” Emma asks.

“Well, that’s what I thought at first too,” Her friend babbles. “But then, well, I don’t know. We got to talking. Like, he came home one night really stressed about his research and so we started talking about it. And his research is actually pretty interesting. Then he asked about mine and somehow we ended up spending half the night talking. Then later that week he took me out for a proper date- nice dinner and everything. And then we slept together and that basically sealed the deal. We’ve been dating since September.”

“Belle!” Emma cries. “That’s amazing.”

She scoots over to give her friend a hug.

“I know, I know,” Belle says. “Look at us American girls falling for Misthaven men.”

Emma sighs and sits ups, pulling the duvet around herself.

“Do you see why I feel so strongly about you and Killian?” Belle says. “Will has made me so happy and we’ve been willing to take a risk. Yes, it’ll be long distance once he moves back and yes, we’ll have to find a way to make it work. But that’s love. And if you and Killian are in love, you’ll find a way to make it work too.”

“Ugh, I’ll think about it,” Emma laments. She closes her eyes and lets the duvet fall from her shoulders. “No, I’m serious. I will. I have a few days without Killian and I think that will help me get a perspective over this situation. You are right, Belle. He is the first guy I’ve ever been really in love with. I’ve just never been the kind of person who prioritized that.”

“You were also not the kind of person who manipulates monarchs of foreign countries into thinking you are their daughter,” Belle points out.

“Don’t remind me,” Emma says, flopping back on the bed. “Can we go get dinner now?”

“It’s only like 5pm,” Belle says.

“So? I’m hungry,” Emma whines. “And we both know that it’s going to take you a minimum of a half an hour to get ready no matter where we go.”

“That’s true,” Belle acknowledges. “I’ll go do make-up and you can Google places to eat?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Emma agrees.

“I’m so glad you are here,” Belle tells her, getting up from the bed. “Everything is truly better with your best friend around.”

Emma sits up again, leaning against the headboard. “It absolutely is.”

The next morning Belle has research she needs to do at the Kings College library, so Emma uses the excuse to spend some time playing tourist around London. She shows up for a free walking tour, which takes her wandering around the main sights. She happily snaps away pictures of the landmarks. She was lucky to see the literary side of London yesterday, but today is all about checking off all the touristy boxes: Hyde Park, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace.

When the tour ends in Trafalgar Square, she heads to the National Portrait Gallery, enjoying seeing portraits of some of her favorite writers and characters from history. Afterwards, she stops for a coffee at a cafe across the street from the gallery. She uses it as an opportunity to read more of one of the books that she bought from Daunt Books the day before. The cappuccino has such a silky texture and Emma spends almost an hour reading at the café.

Afterwards, she starts making her way over to Kings. She stops in Covent Garden, wandering through the marketplace and looking at the different street performers. On a whim, she walks into the Box Office for the Royal Opera House and enquires about tickets. The clerk lets her know that there are a few tickets available a ballet tonight. The tickets are nosebleed, but just a few pounds, so she buys them.

Following the map on her phone, she heads down towards Embankment and Somerset House. She realizes she still has a bit of time before she has to meet Belle and it’s getting cold. So she ducks into the Courtauld Gallery. She uses her student ID to get a free ticket and wanders through the paintings. They are all so dreamy and whimsical. As she sits before a painting, she feels the stress of everything drift away. She isn’t trying to figure out if she needs to forgive a monarch. Or declare her love for Killian. She’s just part of this gallery. Maybe Killian was right about her needing a vacation.

But her phone vibrates from a text with a Belle.

Meet me in the café at Somerset House? We can get coffee and talk about the day xo

Emma reluctantly moves from her spot in the gallery to find the café where Belle is.

“How was your big day in London?” Belle asks when Emma arrives in the café.

Belle already has a large cappuccino waiting for her.

“Good,” Emma says, recounting the different places she visited as she crossed the city. She takes out her phone to show Belle the cheesy selfies she took in front of Buckingham Palace and Big Ben.

“That looks like a packed day,” Belle remarks.

“So exhausting. But I got tickets for the ballet tonight, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Ticket for the ballet tonight, hope you don’t mind,” Parrots Belle, in her horrible Misthaven accent. “Sure you’re not already the Princess of Misthaven?”

Emma rolls her eyes, “No, they were cheap and I thought it might be a fun thing to do.”

“But you still went up to a Box Office and asked for a ticket,” Belle teases. “You still thought, ‘Hmm, I wonder if there are any seat available for the ballet tonight.’”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs, ducking her head to take a sip of cappuccino.

“Okay, but has today helped you process what you are going to do about Killian?” Belle asks.

Emma pushes her hair out of her face and shrugs. “I think it’s helped me more to forget about it. I’ve had a lot weighing on me recently and it’s been good to just relax for a moment.”

“That’s good too,” Belle says. “And I bet the ballet will help even more.”

“True,” Emma agrees.

“Speaking of,” Belle remarks, “We should head to the hotel if we want to change and get dinner before the show.”

“Oh my god, calm down and let me finish this cappuccino,” Emma complains.

“What does someone even wear to the ballet?” Belle wonders.

“Just like a dress or a skirt of something,” Emma says. “You are always well dressed anyway; You’ll be fine.”

“That is true,” Belle acknowledges.

Emma takes another sip of her cappuccino.

“Okay, well, I didn’t fly all the way to England to not hear about marriage plots,” Emma teases. “So how did today go? What did you find in the libraries?”

“Oh Emma. Let me tell you,” Belle says, before launching into a summary of the day’s research.

It’s just after seven when Emma and Belle emerge well dressed and fed from the Holborn tube station. It’s just a short walk through the twilight streets till they reach the Royal Opera House. The outside is beautiful, all white columns and complete with a glass dome in another part.

The inside is just as gorgeous, but selfishly Emma doesn’t think it’s as pretty the Misthaven Opera House. There is less open space, it’s more parceled off into little bits here and there.

An usher directs them to a flight of stairs that they take up to their seats. It’s the nose bleeds. It’s actually past the nosebleed, seats that hang over the side of the theater, shoved in a corner. It’s a far cry from box seats at the Misthaven Opera. But if you lean the right way, it makes for a decent enough view.

Emma flips through her program.

“Have you seen this ballet before?” Belle asks.

It’s called Giselle and Emma shakes her head to indicate that she hasn’t.

“Do you know what it is about?” Her friend asks.

“I think something to do with ghosts,” Emma guesses, looking at the tagline, “Ballet’s Greatest Ghost Story.”

“There’s a description of the plot inside this program,” Belle says.

“I try not to read those,” Emma tells her. “I like to be surprised.”

The music in the orchestra begins and the lights lower. Emma gets that rush of anticipation she feels each time a performance at the opera is about to start. The curtain lifts and the show begins.

This one is about a peasant girl who falls in love with a man. But it turns out that man betrayed her and he is actually married to another girl. Giselle goes nuts at the betrayal and kills herself.

Belle and Emma go get ice cream during intermission. There is a rooftop terrace that they eat it on. It’s a little chilly, but they can see the whole city and it feel special.

“See,” Emma says, “This is why you can’t trust men. They say they love you and then they betray you. And what happens to you? You become a crazy, suicidal mess.”

“This is a ballet, not real life,” Belle points out.

“So? Life is all stories,” Emma retorts.

“There is a whole other act,” Belle tells her. “I don’t think it means that men suck and it’s not worth falling in love.”

“I think it does,” Emma says.

As they walk back to their seat, she thinks of Quinn from the group home, in jail for getting involved with the wrong guy. She thinks of Belle, coming back from that date with a black eye. Boys aren’t worth it. They just mess up your life and it takes forever to move on.

She knows that Killian wouldn’t do that. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t dump her, or decide that the distance makes things to hard, or maybe make out with a cute girl who comes into the pub one night because Emma is far away and he’s so alone. Killian would never purposely harm her, but that doesn’t mean he can’t hurt her.

In the second act, the dick face guy goes to visit her in her ghost form. Her evil ghost girl gang decide to kill him, unless he can keep dancing all night. But he does, they work together and risk everything and keep dancing and finally say a goodbye.

And Emma’s crying. The sadness of seeing their goodbye, the bittersweet happiness of their reunion. It all washes over her and she feels something.

She feels like she wishes she had someone that loved her that much that they would risk death to just make things right with her. She wishes she had a great romance that defied every obstacle.

Emma knows, she totally knows, as she walks out of the theater, that Killian would give her that. Killian would give her everything.

It’s honestly silly to think about him hurting her, because she’s never met anyone as devoted, as patient, as kind, as Killian Jones. It’s silly to think he would put her in danger because she knows he would do everything for her.

Maybe it’s some weird post-performance afterglow, but Emma wants Killian. If he asked her to “go steady” or “be his girlfriend” or whatever people say these days, if he asked her right now- she would say yes.

“I take back what I said earlier,” Emma says, as they bump around on the Tube, 15 minutes later.

“What?” Belle asks.

“I think I should say yes to Killian,” Emma says. “I think we can do it. I think I can do it.”

“You don’t see him for a day, you’ve got some time to make up your mind,” Belle tells her.

“No, I’m certain now,” Emma says.

“Wait to tell him in person,” Belle says.

“I will,” Emma agrees.

“The next stop is Paddington Station. Please mind the gap between the train and the platform,” the voice announces.

The girls make for the platform, getting lost in the hustle and bustle of the station. All Emma can think of is getting back to the hotel and the free Wi-Fi, because she needs to text Killian and hear about his day. Because it’s just been a day and he’s still the only thing on her mind.

It’s cold when they burst out of the station and they quickly walk the last few blocks to their hotel. Once inside, Emma immediately goes to shower and change into pajamas. She brushes her teeth and pulls her wet hair into a braid, before giving the bathroom to Belle.

Climbing in bed and snuggling under the fluffy duvet, she connects to the Wi-Fi. She immediately switches to the messaging app to text Killian.

How was today? She writes

She waits a minute, impatient as the little dots bounce around the screen, showing that he is typing back.

Good, He replies. I got settled today and talked to the people at social services about the logistics of the adoption, especially since Alice would move to Misthaven with me.

Do you take the test tomorrow? Emma replies.

Yes. God Emma, I can’t wait to find out if she’s mine, He writes back.

Emma smiles to herself. She thinks that Killian will make a great father. She can just see it. Killian taking Alice to the library, reading books together. Killian playing with her in the park. Killian taking her to Mamie’s for a hot chocolate and croissant. She can picture the way the little girl’s face would bloom with happiness with each interaction.

You’ll be great, Emma writes.

She wishes she was with him. She wants to sooth him, rub her thumbs over his temples, through is hair, as his eyes would flutter close. When he was finally serene, she’s press a kiss to the tip of his nose, then his lips. He’d smile at her touch, before returning it.

Thanks, love, he types. I’ve got an early morning, so I’m off to bed. See you soon.

Good night, Killian xo, she writes back.

Smiling to herself, she snuggles down beneath the duvet and lets herself float off to bed.

The next morning Belle is doing to research at the library in the Victoria and Albert Museum. Emma takes it as an excuse to visit. She doesn’t think she’ll like it, but she’s totally pulled in to looking at the gorgeous old dresses and curious old statues. She finds Belle a few hours later in the lovely library. It’s got green-blue walls, bright windows, and dark wood accents. Emma takes a few pictures to post online. She considering starting an Instagram just for libraries as she’s seen so many excellent libraries recently.

Emma sits across from Belle and reads more her newest novel for another hour while Belle finishes up her research. They head downstairs to the tearoom for lunch. It’s gorgeous, with stain glass windows and giant, spherical chandeliers. They get large cappuccinos and salads.

“So how are you going to tell him?” Belle asks.

It pulls Emma out of her dreamy coffee-and-books daze.

“Hmm?”

“How are you going to tell Killian yes?” Belle asks.

“Oh that,” Emma replies.

She’s made up her mind. She knows that. She can’t go back and forth. She’s decided on Killian once and for all.

But that doesn’t mean she knows how to tell him.

“I don’t know, maybe just like tell him when we get home,” Emma says.

She can imagine them in bed together waking up and then she’ll just turn over in bed, kiss him, and say, “I’ve decided yes. If that’s okay with you.”

“That’s not bad,” Belle says.

“Why do you, Master of Marriage Plots, have any ideas?” Emma asks.

Belle stirs her cappuccino and bites her lip.

“Consider this, he’s getting off the train from finding out he’s going to be a father. And there she is, the other girl of his dream (you know, not his daughter), waiting on the platform for him and she just goes up and throws her arms around him and kisses and then declares her love for him,” Belle spills.

Emma rolls her eyes, “That’s so cheesy. You should really write, like, romance novels or something.”

“Okay, but is that not a decent idea for telling him that you are now an officially dating couple?” Belle poses.

“I suppose it is decent, but probably with less flinging,” Emma says. “I don’t really do that dramatic running and throwing thing.”

“Fair,” Belle says, “But tell him as soon as you can. So you won’t back out.”

“I won’t back out,” Emma protests.

Belle gives her a look.

“Okay, I could,” Emma acknowledges. “But I won’t.”

They both turn to their salads for a moment, chewing and silent.

Emma feels a bit of warmth in her heart knowing that she and Killian will be an actual thing. It’s like a happy little secret sitting in her heart.

“So, this is our last night together in London,” Belle says. “We should do something special.”

“I agree,” Emma says.

“I’ve got more research to do this afternoon,” Belle says. “So I’m putting you in charge of deciding something splendid to do.”

Emma gives a mock salute, “Aye aye.”

She spends the afternoon hopelessly wandering through Kensington trying to think up something that would be an adequate ending to her mini-vacation with Belle. She ends up back in the hotel googling ideas before deciding on a wine bar in the Shard.

It’s the perfect choice. The city sparkles below them as they sip wine and eat dessert. Though it’s insanely expensive for their graduate student stipends, the memories are worth it.

“I’m glad we did this,” Belle says.

“Me too,” Emma says, looking out at the Thames below them. “Honestly Belle, I’m always grateful for your friendship. This has been like a little oasis, given everything that’s been going on recently. It’s good to know that a life exists outside of my thesis and the queen and Misthaven.”

“Let me always be your oasis,” Belle says. “This was good for me too. I’m glad you know about Will now. And I’m glad I’ve met Killian.”

Emma smiles, sipping red wine, “I am too.”

“And I’m glad you are actually falling in love with someone,” Belle says, nudging her. “Emma Swan, I thought you never would. I didn’t know if you could. But I’m glad you’ve opened your heart. Everything is going to change because of it.”

“Honestly, I think we should call the sap police,” Emma groans. “I don’t think everything is going to change. But I’m happy too.”

That night Emma climbs into bed a bit too tired from the wine to text Killian. But she falls asleep thinking of him and what his lips will feel like on hers when he tells her the news about Alice and when she tells him the news about her heart.

It’s the next morning when Emma heads to the train station to meet him. She’s got her bags so they can head right to the airport from there.

Paddington Station is bustling with people. Emma feels a tingle of nerves in heart, but excitement too. She’s finally decided on her feelings. She’s going to have a boyfriend. Killian is going to be her boyfriend.

She’s nervous. She’s jubilant.

And she’s ready.

She’s finally, finally ready to let someone in.

She’s waiting at the gate for where his train comes in. She watches the different passengers coming off. There is a family with three kids. A business man in a suit. A couple looking like they’re off on a holiday.

And then he’s there, right before her.

His head is ducked and she just takes in his dark hair. He’s in a grey wool coat and her heart does a little swoop. She can’t wait for his blue eyes to meet hers.

But then they do and everything breaks.

She’s never seen him look so broken. Even from a few steps away, she can tell they are red-rimmed. He’s been crying.

Oh.

Tagging some pals: @sambethe @lenfaz @pocket-anon @the-corsair-and-her-quill@kmomof4@kiwistreetswan@princesseslikepirates @timeless-love-story@shady-swan-jones@katie-dub@1handedpiratewithadrinkingprob@midnightswans @hollyethecurious @hookswan25 @princesse-swan @captainpoe @onceuponaprincessworld