#this feels like something I’d come back to in later drafts and keep toning down a few pegs at a time

[emry-stars-art]

okay but what happens after andrew confirms that yes he has indeed been courting neil f o r e v e r? like what is neil's reaction 👁️👁️

@ myself: wow haha this got angsty

I know I’m in a fluffy mood but I needed to sit down and really think about this (mind maps and random thought association and all) and it is not great at first! Neil’s immediate reaction, I mean 😭

First, here’s Andrew’s side of the thing for your reading pleasure

And I don’t know how to write Abram’s pov in scene form because it’s so like. Heartbreaking insane in my head. Yes, first there’s 100% this thought process (that’s supposed to be slightly comical but became not that, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean for this to happen) thank you @jtl-fics for the comments I’ve screenshotted from this post:

Second: he begins to feel incredibly guilty that he’s taking this from someone that’s infinitely much more deserving, whoever that is, as long as it’s not him. He was ready for Andrew to find someone he actually deserves. Now he feels like he’s ‘tricked’ Andrew into developing feelings for him, like Abram is a persona that isn’t real enough for Andrew to fall for but he’s tricked him anyway.

Third: Abram is an extension of Andrew’s resources. He’s still an attack dog but one that’s been re-homed, allowed to be much less violent and treated with respect and care that he can accept even if it doesn’t always feel deserved. Abram keeps a dagger at his hip to protect himself, Andrew keeps Abram. When Andrew asks “not what,” it’s something like I’m not that, I’m not an option, I am not even close enough to touch. There is no Abram, there is nothing here for you to love. You can’t. But even if there isn’t, Abram doesn’t need to be a person in that way for Andrew to handle him, use him, however he wants to.

That’s when Abram calms down, I think. That’s something he knows. He’s repressed his own feelings for Andrew so deep that he’d take it, too, he really would let Andrew use him if he wanted to. And it would be the best thing that ever happened to him. He thinks if Andrew is so certain he wants Abram this way, he can be perfect. Abram can be perfect for him, he’s determined to be.

(But that’s a thought process that comes on so quickly and so fully that Abram’s brain actually does let go of his personhood again. This time, though, with no one telling him to attack, he tries instead to be whatever he thinks Andrew wants. So - compliant and receptive.

This is not what Andrew wants.)

But after Abram takes his time away, talking to both Allison and Katelyn about it (they’re both really helpful in their own distinct ways) he understands that Andrew really meant it - he wants Abram as a person that he’s able to have, he wants Abram’s personality and his words and the parts of him he can’t control. Maybe Abram doesn’t even fully realize the scope of his own feelings before accepting the courtship, this time with a clear head and almost shaking with nerves but with a different kind of certainty that Andrew actually does accept. It takes a long time and a lot of assurance but Andrew is patient, until Abram will return gifts and gestures of affection. It actually does so so much to help Abram reclaim his humanity, seeing newly familiar behaviors directed at him with real intention.

Thank you for the ask, this was a point I felt was important to figure out for a while and this prompted me to get around to it! Probably not what you imagined but i uhhh. Sorry 🤧

(Curious? Find a small masterpost of this royal au here 💕)

[wordsnstuff]

Guide to Drafting

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Planning v. Discovery

The first thing you must decide when you embark on the journey of drafting a story is how you’re going to get it done. Typically, there are two groups you can fit into, though most writers are somewhere in between. There are writers who plan meticulously before they begin writing to create a very clean first draft, or there are discovery writers (otherwise known as “pantsers”) who find more success in choosing a premise and then using a zero draft to explore the idea before gluing down any details. You are most likely someone who falls between those two methods. Some initial planning to feel familiar with your idea before you do some of the planning through the writing itself. Having some semblance of a method will help you narrow down your own process, which is immensely important if you want to get any substantial project near completion.

Consistency

Drafting is a difficult process because it’s either the revisitation of ideas you’ve already had, or the generations of ideas in quick succession. If you want to have a draft in a reasonable amount of time, you must develop a consistency in your writing. I won’t say that it must be a strict routine because time management can be a luxury, but you must make the consistent effort to write, and keep it in the forefront of your mind. Even if you don’t write every day, it should be something you try to make time for every day.

Know What You’re Trying to Accomplish

To get a draft done, you need to set expectations for yourself and they must be realistic. That doesn’t mean they have to be easy, or an amount of work you’ve been able to accomplish in the past. Considering how much time you dedicate to writing and your skillset, it should be a goal within reality. In addition, you must accept that you cannot create a masterpiece in one draft. For each version of your story that you write, you must have a focused goal, such as maintaining consistent characterization, making the plot concise and engaging, or making the prose more fluid and efficient. If you have a specific and attainable goal that you can accomplish in a reasonable amount of time with a fair amount of precision, each draft will be better than the last.  

Designate Work to Phases

As mentioned in the last section, it maximizes your time and effort to have specific and attainable goals for each draft. This doesn’t mean that you rewrite the draft each time (though that is very common amongst writers), but that you designate tasks to draft versions. I find it very helpful in clearing my mind and soothing my perfectionist anxiety to make a “schedule”, outlining what I’ll accomplish in each version following the zero draft. For example, my draft schedules usually end up something like this:

Zero Draft: Main plot line, basic characterization, key world building

First Draft: Finalize Timeline, research for world building, structure

Second Draft: (Rewrite) Plot Development Fine Tuning

Subplot development

Foreshadowing

Build up to climaxes

Tone & Pace

Third Draft: (Intermittent Rewrites) Character Development Fine Tuning

Backstory

Subtextual Development

Making sure motivations are clear

Relationships between characters

Reinforcing character arcs

Checking dialogue

Fourth Draft: (Give to Beta Readers) World Building & Prose

Descriptions & Flow

Finalize settings

Checking grammar & punctuation

Reader Immersion

Fifth Draft: Incorporate Beta Reader Feedback

Write for Yourself First

In what some call the “zero-draft”, there are no rules. This draft is purely for your eyes. It’s you telling yourself the story for the first time. So, you don’t have to write in chronological order, or know the right word you’re looking for, or take a break every time you run into a problem. The purpose of the zero draft is to get a rough idea of as much of the story as you can and avoid getting snagged on minor details. This part is important. A lot of writers like to outline meticulously before they begin drafting and if that works for you, that’s great, but the majority of writers who attempt that get stuck in the planning phase, or burnt out on their story before a word of it exists. The easiest way to avoid those two situations is to do a zero draft, which can be as long or short as you want if it provides a skeleton for you to add meat to later.

Common Struggles

~ How do you estimate the number of words/chapters?... That depends on the genre, mostly. However, that’s usually something you decide in the second draft and beyond, and it can vary because of factors you haven’t got locked down until the plot and character arcs are firm or final. This is also something you’ll probably do a lot of tinkering with, and receive feedback on, especially from beta-readers, who can advise you on where natural breaks could occur from their perspective.

~ Why, after planning everything out, do I always struggle to write the draft?... 99% of the time, it’s because you’ve either burned yourself out, or accumulated too much pressure. When you put that much effort and time into a story, you can either slip into a headspace where you feel little excitement about it because you’ve already done all of the problem solving and had all of the revelations. It’s usually beneficial at this stage to take a step back (even if you’re not burnt out) and give your story some space, so that once you come back to it, you’re enthusiastic enough to fully realize your vision. If instead you’re struggling to write because you feel a lot of pressure to do justice for a story you’ve put so much love into already, take a step back, remember that the first draft is just for you, and work on letting go of the idea that the zero draft is meant to serve any purpose beside simply existing. 

~ How do I come up with the necessary scenes to move the story forward between major plot points?... Most writing problems can be solved by asking yourself the right questions. When you’re trying to figure out what your reader needs to see next in order to effectively set up the next major event, ask yourself “What would happen between event A and event B that would add context or make event B more impactful?”. Treat it like a real situation and try to map out all of the tiny, notable moments that would take place between the major plot points, and then assess those moments on the basis of how impactful they would be to the coming scenes, and whether they can add context, set the tone, or aide in the rising action.

~ How do I balance sticking to the draft and following my own creative instinct in the moment?... This is a judgement call. Sometimes you’ll realize that maybe you should have just stuck to the outline, but remember that you can always go back, rewrite, test things out, etc. Always save every version of every scene, just in case, and go wild. Don’t be afraid to take detours just to explore. The writing process is anything but linear. 

~ How do I maintain momentum in my writing progress when I constantly have distractions or other responsibilities that take priority?... Work at it. There’s no magic trick or piece of advice I could say that gets rid of your personal responsibilities. Write when you can, don’t make excuses on top of the reasons you have no control over, and remember that you create your own deadlines and expectations. Be kind to yourself, do what you can, and don’t spend potential writing time punishing yourself because there isn’t as much as you’d like. 

~ How should I designate space (words/pages) to specific scenes/description/conversations, etc?... Trust your instinct and remember you can always cut/add later. In the earlier drafts, I’d advise you try to create as much material as possible to work with, and in the later drafts, be ruthless when determining what is necessary and adds value, and what doesn’t.

~ How do I finish a draft if I regularly lose motivation or interest in my projects?... Accept the fact that motivation is fickle, and that no writer in history has ever maintained “inspiration” for any project from the beginning to the end. There are going to be days where you’re like “ugh this is not what I want to do right now”, probably more than there are days where you’re stoked to work on your project, but that’s reality. If your goal is to finish a draft, you must recognize that writing is work, and nobody wants to work all the time. Try to supplement the lack of motivation by setting a positive and enjoyable routine so that, even when you’re not particularly motivated, you still know that your writing time will be peaceful and comfortable. 

–

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[fairyhee]

Chocolate eclairs (pt.2)

{Part 1}

🍫 optional bias x reader

🍫 ~5.6k words

🍫 smut, enemies to lovers, slight dom/sub themes, praise kink, some dirty talk, oral (both receiving), face sitting (whew), reader has a thing for hands

(I might have dragged everything out for too long? I’m not sure, you tell me, but I just love thinking about all the details so I went with it. Also while I was writing, at some point I lost half of it and had to re-write it because the damn app didn’t save my changes to the draft 🙃 anyways thank you for reading!)

So far, nothing was going as planned today, but somehow you didn’t mind it anymore. At first you were extremely annoyed to say the least, but you slowly started to think having a tall and ridiculously handsome guy follow you around wasn’t so bad after all. Even though he was purposely being irritating, as always, just to get reactions out of you, it was worth enduring for the random flirty remarks he spat out every once in a while. Was he always like this? Did you only realize it now because you were too busy thinking how obnoxiously confident he was, or did he really also dislike you before? You were quite confused, but you at least thought you should enjoy the moment.

After buying those damn chocolate eclairs that you had been craving for a week, and after he insisted to pay, all while poking fun at how you were gonna die at a young age from how much sugar you consume, your next stop would have been the lingerie store. Except now you had him coming along with you, so you weren’t very sure what you should do. To buy some time, you pretended to look at all the stereotypically “romantic” objects that people usually gifted each other on Valentine’s day. Just for fun, you weren’t planning on hinting at anything, but you just wanted to see what he’d be like. Not to mention window shopping was one of your favorite activities when you had nothing else better to do. He, on the other hand, had his mind fixed on one thing solely.

“Y/n, aren’t we eating those eclairs? You didn’t want them just to carry them around, did you?” he asked with a pout.

“Excuse me, since when is there a ‘we’? They’re my eclairs, and I’m saving them for later. I told you I have plans, were you even listening to me?”

“You have plans, right. Well you should be careful then, that boyfriend you have plans with might get jealous if he sees you walking around with a guy like me. I honestly wouldn’t blame him if he felt threatened, after all, you just let the most handsome dude around here buy you coffee and sweets...oh wait, I forgot. You actually don’t have a boyfriend, do you now?” he said in a sarcastic tone. 

“It’s extremely funny that you think I need a man in order to have plans on Valentine’s day. I can very well take care of myself, thank you very much.”

“You can take care of yourself in what way exactly? Because if it’s what I’m thinking of, I bet I can do it better.”

“Thank you for your concern, h/n, but if you think you can buy your way into my pants with some sweets, then you have a very low and unrealistic expectation of me. If you want to impress me, try harder.”

“Oh don’t worry, this is far from my best shot. You just look so hot when you’re mad at me, I can’t stop myself.” he said with a sheepish laugh.

You blushed slightly, both at his words and from seeing him grinning so cutely. He had no business looking all cute like that after he had just literally suggested you sleep with him. How could he switch from being so cocky to getting shy for you in just a matter of seconds? You couldn’t help but wonder what he’d actually be like in bed. Especially since he had just showed a new side of him, a particular image of him being submissive to you was stuck on your brain. You could feel your face heating up, and you hoped he didn’t notice how red your cheeks had probably become.

Brushing it off, you entered a random toy store, feigning interest in some plushies. As you were admiring the various teddy bears that came in all shapes and colors, you noticed he had been surprisingly silent since your last exchange. You threw a glance at him and he seemed to have found some games he was interested in, as he had his eyebrows furrowed, trying to read the instructions on the back of some boxes. Perfect, you thought to yourself, now that he’s distracted, you could think of a plan. What the hell were you gonna do about the lingerie? You didn’t want to give up on buying it, you had wanted it for a long time and now was the perfect occasion. Did you want to go with him? Would he want to even enter the store with you? Would he become flustered and make things awkward? Would it be weird if you suddenly told him to leave you alone for a couple of minutes and meet you later? Or should you just end your meeting right there? You weren’t even sure how you wanted to spend the rest of the day anymore, but you for sure didn’t intend to abandon your plans completely for this man that barged into your solo Valentine’s day like that, despite the fact that you were starting to get interested in him.

While you were definitely overthinking the situation, h/n had long finished browsing the board games section. Suddenly, you felt someone’s hot breath near the side of your neck. 

“Y/n. You’ve been staring at that teddy bear for 3 minutes now. Did you not have any as a child, or do you want me to buy it for you that bad? You could just ask, you know.” 

Startled by the proximity of his voice, you turned your head to him and took a few steps away. “Wow, you sure have a talent for being rude. You’re still annoying even when you’re trying to hit on me.” you said trying to seem unaffected. However, you would lie if you said that feeling his breath on your skin didn’t send shivers down your spine. 

He chuckled at your reaction and slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

“So? Do you want it or not?”

“With that sort of attitude, I shouldn’t even answer. So what if I wanted it, what would you do? There’s nothing between us, so why would you buy it for me?” you taunted. You knew he was trying to make you soften up, but you weren’t falling for it just yet.

“Who said I’d buy it for you? If I did and you ended up sleeping with a stuffed toy every night, that would just be unfair.” he pouted. Why was he acting this cute now? This man was so confusing.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“I don’t wanna be jealous of a teddy bear. I’d rather you would sleep with me instead.”

You stared at his triumphant smile for a few seconds, at a loss for words. He looked like he just made the best pick-up line ever. It was so bad, yet you wanted to accept his wish and take him home. What was wrong with you? 

“You’re absolutely obnoxious, did you know that? Wipe that smirk off your face, you look like an idiot.”

He laughed. “But somehow you’re still putting up with me. I’d say you’re doing a great job enduring me. Unless...you’re actually enjoying my company, which I suspect you do.”

“Yeah, whatever. Come on, I have one more thing to get before I can finally go home and get rid of you.”

You had made up your mind. You weren’t letting any man interfere with your plans.

Walking in the most confident way possible, you entered the lingerie store. You didn’t even spare him a glance as you looked through the pieces, searching for something that would match your taste. You were dying to know what his reaction was, what he was thinking, but you weren’t giving in. Suddenly, you had an idea. Acting like what you were doing was the most normal thing, you picked out two options, pretending you couldn’t decide between them. One was a black see-through set adorned with velvet hearts, while the other was made out of red lace and a bunch of straps that looked like a harness. Either way, both were made more to reveal rather than cover you up. Holding one in each hand, you turned to look at him with an unfazed expression plastered on your face.

“Make yourself useful for once and help me decide. Which one do I get?”

Seeing the way he was looking at you made a flush of heat spread across your face. His eyes were dark and he looked like he would have devoured you right then and there. You didn’t know what you expected, but this look was definitely not it.

He took a few seconds to respond, during which his gaze on you only seemed to intensify. He almost looked angry, clenching his jaw and eyeing you so strongly.

“You’d look great in both, but I’d take the red one.”

Hearing his choice, you immediately hung it back on the rack and took your other option to the cash register. 

You heard him scoff behind you. “Why bother asking me if you were gonna pick that one anyway?”. He was smiling, but it was clear that he was trying to control his frustration. 

You gave him the sweetest smile in the world. “I liked both equally and couldn’t decide, so I’m getting the one you like less. Since you’re never gonna see me wearing it anyway.”

“You drive me insane. That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Really? But you’re the one that’s been following me around all day. Now you’re angry with me, how come?” you said innocently.

He smirked and took a few steps until he was so close, you could feel his hot breath on your face, but you didn’t back away and maintained his gaze. His scent was intoxicating, and you were trying your best to not show how into him you were already.

“If you want to make me angry, you’ll have to try harder, babygirl.” you clenched your thighs hearing that word escape his lips. “I like your teasing a little too much, actually. But making me imagine you wearing all these pretty things only to point out that I can’t have you the way I want? I have to admit, that was pretty mean.”

“Are you challenging me? Then I guess I need to step up my game to really get back at you.”

“Alright then, let’s make a deal. If you fail to make me angry by tonight, you have to go on a date with me. What do you say?”

You couldn’t stop the smirk forming on the corner of your lips. “Deal. You know, now I kinda understand why you keep bothering me. It’s actually fun trying to get you annoyed.” This time you weren’t lying.

He smiled back at you. “Glad we’re on the same page about one thing at least. So, any other torturous shopping that we need to do today? An adult store, maybe, since you said you like to take care of things yourself?”

“Nice try. I actually have a table reserved for later today, so I’m gonna have to go home and get ready. I wanted to go alone and have some me-time, but since I don’t plan on losing that challenge, I guess now you gotta come with me.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Wait a second,”he said and put the back of his palm on your forehead as if checking for a fever, “now it sounds like you’re the one asking me out. What happened? Are you okay?” he asked in an overly dramatic way. Oh great, now he was back to being the town circus. 

“It’s not a date, silly. Hopefully, it’s gonna be the worst dinner of your life, so I won’t have to see your face ever again.”

“You do know that I could just not show up and make you lose the bet, right?”

“If you do that, you won’t get my number. So no way to receive your prize.” Besides, you thought to yourself, wasn’t tonight already a date in itself? There was no way he would skip on that, or at least so you hoped. “See you at 6.” you said as you walked away, leaving him behind. 

By now your only desire was to get him totally whipped for you. He might have seen through your intentions already, but you couldn’t care less. The fights and arguments that were real in the beginning had now become an act, some sort of game to see which one of you would give in first. And you weren’t backing down until you had him completely wrapped around your finger. This year’s V-day turned out to be a lot more fun than you initially thought. 

After getting home, you took your sweet time showering and making yourself as pretty as possible. Having drenched yourself in perfume and strawberry scented body lotion, you put on the new lingerie and a red dress that complimented your figure. You did some minimal, but flattering make-up and took a good look in the mirror. You looked good enough to eat. Exactly what you wanted.

By the time you arrived at the restaurant, he was already waiting for you, and you realized he had probably tried just as hard as you to look hot. And he had definitely done a great job. His hair was pushed back and the suit jacket he was wearing highlighted his broad shoulders and tall figure. You wanted him to push you against a wall right then and there.

“Are you sure you’re not made out of sugar? You look so good, I’m afraid that if I touch you, you’d melt under my fingers.”

“You wish. I don’t even get a hi, you start our conversation with a lame pick-up line? This evening is going to be even more boring than I thought.” you said rolling your eyes.

“It’s good to see you again too. Come on, let’s order quickly, I’m starving.” he said as he was already looking through the menu.

After this first exchange, the rest of the dinner actually went on pretty normally. Without realizing, you had gotten comfortable with each other and stopped arguing altogether. Now you were just chatting about whatever came to mind, enjoying your meals and each other’s company. However, you did notice his eyes lingering a little too long on your exposed neck and chest, which you did your best to bring forward as much as you could when you moved around. You were hyper aware of his gaze on every move you made and you loved the attention he was giving you. You felt like you were the only woman in the room for him, the only one that deserved his attention. You suddenly remembered you were supposed to get him angry, but you weren’t sure you didn’t want a second date after all. However, you felt the need to say something about it.

“Look at all these couples enjoying their romantic dinner, and then there’s us. Here for the sole purpose of annoying each other.”

“If that was the purpose, I’d call this an epic fail.” he said with a smile and took a sip of his gin tonic,”So you still don’t want to admit that this is, in fact, a date?”

“Why would it be one, when we haven’t done anything out of the ordinary? We are just two people eating out together.”

“Good thing the evening isn’t over, then. Great choice of restaurant, by the way. But even though the food was amazing, I’d still prefer eating you out.” 

His bluntness caught you off guard, and you let the glass you were previously holding down on the table with a little more force than intended. From the impact, your drink splashed everywhere, including on yourself.

You moved a bit of the fabric of your dress away so you could wipe the martini drops that had just spilled on your chest, which uncovered the strap and the top part of your bra for a few seconds. You didn’t think much of it, but heard him swallow loudly. When you raised your eyes back to meet his, he was looking at you like he wanted to undress you with his eyes.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Did what on purpose?” you asked confused.

“Don’t act so innocent, you know exactly what I’m saying.”

“No idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, care for dessert? You need some sugar in your system, you seem to be turning grim again.”

“If by dessert you mean you, then I’ll gladly accept. You have enough sugar to keep me up for a long time.” he said with a smirk.

“Oh god, can you cut the disgusting jokes out? You make me sick.” 

“You’ll be even more disappointed to find out they’re not jokes. By the way,” he leaned over the table so he could bring his face a little closer to yours, “we’ve almost finished our drinks and you still haven’t made me angry. Time is ticking.” 

You fell silent for a couple of seconds, and played with your necklace while deep in thought. You were done playing this game. You wanted him, and you wanted him tonight. You wanted to blame it on the alcohol, but ever since you stepped foot in that place all you had been imagining were his veiny hands all over your body, how pretty his long fingers were and how much you wanted them inside you. He hadn’t even touched you once, but your panties were feeling damp already just by staring at his hands or seeing him clenching his jaw. You hadn’t noticed that your fidgeting with your necklace had caught his attention and he was now practically staring at your boobs without any hint of shame in his eyes. Your chest was heaving up and down as his eyes set your skin ablaze and your thoughts ran wild. Of course his gaze didn’t miss your heavy breathing. His fist was clenched on his glass and the veins on his arm protruded even more than usual. Your brain was so intoxicated with him that it completely forgot how to form sentences, leaving him without a reply. He leaned closer to you over the table and all but whispered.

“Just say the words, and I’ll give you whatever you want. All you have to do is say it.”

You hesitated, questioning whether you should swallow your pride or not. You stared into his deep brown eyes, glistening with lust, and admired his plump, slightly parted lips, silently pleading for you to stop this stupid game and finally admit what you’re feeling for each other. He was done playing, and so were you.

“It’s finally time for those eclairs.” 

A knowing smile spread on his face, as if he had just won the lottery.

The ride to your place was awfully silent. You felt like you could cut the tension in the atmosphere with a knife. Sitting near him in the back of the cab and just feeling his presence so close to you kept your skin burning up during the entire ride. He still hadn't touched you in the slightest, not even on your hand, and at this point you thought it was intentional just so you'd become desperate for him. It was working. It felt like the drive was taking ages, so you decided to have some fun and tease him a little.

You slowly slid your hand over your legs, starting from your knees and going up towards the hem of your dress, pulling it up ever so slightly. He noticed your movements instantly, and his eyes snapped to you. Now that you were assured he was watching, your hand traveled further under your dress, carefully so it doesn't reveal too much, and started running your own fingers across your damp panties.

His eyes widened, and you saw his adam's apple move when he swallowed a lump in his throat. "What do you think you're doing?" he whispered.

"What does it look like to you? I am an independent woman. Since you have not laid a hand on me all day, I'm doing it myself."

"You're an impatient one, aren't you?" you maintained his gaze but didn't stop your actions, slipping a finger underneath your underwear and whimpering ever so quietly, enough for only him to hear. You were determined to bring him down.

Like you had just pressed a button, his body reacted to your sounds faster than expected. The vein on his hand twitched as he quickly grabbed your wrist and held it in place.

"If you don't stop that, I’ll make sure you have trouble walking tomorrow." his words sent a shiver down your spine. With that, he firmly pulled your hand away and intertwined his fingers with yours, as if preventing you from causing more trouble. You decided to obey him, for now.

After a couple of minutes, you were arriving at your place. He followed you silently into the building and into the small elevator, where you were met with another crisis. He looked like he tried really hard to restrain himself as he leaned with his back and head against the mirror. He was looking at you through furrowed brows and hooded eyes, and you wondered why did he put himself through this struggle, when he could’ve had you right then and there. Pretending to check your mascara in the mirror behind him, you placed one hand on his chest and leaned over him, your face dangerously close to his neck, making sure your exposed cleavage pressed against him in the process. You didn’t care how obvious it was, he was clearly enjoying it. He did nothing but watch you, but his sigh and accelerating breath rate were giving him away. As soon as you reached your level, you instantly shot out of the elevator and got to your door in record time. 

The moment you set foot into the apartment and closer the door behind you, any control that you had before, just vanished into thin air. 

“Fucking finally”. He wasted no time in pressing you against the wall, both hands holding the sides of your face while he kissed you with all the pent up frustration from that day. You could feel his whole body onto you and yet you wanted more, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and tugging at it in an attempt to bring him even closer. His lips were soft but aggressive at the same time, the kiss neither too intense nor too slow, earning chills all over your spine the first time his warm tongue entered your mouth. It was still not enough, so you took over and laced your fingers at the back of his head, pulling on his hair while pushing yourself into him. His hands started traveling down your body, gripping your waist and hips with force as he pulled you even closer, making you feel his erection against you in the process. 

Out of breath, you broke the kiss to take a good look at him in this state. He was looking at you through glossy, hooded eyes, with his plump lips parted and glistening from the intensity of your kiss. He looked so hot, you realized you might not make it to the bedroom. 

Closing in the distance once again, his hands went to squeeze your ass through your dress as he started placing wet kisses down the side of your neck, painfully slowly, sending shivers all over your spine. You lifted a leg up to snake around his own, as if to invite his hands to stop wasting time and get under your skirt already.

“You’re surprisingly gentle for someone who’s been trying to get into my pants all day.” you felt him squeeze your ass harder, and he suddenly bit the soft skin under your ear and sucked on it, earning a gasp from you.

He didn’t reply, but instead slid his hand up your thigh and ran his fingers over your soaking panties.

“And you’re surprisingly wet for someone who supposedly hates me.” he teasingly rubbed the tip of his finger on your clothed clit, making you whine in response. It was almost as if the fabric wasn’t there at all, given how thin it was in the first place. “What did you buy this pretty underwear for, just to ruin it later?”

“Since when do you care about my lingerie?”

“I thought you wanted me to, since you brought me with you to that store and even asked for my opinion.” He pushed your panties to the side and properly coated his fingers with your juices. “You were such a dirty little slut for doing that to me.” his words shot straight to your core.

“Me, dirty? That little head of yours has a lot of issues. It’s your own fault for liking me in the first place.” you teased.

Hearing that, he pushed two fingers into your hole and you moaned. “You can talk shit all you want, but your body can’t lie about how much you want me, princess.” He pulled his hand away from your core, and took his own fingers, now coated with your essence, into his mouth, licking them clean. “Now be a good girl and take this dress off for me.” he said, pulling away from you. 

Not wanting to torture yourself any longer, you obeyed him, getting rid of your dress as quickly as possible. As he finally fully saw you in the pretty underwear, he eyed you from head to toe, as if he was looking at his prey, swallowing loudly. “Y/n, you’re so fucking gorgeous.” 

You pushed him back and led him to the couch, making him sit down. You quickly straddled his lap, making sure your boobs were right in his face as you grabbed the hair at the back of his head and brought your mouth to his ear, licking a stripe up from the side of his neck, reaching his earlobe. He shivered under you, and you started unbuttoning his shirt, while both his hands stroked over your boobs, touching your nipples and lightly pinching and twisting them over the thin material of the bra. The sensation was spreading into your entire body, making you moan right into his ear. You nibbled onto his earlobe, and he sighed loudly, grabbing your ass and pulling you on top of his dick, grinding into you. Your fingers ran over his now exposed chest and down to his belt, trying to get it undone. He grabbed your hands and undid it himself, and you stood up so he could get rid of his pants. 

Instead of sitting back on his lap, you dropped to your knees in between his legs and pulled his underwear down. His cock looked so red and hard, it seemed almost painful, and made your mouth water. You wanted to torture him some more though, so you stuck your tongue out and slowly ran it up from the base to his swollen tip, all while looking directly into his eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was biting his lower lip so hard, as if to keep him from making any sound. You were going to change that. You swirled your tongue around the tip, collecting the drops of precum, before taking him whole into your mouth. As you started bobbing your head, you made sure to take a little more of him each time, pushing your own limit gradually, looking up at him from time to time. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this. You’re taking me so well.” he said, trying to keep himself from forming any other sounds, and you wondered why wasn’t he letting go already. You wanted to make him a moaning mess. One of your free hands started playing with his balls, as you ran your nails across his thigh with the other one. Going a little deeper, his cock hit the back of your throat, and you paused for a second, swallowing around him, which earned a long, breathy moan from him. There, that was your reward. You continued taking him as deep as you could, looking up at him with wide eyes. This was his breaking point, as he couldn’t control his sounds anymore, his mouth was agape, letting out small grunts and whimpers now and then, and you felt his hips struggling to keep still. As the ache in your pussy was getting unbearable because of your actions, your own hand came to play with your clit to get some sort of release, moaning around his cock. 

He didn’t miss this, as suddenly, his hand flew to your hair and he held you still. “Don’t you dare touch yourself. Get up” he said in a demanding voice. He followed you up himself, and completely slid his shirt and underwear off of him, then laid down on the carpet. “I want you to sit on my face. Let me have my dessert and enjoy you like you deserve.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. After discarding your panties, you placed your knees on either side of his head and carefully lowered your cunt closer to him, but he grabbed your ass and aggressively pulled you onto his mouth, making you gasp and grip the couch beside you for support. The feeling of his wet and warm tongue against you was making your thighs weak. He started by licking a long stripe across your folds, then alternated between sucking at your clit, drawing patterns with his tongue across your sensitive spot at different paces and intensities. Your sounds and whimpers were a mess, and you could feel your orgasm building with each second. He was eating you out like a starved man, face buried completely under your pussy, and the view was only contributing to your arousal. One of his hands snaked up to your nipple and started playing with it, adding to the sensation. When he suddenly applied more pressure to a certain angle, you thought you were gonna lose your mind. “Fuck, h/n, right there, please, don’t stop” was what you wanted to say, but you weren’t sure your words came out coherently. Either way, he got the message, and a few seconds later, you were coming undone on his tongue, letting out a few high-pitched moans as he helped you ride out your high.

After regaining composure, you stood up to let him breathe. His lips and chin were glistening from your juices, and he wiped them off with the back of his hand. “That was delicious. You’re a fucking goddess, did you know that?” he said as he stood himself up, grabbed your face and kissed you with force.

“Just fuck me already.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.” he said as he pushed you against your table, having you lie down on it. He quickly grabbed a condom from his jeans and rolled it on his still painfully hard cock. Grabbing your legs and holding them on each side of him, he rubbed the tip of his member over your clit a few times before fully pushing it into your tight hole, swearing in the process. He wasted no time before moving, slowly at first to let you adjust, then suddenly slammed his hips into you with force, earning a loud moan from you. “Fuck, do that again, please” you said, already feeling your second orgasm starting to build up. He thrusted into you harder and deeper, filling the room with your sounds everytime his skin met yours. The way he filled you up was absolutely delicious, clouding your vision and making you lose yourself in your pleasure as he was hitting all the right spots inside you. 

“Ever since your brought me into that store, all I could think of was fucking you in your pretty lingerie, imagining how your boobs would bounce up and down while I pound into you like this.” you took his hand and brought it to your lips, silently asking him to let you suck onto his fingers. “You don’t know how much of a torture that wa- fuck” you took his long and pretty fingers into your mouth and swirled your tongue around them, mimicking the way you sucked him off earlier and watching him lose his ability to speak as his mouth hung open. “H/n, harder, don’t stop, I’m going to come.” you said in a desperate attempt to get him to shut up and concentrate. Motivated by your words, he increased his pace, and after a few more hard and sloppy thrusts, you reached your second orgasm, soon followed by his own. His whole body twitched as he came down from his high, both of you panting, and exhausted.

Pulling out of you, he quickly discarded the condom and took you into his arms to place both you and him comfortably on the couch.

“That was fucking hot” he said, still holding you in his arms while you were catching your breaths. 

“Yeah. I think I might hate you a little less after this.” you said and you both laughed.

After coming back to your senses, you got up and went straight to the kitchen. A few seconds later, you came back holding the box he bought you from the french bakery, handing him an eclair.

“I knew why I saved those chocolate eclairs for later. They taste better after you’ve been craving them all day, don’t you think?”

He just smiled in response. “You might be right. By the way, I won. It seems like you’ll be drinking ice americanos again, after all.”

[groovyzombiellama]

Shy Baby Girl

Title: Shy Baby Girl

Requested? Yes.

Plot: Cato noticing you during practice sessions and he starts flirting with you and teasing you, but slowly falls for your timid and kind nature, and then the night before the games he confesses and you spend the night together.

Warnings: I am attempting to write smut after so long of not writing anything, so i will be attempting to write a detailed smut scene :) (so please be nice to me, I’m so worried about posting this for some reason)

Word count: 3013 (I might have went a little overboard, but I haven’t written in a while, so enjoy a longer story :) )

---***---

You didn’t expect to get drafted for the Games any time soon, and when you were, your whole family was shocked, and your older sister, who actually thought she was going to be the one going in was ready to volunteer, but your dad stopped her, as he believed that you could get through it. You were actually fine with going into the Games, as you had accepted this as your life, and you knew your time was coming, and in the end you guessed it’s better rather sooner than later. But one thing worried you the most, and that was the fact that you hated confrontations, and would much rather be making friends in life, even though you knew that was kinda impossible considering the way the world was now. You were prepared to fight for your life and to win in the Games, but a big part of you dreamed of a day when you didn’t need to fight to survive. You didn’t expect anything going into the whole process, but you were planning on keeping to yourself and not responding to any provocations.

 At first, everything was fine, you were almost always training, to make sure you were as ready as possible, but whenever someone needed help, you were there to show them a move or hold their punching bag steady so they could practice accuracy. And that was how you actually caught the attention of Cato, a blonde, blue eyed guy, who ended up being intrigued by the quiet, timid girl, who greeted everyone with a smile. He watched you for a while, trying to pinpoint what it was about you that has him so drawn in, and he decided one day that he was gonna approach you, and teach you the best stance for a fight, considering this his moment to throw in some flirting in the mix. The faint blush that spread across your cheeks every time you saw him, well, it has him hooked. Watching you from afar was nothing compared to being up close and personal, and your shy smile that would grace your lips at his compliments was becoming the highlight of his day. “I see you at the gym every day, and you still struggle with the basics. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were scared.“ He said one day when he noticed that you were not using the stance that he had taught you and as he spoke, he let his hand “accidentally“ brush against yours, his eyes searching for that rosy tint that he felt was the shade only present on your cheeks and couldn’t be found anywhere else in the world.

You brushed him off, already used to his teasing, saying how you were not scared and if he needed you to prove it, he is free to challenge you to a sparing match. Cato smiled softly, a feature you had grown to like, and you lowered your gaze to hide your own smile that was curving your lips. But of course, Cato caught that and while he swore his heart was beating faster seeing it, he had to default to teasing you about how you were still not comfortable with him, despite knowing each other for a while now. The reason why he would always tease you and playfully flirt with you (although you were oblivious to that one) was because he was not really yet ready to confess his feelings to you. Pretty odd huh? A guy like him, who was training to fight for his life in the Hunger Games, basically a show for the rich to watch children get killed off one by one, until there is only one winner, afraid of what a girl thought about him.

Although he didn’t know how, he knew that he had to tell you abut how he felt, hoping that in case you felt the same, he could count on your alliance, and at the end he would let you come out on top, or would hopefully be able to convince the government to let you both win and stay together. And he had his mind set on telling you the night before the games. The fact that you were so timid and at the same time so fierce and powerful made Cato’s head spin. There was just someting about you, someting in your eyes that showed that despite the world crumbling around you, your innocence was someting intact that could not be destroyed and he wanted to protect that so much, he wanted to make sure you are not exposed to anything that could damage that, no matter the fact that you would have to fight for your life, he hoped you would let him stick by your side and protect you.

 Just like you were unaware of his flirting and the fact that he felt the same way for you as you did for him, you wanted to tell him how you felt, but you just couldn’t. There were a few times that you were certain that you were going to tell him about your feelings, but the moment you would see him, the way his sky blue eyes bore into yours and how they would light up when he smiles or develop their signature mischievous glint when he was teasing you, and all that courage that you built flied out of the window. Until tonight that is. You were currently sitting in a quiet fort that Cato had built a bit further away from the others and invited you, because he needed to tell you something, your eyes wide, lips slightly parted, and eyebrows raised, trying to process what he had just told you. Cato had just informed you about his feelings and it made you feel giddy and excited, but also gave you this newfound confidence, right after he waved his hand in front of your face, as you had been silent for far too long for his liking after he just spilled his heart out to you.

 Suddenly this new rush of confidence took over your body and before you knew what you were doing, you surged forward and pressed your lips against his, and this time it was Cato’s turn to be taken off guard and surprised. For a moment or two you just stayed like that, neither of you moving your lips, but just feeling them pressed one against the other, getting familiarised with their shape and soft feeling. Soon however, Cato started moving his lips, to which you followed suit, and the salty taste of todays lunch mixed together in your mouths, as Cato decided to lick your bottom lip, and then slightly nibble it after you didn’t get the hint, causing you to slightly gasp, and Cato took the opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth. You were filled with complete bliss as your tongues fought for dominance, that you just let yourself fall back, with Cato hovering over you, his hand on the middle of your back guiding you into the pillows he had placed for you guys to lay on. Neither one of you expected this turn of events, and you figured you would just talk and fall asleep there, but both of you were slightly worried about tomorrow, so you decided in that moment that you were gonna fall victimes to your feelings and enjoy your time together.

 As the two of you continued kissing, you felt like your hands had a mind of their own as they glided up and down Cato’s toned back muscles and his arms, one of your hands finding their way to the short hairs on the back of his neck, as you let your fingers tangle with them and even lightly tug on them, earing a low groan from Cato, which you happily swallowed. But soon it was your turn to express your pleasure, as you felt his warm hand get in contact with your cold skin, as he slipped his hand under your shirt, soothing your waist, before reaching up and cupping one of your breasts. You moaned just as your lips parted, damn lungs and their need for air. “Even though we are far enough away from the others, we’re gonna need to manage our volume baby, you never know who might be lurking, okay?“ Cato said as he looked deep into your eyes, his hand still on your breast, squeezing it after getting confirmation from you through a nod, causing you to gasp, and Cato to go right back to attacking your lips with his own.

 You felt his manhood harden against your leg as you went on, kissing and removing the top halves of your clothes. As soon as he reached around to your back to unhook your bra, you felt your nipples instantly harden as the cold air hit them, but what got you more worked up was Cato blowing on them slightly, before taking one of them in his mouth, while his fingers pinched the other. Your back arched off the pillows, and you felt your wetness pool in your core, with each flick of his tongue on your nipple. Cato sucked in a sharp beath as your hand found its way to his clothed dick, and you began to palm him, causing him to groan lowly as he attached his lips to your neck, and sucked on that sweet spot that had you seeing stars, making sure to leave a big, purple mark. After he was satisfied with his work, he kissed the spot he had been sucking on and looked at your hooded eyes, with his own getting darker and filled with even more lust.

 He wanted to see your face as his hand reached into your pants, and started rubbing circles around your clit, causing a moan slightly louder than you had intended to escape your lips. Cato quickly muffled it with his own lips, whispering into your ear that you needed to be a bit more quiet, but still continuing his assault on your core with his fingers. You bit your lip, and you could tell he could feel how wet you were and how aroused he was making you, just as you were making him (in his own words, you were driving him crazy). Without warning, his hand slipped into your panties and you threw your head back at the pleasure his fingers were giving you. “C-Cato, ple-ease...“ You wanted to say more, but your words got stuck in your throat when two of his fingers entered your pussy. You grabbed his wrist with both hands, and bucked your hips to meet his thrusting fingers, as Cato watched your face contorting in pleasure, your moans being music to his ears, and thinking in a moment how did he get so lucky to have you feeling the same way about him as he did about you.

 But hearing your cracked voice begging him for something (he knew exactly what) his fingers stopped and he removed his hand from your pants, causing you to whine from the lack of contact. Cato smirked as he licked his fingers, tasing your juices, that melted over his tongue like honey, before placing his fingers into your mouth, allowing you to taste the mix of yourself and his spit. His smirk grew into a grin as you began to fumble with the opening on his pants, desperate to feel him inside you. He allowed you to push him on his back and climb on top of him, and after removing his pants and boxers, letting his erection spring free, you got rid of your own bottoms, throwing them both to the side, and began tracing a line from Cato’s lips, down his chest and stomach, all the way to his manhood, finally getting to have your ears blessed with his breathless moans and groans as you took his manhood in your hands and licked a long stripe from his balls to the leaking tip, keeping eye contact with him, seeing his eyes flitter closed at the sensation.

 You waste no time taking him into your mouth, earning you a gutteral moan from Cato, to which you hummed, satisfied that he was now the one to have to manage his volume, and the vibrations your hum caused around his dick make him place one of his hands on his mouth at to try to supress, even a little bit, announcing to the rest of the people getting ready for the Games tomorrow the pure bliss that you were making him feel, while his other hand found it’s way to get tangled into your hair, not really forcing your head to move, just resting there, only slightly tugging on your hair when a wave of pleasure was higher than the previous ones, which he would only learn to both enjoy and regret, because that earned him you taking him into your mouth completely, so much that he could feel the back of your throat, along with the vibrations of your moan, and he could have sworn he was about to cum in seconds. When he felt truly close, he tugged on your hair a bit harder, and you got the hint, taking him out of your mouth, and the sight of your flushed cheeks, and a string of spit still connecting your plump lips to his dick was a beautiful sight to him.

 He beckoned you to come towards him, and he could taste himself as you kissed him, just like how he had made you taste your juices of his fingers. “How about you ride daddy now, hmm baby, what do you say?“ His low voice had shivers running down your spine, and you actually couldn’t wait to feel him inside you, so you positioned yourself and without any warning, you slammed hard on his dick, and it had both of you practically choking out moans from the back of your throats, getting used to now being connected into one before you started moving your hips up and down, Cato raising his pelvis to match whatever rythm you were leading him in, and despite starting off slow, soon you were placing your hands on his chest, your pace getting quicker and each time you would sink deeper onto him as your thrusts would meet in the middle. You were both no longer that concerned with managing the volume of your voice, as you didn’t really care if someone heard you, pure extasy flowing through you with each thrust.

 Wanting to tease him, you clenched your inner walls around his dick a few times, even past him telling you that if you continue doing that, he would cum sooner than he wants to. After you did it again, Cato had had enough, quickly rolling both of you over, as you squealed, and ordering you to get on your knees. You did so, even though you prefered watching his muscled torso and arms, shining with sweat, but the mix of pleasure, letting Cato take the lead, and the chance of you getting caught by someone in your heated session, it made it all so much more fun for you. Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head as Cato accompanied his dick entering your pussy with his hand slapping your ass, and the tingling sensation that followed was only adding to the pleasure, which he knew, and so he added a few more slaps as he fucked you fast and hard, going balls deep inside you with every thrust, and ever plea you made for him to slow down a bit were falling on deaf ears. “I can’t hear you baby. Are you saying to go faster? Sure I can do that.“

He almost had you screaming with the pleasure he was giving you and as you felt the tingles in your lower stomach, you knew it was only a matter of time before you came undone. As soon as Cato received verbal confirmation that you were close to your orgasm, his hand reached around and found your clit, rubbing it fast, and this time your were truly seeing stars as your body began to shake, and convulse, and you came on Cato’s dick, harder than you had ever cum before. It was gonna take you several minutes to recover from that, you were sure of it. And the sound of your moan as you came, accompanied by your pussy walls clenching around him, Cato knew he was close too. He pulled out of your pussy, you already missing the contact, and came on your ass, and then collapsed next to you, after using a napkin to clean both of you. He gathered you in his arms and used a blanked he had brought to cover your naked bodies, and you both waited until your breating settled down.

 You both felt amazing and you knew this was not gonna be the last time you would have sex with Cato, something in your gut convincing you of it, especially after he offered you a round two as you both came down. At first it had you giggling, thinking there was no way to top what you had just experienced, but seeing the tent his dick made in the blanket, you knew he wasn’t joking and that you were not yet done with each other. That blissful night before the Games had you both cumming multiple times, each one stronger than the previous one, and before letting exaustion take over you and your eyes flutter closed, taking you off to the realm of sleep, both of you agreed to stick together no matter what and find a way to survive together, despite all odds, and prove that you were stronger together. You had found each other in this world of madness and you were not gonna take that for granted, Cato was yours, you were his and no matter what, you were sure that he will have your back just as much as you’ll have his.

---***---

I hope the two anons that requested this think I did their request justice and I hope you all enjoy reading it. I’ll try my best to write more often, but since it’s exam season and I’m trying to graduate this year, most of my time is focused on studying :) I’m literally half asleep as I finish this fic, so I hope you guys don’t find any issue with it, and if you do, please let me know through messaging me something like “This part of your fic was a bit much” or something like that, for some reason I’m worried you guys are not gonna like it, but here it is, tomorow I’m going back into my inbox to find some new requests, but for now, I need sleep badly :)

[alpacaparkaseok]

Heartbreak Ave.

When they’re in love with you but you have feelings for a different member (Hyung line)

→ tags/warnings: SFW, angstyyyyy (like, I’m sorry but at the same time I wanted to write something sad), no, there’s not a happy ending really idk so read at your own heart’s risk, but like really. I was listening to “Manos de Tijera” while writing this so it’s a wee bit heartbreaking

→ a/n: I don’t really write reactions very often but this seemed fun when @sierra-fics​ brought it up! I actually have one of your suggestions in my drafts, just haven’t finished it up yet. Thanks for the push, though! I love exploring different styles!

read the maknae line version here!

Kim Seokjin

he’s not surprised

it’s probably the worst part for him, the fact that he’s not surprised when your eyes light up as Taehyung waltzes in the room. 

he had been in the middle of plucking up the courage to invite you to try out that new Thai restaurant you’d been chattering about when Tae walked in

and you tried - you really did - to pay attention to what Jin had been saying, but you faltered a bit as Tae greeted you warmly and plopped down beside Jin

and Jin just watched, not surprised. 

although what does surprise him is how much it hurts

that pain where your heart literally, physically hurts? it’s an exquisite pain, one that takes his breath away

and it doesn’t go away

it doesn’t fade

so he ends up in Namjoon’s studio later that night, and Namjoon knows to wait for him to open up

Jin just stares for a while, blankly at the wall

“Does Tae like her?”

Namjoon already knows who he’s referring to. He’s known about Jin’s helpless crush on you for ages, he knew before Jin himself figured it out

but it’s the way that Jin asks the question so softly, so carefully, that Namjoon realizes with a start that this is so much more than a crush

and Jin looks at him, misery clear in his eyes but also clear resolve visible  even as unshed tears glimmer 

“Would you really let her go?” Namjoon counters gently. Because he knows. He knows that if Tae got the green light, you'd be swept up in a matter of seconds.

and it’s the way that Jin stares down at his feet, and the tears begin rolling down his cheeks, that has Namjoon sick to his stomach

Jin nods, and when he speaks, his voice shakes but he sounds so earnest that it breaks Namjoon’s heart

“I’d do anything for her.”

no words are exchanged after that for a long, heart-wrenching moment. it’s just Jin, staring down at his feet and quietly sobbing, and Namjoon, pulling him into an embrace. 

“I’m sorry, hyung.”

it’s surprising to Jin, just how much that soft phrase cuts through him. It sounds so final. 

because at the end of the day, it’s the only solace that can be offered to him. 

he lost. 

he loved, and he lost.

Min Yoongi

you’re sitting beside him in his studio when the realization hits him like a freight train

sprawled sideways in your designated swivel chair while you stifle a yawn and rub your eyes, Yoongi wonders when he let his emotions get so out of hand

because you’re offering him a shy smile and asking him a question that he numbly answers, but on the inside he’s a total clueless mess

when did he fall in love with you?

it’s something that will haunt him long after you leave that night, rushing out when you get a call from Hobi

for the second time that night, he’s hit with another realization

he’s still reeling from the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you, so when you gasp and grin when your phone light up with a call, he falters

it’s like being doused with a bucket of ice water, the way you whisper, “oh, it’s Hobi!” and politely ask if you can take the call before rushing out into the hallway

“oh,” he mumbles to himself as the door closes. “it’s Hobi.”

and he laughs. 

quietly, darkly. he laughs to himself, at himself, whatever. 

because of course it’s Hobi. his best friend, his vitamin. you two deserve each other. of that much he’s certain. 

he doesn’t waste too much time feeling sorry for himself; he’s logical enough to see that you two are probably a better match. it’s nothing personal.

so why does he stay in his studio all night, ignoring any calls or messages sent his way?

he’s not sure when he fell asleep, but next thing he knows he’s sprawled out on his little couch and you’re gently shaking him awake

“Yoongo? Did you stay here last night?”

his eyes crack open at the sound of your voice, just enough to be met with your sweet smile

and he, in his half-asleep state, smiles back. he reaches one hand up to gently brush back a strand of your hair, and he swears you lean into his touch

and when you mumble something about Hobi bringing breakfast up, Yoongi is hit with the third realization in less that twenty-four hours.

it’s startlingly simple: 

he wants to cry. 

so he excuses himself to the bathroom, and cries. sets a five minute timer so nobody gets worried and comes looking for him, and allows himself that time to cry. 

then, with machine-like precision, he washes his face and puts some eyedrops in, and goes back out to pretend like everything is fine.

and whenever Jin or Taehyung bring up acting, Yoongi knows. He knows, deep down, that he’s the best actor of all. 

because he still loves you

and you will never know.

Jung Hoseok

hobi has never been the most forthcoming with his emotions

he keeps them on lockdown

monitors them with military-like focus

so he knows the exact moment he begins developing feelings for you

(it’s when you brought Bang PD a bouquet for valentine’s day, just to make him blush)

and he knows the exact second when he fell in love

(it was when, after a grueling day at work, you silently walked through his door with his favorite goodies and left without a single word)

(you were wearing a yellow cardigan that day)

(he’s never looked at the color yellow the same way)

if he’s completely honest, he’s sometimes trying so hard to stay on top of his own feelings that he forgets to watch out for where your attention may be drifting

to be fair, you kept your own little crush on Jimin a secret

so when Hobi decides to get over himself and just shoot his shot, he decides he’s all in

and when you arrive at his apartment that night for a movie, you’re shocked to see a bouquet of yellow flowers in Hobi’s shaking hands

“hey” he breathes

you stare at the flowers, then at him

“hello...?” then, with a sinking felling, you point at the flowers. “are those for me?”

hobi smiles broadly. “yeah, they are.” and he hands them to you, allowing his fingers to brush up against yours 

it’s electrifying, that small touch

and again, he’s so focused on how electrifying it is that he misses the way you look like you might be sick

pale face, concerned expression

he misses it all, because he’s so nervous but so stupidly in love that he’s just barreling ahead.

gotta get this out of the way

ugh, feelings

and so when he leads you to sit with him out on the balcony, he takes a deep breath and looks at you with wonder in his eyes

and that’s when he notices the way you’re fiddling with your bracelet

not a problem, except for the fact that it’s the one he saw Jimin carefully choosing from an online collection

so when you keep fiddling with the bracelet and avoiding Hobi’s eye contact, he gets it

he takes a long look at all those emotions he keeps in check, and allows himself a moment of self-pity before reaching out and laying a hand atop your own

you immediately stop fidgeting and look at him with wide eyes. he can see with a pang how you’re trying to come up with the best way to let him down easy

so he does the job for you

“I just wanted to say thank you for the other day,” he says, forcing a light tone. “when you brought me those goodies after work. It really meant a lot.”

you blink, confused. “Oh. uh, you’re welcome.”

“and,” he drawls, a well-rehearsed smile clawing its way onto his face, “I wanted to snoop and get the inside scoop about Jiminie. I know he got you that bracelet. did he finally cave and confess to you?”

you look shocked, but you burst out into relieved laughter. “how did you know?”

he didn’t. “how could I not? he’s absolutely whipped.”

and you blush under the stars and begin to ramble, lost in your excitement and joy. 

and Hobi watches. smiling. supportive. laughing at the right spots and asking all the right questions. 

later, when you give him a tight hug and thank him for the fun night, he lets the words sting as you call him “such a great friend.” he lets them sting, relishing in the pain. 

he reminds you to take your flowers home, and you begrudgingly admit that they’re your favorite type of flower. 

he didn’t know. but that hurts, too. the fact that he got it right. 

Hobi never looks at the color yellow the same way again.

Kim Namjoon

he’s told you he loves you a million times now

every night, in every dream, he tells you how much he loves you

adores you with everything he is

you manage to find your way into his music, his musings, every piece of artwork he comes across

he's never been like this before

never, he’s sure of it

and everyone knows, except for you.

it becomes a strange game for the boys to play, dropping hints at every opportunity, laughing at your confused expression

Jungkook and Taehyung especially enjoy the chaos that they create, making Namjoon groan and grow embarrassed

but you have no idea

or are you just willfully ignorant?

all Namjoon knows is that he’s swimming in his feelings for you, completely lost and on the verge of drowning

but, oh, what a way to die

he’s never been able to stop himself when it comes to you

and he considers himself rather disciplined, but the way you make him feel he could throw caution to the wind and give it all up

so when you end up staying late one night at the apartment, the boys manage to convince you to stay

“there’s plenty of room” Jungkook muses, feigning deep thought. “besides, it’s too late for you to drive back tonight. just stay.”

and while Namjoon wants to kill them all for the way they offer up his bed to you, he thinks he might actually die when you reluctantly agree with a yawn

he knows he should offer to take the couch, but something stops him

it’s like he physically can’t

“I don’t mind sharing the bed” you state, squinting at him while wearing his basketball shorts and oversized t-shirt. 

you look adorable. he’s unsure of how he’s even functioning right now, to be honest. he’s melting.

“just keep your snoring in check, loser”

and he’s back to laughing, turning off the light and hopping into bed

you’re so far away

why are you so far away?

“hey” he whispers, the sound so loud in the quiet. the only other sound is the muffled voices of the other members, no doubt down in the kitchen gossiping about the events of the night

“hey yourself” you whisper back, turning to face him

he can see you in the moonlight, his eyes having adjusted just enough.

and he wants to kiss you so badly

so he smiles, heart leaping when you smile back

and he reaches out, gently tracing your jawline. 

you say nothing, heart thundering in your chest

because to be honest, you’re confused 

why is he looking at you like that?

but you don’t ask as Namjoon takes a deep breath, steadying himself before propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at you with an adoring expression

your eyes flutter closed as he brushes his thumb against your cheek, and he can feel your heartbeat racing

your reaction gives him all the courage he needs as he leans down, lips capturing your own in a long, sweet kiss

and he’s going out of his mind because he finally kissed you, didn’t he?! finally!! 

but those are your hands on his chest, and instead of pulling him in closer you’re gently pushing him away

“namjoon.”

he’s never hated his name so much.

“I’m so sorry- I- I thought that maybe-” he stutters, pulling himself upright as you do the same, and he launches out of bed, hands in his hair “I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”

“Namjoon.” you repeat, and he notices now how utterly distraught you look. 

because you’re still confused, but there’s one name rolling around in your head even as you can still taste namjoon on your lips. 

“I...” you shake your head, unsure of what to say. “It’s just...”

and he’s looking at you with big eyes, taking in every single word you say. and you want to take it all back, want to let him kiss you until you’re breathless, but your heart won’t let you. 

“Just what?” he asks quietly, afraid of the answer. so afraid

“...Jungkook.”

two syllables, and his world comes crashing down around him. 

namjoon is silent, avoiding your gaze as he grabs one of the pillows off of the bed and a spare blanket, heading toward the door. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch. I’m sorry.”

and he’s gone before you can utter another word. 

sure enough, the boys are still downstairs, and they all fall silent as Namjoon appears, throwing the pillow down on the couch. 

“Hyung!” Jungkook asks, scrambling over. “Hyung, what happened? What are you doing down here?”

Namjoon can’t bring himself to look at the maknae, not when he can still picture how it felt to kiss you. not when those few seconds of paradise are still on his lips. 

“Didn’t wanna wake her up with my snoring.”

because how could he ever be angry at the boy that looks at him like he’s his savior?

--

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[hoodieofholland]

hey love. I’m obsessed with mob!tom - could you write something where mob Tom and the reader have a really big fight and Tom says something that was really mean and reader storms out and doesn’t come back until late and night and Tom is super worried :) at the beginning angst and at the end fluff.

I actually asked other writers too to write this a while ago but nobody does it and I found your account now and I’m so in love with your writing you are super talented <3

Sorry if my English is not really good- it’s not my first language

A/n: dear anon, you were reading my mind! I was actually procrastinating with a draft of some angst with mob!tom for a while, and you just motivated me to write it again hahah im obsessed with mob!tom too btw, no shame on this lol. Thanks for requesting, hope you like it!

Masterlist Request/tell me your thoughts on this

Warnings bellow the cut!

Warnings: angst, language, mention of gun.

You throw your purse over the table as you storm inside the house, walking up to your room with a stern face, straightened back and confident steps, without saying a word. Tom watched you from behind, sighing as he knew what was about to come - you were pissed.

He followed you slowly, not wanting to hurry the fight that was about to come. He knew pretty well what he has done tonight, but wasn’t planning on apologize, as he was also sure he wasn’t wrong about it.

By the time he reached the main room, you were already in the closet, taking off your jewels and putting them inside their boxes. “Baby”, he called you, but you didn’t raise your head.

Your gesturing was obviously stating your humor - or the lack of it. You wasn’t being so careful with the expensive belongings, as you always made sure to be.

“Baby”, Tom tried again, sighing this time, “Can you at least tell me what the hell did I do?”

That was the breakpoint. You lifted your head to look at him sternly. “Seriously? You gonna really act like you don’t know?”

He snorts, running a hand through his brown curls. “I mean, I know. I just don’t get why you’re so upset about it”

You laugh humorless. “I’m upset ‘cause you fucking treated me like a doll, Tom. That’s why I’m upset about it!”

“What?”, he snapped, narrowing his eyes. “What the fuck, I just told that asshole of a waiter to get his shit together instead of eye-fucking you. For God’s sake, what’s wrong with that?”

"Well, maybe the fact that you made a scene in front of the manager because you were jealous?" You shout, shaking your hands. "Should I tell you the obvious fact that this man is probably fired now because of your speech?".

Tom was growing mad. He couldn't believe you were defending the guy who was flirting with you the whole dinner.

Turns out that what was supposed to be a calm and relaxing dinner quickly became something distasteful, as Tom took notice of the waiter that was serving your table that night looking at you with a dumb smile on his face the entire time. He could even see the guy talking to some other workers about you, staring at you like you were some kind of meal. So Tom did what he thought was right - he made it very clear that you were his girl and a employee shouldn't be looking at you like that.

"I don't give a single fuck if he's unemployed right now. He should take this as a lesson to not disrespect you or any other woman in his workplace", Tom said, undoing his tie and throwing it in anywhere in the wardrobe. He was tired and pissed with the whole situation - and, more important, with you, for making a big deal out of it.

"Disrespect me, or disrespect you, Tom?", you snap, eyes wide with anger. "Cause it didn't look like you were worried about me. Cause all I wanted was a peaceful dinner with my boyfriend, who actually never seems to be available to me, and you made it pretty hard for me to enjoy, just because you were mad for a guy possibly be flirting with your girl! Like I fucking belonged to you!"

"Oh, fuck off, y/n", he hissed, walking past the closet's door and going straight to the bathroom. "It's obvious I'd be pissed for the it too. You're my girl, and I don't think it's nice if other man look at you like that! Don't act like you've never done it too".

You followed him, yelling next. "Shit, you're unbelievable! What is it? Nobody can look at Tom Holland's girl? Because you're the great motherfucker mobster and I'm your fucking prize?"

Tom turned his body to glance at you again. He pointed a finger at you, eyes serious and penetrating. "I've never said it. That's not how I see this".

"Oh, really? So you care to explain me why do you keep doing that? We barely spend time together now, Tom, and when we finally get to have a nice night out, you make sure to state that I'm yours and that no other man can lay an eye on me", you sniff, unable to keep the cracked voice from coming out and show how upset you felt about it. "I don't like to feel that I'm waiting for you like a goddamn doll, Tom".

"Well, darling, I'm sorry if I'm not being enough, but that's how real world works", his voice is cold and he is avoiding looking into your eyes, his jaw clenched in a way that make it clear that he's not satisfied with the conversation's rumor. "I made it pretty clear when we first met that my job doesn't allow me to be here the entire time, so what the fuck do you expect me to do? Or do you think that this nice house and the maids, and all the fucking jewels I give you come for free? Tell me, y/n, what the hell you want from me?"

You watch his usually soft features whenever you were around turning into the one he used with his men. The veins in his neck visible, his pupils huge and thin lips trembling with anger. Tom has never spoken to you that way, and you could feel the pressure on your chest with the pain from his harsh words.

A couple of tears rolled down your cheeks and you were quick to rub them away with the back of your hand. Noticing the way you pressed your lips together lightly, Tom's face softened and he realized his posture and tone.

"I don't- I don't know, Tom", you say in a low, croaky voice. "Think I just wanted us to be a couple. I'm truly sorry if that's too much to ask you for".

His heart pained at your words and he took a few steps in your direction. "Darling, no, that's not what I-"

You stopped him, putting your arm in front of you and shaking your head. "No, that's exactly what you wanted to say. I don't know what I had in mind when we started dating, nor what I was thinking when I agreed to move in here, but I don't want to be between you and your job anymore".

He stared at you, unaware of what you were about to do, thinking about what to say. He didn't want to fight with you like that, but didn't want you to think that what you've said is true neither.

You walked past him and straight to the closet again, picking up your suitcase and grabbing a few clothes from the wardrobe. Tom watched you for a few seconds, startled, and then started to panic.

"What are you doing?"

You ignored him, trying to think what you'd possibly need to get to stay out tonight. You could get the rest of your things later, but right now you just wanted to get out of that house.

"Y/n, love, what are you doing?" He asked in desperation, reaching your arm and trying to pull you away from the wardrobe, but you just shrugged his touch off.

"What does it look like? I'm leaving, Tom! If you can't conciliate our relationship with your job, then I guess I have nothing to do here anymore". You say through gritted teeth.

"What?!" He breathed out. "Darling, you can't leave like-"

"Don't you fucking call me darling!"

Tom stops and stares at you, blinking. His mouth is agape, trying to get his thoughts together. You didn't stop packing, and when he saw the determination in your actions, he simply couldn't contain the anger growing on his chest.

"Know what? Go. Leave me! Get the fuck out of this house. I don't fucking care!" He yelled, and you jumped slightly at the sound of his guttural voice.

You wiped some of new tears and nodded once, not minding to get anything else as you closed your suitcase and walked out of the room, hands shaking from the emotions you were so hardly trying to refrain.

But before you could step out of the room and go down on the stairs, you turn around to see he stagnant at the same spot. "Fuck you, Tom. You can take all this damn jewelry. Take this, the clothes, and everything else you bought me. If I can't have you, these don't mean a single thing to me. I'm not a fucking doll, Tom".

You left, and he couldn't move for minutes straight.

*********

The night passed by and Tom didn't hear from you. He checked his phone more times than he liked to admit, but you didn't answer any calls, any messages. Nothing. He didn't even realize what time he fell asleep on the couch, waiting for some sort of sign from you, but in the morning, when he rolled out of it, his heart pounded in his chest at the realization that you were nowhere to be seen.

He asked Harrison, his best mate and the second person you most chatted with in the house, if he has seen you, but he didn't have anything. So Tom waited, trying to focus on his work for the morning and the evening, as he thought that maybe you just wanted some time to think clearer. He regretted saying those things to you already, knowing that none of that was true. Obviously he did care if you were there in the morning. He wanted to wake up with you by his side like every other day. It was all that mattered for him after all. Not the money, not the jewel, not the house. It all didn't make sense when you weren't there.

And he felt so sick thinking that you truly believed he was seeing you as a prize, as a doll that would stand beautifully waiting for him at the end of the day. He knew he should have persisted and said that you weren't right, that he loved you so much that he could take a bullet for you, right on his chest. He'd do anything for you, but didn't seem to know how to put that in words when it comes to a fight.

"Fuck!" He shouted when alone in his office, hands collapsing on the desk. It was past seven at night and he hadn't heard from you. A whole fucking day. He asked Harrison to send the men to look for you. He wouldn't force you coming back home, but he needed to be sure you were alright.

All the bad thoughts he could have were now successfully running through his mind and driving him nuts. He thought that maybe some rival mobster could have laid eyes on you, all by yourself, and tried to do something. You could be in serious danger right now, and Tom wouldn't forgive himself if that was the case.

He took a drink. He needed to clear his mind as time was passing by and his men didn't have any information about you. Your phone would be filled with unanswered calls from him, even voicemail telling you he was sorry and would do anything if you only called him back to say you were doing fine.

"Please, love, if you're listening to it... fuck, I'm so fucking sorry. I never intended to hurt you. I'm a dumbass, and you don't have to forgive me, but, please, just let me know you're fine and I'll give you your time. Just- please. I need to hear from you, y/n", he recorded, a drink on his hand and the other holding his phone firmly.

When it was 9pm, he decided he was going out to look for you himself. He just couldn't sit there waiting for a call or for his men do to something - he needed to take that pressure of his chest and no one was helping.

He took his gun, called Harrison and a few more man before heading to the living room.

"Alright, we have a few more places left" Tom started his instructions, while shoving his gun at the back of his trousers. "Harrison and I are going to her family's house. You two check in her old friend's place. Doesn't matter how far it is, I don't want you two to come back until you've looked through that fucking town-"

"Tom", Harrison cut him off, coughing a bit to get his attention. He was about to snap at him, when he followed his gaze.

And there you were, standing at the door frame in the living room, a confused expression on your face as you tried to understand what was going on in the middle of the room. Usually, Tom never had meetings in any other area than the conference room.

"What's going on?", you asked bluntly, and Tom releases a deep and relieved breath, so audible that you couldn't not take notice of.

"God, you're here", he breathed out, walking towards you in large steps. You were still mad, but also so confused with his reaction that you couldn't stop him from holding you tightly in his arms. "Fuck, darling, where were you?".

Besides his words being a bit harsh, his voice was soft and caring, worried if anything. He didn't let go of you first, kissing the top of your head for a long minute.

Harrison smiled a little seeing the both of you and dismissed the men out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

"Sorry, you don't need to explain", Tom shook his head and pulled away to look at you. His eyes were bloodshot and tired, a dark circle around it. He brushed your cheeks with the pad of his thumb and furrowed. "Are you okay, though?"

"Yeah, I am- but what was going on?", you insisted.

Tom cupped your face on his hands, still not believing that you were there again. "I was so fucking worried. I thought that something was off, you didn't answer any of my messages or calls... I was heading to a drive with my men to look for you".

You blink a few times, startled that Tom was so concerned all this time.

"I was in a hotel room, actually", you chew in your lower lip, kind of ashamed that you put him through such a concern. "Needed to be alone for a time, so I turned my phone off".

Tom pressed his forehead against yours. "It doesn't matter anymore, darling. It was all my fault", his voice was croaky and you felt your heart pounding inside your chest. "I should never have said those things to you-"

"It's alright, Tom-"

"No, it's not", he shook his head. "Cause it was all lies. I do fucking care if you leave me. I wouldn't stand being away from you, my love. You're everything, everything. And you're right, I don't spend much time with you, and it eats me alive, cause that's what makes me happy, being around you. All I ever wanted was to make you happy, sweetheart. I'm so fucking sorry if I haven't shown you how much you mean to me..."

"Shhh, Tom", you closed your eyes, hugging him by the neck and bringing him closer. "It's okay, I know it. I wasn't thinking straight too, I know you don't treat me like that. I was just too pissed, and yeah, I'd like to spend more time together, but it's alright that you don't-"

He cut you by a sweet kiss pressed on your lips, "Nothing is more important for me than you. I was too mad with that thing in the restaurant to say it right away, but I'll try harder. I'm gonna be here with you, no matter what. Work can wait".

You sigh and pull him closer, breathing his comforting scent.

"My lovely girl", Tom sighs and smile a bit. "You scared the hell out of me".

"You deserved it, idiot" you said and he laughed quietly.

"I love you, darling", he stroked your back, hiding his face in the crock of your neck. "Always".

"Love you too, Tommy".

You spent the rest of the night together, having a nice and cozy dinner at home. Tom never smiled wider than that night, and the following others were fulfilled with his promise - there was always time in your day to spend alone with your boyfriend.

*******

Taglist:

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[ktffansub]

Bijutsu Techo: Boys Love – Interview: Yoneda Kou

This article was first published in November 17th, 2014. Translated from Japanesse to Bahasa Indonesia by kalengjelek and then translated from Bahasa Indonesia to English by KTFfansub. Source: here

When did you first encounter manga?

I was born in a family with three daughters; while my older sister likes reading Ribbon magazine, I like reading Nakayoshi. It was the era of Asagiri Yuu-sensei, when I was in elementary school. My favorite at that time were Kusunoki Kei sensei’s works and Patlabor. When it came to Shonen, I would say I was more into Shounen Sunday. I also loved Kawaraha Izumi sensei’s works. When I think about it, rather than manga that were full of passion, I’d actually prefer manga that had calm and soothing kind of vibe.

Is that so… What about BL?

When I was in Junior High, my older sister showed me Captain Tsubasa Doujinshi by Ozaki Minami and I was dumbfounded, I thought, “So, there’s also a world like this!”. After that, I started to buy BL manga. At that time, the mangaka who left the most impression to me was Nishi Keikosensei. Her works such as Mizu Ga Koori Ni Naru Toki, Tenshi Ni Naranakya have unique openings, it made me reread them many times. Uida Shiuko (now Kano Shiuko) and Yoshinaga Fumi Sensei are also my favorite mangaka.

When was the first time you draw manga?

I seriously began drawing manga in my first year of junior high. At first, I drew a pair of man and woman, but after page three, I felt something was off. So, I tried drawing BL for the next one. Just like the present, I’ve always loved less expressive and less-talkactive main characters (laughs). But the more I draw, then an attentive senpai with good personality and short haired ones like Togawa in Doushitemo Furetakunai also appeared. At that moment I thought, “Oh, this is it!”

You really weren’t embarrassed, are you? (laughs)

Well, it’s because it was embarrassing, that’s why I’m not really open about my drawing manga activity.

(laughs) But you debut as professional mangaka eventually, how did that happen?

Yes, after that… I worked as office lady. I got married not long after, but then, I was getting through a marriage blues. At that time, I was invested in Kakashi and Naruto shown by my older sister along with Comiket catalogue.

The power of moe beats out your anxiety (laughs)

It’s true (laughs). Escaping from reality, I checked a lot of circles and opened some sites. There I found a work from a novelist (now has debuted professionally) that I really liked. This is why I started writing novel at first, not drawing. I have a lot of ways to accommodate my moe needs. I also once drew Doujinshi but due to my inability to use a proper diction, the result wasn’t optimal (laughs). After drawing slowly and more at ease, I got into Katekyo Hitman Reborn fandom and drew a lot of doujinshi for that series. A year later, I was contacted by Taiyou Tosho publisher.

“With that publisher, Yoneda Kou published Doushitemo Furetakunai which has been adapted into a movie. Since the beginning, Yoneda Kou didn’t draw one-shot but serialization. For the movie, even though it only tells a story of daily lives, but the directing, composition and dialogue are impressive. About 4,5 years later, the second volume of Saezuru Tori wa Habatakanai that had the yakuza neighborhood setting was released. This has completely different feeling compared to Doushitemo Furetakunai.”

My first work was actually published in Drap, so I had it adjusted to be a less-heavy work. That’s why I ended up switching to another magazine.

Was it a demand from the editor?

Of course I only draw what I want to draw. But without realizing, I always draw them to fit the magazine. And it seems like Taiyou Tosho prefers me to draw more simple work.

So, sensei is the type who pays attention to editor’s suggestion. When you wrote the first chapter of Saezuru Tori Wa Habatakanai, did you already want Yashiro to be the main character (for longterm series)?

Right. I didn’t explain it in the first one-shot, but I always believe that no matter how you look at it, Yashiro really loved Kageyama. And (even though he’s drawn like that) he is actually a neko (uke). I think he is an interesting character. When I drew highschooler Yashiro and others, it had been decided that I wanted to write a serialization for this.

And only then the character Doumeki was born?

At that time, the character Doumeki didn’t exist, but I thought very hard about what kind of partner that would be suitable for Yashiro. I took a break from drawing for about two years. I only worked on illustration during that time, until one morning an idea suddenly came to me, “That’s right! Erectile dysfunction!”. I immediately sent an email to my editor: “A perverted impotent man!” (laughs). Afterwards, I finally worked on the first draft.

(laughs hard) Finally, the combination of Yashiro and Doumeki who are the opposite of each other was decided. What an amazing couple that can even make the readers losing sleep.

I do have this particular interest in people’s decision and behaviour resulted from a contrasting relationship that is full of conflicts. Because there are so many characters in Saezuru, I have this excel file compiling the plot for each character chronologically. Otherwise, I would’ve forgotten about it. If I didn’t seriously research (the setting of my own story), I wouldn’t be able to write anything when I made name. But even though I got through it, drawing a family with no blood ties like yakuza was still difficult. If I don’t focus, the story might turn out like Nagara Sakugyou*. That’s why now I’m just focusing on doing Saezuru.

*) nagara sakugyou: other work that being serialized at the same time

Up until now, Sensei has published 5 volumes and all of them have beautiful covers with varied tones.

Actually, the cover color for Doushitemo Furetakunai should’ve looked like red wine, but it seemed like there was an error in printing so the pink was contrasting into it. But it turned out to be good.

Then about the cover for the Saezuru first volume. It’s so impressive! The stepped-on man! All the people around me also had high appraise for this.

Actually, there were so many things happened in the process. By taking the request (it isn’t clearly explained whether it’s from editor/designer) of “Yashiro sitting alone”, I first submitted that illustration to the book designer. However, I couldn’t throw away the idea of Yashiro being stepped on, so, during the next three days I was stressed out. I’ve finally asked them to keep my idea and that’s how the cover of the first volume ended up the way it is now.

I see! For the second volume, it’s totally different, isn’t it? It’s a scenery, but when you do a double take, there are Yashiro and Doumeki!

I always want to give a different vibe in each volume. Actually I’m also a fan of the way Tsumugi Taku-sensei draws scenery.

Hoo-, sensei is a fan of Tsumugi sensei! Talking abough NIGHTS, when you open the cover, there’s a surprise in it!

Yes, if you look at the rough sketches there were 4 pages of picture that were interconnected. In the end, the desainer took picture number two as the cover and number four to put it on the bottom of the back cover. For Soredemo, I didn’t get any guide from the book designer. I combined the the feel of the story with a touch of water paint. At first, I actually wanted to make Deguchi pulling Onoda’s hand to get out of the train, but it ended up looking like Deguchi forced Onoda to stay (with him). So I decided it’s Onoda who’s getting off the train by himself with Deguchi waiting on the platform.

Do you do the coloring with computer? How about the non-colored script?

I use SAI for coloring but for monochrome I usually draw by my hand until the inking, then I do the tone using photoshop.

Do you self-learned drawing?

Well, I at least bought a lot of ‘pose reference’ books often. When it comes to buy things, it feels great, doesn’t it? But when it comes to manga, we draw to tell our moe concept.. well, I love drawing moe concept, but the thing is- I’m not really good at drawing. I like thinking about moe stuff, I also like to combine colors (inside my head) but when I do, I have no desire to draw I, even though that’s the important part. There are often times when I feel like drawing is a handful. In short, I want to draw something that isn’t too troublesome.

But, isnt it because you’re doing manga seriously that it feels difficult?

Because I’m too serious I feel like the story can be boring. Not only the work but also the author (laughs). I often read comments saying my manga is ‘down to earth’. I guess it’s shown obviously in every each of my works

Sure, there are people who think like, “In real world, there’s no way a wakagashira can be as masochist as Yashiro”, but apart from that, Saezuru still gives an impression of it being realistic. In drawing the important men’s arms and muscles in your work, sensei has done your best. Getting into the story, the characters also put extra effort to look elegant. Despite the young age, in a positive sense, sensei’s works feels like having Showa* vibe.

(*SHOWA ERA: 1926~1989)

I’m no longer young, though (laughs). Maybe this is why my works often get called “JUNE”. Especially Saezuru, I think it really fits (JUNE concept).

Are you an organized person?

I’m actually a person who have no chill (laughs). But I have this side of myself who tend to see things as a whole, look at my surrounding then step on the brake. There is also a side of me that is so energetic in creating my own moe that I turn into a selfish person. I guess that’s also my flaw.

It seems like sensei is the type who has her own editorial meeting inside her head (laughs)

I wish it’s not true, but unfortunately, I’m the type of person who is embarrased to admit that I have a relationship with manga. Even until now I have yet told my close friends about this job (as BL mangaka). I’m not that kind of person who like to share or tell others about my moe situation inside my head. When my moe concept is being visualized in public I would scream, “Don’t look! But if you want to read it, I’d be happy”. Yes, I’m that kind of person.

I wonder if sensei’s works are the manifestation of sensei’s own self-contradictions..

[demonicheadcanons]

Undateable headcanons for them being snuck up on by MC while they were talking about MC, like in a I can't tell them I like them or whatever kind of way

MC Hears the Undateables Admit They Like Them to Someone Else

AN: Love this idea! Sorry about the title, I couldn’t figure out how to title this one. If anyone has a better idea let me know!! I tried to keep these relatively short because the first draft of them was way too long ;u;

Edit: I started Diavolo’s a long time ago and only just got around to finishing these now. Sorry for the wait <3

Solomon’s was difficult. I can’t see him confessing his feelings to anyone other than the subject of them, so sorry its kind of off-prompt.

Diavolo

He’d been working late when everyone was over in the castle and you decided to bring him tea and some nibbles to have, reminding him not to overwork himself. Barbatos passes you as you leave, smiling and giving you a nod by way of greeting you.

You pause when you get to the end of the hallway, fishing in your pockets and suddenly realising you’d left your DDD on the tray when you handed it to Diavolo. You’re quick to turn on your heels and head back for it - the brothers messaged often enough, and you wouldn’t hear the end of it if you missed one of Mammon’s calls. It was worth the embarrassment of having to go back in and tell Diavolo you’d left your phone behind than dealing with the headache you’d end up with otherwise.

You’re about to tap the door when Barbatos says your name, and you wonder briefly if he’s just found your DDD and is talking about that, but the tone he was using sounds off. He’s amused, the same tone he used when you scolded one of the brothers and he was trying not to laugh behind a gloved hand.

“You must really admire them,” Barbatos smiles. You peak in through the gap of the door, and see Diavolo with his face in his hands. He lets out a laugh, sitting up straight to grin at Barbatos. Your heart jumps in your chest.

“Of course.” Diavolo’s voice has all the confidence and charm of a natural born leader, but the blush on his face defies it. “I am... very fond of them.”

It didn’t sound like simply admiration, the way he said it, the way his fingers brushed over his mouth and chin thoughtfully before he takes a sip of the tea you’d left for him. He smiles into his cup, and you see him notice your DDD.

“Ah, Barbatos, can you return this to them? And tell them again that I’m very grateful for their presence here.” Diavolo holds up your phone, chuckling at the chocolate lizard charm you still have on it. You face heats up, and you turn on your heels and rush off down the corridor before Barbatos can realise you’ve heard the entire conversation. When he returns the phone to you later, he has a knowing glint in his eyes, but doesn’t say anything other than what Diavolo had instructed him to. You blush and thank him, and wonder what to do now.

[[More under the cut]]

---

You’re at the final ball that will be held in Diavolo’s castle before you have to return to the House of Lamentation when Diavolo himself holds out his hand to you, invites you to dance with him. You accept right away, sitting your glass down and ignoring the glare Mammon and Belphie shoot at you.

You’ve been practicing hard for this dance, and as you twirl around with Diavolo, you see that now-familiar admiration glowing in his eyes. Your gaze darts away and you lick your lips. You have to say something now, he’s going to be busy soon and you have to leave in the morning. This is your last chance.

He notices your nervousness and comes to a stop in the center of the ballroom, allowing the other pairs to continue dancing around you two. You look up at him, smile, swallow.

“I am very fond of you, Lord Diavolo,” you tell him, and watch as he mulls over it, tries to process what you’re actually trying to tell him. It finally clicks, and his eyes widen.

“Ah. You heard my conversation with Barbatos earlier, then?” he asks, face betraying nothing. His fingers twitch against your waist, and he pulls you back into the dance.

“I... I left my phone behind, and I was coming back to get it. I didn’t mean to overhear anything.” You’re starting to feel bad, now. Had you misinterpreted his words earlier? Was it really only admiration he felt for you, because of the changes you’d made for his people and your own? No. There had been something more in it.

The second time you come to a stop, you steel yourself and look up at him, putting as much feeling into your words as you could without choking on them.

“I like you,” you tell him, and he pauses, eyes searching your own. “Do you like me too?”

His expression breaks then, and he looks so relieved and happy you’re almost overwhelmed by it until he sweeps you up into a hug. You can hear Mammon yell somewhere, off to the side, as Diavolo presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I do, MC.”

Barbatos

Barbatos was in the castle’s kitchen when you entered at 6am for a glass of water, the energy of the day still flowing through you and refusing to let you sleep well. You greet him politely and, after getting your water, ask if he needs any help - he seems to be preparing the breakfast for the morning, and there was a lot of it, what with having to prepare for Beel nevermind everyone else.

“Not at all. You are a guest here, MC. I couldn’t possibly ask you to work,” Barbatos smiles. He looks tired, you realise. He usually hid it well, but he seemed to be jumping between washing up and cooking, and his steps had no bounce to them.

You pull on an apron without asking again, and take the rubber gloves by the sink.

“Nonsense,” you tell him. “I’ll do the washing up, you can focus on the cooking. We’ll get it done faster if there are two of us here.”

You end up being right. Aside from the sound of cutlery and pots clanking, the room is comfortably quiet, and when you finish washing the last few pots you turn around and see that Barbatos has a cup of tea ready for you. You accept it gratefully, leaning against the counter beside him as you two drink. You’d never felt so comfortable in silence before, not before you met Barbatos.

You’re quick to leave after thanking him, knowing Asmo will huff if he knows you woke up and left without him. As you leave the kitchen, Diavolo drops in to check that everything is ready. He pats your shoulder as he passes, thanking you for helping Barbatos, and you blush and nod.

You realise that you probably should have helped set the dishes out so that Barbatos didn’t have to keep going between the kitchen and the main hall, and with some time still left before the others are supposed to wake up, you jog back towards the kitchen.

“If you want to tell MC,” you hear Diavolo laugh, and you pause. You weren’t  familiar with that tone and wanted to know what it meant. “I would be delighted to attend your wedding.”

You huff out a startled laugh, and the kitchen goes silent. Barbatos opens the door not a second later, and you don’t know what to do or how to react. You can see Diavolo behind him, who looks between the two of you, amusement and concern warring on his face. You speak without thinking.

“I’m not sure about marriage right away. How about a date, first?”

Diavolo laughs, then, and Barbatos sighs before breaking out into a smile.

“That sounds delightful, MC.”

Solomon

You were supposed to help Solomon prepare dinner for the others at Purgatory Hall today, per Simeon’s request - Simeon promised to take up your cooking duties at the House of Lamentation if you helped Solomon on his days, after having to secretly order in take out every week on the days Solomon prepared his... food? It didn’t feel right to call it that.

You arrive early and let yourself in, familiar enough with the building by now. You could hear loud chatter before you could even get to the kitchen. Simeon, Solomon, and Luke were all talking, and it sounded almost like an argument.

“I just felt like you two could do with spending more time with them,” Simeon says, polite and calm as always.

“I don’t trust you around MC,” Luke says at the same time, and you can easily picture him pouting with his fists balled by his sides from here. You’re silent as you approach the kitchen.

Solomon sighs, and whilst his voice has a teasing lilt to it, he sounds wary. “Luke is right. If I see MC right now I might just ask them out.”

You round the corner then, and pause when you process what Solomon just said. Simeon and Luke see you first, and Solomon lowers his head.

“They’re behind me,” he mumbles, turning around to lock eyes with you. He grins, lopsided and genuine. “What do you say, MC? Why don’t we leave these two and go on a date?”

“We have to make dinner,” you say dully, unsure if he’s joking or not. You’re not sure how their conversation ended up like this.

Solomon doesn’t falter at all, just ushers the other two out of the room. Its the look that Simeon gives you that confirms things for you.

“We can go on that date after, if that’s alright?”

Solomon grins again and throws an arm around you, ignoring Luke’s protests. “I’d love to.”

Simeon

Simeon brings Luke over to the House of Lamentation for movie night, and Luke clings to you half the time, talking excitedly in whispers as he tells you what he’s been up to lately - new recipes he’s trying, his success with one of them which Beel immediately wolfed down, how he got to spend time with Barbatos recently, and so on. You’re listening to him more than the movie up until you decide to take a break and get up to get drinks and snacks for everyone. Luke and Simeon follow, Simeon wanting to help and Luke not wanting to be left with the brothers on his own.

You go into the kitchen on your own, asking the two to stand outside because it was a mess in there from an incident earlier and everyone had abandoned cleaning it until after movie night. You hear faint mumbling outside as you stack up glasses on a tray, but its hard to make out the words.

“You’re having fun getting to spend time with MC, right?” Simeon asks.

“Mmhmm! I have to protect them from those demons whilst we’re here!” Luke says excitedly. You don’t hear what he says next, until he suddenly pipes up with, “You have to tell them you like them so we can convince them to move over to Purgatory Hall with us.”

You drop the glass you’re holding, and it shatters on the floor. The door opens immediately, Simeon rushing in and telling you not to move as he holds Luke back. He grabs a dustpan and you crouch down to pick up the larger shards, face red. You spare a glance at Simeon’s face and see that he’s blushing too, and, unable to hold it in, you start giggling. Simeon starts as well, dumping the glass in the bin. Luke takes the tray with the rest of the glasses, confused by the situation, and you and Simeon lift the bags of snacks and drinks.

On the way back to the common room, you glance up at Simeon, smirking.

“So, when are you going to ask me to move in, then?”

He jolts, surprised, and sheepishly smiles at you. “We can start with a date this weekend, if that suits you?”

“It’ll do for now,” you grin.

Luke

Luke scenario is very similar to Simeon’s, except after he promises to protect you from all the demons, he admits that you feel like a sibling to him. You open the door and hug him around your tray, and from that day forward Luke is your little brother whom you’d do anything for.

[holidaywishes]

a bit of stress relief

  Requested: 👍

  Summary/Request: Can you PLEASE write about Freddie coming to your work and having a quickie in your office

  Warning: smut, fluff, whiny Freddie

  Author’s Note: REQUESTS ARE CLOSED for a bit. I do have one more in my inbox right now so I’ll add it to my drafts but after I write that I won’t be taking requests for... a while. Maybe a month? I have a few series I want to finish up before I start having requests piling up. I always love seeing my inbox full of requests for different types of fics, so this isn’t forever, just until I’m able to finish my Gally series for sure and possibly my 9-1-1 series. This request was fun and I just couldn’t say no lol. Thanks in advance for your understanding and I hope I’ll be able to get back to requests sooner than later but I’ll keep y’all updated! Stay Golden, loves! <3 

  masterlist

  the other masterlist

xx

  Your boss asked you to go into the office on a Saturday to finish an assignment that she had forgotten to mention earlier in the week. You would’ve argued that you had plans but your boss said it was for a presentation the next morning that they needed the information for

  “I’m sorry, Freddie,” you whined to your boyfriend as he tried to convince you to stay at his apartment, “believe me, I’d much rather be here but I’m not about to get fired...”

  “It’s not your assignment, it’s hers,” he argued, “she made the mistake. Why do you have to do it for her?”

  “It’s my job” you admitted

  “Except when it’s not...” he groaned

  “Freddie,” you sighed, “I won’t be long I promise. I just need to go in and print up some stuff and make a couple calls. Nothing major...”

  “So why can’t your boss do it?” he challenged, “it’s her mistake, so.. she should be responsible for fixing it”

  “I know,” you repeated, wrapping your arms around his neck before kissing his cheek, “but I can’t lose this job. I have loans to pay off”

  “You know I can help with that”

  “No,” you scoffed, “no you absolutely cannot. I don’t want to feel like I owe you anything. That’s not the relationship we have... I’m not your sugar baby”

  “But you could be”

  “But I don’t wanna be”

  “Alright...” he laughed, kissing your nose playfully

  “I’ll call you when I’m finished okay. I give it one, two hours tops”

  “If you’re not finished in two hours, I’m coming down there and taking you home” he teased

  “Okay,” you scoffed, “I’ll see you later.” You got to the office and rushed into your boss’s office to find the information you needed to work on. The office was empty, as it should’ve been, but when you heard the door open and close, you popped your out of the door to see who was there, “Hello?” you called

  “(Y/N)?” your co-worker asked

  “Mason? What are you doing here?” you returned, noticing now that a bunch of your co-workers were walking in

  “We could ask you the same thing” he chuckled

  “Laura forgot to do stuff for the presentation tomorrow, so she asked me to come in and do it”

  “For the conference?”

  “Yup”

  “Yeah,” he replied, “our team is having the same issue. Except they’re saying they ‘lost it’ or that it ‘must have gotten deleted somehow’ so now we have to be here all day trying to fix this”

  “Why are any of this people in charge again?” you asked

  “Maybe they slept their way to the top” he joked before waving you goodbye and heading to his station. You started at this company as an intern, mostly handing out mail and grabbing coffee for everyone, but they kept you around because you had a good eye for graphic design which was important in a marketing firm. However, your boss, Laura, had replaced Debra, the former Head of Marketing, a month before you were hired to be her assistant and she really wasn’t all that fond of you. She claimed that your degree should be in Business or Marketing not Graphic Design and that you’d only ever be an assistant in this industry so ‘don’t hope for more than that.’ You didn’t think too much of her comments though, at the end of the day, you had a job to you and you were going to do it well; even if it meant coming in on the weekend to do her forgotten assignments. When you finally found Laura’s papers, you groaned audibly, realizing this wasn’t going to be quick work

  “Hey!” Freddie greeted you from the other end of the line when you called him to let him know what was happening

  “Hey...” you sighed

  “What?” he groaned, “what’s going on?”

  “It looks like I’m gonna be here for a while. Laura underplayed how much work there was for me to do...”

  “You can’t really be doing this?” he whined

  “Babe, I have to. I told you, it’s my job. But,” you added, hoping it would make him feel better, “it’s not just me! Apparently, all the senior staff forgot to do these super important assignments for the conference. So, a bunch of us are here working until we finish them”

  “You need to quit this job,” he grumbled, “clearly no one is good at what they were hired to do”

  “I can’t quit unless I have something lined up,” you argued, “babe, I’m sorry. I know I promised that we’d lay in bed all weekend because this was the first time that you had free time but I have to do this. I promise, I’ll work as fast as I can but the longer I’m on the phone, the longer I’m at the office. So, I gotta go. I love you and I’ll see you as soon as I’m done okay?”

  “Call me and I’ll pick you up,” he replied, “you shouldn’t have to take an Uber back here...”

  “Okay,” you smiled, “that would be nice. Talk soon. Love you”

  “Love you, too” he said before you ended the call. You took a deep breath and started getting to work. Organizing timelines and trying to understand doctors-note-handwriting from past meetings

  “How can she possibly expect me to be able to understand this?” you thought to yourself. You signed onto her computer and were immediately left in shock at the jumbled mess of her desktop, “holy fuck!” you exclaimed silently, it’s no wonder she gets nothing done, “she’s the most unorganized person I’ve ever seen!” You spent the next 20 minutes opening files to find what you were looking for, closing what was not it immediately so you could legally say you didn’t see anything, and then you had to spend the next half an hour printing documents and running back and forth between Laura’s office and the copy room

  “How’s it goin’?” Rob, one of the other team members who was forced to come in and work on a Saturday, asked when he noticed you rushing throughout the room

  “Oh, you know, I’m sure I’ll have a panic attack in the next, oh, twenty or so minutes” you replied, sighing as you walked back to the printer one last time. You had managed to get most of the paper work done but you still had to make a few phone calls to get estimates on some of the ad spaces needed and whether or not there could be a discount involved for the company

  “Hey!” Freddie said gleefully, walking into your boss’ office like he owned the place

  “Freddie,” you gasped, a slight sneer on your tone, “what are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you...” he replied, furrowing his brow at your response, “when you said you were gonna be longer than you thought, I thought I’d come down and surprise you. Maybe take the stress off a little?”

  “That’s sweet, babe,” you smiled, noticing the look in his eyes and realizing what he was really there for, “but I have to make some calls so I can’t... do that”

  “We can make it work” he teased, biting his bottom lip quickly before pulling you close to him

  “Fred...” you whined, kissing him once before pushing him away from you and walking back to Laura’s desk, “I really do have to work. You can sit if you want but that’s it...” he slumped onto the plush couch against the window and frowned before scrolling through his phone as you started to call the businesses on your list. After about 10 minutes, you noticed Freddie peering up from his phone to look over at you, as if he was trying to get you to hang up the phone just from a look, choosing to walk over to you when you didn’t. “Yes, that’s right. I know you’ve been with us for quite some time and our relationship has helped both our businesses grow,” you spoke as Freddie swiveled you and your chair out from the desk, “we want that relationship to keep growing” you continued before noticing the smirk on Freddie’s face as he hovered over you, kissing your neck as you tried to pay attention to the call. “Mhmm,” you said to the person on the other end of the phone, distracted by Freddie’s lips pressing against the sensitive skin on your neck, his hot breath cascading down your neck, “mhm, sure. I understand” you said again, trying not to let on what was happening. “Laura is so sorry she couldn’t make this call to you herself,” you lied, Freddie kissing his way down to your core, pulling off your leggings quickly and kissing your inner thighs as you spoke, “however, she is excited to showcase your work to those at our conference tomorrow. We all just wanted to make sure the numbers were 100% accurate...” you had to bite your lip and move the receiver end of the phone from your mouth in case any sound escaped when you felt Freddie’s tongue finally press against your clit. “Oh that’s great!” you exclaimed when the partner on the phone added a discount to the quote you’d already been given, claiming that, had he known other businesses would be hearing of his services earlier, he would’ve offered it sooner. “Thank you so much,” you smiled, Freddie’s hands pulling your body closer to his him as his mouth brought you closer and closer to your orgasm, “I or Laura will let you know how everything goes. Thank you again” you said quickly before hanging up the phone. “Fuck,” you cursed breathlessly, “oh my god, Freddie!” your back was forced to arch, as you were pretty much falling out of your seat as Freddie continued to stimulate your clit, only now moving his finger to caress your folds before slowly inserted it inside of you and pumping until you whimpered, tugging at his hair. “Freddie,” you squeaked, trying not to be heard from outside the office, “fuck” you repeated quietly, your grip loosening from his hair as his ministrations slowed and your breathing steadied.

  “How’s your stress now?” he smirked, wiping his mouth casually before standing up in front of you once more

  “You can’t do that” you said, small pants escaping your lips, making Freddie believe you less than you intended

  “I think I can” he teased

  “I was on a business call, Fred!” you exclaimed, pulling your leggings back up, “what if they heard something?”

  “They would only hear something if you let them” he countered and, ultimately, you knew he was right but you still shook your head

  “You can’t do that” you repeated and he scoffed, hovering over you once more to taunt you with a kiss but stopped right in front of your lips

  “We’ll see about that...” he smirked, taking his hands away from the chair and walking back to sit on the couch

  “What’s goin’ on with you?” you asked

  “I just want to be with you,” he whined, giving you puppy dog eyes and earning a scoff from you, “that’s what we were supposed to be doing anyway...”

  “I told you we would when I got home...” you said

  “Come here,” he said, patting his thigh, “come sit on my lap” you chuckled but obliged. You wrapped your arms around his neck after sitting on his thigh, playing with his hair and kissing his nose before he spoke again, “see, isn’t this better than making a few phone calls?” he asked, his hand beginning to rub your back lightly

  “You know I would rather be doing this, or more than this, with you,” you admitted, leaning in and kissing him softly, letting your lips linger a moment before you pulled back, “but I have to do this stuff...”

  “Just a quickie...” he whispered, “and then I’ll go. Then we can pick up at home”

  “This is my boss’s office” you whined

  “All the more reason to do it. We’re in a private spot, secluded from everyone else, it’s perfect” he replied, kissing your jaw before moving down to your neck and you let your head fall back to give him more room

  “Mmmm,” you hummed, melting into his kiss, “I can’t”

  “(Y/N)...“ he groaned

  “Just a few more calls,” you argued, “I don’t have a lot left. Just like, five, maybe six”

  “That’s a lot. How long are each of those calls? 10 minutes? 20?” he asked, “we could do a lot with that time...”

  “Stop,” you smiled, standing up from his lap and walking back to the desk chair, “just a few more calls...” you repeated. He slunk into the couch and angrily unlocked his phone while you picked up Laura’s phone and began dialing. You were able to make three calls before Freddie began sighing loudly across the room and you had to glare at him, which is when the texts started

  “I want you” he sent as you spoke to another advertising partner on the phone

  “Like now” another came through

  “I’m gonna come over there”

  “And make you cum again” you glared up at him and he smiled

  “And again” you shook your head, turning off your sound so the partner didn’t hear the constant dinging

  “And again”

  “And again”

  “Until you can’t cum anymore” you noticed him smile as he thought up more responses and you threw a pencil at him, still paying attention to the conversation on the phone before mouthing ‘stop’ to Freddie but he just shook his head with a teasing smile

  “You won’t be able to walk”

  “Your legs will be numb”

  “Your chest will be heaving because you can’t catch your breath”

  “You’re gonna crave my dick”

  “Every time you move”

  “You’ll have to physically stop yourself from jumping me in public”

  “Because you’re still feeling me inside you” your eyes went wide as you read his messages, heat flooding your face as you ended the call, forcing yourself to dial another number before Freddie could get the upper hand. He slowly made his way to the desk once more and you gulped as you swallowed the saliva that had filled your mouth, Freddie hung up the phone before it ever even really began to ring

  “Seriously, don’t...” you whispered, knowing that you were about to break from whatever move he made next

  “But I want to” he growled, grazing your nose with his and you started to give in when he walked toward the door, “crap” you thought to yourself when you thought he was about to leave but he was only locking the door

  “What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, “that was unlocked this whole time?!”

  “Yeah?” he chuckled

  “Freddie! What would have happened if someone walked in earlier?”

  “They would’ve gotten a great show” he replied, walking over to you, leaning over you but not doing anything. You took a deep breath before running your hands up his arms, tangling your fingers in his hair before bringing him down to kiss you

  “We have to be quick...” you whispered, earning a grin from Freddie before he pulled your leggings off and directed your thighs around his waist so he could pick you up to carry you to the couch. You laughed when he sat down and you fell into him clumsily, “quiet” you shushed him before kissing him slowly and trailing your hands down to his waistband, pushing his pants down just enough to free his erection while his hands lifted your shirt up, stopping to massage your breasts. You heard a laugh outside of the office and stopped what you were doing, “wait,” you whispered, “I think someone’s there” he didn’t listen, kissing your neck and lining himself up with your entrance before bucking his hips to yours; your nails digging into his shoulders to stop yourself from making any sound. His hands gripped your hips as he thrust into you, bringing your attention back to him while your lips found each other in a clumsy rush to muffle the sounds of each other’s moans

  “Fuck,” Freddie moaned first, “fuck” you were about to reciprocate his sentiment when the phone rang and your head jerked back in panic

  “Shit” you sighed, worry mixing with pleasure as Freddie continued to grip your hips tightly

  “Ignore it” he said, kissing your peaked nipple over your shirt before moving a hand to your core, but your head still stayed looking at the ringing phone

  “What if it’s her?” you whined, referring to your boss

  “Ignore it” he repeated

  “What if it’s one of the partners or the vendors? What if it’s one of the really important clients?” you asked, knowing he wouldn’t give any helpful advice other than

  “Ignore it” he said once more, pulling your face back to his before kissing you harshly. The phone stopped ringing and you felt a faint sense of peace course through you as you softened the kiss that Freddie had started, your tongue begging for his lips to part, a muffled moan intertwining with his warm breath as it brushed over your exposed neck. Your tongue danced with his for a while as his fingers circled your clit, pressing down on the sensitive flesh every so often

  “Fuck” you breathed finally, now beginning to ride him faster, feeling his thighs flex underneath you as he welcomed the sensation of you crashing onto him. “Fuck,” you repeated, “shit, oh my god. Fuck Freddie” you felt your climax build as his lips met your neck, his finger still working on your clit while you rode him harder; the loud ringing of the phone the only thing that brought you back to where you were. “Ugh” you groaned

  “Leave it” he groaned back

  “Fuck” you sighed, reluctantly ignoring the phone to continue fucking your incredibly broad shoulder boyfriend

  “That’s my girl” he smirked, watching you bounce up and down his length

  “Fuck, Freddie, I’m gonna cum” you panted, your hands clutching his shirt as your hips began to shake. “Sh-i-it, god fuck! Freddie” you moaned, still trying to be as quiet as possible but knowing that everyone in the office was probably putting on noise cancelling headphones just to try to escape the sounds they were undoubtedly hearing.

  “Almost there, baby” Freddie breathed, clutching onto your waist to assist your movements. Fuck, his hands fit so perfectly on your body, you really hated that this had to end so quickly, but that’s what he came here for. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum in you”

  “Fuck” you breathed, dropping your head onto his shoulder, your body taking over until you and Freddie met your release. Like clockwork, the annoying ringing of the phone appeared and you had to scoff at Freddie while you quickly got dressed

  “That was fun,” he smiled, “you sure you don’t wanna go round two?”

  “Hello” you greeted, picking up the phone to continue the work you had come to do, “I am so sorry about that. I’m not sure what was happening with the line…”

  “So we’ll continue this at my place then?” Freddie teased before and you nodded with wink before shooing him away but not before he kissed you goodbye. You were dreading the walk out of the office if Mason and his team hadn’t left yet but you knew it had to happen sooner or later

  “So, should we hire a clean up crew before your boss gets back?” one of the guys teased

  “Shut up” you said, hoping your embarrassment didn’t show too clearly

  “You do know we put on our headphones as soon as we saw him,” Mason admitted, “we knew there’s no way that he was gonna just show up to say hi”

  “He could’ve,” you tried, exhaling when you realized you were never going to fool any of them, “fine. Just, please, don’t rat me out. I just pulled together a miracle in that office and I don’t need Laura finding out about my office sex-capades — I don’t want that to be the reason she fires me. I’m not that girl…”

  “We know” another co-worker smirked

  “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with us,” Mason assured, “it’s a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy as far as we’re concerned” you gave him an appreciative smile before heading out to meet Freddie in the parking garage

  “Hey” he smiled as you sat in the front seat

  “Hi” you replied, leaning over to peck his lips

  “Did you get your work done?” he teased

  “Yeah,” you chuckled, “it was a miracle but I got it done” he took your hand and brought it to his lips to press a kiss to it

  “No more quickies,” he whined, holding your hand for the remainder of the ride, until he needed it for one reason or another, “I need more than that”

  “I agree,” you smirked, “now, let’s go home so you can fuck me until I can’t walk

  “Yes ma’am.”

[selsprompts]

watch your tone

*gif creds to owner*

-> pairing: Tobio x fem!reader (y/n)

-> rating: M for mature, lil sad but it’s s’cute I promise!! (Light angst, fluff and smut)

-> warnings: fingering, hand kink, choking, degrading, spanking, oral (male receiving), technical voyeurism.

-> insight: you’re worried you and Kageyama are having relationship issues so you surprise him at volleyball practice, but he’s not happy about it.

You and Kageyama have always had a healthy relationship, it’s just how you both were. But lately he’s been preoccupied with volleyball, it’s not like you were surprised. At the beginning of your relationship you had established that it was his first priority no matter what. The issue was that it seemed to be his only priority lately.

You would call and text him and he wouldn’t even care to respond and when he did, it was days later and very late, too late for you to respond in the same timeframe.

The fact that you both went to different high schools didn’t help either but being one of the managers of Shiratorizawa had it’s perks, one of them was meeting Kageyama.

You were getting impatient and you were starting to panic. Was Tobio calling it quits? why was he avoiding you so much? did you do something he didn’t like? he was always so observant..

The more your mind pondered the more you started to grow worried. After school you took your usual bus home to Karasuno instead, this would be good, right? Facing the problem head on.

You walked into Karasuno heading towards the gymnasium hoping that Kageyama would actually talk to you instead of just brushing it off like he usually does. 

"Hey Y/n!!” spoke a bubbly energetic voice that could only be Hinata‘s. 

You spun around and politely responded back, Hinata following close beside you.

"So what’re you doing at Karasuno?”

“I just need to talk to Kags before practice, I haven’t seen him in awhile” you said fiddling with your hands approaching the gymnasium.

“yeah I was wondering why you haven’t been around, Kageyama has been acting weird”

Hinata opened the door and you followed behind.

“Weird? What do you mean?”

Before the orange haired boy could respond Suga called out your name catching everyone’s attention... just what you didn’t want.

“Y/N!! WHAT’RE YOU DOING HERE!”

Tobio whipped his head around from the court and looked just as surprised as everyone else... but angry?

After all of the boys spoke to you, you decided to go up to Kageyama yourself. You found it quite odd he didn’t come up to you himself but oh well.

“Hi, Tobio” you smiled, you didn’t dare try to hug him after the attitude he was giving, it just wasn’t gonna happen.

“Hey Y/n, what brings you to Karasuno?” He picked up a vollyball and began to serve right infront of you.

“well I- I just wanted to talk to you. Your not really answering my calls or texts so..”

He nodded.

You looked down at the floor while he kept picking up more ball to serve. It was like he didn’t even care to just.. talk. It was disrespectful and it wasn’t Kageyama at all.

“Kageyama” No response.

“Kaygeyama could you listen to me please” no response.

That’s it, you’ve had enough. All the boys were staring at you now.

“TOBIO KAGEYAMA I AM SPEAKING TO YOU”

Everyone in the gym froze, they all looked at eachother then continued to ignore the fiasco happening.

“Yes Y/n” he turned around and dropped a vollyball.

“Why aren’t you talking to me? Did I do something? And stop calling me that” You said coming closer to him.

“Calling you what? Your real name. What else would I call you?” He bumped into your shoulder heading for the locker rooms, you following close behind.

“Are you kidding me? You seem to be forgetting the fact that I’m your girlfriend, Tobio. You’ve been neglecting me and I don’t like it, that’s not how this works”

He abruptly stopped and spun around to look at you.

“How does it work then? Mm? You get to flirt with Ushijima at Shiratorizawa and then come back to me wanting attention?”

He grabbed you and slammed you against the lockers putting his left knee in between your legs, the heat was building.

“T-tobio what’re you-” He caged his arms with you in the middle.

“You don’t think I see how you act when Ushijima is around? You’re so bubbly and touchy, I’m sick of it”

“Love you know I’d never do that to you, Ushijima just needs to open up to people.. h-he’s not very talkat-”

He moved his knee up pushing against your heat, you subconsciously grinded down on it.

“Mmm... such a bad girl, I think I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson on how to behave”

You nodded eagerly, you missed this.

He pushed your uniformed skirt up rubbed your clit.

“Use your words baby, beg”

“Please- please I want your fingers inside of me Tobio”

He then pushed your panties to the side sliding two fingers in pumping fast.

You began to moan at the stretch, his long fingers curling inside your soaked cunt felt like heaven on earth right now.

“Keep it quiet slut, wouldn’t want all of Karasuno hearing you, or would you?”

He used his other hand to choke you, you moaned at the feeling of being under his control.

He pushed his palm against your clit causing shivers to go down your spine.

“K-kageyama m’going to-”

He started to pick up the pace, you could hear the sounds of your wet cunt around his fingers.

Just as you were about to hit your high, he pulled them out of you. You whined.

“Think I would let you off that easy?”

He picked you up placing you on a bench.

“T-tobio I’m sorry if I-”

He unzipped his pants and grabbed the back of your head.

“Stop talking for once pet, if you want to make it up to me, do as I say. Now, suck my cock”

“Yes sir” you responded taking his member out of his pants.

You peered up to look at him, he was smirking. Kageyama knew damn well what he was doing and dammit it was working.

You kitty licked the tip a few times before he pulled your hair. You took that as your single to take him whole.

“Mmm fuck just like that”

You bobbed your head up and down his shaft using your hands for whatever you couldn’t reach.

“Alright baby I think it’s time for me to take control again” he pulled himself out of your mouth and grabbed your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

You knew what this meant, it was his favourite.

“Ready?”

“Yes”

He rammed his cock into your mouth fast and painfully. He kept a pace that made his thighs tremble.

“F-fuck you’re such a good girl Y/n”

You were choking and gagging, you started to see stars.

“Look at you, crying all over my cock. Such a good pet”

He finally pulled you off and you gasped for air.

“Get up and take your panties off”

You practically ripped your panties off waiting for his next move. He grabbed you by your hips and you jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist.

“So eager?”

“Please Tobio- put it in me already”

“Only because you asked so nicely baby”

And in one quick thrust he was inside you. He was ramming into you like he had something to prove; and it was insane.

You were a moaning mess for several minutes before he pulled out completely and pulled up his pants.

“Wh-what’re you doing Tobio?”

“I have practice. We can finish this later when you’re a good girl” he smirked and walked away. The bastard.

He turned around to say something else.

“And Y/n, watch your tone”

Before you had a chance to say anything else he left the locker room without another word. I mean hey, at least your on good terms now.

-

I haven’t written in so long so take this from my drafts xx

[yamag00ps]

Tsukishima: 6, You: 5

pairing: tsukishima x reader

genre: friends to lovers, work relationship

contains: fluff

word count: 2.4k

summary: Being friends with Tsukishima Kei was essentially just a competition of who could get the last word.

a/n: this was really fun to write!!!! now where are my bitches who love the i hate everyone but you trope <3<3<3 enjoy :-)

"This idea was yours, you know?"

A voice spoke up behind you as you looked into the updated exhibit. You couldn't quite read his tone. You looked over your shoulder to see Tsukishima Kei standing behind you, playing with the cuffs of his button-up. You turned back to the exhibit before answering.

"Ah. You see, I was starting to think I just manifested it into existence."

"Yeah, I kept hearing this nagging voice in the back of my head for the past two weeks. Funny, you sound just like it."

The offended look on your face disappeared as he walked up next to you with a small smile on his face.

A month ago, you started your new job as a new tour guide at the local history museum. Tsukishima was one of the exhibit designers. Although you were only a tour guide, you were always vocal about your opinions on the displays and layouts of the different exhibits to your co-workers, hoping to work your way up to his position. Tsukishima would overhear these conversations and initially be irritated until he realized that your critiques were actually quite useful. You began to notice your own suggestions coming to life in the exhibits. On this particularly slow day at the museum, Tsukishima surprisingly sparked a conversation with you first.

"Tsukishima Kei. Exhibit designer." He held a hand out to you with a glint in his eyes. You bit back a smile and shook his hand.

"L/N, F/N. Tour guide. Future exhibit designer." His eyebrows raised in amusement.

Tsukishima Kei: 0, You: 1

This was only the start of your unique friendship with Tsukishima Kei.

The next six months consisted of many exchanges of ideas, lingering gazes across exhibits, late nights at the museum, and constant banter. It was always a competition of who could get the last word.

Despite your love-hate relationship, you were very supportive of one another. Tsukishima would honestly ask for your input when drafting layouts and frequently joined visitors on your tours. During the tours, he pretended to hate whenever you would call him out in the crowd for designing a certain exhibit (he would never tell you, but he appreciated it every time).

"This particular exhibit was actually designed by that tall, handsome man in the back, Mr. Tsukishima Kei! If you have any questions I'm sure he'd love to answer them." You winked at him every time.

Tsukishima Kei: 0, You: 2

He stated that he only joined your tours because he wanted to hear what visitors had to say about his work, which was partly true. But, even more than that, he enjoyed adored watching you in action. He found your passion and enthusiasm endearing and calming, especially on stressful days. The two of you grew close as you worked—always taking breaks at the same time and staying after to leave together. Despite the teasing and the banter, both of you cherished this unique friendship dearly.

As the time passed, it seemed that your hard work and ideas did not go unnoticed, as you were finally offered an exhibit designer position! The director called you in early that morning to meet with you and formally offer you the promotion. As you walked out of her office, your hands were already fumbling to call the only person that came to mind.

"Hello?"

“Morning! You’re late.”

“My train was delayed. Wait, don’t you have the night shift?”  

"I, uh, lost my tour guide position.” Tsukishima stopped in his tracks.

“..What?”

“Yeah, kinda bummed. I was pretty good at it, don’t you think?”

He couldn’t understand your tone. He wouldn’t admit it, but he hoped you’d be at least a little more upset that you wouldn’t be working together anymore.

“Y-yeah. Wait. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Time for me to move on to better things, you know?” Ouch.

“But-”

“Hey, Kei? Exhibit designer to exhibit designer, are we supposed to be rivals now?" He could practically hear the smile on your face.

Tsukishima Kei: 0, You: 3

At that exact moment, Tsukishima walked through the entrance of the building. Your eyes met and he hoped you didn’t notice the wave of relief washing over him.

“You’re an idiot,” he stood at the entrance, still talking to you on the phone.

“I believe the correct term is exhibit designer,” you mused.

"Oh god, no.." he groaned, slowly walking up to you with a smirk on his face. “Oh, yes,” you fired back. Unable to contain your excitement any longer, you hung up the phone and ran to him, stopping in front of him abruptly. He cocked a brow, waiting for you to explain as you held your hands behind your back.

"Sooooo.. I guess the director liked my ideas and..um, you know. Thought I’d be a fantastic fit or something," you shrugged nonchalantly, "You know, no biggie, it's whatever." Your efforts to hide the giddy smile on your face were useless. His smile mirrored yours, growing bigger and bigger with every word you spoke. You raised your eyebrows, awaiting his reaction.

He shook his head and marveled at you. I always want to see you this happy, he thought.

Tsukishima Kei: 0, You: 4

He stayed silent, wanting to see how long it would take for you to start pouting. He lived to drag reactions out of you. But this time, the look on his face ratted him out. His eyes softened as he took you in. Ever since the day you met, he found that this happened often. The walls he built to shut people out were no match for the sound of your voice, the feel of your head on his shoulder, or the endearing smile on your face whenever your eyes met his from across the room. He was putty in your hands and you didn’t even know it.

"Well?" You poked his chest, becoming impatient. He chuckled and grabbed your hands, pulling you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his waist as he buried you into his chest.

"You loser. You're amazing,” he sighed and rested his chin on the top of your head. “I mean, I’m not surprised. But I'm really proud of you.” He paused. “But don’t scare me like that,” he mumbled. Your heart warmed at his sincerity.

"Aw, Kei, you're hugging me,” you cooed and held him tighter. You tried to move back to look up at him only for him to push your head back into his chest.

"Yeah, I just don't want to see your face when I'm saying nice things to you.”

"Tsk," you swatted at his arm but snuggled into him anyway. “You know what? I’ll take it. Thank you, Kei.” He kept an arm hooked around you and used his free hand to lightly flick the top of your head.

"Alright, get to work you two! Y/N, congrats on the promotion." The museum director passed by, giving both of you a knowing smile. You quickly stepped away from each other as you thanked her with a pink tint on your cheeks. You began to turn away from Tsukishima until he grabbed your hand.

"We're getting dinner later."

"Oh, we don't have t—"

"I want to. Now, come on. Can't have my co-exhibit designer slacking off on their first day," his tone attempted to be stern as he pulled you towards the staff room.

"You really are so sweet," you teased but happily followed anyway.

"Shut up."

Tsukishima Kei: 0, You: 5

Now, you were sitting across the same man you love to hate at your favorite restaurant.

"I have an idea." The dumb smirk you've grown to love appeared on Tsukishima's face. You loved when he was like this. His playful demeanor was a stark contrast to his usual stoic expression. You had the two glasses of wine to thank for that.

You raised an eyebrow telling him to go on.

"I think this celebration calls for some free dessert," he leaned in to tell you this as if he was letting you in on a secret.

"What do you mean free?"

He grabbed your hand resting on the table.

"I'm going to borrow this." He started pulling off one of your rings.

"Wh—"

"Shhh, just go with it." Keeping your hand in his, he moved off of his seat and knelt down in front of you. Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets as you started whisper yelling at him to get up. This worked to his advantage as your shock only made it look more real.

"Oh my god. Kei, no," you tried to say sternly as you leaned down to him, but the alcohol in your system threw you into a fit of nervous giggles. You looked around the restaurant in a panic, hiding your face in your hands until he pulled one down and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

The pure amusement on his face contrasted with the sincere look in his eyes. The blush on your face boosted his ego more than he cared to admit.

You attempted to scold him again. “Tsukishima Kei, if you don’t get up right n—“

To your dismay, your waitress came over to your table and gasped at the scene unfolding in front of her. One by one, everyone’s attention turned to the blonde-haired man down on one knee. Tsukishima dropped his head and laughed, trying to hide the blush on his face. He cursed under his breath. Fuck. Suddenly the alcohol was wearing off. What has he done?

You lifted his chin up with your free hand, forcing him to look up at you again.

“You better put on a show for them,” you challenged him, knowing he hated this kind of attention. He noted the proximity between your faces and the way you squeezed his hand as a form of reassurance. The sparkle in your eyes was all it took for him to collect himself again. The people near you began shushing everyone else around them.

Well. Now or never, he thought. This will be easy.

He took a deep breath as you looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to chicken out.

“L/N, F/N. I fell for you the moment we met.”

Oh.

Tsukishima Kei: 1, You: 5

Your heart clenched at his words, but you quickly shook the feeling. This was just for a free dessert, right?

“Oh, really now?” You thought back to that moment and snickered under your breath, only for him to hear. He squeezed your hand, silently telling you to shut up. This only made you giggle more.

“You are my light. My life only works with you in it,” he announced.

Your breath hitched. Now that shut you up.

Tsukishima Kei: 2, You: 5

“I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you make me."

Tsukishima Kei: 3, You: 5

“I love you. Your wit, your humor, your passion, your drive.. your kindness. All of it.”

Tsukishima Kei: 4, You: 5

“That’s enough,” you whispered and started shaking your head. You knew this was just for show, but why did hearing his words set a fire in you? Why was your heart aching?

“I fall in love with you more and more everyday. I’ll fall harder tomorrow and even harder the day after that. Please give me all of your tomorrows. Please marry me.”

Damn, he was good.

Tsukishima Kei: 5, You: 5

Your eyes began to water. Where was this coming from? Is he actually that good of an actor? Your expression was a mixture of confusion, shock, and a hint of irritation. Unable to comprehend any of your feelings, you shook your head and remembered that you had to play along for that goddamn dessert.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes!” you nodded, trying not to look too enthusiastic about this fake proposal. Everyone around you erupted into cheers, the flash of numerous phones and cameras blinding you. Tsukishima put the ring on your finger and chuckled as he stood up and pulled you in for a hug, leaving a kiss on your forehead. You laughed into his chest at the insanity of it all.

“I’m sorry if that was t—“ Whatever he was saying was cut short by the crowd around you.

“Oh come on, give her a real kiss!” “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” “Kiss her!”

You groaned and felt his laughter erupt through his chest. Pulling back to look at him, you shook your head in disbelief. He lightly held onto your waist and pulled you close, his forehead resting onto yours.

“We really don’t have to, not if it makes you uncomfortable,” he assured you.

“Pft, you’re not the only one who can put on a show,” you quipped. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the alcohol—whatever it was, you surrendered to it as you pulled him down by his collar and crashed your lips into his. You tasted the wine on his lips, savoring every second in case you would never get the opportunity again. After a few seconds, you began to pull away only for him to attach his lips onto yours again. One of his hands cupped your face while the other gripped your waist, not wanting you to pull away just yet. You matched his fervor, losing yourself in him.

The cheers in the restaurant quickly brought you back down to earth as you pulled away and hid your face in his chest again. He chuckled and rubbed the sides of your arms, soothing you. You pulled back to look at him with a small smile on your face.

“So you do know how to be nice to me,” you gushed, breaking the tension.

“I am nice to you!” He scoffed.

“Yeah but not that nice,” you teased, pulling him down to you again. Tsukishima shook his head and left a kiss on your cheek.

“You kissed me first,” he reminded you, mumbling against your cheek.

“Hm.. Guess you’ll just have to kiss me first next time,” you gave him a quick peck. Before he could pull you in again, your waitress arrived with two pieces of chocolate cake with the words Congrats! drizzled on the plate next to a heart. You pulled away from him to thank the waitress and the people around you, allowing them to go back to their meals. He pulled your chair out for you, ignoring the smug look on your face.

Before taking his seat, he leaned down and murmured against your ear, “There better be a next time,” leaving you a blushing mess.

“Next time” ended up being an hour later against the front door of your apartment. From then on, there were a lot of “next times.”

Tsukishima Kei: 6, You: 5

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

a/n: wait and then in the future after you two actually get married, you end up have two “wedding” anniversaries hehe and he always makes sure to celebrate both but he’ll never admit that he highkey loves celebrating the fake one more than the real one because it was such a sweet memory :p AW tsukki

[bobathots]

smokescreen

i wrote the first draft of this in a lust-fueled haze in less than 24 hours a few weeks ago and then i watched a movie where tem was just absolutely off the rails h word and my brain went “haha smoking kink go brrrrr again” so literally this is just an excuse for boba to smoke. @jon favreau give him a cigarette u coward mob boss! boba/female reader. smut 18+  ~10k tags: pwp, smoking, oral sex, shotgunning, at one point u give boba a blowjob while he smokes also on ao3

He wasn’t expecting anyone — or at least, he wasn’t expecting you , that much was clear from his body language. You weren’t even sure it was him until you got close enough to see the dim streetlamp cast a familiar shadow across his face, until you could make out his staple leather jacket wrapped around his form. The tip of his cigarette stood out cherry-red in the evening light, hanging loosely between his index and middle finger.  He tensed and turned his head as you approached.

“Boba!” You kept your voice light and even; you didn’t know how to talk to the man at work, much less in a situation like this. You hadn’t exactly expected to come across him in the middle of the night, in a dark alley situated neighborhoods away from where you both worked. But, then again, it wasn’t as if this was part of your normal schedule.

He dipped his head toward you in greeting, then brought his hand up to his face to take a drag from his cigarette. Your gaze remained transfixed on the motion, how he rested his index finger on his tip lip while his hand remained splayed, as if he was trying to hide the action. You spoke before you could think, the words tumbling out of your mouth, “I didn’t know you smoked.”

His inhale sounded like a sigh. Dropping his hand back to his side, he courteously turned his head away from you and exhaled billows of ash-grey smoke from his mouth. “Meant to keep it that way, too.” Oh. You winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

He shook his head as if to waive away your concerns. “Don’t. I’m the one smoking outside in public.”

“At midnight,” you added, knowing that he probably chose this time and place specifically for privacy. Privacy that you were now infringing upon.

“...At midnight,” he echoed, the beginnings of a wry smirk on his lips.

The conversation died out there, but you remained standing next to him, casting your gaze out onto the buildings. Distantly, you could make out drunken conversations from the surrounding busy streets so filled with nightlife, mixed with the occasional prickle of Boba puffing his cigarette. A cool breeze swept through the leaves and across your skin, causing goosebumps to pimple out in response. You hugged yourself tightly, palms wrapped around your bare arms, as if you could chase away the evening chill.

“Speaking of midnight —” You glanced back at Boba; he pinched the end of his cigarette between thumb and forefinger and dropped it to the ground, crushing it underfoot with his heel, “— you shouldn’t be out alone this late.”

“It’s not so bad in this part of town.” It felt weird having your boss express concern for you, as subtle as it was, even if it was in his nature to take care of his own , as he put it. You figured you were more like a blimp on his radar; it wasn’t like you were a crucial employee. You hardly ever needed to interact with him at work. “The streets are always lit,” you continued, “and always crowded.”

“Right. Which is why you decided to go down a dark alley in the middle of the night.”

Heat rose to your face. “Because I thought I saw you!”

He let out a sound which might have been a chuckle — god, it was so hard to tell with him — and he pushed off the building he had been leaning against. “Let me walk you home, then. An apology for causing you to make a stupid decision.”

You can’t tell if he’s being mean on purpose, but regardless, you didn’t want to impose on him. “Boba, it’s okay, there’s no —”

“Start walking,” he ordered. His voice was stern, commanding; the tone he took when giving instructions at work, and that meant there was no room for argument, no wiggle room to barter or bargain. The words yes, sir sat on your tongue, burgeoning with desire, but you swallowed them down back to the pit of your stomach where they belonged.

Another breeze blew in. You shivered, both from the temperature and from Boba’s intense presence, but finally nodded in acquiescence. “It’s not far,” you assured him, turning to walk back the way you came. “Maybe like five minutes or so.” Then, something heavy and warm draped itself over  your shoulders and you paused, turning back once more to look at Boba.

A now jacket-less Boba.

“I...oh. Um. Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it.” He kept walking the direction you set out, leaving you to play catch-up. You took a moment to slide your arms through the sleeves, and it thrilled you to find out just how much extra fabric hung past your hands. Even bunching it up at the wrists caused it to slide down from how loose the jacket sat on your body, so you simply clutched the hems in your palms to keep the fabric from slipping over your fingertips. The rest of it draped over you, his frame much larger than yours, and you felt weirdly protected in his jacket. It smelled like leather and faintly of cigarette smoke, but most importantly it smelled like him, a scent you had no other words for. It was the same smell that lingered in his office long after he’d left, something masculine and oddly comforting. Wearing your boss’ jacket was like being wrapped in a second-hand hug, and you were ashamed to admit how much you liked the idea.

You had to do a little jog to catch up to Boba. Maybe it was the night air, or maybe it was the fact that you had genuine one-on-one time with the man you’d been admiring for so long, but you were suddenly emboldened to nose into his personal life. “So...am I allowed to ask why you don’t smoke with the others?” The “others” you referred to were a sizable group of Boba’s underlings that you often noticed smoking together by the backdoor. 

“Not a social smoker.”

You wouldn’t call Boba a social anything , to be honest. “Okay, so why not in your office? I mean, you spend a lot of time alone there anyway.” You would have remembered if he kept an ashtray or a pack of cigarettes anywhere visible, and his office never smelled like smoke.

Silence stretched out between you. You thought maybe he was done with your invasive line of questioning — after all, this was the first “real” conversation you had had with him that didn’t involve work-related topics — but he spoke up after an elongated pause.

“It’s a nasty habit I can’t kick. I try not to indulge if I can help it.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Boba almost sounded embarrassed at having a vice. “My turn to ask a question.”

“Hm?”

“There a reason you’re leading me through back alleys instead of taking the main streets?” He cast a sidelong glance at you, and even with the glint from the streetlamps you couldn’t place whatever subtle emotion danced in his gaze.

“Oh, uhm. It’s just a faster shortcut,” you said, hesitating despite your honesty. “I...normally don’t feel safe enough to do this at night, but…” The implied since you’re here hung heavy in the air between you. You drew his jacket tighter around your body, relishing in the shield it provided against the chilly evening air.

Seemingly satisfied with your explanation, Boba lapsed into silence beside you. You lead him around a corner and stopped at the base of a sloping hill, turning to face him. “Um, the house I’m renting is just up the road from here,” you started, nerves sitting at the base of your chest. The thought of Boba — your boss , who you were crushing on hard — knowing where you lived? It was almost too much to bear, because you were certain you’d do something stupid like invite him in for a drink, which would naturally lead to you into shamelessly begging him to do unspeakable things to you. You couldn’t. 

Instead, you shrugged off his jacket, internally mourning the loss of warmth and security it radiated. “Thanks again. And thanks for walking me home.”

Boba acknowledged you with a slight dip of his head as he pulled his jacket back around his own shoulders. You gave him what you hoped was a natural and normal smile that didn’t let your nervousness show, and turned to walk up the long sidewalk that led to your ramshackle house.

His gaze burned on your back the entire time, only letting up when you unlocked the door and stepped inside the safety of your home.

The second time had to have been a coincidence, an alignment of your schedules, because you found him at the exact same spot at the exact same time a week later. The only difference was that this time, he was grinding out a cigarette and raising a zippo to light another in the same moment.

You never took him for a chainsmoker.

“Boba —”

“What did I say about walking alone at night?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, necessarily, but neither was it condescending or patronizing. It was almost concerned, if you could call it that.

“I only have the same excuses as last time,” you admitted. He made that noise again, the little huff you’d taken to mean he’s amused, and your chest did a funny little skip in response.

“Means I’m responsible for walking you home again, then.”

“I - no! Not if it’s some sort of imposition. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“I’m sure of that, kid. But,” he paused to inhale, and deeply: his chest visibly expanded to fill out whatever room was left in his leather jacket, and he held it there for a beat, savoring the burn, before he breathed out in one fell swoop. “I’d like to see you safe with my own eyes.”

The white smoke obscured his gaze for just that moment, and all you could see was the bright burning end of his cigarette like a wine stain on a white tablecloth, like a gunshot wound through a white shirt.

You swallowed thickly. “Y-yeah, okay. Thanks, Boba.”

Something like gratitude settled over your shoulders, but there was also something else there, something you didn’t know how to describe. It meant enough to your lovesick heart to know that he cared , at least in some capacity, about your well-being. Enough to walk you home twice .

Even when Boba looked away, gaze on some distant point down the alley, you couldn’t keep your eyes from him. He looked so good , so imposing at all times, and the cigarette only helped add to his appeal. He was every bit like an intimidating mob boss, like he might decide to put his cigarette out on some thug’s eye for mouthing off — and you were only a little ashamed to say that the mental picture made you want to squirm.

At the same time, you could tell there was a different edge to him tonight. Something more coiled and tense, like he had a bundle of energy he needed to burn off and burning a cigarette was the closest he could come.

If he had been savoring it that first night, he was flat out devouring it now. It was aggressive, in a way; how he’d barely let his lungs take in a full breath of oxygen before he filled them with nicotine and tar again.

“You smoke?”

His voice startled you from your thoughts, bringing you clear back to the current moment. “N-no. Why?”

“You keep staring. Made me wonder if you wanted a puff.” He had caught you red-handed in your shameless oogling, and you supposed you should’ve felt embarrassed, but you were too enraptured with the way he spoke with his cigarette hanging from his lips, how the smoke leaked out in little wisps with every word. Deftly, he thumbed the filter to flick ash from the butt and immediately brought it back to his lips again. Your eyes followed every movement. “But it’s a good thing. Don’t start.”

“I hadn’t planned on it,” you said, which was the truth — the truth that existed before you knew Boba was a smoker, anyway. It wasn’t like you had a craving to smoke for smoking’s sake. Instead, you wanted to taste from the same filter that sat in Boba’s mouth, imagining it stained with the imprint of his lips; you wanted to inhale the same smoke that he exhaled and pretend that you were sharing breaths like lovers, or fuckbuddies; you wanted to kiss him and taste the nicotine on his tongue —

— but he was your boss, and a good deal older than you, and he’d never be interested in the first place. Instead, you had resigned yourself to watching him in the act with the hopes that you didn’t give off creepy vibes and that he’d fire you. It’d be best if you could turn your mind away from more unsavory thoughts, you decided. You would rather be a friend to him than someone he cast aside. You figured his stress came from the current negotiations between him and a potential business partner, but said partner was well-established in this area and, to the best of your knowledge, kept raising their “prices.” You didn’t know much about it because it simply wasn’t your job to know, but word did get around. “Are the talks not going well?”

He let out a derisive snort. “Hardly.” He exhaled and smoke escaped through his nostrils, giving him the momentary impression of a dragon. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“It’s just…” You paused to search for the right words. “You seem very stressed. I thought it might be because of that.”

Boba grunted in response. He held his little nub of a cigarette between forefinger and thumb as the smoldering end continued to eat away at the filter. For a moment, it seemed like he was honestly considering trying to finish it off, but then he breathed out a quiet sigh and tossed the butt to the ground. 

“....So it’s a stress thing, then, huh? The reason you smoke?”

Boba crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his full weight against the building behind him. “Supposed to be,” he answered. “But then I got addicted.”

“You picked up smoking to cope with stress?” You couldn’t keep the incredulity out of your voice if you tried. Your response to stress was just to cry, something arguably way healthier than what Boba was currently doing.

He breathed in deep, then out, and caught the tail-end of a worrisome cough as he exhaled. “Stress used to make me angry,” he explained, taking a moment to clear his throat. “When I was younger, I picked a lot of unnecessary fights, broke a lot of bones.”

“Yours?”

“And others’.” You didn’t miss the uneven slant of his mouth, the slight grin he wore at the admission, as if he was proud . “But it was a dangerous outlet, so I found something else.”

“Like smoking is any less dangerous,” you pointed out.

“A cigarette kills slower than a bullet, kid. And besides, you’re...what, half my age? Maybe more?” He lifted himself off the building and beckoned you to follow him with a jerk of his head. “I’ve been smoking longer than you’ve been alive. There weren’t many other options beside violence or drugs when I was younger.” “Oh. I’m...I’m sorry,” you said lamely, not really knowing how else to respond. “Don’t be.”

He was leading you home, you realized with a start, both amazed and terrified that he remembered the route you showed him exactly once. As you walked, you stayed close to his side; the evening was no less chilly, and even though you were wearing a thin windbreaker of your own, you were still cold. Boba radiated body heat, and you tried to soak up some of his without being in direct contact with him.

“You don’t look stressed,” you offered after a minute of companionable silence. 

He turned to look at you fully, an obvious cue to continue, but his unwavering attention made you nervous, and you started to blabber. “I-I mean, like… just in case you were worried that you were projecting the wrong image. Whenever I see you on base I just think you look so cool and intimidating, so even if these talks are stressing you out, it doesn’t show, and you still look as powerful and scary as ever, and so —”

“Thanks.” His voice made you shut up instantly , though there was no harshness or anger behind his tone. You were glad that he stopped your rambling; you were certain that if you had continued, you would’ve said something you couldn’t come back from.

You stopped at the same place last time, at the base of the hill, and turned to Boba with a slight smile. “Well, thanks again —”

“No, kid.” His hand fell to the small of your back, so big and solid and warm , and for a moment your brain short circuited as you tried to process the contact. “I said I wanted to see you safe with my own eyes. I’ll walk you to your door.”

“Uhh, y-yeah, okay. Yeah. Good. Sounds good to me.” To your surprise, as you started walking again, Boba’s hand remained a constant on your back. Were he any closer, you could pretend he had his arm slung around your waist as if he were a lover, or your boyfriend, your partner — but, desperately, you attempted to put a stop to those thoughts. They were all fantasies, anyway, unreachable things that you were never meant to hope for.

You stopped in front of your house steps. They were shoddy and showed more tear than wear, and the building clearly needed some love and care. It was, however, home , for the foreseeable future.

“Um, this is me,” you said awkwardly. Boba’s hand finally fell from your back, unfortunately not stopping anywhere on the way down, and he glanced up to take in the state of the building. You couldn’t tell if he was impressed or not — his expression was virtually unreadable — and you didn’t want to imagine what he was thinking, or what information he could extrapolate about you based on your residence. “I wanted to say thanks for walking me home. Again.”

“You shouldn’t be walking alone in the first place,” he said in lieu of acceptance, his brows furrowing ever-so-slightly.

“I know, I know, just —” You shuffled awkwardly, half-wanting him to leave, half-wanting to invite him to stay. “Thanks.” You hoped it was obvious that you weren’t just thanking him for seeing you home, but for sharing pieces of himself with you, for allowing you to see the bits of himself he never showed at work.

For a moment, his eyes seemed to look you over, top-to-bottom. He dipped his chin slightly in response. “Get some rest, kid.”

And then he was gone, the phantom touch of his hand hot and heavy on your back.

You formed a ritual together after that.

You’d meet him at the same place every week, always around midnight, and he’d smoke while you had an easy conversation. He smoked depending on his mood: sometimes, it was just one cigarette, enjoyed slowly, the stick held between his fingers more often than his mouth. Other times, he’d smoke multiple in quick succession, never more than three, but always with a sense of quiet urgency, like he wanted to finish them as fast as possible. He’d usually smoke them down to nothing, too, leaving barely anything left to count as litter.

Consequently, you grew closer to him than your schedule at work would ever have allowed. Some nights, the conversation would stick to work or work-adjacent topics. Other nights, you’d talk about more personal things, like when Boba revealed how his father died and you stepped in to overshare about your own sob-story childhood — but no matter the topic, there was a general acknowledgement that your relationship had Shifted, with a capital s . The dynamic between you two was no longer strictly boss and employee, but neither was it just a friendship. It was something precarious, dangling over the edge, desperate for something to disrupt it.

And you were desperate to keep it there. Sure, Boba had gotten a little more physical with you in the sense that he always had a hand or an arm touching you as he took you home, and maybe he gave you his jacket more often than not these chilly evenings, but otherwise he was still...Boba. Still kind of hard to read, still a little emotionally closed off, and most definitely not into you. It sucked, but you had learned to be content with the crumbs you got, and it came with the added bonus of having a secret together that no one else at work knew about. It wasn’t scandalous, or taboo, but it definitely felt a little gratifying knowing that you got to see a side of the boss that most everyone else wouldn’t know existed.

Your weekly meeting was a ritual. A sacred thing.

Until it wasn’t.

One night, Boba simply wasn’t there .

His silhouette was missing . There was no figure leaning against the building, there was no cherry-red glow of cigarette embers, there was no one.

You checked your phone: just a little past midnight. Was he sick? Or busy? He had your number for work-related reasons, so surely he would have texted you if —

But why would he? It wasn’t like this was anything serious , right? It wasn’t a meeting he needed to cancel, or a failed date you could excuse your way out of. This was just… a thing . A repeated thing with a date and a time and a place, sure, but…

Nonetheless, you found yourself drawn to your phone, the screen casting a soft blue glow across your face as you waited for a notification to pop up over your messaging app. You wouldn’t call yourself a romantic, but surely expecting a courtesy message wasn’t beyond whatever little ritual you had going on, right? At least, as your employer, he could treat it like —

A hand grabbed your shoulder. On reflex, you twisted around and flailed your arm wildly, hoping to hit whatever would-be assailant in a place that would hurt.

He caught the fist you carelessly slung in one broad hand, his fingers wrapped around your wrist tight to hold it in place.

“ Boba! ” you gasped, both relieved and irritated at the same time. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

  He let your hand slide from his grasp, and if you were in the right mind to pay attention, you would have noticed how he purposefully let his fingertips ghost longer on your skin, how they ran from your wrist to fingers instead of dropping away outright. “Don’t stand oblivious in an alley. At least keep moving if you’re alone.”

You slid your phone back into your front pocket. “I was waiting for you . I didn’t think you were coming.”

At that, he raised an eyebrow ever-so-slightly. “Wasn’t aware I could be late.”

And, well — he was right. This was his thing, after all, his late-night smoke break that he just happened to be so kind as to let you participate as a spectator. Of course he could change his mind, of course he wouldn’t think to let you know. It was your fault for getting attached and thinking it was something more —

“You should stop walking alone so late at night.” Boba was close , you realized. The brief panic earlier had drawn you two together and you hadn’t parted very far, your chests merely inches from each other. It was closer than you had ever been to him before, at least face-to-face, and as a consequence he spoke quieter, his voice coming out as more of a husky rumble than an actual vocalization.

“I’ll stop when you stop smoking,” you countered, your mind too focused on your proximity to Boba to filter your words properly. You were worried he might pick up the true meaning, that it was the act of Boba smoking that lured you to him each week, but instead he huffed out a chuckle.

“We’ll see about that, princess.”

Princess . That was... oh . It sounded like a proper pet name, and the realization made a rush of heat go to your face.

“P-princess?” you finally squeaked out. “Really?”

“You’re spoiled often enough,” Boba said plainly, though the hint of a grin pulling at his lips made you realize he was teasing you.

Something overwhelmingly warm and pleasant tugged at your heart, replacing practically every negative feeling you’d experienced in the past ten minutes. “I’m spoiled, huh? How am I spoiled?”

“You usually get what you want.”

You hummed at that, trying to think of something he might be referencing. He didn’t interact with you much at work, and typically it was usually the opposite in your experience. “I don’t think so,” you finally said, drawing up blanks.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Oh.

Oh.

You hadn’t considered that maybe he kept up with the ritual for your sake. Maybe he didn’t smoke at the same time and at the same place on a weekly basis, but instead decided to show up because you expected him there. Because that made sense.

Guilt ate at your heart, replaced quickly by a sense of affection.

It meant he enjoyed your talks, then, right? That he at least enjoyed your company? You couldn’t think of anyone he might just hang out with other than Fennec, and even then, you couldn’t picture him going through the trouble of all of this just to talk with her.

“Boba…” Tentatively, you reached out and placed your palms against his chest, looking up at him. He smelled like leather and smoke and himself , and you were so close that if you wanted, you could… you could….

Thunder crackled sharply overhead, and you jumped back in pure surprise. Boba’s hands came to settle around your elbows, keeping you from fully peeling away.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathed. Ozone filled your nose — the threat of rain.

“Didn’t think it was supposed to storm tonight,” Boba admitted, and the change in weather made disappointment surge through your veins. You doubted he was the type to enjoy smoking while soaking wet, meaning you’d likely have to call it quits for tonight.

Unless…

“You could…” Oh, god. You already knew that the offer would be a mistake, but you swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat. “You could smoke. In my house. If you wanna.”

He regarded you quietly. “If I want, huh?”

“I-if you want,” you repeated. “But would a ‘please’ help influence your decision?”

“No.” And oh, that made your heart drop in your chest — but then he curled a finger under your chin and applied enough pressure to keep you gazing up at him. “But I want to hear one anyway.”

You couldn’t look away if you wanted to. There was something in his eyes that had you absolutely mesmerized , something burning like the smoldering end of a cigarette. God , you wanted to fucking kiss him. “Will you please come to my house?”

His lips curled into a small, self-satisfied smirk that bordered on a grin. The way he allowed you to see a flash of teeth seemed almost predatory , and it made you want to run away, or run toward him. “I’m not in the mood to get soaked,” he finally said. “Let’s go.”

You thought he would pull away from you entirely, leave you wanting and waiting,  but instead his arm curled itself around your waist to pull you against the warmth of his side. The gesture was so obviously possessive that it made your heart swoon . You tentatively leaned into him, a hand braced on his chest, but he took your weight easily, as if it were nothing.

The walk to your house was usually a quick affair, a five minute walk at most . Yet, now it felt like you were getting there at a snail’s pace, your body and brain hyperaware of your surroundings, dragging the walk out into one long punishment. Boba’s hand had slipped underneath the hem of your shirt to touch bare skin and it burned with promise. His body was so warm, and so solid, and he smelled so good that you just wanted to bury your face in his chest and just breathe. 

To anyone else, you would’ve looked like a typical drunk couple enjoying the evening together. You were invisible, and that knowledge made you almost giddy . He was no longer your boss and you weren’t his employee. The circumstances of your relationship didn’t matter, and for a moment you could pretend that you two were just —

Well, that you two were something together. Something with a future.

Too held up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the pebble in your path, and you caught your foot on it and stumbled. Boba’s arms wrapped around you before you could pitch forward and he dragged you up to hold you against his chest, one strong arm braced around your middle. “Easy.”

His lips were right by your ear, so close that his voice had come out as barely more than a low rumble. You instinctively tensed in his arms, one hand resting atop his own, and turned your head back to look at him.

Christ , you were impossibly close. The angle meant that there were scant few inches separating you from him, and that a small adjustment would be enough to allow your lips to brush his, to allow you to have a taste of him that you’ve craved these past few months —

Thunder boomed overhead and you startled in his arms, enough so that you jerked away from him. You gave a nervous laugh moreso to assure him that nothing was actually wrong than anything else. The first few fat drops of rain splattered your skin, shockingly cold, and you both looked up at the sky in unison.

“We’d better hurry,” you suggested, knowing how easily torrential rain began in storms like these.

You reached for his hand this time, settling your small hand in the palm of his own, but it was Boba that pulled you along to your house with a renewed sense of urgency as rain began to darken the concrete in small splotches. The clouds threatened to open up and drench you both, but there was something a little more primal in the way he handled you, like it wasn’t just the rain on his mind.

By the time you reached the steps leading up to your door, he was practically manhandling you up them, and instead of allowing you to stop and fish your keys from your pockets, he kept himself in your space, crowding into you, forcing you back against your door. He braced an arm over your head, the other settling on your hip, and when he pressed his knee between your thighs you parted your legs willingly for him.

Boba stared at you. Water droplets dusted the shoulders of his leather jacket, shining dimly in your porch light. The same light reflected warmly in his brown eyes, eyes normally so hard and closed off, but soft for you , like he was sharing a secret, like he was barring some hidden part of himself just for you. Only you.

His thumb skimmed your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up, drawing slow and smooth circles that didn’t match the intensity of his gaze or the way your heart pounded in your chest. When he swallowed, you watched how his adam’s apple bobbed and longed to put your mouth there, to feel the motion against your lips.

“You gonna invite me inside?”

You wanted to hit him. You wanted to give him a snarky reply for all but forcing you up your stairs, or call him something that involved the words cheeky and asshole — but his breath kept ghosting tantalizingly across your lips and his damned smirk was so attractive and you felt like you had been waiting for this for literal years, desire and want and longing all bound up fit to bursting in your chest. “Only if you kiss me,” you challenged breathlessly.

Boba surged forward, hands sliding to cup your face between his broad and calloused palms, and he kissed you with more teeth than lips, something ferocious and desperate . His knee slotted itself higher between your thighs, purposefully rubbing against your center, and you moaned into his mouth, clutching desperately at his wrists. Against the awning, the spattering of rain turned quickly into a flood and for a moment you couldn’t differentiate between it and the blood rushing in your ears.

You never thought you’d find the taste of cigarettes appealing, but you did — at least, you liked them combined with whatever it was Boba tasted like. Maybe it was your attraction to him warping your senses but you couldn’t get enough. You licked into his mouth, sucked lightly on his tongue, teased his lip with your teeth — literally anything  to keep him pressed against you.

His hands left your face which made the chilly air feel all the more cold against your cheeks. Instead, they ran down the length of your torso, mapping out the curves and planes of your body. You arched willingly into his hands as they reached around to your backside, sliding into the pockets of your jeans —

— only to be met with disappointment when you heard the jangle of your keys as he pulled them from your pocket. “Could’ve —  asked ,” you managed between breathless kisses. Boba hummed into your mouth as he reached for the doorknob to your side. Reluctantly, he pulled away just long enough to slot the key correctly into the lock, and you busied yourself with tasting the expanse of skin on his throat that the new angle provided.

One hand still remained cupping your ass, and you squeaked when he suddenly grabbed a handful and squeezed. As he turned the doorhandle, he used his hand to pull your weight forward against him so that you wouldn’t fall backward into your house, which had the added advantage of pressing your chest to his.

“C’mon,” he murmured lowly, playfully swatting your ass. “Inside.”

You barely registered the sound of your keys hitting your tiled floor as he ushered you indoors, because the moment you both were safely inside you fell on him again, lip-to-lip, hands trying to work off his leather jacket. He took the hint and shed it quickly, letting it fall to the floor, and immediately he urged off your own shirt, breaking away from you long enough to pull the fabric up over your head.

His hands felt so big against your body like they were everywhere, his rough palms a stark contrast against your smooth skin. He thumbed just under your breastband, one hand settled on your back to keep your pelvis pressed to him as his other hand groped your chest over your bra, rough and demanding, and you whined into his mouth. The pleasure threatened to sweep your thoughts away, to turn you mindless and dumb and completely receptive to his whims. You turned your head away from his lips, trying to find the words to speak as he continued to grab handfuls of your flesh. “Boba —” you started, cutting off abruptly with a whine as he teethed at the delicate skin of your neck, each nibble a promise of a later bruise. “W-wait, Boba, I thought you came here to smoke?”

In an instant, his hands fell to his sides, leaving you completely untouched. If you weren’t keyed up and desperate, you might’ve appreciated the gesture, but now it just left you feeling frustrated and unfulfilled. He looked down at you in concern, brows slightly furrowed, but all you could focus on were his lips . They were slick with saliva, kiss-swollen, and you felt a twinge of regret that you had pulled away at all.

“....Do you not want —”

“No! No, I do, I just thought that maybe, y’know…” You gave him a sheepish grin, aware of how hot your face felt.  “I thought that maybe you could...do both?”

Concern gave way to slight confusion, then he chuckled in amusement. “I should have guessed.” Boba reached back into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out his lighter and a carton of cigarettes and carefully shook one free. “You have a thing for smoking, huh?”

“No!” It was a gut-response to deny; smoking was gross . It was yucky . It did awful things to people’s bodies and it stained clothes and fingers and yet — “Or at least, I didn’t,” you amended, voice softening. “Not until I saw you that night.”

He paused, lighter halfway to his mouth. The cigarette dangled attractively from his lips. “You should have better taste.”

You choked on nothing. “Wh — you should have better stress relievers!” “Are you offering?”

That made you stop, heat rising to your face at the implication. Sure, you wanted him — but the thought of being his little toy , someone he came to when he needed a quick fuck to ease his frustrations — you liked the thought of it a little too much. Boba was smirking at you, but he seemed to understand to leave well enough alone, at least for now.

There was a flash of light, steel hitting flint, and then the familiar smell of smoke filled the air, more potent in your tiny house. He motioned his head toward your couch as he breathed out a mouthful of smoke. “Go sit.”

The command was almost unneeded; Boba practically steered you there himself, hot on your heels, his hand right back on your lower back like it belonged there. You settled yourself on the cushions, half expecting him to sit beside you, or maybe cover your body with his own — but when he sunk to his knees in front of you, nerves bubbled up in your stomach.

“Oh, Boba, I’ve never...No one has...gone down on me before.”

He grunted, deft fingertips already at the button of your jeans. “Don’t see how that impacts me.” You raised your hips to help as he tugged at the hem of one pantleg, and he slid your jeans off in one smooth movement. He placed your legs over his shoulders and jerked you forward so your ass was off the couch, hips suspended in midair by his arms hooked underneath your thighs. It left you trapped and pinned in place, your back slouched awkwardly against the back of the couch. He puffed on his cigarette before transferring it between his first two fingers, the burning tip pointed away from you as he gripped your thigh. Smoke escaped his mouth as he spoke, “Unless you want me to stop?”

You shook your head, and whatever nervous thoughts you had about tasting or smelling weird, or not looking the way he expected, or not being groomed the way he liked instantly left as Boba ran the flat of his tongue against your clothed cunt, so hot even through the fabric of your panties, and you jerked your hips both in surprise and want .

“Be still ,” he growled, so close that you felt his breath against your center. “I don’t want to burn you.”

“You won’t,” you breathed. You trusted him not to even accidentally harm you, like accident wasn’t a word in his vocabulary. Instead, you felt his arms clamp down on you harder, giving you even less potential wiggle room than before.

A moment later, his mouth was on you, his tongue licking broad stripes against your panties. It felt good even without direct contact; you had never had someone’s mouth on you before, and it had been a long time since you had anything but your hand to pleasure yourself with. 

“You’re already so wet.” He turned his attention to your inner thighs, and pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses to your heated skin. His free hand rubbed you through your panties, spreading your slick into the fabric, and you moaned . “Is it because of me, or are you just excited?”

“You. It’s you.” He hooked his thumb under the edges of your panties and pulled the fabric away from your crotch, exposing your heated core. Your breath came in short puffs as he finally touched you, skin against skin, his thumb dipping into your folds to collect your slick on his fingertip. “I’ve — thought about this for so long.” “About me eating you out?” You were so wet; you could see how your juices glistened on his thumb as he brought it to his mouth, letting his tongue loll out lewdly as he licked your taste clean from his finger. You whined at that sight alone and imagined his tongue tasting you for real, imagined how wet and hot it would feel against your bare cunt. He brought that same hand down onto the meat of your thigh, slapping you light enough to get your attention but not enough to leave a lasting sting. “I asked you a question, princess.”

“About this,” you repeated, as if it clarified anything. “About you.  About — Boba, please —” You tried arching your hips off the couch to tempt him, tried to explain without words what you wanted as your voice died off into a needy whine.

His hand returned to your cunt, fingertips grazing over your clit through your panties. They were so soaked with his spit and your slick that it was barely a barrier at all, made translucent by all the fluids. “Don’t make me guess what you want,” he said. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

Frustrated, you groaned and covered your face with your hands. “It’s embarrassing to say it.”

“It’s embarrassing, huh?” Boba teased the edge of your underwear, flicking it against your skin as a reminder that his fingers were right there , that you could have what you were desperate for if you only asked. “Is it embarrassing if I say that I love how you taste?” 

“Boba….” you whined weakly.

“I want to taste more of you,” he murmured, voice growing husky. He nosed against your clothed mound, breath fanning hotly against your core. “I want to bury my tongue in your little cunt and take everything from you. I want you to come undone on my mouth, princess.” He pressed an oddly-sweet kiss to your thigh, his lips lingering on your skin. “But I can’t unless you tell me what you want.”

You felt hot and extremely bothered by the casual way he said those things, how he just uttered his desires as if they were nothing. It wasn’t embarrassing to ask him to eat you out, but you found it embarrassing that you wanted it. You swallowed thickly, and when you finally looked out from under your hands you found Boba looking up at you through hooded eyes, just waiting. Watching.

“Please,” you whispered. “Please eat me out.”

“ That ’s it." In a blatant show of strength he ripped your panties right from your hips, tearing the cloth with one strong pull. You didn’t even have time to articulate a response, because a second later his mouth was on your bare pussy, his tongue eagerly lapping up the liquid that glistened on your folds. 

“ Boba! ” You jerked hard in his grasp but he pinned you down with his hands alone, his grip on your thighs so tight you knew that there would be ten marks in the shape of his fingers the next morning. He was relentless, lapping and slurping at your cunt like a man starved, and the sounds were so lewd and so pornographic that you’d have found them gross were you not so aroused. 

You wanted to snap your thighs closed and rut against his mouth so bad , but his hold on you was unforgiving. He kept you spread and held in place, completely at his mercy as he licked and sucked and devoured you. Little gasps and moans kept escaping your lips, mixed in with mindless repetitions of Boba and please and yes, yes, like that.  This was the loudest you had ever been; months of pent-up desire and sexual frustration had you quickly approaching an orgasm, vastly helped by Boba’s skillful tongue. The urge sat heavy in your gut and only grew with each passing second until you were frantically trying to grind into him, hips moving minutely in his iron grip.

And then he began to pull away. Your hand shot out to grab the back of his head to hold him in place, a desperate whine leaving your throat. “No! No, Boba, please, I’m so close, please —”

“Shhh.” He turned his head to place a soft kiss to your inner thigh. “Relax, princess. I’m not going anywhere.” His assurances were enough to cause you to let go, and he rewarded you by peppering more gentle kisses to your slicked skin.  “You got an ashtray?”

You had to think through the haze of want that clouded your thoughts. “A... huh? Why?”

“Don’t want to burn you.” He motioned toward the cone of ash on his cigarette, which had been steadily burning the whole time his mouth was on you. Carefully, he unwound his arms from around you and you slumped, boneless, back into the couch. “Unless you want me to use the carpet?”

“N-no, god, my landlord would kill me.” You spotted an old mug sitting on the endtable right next to the couch and reached for it, almost spilling the scant liquid left inside as you haphazardly handed it to Boba. “Use this.”

Sitting back on his haunches, he flicked the excess into the mug and then brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. You watched the fabric of his shirt stretch across his chest as he breathed in, how his shoulders seemed to broaden with the action. When he exhaled, he blew from the side of his mouth, keeping the smoke from reaching your face.

Which was considerate and all, but… “ Boba .” You stretched your lower half toward him in need, letting your thighs fall open. “Please?”

“You invited me here to smoke,” he reminded, even as his free hand slid up to brush tantalizingly close to your slit. “You gonna make me waste a cigarette?”

“N-no, but…” Tears pricked the back of your eyes; you had been so close , and the longer you went without his mouth on you the more you worried you wouldn’t get to come at all. “ Please .”

Boba flicked ash into the mug again and set it aside on the floor, out of reach of flailing arms and legs. “Spoiled little thing,” he said, so affectionate, and then he was upon you, his head back between your thighs. And, fuck, maybe you were spoiled, but it was his fault for indulging you and giving you an inch so you could take a mile. His tongue just felt so good, and without his arms pinning your legs open you rutted freely into his mouth, moans and pleas rolling off your lips anew.

Boba turned his head to the side as he took another drag from his cigarette, holding the little nub a safe ways away from your skin. He exhaled before he wrapped his mouth around you again, hotter than before, and his lips latched around your clit.

“Fuck!” Pleasure shot up through your spine and you moaned shamelessly, your eyes shutting tightly against the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you. “Fuck, fuck , Boba, please, oh my god —”

“Gonna come from my mouth alone?” His lips barely left your cunt as he spoke, his hot breath only serving to further tease you. “Wanna come for me, sweet thing?”

“ Yes ,” you hissed. “Yes, Boba, please , wanna come on your tongue —” You weren’t even wholly aware of what you were saying, just babbling mindlessly as he kept torturing your clit with attention. The urge you were chasing earlier came back full-force, leaving you teetering on the edge. “Please, please , Boba, Boba —”

“Then come,” he ordered. “Come for me.”

It might have been his voice, it might have been because his teeth skimmed your clit, but you came and you came hard . You think  you screamed, or blacked out, or screamed and then blacked out — and when you finally relaxed, body no long tight and taut, you opened bleary eyes to find Boba’s face still buried between your legs, his tongue lapping at your sensitive pussy in slow, languid movements.

“Boba,” you whimpered, pushing at him weakly. “‘S’too much, please …”

He peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses on the heated skin of your inner thighs as he pulled away, settling back on his knees. To your embarrassment, his mouth and chin shined with your juices; he turned his head to wipe himself clean on the sleeve of his shoulder and replaced his cigarette back between his lips. It was evident he’d enjoyed himself, too, because there was a sizable bulge tenting the fabric of his jeans.

“Hey.” You stretched a leg out, brushing a toe across the top of a clothed thigh. “It’s not fair you’re still dressed. Take off your shirt.”

He exhaled slowly, smoke drifting lazily upward from his mouth. “Take off your bra if you want it to be fair.”

You had completely forgotten that you were still wearing it, and you realized how ridiculous you must look: stripped nude with your bare pussy on display, but still wearing your fucking bra. It wasn’t even cute .

Sitting up, you hesitantly reached behind yourself and unclipped your bra. You let the straps slide down your shoulders but left the cups covering your chest, suddenly very acutely aware of everything: the couch beneath your bare thighs, the drying slick on your skin, Boba’s warm eyes focused intensely on you .

“Don’t get shy on me, now.” Gentle and slow, he reached a hand up and helped ease your bra the rest of the way off your chest. He palmed your bare breast, pebbling your nipple underneath his thumb. “Beautiful.”

You flushed at the compliment but gently pushed his hand away. “Your turn. Fair’s fair.”

He extended his cigarette out to you as he stood up from his knees, and you didn’t miss the quiet noise of exertion he made at the effort. “Hold this.” It was burned down to almost nothing, wasted, but as you took it from his fingers you remembered how often you’d imagined holding the filter between your lips, how often you dreamed of tasting him second-hand.

“Want to try?” He must’ve caught you staring; when you glanced back at him, he was bare-chested, and you marveled at the power that flexed underneath his skin, at the tattoos that spanned his chest and upper arms. You’d have to ask about them later.

“I thought you didn’t want me to start?”

“You’re an adult. I’m saying the offer’s there, if you want.”

You considered it — you really did — but then you thought about how sweeter it would taste coming from his mouth, and you passed it back to him.

“I...can we try something?

The end of it burned red-hot as he inhaled. “What?”

Your earlier shyness came back, your nerves sitting heavy in your chest. “What if...you kissed me, right? But with your mouth full of smoke? And then...y’know….” You wrung your hands in your lap as your confidence died out.

But Boba merely chuckled and took a seat on the couch next to you, the cushions dipping under his weight. “You won’t like it,” he warned.

“I don’t care.” Half-surprised he agreed, and half-giddy with desire, you crawled loose-limbed into his space, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth as you settled into him. “If it’s from you, I don’t care.”

You had tucked yourself into his side, but Boba hauled you into his lap instead, swinging your legs across his own. His clothed erection pressed into your hip and you had half a mind to ask if he wanted his pants off, too — but then he grabbed your chin between one large hand and held you in place as he puffed from his cigarette. His lips ghosted across your own, soft and tentative, and then he kissed you for real.

Unlike before, this was gentle and sweet, the slow molding of his mouth to yours, until he urged your lips to part. On instinct, you inhaled, and the smoke that entered your lungs was hot and spicy . You coughed once against his mouth before you had the chance to turn away. Your lungs and throat burned and tears quickly filled your eyes as you coughed away the sensation.

“I told you,” came Boba’s smug reply, and you narrowed your leaking eyes in a glare even as small coughs wracked your body. Gently, he smoothed his hand up and down your spine. “Wanna try again?”

“So you can —” you stopped, coughing, “— laugh at me?”

“Not laughing.” He wiped away some spittle on the side of your mouth. “It’ll be easier if you just hold it in your mouth. Don’t breathe it in.”

You nodded. After he took another drag from his cigarette, well and truly burning it to the filter, he kissed you again. This time, when you felt smoke fill your mouth, you fought off the urge to inhale. It almost tasted sweet beneath the bitter burn. You forced yourself to breathe out, the smoke pouring from between your connected mouths, but despite your best efforts you ended up inhaling a little anyway. You pulled away and coughed to clear your throat.

“Better?

You shook your head. “Not really,” you said sheepishly. “At least I know there’s one fantasy I don’t want to try again.

Boba extinguished the nub of his cigarette between forefinger and thumb and tossed it to the mug he left on the floor. “You fantasized about this?”

“Well, duh.” You sunk down against his chest, resting your head on his shoulder as he drew you close. “What else am I supposed to think about at work?”

It was a tease, mostly, but Boba pinched the soft skin of your thigh. “Naughty thing,” he admonished. “I pay you to fantasize, huh?”

“You occupy my thoughts even when I’m off the clock,” you admitted. As you shifted a bit in his lap, his erection pressed into your side, and you remembered another worktime fantasy and spoke before Boba had a chance to reply to your honesty. “Hey, you brought a whole pack with you, right?”

He huffed out a chuckle. “You trying to give me lung cancer?”

“No! No, no, just —” You squirmed. “Do you maybe want a blowjob? While you smoke?”

He answered you by reaching into his back pocket to pull out his lighter and cigarette carton. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“W-well, I mean, I thought you might like it. It’s supposed to be every man’s fantasy, right? A good blowjob and a smoke?” You eased yourself onto your knees before him as he lit up another cigarette, smoothing your hand over his broad thighs.

“Never considered it before,” he said as he began to undo his belt, “but I won’t say no.”

Your deft fingers helped undo the button on his jeans, and you pulled the waistband down just far enough to free his aching cock. “Oh, fuck ,” you breathed. He was big . Bigger than anyone else you’d taken, and you felt a phantom twinge of pain in your jaw just imagining him in your mouth. 

“Like what you see?” Boba grinned down at you, his freshly-lit cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth. Oh, he knew he was big. He knew it, and he knew you liked it.

You wrapped your hand around him and almost moaned when you realized you were barely able to touch your thumb to your middle finger around his girth. “Holy fuck , Boba.” You had never wanted to suck a dick as badly as you did now, even if you were questioning how any of it would fit in your mouth. Would he even fit in your cunt? If things escalated to that point, would you be able to take him, or would he just split you in half?

You subconsciously squeezed your thighs together and leaned in, pressing kisses up along his shaft. He smelled good , like musk, like Boba , the scent that you could never name. You parted your lips and dragged the tip of your tongue along his shaft, feather-light, stopping to take his leaking head into your mouth. He tasted salty on your tongue and you braced your hands on his thighs as you leaned in farther, relaxing your throat as his girth stretched you mouth impossibly wide. Already, it was almost too much, your jaw threatening to ache, and you worried you’d have to give him a handjob instead.

“‘Atta girl,” Boba praised, and oh if that didn’t make you feel like you could do anything . He ran a hand through your hair and settled a palm on the top of your head — not pulling, not pushing, but a comforting weight that held promise. Potential.

You pulled off his cock, tilting your head to look up at him through your lashes. “You can be mean,” you breathed, cognizant of how his hand tightened in your hair. “It’s okay.”

Boba hummed low in his throat, as if he were considering it. “Some other time,” he promised. “You have to learn to take me. I can’t break you on the first day.”

His words made you whimper automatically with want as your brain immediately filled in the gaps. Boba exhaled a mouthful of smoke around his cigarette and applied a little pressure to the top of your head, encouraging you to bend down again. “C’mon, princess. Take me into your mouth.”

You held his gaze for as long as you could manage as you wrapped your lips around his cock again, sinking down on his length. Despite his size, you wanted to take him deep in your throat and feel his jeans rub against your chin. You tried to relax as much as possible as you sunk lower but he was just too much , and you ended up gagging audibly.

He gave a sharp tug on your hair, pulling you off his cock. “Go easy ,” he stressed. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Spit dribbled down your chin. “I want to take all of you,” you whined.

Boba’s hand cupped your jaw, his thumb smearing your saliva across your lips. “Be patient. I’m not a small man.”

“You make it sound like I’ll get another chance to do this.”

“You will. If you want.” Ash fell from the end of his cigarette and onto the cushion below, but in that moment you couldn’t care less about your stupid couch. “I’d like to have fun with you again.”

You hid your grin behind kisses as you peppered them along his shaft. “Okay,” you finally said. “Okay, I’ll go easy.” Boba made it sound like you’d have all the time in the world later to train your throat to take his cock — and hopefully there’d be time to train other things, as well.

No longer focused on deepthroating his entire cock, you worked on fitting as much as you could comfortably handle into his mouth and settled into a rhythm as you sucked and licked. You stroked the rest of his shaft with your hand, aided smoothly by your excessive saliva that drooled down his length.

You took a chance to look up at Boba, and found him with his eyes closed, an arm thrown over the back of your couch. The cigarette bobbled in his mouth as he inhaled around it. “ There you go,” he murmured, smoke trailing from his lips. “Just like that. Easy.”

You swallowed around him and his hand tightened in your hair. The taste in your mouth grew saltier with each passing second as his precum leaked from the tip of his cock and mingled with your spit. Boba groaned above you, something guttural and almost primal , and you felt the ache between your own legs grow in response.

“Want my cum, princess?” 

Grateful for the chance to give your aching jaw a break, you lifted from his cock and licked a broad stripe up from where your hand had been. “ Yes ,” you plead. “Yes, please, will you come in my mouth?”

“Gonna swallow me, huh?” At your enthusiastic nod, he grinned. “Good girl. My good girl. Scoot back.”

He moved to stand up from the couch and you realized at once what he intended to do as you shifted backwards, sitting pretty on your knees. He towered over you in this position and you couldn’t take your gaze away from him; at this angle, he seemed larger than life, intimidating and scary and huge , and the cherry-red of his cigarette burned brighter than ever. 

Boba cupped your jaw in his hand, tugging at your bottom lip. “Open your mouth.” You whined and clutched at the fabric of his pants as you obediently parted your lips, moving your head so that the tip of his cock was pointed at your mouth.

He fisted his cock in one hand, jerking himself hard and fast, and with the other he gripped the back of your hair and held you in place. “Gonna come, princess. Stick your tongue out for me.” 

You stretched your tongue out of your mouth as far as it would go, lips parted wide, and stared longingly up at him. Each of his exhales contained a mouthful of smoke, and it gave him the impression of standing in a translucent cloud, the tip of his cigarette standing out amongst the white.

He grunted something unintelligible and you felt something warm and thick land on your cheek. The next one hit your upper lip, and Boba drew you forward so that the head of his cock sat on the tip of your tongue. The rest of his cum landed hot and salty on your tastebuds.

Boba jerked himself from base to tip, coaxing out whatever droplets he could give you. “You look so good,” he murmured, voice husky. “Good girl. Swallow.”

You obeyed, opening your mouth wide after to show him. His thumb came up and helped guide the mess he left on your face into your waiting mouth, where you sucked his tongue clean each time.

“You did so well,” he praised, and even though your jaw ached and there was a dull throb between your legs, you beamed . You pressed your face into his clothed thigh and sighed happily as he rested a hand in your hair, stroking down the strands he’d mussed earlier. He took his cigarette from his mouth and tapped the ashes off into what you hoped was the mug.

A sort of quiet peace settled over you, and even though you were completely nude and it was late and you kind of wanted to invite Boba to stay the night (or forever), you were content to just sit there on your knees as he ran his fingers through your hair.

Besides. He told you there would be a next time — there was no reason to rush.

[hyungieyoongi]

Time: “Run Away to You” Part 6

“You’d think a year apart would be enough for me to fall out of love with you. I think I’d still love you even if we spent fifty years apart from each other.”

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader

Word Count: 2.0K

Genre: Angst + Fluff (the end is here, and I’m emotional)

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

Part 5 // Epilogue

---

Yoongi’s arm was draped over your waist, his form curled against yours. His even breathing against your neck signaled to you that he was still asleep, so you gently shuffled toward the edge of the bed, trying not to wake him. Yoongi’s arm fell onto the now empty spot beside him, but he didn’t stir.

You threw on Yoongi’s oversized sweatshirt from the day before to save yourself from the draft in the apartment, tiptoeing out of the room as Yoongi slept. You looked back at him before you shut the door to the bedroom. His dark hair was messy, pale skin warming in the early morning sunshine. You heart seemed to swell with affection at the sight.

You looked in several kitchen cabinets in the unfamiliar apartment before finally finding a bag of coffee grounds. You meditatively went through the steps of boiling water on the stove and measuring out the grounds.

You were just pressing the coffee grounds down in the French press when you felt a pair of arms wrap around you from behind, Yoongi’s lips landing on the space between your neck and the collar of his sweatshirt. You sighed at the feeling, leaning back against his chest.

“Good morning,” he hummed against your ear, his voice raspy with sleep.

“Good morning, I’m making coffee,” you said, slightly flustered as Yoongi continued to move his mouth against your neck. He chuckled; you felt the sound vibrate in his chest against you.

“I can see that,” he teased. You spun around, his hands moving to your back to accommodate your new position.

“Here I am, trying to be nice and make you coffee before you wake up, and this is the thanks I get?” you quirked an eyebrow at Yoongi. He scrunched his nose trying not to smile at you teasing him back, but the corners of his lips quickly turned up in a grin.

“You’re right, thank you,” Yoongi kissed your forehead, pulling away from you in search of two mugs to pour the now-finished coffee into.

“What is your schedule like today?” you asked as he handed you the hot mug, his fingers brushing against yours.

“I have rehearsals for an upcoming performance most of the morning, and then I was planning on working in the studio for a while. You could work in there with me, if you’d like. On your book or something.” You nodded absentmindedly in agreement while you sipped your coffee.

“That’s a good idea, actually. I’m feeling rather inspired today,” you said with a coy smile, Yoongi’s face blushing as you looked at him.

“You remember how to get there?” Yoongi asked, placing his mug on the counter next to him.

“Yes, of course.”

“I’ll see you later, then? I better get going so I can get ready before the boys have too many questions,” Yoongi scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish.

“Right. Do you want this back?” you asked, pulling at the sweatshirt you had stolen from him that morning.

“No, keep it, it looks better on you,” Yoongi said, leaning forward to plant a sweet kiss to your lips before heading out the door. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt so many butterflies in your stomach.  

---

We’ve seen a few more pictures pop up, but they don’t clearly show your face, just you and Yoongi going into your building. Your name has come up a few times, but there still isn’t a definitive theory that it’s you. I’ll keep you updated. – Marianne

You read the text from Marianne, your sigh alerting Yoongi that something was wrong. He glanced over at you from his desk, giving you a curious look.

The two of you had fallen into a comfortable routine over the past week. He would leave your apartment early in the morning before his rehearsals and meetings for the day. You would meet him in his studio later, both of you working side-by-side on your projects. Per the label and Marianne’s instructions, you were still on lockdown, so the second half of your book was coming along nicely with how much time you had to devote to it.

But the clock that had begun ticking in your head since Marianne had given you your two-week deadline to figure out your next move was rapidly running out of time.

You were getting daily updates from Marianne, and, while you had hoped the rumors would die down after this past week of hiding, they seemed to keep stirring. Marianne had warned you yesterday that it might be time to get ahead of it.

“You need to talk to him, Y/N. We can’t make the next move unless you know for certain that he is on the same page as you. I know that you two have been in a bit of a whirlwind of being together again, but it has been a carefully constructed bubble,” Marianne warned.

“He told me he wasn’t going to let me go, Marianne. And I can’t let him go, either,” you said to her over the phone.

“Still, just talk to him, okay? I’ll handle the label, but I need you to do this for you.”

“Okay.”

Yoongi waited for you to explain your odd behavior, fully facing you now.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“More pictures,” you explained. “This time they’re of both of us going into my building. Looks like it might be time to find a new place to live,” you tried to say the last part jokingly, but it came out strained.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Yoongi said, suddenly standing. He reached his hand out to you to pull you up. He intertwined your fingers together, holding your hand tightly as you made your way into the private courtyard outside of the building.

You walked for a bit in silence, trying to find the right words to say.

“Yoongi, I think we need to talk,” you said, breaking the silence. He stumbled a bit in surprise at your statement, his grip on your hand slackening enough for you to pull it from his grasp. He righted himself, frowning at your hand that was now firmly by your side in a fist. You needed a clear mind to talk to him, and your mind was never truly clear if you were touching him.

“Is this about the new photos?” he asked. You nodded.

“Marianne is starting to think it might be time to make a statement. Maybe activate my social media accounts again, post a video addressing the rumors, something like that. She wants to get ahead of this. The speculation doesn’t seem to be dying down, and it’ll look worse, for both of us, if it seems like we’re hiding my identity from your fans,” you explained to Yoongi, waiting for his reaction.

He stepped forward, searching your eyes.

“Do you want that? To make a statement?” he asked.

“Not particularly,” you admitted quietly.

“You can wait. You don’t have to make a decision right now that you’ll regret later,” Yoongi said, trying to mitigate your stress.

“I’m running out of time, Yoongi. The past week with you has been a dream, but I have to wake up. I can’t keep hiding in your apartment building, pretending like the photos will go away. It’ll be worse the longer I wait. The label has already said that you were with an old friend, but they’re putting pressure on me to come out and say that it’s me. It seems to only be a matter of time before it’s confirmed, anyway. Besides, they think that your fans will believe the story more if they know it’s a former actress you were with rather than someone random.”

“I know what the label thinks,” Yoongi snapped.

“Yoongi…” you started.

“No,” Yoongi stopped you, his tone serious. “I said I wasn’t letting you go, and I meant it. So, if that means protecting you and your secret, then I’ll do it. Whatever it takes.”

Yoongi placed a hand on your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that you didn’t know had fallen. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes, and taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be truly ready, but it’s time, Yoongi.” Yoongi opened his mouth to reiterate that you didn’t have to do this, but you held up a hand to stop him from interrupting you. “I told you I wasn’t going to run away again, and I meant it. I need to do this for us to move forward. I know we have to be discreet and probably say we’re just friends for a little while, but we can’t take the next step or even keep seeing each other unless I go back into the spotlight.”

“You’ll have to move; you’ll have to deal with being followed, with security, with no privacy. I-I don’t want you to hate me because I can’t keep you from that,” Yoongi said, tears brimming his eyes.

“If this past year has taught me anything, it’s that I’m incapable of hating you, Min Yoongi. If anything, I love you more than ever.” Yoongi pressed his forehead against yours at your confession, his fingers digging into your waist.

“You’d think a year apart would be enough for me to fall out of love with you. I think I’d still love you even if we spent fifty years apart from each other,” Yoongi whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“You’re what I want. The cameras, the public persona–I will relearn to deal with all of it if it means that I get you back in my life. If you’ll have me, that is.”

Yoongi’s lips met yours, the tears on both of your cheeks mingling together as you sealed your promises to each other. Yoongi pulled back long enough to murmur two words before pulling you back into him.

“I’m yours.”

---

One week later, you sat in front of the phone that was sitting on a makeshift tripod, Marianne blotting your face with powder. You had finally gotten to come back to your apartment, now with an added security system and non-disclosure agreements signed by your neighbors. You would be permanently moving into a more secure location, picked out by Marianne and Yoongi’s team, after today. The best part? It was only ten minutes away from Yoongi’s building.

Your Instagram and Twitter had been reactivated. After seeing you come back online, the rumors that it could be you in the photos with Yoongi became even more persistent. It was now or never.

“Remember what we talked about. Be yourself. Tell them that you needed some time off, to reflect and be creative, things like that. Don’t talk about Yoongi,” Marianne instructed. You rolled your eyes at the last point.

“I may be out of practice, Marianne, but I’m not completely useless. I really don’t think I’ll randomly start talking about my secret boyfriend during my Instagram story video.”

“Hush, you know I’m just doing my job,” Marianne playfully scolded.

“I know, and I love you for it.”

You checked your phone one last time, smiling at the last-minute good luck texts from your parents and the members of BTS. Your phone vibrated in your hands with a text notification.

Is it going up soon? – Yoongi

Yes, I’m about to record it. Depending on how many takes Marianne makes me do until it feels “natural”, it should be uploaded in a bit. – Y/N

Call me when it’s over. Good luck, I love you. – Yoongi

I love you, too. See you on the other side. – Y/N

“Are you ready?” Marianne asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” you breathed out. She gave you an encouraging smile.

“3, 2, 1…action.”

Part 5 // Epilogue

---

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[enigmawrappedinhypocrisy]

*Request* Okay. Thanks! Could the reader be in to wrestling and her and barley are best friends? And something happened and they find out they’re falling for each other? And Ian is always teasing the reader? And a kiss at the end? Sorry if it’s a bit confusing.. again thanks!

 Okay I’m not sure how to do this… and I’m not into wrestling… And i’m really bad at this getting things done thing… sooo… I’m sorry, I know this has been in my asks for 100 years. But excuses… And i’m tired of this being in my drafts sooo… However, Hopefully it's decent enough. 

Fandom: Onward

Pairings: Barley x Reader (mention of grandchildren once but nothing that indicates gender... I think...) 

Warnings: Bad writing, Quick Mention of drunk idiots harassing reader, I don’t know a thing about Wrestling, Fluff, very bouncy thoughts... a tiny little bit of almost angst. 

❀✦ Master List✦❀

You met Barley at a wrestling match when a few drunk idiots decided to hassle you. As they tend to do… 

You ran into the first, seemingly safe person you saw. You looked at him with puppy eyes and were grateful he understood your silent plea. 

Barley smiled warmly and put his arm around you. He pretended to be your boyfriend until the guys lost interest in you and left. He made some jokes to lighten the mood and struck up a casual conversation with you, as if you really did know each other. You found yourself amazed and feeling better, it seemed this elf boy radiated security and gentleness.  

Then, with a simple thank you, you’d parted ways; only to run into each other again at the local diner after the match. It was there you had sat and talked well into the early hours of the morning. 

You learned he was interested in many things you were, and you just felt… content around him. By the time you had to part, numbers were exchanged, and he’d texted you before noon that day. 

You began hanging out shortly after that. You were nearly always at each other’s house, and quickly became close with his family. His mother adored you and his brother felt comfortable enough to joke around with you. 

All in all you and Barley were quite close.

But not as close as your family's seemed to think you were… or maybe hope would be more appropriate…  

*

The weekend had finally arrived and you made your way to Barley’s house, as planned, after work.

There was a big wrestling event in the evening and you and Barley had plans to hang out and watch it together. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to spend a lot of time at the Lightfoot house so no one batted an eye when you showed up a little early. 

Ms. Lightfoot welcomed you and let you know that Barley had called saying he'd be a little late, and she was going out with friends. As she was leaving she turned to wink at you telling you, with a knowing look, to have fun. 

You thanked her as you felt your cheeks flush with warmth and made your way to the familiar living room. You didn't mind waiting for Barley, in fact, you'd be willing to wait all night if it meant spending time with him. Not that you would tell him that...

Lost in your thoughts about how dumb and sappy that sounded even in your mind, and the implications therein, you hadn't noticed Barley's brother come in.

You had spent a fair amount of time with both brothers since you’d first met Barley. So by this time Ian was pretty comfortable around you, sometimes even coming to you for help or advice. Especially when it entailed something he might have been too embarrassed about to ask his mother or brother about.  

 Ian had decided to take a break from homework, and get a snack when he found you lost in thought on his couch. When he came back from the kitchen only to find you with the same dazed expression several minutes later he decided to tease you a little. 

"Barley late for date night?" Ian asks, his tone even, leaning against the wall an apple in hand. 

"Yea- wait no! Why would you say that?" You blink taken off guard by the sudden question. 

Ian raises an eyebrow in a ‘really?’ expression. 

“Shut up” you try and fail to keep the blush from your voice. "We're just… eh… hanging out!" You defend a little too enthusiastically. 

“Interesting that’s the part you chose to respond to…” Ian chuckles, before heading back upstairs. If you weren't ready to admit your feelings, who was he to do it for you… besides, this was  far more amusing.

*

It wasn't much longer until Barley arrived home, a little disheveled. The match wasn't due to start for another hour, maybe more depending on how things went, and yet it looked like the elf boy had rushed home. 

Why? 

The only thought that continued to creep into your mind was you… he rushed home to see you. The idea of It warmed your heart, and filled you with a longing. A longing for a potential life where Barley was coming home after work each day to see you. 

He'd find you cooking… reading… working on some project… and kiss you. 

You'd ask him about his day… and he yours. 

You'd share a pleasant dinner and end the night cuddled on the couch… 

You’d be happy… 

Ian's words run on loop in your mind and you don’t notice the way Barley’s face lights up upon seeing you. 

Did Barley think you were dating? That this was a date? 

Did he want it to be? 

Did you? 

You hadn't noticed you were staring until Barley brought attention to it.��

"What?" You jump. 

"I asked why you were looking at me like that?" he gives you his charming little half smile as he repeats, what you assume was, his earlier question. 

"Oh, um… nothing… no reason" you blush and desperately avoid looking at him. 

Barley watches you for a moment, clearly not believing your answer, but gives in with a shrug. 

"I'm just gonna go put my stuff down and get something to drink… you want something?" He asks. 

"Okay, um… no thanks" you try to sound casual all the while you're incredibly aware of your quickening heartbeat. 

Barley nods before leaving you, calling to you from the kitchen. He asks about your day. You give a non answer in response and ask him about his. 

He goes on to tell you about some funny thing his boss said in response to an irate customer, and soon returns to the living room. He hands you your drink before flopping down next to you. 

You scold him as you nearly spill. Not really realizing he brought you something even though you told him you didn’t need him to… not only that, but it was definitely your favorite… why would he… how… 

"Sorry my love" he smirks, clearly not sorry. 

You roll your eyes giving him a little shove in response to the nickname. He often called you sweet things. Things you previously attributed to his personality or teasing but now they had you wondering.

When he called you those things, sweetheart, darling, dear… was he actually hinting at what he really felt? 

You look at him out of the corner of your eye and quickly squeak noticing he was watching you with an indescribable emotion.

"W-what?" You try to act casual. 

"What's wrong with you?" He asks, blunt and to the point. 

"What do you mean?" You try and play it off, as if your mind wasn’t playing that little game with the levers and ball… and see you can’t even remember what it’s called… and it’s your analogy… 

PINBALL! Your brain was playing pinball… the dinging buzzing things the ball hits against being the sudden and many thoughts… which makes you the ball? Or was the ball the thoughts… bouncing around… there goes the analogy again…  

"You're being all quiet and…” he indicates you vaguely,  “did my mom say something to you? She's been teasing me about grandchildren lately, she didn't say something like that too you did she?" 

Your eyes widen and you suspect Barley didn't mean to let that slip out by the blush now coloring his ears. 

"No… but um… what-what do you tell her when she asks about that kind of stuff?" Yeah super subtle… 

Barley scratches the back of his neck, “I tell her we haven't discussed that…" 

Wait…

"Why would we… Um Barley?" You push away your insecurities, fear that you’d read the situation wrong, and decide to just jump in with both feet. 

Or tip over the machine? Does it work now? The analogy? 

He 'hmms'. 

"Do you think we're dating?" You try to phrase it gently but cringe when you hear yourself. You don’t want to come across rude, like you’re making fun of him… but also don’t wanna let on how much you’re starting to suspect you want him to say yes… 

Barley looks away from you, practically purple at this point. 

"Uh… no of course not…" It sounded small, nervous but... hopeful? 

"Do… do you want to?" you manage to force out, slightly proud of your mostly even tone.

Do you?

You’re still not sure at this point yourself, you’d only just realized the way you feel about the elf boy that was your best friend. Did you want to risk that? What happens if this was just a little puppy attraction, lust thing… and whatever relationship you begin quickly sizzles out? 

Barley is looking at his hands as he nervously fiddles with the zipper of his vest. He bites his lip and tries to avoid your gaze. 

Oh… 

You soften, “It’s okay if you do… I mean… wanna… um…” Now you can’t find the words, which becomes more difficult when Barley looks up at you, hope shining in his eyes. 

“What are you saying?” he prompts, heart pounding in his chest. He hopes you can’t hear it. 

You shift, turning towards him slightly. “Well… if you wanted to maybe go on a date or something…” 

“Yes?” 

“I’d probably be okay with that… I mean… if you want to” you add the last part, now desperately hoping this wasn’t some awful joke. 

Barley smiles, reaching forward to brush a piece of hair from your face. “Do you wanna go on a date with me?” He asks softly, apparently having gained some confidence back. 

You nod, leaning into his touch before you realize you’re doing it. 

“Tomorrow night?” he suggests. 

Again, you nod, not trusting your voice. 

Barley smiles, his attention turning back to the tv. The match was starting soon, the announcers already talking about what they expect to happen. He leans back, his arm resting behind you on the top of the couch. Not an uncommon thing for the elf boy. What was uncommon, however, was you relaxing against his side and how right it felt.

Without a word, perhaps because he wasn’t sure he could trust his voice either, Barley brings his arm down around you, holding you against him. 

If you had the courage yourself to look up at him, you would have seen the flushing upon his cheeks. But either way this was comfortable and you weren’t in a hurry to end it any time soon. 

*

A few hours later Barley's mom returns home. Maaaybe a little drunk which results in her cooing loudly when she finds you and Barley asleep and cuddling on the couch. 

This, and her half stumbling up the stairs, manages to rouse you and Barley from your comfortable nap.

Barley yawns, and slowly gets to his feet. 

"Come on, I'll drive you home" he offers another yawn soon follows.

"Don't worry, I can drive myself" you stretch, not really pleased with the idea of making the trip home yourself.

"You're too tired- not safe" Barley half murmurs. 

"You're too tired" you retort. 

"You should stay here… on the couch… or I can take the couch" he stumbles over his words. 

You nod in agreement flopping back on the couch. When Barley doesn't leave you raise a brow in question. 

"I was just thinking…" he shuffles from one foot to the other.

You watch him with patient eyes, now a little more alert. You'd let him say what he needed, when he needed not wanting to rush him. 

"I mean… if I don't drive you home I can't kiss you goodbye…" 

His ears were a dark maroon by now and you can't keep the smile from your eyes. His sweetness, his bashfulness, just how God damn cute he was. And most of all… how much you wanted to kiss his pink tinted face. 

So you did. 

You stood, quicker than he could react, grabbed his face on either side, and brought his lips to yours. After a moment of shock Barley’s arms come around you, keeping you too him. 

You can't say for sure if the head rush you felt was from the kiss or standing too suddenly, but you chose to think it was the kiss as you give him several more little pecks before eventually breaking apart with a yawn. 

"Better?" You ask, your head falling forward to lean against his shoulder. 

Barley nods before pulling back, calling a good night to you, and hurrying to his room. 

You chuckle softly before flopping once again on the couch… there'd be time tomorrow to deal with all this… but for now… sleep was calling and the old couch was far too inviting… 

*And that’s all folks*

[anonymous-astronaut]

I love your fanfics so much man and I don’t know how to tell you they inspire me so 💙😭

I was wondering from one writer to another, do you have any tips that be useful to keep in mind? I wanted to start writing and publish for the longest time but I have no clue where to start.

Thank you so much!! That means so much to me, it’s so wonderful to hear that my work inspires people!! ❤️❤️❤️

I can’t say I know anything about the publishing world, but as for writing there are a few practices I do! I’m no professional, but these are some things I keep in mind:

For me, the first draft is just to get everything down. It doesn’t matter what it reads like, I just get something written. I treat it almost like a sketch before a drawing. Once I have the idea of it down, that’s when I go back and focus on coherency, overall tone, and character.

Doves and Arrows, which is definitely the fic I’ve spent the longest time working on, started out as a single scene that takes place like a third of the way through the story. In the idea stage of writing, you don’t have to start at the very beginning if it isn’t coming naturally. For a long time I wrote scenes as came to me, and spent time later putting them in order and sewing them together into a cohesive plot.

If I get stuck, sometimes I’ll just write out the dialog of a scene. I let the characters talk to each other without worrying about setting or descriptions, and sometimes it ends up going in a different direction then I expected. It usually ends up feeling more natural and true to the characters than if I try to force it, and it can really help get me out of a block. Learn everything about the characters you create, and they’ll tell you where they want the story to go.

I’ve found it’s really helpful to reread old chapters (or copy paste it into an app called speechify and listen to it out loud if you’re more auditory than visual like me lol) so I can see the flow of how characters talk and react to each other, and just get in touch with my own writing style.

But honestly, I’d say my biggest piece of advice is to write what YOU want to read. Be your own target audience, write what makes you laugh or cry or grin evilly, and your work will feel genuine and rewarding. At the very least, certainly helps make the editing process more enjoyable 😂

Hope this helps!! Best of luck to you in your endeavors, fellow writer! ❤️

[orange-yarn]

stonegrot week day 7: the future

heyo, friends. breaking my accidental hiatus to actually participate in @stonegrotweek for once! 

for the record, this is set in my strange trails “good timeline” sequel? you might be missing some context if you haven’t read the behemoth that is strange trails. you might be missing some context even if you have read it. that’s fine.

I wrote most of this earlier this summer, but spent some time editing & tweaking this weekend. please note: it is still very much a rough draft, but I have miles to go before I can actually post any sequel stuff on ao3 so that’s okay. I just wanted to share something for the event.

WARNINGS: some light sexytimes (there is actually a steamier version that will live in my google docs forever). also, mentions of childbirth (not at all graphic).

anyway, on that note, here you go. a little glimpse into a stonegrot future, in approximately 1500 words.

-+-

Jen turns three, and a storm tears the sky in two. Deet watches the sky growing dark, shivers when the lightning flashes and the winds howl. Rian knows she’s weathered storms before, in this life, and in another. She’s lived, and she’s loved, and she’s lost. This time, though, in this storm— she breaks.

“Tell me what to do,” Rian pleads, holding her hands tight, trying to hold her steady, to hold her to this moment, to this life, to him. He’s seen her scared, he’s seen her lost and distant, but he’s never seen her so desperate, and he’s afraid. “I’ll do anything, Deet, I swear it. Just tell me what you need.”

“I need--” Deet breaks off, her breaths gasping, her eyes wild. She’s clinging right back, clinging to him, and he takes comfort from that. “I need to know it’s different this time. I need to know this is real. I need to feel it.”

“This is real,” Rian swears, pressing his forehead to hers, hoping his gestures might match his words, but feeling like both must be meaningless. “We’re real, Deet. You’re real.”

Deet pulls back and looks up at him, close enough that their breaths intermingle. One hand comes up to cup his neck, and she runs her thumb along his jawline-- the other drops down to his belt, and then traces lower. She holds his gaze and says, “Show me.”

Rian denied her once, long trine past, and he vowed then to never do it again. He blows out the candles, and lets Deet lead him to their bed. He helps her out of her dress, and then everything else. She returns the favor and then pulls him down with her, capturing his lips in a kiss that’s as sweet as it is desperate. 

They don’t speak. Rian tries to prove with touch what his words cannot say-- that she is precious, that he is devoted. He loses himself in the moment, in her, and lets the rest of it fall away.

-+-

The storms come again, later that summer. If Rian didn’t know better he’d think they were still down in the Sog, battening down the hatches and weathering another monsoon. Winds howl and branches break, rain pounds against the roof of their home, lightning splits the sky as thunder rumbles in the distance.

Deet is silent for three days, jumping at every noise, staring blankly out the windows when she can’t keep busy enough for her mind to be still. On the third day, she puts Jen down for his afternoon nap, and walks straight out into the rain. Rian catches up before she’s made it off the porch, and tangles their fingers together, squeezing her hand tight.

“Hey,” he says, trying to calm the thunder in his own chest, his hammering heart. It isn’t fair, he thinks. It isn’t fair that they unraveled the world where he left her, but she still sees those ghosts. “It’s alright, Deet. I’m here, remember? I’m here.”

Deet opens her mouth, but her words are still trapped, still lost. She squeezes his hand back, and he lets himself relax, if only a fraction. Then she shifts her grip until she’s holding his wrist, and presses his hand to her stomach, holds it there. There’s no sign yet of the new life inside her, just a voice in the back of his mind that whispers three. Rian swallows, and Deet tries to catch his eye. 

For a moment, his words are trapped too. He wraps his arms around her instead, pulling her into an embrace, and wishing he never had to let go.

-+-

“Let me get this straight,” Naia says, dropping her voice low-- so the others can’t hear them in the other room, and so Rian will hear her frustration. “Deet suffered a breakdown, the worst you’ve ever seen-- and your solution was to get her pregnant again?”

“That is--” Rian shoots a nervous glance out the door towards the others-- specifically watching for the flick of Grottan ears. So far so good, he thinks, as their friends chatter around Deet and her swollen belly. She’d put off telling them until this trip-- Rian thinks she might have put it off longer, if she wasn’t already halfway through her pregnancy and very visibly showing. He wonders if she was trying to save them both from exactly this sort of conversation. 

He clears his throat and tries again. “That’s not exactly how it happened. She wanted another childling.” He thinks of that night, of Deet pulling him back towards her, her voice husky and her eyes on him, and only him, as she asked him to stay. “This was her idea.”

Naia stares at him, hard, for the span of several seconds. She’s clearly still frustrated, but she’s looking for a new target. “You should have come down sooner,” she finally settles on, nodding a little to herself as she sinks into the argument, like a comfortable pair of boots. “I could have been checking up on them both.”

“They’ve been alright, Naia. Everything’s been fine.” Rian pauses, and sees something unfamiliar in Naia’s eyes, a level of concern he hasn’t seen often. “What’s the matter? Why are you taking this so hard?”

“I’m not,” Naia snaps, and just like that her eyes narrow and her brow furrows. “You’re my friends, Rian. I want Deet to be well. I want your childling to be well. And I want the two of you to be happy.” She still looks cross, but there’s an honesty there that he appreciates. “Would you fault me for that?”

“Of course not.” Rian can’t quite help it, he pulls Naia into a brief hug, and graciously she lets him. Once he’s pulled away, he clears his throat and asks, “For what it’s worth, Deet’s going to ask you to help her again, when the baby comes. You’re the only one she trusts.” Naia’s eyes flicker again, with that same sad expression. For a split second Rian almost, almost understands why, and just as quickly, that understanding is gone. “If you’re up for it,” he adds, a little uneasy.

“I’ll be there,” Naia promises, her voice soft, her eyes still sad. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

-+-

“No, she’s right….here!” Deet says, guiding Jen’s chubby handprint to her side, her tired smile growing wide as his face lights up with delight. “Can you feel that?”

“She kicked me!” Jen’s practically vibrating with excitement. With just a few weeks left, Rian can see the ripples of movement in the taut skin of Deet’s round, heavy belly as their childling moves within her, apparently feeling Jen’s presence, and making her own known. Jen gasps, his eyes going even wider. “Again!”

“She’s saying hello,” Deet tells him, glancing over their son’s head to lock eyes with Rian. Her smile is warm, and just for him. She turns back to Jen, and reaches out to ruffle his hair. “She’s excited to meet you.”

“Are you ready to be a big brother?” Rian asks, flashing a grin of his own as Jen scrambles for the fair-haired little doll Deet made. He holds her carefully, just the way they showed him. Deet lets out a soft chuckle, and Rian leans in to press three kisses-- one to the top of Jen’s head, one to Deet’s lips, and one to her belly. His family, right where he wants him-- close enough for him to reach out and hold them tight.

-+-

“Why was that harder?” Deet asks, winded and breathless and a little delirious, even as Naia lays the infant on her chest. “I’d already done it once, shouldn’t it be-- oh. Hello, baby.” Her tone changes in an instant, complaint and confusion falling away as she smooths a hand across wispy hair, blonde streaked with blue. The baby blinks up at them with deep brown eyes. She has Rian’s olive skin and teal streaked across her brow. She’s beautiful, and she’s quiet. “Why isn’t she crying?”

“Just give her a minute.” Naia has a towel in hand, rubbing at the baby’s back vigorously. “She’s had a big day.” She helps Deet sit the baby up, and rubs a little more, until the little one lets out a watery cough, and starts to wail. It’s the best sound Rian has ever heard. Deet lets out a sigh of relief, and Naia grins at all three of them. “See? All is well.” 

-+-

They name her Shoni. She doesn’t look much like his mother, but it still feels right, somehow, to pass on that name, to let it live on through his daughter. She’s perfect, from her long, dark lashes to each and every finger and toe, and she and Deet are both perfectly healthy. It feels like a miracle.

“Thank you,” Deet breathes, in the quiet of their room, with their childling nursing at her breast, and snow piling up outside their window. “Thank you, for reminding me.”

Rian doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to. He just winds an arm around Deet’s shoulder, holding his girls close. Outside, the wind howls as the storm picks up, but for once Deet doesn’t shiver. She just sinks into him, her breathing calm and even. Rian knows that the struggle isn’t over, knows that more storms will come, that the two of them will bend, and may break. But for now, he presses a kiss to her hair, gentle, and grounding, and Deet closes her eyes, and rests. 

-+-