#drew this while I waited for some sort of inspiration to strike

[alligatorpie1945]

Once Tech was given a data pad, he quickly hacked it and was able to access the holonet. (Which they were not allowed to have). He and his brothers would stay up late and watch movies together. 99 caught them a couple times, but kept their secret safe.

What do you think they are watching?

[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 8)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 5.4k

Chapter-specific Warnings: Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you all have been waiting for - it’s time for some smut. Descriptions of sex acts (oral, fingering, PIV sex, ya know all the regular stuff), sub/dom themes, biting, a bit of brat-taming, mild attempts at sexy banter. 

Authors Note: My apologies for the sudden hiatus - start of June was a bit rough for me then I lost inspiration for how to write out the scenes in this chapter. Smut is admittedly a bit of a weakness for me so I hope I’ve managed to provide something at least a little entertaining to read. Enjoy the bliss while it lasts y’all. 

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Jack couldn’t believe it - it wasn’t possible, it simply wasn’t possible. There had to be some sort of mistake on his part. Maybe he’d misheard what you said. Barging into his room and pulling him out of bed was one thing, looking at him with eyes that he couldn’t deny where striked with pure lust while you trailed your delicate hands all over him, an action that in of itself was already causing his cock to twitch in his pants, but with what you had asked, no, demanded of him left him utterly stunned. 

He hadn’t wanted to say anything, not wanting to break you from your trance and stop you from doing...whatever you were doing, to him, and now after those words had tumbled from your mouth, he found himself stunned at the position he’d been thrusted into. The one thing he’d been fantasising about and yearning for, everything he’d ever derided himself for daring to think about was being presented to him at that very moment. For you to come to him of your own accord, behaving in such a way that gave an indication that your thoughts were one and the same, that he wasn’t alone in wanting some form of a second chance at this, that you’d most likely thought of him in the exact same way he had of you, then it was only fair that he finally let himself give in to what he’d always wanted. Despite the last shred of rationality in him screaming for him not to do this, he paid it no mind, focusing on your intoxicating eyes staring straight into his own, pleading for him once more in a way that he had never expected to see from you ever again. 

And in all fairness, well, how could he say no to such a pressing request?

Warm lips met yours in an instant, his movements soft yet charged with such desire, his touch stealing the air from your lungs and making you melt further into him, allowing yourself to be caught up by the bliss of having him so close. You could feel your cheeks burning furiously but you honestly could not give a damn in that moment, becoming consumed by the way he nipped at your bottom lip, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you let go of it all. No more rules, no more denial, no more running. Just him, and only him, for now, for tomorrow.

And maybe…forever, too. 

Pulling away from you, Jack stared down into your half-lidded eyes, his own expression being far from the sly smirk you remembered seeing when you’d kissed for the first time years before. Instead, there was uncertainty, an element of caution that was threatened by an overtaking desire for you, and only you. You couldn’t turn away from him, and you didn’t want to either. The invisible line between you two that you’d been desperate to cross for weeks now was now non-existent, as well as any notion of reason or feelings of the contrary. 

Jack was the first to break the silence between the two of you, his hand coming to rest at the nape of your neck drew lazy circles over your skin, every movement fanning a flame of desperation for him. Taking a final deep breath, he finally mustered up the courage to force his confession from the tip of his tongue, one that had been teetering on the precipice for what felt like forever now. “Darlin’, I...I don’t know what to say for myself. I’m sorry. Believe me when I say that I wasn’t meanin’ to break your heart. That was the last thing I ever wanted to do, honeybee” he admitted. “I was scared. I was fucking terrified. The truth is I’ve been running from a lot more than a secret agency for a long time now - losing Lily was one of the worst things to ever happen to me, and after what happened to her I...I just couldn’t bear lettin’ myself get close to another woman again. I wanted to keep my heart guarded, only allowin’ myself the luxury of a long line of one night stands and short term relationships”.

He cut himself off momentarily, his voice trailing off into nothing. You couldn’t turn away from him, becoming transfixed as he pulled you closer still, your head brushing against his chest and hearing how his heart beat furiously, matching your own in rhythm. Something that should’ve felt wrong felt only so right in that moment, and for once you could let go of your fears and your ghosts. Without him saying another single word you knew what he felt, hearing it in the silence around you, a silence that wasn’t empty but instead filled with the rush of intense emotion, the feelings threatening to give way for the longest time finally breaking down into what you two felt now. 

Forcing the words from his throat, he cupped your cheeks in his hands and pulled you up to face him once more. “When you came into my life, I didn’t know what to do. I became scared. As time went on it became harder and harder to convince myself I didn’t love you, so I started to push you away, hopin’ you’d leave me on your own. When you mentioned marriage that night...I panicked. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to marry you, or that I didn’t love you, or any of that. I just couldn’t bear losing you the way I lost her. Cross my heart and hope to die, I promise, sugar, I never wanted to leave you. And if you’ll let me...from this day forward, I’ll never let you go ever again”. 

You were practically speechless at his confession, the revelation of the realities in your joint past sending you dizzy. There it was, the words you had secretly yearned to hear for years upon years - an apology, an explanation for what happened, an acknowledgement of how deeply he cut you open, and now that you had it you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about it. There was an element of relief in there, like it was the end of an era, and that chapter of pain in your life could finally be closed for good. You never thought you’d get a sincere apology out of him but on the miraculous chance you did get one you expected that to be the end. You two would go your separate ways and let bygones be bygones. Except here you were now, wrapped up in his arms, feeling his fingers thread themselves into your hair when you realised you didn’t want that, not anywhere in the slightest. Actually, you weren’t even sure what you did want. Your mind wasn’t focused on anything further than the present that you’d found yourself in, immersed in a flustering mist of longing for him and nothing more. 

“Jack, I…” you started, fighting to push through any remaining sentiment of uncertainty to reveal what your heart had really been begging to say for all this time. “I don’t know what to say honestly…”.

He silenced you by placing a single finger over your lips, his gorgeous brown eyes filled with adoration meant for you. “You don’t have to say anything, sugarpie. You don’t have to do or say anything you don’t want to, alright? I’ve spent too long hurting you, the last thing I wanna do is cause you more heartache”. 

“I...alright. All I do wanna say is that...well, I will. I will let you. I’ve tried so hard to ignore it but I have to face the truth. And the truth is that…” you stuttered, finally swallowing the last of your pride. “The truth is that I never stopped loving you. No matter how badly you hurt me or how much I thought I moved on I hadn’t. Every guy I was with after you never felt the same, and I thought that it was just a sign that I wasn’t meant for love or any of that white-picket fence crap, that I was maybe defective in some way”.

“Sweetheart, don’t you ever say such bullshit again. You’re not defective, far from it, you’re one of the closest things to perfect I’ve ever had the grace of seein’ in my life. I don’t deserve someone like you” he scolded you, his honeyed dulcet tone carrying through your ears and threading his words into your heart and soul. You couldn’t get yourself to speak, every time you went to say something the words dying a painful death in your mouth. There were so many feelings, a cacophony of emotions that had exploded and you couldn’t begin to start deciphering them all.

So you didn’t. There would be a time for analysing later. Instead of puzzling out what this or that meant, you threw the reins over to your emotions entirely and let yourself be guided by them in their wild chaotic rampage, logic and sense be damned. 

“Jack?”. 

“Yes, sugar?”. 

“Just...fuck, shut up and kiss me again”

He didn’t have to be told twice - in a matter of seconds he’d pulled you closer in, catching your lips in his and kissing you breathless. Somehow he made it feel even more magical than the first time, the memories his touch bringing forth for once not being salted with pain and misery. For the first time in a long while, you could well and truly remember what it was like to be loved by him, to be held in such a way and to feel the whole entire world slow to a standstill. He was slow with you at first, gentle in a way that showed one final hint of hesitancy in him, a hint you sought to quash at all costs. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you leaned into him, feeling him slip his tongue into your mouth, his movements becoming all the more desperate until he was caught up in you. He was a fire, consuming everything in his path, and you were more than willing to be engulfed in his blaze. 

You could feel him stir in his pants, the sensation fueling the flame of lust that had been sparked earlier by his mere visage, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding against him softly, eliciting a low growl from his lips. When he removed his mouth from yours his eyes had turned dark, glimmering with a predatory and unadulterated lust. “Strip, sweet girl” he commanded, the timbre of his voice being barely above a whisper and yet still able to make your knees weak. Oh dear god, that voice. You’d forgotten how seductive he could be, his domineering command of tone sending you insane, pushing you to bend to his every want and whim. It went without saying that you had a thing for submission, a position that Jack was always more than willing to play along with when you two had been together - all these years later, he could still remember the exact ways to make you ache. 

Not leaving another second wasted, you obeyed his demands, stepping back from his hold and reaching for the waist of your pajama pants, blushing furiously as he watched you step out of them slowly, his eyes attuned to every move your body made. Every layer removed only did more to further his yearn for you, his lips curling into an observing smirk, a smirk entirely different from his signature cocky cowboy charm, lending into something darker, feral, and a tad bit dangerous too if you were to be honest.

Once every last scrap of clothing had been thrown to the floor, Jack snatched you forward into his embrace once more, lips bruising against yours, his hands tracing your form and settling onto your thigh, lines of soft moans drawing themselves forth from your mouth while he pushed you back down into the mattress of his bed. You let your hands roam his back, tangling into his hair and allowing him to consume every part of you, no part of you left unsure about the semantics of whether or not you should dare to this, leaving only that burning bright spark of lust that you were jumping headfirst, fearless, into. 

“Fucking christ, darlin’. You’re a dream, you know that?” Jack groaned into you, moving his lips from your mouth to your neck, sucking down at your skin so intensely that you were sure it would leave marks. “Trying to mark me up, are you?” you sniggered, heaving your focus away from the blissful feelings his mouth was conjuring in you to make your playful remark. If it were anyone else you might have been genuinely peeved about the potential of developing a hickey - they always seemed so juvenile to you. But with him? Your opinion on them switched sides like a record changer. You couldn’t even begin to care if anyone caught a glimpse of them come the next day either: let them know, let ‘em all know. 

“Just wanna make sure everyone knows who you belong to” he murmured back, towering over you and gazing deeply into your eyes.

“Oh, so I belong to you now, is that how this is all goin’?” you retorted, a faint blush dusting your cheeks as he moved back down to your sternum, lightly teasing your left nipple with his mouth, grazing his teeth against the small sensitive bud and causing you to moan delicately underneath him. Each of his movements made it harder for you to focus on tossing him another jokingly snide comment. When he bit down on you, the sharp mix of pain and pleasure that the sensation of his teeth brought on made you cry out in a burst of short-lived ecstasy. You could hear him chuckle at you, seemingly entertained by the reactions his touch was causing in you. “Trust me, sugar, you’ll be changin’ your tune by the time I’m through with ya”. 

You faux-scoffed at his boldness, enjoying your own game of riling him up. You wanted to get a rise out of him, goad him into going further with you, just the way he’d always liked it, the way you’d always liked it. “Sure, sure, talk all you want. How’s about showing me exactly how you plan on doing that?” you quipped back.

Hearing a low growl emit from him, you felt yourself be shoved further into the mattress, the weight of Jack’s body above you pinning you down and preventing your movement. His eyes were threatening, shadowed with a commanding and domineering essence, his tongue clicking in disapproval at your insolence. “That mouth on you, little girl” he snarled, his fingers tracing your folds and gliding themselves up towards your clit, grinning wolfishly at you seeing how you gasped when he pressed down on it gently. “What do you want me to do, sugarbelle? You’re gonna have to tell ol’ Jack what it is you want, darlin’” he provoked you, rubbing the pad of his finger against your sensitive button, alternating between teasing and touching and making you all the more desperate for him. 

“Inside me...please” you moaned out, echoing off the walls and allowing you to feel grateful for a minute that nobody else resided in the house with you, knowing that if he kept this up you wouldn’t be able to silence yourself. 

“What inside you? Use your words sweetheart” he teased, still circling your clit at a frustratingly slow pace, enough to coax you into moaning for him but also restrained enough that you wanted more. Letting out a small whimper, you mustered up as much force as you could to make yourself beg for him, fighting through the torture he was putting you through by toying with you in such a way. “Fuck, Jack, your fingers. Please…” you mewled breathlessly.

“You want my fingers inside of ya? But you were bein’ so contrary before. Bad girls don’t get to cum, or didn’t you know that?” he responded, his southern drawl set in a taunting tone, the blissful yet tormenting warmth of his fingers disappearing suddenly, leaving you feeling empty and frantic for his return. You glared back over at him in disapproval, causing him to grin malevolently back at you. “Missin’ me already are ya?”. 

“I didn’t tell you you could stop”. 

“And I didn’t tell you you could talk back” he snapped. In one fell swoop his fingers were back on your clit, the sudden pressure taking you by such shock that you bucked your hips into him, arching your back off the bed, moaning out his name with an urgent whine. “You ready to behave and be a good girl for me, sugarcube?” he asked authoritatively, trailing his fingers down towards your entrance in preparation, coating them in your slick and awaiting your final answer. 

“Yes, Jack, I’ll...I’ll be good, I promise” you pleaded. 

“That’s more like it” he murmured in approval. Plunging a single finger inside of you, you arched your back off the bed once more, letting out a sound one could only call whorish feeling him stretch you, cheeks burning a stark rosey red. “Look at you, sweet girl, so wet and ready for me when I’ve only been barely teasin’ you” he spoke with an element of condescension, scissoring his fingers slowly and creeping up towards that one euphoric spot, feeling like everything else around you had fallen away the instant he brushed his fingers against it. Observing you with smugful arrogance, he pumped his fingers into you, savouring every whine and whimper that came from your mouth. He wasn’t holding back in the slightest, his pace fast and rough, playing you in a way that made you see stars every time you closed your eyes in ecstasy. 

Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore you could feel the soft brush of his mustache gliding over your folds, the heat of his breath alerting you to the presence of his tongue, crying out with a shuddering moan feeling the pressure against your clit. “Fuck, fuck...Jack don’t stop” you begged, absolutely lost in the daze of his minstrations, the way his fingers were angling into you at just the right spot that made you crave for more, his tongue refusing to let up as he lapped at your clit like a man starved. Pulling out every last moan and cry you could muster, it wasn’t long before you’d reached your limit entirely, the orgasmic high hitting you with such a force that you felt like you were on cloud nine, as if you were outside of yourself for a moment. Jack was still down between your thighs, looking like the cat who got the cream with the amount of smug satisfaction that was spread across his ridiculously handsome face,  removing his fingers from your cunt and making a show of licking them clean straight to your face. “Look at you, sweet thing, already so worked up and I hadn’t even got to the best part yet” he commented, taking in your flushed appearance and intently watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest. 

Leaning down, he seized your lips once more and pushed his tongue into your mouth, grinning into you once he realised where your hands had wandered - down to the waistband of those bothersome pants that were concealing the cure to your deepened lust, using as much force as you could to tear them off yourself. “Here, let me help ya with that, honeybee” he said with a hint of snark to his voice, bringing his own hands up to where yours were and forcing down his trousers, freeing his cock from its confines. You couldn’t help marvelling a little at the sight of him - sure, it was nothing you hadn’t seen before but it had been so many years, and while you remembered him as being well endowed you found your memory hadn’t served you entirely well, swearing that he was bigger than you remembered. He caught your glance down at him, one you fervently tried to hide once it became apparent that he was well aware of you gawking. “Oh sugar, please don’t be shy, I’m more than aware of the..how should I say...dashing figure I cut”. 

“You should talk less” you rolled your eyes at him, resisting the temptation to smack him over the arm at his own arrogance. Your jive at him caused his cocky grin to disappear, replaced by the devious and dominant glare he had on before. “Isn’t that what I should be sayin’ to you, missy? I thought we were done with all this talkin’ back crap” he reprimanded in a stern tone. “Or would you rather me not fuck you? Rather I’d just leave you there on edge and unsatisfied for the rest of the night?” he continued, leaving feather-light touches against your skin, moving down to nip at your neck softly. 

Feeling the heat in your cheeks rise at that, you let out a low groan as he proceeded to taunt you, the tip of his cock brushing against you and driving you mad with how little he was giving in to you. “No, I...don’t want that” you finished lamely, shaking your head and hoping that would be enough for him to stop playing at you and get on with it, even though you knew somewhat that he was going to prolong his teasing for as long as he could, at least, until he could get exactly what he wanted out of you. 

“Then what do you want, sugarcube?” he asked, faking cluelessness as if he wasn’t actively aware of what he was doing to you. His tone remained as sweet as honey syrup but his eyes told a different story. “I wanna hear you say it, sweet girl. Say it in that lovely little voice of yours” he whispered into your ear, sending a jolt of fire through you and making your thighs clench. 

“I want...I want you to fuck me” you stammered, composing yourself enough to blurt the words you wanted to say out at him. “God, fucking fill me, fuck me til I can’t walk, Jack, please!”. 

“Patience, darlin’, patience” Jack clicked his tongue at you, seeing you glare from underneath him and chuckling lowly under his breath.“But then again, how could I say no to such a request?” he quipped before thrusting his hips forward, pushing his cock into you with one single movement.

Unable to stop yourself, you choked out a moan at the sudden pressure, feeling the length of his thick cock stretch and bury itself in you, the sensation feeling so right and magnificent in that exact moment, the thrill of the rush of feeling him once more doing more to confirm what you’d known but somehow forgotten in all that time - Jack Daniels, the arrogant bastard he may be, was a fucking dream in the sheets. Not needing to say anything, you felt him grind his hips against you, testing the waters before slowly sliding his cock back out of you, only to thrust back into your cunt with such a roughness that your eyes lolled back for just a split second, moaning out his name loudly as he set a hard and rough pace.

“Fuckin’ Christ, sweetheart, you’re so tight” he groaned, resting his head against the crook of your neck and grasping your head in his hand. “You feel so good around me, baby girl. I’ve missed this pretty little pussy so much”. 

You could feel yourself clench around him as he spoke, his sweet southern drawl intoxicating you. His lips were nipping at your jawline again, moving slowly into bites the harder he thrust into you, and his hands had wandered back down to press against your clit, sending shockwaves through your body and elevating you to a higher level of heaven with every subsequent touch. 

Hands knotted back up in his hair, you gazed at him with a lustful expression, eyes dazed and pupils blown out in such a way that you were certain looked pornographic. You couldn’t help it, and you didn’t want to - at the rate he was pounding into you it was only a matter of time before he sent you over the edge entirely “Look at you, dirty little thing. You look so sweet and innocent to everyone else but I know what you’re really like” Jack mused, puncturing his last words with a violent snap of his hips, driving his cock deeper inside you, hitting places you weren’t ever able to reach with your own dainty little fingers. 

“Jack, I’m close” you whined. 

“I can tell. You still on the pill, honey?” he panted out, taking immediate note of the nod you gave in return and letting his lips split into a wide grin at your answer. “Good. So...fuckin’ close, I’m gonna make you cum for me, sugar, make you scream so loud that you’ll be grateful not to have any neighbors listenin’ in”.

His movements became more erratic and rapid as he continued on, signalling that he wasn’t too far off from his own release. The pressure that had been building up inside you was becoming almost too much for you, piling on and on until eventually you snapped. Throwing your head back into the pillows, you shrieked out his name as you came, your walls clamping down and milking his cock for everything he had. You could barely hear Jack cursing loudly over the sound of your own screams, his orgasm hitting him with a full force and spilling his seed into you, the sharp sting of his teeth in the crook of your neck becoming known to you as he keeled over, nestling himself into your neck and giving a last few shallow thrusts for good measure. 

You came to rest with your gaze turned upwards, staring into the ceiling above while you attempted to process what exactly had just happened. There was a line of sweat dripping down your forehead and onto the pillow below - wait, was it sweat or tears? You could have sworn your eyes felt a bit watery afterwards. Whichever one it was, it didn’t matter. The slowing thud of your heartbeat in your chest told you all you needed to know about how you felt. If you had to pick one thing wrong with what went on, it was your surprise that this had come to happen at all. Weren’t you the one who was so staunch in keeping Jack away?

But now, you could see everything so much clearer, and you felt like you were seeing daylight after a seven year long dark night. Being vulnerable to him, feeling some type of way and giving in to the alluring pull of a man such as Jack Daniels didn’t make you weak. Never had, and never will. The fear of coming out hurt on the other side was all but tossed to the wind at that point in time: he wasn’t here to make your heart bleed, and he wouldn’t ever want to see you pained in such a way ever again. Jack had made many mistakes, and he never fought to deny that he hadn’t, but you had made so many too. Fate throwing him back into your life may have turned out to be what one might call a blessing in disguise, since neither of you had ever stopped feeling and hurting for each other, giving you the luck of a second chance at happiness with someone you felt could well and truly understand you. This time round, it was the right time for it, you were both prepared for it. Well, you knew for sure you were but something told you about the desperateness of Jack’s apology to you that he was ready for the future as well.

A future, with Jack, is something you hadn’t thought about in forever. When you saw the look in Jack’s eyes as he ascended from his resting place on your chest, the sweet cedar brown of his irises conveying everything about his heart to you without him saying a single word. His hair was all mussed up now, and there were a litany of marks and scratches decorating his back, which you scarcely noticed until he moved forward to kiss the crown of your head. The scene you two found yourselves in was nothing like the ones from the past - the afterglow felt warmer, safer, and more well-earnt strangely enough.

“Any regrets, sugar plum?” he asked you, searching your features for a sign of discomfort, as if he were almost scared that you weren’t on the same page as him and that you were seconds away from flipping the script on him, though once he saw the gentle smile you gave back to him in turn, you could see plainly that his anxieties were eased. “Nope. None whatsoever”. 

“Good. You’re on top next round, got it?”. 

______

The first thing that you took note of the next morning was the faint scent of sugar in the air, permeating every space of the room you were in and assaulting you with the tempting pull of such a sweet smell. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know that there was something heavenly cooking nearby, your mouth watering upon being delivered an array of tantalizing visions of various desserts. Letting out a deep yawn, you rolled over to the other side of the bed, attempting to pull yourself from your slumber to go investigate what it was when you realised the space beside you was empty. Opening your eyes fully, you searched the room confusedly for a few seconds before you put two and two together to realise what happened. He hasn’t left, he’s downstairs. You breathed a small sigh of relief, deriding yourself for thinking for a second that he would just vanish on you like that - it showed you that despite the events of the night before, some subconscious part of you was still worried that Jack wasn’t yours to keep, and that if you got too close to him again he’d turn to ash right in front of you.

One night of rough sex and pillow talk wasn’t the definitive answer to the emotions that bloomed between you and him. It was more than a start though, it was the potential for something new, and something better. Denying what you felt for him wasn’t doing you any favours, and from the way you were feeling right then told you that it hadn’t been a mistake to cross the line drawn in the sand. The only way to go now was forward.

Reaching out for Jack’s discarded blue shirt, you pulled it over your head and breathed in his own distinct musk - vaguely cinnamon, with a hint of whiskey too. After spending less than a minute searching the pile of clothes on the floor, you snatched your panties up and slid them on, hearing your stomach growl at the continued scent of sugar and eggs wafting up the stairs, a scent that you followed down into the kitchen where you saw Jack at the stove, wearing only his grey sweatpants and showing off every scratch you gave him on his back, flipping blueberry pancakes and looking thoroughly debauched in your eyes. 

You hadn’t needed to announce your presence at all, as the moment you entered the room he’d turned around to greet you, charming smile and all. “Damn it, I was hopin’ to bring this up to you”. 

“How thoughtful. You don’t have to, though, I don’t want you to feel you owe me anything”. 

Setting the spatula off to the side, he handed you a fully stacked plate of pancakes and laughed. “I know I don’t have to, but I wanted to. Besides, what kinda man would I be if I didn’t take care of my girl after such a night?”. 

Your heart skipped a beat at him calling you his girl, though you didn’t reply with any formal answer other than a small hum from your throat. “Well, you are an amazing cook, so I’ll accept it” you joked, taking in the sight of the enticingly delicious breakfast set in front of you and allowing yourself to smile at him in turn. He’d cooked for you many times before, and yet it never occurred to you just how domestic the whole scene you’d found yourself in was, and how much you discovered you craved it. 

 “So…have I convinced you to stay?”.

The grin on his face at your question made it more than worth the leap of faith in asking. “Oh, darlin’, you have no idea”. 

Permanent taglist: @greeneyedblondie44

Cross My Heart taglist: @giselatropicana @absurdthirst @bonktime @over300books @riddikulus-obsessions​ 

[emmies-archives]

Heads and Tails

Genre: Fluff, Angst, College AU

Warnings: Aged up, smut, drinking, blowjobs, good old fashion drunk hookup, self degrading at one point, ahhh non descriptive smut....

Wordcount: 6.8k (my bad)

Summary: You slowly become best friends with Noya. One night you get drunk with him and Tanaka and it leads to drunk confessions. You two start dating afterward, you try to surprise him one day by at practice but his old feelings for Kiyoko bring out your insecurities when you see him talking to her. 

A/N: This took wayyy to long to write, and it’s a lot longer than I expected. First piece for Haikyuu and I was drinking wine while writing most of it so please forgive typos. The ending is ehh because I just wanted to get it finished. 

Inspired by a rp with @astrid-thirsts (....... Its not as much angst as I said)

You couldn’t remember the last time you were excited for a volleyball game. They weren’t something new you went to. You had always watched Karasuno’s boys team play, ever since you were little. Fond memories filled your thoughts whenever you thought about going to the matches. For a while though, there was something missing. The excited cheers from fans started to dwindle and you found less and less seats being filled. There were no longer group hugs when the team won. Replaced with hung heads and silent tears. But you kept going. Even as the boy’s losses stacked against them so high it cast a shadow big enough to drown them. Things started to change this year.

Rumors floated around the school pretty quickly. Apparently, there were knew recruits on the team and they had pretty good potential. It piqued your interest. If there was a chance that the team could start building back the foundation it once had, you wanted to be there to see it.

You decided to take the long way back to your dorm one day. It gave you a chance to walk by the gym where volleyball practice was held. You walked for a while, a tinge of excitement pooling in your stomach at the thought of maybe getting to see the team up close. For years you had watched them from high up in the bleachers. The only constant as the members came and went.

As the gym came into view, you slowed your pace. A part of you wanted to peek through the doors. With a sudden burst of courage, you went up to the doors. The few steps seemed like forever. Reaching a hand out to push one side open, your heart jumped when it slide open right when you touched it. The first thing you saw was a pair of bright brown eyes. The boy tilted his head a bit and you noticed a towel wrapped around his neck.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”

That was one of the first times you had actually spoken to him, you weren’t even sure if he had known your name before. You weren’t a stranger to Nishinoya. He was in a few of your classes; you had just never really talked to him all that much. You didn’t know if it was the fact he was on the volleyball team, or that you had a huge crush on him but, it even thinking of talking to him made you nervous. I wasn’t like you didn’t want to talk to him, he was just overwhelming. Constantly full of energy, lighting up whatever room he walked into. The idea of just walking up to him and striking a conversation was intimidating. So, when one day you got paired together for a project you didn’t know if you were excited or scared.

It was easy to talk to him. A lot easier than you expected. Something about him always drew you in, even if he was going on and on about the volleyball team for the fifteenth time in the hour. The playful energy that exuded from him held a welcoming arm out to you. Like it was offering everything you’d ever wanted, even if he didn’t realize it. But you took it. Grabbed its hand and ran.

Its grasp eventually led to more nights spent with him, even after the work necessary for the project was finished. It sort of became the new norm for you. After his evening practice, you would either go to his dorm or he’d come to yours. The conversations came easier, shifting from class and volleyball to shared hobbies. You learned more about him than you ever thought you would. Every time you left his dorm, your head swarmed with the memories of the night. The entire walk home felt like you were floating, and you kind of felt ridiculous for it. The way your heartbeat sped up when he was close, or how your eyes lingered on him when he wasn’t looking shouldn’t happen. Especially because you weren’t sure if you’d ever get the courage to tell him your feelings. Little did you know, Nishinoya felt the same way.

He started to rush through the end of practice just so he could see you after. Just spending time with you was the best part of his day. He didn’t realize what his feelings were, just that he was happy when he was with you. It wasn’t until he brought you up to Tanaka at practice for the fifth day in a row did he slowly start to think different about you. Tanaka didn’t help either, teasing him about if that’s the reason he left practice early. If you knew about that, Nishinoya was sure you’d chew him out.

Your love for volleyball was only one of the things that drew him in. It was the way you always found the good in something, even if it felt like the world was ending at the time. One time he came texted you about a test in one of his classes, his grade ended up being a lot lower than expected and he was a little annoyed. You just offered to help him study for the next one, wanting to make him feel better. To him it felt like the entire weight was lifted off his shoulders just with that one response. There were other things too, of course. You were incredibly beautiful, catching his eye before you even became friends.

Months went by and the two of you fell in routine. He would meet you halfway between his dorm and yours before classes, walking you to yours which barely left him any time to make it to his. You told him you were fine when he mentioned it to you on accident one morning, but each day he stood under the same lamppost waiting for you. Slowly, without meaning to, you fell in love with him. But it didn’t feel like falling. It was more like stepping into a warm embrace.

 “Yuu?” Your voice was quiet as you called his name for the second time in the past few minutes. Slightly amused you nudged him with your foot under the table, trying to get his attention. “Nishinoya?!”

“Oh, sorry!” He set his phone on the table, a goofy grin on his face when he looked up at you. “Did you need something?”

“I was helping you with your Algebra homework. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“You’re going to be pretty disappointed then, because I haven’t done a problem in at least a half hour.” You couldn’t even be mad at him; all you could do was shake your head. He promised he’d work on his homework for the next hour. He lasted maybe ten minutes before groaning and pushing the paper away from him. ��This is too boring. It’s a Friday, we should go out and have some fun!”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Wanna get drunk?”

 Three hours later, after an embarrassing little bit of Nishinoya watching you get ready as he laid on your bed, you ended up in Tanaka’s dorm room. Drink in hand you sat in his desk chair as Nishinoya and him sit on the ground in front of you.

This wasn’t what you thought when he mentioned getting drunk, but it was fun, nonetheless. You preferred this. Nishinoya was a popular guy so you figured he’d bring you to one of the clubs near campus, but this felt different. Maybe even special. Just you two and his best friend. Something about it was heartwarming. Until Tanaka brought up their manager again. It had been so many times the night already that you were tired of hearing about it.

“I’m telling you, y/n. It is better when she ignores me!” Tanaka yelled emphasizing his words by throwing his arm out, causing his drink to slosh over the edge of the cup.

“Really? I would’ve thought that being ignored would hurt.” You say, trying not to glance at Nishinoya when you do. Your feelings completely opposite your words.

“No, no it doesn’t. I don’t know how to explain it. Noya! You try for me; I can’t think straight.”

“Ahh, I don’t know man.” You didn’t notice the slight discomfort lining Nishinoya’s words or the way he looked to you as he responded. Already on your fifth drink of the night, you started to feel your head swim past tipsy. You caught his glance smiling into your cup as you drank more of whatever concoction he had made you.

“How’s your drink, y/n?” Nishinoya asked standing to make himself another one.

“Really good actually!” Your voice was louder than you anticipated, making you cringe slightly. “How are you so good at making drinks?”

“I learned my secret from those old Italian grandmas on youtube. I just don’t measure anything, letting my heart decide what to put in it.” All you could do was stare at him as he demonstrated. Tossing random things into his cup, trying not to make a disgusted face at the amount of alcohol you watched him pour.

“Did you… put that much into all my other drinks?” His toothy grin was enough of an answer and you stared into your cup. You hadn’t even tasted the liquor.

 Several rounds and a few shots later, it was your turn again. You had brought up the idea to play truth or drink. It was a game you had always played with your girl friends back home, so you decided why not. The amount of alcohol in your system didn’t help either.

“So, y/n.” Tanaka started, you could already see the evil look in his eyes. “Out of everyone on the volleyball team, which one of use would you want to hook up with?”

The question should’ve startled you, it probably would’ve if you hadn’t had the boost of vodka running through your veins and the newfound courage that came with it. Your answer came with no hesitation, you even looked into his eyes as you said it.

“Noya.” Your eyes flicked from his wide eyes to the growing smile on his lips. Not at all aware to the blush that flooded his cheeks.

 “Oh, dayum. I thought for sure you’d drink to that one.” Tanaka said but you didn’t really pay attention to his words. Your eyes focused on Nishinoya, feeling like if you ripped them from him. You’d never be able to look him in the eyes again.

“You’re turn, y/n.” Nishinoya’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper. Not able to tear his eyes away from yours.

Caught up in the moment, you direct your question towards him. “Yu-“

Your words are cut off as Tanaka lets out a loud groan, drawing your attention to him.

“Grossss, you guys can take that shit elsewhere. I’m gonna text Kiyoko again.”

 That’s how you found yourself sitting on one of the campus’s benches, your side nearly pressed against Nishinoya.

“Y/n, you look so beautiful under the light from the lamppost.” In your drunken state, you found his normally constant flirting cute. Your cheeks burn lightly from the deep blush resting on them. The two of you sit in silence after that. Neither of your quite ready to go back to your dorms.

“You know, I never got to ask you my question.” You say as you lean your head against his shoulder.

“You’re right, I forgot.” His response was short, but you could hear the hopeful tone swimming in it. “You can ask me now if you still want to.”

“Yuu, will you kiss me?”

“I don’t think that would’ve worked as a question, y/n.” He answered.

“God, just shut up and kiss me.” You quipped back, moving to face him. He didn’t even respond. Cupping your cheek, you both leaned in, you were too impatient to wait for him. The kiss was soft and sweet, ending too soon. You wanted more.

 Ten minutes later after dragging him to your dorm you pushed the door open. Thankful you didn’t share it with anyone as you pulled him into the room. You gently pushed him to sit on the bed, sitting on his lap arms wrapped around his neck loosely.

“I wasn’t kidding. He spoke. “You really do look amazing tonight.”

You hummed in response, not trusting your voice. Staring into his warm brown eyes, the fairy lights that light up your room danced in the reflection of them.

“You’re so handsome, Yuu.” Your voice is quiet and uneven as you talk. “You always are, I know I’ve never told you that before.”

“You’re drunk, y/n.” His voice matched yours as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“It’s your fault, dummy.” You shook your head, laughing at the amount of alcohol he probably put into your drinks, not realizing how fast you would drink them. “I meant what I said you know.”

“Really? I thought that was just for the game, you wouldn’t prefer someone else?” You could see the hope swirling in his eyes.

“Absolutely not. I don’t like anyone else.” You answered while your hands gingerly played with the ends of his hair.

“You like me?” His eyes widened at your statement and you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“You didn’t realize?” You asked and he shook his head as his answer. “I thought I made it a little obvious, but yes I do.”

Your voice was nearly a whisper as you leaned in close to him. Breath ghosting over his lips, you could feel him shiver a bit and it put a smile on your face. He didn’t have to respond with words to make you know he felt the same way. Your lips connected again, this time different than before. Rough and passionate. Like he was pouring everything he was holding in into your lips. You did the same, every pent-up emotion you felt for him, every lingering gaze you spent trying to make yourself confess, every single thing.

The kiss became rougher, teeth clashing and noses bumping as you pulled closer to him. Unknowingly grinding your hips down into him at the way his tongue slipped into your mouth. A soft whimper slipping from your lips.

“Yuu..” You breathed out when he pulled away, panting himself.

“Fuck, y/n. Your lips are so soft.” He leaned in again, pulling you into another kiss. You could taste the lingering vodka on his tongue as it danced with yours. Both of you fighting for dominance. He groaned as you pushed your fingers into his hair, tugging gently at it. He jerked his hips up and you could feel him against your core. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. You’re just….”

“No, it’s okay.” You said, smiling as you slipped off his lap. Hands sliding down his torso, stopping at his waistband. The tent in his pants already obvious. You looked back up to him, waiting for him to give you some sort of confirmation you could keep going.

He grabbed your hands gently, leaning in to press another short kiss against your lips. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to. Just, let me take care of you.” Confidence flooded your voice in your drunken stupor. He could only nod at your words and you moved your hands lower, palming his hardness through his pants. Enjoying the quiet groans that fall from his lips at the sudden friction. You tug on his waistband and he shifts his hips up, helping you pull his pants down. You move up pressing your lips against his again as you slip your hand into his boxers. Feeling him hiss lightly against your lips at your hand against him.

“Ah, shit-“ You could barely hear his groans as you focused wrapping your hand around his cock, loosely stroking it.

“You’re already so hard, Yuu. Did my answer affect you that much?” He bit his lip nodding again at your words as you worked your hand. A smile tugged at your lips.

You moved down further, placing soft kisses against his abs. Feeling him shudder as you trailed down, stopping at his boxers before pulling them down all the way. His member springing free, slapping against his stomach

“You’re so pretty.” You ran your tongue up the underside of his cock lightly, admiring the way it twitched lightly in your hold before swirling your tongue around the tip as you pumped the rest of his length. Hearing his quiet groans pushed you forward, and you looked up to him, meeting his gaze and you slowly brought more of him into your mouth. Watching as his head fell back through your blurry vision.

“I should be the one saying that, y/n.” He said, his voice unsteady.

You pulled back with a pop, smirking up at him. “Don’t hold back, let me hear you.”

You wait for him to respond before dipping your head back down, taking him into your mouth again. A loud moan fell from his lips as you did, and you had to press your hands into his thighs to keep him from bucking up into your mouth. Once he stilled himself, you started wrapping your fingers around what you couldn’t fit into your mouth. Swiping your tongue over the slit that leaked precum already.

You could feel his thighs twitching under you as you worked your mouth on him. Breathing through your nose and relaxing your throat you pushed your face down until your nose brush against his pelvis. The loud moan that ripped from his throat made you hum approvingly, and you moved your hand to play with his balls. When you pulled away just enough to breathe, he moved his hand to your jaw pulling you up to him.

“Want to cum with you.” Was the only thing he said before pushing up your shirt, helping you take it off. Biting his lip to concentrate on the clasp of your bra that for some reason he just couldn’t figure out. You grabbed his hands gently stopping him before unhooking it yourself throwing it across the room. His heated gaze fell to your chest as he wasted no time in touching you. Squeezing, sucking, nipping. Every time his tongue danced around your sensitive nipples he grew more confident at the soft breathy moans you let out.

He backed up onto the bed, pulling you with him before crawling over you catching your already swollen lips in another rough kiss. You couldn’t stop the whimper the fell from your lips when he ground down into your core. It put a cocky smile on his face, something you weren’t used too.

“Noya, please.”

“What do you want me to do, baby?” His voice was low, and his words were muffled as he kissed down your neck. It was becoming too much, you wanted him. Needed him.

“Fuck me! Pleas-“

You didn’t get to finish your sentence as he pushed your legs open. Swiping the tip up and down your folds a few times before slowly pushing in. Your mouth fell open at the sudden fullness. He didn’t stop until he was bottomed out inside you. You looked up at him once started moving his hips, trying to paint the look on his face into your memory. His eyes blown out in lust as he fucked into you, the way he gritted his teeth trying to quiet the loud moans. It was the last clear image before the night completely blurred.

 The next morning you tried recalling the events that occurred, and it only came in slivers. Like an old movie with holes burnt into the film. The pieces that you could interpret left you with memories of giving yourself to Nishinoya, and him to you. Maybe it was a good thing you couldn’t remember clearly. The way your head ached would’ve only been amplified by the weight of what you did last night. You tried not to think it was a mistake, but it was hard not to. Everyone has a drunken hook up once in a while. You’ve had your share, so why would this one be so different?

It was only when Nishinoya shifted beside you were you pulled from your intruding thoughts. You felt your body tense as he slid his arm over your side and bury his face into your shoulder. He mumbled something incoherent. There was a small voice in your head hoping he was still asleep. But it was nothing compared to the way you felt your heart speed up at the simple action. You closed your eyes telling yourself it was to stop your head from hurting, but you really just wanted to stay in this moment as long as you can. The soft, quiet calm before the shit storm you felt was coming. But, he proved you wrong.

Whispering your name softly as if not to wake you. You found yourself unable to answer him. Waiting to see what would happen, what your reaction to this should be. No matter how badly you wanted to be happy that this happened, you would take whatever came. You didn’t expect him to hum softly and feel his soft lips against your bare shoulder as he gently kissed it. Tangling his legs with yours, you felt him gently rubbing your arm. You couldn’t handle it anymore. His sweetness was too much, and you needed to look at him. Shifting in his hold you turned to face him. A small smile pulled at his lips when you did.

“Morning, y/n.” His voice was a bit raspy, and you found your heart speeding up again at the sight of his tussled hair. The memory of tangling your hands in it flashing across your mind and you couldn’t help the blush. “You okay?”

“Mhm. You’re just really hot.” The words spilled from your lips before you could stop them, and you groaned a little. “Fuck, ignore that. I’m still asleep.”

Nishinoya “When did we fall asleep?” Your voice was quiet, trying to ignore the way his eyes were lighting up at your touch.

laughed at your plea and shook his head, which made you reach up to push the hair that fell in his eyes.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. Was it we fucked for the sec-“

“Yuu!” Your hand covered his mouth, eyes wide at the way he could casually say it. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to talk about it. Just that you didn’t know where to even start. There were so many things you wanted to talk or ask him about now that you were sober. You just weren’t sure if you had the courage anymore. You dropped your hand and shifted your gaze from him, a little nervous.

“Something wrong? Oh no. You regret last night. I’m so sorry, I knew I should’ve waited to make a move when we were sober. I-“ His face pulled into a panicked stare and he started rambling before you cut him off again.

“No, Yuu. I don’t regret it at all. Not one bit.” You sighed looking back to him, trying to reassure his worry. “You were… really good. I just didn’t know how to talk about it.”

“Oh thank god. I was scared I fucked up.” He relaxed a bit, slipping his hand into yours. It warmed your heart how sweet he was being. “I don’t want to ruin this… whatever this is.”

“Do you remember what I said last night?” You asked meekly, hoping he did so you wouldn’t have to repeat it.

“Which part? You said a lot, most of it sounded like my name actually now that I think.” He laughed when you shoved his arm a little, glaring at him. “I know what you said. About liking me, and I feel the same way for you.”

“Then, what is this?” Your heart was pounding in your chest as you asked, and you hoped he couldn’t hear it. The next part you forced out, not wanting to hear the answer. Fearing it would be something that would hurt. “Is this just a one time thing?”

Nishinoya stared at your for a few seconds, completely silent. It felt like forever and the nervousness that pooled in your stomach started creeping up your body. The worst responses flashed through your head.

“No, I don’t want this to be a one time thing. Or anything casual either.” His voice was steady, and serious. You could tell he meant everything he said. “Do you want to go out with me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Nishi. I want to go out with you.”

“Fuck yeah! Does this mean I can take you out on a date? I’ve been wanting to for a really long time just never thought I could.” He rambled a little and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“A date sounds perfect. If its anywhere other than our dorms, we spend too much time in them.”

“Yes!! I’ve been wanting to for so long, I just never thought you liked me back!” His arm slid around your side again and your felt the urge to bury your face into his chest. He squeezed you tighter when you did. “Can I tell Tanaka? I feel like we owe this to him!”

“Sure. But don’t mention what we did?”

“I cant promise you that.”

 You two spent most of the morning and afternoon laying in your bed. There was something about him that made you let your guard down. You could talk to him for hours about random stuff and never get bored. It was a lot nicer in his arms too. You always imagined the way it would feel to be wrapped in his arms. Even when you thought you’d never tell him how you felt. It was nice to imagine though, but it was nothing compared to now.

His usual rough wildness on the court was replaced with a softness you didn’t know his arms had. They were always covered in scratches and bruises from practice. You found yourself tracing the dark marks on his biceps, admiring the contrast against his skin. He had a story for each one. Telling it to you as your finger ran over it, and you could picture each one. You’ve seen him on the court before, he was a fury to reckon with but you didn’t realize how aware he was.

The lazy cuddling only ended when both of your stomachs growled for the third time in thirty minutes. He reached over to your nightstand for his phone, asking if you wanted him to order food in. You were thankful for that, the headache from the lingering hangover still pulsated at the back of your neck.

When the food came, you put on a movie and the two of you ate in silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence. You knew there were things you could talk about if you really wanted to, but you found no need to. There was something about just sitting with Nishinoya that made a sort of warm feeling hold in your chest. It was relaxing, and almost familiar.

 The next two weeks flew by. Your old routine with Nishinoya quickly turning into a new one. Instead of him asking you to study as an excuse to see you, he was already at your dorm when you got back from your last class. Each time you entered your dorm and found him sitting on your bed waiting for you made your heart soar.

What you felt for him before anything happened only amplified now. Lingering gazes turned into lustful ones, soft brushes became loving embraces. It was amazing. Everything you had dreamed of and more. It wasn’t until you came by one of his practices early to surprise him did the doubt slip into your thoughts.

You pushed open the gym door entering quietly, not wanting to interrupt anything. Your eyes scanned the gym looking for him and once you did, your excitement dropped a little. Him and Tanaka were standing next to their manager, the one Tanaka always went on and on about. It looked completely innocent, they were just talking. But you didn’t miss the way Nishinoya laughed or the bright look on his face as she said something.

You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you didn’t even have to. He looked so excited, the way his face was flushed as he swayed on his feet. It was a simple action, they were only talking so why did it have to feel like this?

He had told you about his crush on her before, but explained it was long gone. That it had been nothing but a simple unrequited crush. But it stung seeing him so happy talking to her. Confliction twisted in your stomach. You didn’t want to be the type of girlfriend to get jealous over other girls, but this somehow felt different.

You went up to the first person next to you and quietly asked them to give the bento box in your hands to Nishinoya. It was their captain. You were a little familiar with him from watching all of their games, you just never talked to him before.

“Don’t tell him I came in. Just if you could say I dropped it off?” Your voice was unsteady and you could feel your hands shaking a little.

“Sure thing. Are you, y/n?” You could only nod as your eyes flicked back to Nishinoya still standing by their manager. “So you’re Noya’s girlfriend! I was wondering when we were going to meet you. I was beginning to think you didn’t exist, but he talks about you so much.”

“Yeah, I am. I didn’t realize he talked about me that much. I’m surprised you’re not sick of it.” You laughed nervously a little, trying not to look at them.

“No, he means no harm. He obviously really cares about you, I’m glad he has someone like you. From what I’ve heard, you seem like an amazing person.”

That hurt. You don’t know why it did, but it pulled at your chest heavily. You tried so badly to fight against the way seeing him over there picked at your brain but it didn’t work. Tanaka’s signature laugh echoed in the gym and your eyes moved to them again. Their manager was gone now, but you saw the way Nishinoya looked after her.

You could feel tears start welling in your eyes and you quickly excused yourself. Moving back toward the doors hoping to whatever gods were out there that Nishinoya didn’t see you leave. But, he did. Just as you slipped out of the door he saw you. You caught his gaze when you looked back one last time and it almost felt like the wind was knocked out of your chest.

Fighting everything inside you screaming to turn around and go to him, you ran the other way. You didn’t know what to even say if you were to go up to him.

“Y/n! Wait up!” Nishinoya yelled behind you and you gritted your teeth. Of course, he’d follow you, that’s just who he was. You slowed your pace knowing he’d catch up any moment. Facing away from him you felt his arms slip around your waist as he hugged you from behind. “Hey, sweetheart. I wasn’t expecting you here.”

You couldn’t say anything. It was like your voice was stuck in your throat even though you desperately wanted to speak. Eyes fixed on something in the distance you tried to wipe the upset expression from your face. Wanting nothing more than to turn and bury your face into him, you felt the frustration building in you.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

The concern in his voice hurt. More than anything else so far. You were being stupid, there was no reason to worry. You knew that so why did you feel so shitty? When you didn’t respond he moved around to face you. The panic was evident on his face when he saw how upset you were.

“Baby, what happened?” His voice was soft, welcoming. You flicked your gaze to his eyes and felt a pang of guilt in your when you saw the worry flooding them. You couldn’t help but look away again.

“Nothing. I just forgot something.” Your voice was quiet, much quieter than you thought it’d be. It wasn’t very convincing, and you knew it.

“You don’t have to lie to me. Did something happen today? Is that why you came to practice?” You had to clench your jaw at his caring words. His hands cupped your face gently and you felt your lip quiver at the touch. Without meaning to, you leaned into his touch. Closing your eyes which made a tear slip from your welling eyes. “Baby, talk to me.”

You shook your head trying to shake his worry. “It’s stupid.”

You knew that wouldn’t work, but you tried. The feeling in your chest, frustration over yourself and the lingering hurt from seeing him in there became too much and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Pushing his hands from your face and burying yourself into his arms. The warmth of them didn’t do much to soothe you this time. It almost had the opposite effect. When he hugged you tightly a sob was ripped from your throat.

Crying was something you never wanted to do in front of him. You knew it would just make him worry, and yet here you were wrapped in his arms as your tears stained his shirt. Guilt tore at you again at that thought. He was supposed to be at practice. This was completely your fault. You shouldn’t have even come here to begin with.

Maybe this was meant to happen. The universes way of showing you that you weren’t meant to be together. You could go back to your old ways, watching silently from the stands while she was down there with him. That thought tore through you hard.

Kiyoko was mesmerizing, there was a softness in everything she did. She was so much better than you in every way. What were you even compared to her? You kept replaying the way he looked at her in your head. He looked so happy. Did he ever look that happy with you? You began questioning everything your thought you had known about your relationship.

“Y/n!” Nishinoya’s voice ripped through your intrusive thoughts and you couldn’t help but gasp. You hadn’t even noticed when you knelt on the ground, completely focused inside your own head.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Yuu. Go back to practice. I know I’m being annoying. I-I’ll go to my dorm, its okay.”

“What? No way, I’m not letting you leave.” He shook his head brows furrowing at your statements and apologies. “Let me help you…”

The way his eyes softened as you looked into them made a fresh wave of tears slip down your face. You found yourself spilling everything you were holding in with them. All your worries and fears, the reason you were crying. The way you felt you weren’t good enough for him.

“I saw you and your manager; I can’t help but think I’m not enough for you.” He didn’t say anything to interrupt your tear-filled rambling. “ You’re so amazing, and kind. You’re the best person I’ve ever met and I just…. Maybe you should be with Kiyoko. She’s so much better than me-“

“Stop.” He suddenly spoke out, “Stop it right now. You don’t get to say that about yourself.”

“But I-“

“No! I can’t believe you would even think like that.” His voice was raised a little causing you to snap your attention to his face. He looked so angry. The concern from before gone from his features. You couldn’t take your eyes off of his.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I just, I don’t think I make you as happy as you should be.”

“Stop apologizing, y/n. This is not your fault its mine.” That made you a little confused despite how upset you still were. This wasn’t his fault; he didn’t do anything.

“It’s not your faul-“

“It is though! I know I’m not that good at showing how I feel. That’s why I waited so long to do anything.” He shook his head as he talked, and you couldn’t pick apart the look in his eyes. “Should I have not asked you out? Would this have been better as a one-time thing?”

“What? No, Yuu. Don’t say that.” You felt your voice shake when you responded, it was so quiet you weren’t even sure if he heard you.

“I knew I’d hurt you. Do something to fuck this up. I couldn’t even keep this one perfect thing, could I? God I’m so stupid! This would’ve been so much easier if I wasn’t in love with you. Maybe we shouldn’t even have started dating, I’ve only been an ass to you.” His voice got louder as he berated himself. You knew he had a bit of a temper, but you never thought it would be toward himself.

“Yuu, stop.” He didn’t hear you as he continued beating himself up, “Yuu!”

You shoved his chest lightly to get his attention, panic coursing through your body. His eyes flashed to yours and the tears that spilled from them matched your stained cheeks.

“I’m sorry.. Fuck, I’m so sorry!” He scrambles toward you, diving into your embrace. You’ve never seen him angry like that and it scared you. He could tell, the look on your face when you pushed him made his heart drop. He pulled you to him again, this time he was crying. You felt the tears against your neck as he shoved his face into your shoulder. “Baby, I didn’t mean any of that. I promise. Please, please forget it. I’m not leaving you. Just don’t- don’t leave me.”

Hearing his desperate cries into you made your heart break, forgetting everything that happened before. You sat and held him like he did to you. Giving him a place to let all his fears out in the safety of your embrace.

“It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.” You voice was basically a whisper as you ran your fingers down his hair, trying not to let the tears spill from your eyes again at they sadness in his voice and the way he clutched onto the back of your shirt.

“I’ve never loved someone before. I don’t know what I’m doing.” He spoke after a moment, he felt more relaxed in your arms and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Until you registered what he said for the second time.

“You love me?”

“Fuck. Did I say that?” He pulled away to look at you, eyes wide. All you could do was nod at his question, still processing it. “Shit, y/n. I, uh, ignore that.”

You shook your head rapidly, opening your mouth to say something. Anything. When nothing came out you leaned forward pressing your lips to his. His eyes flew open for a second but then he melted into your lips as his hands moved to bury themselves in your hair.

“I love you too.” You whispered into his lips, but he didn’t hear you. Too focused on your lips against his. You pulled back breaking the kiss to say it again, if you didn’t say it now you knew you’d regret it. He needed to hear how much he meant to you. “Yuu, I’m in love with you. I think I was before anything happened.”

“Really?”

“Let me finish!” You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his eager tone. “You’re so good to me, more than I think I deserve. Hearing you beat yourself up like that. I just…. Don’t ever, ever think I regret being with you for one second. The things you said…… Yuu, they’re not true. You need to know how much you deserve.”

“I’m sorry.” Was all he said. He knew he had a temper, and it usually was directed toward himself. Starting off as a simple thought and snowballing into full on degrading himself. You tilted his chin up making him look at you again, wanting to make him feel better. Pressing your lips to his again, this time less sweet. Deepening it by tugging on his shirt.

“If you don’t believe me… Let me show you just how much I love you, Nishi.” It took one look into your dark gaze for him to understand what you meant. His face flushed and you almost giggle at the sight. “I was heading back to my dorm, why don’t you come with me?”

“But, Daichi….” Nishinoya glanced back at the gym quickly before looking back to you.

“It’s okay, I can wait. Alone. In my dorm. Who knows what I’d do while you’re at practice…..”

“No fucking way, I’m coming with you” That was the first practice he missed on purpose.

[longitudinalwaveme]

Arkham Files: The Flash (Wally West)

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Wallace “Wally” West, also known as the Flash. Session One. So, Mr. West, how are you? 

Wally: Let’s go over the situation I’m in, shall we? My wife and I visit your creepy, Gothic asylum-perfectly legally, by the way- to make sure that Bruce Wayne is okay, and you get us arrested on bogus charges of trespassing. Then you pull strings to get me stuck in Arkham Asylum while I’m awaiting trial, and now you’re trying to have me declared legally insane so that you can lock me up in here for good. How the heck do you THINK I’m feeling? 

Hugo Strange: Your hostility is unnecessary, Mr. West. I am trying to help you. 

Wally: If this is your definition of ‘helping’ me, I’d hate to see what you do to people you want to hurt. Seriously, did you go to the Zoom Academy of Making Things “Beeetttteerrrr”? 

Hugo Strange: I am nothing like Mr. Zolomon, Mr. West. 

Wally: I’ll say you’re not. Hunter...he’s sick. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. But you? What’s your excuse? 

Hugo Strange: I do not need an excuse, Mr. West. You may not realize it yet, but you-and all the other costumed vigilantes-are doing more harm than good. 

Wally: What do you mean, more harm than good? I’ve had my powers since I was ten years old, and since then I’ve done my best to hold to the promise that I made to Uncle Barry: to use my speed only to help those in need, to combat evil-and never for my own personal gain. I haven’t been perfect at it-I’m not as selfless as Uncle Barry, and I’ve got quite a temper-but I’ve tried. I’ve really, really tried. 

Hugo Strange: Let’s talk about your Uncle Barry, shall we, Mr. West? 

Wally: Why? So you can twist my words and use them to make him out to be some sort of misguided lunatic? Not gonna happen. 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, I assure you I bear no ill will towards Mr. Allen. Obviously, you bear a great deal of affection for him. I simply wish to know why that is. 

Wally: Because he’s a hero! He’s brave and loyal and honest and kind and good. He cares about everybody. He uses his powers to protect the weak and help the poor and defend the helpless. He became friends with Albert Desmond when nobody else would’ve given him a chance and got him his job at S.T.A.R. Labs, and he’s tried to help Mick Rory get the treatment he needs for his pyromania, too. He’s raised billions of dollars for charities, and he’s helped to save the world more times than I can count. (Pause) And he does all that while also working for justice as a police scientist! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, the exploits of Mr. Allen are well-known. I was asking you why you, in particular, are so fond of him. 

Wally: Well, he did marry my favorite aunt. (Pause) More importantly, though...as a kid, I really needed a hero, and he….he was my hero. My parents barely knew I was alive, except when I did something that inconvenienced them. When that happened, my dad would call me names or hit me, and my mom would wail and cry and guilt-trip….and then they’d go right back to obsessing over their own problems or arguing with each other. I...I felt like I was all alone, except for Aunt Iris. She was the one person in my family who really seemed interested in me, and she also had this awesome job as a reporter in a big city. She was really cool, but because I lived two hours away from her, I didn’t get to see her very much. (Pause) When Uncle Barry first became the Flash, I didn’t know who he was...but I idolized him. I was his biggest fan! I was even the President of the Blue Valley Flash Fan Club. (Pause, laughs) President and only member. The other kids thought he was cool, but they weren’t as invested in him as I was. To me, he represented freedom. 

Hugo Strange: It sounds as though you were a rather lonely little boy, Mr. West. 

Wally: Yeah, I guess I was. (Pause) That’s why I was so excited when my folks sent me to live with Aunt Iris in Central City during the summer when I was ten. And that’s when I first met Uncle Barry. Like I said, I didn’t know he was the Flash yet, so at first I thought he was...well, honestly? Kind of a dweeb. But then he told me that he knew the Flash and could introduce me to him. I was so excited, I probably could’ve inhaled an entire shoe. Anyway, Uncle Barry used his super speed to change into the Flash and act like he’d been waiting for me to arrive, and that’s when I met the Flash. He was everything I’d dreamed he would be. Even though I had been a little bit of a brat to him as Barry Allen, he treated me with respect; like he was happy to meet me and have me around, and it put me over the moon. Eventually, he started to explain how he’d gotten his powers, and that’s when it happened: lightning struck twice. I was doused in the same chemicals he’d gotten his super speed from, and I gained access to the speed force. It was the best day of my entire life. Besides the day I married Linda, of course. I became his sidekick, and from that point on, he was like a second father to me. He laughed at my stupid jokes, got me ice cream, took me on field trips, played games with me….all the things I dreamed of having my dad do with me. Eventually, he told me his secret identity. It was shortly before he and Aunt Iris got married, and I was ecstatic to learn that my favorite aunt was going to marry my hero. I was the ring bearer at their wedding, and from that point on, Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris basically raised me. They helped me through my parents’ divorce. Uncle Barry taught me how to balance a checkbook and apply for college scholarships; Aunt Iris helped me get my driver’s license and taught me how to really notice when other people were in need. (Pause) If it hadn’t been for them, I...I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. Maybe I’d be one of Captain Cold’s strays right now. 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, let me posit a question to you. If your uncle loved you so much, why did he put you in a costume and allow you to fight dangerous criminals? You became the so-called Kid Flash at ten years old, and by the time you were eleven, you had already faced the Weather Wizard, Captain Cold, and the first Mirror Master-to say nothing of your garden-variety gangsters and thugs. Surely, a responsible adult would have ensured that you stayed far away from such violence...and yet Mr. Allen seemed to almost thrust you towards it. 

Wally: (Annoyed) Thrust me toward it? Are you kidding? If Uncle Barry hadn’t allowed me to be his sidekick, I’d have struck out and done superhero work on my own. I wanted to be just like him, remember? If anything, I thrust him into letting me fight criminals. (Pause) Besides, it wasn’t like he was just letting some random kid fight crime. I had super speed, remember? The chances of my getting shot were virtually nil. And the Rogues have a thing about not hurting kids. I wasn’t in any particular danger, especially not with Uncle Barry watching out for me. 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, you obviously are unaware of this, but your uncle is a very sick man. 

Wally: Have you been listening to anything I said? Uncle Barry is the best man in the world. If that makes him crazy...well, I don’t want to be sane! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, I understand that this is difficult for you, but you must face reality. Your uncle was a very eccentric, very lonely man. He had few friends; most of his life was absorbed in his work. He always wanted to be someone special, but he knew that slow, lazy Barry Allen was no one important. Like you, he idolized a superhero-in his case, the Mystery Man known as Jay Garrick, and, like you, he wished that he, like his hero, was special. When his metahuman powers were activated by the lightning strike, his mind, already fragile from years of being mocked and looked down upon by his peers, shattered. He decided to use his powers to emulate the hero he had read about and idolized as a child, so that he could finally be special. Eventually, his antics drew the attention of other, even more damaged individuals, thereby indirectly inspiring the debut of all the costumed oddities that both you and your uncle spend so much time playing cops and robbers with. And then he met you. Another lonely little boy who wanted to be special. When you got your powers, he saw a chance to expand his fantasy world; recklessly endangering you. He may have been deluded enough to call you a sidekick, but what you really were was a child soldier. No wonder your life was sent into such a tailspin when he was temporarily lost in the speed force five years ago. Without him around to help maintain the fantasy that he had indoctrinated you into, you were lost, and the only solution you could think of was to take up the role that he had once filled. You are not a hero, Mr. West. You are a sad, deluded child; just as your uncle is a sad, deluded man. But I will see that you get the help you need. 

Wally: (Furious) That’s a load of bunk, and you know it! I don’t know what your game is, Dr. Strange, but you’re not going to get away with dragging my uncle’s name through the mud! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, your loyalty to your uncle is misguided. He is a dangerous vigilante, one who took advantage of your innocence and loneliness to turn you into yet another costumed freak. What he did to you was wrong, and it is my duty to make sure that you, and the rest of the world, realizes that fact. 

Wally: (Very loudly) Don’t you talk about Uncle Barry that way, you filthy liar! (Stands up rapidly; knocks over the chair he was sitting in) 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, I would advise you to refrain from such open displays of hostility. Otherwise, I will have to recommend that your children not be allowed to visit you, for the sake of their own mental health. 

Wally: And how do you think it affected their mental health to have their parents locked up on phony charges, huh? 

Hugo Strange: Neither of you were fit guardians for them, Mr. West. I understand that having them separated from you was upsetting, but it is for their own good. You and your wife obviously love them, but you are too ill to properly care for them, and your wife was only enabling your behavior. It was simply not a safe environment for the children, so they have been removed from your home until such time as you have been cured and can properly care for them. Two generations of costumed vigilantes is quite….(Hugo Strange is frozen solid) 

Capt. Cold: And he’s got the nerve to call us crazy. Really, accusin’ you an’ your missus of being bad parents? I seen how you dote on those kids, West. Only a nutjob could think you were unsafe for ‘em. 

Wally: Captain Cold? 

Capt. Cold: The one and only. You ready to bust outta this joint, kid? 

Wally: Are you seriously asking me to help you escape prison? 

Capt. Cold: Sam got Lisa and all the guys out already, and I’ve pretty much already escaped, kid. Just figured I’d be nice and get you outta here, too-before the Doc decides to give you a lobotomy. (Freezes and breaks Wally’s metahuman power dampener) Besides, Central City is furious over what happened to you and your missus. They ain’t exactly gonna expedite you back here. 

Wally: All right...but as soon as Iron Heights gets rebuilt, I’m taking all of you Rogues straight back there. 

Capt. Cold: I wouldn’t have it any other way. (Pause) C’mon, kid. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.

[cryingoverafictionalcharacter]

Freckles

Request: Hii!! It’s me again :) Can i request a Fred x reader were the reader is staying at the burrow and she loves drawing people, so one day she decides to draw Fred without him knowing and it sort of ends with Fred confessing? Thank youuu

A/N: Not to be dramatic, so this is the cutest fucking thing ever, thank you so much for requesting @florencxs​ I hope you enjoy!

Prompt: You absolutely love drawing people, especially a particular Fred Weasley, which becomes obvious when you stay at the burrow for the summer, and he catches you drawing him.

You were sitting on the couch in the main room of the Burrow, sitting in front of the fire, and doodling in your sketchbook as you waited for inspiration to strike you with an actual subject to draw. You were the only one in the main room, the rest of the Burrow residence either asleep, or in the kitchen finding something to eat, Fred included.

You were invited to the Burrow by Fred and George. Earlier in the year, you were talking about not being excited to go home, because your parents were never really home and you would most likely spend the Holidays alone. So as soon as they could, Fred and George sent a letter home asking if you could stay during the holiday, and of course Molly said yes.

You were disrupted from your drawing when Fred walked into the room, looking at you before trying to peer over the edge of your notebook.

“What cha doing?” Fred asked, pouting when you shut the book which made you laugh.

“Just doodling, nothing interesting” You said, brushing it off. 

“Well that's a lie, you’re always interesting” Fred said sitting in the spot across from you while a blush dusted your face.

You weren't going to lie, you had a crush on the older Weasley twin, ever since second year when you accidentally tackled him as you were running from Filtch after you dyed Mrs. Norris Purple. It was harmless, easily reversible with a spell and pet friendly, but that didn’t help to water down his rage at all. Still, it was worth it because it was how you were introduced to the Weasleys in the first place. Now in your sixth year, you and the twins were nearly inseparable, though your crush on Fred remained. 

You opened your mouth to answer Fred’s compliment, but were interrupted as Molly entered the room, followed by everyone else.

“We’re off to Diagon Ally to do some last minute Holiday shopping, would you two like to come?” Molly asked you and Fred

“I’m alright, thank you!” You said smiling at Molly

“I think I’ll stay back as well” Fred said

“Alright, well we’ll be back in a few hours, you know where everything is if you need it, have fun” Molly said, and with that, her and everyone else left though the fireplace, leaving you and Fred alone.

“Is it cool if I hang out in here with you? I need to work on an assignment. Snape, assigning reading over a holiday. It should be a crime” Fred said, making you laugh and nod. You had been assigned to read the same book, something about different herbs and their properties, but you had finished it earlier in the week.

“Sure, I don’t mind” You said, watching as Fred got situated on the other side of the couch before opening his book. You watched him for a second, before opening your sketchbook and opening to a new page, inspiration suddenly striking you.

About half an hour had gone by and you were currently working on getting the freckles on your drawing just right, your eyes darting from Fred, to your page, and back again, but you still couldn’t get those damn freckles right.

You placed a few more dots, looking up to make sure you placed them correctly before making eye contact with the man you were currently drawing, causing you to jump a bit in surprise.

“Its hard to focus on reading when you keep checking me out” Fred joked, causing your face to heat up but you played it off by rolling your eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself Weasley, I was looking at..... The wall” You said like a question, just saying the first thing that you saw.

“....The wall” Fred said, more like a statement.

“Yep” You said, not giving into his look of disbelief.

“You mean to tell me... you’ve spent the last half hour drawing that wall” He said pointing behind him. “The only wall in the whole house with absolutely nothing on it by the way.”

“Yeah, Its very complex” You said, continuing worth your lie, trying your best to look him in the eye.

“Huh, well can I see your complex recreation?” He asked, causing your face to heat up even more.

Shit

“No, its not done yet, and I haven't gotten the blankness quite right and- Hey!” You stammered, suddenly stopping when Fred snatched the book out of your hands and turning to your most recent drawing, which of course, was of him.

You didn’t even try to grab the book back out of his hands. It was too late. He had seen it. He was currently still seeing it. You were screwed. This was it. This was the end of days, the day he found out that you liked him and-

“You drew this?” Fred suddenly asked, snapping you out of your trance. The softness of his tone surprising you.

“Well, yeah” You said, not quite sure how you were supposed to respond.

Fred held the sketchbook, eyes looking over every fine detail as a smile crossed his face.

“Do you like it?” You asked after a moment of silence, not sure how to feel about his reaction.

Fred's eyes finally met yours and suddenly you realized how close you were together, Fred having moved closer when he stole your book.

“Yeah, I do” He said, looking back at the page “The way you’re able to pay attention to every detail, how you are able to see the pieces of a persons personality poking through, how you make every line seem so delicate but so intent. Its amazing” He finished, looking back at you.

There was a beat of silence as you both looked into each others eyes, before suddenly yours darted down to his lips and back. His eyes did the same, but his gaze lingered for longer, it was more intentional.

“Y/n, can I-” Fred asked, but you didn’t let him finish, you knew what he was going to ask. So before he could complete his question, you closed the space between you two and placed your lips on his.

Fred took no time to respond to the kiss, moving his hand to the back of your neck to bring you even closer together. Meanwhile your hands moved up to cup his face, reveling in the feeling of his lips finally being on yours.

After a moment, you pulled away, needing to get some air, not being able to hide the giant smile on your face, which Fred mirrored.

“We’ll about time” Fred said, making you laugh before swatting his shoulder.

“You weren’t giving me many hints ya know” You defended.

“We’ll I didn’t know if you liked me or not! But now thanks to your amazing drawing skills I do” He said, making you smile.

“Well I’m glad you like it, even though its actually of George” You joked, causing Fred to make a horrified face

“It is not!” Fred said as you laughed hysterically.

“No Its you I’m kidding, George had much better hair” You said, continuing the joke before being tackled onto the couch, Fred poking your sides and making you laugh.

“Take it back!” Fred said, not letting up on the tickling attack as you tried to squirm away.

“Okay! Ok, your hair is better” You said, Fred finally stopping and looking at you, a smile on his face.

“That’s what I thought” Fred said, causing you to roll your eyes.

“You’re so full of it” You laughed

“Nah, you love me” Fred defended, a smile on his face.

“Its truly a curse” You replied, making Fred laugh before he ducked his head to re connect his lips to yours, the notebook now long forgotten on the floor.

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

A/N: I hope you liked it! I never know how to end these so sorry if the ending sucks lol. Feel free to leave any requests you may have!

[writtenonreceipts]

If you're taking prompts, maybe for feysand - Person A catches a bus home everyday, but today, they're so exhausted that they fall asleep, suddely they feel a light tap on their shoulder and open their eyes to see person B smiling at them. "Sorry to wake you, but this is your stop, i hope you slept well"

<33

Oh my darling anon, I am always eager for prompts! Thank-you for sending this in! I altered just a few minor things, ie trains and not not busses and the diologue is just worded diff... and then over indulged in my own whims and fancies, just a touch.

2.7K words of fluff and awkwardness...all i know is awkwardness so ya know...

 #

Strangers and Favors

Exhausted.  Tired.  Sleepy.  There were far too many ways to describe what Feyre was feeling.  Not even the coffee in her hands was doing anything to give her the boost she needed.  

Amid the chill of morning and the slowly growing light of dawn, Feyre found herself hurrying from her car in the park-and-ride lot.  She practically flung herself up the small steps that led to the train platform and into the first train car she was near. 

She’d been running late that morning and nearly missed her alarm.  Alis had been a dear and poured her coffee in a thermos, but Feyre hated the feeling of being rushed.  Especially after a poor night's sleep.  And when it was five thirty in the morning.

Feyre slipped into a seat before she could finally tell herself to breathe.  She’d made it onto her train with only a few minutes to spare.  Thankfully there were other straggling passengers filtered into the train car and made their way to their various seats.

Feyre took a long sip of her coffee and tried to convince herself that she wasn’t really tired.  Even though it was far too early to be awake and she had an hour and a half train ride to sit through.  

Dawn had barely begun to rise over the horizon with not even the promise of pink and blue streaks through the sky.  She sighed and drew out her sketch pad.  

She was barely into starting the picture--of what she had no idea--when the train started moving and a form fell into the seat across from her.

Feyre blinked and glanced up.

There were plenty of other open seats lining the train.  Granted the place she’d found herself was the only one with a small table set up, but still.  

Sitting across from her was a man far too attractive for his own good.  He wore a black suit with a deep navy-blue button up beneath.  No tie, only the top few buttons of his shirt undone giving a peak at a series of tattoos on his chest.  His black hair was styled in a neat wave revealing a chiseled jaw and glorious eyes.

Feyre tore her gaze away before she could be accused of staring.  But honestly, who could blame her?

Over the course of the train ride, Feyre finished her coffee and scribbled out at least four pages worth of drawings.  Unfortunately, inspiration didn’t strike.  Not that it was surprising.  She’d not drawn anything new in months.  Oh, she’d tried.  She could sit for hours on this train, on her balcony, or out in the middle of the forest with a pencil in one hand and paper in the other--and nothing.  Nothing would come.

Alis always told her that she couldn’t force herself to draw.  She couldn’t force herself to be inspired if she didn’t make the conscious choice.  But Alis didn’t understand that sometimes, it was too damned hard.

The train ride passed without excitement.  Not even the man across from her did anything interesting.  Figured.  He was so attractive his life had to be mundane.  At least, that was what Feyre told herself while she was not covertly looking at him

She was glad to get off the train when it reached the city.  After making sure she had her things, she slipped out and onto the platform without trouble.

#

Chaos was not something she enjoyed.  

Especially not lately.  As long as everything was in its place of simplicity, life could continue on as normal.

Honestly, if Feyre could have chosen a simple life involving nothing more than eating donuts she would have chosen it.  Because living in a state of missed calls and impatient clients and looming deadlines was far from her state of happiness.

With a bag of donuts from Rita’s bakery in one hand, Feyre collapsed in her seat at the end of the day.  She’d managed to leave work five minutes early giving her enough time to swing into Rita’s and grab a few treats.  And she would not apologize for it.

“Long day?” 

Feyre glanced up to see the man from that morning taking a seat across from her.  He had an amused sort of expression on his face which made it even harder to look away.  Feyre snatched a frosted chocolate donut from her bag and glared at him.

“No.” She took a giant bite leaving sugar to lace around her mouth and narrowed her eyes at him.

He grinned and shook his head.

Feyre was able to finish her donut in peace and managed not to stare at the man the rest of the train ride home.

#

Life continued.  And much to Feyre’s dismay, nothing changed.

Her sketch book remained empty.  Her coffee remained dull.  Work did not improve.

Something needed to change.  But honestly, she couldn’t figure out what it was.  She’d left her ex months ago.  She’d gotten a new wardrobe, a new phone, moved in with her friend.  She’d started getting out more too.  Somewhat.  When Nesta called, which wasn’t often but at least her sister was trying.

It was five-thirty in the morning and she was seated on the train, again.  And the man who seemed to only own clothing that was black was seated across from her, again.  Since that first day of seeing him, he hadn’t tried talking to her again, which Feyre was semi grateful for.  She was certain she would just make herself look like a bigger idiot than before.

Had she really stuffed her face with that giant donut?

Not that she cared.  She could do whatever she wanted.

Except draw.

Feyre stared out the window of the train.  It was slowly starting to get lighter sooner and Feyre now had more scenery to watch instead of the reality of the empty sketchpad.

Inevitably, however, Feyre found her attention drawn to the man across from her.

There was something about him.  Feyre couldn’t place it, exactly, perhaps an energy of some kind.  Or it was his confidence.  Arrogance.  Something.  She found him mesmerizing.  How stupid was that?  A man she had said one word to and ignored for an entire month and she could help but watch him.

He did a cross word every morning.  Texting someone throughout--or else cheating and looking up the answers.  Other times she caught him reading a book about astrology or NASA’s recent magazine release.  She wanted to ask him about the astrology, it was such a fascinating topic, one that she liked learning about.  But she never knew how to strike up a conversation, so she remained silent.

She’d always been good at staying silent.  At least that was what she’d been told.

The thought came so suddenly that Feyre had to physically shake herself to make it disappear.  She sat up in her seat, hands clenching in her lap.

She snapped her attention away from the train window and forcibly removed her sketchpad from her bag.  In a fury, Feyre moved her pencil across the page.  It wasn’t the bed utensil to use, but it was better than bringing her entire art supply on the commute to work.  The pencil would suffice.

It wasn’t as though she liked being quiet.  It wasn’t as though she didn’t have anything to say.  Sometimes it was just easier.  Sometimes it was just better.  Sometimes the silence was how she communicated.  Sometimes people just didn’t understand that.

The scene came alive beneath her fingers.

Mountains and stars.  Storms and shadows.  All convalescing on a shape.  A person.  A…

Feyre frowned at the scene.  Someone was kneeling on a throne of night and she couldn’t see their face.

“Do you always glare at your art like that?”  The midnight voice broke Feyre out of her revere.  

Glance up, Feyre locked gazes with the violet eyes of the man across from her.  The crossword in his lap was complete.  Feyre realized for the first time that he was younger than she’d originally thought.  Maybe about five years older than she was.  And even though he oozed arrogance, there was almost a genuine sort of smile dancing across his lips.

“Only when it’s being difficult,” Feyre answered.  She offered a brief shrug and gestured to the crossword on his lap. “Do you always cheat at the crossword?”

He made an affronted sort of gasp. “I don’t cheat.”

“You’re always on your phone when you scribble answers in,” Feyre pointed out.  She smirked, unable to help it.

“I’m texting with a friend,” he said, “she’s always trying to finish the damned thing before me in the mornings.  All I do is offer a bit of...encouragement.”

“Right,” Feyre said doubtfully.  She shook her head, still smiling.

The man watched her, almost confused, before he leaned forward.  “And the art?  It’s the first time in over a month I’ve seen you actually draw something.”

“I was searching for the right inspiration,” she said.  And then as she found herself nearly drowning in the heat of his gaze--Feyre had what she’d been hunting for. “Sometimes it just takes a while to find.”

The train pulled to a stop where they usually got off.  Feyre collected her things and half expected the man to be right at her side when his phone went off.

He muttered something under his breath before answering it.

Feyre almost had half a mind to wait for him.  To linger on the platform and dredge up some excuse so that she could talk to him.  If only for a moment longer.  She still hadn’t asked him about the astrology book.

Instead she was swept up in the crowd of commuters.

#

For the next two weeks, Feyre was out of her mind with anxiety.

There really was no other way to describe it.  Because every morning and every evening when she would board the train there would be no sign of her mysterious companion.  Not even the sight of him running to try and catch a ride before the train completely left the station.  Not even a hint of him getting on a different compartment one day by accident.  Nothing.

So, naturally, her mind told her that it had something she’d done.  Something she’d said.  Hell.  She hadn’t even done anything that stupid.  Aside from stuffing a whole ass donut in her mouth.

She was an idiot.

Eventually she was able to push thoughts of her mysterious companion aside.  Not only was she drawing again, but her workload had increased.  And now she was getting up earlier and staying later and her schedule was entirely too chaotic.  

She really missed the simpler days of dashing into Rita’s or relaxing on the train bench not staring at the man across from her.

After two weeks of commuting alone and another two weeks of being run ragged at work, Feyre finally found herself being able to return to a normal timeline.  Somewhat.  At least she was going to be able catch her usual train home and get home before ten o’clock.

Feyre fell into her seat and leaned up against the window of the train.  She didn’t mean to fall asleep.  Not really.  But as soon as she was seated and relaxed her eyes drifted shut and she was gone.

The next thing Feyre knew there was a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry to wake you, but this is your stop,” said an all too familiar voice.

Feyre’s eyes snapped open and she nearly flung out a fist to the shape in front of her.

“I take it you slept well?” Her mysterious companion snatched out a hand and caught hers before it made contact.  He gave her a cheeky grin. “You didn’t even twitch between all the other stops.”

Feyre blinked up at him.  Sleep still addled her brain and he was making no sense whatsoever.

“What?” she finally managed to spit out.

“Your stop?” he said, jutting a thumb to the train doors. 

Feyre cursed, loudly, and jumped up. “I barely even closed my eyes,” she grumbled.

“Here, let me,” her companion grabbed her bag for her and helped her off the train before it took them all the way south to Hybern.

“Thanks,” Feyre said as they stepped out onto the platform.  She accepted her bag from him and gave him a smile. “It’s been a long couple of weeks I guess.”

In the still fading evening light, Feyre was able to see his easy smile and the way his eyes crinkled softly.  His black hair was tousled easily as if he’d been running his hands through it recently.

“It’s not a problem,” he said, “in fact I was surprised to even see you.  It’d been a few weeks.”

Feyre blinked.  He’d noticed she wasn’t on at her usual time?

“You were gone for a while too,” she said without thinking.  You idiot.

Her words seemed to catch him by surprise, but not for long.  A gleam flashed in his eyes.

“You noticed, did you?”

“You noticed me,” she shot back quickly.

They stood in silence as the train moved on with a loud whistle and the last few men and women passed them by hurrying to catch their connecting busses or get to their cars.

His smile stretched into a full grin. “I’m Rhysand.”

“Feyre,” she said, returning the smile.   She then noticed the small paper bag he held in one hand.  Immediately, Feyre recognized the logo on the outside.  “Rita’s?  That’s my favorite place to stop at after work.”

“Yeah, uh,” Rhysand said as he ran a hand through his hair, “I noticed and decided to give it a try.”

“And?” Feyre pressed.

“I have you to blame for my new addiction,” he said.

Feyre laughed, shaking her head.  “I take full responsibility, though I will not apologize.”

Rhysand paused only for a moment before he glanced at her and an almost sheepish smile crossed his features. “Have you been to Dreamer’s? It’s a late-night coffee shop on Main.”

“I haven’t, but I’ve been meaning to,” Feyre admitted.

“My treat,” he said almost immediately.  “I mean, if you want.  You can tell me about what helped you find the inspiration to start drawing again.”

Feyre blinked at him remembering that train ride over a month ago now where she’d finally been able to draw more than a few measly lines.  And she realized now as she watched a halo of light glimmer from the setting sun around his head that all this time she’d been trying to draw him in the outline of mountains and stars.

“Deal,” Feyre said. “But you should know, I don’t give up my secrets lightly.”

Rhysand quirked a brow. “Noted.”

They spent hours sharing secrets.  The small kinds, the simple kinds.

Feyre learned that Rhysand’s brother had broken his leg playing football and needed surgery which was why he’d disappeared for a few weeks.  She learned that it was his mother who taught him about astrology before she died not that long ago.  And now he spent most of his time trying to avoid his father.  

She’d told him about her love of painting, of art, of creating.  Anything that made her feel alive.  She’d told him about walking out on her old life and how here she was six months later and still desperate for change.

They were both trying, it turned out, to become something different.

It wouldn’t be until later that night--after sunset when the inky black sky gave way to the millions of stars overhead--that Feyre found herself home.  Rhysand, of course, made sure she’d arrived safe and she’d rewarded him with a brush of her lips to his cheek and a small smile over her shoulder.

It wouldn’t be until later that night--amid the cool mid-spring air that promised a new dawn--that Feyre would pull out her sketch pad.  She would draw sharp lines and angular features and a man kneeling amid the night.  She would draw power and beauty in something, someone, she didn’t know perfectly.  But one day.  One day, maybe she would.

#

thanks for reading my dears!  i am always eager and open from prompts so thanks for sendin gthem!  I really do enjoy them!

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[penguinsledder]

look into your eyes (and the sky’s the limit)

Rating: K+ (maybe T for some crass language?) Word Count: 4.8k Genre: Romance, FLUFF

ff.net | AO3 | ko-fi

“If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it,” he said with a smile, his eyes never leaving hers. 

A fluffy in-universe Kataang AU where Aang saves the world without her, and they meet after the war instead. If you’ve ever wanted to read love at first sight Kataang, pining!Katara, and smack in the middle of charming and dorky!Aang, this might be up your alley. Inspired by the song “Helpless” from Hamilton. For @kataang-week‘s Kataang Valentine’s Bash 2021, with the prompt pair air and water.

A/N: HAPPY VALENTINE’S YALL! Before you read this I must also plug the absolute cutest crossover art by tumblr user @minky-for-short, which also served as an inspiration for this fic. Aang’s 15 here, btw, and Katara’s 17.

This is by far the LONGEST oneshot I’ve written (it was originally supposed to be so short but it got away from me) and … here we go.

I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, or Hamilton.

--

Katara was not enjoying herself.

She’d only been back at the South for a week when they’d received word of a grand ball at the Earth Kingdom palace, celebrating the anniversary of the reclamation of Ba Sing Se. And while her father and brother were no strangers to these events as the Southern Chief and Ambassador, Katara was very well a fish out of water.

Sure, she’d attended some functions as a master waterbender during her stay at the North, but it was never anything of this magnitude. The glittering gold and jade green that colored the walls were far cries from all the icy whites and blue she was accustomed to all her life. Her gaze swept the room as she took in the hundreds of people gathered, all dressed to the nines in the latest fashion of their nation.

She herself wore a high-collared ocean blue dress with fur trimmings. She decided to wear her hair down for the occasion, but kept her signature tiny braids so she wouldn’t look too different (hair loopies, she could already hear her brother saying). Patterned white and blue bracelets adorned both her arms, standing out against her brown skin. Animal hide boots just peeked out from underneath her long skirt, completing her unmistakably Water Tribe look.

It was one she wore with pride. However as the night went on, she was realizing that if the room were any marker, the Water Tribes were very few compared to the populations of the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation. On top of that, the Southern Water Tribe was almost completely cut off from the world during the war, so their specific styles hadn’t been seen by the rest of the world in years. And how different they really were—the garb she wore seemed almost out of place alongside the silk robes and dainty shoes common to both larger nations. She’d even been getting looks from different people, some curious, some confused, and some just plain rude.

As if to drive the point home, a gaggle of giggling Earth Kingdom girls with powder-white faces passed by and gave her a cold once over, making her face burn. She tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear self-consciously as she heard the click of a tongue, then more muffled giggles before they went on their merry way.

She was highly considering bending some of the nearby punch onto their faces when a familiar voice cut through her thoughts.

“Enjoying the party?” She stopped, sighing—it could only be one person.

“No,” she grumbled as she turn to face him. He stood out from the crowd just as much as she did, though he was clad in garments colored a shade darker than hers. “You shouldn’t have brought me here, Sokka. This isn’t my job.”

“Oh, lighten up, little sister!” He elbowed her. “You deserve a break after all that training at the North Pole.”

“That’s why I went home! I wanted to spend some quiet time back home, not at some grand party where I don’t know anybody,” she said, gesturing wildly.

He scoffed. “You’re practically the princess of the South Pole. Think of it as political work.”

She smirked, seeing her opening. “Princess, huh? You introduced yourself as a prince, didn’t you?”

“It’s not not true,” he huffed, crossing his arms.

“I’m sure they were very impressed,” she said dryly.

“Of course she was!”

“Oh, so it’s a she, huh?” she said giddily. The joy she derived from teasing her brother was truly unparalleled.

“Well, how about you?” he goaded her, changing the topic. “Met any guys tonight?”

“A few guys have said ‘hey’ here and there,” she said nonchalantly. “They were … eh.”

“Wow, you truly have a way with words, Katara.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Listen, they’re boring. We barely make it past a few sentences.”

Sokka pursed his lips as he studied her. “Ah, maybe it’s because of that.” He pointed at her neck.

“Mom’s necklace?” she said skeptically.

“It’s a betrothal necklace, right?”

“In the North,” she stressed. “We all know it’s just a regular necklace in the South.”

“Ok, but we don’t know what they’re thinking. Here.” He reached over to tuck her necklace into her high collar. “Now you don’t give off ‘I’m engaged’ signals.”

“Hooray, just undeniably single now,” she deadpanned. “Look, it’s probably not that, they’re also just … not my type.”

“Oh? And what is your type?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

A blush crept into her cheeks. “I don’t know. Tall? Handsome? Thinks waterbending is great?” She shook her head. “Come to think of it, some of them get weird when we talk about waterbending.”

A look of understanding crossed her brother’s face. “Ah.”

“What?”

“Listen, Katara. I know you’re like the first waterbending master from the South in decades, and the first female one in the North, but …”

“Are you calling me a show-off?” she said indignantly.

“No!” He raised his hands up defensively. “I’m just saying that some men don’t like that. They got a lot of pride, and they get … intimidated when a woman is—”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Well good, because I don’t want them either. Just because I’m of marrying age doesn’t mean I—” She stopped, suddenly distracted as a tall, striking figure entered her field of vision.

He was clad in autumn-colored robes that weren’t quite as fancy as the red and green ones she’d seen earlier. He seemed to be around her age, and she couldn’t deny that he possessed a certain handsomeness—one that was boyish and yet mature at the same time. She looked on as he chatted animatedly to King Kuei himself, and another young man she assumed to be Fire Nation royalty from the royal hairpiece and his regal red and black outfit.

However, what intrigued her the most was the powder blue marking that arched over his bald head. It seemed to be a tattoo of some sort, and if she squinted, she could barely make out what seemed to be an arrow. It was a familiar symbol, but for some reason, she couldn’t for the life of her remember what it was at that moment. She continued to stare as the boy burst out laughing at the Fire Nation man, and Katara felt a little flutter in her chest as a small smile escaped her—his energy was infectious.

“What’s gotten into you?” Sokka followed his sister’s eyes suspiciously, then let out a loud groan. “Oh … oh no. Of all the guys, Katara!”

“Wh—What are you talking about?” she snapped, looking away defensively.

She heard the sound of his palm hitting his forehead, something she was unfortunately all too familiar with. “I know I kind of expected you to meet a guy tonight but really? So many possible men here and you decide to go for the Fire Lord?”

“The Fire Lord? Huh? What—no!” she sputtered. “It’s not him!”

“Aha, so you were staring at someone!” he said accusingly, wagging a finger at her.

She watched tensely as Sokka thoughtfully stroked an imaginary beard on his chin. “The Earth King then?” Sokka cringed. “Really, Katara, you might wanna try—“

“What do you even think of me?” she fumed.

“Wait.” Sokka’s eyes went wide as he threw a quick glance back at the trio across the room. He gasped, and Katara braced herself. “The Avatar?”

Sokka’s words hit her like a bucket of cold water. The Avatar! Tui and La, how did she not recognize him?! “I—“ She cleared her throat, trying to compose herself. “The Avatar?” she asked as calmly as possible.

“Katara, you were practically eye-fucking him across the room!” Sokka hissed, then shuddered. “Spirits, it creeps me out to say that but it’s true.”

“Shut up, Sokka.” Her face was burning at this point, and it was taking all her self-control not to wrap her hands around his wolf tooth choker and throttle him.

He sighed, not seeming to hear her. “Well, I suppose he is single.”

“Wait, he is?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I mean, he’s a monk, right?

Sokka gave her a look that was in between a cringe and disbelief. “Oh, Katara, everyone makes a fuss about that! At any rate, I don’t think he’s … celibate. In fact, he’s practically the most eligible bachelor in the world, and trust me, it’s not due to a lack of choices.”

She deflated, looking down in embarrassment. Great, now she was just like all the dozens of fangirls who’d gotten starry-eyed over the Avatar. But there really was something about him that drew her like a magnet, and it definitely didn’t have anything to do with—

“Spirits, Katara, I think he’s looking at you too.”

She snapped her head back up, and to her shock, he indeed was looking right at her, seemingly awestruck. Sapphire crashed into silver, and he gave her a small, timid smile that made her feel like she was going to spontaneously combust right there and then.

Beside her, she heard Sokka groan. “Okay, he’s definitely looking at you. Guess that means I’m going to have to introduce you now.” He sighed, holding out his arm. “Come on.”

She looped an arm around her brother’s, and together, they walked across the room. Her heart sounding like a stomping herd of buffalo yaks, and she tried to ignore it by focusing on tucking some more loose strands behind her ears. When this was met with little success, she turned to fixing the folds of her dress with her free hand, unfortunately rumpling it even more than before. She only had enough time left to curse under her breath before they’d gotten close enough for Sokka to start getting the Avatar’s attention.

“Avatar Aang!” Sokka greeted him, waving at the young monk.

The young man looked up, a wide smile spreading across his face as he saw who had called. “Ambassador Sokka! It’s good to see you again,” he said as they clasped each other’s forearms in traditional Water Tribe greeting. The contrast between the Avatar’s lighter skin and her brother’s brown tone drew her attention, and she realized with a start that there were arrows on his arms and hands as well. “Are you here with Chief Hakoda?”

“Nah.” Sokka shook his head. “Dad had to take care of some business back at home, you know, with the reconstruction and all.”

“I see. And you’re with ….” He looked curiously at her, making her heart rate grow even more erratic.

“Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe,” she said, trying to sound confident. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

A questioning look flashed across his features. “Southern Water Tribe?” he asked, glancing at Sokka.

“My sister.” Katara thought she saw a hint of relief touch his eyes, but it was gone in an instant. “Dad sent us here in his stead.”

“Thank you for ending the war, Avatar Aang. We’re greatly indebted to you,” she said, bowing deeply.

He held her gaze for what seemed to be the longest moment of her life before leaning down to take her hand and press a kiss to it. “If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it,” he said with a smile, his eyes never leaving hers.

There was a pregnant silence as she dumbfoundedly took in his eyes, his words, his hand, his lips on her hand. Her mouth hung slightly ajar, and she was pretty sure Sokka’s was doing the same too.

“All right, this is too much for me,” Sokka finally said, breaking the tension. He raised his hands and started to back away. “I’ll leave you to it.”

The pair watched as Sokka retreated, disappearing into the sea of party guests. Suddenly realizing that they were still in contact, Katara pulled her hand back and they both stood up straight, looking at anything but each other. After a few agonizing seconds, she attempted to start a conversation at the same time as he did, unfortunately, and the two got pushed back into an even more excruciating silence. Just when she couldn’t take it anymore, the Avatar cleared his throat.

“So, I uh, I guess I haven’t properly introduced myself yet,” he said, awkwardly rubbing his neck and putting on the absolute cutest half-smile Katara had ever seen. “I’m Aang. No need for titles.”

“Aang,” she tested it out. It felt surprisingly natural. “Just call me Katara, then.”

“Okay, Katara.” An unexpected thrill went through her as he said her name, and she bit back a smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve met with Sokka and Chief Hakoda a couple of times, and I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Oh really,” she said, cringing. “What did they say?”

“Hey, nothing bad!” he assured her quickly. “For starters, they said you were a waterbender, and you’ve been training at the North Pole.”

“Oh.” That put her a bit more at ease. “That’s true.”

“Not only that,” he went on. “But Chief Hakoda said you were excellent and the first North-trained female master in centuries! Master Pakku taught me too so … I know how big a deal that is,” he added cheekily.

“It definitely wasn’t easy convincing him,” she chuckled, fully relaxing. This was going better than every other conversation she’d had that night. “But he’s asked me to help him train his waterbending students, so I guess we’re on good terms.”

“That’s incredible! I’d personally love to see you waterbend sometime.”

Katara blushed. “What? No, I can’t—you’re the Avatar! What’s my bending going to look like to you of all people?”

He was unruffled. “Probably great. I can bend all four elements, but that doesn’t mean I’m the absolute best at them all. You can ask Toph.” He winced.

The waterbender laughed. Toph Beifong was collectively known as the greatest earthbender of all time, partly due to objective acknowledgement of her talents, and partly due to her constant self-declaration of it. “I’ll be sure to do that. Is she here tonight?”

“Nah, she’s busy with her own stuff these days. She’s found other students to yell at instead of me,” he said dryly.

“Good for you,” she said, grinning. “Anyway, I’d love to see you airbend sometime, too. I’ve never seen airbending before!”

Aang perked up immediately, looking excited as he reached into the folds of his robes. “Oh really?! Well, check this out!” He clasped his hands together for a second before parting them with a wicked grin.

Katara blinked. A couple of marbles were spinning around midair in between the Avatar’s palms. Aang looked at her eagerly, and she quickly tried to rearrange her confused shock into a (hopefully) impressed look.

“That’s uh—that’s great!” she said, and much to her relief, he didn’t seem to notice her hesitation.

“Right! This is my favorite trick,” he said proudly, before bringing his hands together again and returning the marbles to his pocket.

He’s a dork, she decided. An unexpected burst of affection swelled in her chest at the thought, and she decided she liked that about him.

“I’ve got another trick to show you,” he said, pulling her out of her thoughts. Katara could have sworn there was an almost mischievous glint in his eye as he said that.

He looked pointedly at a nearby Earth Kingdom general wearing a cape, and she watched as he did several deft twisting motions with his left wrist. All of a sudden, a gush of wind threw the general’s cape up, flipping it over and consequently covering his face.

The pair exploded in a fit of giggles as their victim threw the cape off his face angrily, revealing a very red and livid face. He started cursing as he angrily searched for a suspect.

“Uh-oh.” Aang said, ducking his head. “We better get out of sight.” He paused for a moment, calculating.

“How—“

“Just take my hand.”

She looked at him like he was crazy, but his face told her he was dead serious. All things considered, trusting him did seem to be her best option at the moment. “Okay.”

The moment her hand was in his, he spun her around skillfully into his arms with one turn. She looked up at him incredulously. “Are we going to dance?”

“Oh no, we’re going to be doing some bending practice.” He grinned impishly, placing his free hand on her shoulder. She gulped.

“Just follow my lead, Master Katara.”

The tinkling of the bianqing echoed throughout the room to signal the transition of music, and she decided Aang must have been familiar with the piece, because they took off at the same time the erhu started with its first note.

He led her through the dance floor with utmost grace, blending the both of them seamlessly into the crowd. If Katara didn’t know any better, she would have thought they really were just dancing. But observing closely, she had never seen any dance quite like whatever Aang was doing—the spiraling movements, the ability to turn himself (and her) to a different direction at a moment’s notice. They might as well have been leaves in the wind.

So this was airbending, she thought.

However, as their little “dance” went on, she started to notice a hint of familiarity to their motions—the way he would alternate between drawing her towards him and holding her at arm’s length, the way the weight transferred back and forth between the two of them—unmistakably, there was also an ebb and flow to his breeze, a push and pull.

“Waterbending,” she breathed, low enough that he didn’t hear her. She’d read about how airbenders just trusted the air to let it carry them but she’d never realized how similar it could be to her element’s constant shift of energy. That is, until this display.

A deft spin pulled her out of her thoughts, and before she could process what was happening, she found herself mere inches away from his face. Argentine eyes took up her entire vision, and she could only hear their ragged breaths and beating hearts. Agonizingly slowly, the distance between them started to close, but it wasn’t until she felt his warm breath on her lips did she realize just how close they were.

“So,” she said, ducking her head in a panic and suddenly taking interest in the orchestra playing at the end of the ballroom. The music had quieted to a soft melody, and she fixed her gaze on the bamboo flute producing it. Her cheeks burned both at their almost-encounter, and she prayed to the spirits that her complexion was enough to hide it. “Flight and evasion. Very airbender.”

The Avatar blinked, then shook his head as if coming out of a trance. “You know for someone who says she’s never seen airbending, you sure seem to know a lot about it.” He lightly swayed them to the music, just enough to blend in without actually changing position.

She scoffed. “You’re the talk of the Four Nations, you know. Plus, Master Pakku told me that learning the bending styles of the other nations would help me greatly, so I read up at the North’s libraries while I was training there.”

“From firsthand experience, I can tell you it does help greatly.” He paused for a moment. “On that note, I’m curious if you’ve read anything about the Avatar.”

She shrugged. “Sure. Comes with the territory of the four elements.”

“So, how have I fared?” he probed playfully. “Living up to your textbook expectations?”

“Well for one, I didn’t expect the Avatar would be such an incurable prankster.”

She had to bite back a giggle as her partner did his best to feign offense. “Me? I’m just a simple monk,” he said innocently.

She laughed in earnest this time. “Could have fooled me. Do you always charm girls by kissing their hands and whisking them away to dance?”

“I—“ He stopped swaying. “You think I’m charming?”

Katara flushed. “I—“ She swallowed. “Um … sorry.”

“What? No, why are you apologizing?”

“Sorry, Aang, can we just drop this?”

“If it makes you feel better, I—I think you’re beautiful.” Katara froze, and the Avatar averted his gaze. “And um, to answer your question, no, this isn’t a regular thing.”

Katara’s world completely stopped. Did … Did the Avatar—did Aang just … what did that mean?

“Aang! There you are.” The two immediately jumped apart at the sound. Katara turned in its direction, and her panicked mind picked up various disjointed information about the approaching figure. Regal crimson robes, a golden headpiece, silky black hair, a scar … Sacred spirits, she realized with a start. “I’ve been loo—” The Fire Lord’s golden eyes flitted between their two flushed faces. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

Katara desperately willed Aang to earthbend the ground to swallow them whole, but to her dismay, he had other plans. “No, nothing at all,” he said lightly, plastering an easy look onto his face. “Zuko, this is Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe. Katara, meet his fieriness himself, Fire Lord Zuko.”

Zuko ignored the last part. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Master Katara.” He touched a fist to his palm and bowed to her, and Katara returned the gesture graciously.

“The pleasure’s all mine, your honor.” Something in Zuko’s expression shifted, and to her even greater confusion, Aang snickered next to her. She decided she’d ask about it … some other time.

“Now, what was it you were saying, Sifu Hotman?” Aang asked, a grin still playing on his mouth.

Katara found it harder to stifle laughter as the Fire Lord scowled, making no effort to hide his annoyance at the nickname. “I’ve just gotten word about the New Ozai Society causing unrest back in Caldera City. I need to get back as soon as possible, and I wanted to ask if you could come with me.”

A sinking feeling came over her at the rueful look Aang shot her. He took a deep breath. “Of course. Let’s take Appa so it’s quicker.”

Zuko nodded. “Thank you, Aang. I’ll just take a bit to look for Mai, then we’ll meet you by Appa.” He looked over at her, bowing once more. “I apologize for the abruptness of this. But it was nice meeting you, Master Katara.”

She bowed back. “Same to you, Fire Lord Zuko.”

She watched numbly as the Fire Lord left. Well, what did she expect? He was the Avatar, for spirits’ sake! It was just her luck that she had to start falling for him, of all people. How did she ever think—why did she ever think something was possible?

And it’s not like she was sure he liked her back? Sure, he called her beautiful, but that could have meant nothing. Regardless, it was just so damn frustrating because something was there, and they were being pulled apart before they had a chance to make sense of it.

“Katara?” He said her name timidly. She turned to look at him. His silver eyes, which had been so light and playful earlier, were filled with sadness. “I—“

“You need to go.” Aang winced, and Katara felt a pang of regret—her words might have ended up sounding much icier than expected. “Aang, it’s not your fault. Keeping peace is the Avatar’s duty.”

He gave a small sigh. “Yes, it is. But that’s not what I was going to say.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh. What was it then?”

“I wanted to tell you … I had fun tonight,” he said with a shy smile, easily melting her defenses once more. Spirits, what was with this boy? “I really enjoyed talking to you. And dancing with you.”

“I did too.” She hesitated. Nothing to lose, she told herself. “I … really wish we had more time.” She just knew she was blushing, but she had to try.

“Me too.” She was desperately racking her brain for something to say next, when Aang suddenly perked up.

“Could I write you?” Katara looked up, surprised. “I could send you a hawk once I get to the Fire Nation. And you can send me a letter back on the same hawk—it’d know where to find me. And I could visit you in the South Pole as soon as I can! If you want,” he added quickly.

Her initial shock soon dissipated and was replaced by warmth at his unabashed enthusiasm. He did like her. He was willing to try, and it was going to be hard, but he wanted to make it work.

And truthfully, so did she.

“Sounds perfect,” she told him.

Affection swelled in her as she watched his gray eyes brighten at her response. She listened as he excitedly rattle off a seemingly never-ending list of things they could do, ranging from something as mundane as trying out the local food to a seemingly surreal cloudbending trip (“We can take Appa!” “Okay, who is Appa?” “He’s my best friend.” “That we can ride on?” “Sure. He’s a flying bison.” “. . . oh. Neat!”)

There was really something about Aang that she couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was his surprisingly troublemaker energy, or his catching enthusiasm. Maybe it was the way his native element just exuded from him in every way, and how easily it worked with hers. Or maybe, it was the way looking into his eyes was all it took for her to believe that cloudbending really was a thing they could do, despite her never having heard of it in her experience as a master waterbender. After all, sky seemed to be the limit with this airbender.

But even if she wasn’t yet sure what it was, she couldn’t be happier to know that they were going to have a chance to find out.

“… or you could show me around your village, and we could skate on some ice and I don’t know if this sounds weird but … will you go penguin sledding with me?”

She blinked. Penguin sledding. It was honestly one of the last things she ever thought she’d be doing on a date, and the whole thing was just so … unpredictable. And fun. And free. So … Aang.

“Of course,” she said, her face breaking into a smile.

He beamed at her. “Great! It’s a date!” He immediately blushed when he realized what he had just said. “I—I mean, the date, like you know, the fruit … not …”

That was it. He was just so darn adorable with his attempt to cover up that she couldn’t help but lean over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “It’s a date,” she assured him, watching with much enjoyment as Aang, who was scarlet by this time with his jaw slack, touched the spot where her lips had been.

“What, gotta catch your breath, airbender?” she asked teasingly.

“I—I—um,” he stammered.

Katara shoved his arm lightly. “Get going, Avatar, the world needs you. But I’ll be expecting the hawk.”

“Airbender’s honor,” he said, giving her one last dopey smile before he turned on his heel and walked away. He seemed to navigate the crowd with a new spring in his step, just barely touching the ground. Clearly, walking on air was a literal thing for him, she thought with a chuckle.

“OKAY, I SAW THAT!” a voice interrupted her thoughts with a screech. She turned to see none other than Sokka aggressively making his way to her. “OOGIES CENTRAL, little sister. OO—”

“Sokka, please.” She rolled her eyes. “You talk like I didn’t see you flirting with that Earth Kingdom girl the whole night.”

“That’s different! I’ve met Suki more than once.” She raised an eyebrow at him, but he went on. “I can’t believe it. You … and the Avatar …” he whispered tensely. “Oh man, wait ‘til Dad hears about this. You attend ONE party and you suddenly have a boy wrapped around your finger!”

“Well, didn’t you and Dad say I should meet more guys?” she said coolly. “And now the tribe can stop complaining about me not snagging myself some North Pole husband.”

“We didn’t mean the AVATAR!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Why not?” She glared at him. “I’m sure everyone would love to meet him.”

Sokka scrunched his eyebrows. “Meet him?”

“Aang said he’d come over to visit the South Pole as soon as he can,” she said a-matter-of-factly. “We’re going penguin sledding.”

“He WHAT?” Sokka sputtered. “The Avatar? Is coming to the South Pole? And you’re going penguin sledding???”

“Yup. He asked me, and I said yes,” she said with a grin, already giddily imagining sledding down the South Pole’s slopes with him. She felt a rush run through her, making her feel light-headed with glee. In that moment, realized she might actually have half a mind to go over to the Fire Nation herself should the New Ozai Society start delaying their plans.

“Ohhh no. I know that look.” Sokka groaned. “Spirits, you’re … you’re helpless.”

Katara kept smiling. Maybe she was.

But so was he.

--

A/N: Btw, the bianqing is a Chinese stone chimes instrument.

The whole point of a Helpless-inspired AU was a love at first sight AU basically, which was an interesting angle for me to write since Kataang is canonically a slow burn friends to lovers couple. Also: first move x pining Katara? Natural charmer x awkward bean Aang? I needed that in my life so I wrote it lol.

I also had so much fun peppering this with so many references (from both the actual Avatar shows and Hamilton!) If you wanna point out as much as you can I would love you for it.

[usuallyamazinglyaverage]

Side By Side [Ethan x MC]

Hey there, ya lovely people!

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and got to celebrate the season of giving with your family and friends. To end this year properly, I’m back with a bit of writing :)

I’m not gonna lie, the two months before the holidays were really rough and I had to sort so much shit out. It just kept me from most things I love doing in my free time, including talking with my friends and writing. That’s why this one took me a while to finish.

(Nevermind the fact that I rewrote this fic like two times, but that’s a story for another day)

I’ll most likely take a break from OH oneshots for a while (unless inspiration strikes me), but I am still working on stuff, inluding one or two AUs and fics for some other fandoms. I hope a breather to get my muse back on track is alright with you all ;)

I wish you all a safe journey into the next year - let’s pray it’ll be a better one <3

As always, I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes. Please enjoy!

Summary: Big steps in a relationship are always difficult - this one is no exception.

Warnings: Just some light teasing and a bit of language - this is mostly cheesy fluff <3 (I know, I’m surprised as well)

Note: MC of the fic is Annabelle Dawson. I created the header myself, hope it’s pleasing to the eye :) This is set a few months after the end of Book 2.

Taglist:  @perriewinklenerdie @andromedasinclaire @radlovedreamer @amillionmoonsred @hopelessromantic1352 @cordoniaqueensworld @paisleylovergirl  @fangirlingmum @bucket-harrington @lu-ciq @fairyrink @princess-geek @cyb3r-kat​ @whenyourheartskipsabeat @lady-kato @queenof1000days @sunflowergirl05 @jlpplays1 @tacohead13 @the-soot-sprite  @chasingrobbie @padfoot0415 @desiree-0816 @togetherwearerapture @thisperfectmemory @furiouscloddonutpeanut @tabootheunicorn @rookie-ramsey @theroseduelist @drakewalkerfantasy @lapisreviewsstuff @jooous @aworldoffandoms @edgiestwinter @inlovewithrebels @topsyturvy-dream @cerisesayeed-ramsey @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @marywitchjane @adrianrainesworld @zodiacsign1 @silverlitskies @trappedinfandoms @sherlockedmcu @drethanramslay @awhmilkywey @htgawparksandrec @theeccentricbibliophile @mvalentine @desmaranj @schnitzelbutterfingers @colourmeshy @mal-volaris @kaavyaethanramsey @riverrune @honeyandsunfl0wers @humanpokemon @ethandaddyramsey @lilyvalentine @mrsdrakewalkerblog @openheart12 @bellcat2010 @datynasuha  @caseyvalentineramsey @ethxnrxmsey @squishywizardhq @custaroonie @beckaroo @colossalpainintheass @takemyopenheart @justanotherrookie @honeyandsunfl0wers @maurine07  @grandnachoconnoisseur @dr-ramseys-rookie @myusualnerdyself @mrs-raleighcarrera @akshara16 @wingedhairstylemusicweasel​ @alookseeblog​

Song: If You Love Her by Forest Blakk

Ethan tried very hard to not look like he was running – and was failing spectacularly.

Some of his colleagues had to dodge out of his way as he strode through the hallways, white coat fluttering behind him, hands stuffed into the pockets. Slipping into the stairwell, the attending took two steps at a time, reaching the bottom floor quickly.

The atrium was packed, lit by the bright gray sky beyond the ceiling windows - reminding him that he was supposed to be busy in his office right now. Christmas was just around the corner, and after Edenbrook’s reopening, the paperwork had simply piled up, barely giving him time to bring some distance between him and his desk.

He dreaded going back already - but there was something he had to take care of first. Something that felt pivotal for his motivation right now.

Turning his head, Ethan let his eyes wander through the spacious room, from the stairs to the entrance and back again. Finally, he spotted a mess of golden locks, tucked into the usual practical ponytail.

She was with her friends, Trinh and Varma, already dressed in her day-to-day clothes, the strap of her bag slung over one shoulder. The two other women gave her a hug, shooing her along.

Ethan couldn’t help but feel silly when her bell-like, resounding laugh made his heart lurch in his chest, lifting his mood immediately.

Anna turned on her heels with one last wave and headed towards the doors, tucking up her scarf and the lapels of her jacket to ward off the oncoming cold. He waited until her friends went back to their conversation before following her, maneuvering through the crowd and catching up with the younger doctor in the light snowdrift outside.

His hand on her shoulder coaxed a tiny yelp from her, hazel eyes looking up at him with a gratified sort of wonder.

"Ethan? What-"

The older doctor cut Anna off by directing her against the wall framing the entrance, cupping her chin and gently tilting it up for easier access. The kiss was rougher than he would have liked, muscle memory taking over as he nipped on the corner of her mouth.

His former intern, however, didn’t seem to mind, parting her lips with a soft sigh.

Sliding his hands to the back of her jaw, he drew Anna closer, the sugary taste of her dissipating the rest of his stress. He smiled when she grew boneless against him, delicate fingers twirling his tie.

Eventually, they had to come up for oxygen, both drawing away with barely audible hums. Anna’s thoroughly addled expression filled him with an odd pride, her lashes fluttering against her reddened cheeks.

"Is it my birthday?“ she breathed. "Did I accidentally invent the cure for cancer? There must be something I did to deserve this."

"Actually, I just... wanted to wish you a good day," Ethan murmured, tucking a lock behind her ear. "We barely saw each other the past few days. I feel like I can’t catch a break at the moment."

Tenderness seeped into her gaze, liquefying the color to a point where he wanted to drown in it and never come out again.

"Did this help?"

He chuckled. "More than you know."

"Well, feel free to do that anyti-"

"Anna?"

Ethan jumped away from her, whirling around.

This is what you get for leaving your office, a perfidious voice nagged at the very back of his tumbling thoughts.

The tip of his ears flushed hot and he had to force himself to not look away from the woman standing a few feet from them, a grin plastered on her face.

"Hi, gran," Anna offered weakly, pushing herself off the wall. "You, um, you remember Doctor Ramsey?"

Greta Dawson gave them both an impish wink. "Hard to forget this one, right?" She looked between the two for a moment. "You don’t call him 'doctor' usually though, do you? Not that I’m one to judge."

Jesus.

Ethan rubbed the flushed back of his neck, desperately trying to find his dignity among the thick snowflakes swirling from the sky.

He had met Anna’s pint-sized grandmother a little over a year ago, after assisting in an operation that had ultimately saved her life. She was a cheeky, terrifying force of nature, intimidating in a very specific way. Mostly because meeting her had felt substantial – even then. Greta was the only relative Anna had left and as such, the older doctor didn’t want to make a bad impression.

Which he probably just did. Wonderful.

Straightening his shoulders and clearing his throat, he offered his palm. "It’s nice to see you again, Greta." The old woman chortled, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. "Likewise, Doctor Dreamy.“

Next to him, Anna groaned, burying her face against his chest. "Please take me back to work." Despite his still burning ears, Ethan frowned down at her. "Absolutely not. You worked the longest shifts this week." The blonde answered his frown with one of her own. "Traitor."

Her pout was distracting and painfully cute, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the sight. "Go," he urged after a moment of indulgence. "Spend some time with your family.“ The jig was already up, so he leaned down to press another gentle kiss to her lips, this one far more modest than he would have liked. "I’ll see you on Monday."

"I have a better idea," Greta interrupted cheerfully, twiddling her fingers at the two doctors. "How about you join our dinner tomorrow?" Opening and closing her mouth, Anna glanced at Ethan while shuffling her feet. "I mean I... I like that thought. We're making lasagna?"

There was that coyness of hers again, making him wonder if she really didn’t know how utterly charming she was – and that there were very few things that he wouldn't do for her.

"I like that thought too,“ he said, his voice quiet but certain, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze.  “Call me when you get home?“

"I will." Anna brushed her thumb along his scruffy jaw, smiling hesitantly.

"Have fun, Rookie." His blues flicked over to her grandmother, who was watching their exchange with obvious curiosity. "And, ah, you too, Greta."

The old woman winked once again. "We’ll see you tomorrow, Ethan."

“Damn.”

Anna stared into the mirror, grimacing at the smudge of mascara, just below her left eye. Sighing, she slipped the tiny brush back into the silver tube, exchanging it for q-tip to correct the mistake.

Her fingers were still shaky.

Wiping the black from her skin, she tried not to think about the man waiting for her in the kitchen – a hard thing to do when there were reminders of him all around her.

Her toothbrush rested next to his in a tall cup on the spacious sink.

Her towel occupied a shelf next to the shower.

His cologne and her perfume both permeated the air.

Reminders of him – reminders of them. All things she never would have thought possible half a year ago. Usually, the sight of shared commitment was a beautiful, giddiness-inducing facet of their relationship for her. Tonight, she couldn't help but wonder if Ethan was feeling smothered by it all.

Dinner with her grandmother was a step Anna hadn't even considered until she had caught them red-handed yesterday. Greta knew about Ethan, knew about the chaotic circumstances that had brought them together at last, but she had never expressed the wish to meet him in an official capacity.

Just one of the many firsts that he had been a part of.

Taking a deep breath, the young doctor tossed the q-tip into the trash bin, smoothing her hands along the burgundy fabric of her casual dress and her black tights – a last effort to calm herself.

The hallway outside of the bathroom was much cooler, making Anna shiver as she made her way to the kitchen.

Ethan was leaning against the island, his crisp white oxford peeking through his unbuttoned coat. Tapping away on his phone, he uncrossed his legs, dark slacks rustling quietly. He looked a little bit unreal in the dim light. An apparition, summoned by the farthest reaches of her mind.

“You're staring,” he informed her, finally looking up and interrupting her ogling.

Anna tried her hardest not to appear embarrassed, but her traitorous face heated at the comment anyway.

“You look nice,” she muttered, casting her gaze to the ceiling for a moment before meeting his once again.

Ethan chuckled, pushing himself off the island and crossing the distance between them. “You just stole my line.” His eyes swept over the dress, the blue heavy and eager. “Though 'nice' seems very much insufficient.” Stopping a few inches away from her, he pressed a lingering kiss to Anna's cheekbone. “You're stunning.”

The warmth in his voice broke her heart just a little. Anna wrapped her arms around his waist, letting his scent wash over her. Ethan stilled, one of his hands finding the back of her neck and weaving through the loose golden curls there. He didn't say anything right away, granting this moment of respite.

“You're nervous, aren't you.”

Perceptive as ever.

She released a long breath and traced the pattern of his coat. “Not because of the dinner itself.” Lifting her head, she studied his face before pressing on. “I'm just wondering if you're alright. We've really picked up the pace.”

Surprised, Ethan raised his brows. “Are you asking me if I have cold feet?”

“I... suppose I am.”

“Anna.” There was a note of gentle admonishment in his voice, urging her to listen. “You're here every second weekend. Yesterday, I practically begged you to come over, because we're barely seeing each other at work. Does that sound like I'm questioning my decision to be with you?” His lips brushed her temple. “I'll admit that your grandmother terrifies me. But that doesn't mean I don't want to get to know her better.”

“Well, now I feel silly,” she murmured sheepishly.

Ethan huffed out a soft laugh, tickling the shell of her ear. “Maybe I like that about you.” He pulled away, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You and your busy brain.” Lacing their fingers for a brief moment, he nodded his head towards the door. “Ready to go?”

“As ready as I'll ever be,” Anna sighed, letting him help her put on her jacket and lead her out of the apartment.

The drive to her grandmother's place felt far too short.

Her leg wiggled every time they passed another green light, forcing Ethan to rest his palm on it to soothe her. He did so wordlessly, keeping it there until he shut off the motor and offering it to her when they walked up the stairs to the second floor of the apartment complex. She took it, ever grateful for his quiet support.

The blonde fumbled with her set of keys when they reached the door, almost dropping them when it opened on it's own, revealing a her apron-clad grandmother.

“Gran,” she chastised, letting the old woman pull her into a hug. “Were you waiting by the door?”

“Nonsense, dear,” Greta sniffed, rubbing her back with a little too much enthusiasm.

Anna could practically hear the lie in her affronted tone, masking her pained sigh with a small cough. “Right. A preposterous notion.”

“Just as preposterous as denying me this view for past few months.” Her grandmother gestured over to Ethan, who had watched their exchange with a subdued smile. “The women in our family did always have an eye for the finer things in life, I must say,” she mused. “Come in, you two.”

Anna couldn't help but swallow as she watched Ethan hang up his coat and enter her childhood home. The furniture, the décor and even the comforting smell of chamomile and laundry detergent was the same, reminding her of days past.

With him in the middle of it all, it felt like two separate dimensions colliding and forming something she couldn't quite name. He looked both out of place and like he belonged as they followed Greta into the kitchen.

Handing her grandmother the expensive bottle of Château Monbrison the young doctor had chosen from his wine stash a few hours ago, Ethan rubbed the side of neck. “Anna told me this is your favorite. Thank you again for the invitation.”

Greta regarded him with amusement. “That's a very sweet gesture, Ethan. Tell me, how good is your cooking?”

“I -” At a loss for words, he looked over at Anna.

“He's great,” she affirmed hastily, flushing at her choice of defense. “I mean his cooking. It's great. Very good.”

“Wonderful. How about you help me prepare the rest of the lasagna then, my boy?” Her grandmother patted Anna's shoulder. “Could you be a dear and set the table? I've already left the plates in the dining room.”

“But-”

“Snowbell.” Greta brushed a lock out of her granddaughters face. “Don't worry. You'll get him back without even one hair out of place.”

On her way out of the kitchen, Anna caught Ethan's gaze, the two doctors exchanging a small, equally nervous smile before they were separated.

In the quiet of the dining room, the blonde took a shaky breath, trying to sort her thoughts as she moved plates, glasses and silverware around.

She should have expected this.

Anna trusted and loved her grandmother, dearly, but she could be a bit much at times. Then again, she had never taken such an interest in any of her partners. In Canada, she had been too far away to truly introduce her first long-term boyfriend and once she had finally returned to Boston, the relationship was already over.

And Michael – well. Nothing good had come of being with him.

Ethan was the most complicated man she had ever met by far – but he was her future. The thought strengthened every day she spend with him, every time she looked into his eyes and every time he held her close.

It was far too soon to tell him, however.

And that was exactly why she was nervous about the prospect of her Greta and Ethan alone together.

“You've been holding that fork for quite a while now.”

Startled out of her musings, Anna turned around, almost stumbling into the older doctor. He caught her by the elbows, gently prying the silverware from her fingers and setting it down.

“You're done already?” she wondered, blinking at him.

Ethan chuckled. “It's been a little over ten minutes. Lost in thought again?”

“...Can you blame me?”

“No,” he admitted. “But it wasn't as bad as you probably imagined. You're supposed to show me your room, by the way. Something about it being the prelude to embarrassing baby pictures.”

The blonde groaned, hooking her arm around his and pulling him back into the hallway. “Fine. But you better be gentle. It hasn't been renovated since I was sixteen.”

“I thought you liked it when I'm not gentle,” Ethan teased, earning himself a smack to his chest when they entered the room on the far end.

Closing the battered wood behind them, Anna watched nervously as he moved to the middle of the room, his height dwarfing the old furniture to ridiculous proportions.

His gaze wandered over the walls, the faded teal plastered over by posters and photographs. Taking a few steps closer to the scratched up vanity next to her bed, the older doctor plucked a picture from the frame of the mirror.

She fought to urge to take it from him, mashing her lips together.

Her twenty-year-old self in this particular photo looked like a textbook nerd, much shorter locks braided into two pigtails and clutching her acceptance letter for Boston's med school, while she and Greta grinned at the camera.

Ethan reattached the picture with another chuckle. Then, his gaze fell on her nightstand - and on the book sitting on it.

More specifically, his book.

The unassuming cover was well worn, some of the pages dog-eared. Picking it up, he thumbed through it, raising a brow at Anna.

"What?" she asked a bit too forcefully, cheeks burning.

His mouth twitched, eventually losing the fight against the complacent expression overtaking his features.

"Someone’s a fan," he hummed. "Want to me to sign this one too?"

"That depends," the blonde huffed, crossing her arms. "Do I need to undertake another ridiculous task before you do it?“

Grinning, Ethan tossed the book back and crooked a finger at her. "How about you come over here and kiss me, Rookie? You can decide after if that’s asking too much."

"You’re ridiculous," she murmured, walking up to him hesitantly and slipping her hands around his neck with a pout. Something utterly triumphant twinkled in his deep blues as he craned his head down, meeting her in the middle.

The kiss was soft, slow and warm, tasting faintly of toothpaste. Ethan wrapped his arms around Anna’s waist, lifting her from her tiptoes and setting her down on the bed, his lips never leaving hers.

There was a comfort in his body covering her own, the pleasant buzz of it all coaxing a faint moan from her throat.

Eventually, they had to come up for air, Ethan’s nose nuzzling her cheek.

"You know, you're the first guy to make out with me on this bed," she said thoughtfully and brushed her knuckles over his jaw, enjoying the texture of his beard against her skin.

The attending pushed himself onto one elbow, his free fingers mapping the curve of her hip. "I'm not sure how much more information my ego can take. I'm this close to begging for mercy."

"Oh my god." Anna pulled him back to her by his hair, their laughter mingling until they were breathless once more.

Eventually, Ethan rolled off to the side, facing the younger doctor on the mattress. It was oddly soothing, having him share the tiny bed with her. A peaceful little bubble, after the start of what was bound to be an eventful afternoon.

It gave her courage to ask the question sitting at the forefront of her mind.

“What did you and my grandmother talk about?”

Ethan's jaw tensed for a brief second, his palm lifting to find her face.

“She told me about the state you were in the week after I had left for the Amazon.” His calloused thumb drew a half circle. “And to be more careful with your heart this time around.”

“Or she'll put you six-feet-under?” Anna questioned weakly.

“No.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “No, she asked me while offering me a glass of wine. She's just worried, princess. And she has every right to be.”

“Ethan...”

“I can't ever take back what I did, Anna,” he sighed. “We both know that. You forgive me so easily every time I mess up and I shouldn't take it for granted. Even your endless patience will run out eventually.”

“You're worth it. You always were.”

Hazel and blue connected, both achingly soft.

“So are you.”

Unspoken words, unspoken emotions, enriched by the dim light falling through pale curtains, drowning the space in silence and contentment.

“Should we get back?” Anna murmured, careful not to disturb the tender moment with her voice. “My grandmother is probably waiting for us.”

“In a minute.” Forehead tipping down to meet hers, Ethan dragged her close, breathing her in. “In a minute, sweetheart.”

A/N: So cheesy. Was a lot of fun to write though :3

[thewritewolf]

Well-Worn Note

Summary: When Adrien hears about a drive to give back to the heroes of Paris, he writes a heartfelt note telling Ladybug how much she is appreciated.

Years later, he finds that same note again in an unlikely place.

This fic has two reasons for existing! The first is that it celebrates the one year anniversary of my favorite server on Discord being created, and I have truly grown to love and appreciate it. Not to mention all the friends I've made through it!

The second reason - and what provided the specific inspiration for this story - comes from this post by @lnc2​. 

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Adrien’s fingers wandered aimlessly among the keys of his piano. Sometimes he did it to think, to let his mind drift in a trance, but most of the time he just needed a reprieve from his thoughts altogether. To let himself be completely immersed in the music as it unfolded in front of him, changing from moment to moment.

The music was a great escape. It was hard to hold onto frustration and anger when he was at the piano. Adrien suddenly froze and groaned. At least, it was a great escape as long as his mind didn’t circle back to what he was trying to get away from in the first place. Thoroughly back in the present, he walked over to his computer to look for another distraction.

Naturally, his first stop was the Ladyblog. He was only two articles down when he saw her announcement for a special event for Heroes Day. There was going to be a drop off box where the grateful citizens of Paris can send gifts and notes to their favorite heroes. Alya had apparently already gotten Ladybug’s permission and Adrien wondered when that had happened.

“Yeah it was like two or three akumas ago.” Adrien started before noticing Plagg, who continued talking with a smirk and a satisfied swish of his tail. “You were running out of time, but she had lots of it so she hung around to answer questions by the adoring public.” Plagg took a bite out of his cheese. “Guess that was when.”

“Huh…” Adrien said, the gears in his head already turning.

“What’s up? Already looking forward to all that cheese you’ll be getting?”

Adrien scrunched up his forehead. “Why would I be getting cheese?”

“Well what else are they going to send you? Cheese is obviously the best call.” Plagg tossed his wedge into the air and caught it with his mouth. The kwami floated off the desk.

“There’s loads better stuff than that! Like-” Adrien’s eyes widened. “Wait. This is a great opportunity!”

“What are you on about, kid?”

Adrien turned around in his seat to look at Plagg. “I could send Ladybug a present through the drop off!”

“...Kid you know her. You could just give her something next time you’re on patrol or something. Heck, you’ve done that before!”

“Yeah, but this is a chance to give her stuff she’d never accept from Chat Noir,” Adrien said, turning back to his desk. He pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen and started writing.

The gifts he could figure out later - maybe a flower or some jewelry or clothes - but the critical thing was getting his emotions onto paper. Several crumbled up failures later and he was carefully finishing his masterpiece. If that didn’t make her feel loved, nothing would.

“Well, don’t forget to sign it I guess,” Plagg reminded, sounding bored.

Adrien shook his head as he folded up the paper. “It’ll stay anonymous.”

“Huh? What’s the point then? I thought you were trying to get her to fall for you or whatever?”

“No. I just… I want her to know she’s appreciated and, well…” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “If I don’t sign it, it’ll be like if all of Paris sent her the letter, you know?”

“Not really, but whatever floats your boat, kid.”

By that time the following day, Adrien had picked out a few presents - a rose with a ribbon, a charm bracelet, and a few other things besides. Storing them and the note in a box, he wrapped it and dropped it off with Alya as soon as he could.

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

Years passed and before he knew it, Adrien and all his friends were graduating from school. It was a strange new world they were heading into - Nino had gotten a great opportunity to follow his dreams of being a DJ in Nice. Likewise, Alya had landed an internship as a journalist there. By the end of the summer, both of them would be moving out of Paris.

But not everything was changing. There were still akumas, which meant that Adrien needed to stay close at hand to keep Paris safe. At least he’d be in good company - Marinette had been accepted to a Parisian university where she could pursue her ambitions of becoming a great designer. Not that she wasn’t already, Adrien thought with a smile.

Their last summer together was bittersweet. Friends had come and gone over the years, but those four had stayed the best of friends for that entire time. Now it seemed to be coming to an end, even as they all tried to find their way in the world. Who knew when the whole gang would come together again?

Maybe it was helping Marinette move today that had gotten him thinking about it so much. Which was itself a nostalgic trip as they helped pack away mementos of their times together. How often had Adrien come over after school to play Ultimate Mecha Strike with Marinette? The movie nights all four of them had spent there?

Things got quieter when Alya and Marinette left to buy more boxes - even Marinette had underestimated just how much stuff she had to pack. Nino and Adrien joked around like usual, but there was a somberness under it all that they just couldn’t shake no matter how hard they tried to keep things lighthearted.

Adrien almost welcomed it when Nino fumbled one of the boxes and took their minds off of it. At least he would have if the box hadn’t torn open and disgorged its contents onto the floor.

“Dang, dude,” Nino said as he stared at the mess he’d made. “M’s gonna kill me for sure if this stuff got busted.”

“Don’t sweat it, man.” Adrien put a comforting hand on Nino’s shoulder. “See if you can scrap up another box somewhere. I’ll pick all this stuff up and get it ready.”

Nino tipped his cap at him. “Thanks bro. You’re a real everyday Chat Noir!”

Adrien rolled his eyes at the phrase. After he’d thrown that party for Marinette and made his little speech, everyone had started using it.

“No problem. Take your time, though,” Adrien added as he sat down on the floor. “Looks like I’m going to be here a while.”

“Right on.”

Something didn’t seem quite right when he got to work sorting through the stuff. It must’ve been one of the boxes that Marinette had already packed by the time they got there, since he didn’t recognize any of it at all.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. All of them stirred up memories - old sketchbooks that were filled and forgotten. Scraps of fabric from pieces that Adrien remembered her finishing years ago. An old black umbrella.

“She still has this?” Adrien murmured to himself in awe. He laid it back down reverently - if it weren’t for that umbrella, the two of them might not have been friends, after all.

That was when he saw it. At first, he thought it was just another notebook, but there was something poking out of the bottom of it that caught his eye. Curious, he reached for the book.

The final date was from three years ago, but he could tell from the wear on the spine that it had been opened and closed many, many times. He flipped open the book and the faint scent of a rose reached his nose. The book naturally opened up to a page that had a pressed rose tied with a ribbon on it. That must have been what was poking out of the bottom. Taking the flower, he spun it between his fingers and watched the ribbon dance around it. There was something oddly familiar about it, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

Something fell out of the book and drew his attention away from the preserved rose. It was a folded piece of paper. As he picked it up, he could feel from the softness of the paper that it had been unfolded and refolded many, many times.

Following in Marinette’s footsteps, he unfolded it once more.

At first, he could only cringe at it. Whoever had wrote it clearly had a crush on Marinette, but some sense of curiosity had gotten the better of him and he needed to keep reading. As he continued, there was a nagging suspicion at the back of his mind that he’d seen this letter somewhere before. But that couldn’t be right, could it? Unless he-

His eyes widened. Unless he was the one who wrote it! But that made even less sense - he couldn’t remember ever writing Marinette a note where he thanked her for ‘saving the day more times than he cared to count’ nor where he called her ‘an inspiration to all of them’. Granted, he’d probably said stuff like that to her over the years but-

Then it hit him like a clap of thunder. The rose and its ribbon only confirmed it for him. As clear as day, he could remember writing this very letter years ago, but it wasn’t for Marinette - it was for Ladybug!

It all made sense. No one could figure out why Marinette had declined going to that school in London she’d really liked. Most of them had assumed it was just because she would miss Paris too much. But she could hardly fight akumas while she was in London, could she?

The door opens and Adrien looks up to see Marinette standing there like a figure from a dream.

She glances down to see the letter in one hand and the rose in the other. A blush spreads across her face, but he barely notices as he stands up. She is stammering something, but he can’t hear it over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Her bright blue eyes look up at him as he finally crosses the distance between them. He drops the note, forgotten immediately once again so he can cup her cheek with one hand. The rest of the world falls away as well as he whispers to her, quiet and sure:

“...My lady?”

[sleepawaywriting]

Mornings, Part II

[Piers x Reader, NSFW]

I was actually planning on finishing a chapter about Gordie before this one, but the surge of love for Piers from his 3 second twilight wings finale cameo inspired me to finish this first, so enjoy! (Sorry to whoever made that Gordie request, HE’S A-COMING DON’T YOU WORRY.)

NSFW (18+) UNDER THE CUT

A deep bass throbbed beneath your feet, thrumming up your legs, through your bones, and resonating within your chest. An indigo-tinged darkness bathed your surroundings, a forest of nondescript figures with blurred faces limiting your movement, and in front of you, raised on an invisible stage, was your boyfriend and his band, backlit by a constellation of stark white, neon violet, and hot pink—the colors undulating to and fro like luminescent inkblots. Everything felt too out of focus, your senses phasing in and out like a radio signal in a storm. You almost felt intoxicated, but surely you would have remembered drinking? The music sounded too warbled for your liking, so you closed your eyes, zeroing in on your boyfriend’s distinct voice, his siren song sweeping through your eardrums, swirling around your disoriented mind, suffusing your senses with warmth and familiarity.

Opening your eyes, you were suddenly being pressed against a brick wall. Where were you? A nearby alley? Wait, wasn’t there a concert going on? But your thoughts were put on hold, because Piers was right there, entire body flush against yours, face mere inches from your own. He was fully clothed, but the heat radiating from his body amorously dripped down onto your own, seeping into your skin, as if both of you were completely naked. His face moved down to your neck—arms caging you in—and you felt the tickle of his long, silky hair at your collar and across your shoulders. You wanted to say something like, “Piers, we can’t do this here,” but he was already kissing slowly down the smooth column of your throat, sucking sharply at the junction of your neck and shoulder. You exhaled in a shudder as he moved down to your collar, and your stomach flipped at the possibility of being caught like this, but your jaw was sealed shut by some magical force, your tongue caged hopelessly behind your teeth. Suddenly, the top half of your body was bare, exposed to the chilled nighttime air and dim light of the alleyway, but any confusion you felt was overrun by desire as the musician began to caress you chest.

The first inklings of heat pooled between your legs, which, like the rest of your body, was chained back against the wall by an unseen force. You were at the complete mercy of the singer working his tantalizing lips and searing tongue over your flushed skin, leaving a trail of faint, rosy marks in his wake, pulling you apart bit by agonizing bit. You couldn’t see much, not that you could move your head to begin with, but you felt his bangs brush across your sternum, hot breath tickling your goosebump-laden skin. You felt his tongue encircle one of your nipples, slow and teasing, before capturing it in his mouth and sucking salaciously. Your breath hitched, his mouth sending a pang of arousal deep into your lower belly, a sweet gush of warmth permeating your gradually soaking heat. You felt him smirk before continuing his ministrations, alternating between persistently sucking on one nipple, and gently playing with the other between his thumb and forefinger. You couldn’t stand it, not being able to look at him, not being able to run your fingers through his thick, two-toned locks, not being able to tell him how good he was, how you so desperately needed more. You writhed slowly when he switched sides, an image painting itself in your mind—he was staring up at you, under long lashes and sharp eyebrows, his striking blue eyes—rimmed with faded charcoal—gleaming with lust and mischief. His mouth against your breasts, wet, hot, and so inviting, made your mind wander to other parts of your body, parts where the press of his lips and sweep of his tongue would work you over so sinfully, shattering any semblance of composure as you devolved into an absolute wanton mess. A gentle bite around your nipple drew you from your thoughts, gasping against the delicious sensation. Drawing away, he replaced his mouth with his other hand, squeezing your breasts together and playfully encircling each nipple with the pad of his thumb.

“Always so sensitive here, love,” he purred, voice muffled and too far away, yet still dripping with unbridled arousal, “Wonder if I can make you come just by doin’ this,” he mused, pressing against your flushed nipples for emphasis.

If you had a voice you would keen, whimpering like the hopelessly needy thing you were, but instead you could only sigh, arching into his touch with what little strength you had. You gasped when he gave your nipples a loving pinch, chuckling lowly, the rich, melodious sound shooting straight to your dripping pussy, aching and clenching fruitlessly around, well, nothing. Gods, you suddenly felt so empty. Another image manifested itself in your haze, of him pressing you further against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist, burying himself inside of you to the hilt with a husky groan, and pounding into you with wreckless abandon, not caring if anyone heard or saw the two of you in such a compromising position. Would he even stop, if you were caught? The thought made heat bloom in your cheeks and spread down your neck, imagining your chaotic, fearless rockstar making it clear to whomever stumbled upon you that only he could make you, the literal Champion, fall apart so beautifully. You were drawn from your fantasy by the feeling of Piers’ lips traveling down your stomach. He paused to nuzzle your soft belly, humming in appreciation as he squeezed your supple hips, the tender gesture making your heart melt. You deeply cherished the way he made every single part of you feel so attractive, so loved.

You sensed him kneel down, feeling your legs being shouldered further apart, and the rest of your clothing seemed to make itself scarce. You barely had time to dwell on how impossible that was, because the next thing you felt was your boyfriend’s breath tickling the course hair between your legs, the gentle suggestion of what was to come making your clit throb. Softly, so softly, he drew his thumb up the length of your heat, not nearly close enough to give you the sweet contact you needed.

“Hmm… so wet already, love,” he hummed, “Y’ such a good girl.”

You wanted to moan, but you could only exhale in a lustful huff. He chuckled again, his voice utterly intoxicating, and several moments passed thereafter—no sound or movement to ease the tension in your gut. You were holding your breath in anticipation, when finally, he moved, but instead of diving into your aching pussy, like you so desired, he moved back, clearly wishing to torture you just a bit more before indulging your wishes. Nuzzling into your plush inner thigh, he released an affectionate sigh, his breath fanning along your skin, igniting your nerves. Legs tensing around his shoulders, you felt his lashes graze flirtatiously against your thigh, before he moved upwards, kissing and nibbling on the delicate skin all while his hands roamed and massaged the outside of your thighs, reaching around and giving your ass a sultry squeeze. When he reached the space between your thigh and groin, he sucked harshly on the tender area, drawing out a breathless whine from your throat, and before he moved any further, any closer, he retreated again, repeating his smothering affections up your opposite thigh. You were panting by the time he reached your groin again, or whatever the approximation of panting was in your paralyzed state, and to your utter delight and horror, he denied you yet again, drawing back to tease both of your sensitive thighs once more. By now, you felt your heartbeat pulsing between your legs, despite the fact that he had barely given that area any attention. You wanted nothing more than to grab a fistful of his thick, beautiful hair and shove his face into your eager cunt, and you knew for a fact that the handsome bastard would love nothing more. He enjoyed doing this sort of thing to you, drawing you to the absolute brink of neediness and desperation, always ever-so-patient and frustratingly thorough to the point where you were practically begging for release.

Your hips were trembling by the time he reached your upper thigh again, mere inches from where you needed him most. Something within you gave way then, allowing you to cut through the invisible strings that wired your jaw shut. It felt as though your body was working in slow-motion, every movement like wading through glue, but you managed to make a noise.

“Piers…” you breathed his name, just a hint of a syllable, tumbling from your lips in an amorous whimper.

The wanton sound seemed to destroy his resolve, as the next thing you felt was his long, smoldering tongue flush against your sensitive heat, parting your folds with a thick stripe up the length of your pussy. A surge of warmth shuddered up your spine, and the alleyway began to melt around you, brick and mortar giving way to pillows and wrinkled sheets, the darkness absorbed by the soft golden hues of morning’s light.

You awoke with a whine into the heated atmosphere of your shared bedroom, body melting against the mattress as you carded your fingers through your boyfriend’s tousled hair. Blinking the haze from your eyes, your lids felt heavy as you gazed down at him. His bangs were hooked behind his ears to gain uninterrupted access to your pussy, exposing both of his gorgeous, tired eyes, gleaming against his beautifully flushed cheeks as they regarded you lovingly from between your thighs. You had no idea how one person could look so adorable while ravishing you so fully, and from the look he was giving you, you could tell he would be smirking if his mouth wasn’t otherwise preoccupied. Your stomach erupted in butterflies as you watched him lick another languid stripe up your dripping cunt, your head falling back against the pillows as you tugged on his scalp. He groaned against you, the sound making you shudder, the vibrations of his husky voice drawing a sigh from your throat, and you practically keened when he twirled his tongue around your clit, ending in a gentle suck that sent sparks dancing down your legs and into the soles of your feet. Everything about him was overwhelming—his mouth insufferably warm, lips impossibly soft, and tongue absolutely ravenous as he tasted every inch of you, making your toes curl. It all felt so wonderfully slick, and at this point you couldn’t who was making more of a mess. His movements were somewhat sloppy due to what you assumed was sleepiness, but the unpredictability in his actions only added to the tightness building in your hips. The pressure in your abdomen built with ferocity as you squirmed, forcing him to hold your hips down with both hands, chuckling at your eagerness.

His tongue drew more lazy circles around your pulsing clit, before sliding down and diving deep into you aching entrance as far as he could go. Your walls fluttered, body desperate for something thicker, longer, and your grip on his scalp tightened as you dug your heels into his upper back.

“Please…” you whimpered, shocked at the desperation in your own voice.

He needed no further encouragement, sliding a hand down between your thighs, slowly pressing his middle and ring fingers into your welcoming heat while planting a heated kiss to your clit. You almost came from the sensation alone, his long, nimble fingers working you open so much more beautifully than yours ever could. Groaning into you, his movements became more insistent, purposeful, moving around your clit in feverish patterns, your body jolting whenever the flat of his tongue slid across the exposed bud. The noises emitting from the two of you were obscene—the wetness of your heat providing a filthy accompaniment to your pants and moans, as he pumped his fingers deep into your pussy and borderline slurped on your clit. You gasped as he curled his fingers inside of you, your back arching up off the mattress when he pressed against your sweet spot, rocking his hand against your entrance and creating a delicious pace of varying pressures against your inner walls, your pussy squeezing around him instinctively.

“Piers—!“ you cried, losing any semblance of self control and moaning shamelessly as a coil of pleasure tightened inside of you. It was white-hot and exquisite, magnifying every little movement the singer made against and inside of you, until it snapped and released, careening you over the edge as you gasped his name at the ceiling, eyes rolling back before shutting them tight. He groaned as you pushed his head against your quivering heat, grinding against his heavenly mouth and skilled fingers, prolonging your orgasm as your thighs tensed around him. Waves of warmth shuddered through your body, starting deep within your pelvis and working out to your fingers and toes, until finally, finally your body relaxed, whimpering as your boyfriend gave your oversensitive clit one last kiss, before slowly pulling his fingers from your heat. You fell limp against the mattress, your chest heaving as you steadied your breathing, head spinning as you descended from your magnificent peak.

You looked down just as he began to sit back up, his hair cascading in loosely-tangled waves down his pale shoulders, and watched, captivated, as he shamelessly licked your essence from his fingers, an impish gleam in his eyes. You squeaked and covered your face, cooling cheeks now reheating in embarrassment.

“Un-believable,” you groaned, voice muffled by the palms of your hands, “One of these days you’re going to kill me with something like that, I swear.”

He chuckled deeply, and it sounded like a song, sweet like a spoonful of honey and warm like cashmere. You felt a weight land carefully on top of you, followed by the faint whiff of spiced soap, and you lowered your hands to find your boyfriend nuzzling into your chest, gazing up at you with tired, lovestruck eyes and an adorable, lop-sided grin. Your heart fluttered. Gods, you loved him.

You smiled, cradling either side of his face in your hands and pulling him into a kiss, humming affectionately when you tasted yourself on his lips, combing your fingers back through his hair. He moaned softly when you rubbed the sweet spot at the base of his skull, and you giggled as he nibbled lazily on your lower lip. The two of you lingered for a bit, simply enjoying the closeness, before Piers broke away, yawning and burying his face back into the swell of your breasts. You smiled, yawning yourself as you soothingly played with his hair, bringing a sigh from his throat.

“You tired, love?” you asked, pressing a tiny kiss to the crown of his head.

“Mhmm,” he hummed. You felt his voice resonate against your chest.

“I can imagine…” you mused, pondering for a moment. You were still reeling from the earth-shattering orgasm he had so generously gifted you, but something was bothering you—and that something was the long, firm erection pressing insistently against your upper thigh through the musician’s briefs. Going down on you had always managed to rile Piers up, which was something you found incredibly attractive about him, but he usually wasn’t one to ignore it completely, let alone fall asleep before resolving the issue. Although, this was the first time he had done it right after waking himself up, you assumed. Perhaps giving incredible head this early in the morning had knocked the wind out of his sails.

“Babe?” you started.

“Hmm?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” you asked, a hint of flirtatiousness in your voice, shifting your leg ever-so-slightly to rub your thigh against him, his cock practically jumping in response to your gentle attention. Piers sighed heavily, turning his head up towards your face, not yet opening his eyes, and you smiled at the way his cheek smooshed against your skin.

“Yeah, but… ‘m real sleepy… kinda jus’ wanna nap,” he mumbled.

A soft laugh rolled through your chest, lightly jostling the musician’s head. He smiled into your skin, your joy soothing like a lullaby.

“Here,” you started, running your fingers across his scalp one last time before shifting beneath him, “Come and lie next to me, love.”

He mumbled something in response, before lazily crawling up the bed and plopping down beside you, wrapping a long arm around your waist and nuzzling into the small of your back. Biting your lip, you began slowly grinding against him, the soft curve of your ass making his cock twitch. He groaned, pulling you closer and grinding up into you in kind, the friction utterly delicious and tempting.

“We can do it like this, nice and slow, if you want” you hummed, your voice soft and sweet, turning to look back over your shoulder, batting your eyelashes for extra effect, “Please?” your voice lowered, dripping with desire, “I… I want you to come inside me, Piers.”

You couldn’t help but laugh when he immediately shot his hand down to fish out his cock, grumbling into your skin as he did so. You arched your back slightly, lifting your leg to get into position, breath stuttering when you felt his hot member flush against your bare ass.

“It should be easy… since you did such a good job already,” you cooed, shifting against him as he guided his cock to your entrance. Piers shuddered as he dragged the entirety of his aching erection across your pussy, and you gasped when his tip grazed your clit, still sensitive from your previous climax. He helped hold your leg aloft as he began pressing into you, squeezing your inner thigh as he slowly, carefully sank into your folds, his breath hot against the nape of your neck. Flames began to lick at the edges of your mind, within your chest, and across your lower regions as he pressed further, and you gasped as his head gave way to his shaft, tensing as he stretched you further than his fingers had before. Piers immediately froze.

“You alright?” he asked, his smooth, silky voice against your ear, helping you relax.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reassured him, “It didn’t hurt, just caught me off-guard, is all.”

He hummed in response, and you smiled. Even in his sleep-addled state, he was still so attentive and careful with you, warmth blooming in your chest and traveling down between your legs as he continued to press inch by gentle inch, until he was finally sheathed inside of you.

The feeling of fullness sent a shudder clambering up your spine, your walls fluttering around him instinctively, feeling absolutely weak when he groaned in response, his tired voice rich and husky as his breath fanned across the shell of your ear. Gods, you were already so hot and bothered for the second time this morning. How the hell this musician always managed to turn you into a sopping wet mess was beyond you, but you were by no means about to complain.

There was something uniquely intimate about this position, despite not facing each other—his heated body pressed flush against your back, face buried into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as he sighed fondly at the absolute perfect feeling of his cock enveloped in your snug, tight heat. You laid together for a moment, simply basking in the sleepy atmosphere of the room, the morning sunshine filtering through the blinds, bouncing off the ceiling and bathing the room in a soothing glow. Piers’ breathing deepened, relaxing even further into you, and you wondered if he had somehow managed to fall asleep while rock-hard and fully inside of you. You were about to turn and look over your shoulder, but you gasped when he suddenly moved, pulling your leg further upwards and bending it closer to your side, hooking the crook of his elbow into the inside of your knee. You barely had enough time to appreciate the new position, when his long, slender forearm managed to reach perfectly between your legs, his middle finger pressing against your swollen clit. You whined, arching your back as he began to toy with the sensitive nub, your hips beginning to rock of their own accord.

Piers didn’t move just yet, choosing only to swirl his agile fingers around your quickly-soaking heat, reveling in the way you ground back against his cock, squeezing his shaft so sinfully with every sweep of his fingers over your throbbing clit. You couldn’t decide whether you wanted more of his tantalizing fingers or more his wonderfully stiff cock as your hips swirled, your heated breathing turning into desperate panting, shuddering when he licked a hot stripe up the column of your neck.

“Piers…” you moaned, lifting your arm and drawing a hand back through his hair, your nails scratching along his scalp, causing the other to groan softly into the crook of your neck.

“You’re so good for me,” you praised, looking back over your shoulder, your beautifully debauched voice and heavily-lidded gaze tugging at his cock, as well as his heartstrings.

“I love you so mu-uch!“ you gasped as his hips jolted, thrust shallow, yet unexpected, watching as his eyes squeezed shut, the rouge in his cheeks deepening in hue. You couldn’t help but smile, grinning so wide that your eyes crinkled.

“Piers…” you breathed, asking for his attention. He opened his eyes, bright, crystalline, and glossed over with a combination of sleepiness and arousal.

“I love youuu,” you purred, giggling as he buried his warm face back into the crook of your neck.

“Stop…,” he groaned, his cock throbbing inside of you, transforming your laugh into a moan, “You’re gonna make me—ah—‘m not gonna last, if ya keep sayin’ that,” he breathed deeply, steadying himself. Your heart swelled within your chest. You truly loved your sweet, caring, sappy musician so, so much.

Piers reigned in his own pleasure, focusing all of his energy on the finger circling your clit. You felt that familiar coil tighten deep within your gut, your orgasm an inevitability, torn between wanting to savor this moment for as long as possible, and succumbing to sweet euphoria. The way your voice grew louder and more strained, the way your entire body began to writhe, and the way the fluttering pressure around his cock became more frequent, told Piers how close you were to coming undone. The movements around your clit increased in intensity, one finger turning to two, then three, as he massaged your heat at a scorching pace, sending shockwaves through your body and setting your nerves ablaze.

Feeling that something was missing, you drew your hand back, tugging on your boyfriend’s hair. He raised his head with a groan, and you twisted your upper body around, pressing your lips against his own. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but completely worth the effort once his tongue slipped past your lips. Everything built so nicely as you panted against his eager mouth, and when the pleasure boiled over, you were forced to break away as your entire body writhed in ecstasy. Piers watched, completely enraptured as your back lifted in a gorgeous arc, eyes screwed shut, face flushed, and head thrown back against the pillows, moaning his name like a prayer as pulses of warmth surged through your body. His breath hitched as you rode him through your climax, gasping as his hand returned to your thigh, gripping it for dear life as he began pounding into you. His thrusts were slow, deliberate, and powerful, fully indulging in the way you clenched so sweetly around him in your euphoria.

“Shit,” he groaned, voice hot and heavy against your ear, “Keep tight, just like that—good girl.”

You sighed at his praise, whimpering as the rhythm of his cock prolonged your orgasm.

“So fucking good—you feel so fucking good, I fucking love you so much,” he shuddered, voice ragged, practically babbling in his pleasure. You adored the way he came undone when he was close—praises, curses, and declarations of love tumbling freely from his lips as he completely lost himself in you. You rocked your hips back against him, matching his pace, biting your lip as you voluntarily clenched down around him to further draw out his orgasm.

“Shit! Ahh—you’re so good, love, fuck ‘m so close—!” he gasped in your ear, voice pitching in the most vulnerable, sexy way as he came, giving way to shameless groaning as he spilled inside of you. You shuddered at the feeling, almost embarrassed at how much you enjoyed being filled with his cum. It was a reminder of how good you were for him, and you couldn’t help but feel a special type of pride that you could make someone so beautiful, so kind, so talented, feel so good.

Piers panted for a few moments, before exhaling deeply, gently lowering your leg, moaning softly as he pulled out of you, making you shiver at the loss. You sighed as everything softened, muscles relaxing and body sinking into the mattress, the warm, hazy aura of the room tempting you into sleep. Despite your better judgement, you really didn’t want to move, let alone get out of bed, so you decided to save cleanup to future you, who would very much spend the entire time cursing present you. Piers seemed to agree, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you in and spooning you as he buried his face into the nape of your neck, breathing softly, dreamily, as he mumbled against you.

“Seriously love you so much…” he confessed, placing a soft kiss to your cooling skin, “…’m so lucky to ‘ave you…” his voice grew softer, slower, as he was lulled into sleep, “…wanna spend the rest of m’ life with you…”

You hummed happily, relaxing against the sheets, breathing in the scent of cotton and the lingering amber of his cologne, until you fully registered what he had said. Your eyes snapped open, contemplating whether you should ask for further elaboration, but as you felt his body fall limp, the rise and fall of his chest slow and steady against your back, you decided that conversation could wait for another day. For now, you chose to bask in the afterglow, allowing the warm, comforting presence of your blissfully snoozing boyfriend to pull you swiftly into dreamland.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, smiling to yourself, placing your hand over his.

[rpbetter]

Sorry if this isn't the place to ask but I'm in need of advice. I have a canon character I truly adore, but I haven't gotten muse or any opportunity to write them at all. My blog is collecting dust and the fandom is kinda dead at this point. Not to mention, it's hard to find compatible writing partners, especially with how picky I can be. I'm honestly considering deactivating the blog (for the nth time), but I don't want to lose the writing I have. I know I could archive, but I hate having blogs just sitting around.

In short, I really want to write the muse/keep the blog but I'm not getting any incentive to do that.

Hello, Anon, it’s totally the place to ask!

I will say, though, that since finding and keeping muse can be flavored rather personally, I can’t promise that what works for me is going to work for you. I’ll even confess that in over two decades, I’ve never personally lost muse. I don’t know if it is due to underlying, neurodiverse style, fixating, or if it is due to keeping myself continually invested in both my muse and writing regardless of what else is going on. (Probably a combination of both, though, and the things I do to keep myself highly in touch with my muse I’ll be recommending.) I’m definitely happy to try to help, however.

That really is a very frustrating spot to be in, wanting to write the muse and keep your blog active, but logging in every day to be reminded of what little reason you have to do so. Since we’re drawn to the characters we are for reasons of personal appeal and writing in itself is a pretty personal form of art, it can also feel depressing on top of the frustration.

However, that’s also the good news, in my opinion, because your incentive here is, or can be, yourself.

You were drawn to this character because you connected with them. They mean something to you, you can relate to them, maybe they have qualities (good or bad) that you wish you could experience. Whatever it is, there’s a reason why you had this draw. Writing is like that as well, there’s a reason why this is a hobby that drew you, that you get enjoyment out of. Again, though all art (it doesn’t matter if it is a hobby) has personal bits of the artist in it, writing is uniquely personal. When you write, you’re exploring thoughts and feelings, giving them life in a character that matters to you. I know, all of that sounds really convoluted and hokey, but it’s true.

And it’s good! That means you always have a reason to write and that you have the tools necessary to find and keep muse without any outside push necessary.

I’d say, firstly, work on getting muse back.

Get back in touch with your muse the next time you feel a particularly strong urge to write. Instead of spending time trying to find people in a silent fandom or forcing yourself to write something you don’t want to, just do some exercises that will help you get back into your muse.

I don’t know what media type your character comes from, but especially if it is something like movie or show that you can have on in the background of what you’re doing, do that. If it’s a comic or a book, think about your favorite scene and read it over first. If you’ve ever made some playlists for writing/your muse, you can always do that instead or as well. The point is to do something passively inspiring while you actively create. Now, that creating...

You want to do something that requires you to think about your muse so you can get in touch with them, not something that is going to make you feel overwhelmed and shut down. So, maybe don’t pick writing prompts for this - you can work up to that. Try out headcanon and character development memes and other question lists instead for right now. Things you can scroll down a list of, find questions that jump out as interesting (or even simply answerable to you at this point, you’re jump-starting a dead battery, it’s alright) and answer them. You can also do something as simple as write down what you like best about the character or their story, or put down the basics of filling in missing information that has always bugged you.

The beauty of this is that it is all on your own terms, your only objective here is to answer what you want, as much as you want. You can stop any time, but you can also answer a single question for three hours, making it eight pages long if the inspiration strikes you. It’s only about recharging your inspiration and establishing a connection with your character again. (This is also going to help you with getting back into writing, or approaching it for the first time, with a more internalized focus of interest.)

When you feel like you’ve done that, you can branch out on these exercises more. Answer the memes more in-depth, answer more of them/the ones you don’t have immediate answers for. You can also try writing out scenes from the character’s canon from their perspective, if it wasn’t already so, adding in their thoughts and feelings, or changing the scene in some ways that would be interesting to write out. This is the point where it’s a good idea to try a writing prompt or two, as well! Take the prompt as a sort of starter sentence from a mutual, you’ve got the situation, fill in with your muse.

Write when you feel like writing. The RPC is great at saying this when it comes to muns not wanting to write, but kind of ignores the other side of the equation. The side where you want to write, have the inspiration and muse to do so, but it might not be the best time. As in, you’re not home/wherever you usually write, with whatever device you tend to write on accessible. No, you’re not going to be able to get as much done, but you can write without the usual situation and device regardless. You can write a scene or ideas down using your phone or tablet, or go old school and use a notebook. If you’re at work and your job isn’t applicable to being able to get down a single sentence, that still doesn’t mean you have to wait 8+ hours to get home; while you’re taking your break, write a little bit. It is a break, and writing is your hobby, it isn’t work. It’s good to do things you enjoy on breaks, and far more fulfilling to have also accomplished something you happen to enjoy.

Not writing when you have the drive to do, putting it off and holding it in until “the perfect moment,” is a great way to lose your inspiration and never actually have that moment. If you feel like doing it, that means it is the perfect moment. Life is restricting, don’t impose even more restrictions on yourself by having to be at home, in a specific spot, with a specific device, at a specific time, on a specific day. Was that annoying repetition? You’re right, it was. And that’s how your creative mind processes all the crap piled onto it that doesn’t allow for creativity.

Now, the other problem, the fandom situation.

There isn’t anything you can do about that, to be absolutely honest. I’m not going to blow smoke and tell you to be positive, wait it out, maybe the fandom will spring to life again. You know, maybe it will...but you could be waiting literal decades for that to happen. Not cool. Please, take my word for that, it’s personal experience that it blows even more than you imagine it will.

What you can do is take the matter into your own hands in other ways; putting yourself out there with more availability in multiple ways.

Are you a single-fandom blog, or are you crossover friendly? If you’re not crossover friendly, try to think of a single, relatively popular fandom that you enjoy. Don’t look at it like a hassle, but rather, just another creative exercise. A serious pitfall of creating alternate universe versions of muses is to take the simplest route, merely picking something you want from that other universe and applying it to your muse with no relevant changes that would naturally occur from it. It isn’t just reductive as hell, it’s not remotely creative, it’s like sticking a sticker on your muse’s forehead and saying that’s a whole different muse. It’s neither attractive to potential partners nor going to sustain your own interest for long. You want this to be a passionate investment on your own end, for yourself.

What not to do:

Let’s say the fandom you picked to do crossovers with is based around magic, the main characters are witches, and they are divided into factions based on how their magical talents display and develop. Not only do you decide to make your muse a witch, you pick the most badass faction. It’s the one full of assassins and action and (metaphorically or literally) sex appeal. Well, that’s also going to be the most popular faction in the fandom. That means there will not only be plenty of big name canons there but also that there’s going to be a plethora of OCs designed just for this universe...and other crossovers from other currently active fandoms.

While that might sound like it’s great for maximizing interaction chances, it’s really not when you’re just starting somewhere new with a character from another fandom that might not be known or liked. It can also take a minute in another fandom’s RPC to identify where the good partners are. Every now and then, it is the most popular and over-populous era/faction/etc., but most of the time, it isn’t. People who write with considerable dedication and talent fairly rarely are in the popular kids club even in their fandom choices. By inserting yourself into that area, you might be bypassing (and being bypassed) by better partners on the assumption that their characters are simply going to bore you to death since they’re not within the scope of your focal point.

It’s not a situation of not being allowed to be picky, you not only have that right regardless of your situation, you also should be. This is not a “beggars can’t be choosers” situation, you’re not beholden to anyone on the basis of being new and bored. However, some of my best, and longest lasting, writing partners over all 23 years I’ve been RPing didn’t/don’t fit with all the exact surface details that automatically draw my interest. It is as true within my own fandom as it is in dealing with crossovers. Opposites (with enough similarities) really do attract and work out well together!

Don’t judge and write people off for anything that isn’t an issue of compatibility with your muse, your writing, or yourself. Decline someone because they do one line only and you are novella, they write topics that are upsetting to you, you can see no way your muse and theirs can interact without instant murder, or because you cannot stand writing with someone who is pulling 90% aesthetics and purple prose. Not because their muse is a witch who uses life-based magic, loves nature, is a healer, and into their health...while your muse in this AU is all about the death, only appreciates an urban environment and is grossed out by animals, kills as an occupation, lives on cheeseburgers and caffeine. You see what I’m saying? Don’t limit yourself unnecessarily!

What to do:

Did you consider if, in that hypothetical idea of a fandom, your muse based on their purely canon self would even fit into that faction? Or is it just something you wanted to see? If you didn’t consider this, or it was the latter, fix that. That’s bad.

If you’re not absolutely dead set on that and only that, think about what really does fit the muse better. Maybe, they would be better as a healer, someone who messes with the very fabric of reality, or someone who manipulates natural elements at will. Then again, they might not even be a witch. They could be more mundane in terms of power, but more accurate and interesting as a normal, human (or whatever). They could even be greatly opposed to the use of magic and witches. Use your muse’s original canon as a base to decide these things.

If you are absolutely dead set on it, though, you have a lot of work to do making the character into what amounts to a markedly different one while still retaining some recognizable aspects of themselves. Consider what events, in this new universe of fandom, might have happened to alter the character thus. Keep in mind that even small changes can have great consequences in a character’s development, and you might need to think about the myriad ways in which that can display, how it changes still more things for this character.

While that job becomes so much more intense when you haven’t planned out a path that matches your muse’s canon characterization at all, it is still an important part of constructing an AU, of any kind, in general. Ask yourself what experiences led to the character you know as you already know them (including your own headcanons, yes). Then, find similar possible experiences within your new fandom verse that can have the same effect. Again, though, it’s important to understand that you are never going to have an identical set of experiences, so you need to explore relevant changes still.

When you do this, you’re allowing your muse to more seamlessly fit into this other universe in a fleshed out, interesting way. Interesting both new partners and yourself.

Okay, next obnoxious question from me! Do you have multiple verses, or are you single-verse?

Whether you are already exploring new fandoms or not, by creating a variety of verses for others to interact with, you’re increasing your chances for interest and activity. When you have a verse from a different fandom you can then, additionally, advertise your presence in both that fandom’s tags when you do a promo or applicable open starter and on active RPer lists for that fandom.

Every popular fandom has such lists. You can get on them by messaging/sending an ask to the blog or by reblogging their post to be added, following the directions. I haven’t seen one yet that doesn’t allow for crossovers. You simply have to tag it as stated in the post, such as “your canon’s name here - original fandom name - crossover.” By tagging your open starter or promo as “-insert fandom here- rp” and “-fandom here- open starter” you allow people in that fandom to find you to interact. Either way is excellent for getting started in totally new places with a character others might be unfamiliar with.

Please remember that if you tag a promo as “promo,” it’ll not show up in searches off of your blog. You know, where it actually needs to be searched. Thanks, tumblr, for being janky! Being more specific as to the fandom and character will help others actually find you. Don’t shoot yourself in the foot by tagging it as “promo.”

Make your verses accessible on your blog itself, in the nature of those verses, and how you set up your page or post that lists them.

Don’t put any page behind an impossible or complicated aesthetic. You really shouldn’t anyway, but when you’re needing interactions, it’s actively hurting your chances. Many people don’t want to have to play a game with your theme, it’s a turn off. Try a pinned post that lists all of your links to important pages like rules, verses, and bio instead. It means that, even from the dash, that information can quickly be found while other muns are first interested, and also that anyone who might be using the app can access it more expediently. (I’m genuinely not a fan or big supporter of doing google docs for rules, verses, bios, etc., as it forces people off site, so I can’t personally say, in good conscious and honesty, that I’d recommend it, but you do you!) You want to keep things quickly accessible is the idea here; when people are interested, you want to catch them right then and there before they have a chance to forget and lose your blog.

As to the nature of the verses themselves, give people real options. Don’t have 20 verses that all read same way. Same themes, plot possibilities, and backstories, or incredibly similar names. Have a diverse list of verses that can act as foundations for a variety of different muns. As many fandoms as you can reasonably have a good portrayal of, and different types of fandoms; not all the same genre (all fantasy, all horror, all scifi). Verses where your muse has substantially different goals, occupations, and other life situations that will involve another muse; don’t make your muse A Warrior™ in every verse, you can keep plenty of those aspects without being that literal. People love “modern” verses set in our own universe and, usually, in our own era. That doesn’t mean you have to go stereotypical or otherwise bore yourself by doing the standard “high school/college verse,” for instance. You don’t even have to designate that sort of thing, let alone make it the focus; simply create the verse by considering what your character really would be like if they existed within your reality.

As a final note on verses as pertains to this point, when you’re doing crossover verses, it’s alright to do some verses where your muse from their own canon existence somehow ends up teleported or whatever to another fandom’s reality, or even our own. Just don’t make every verse like this, it puts the onus of a great deal of creativity and effort onto the other mun by default; your muse has cluelessly dropped into the universe, and while it is high drama time for you, the other mun has to babysit, educate, deal with fallout, etc.

On making the list of your verses accessible, you want to focus on ease of browsing and not being overwhelming. People tend to look through a verse page and not read every verse listed, rather, they look at the titles and breakdowns to see if it is of interest, then read it. Don’t try to make everyone read them all, it isn’t going to happen, and shouldn’t change your effort any as the right people are going to find the verses that interest them...if you make it clear and easy enough.

Have a basic format you stick to, firstly. I do it this way: small verse banner, title of verse (linked to its overall tag so that muns can look through the tag at headcanons, aesthetics, pictures of the FC, and threads), muse age/age range, small blurb, possible triggers found uniquely or just heavily within this verse. In that order, one following the other in a simple, but pleasing way. Below that, is a more in depth breakdown of the “verse canon.” Sometimes, that is giving a brief rehashing of canon itself and anywhere my muse differs, be it in this verse only or overall, ending with where my muse is in this verse. Not literally where. I mean their present occupation, emotional and general state in life. At the very end, I provide any other relevant links and/or an expansion on the triggers mentioned at the top of the verse description if they’re that serious/recurrent so that muns can decide this isn’t the verse for them. I happen to have a potentially triggering muse, triggering verses, and writing triggering topics, though. That’s not something everyone needs to do.

Secondly, group your verses in a sensible way. I do my short list of default verses first. (And, I do mean short, you don’t want this be any more than four or five, it is overwhelming right out of the gate.) For me, that is two default verses of canon at different points on the timeline, one default AU that is a bit of a reversal of canon, and one default “modern” verse. Then, I list the verses that are in line with the altered canon one, just different possibilities, changes, points in history. After that, the different “modern” verse options. Then, verses for other fandoms, the crossover verses. And so on. This way, a potential partner can find the type of verse that might appeal to them and have an easier time picking from those possibilities and getting ideas.

Lastly, don’t be so succinct that you give too little information and underwhelm, but also don’t be so excessive that it takes all of the mystery of interaction away and overwhelms someone. It can be a difficult balance to strike, and some verses require more information than others, just experiment a bit. Additionally, it’s fine to link to pertinent information for the other mun to view aside from this, but don’t just link people to a fandom wiki as your “description/bio.” That isn’t giving information on how you write this muse, approach this fandom, or what another mun can otherwise expect. Keeping your descriptions interesting is important, you’re not giving a boring lecture, you’re trying to inform someone while making them hyped for their choices. It’s more interesting, and informative, to read if you do them with an ear to the “tone” of your muse in that verse. Is it a sad one? Sound that way. These can, indeed, function as snippets of your writing, so be sure you are writing them with the same care you should be giving your replies; spellcheck, good word flow and use, mind the grammar, and read over what you’ve written for common, easy mistakes.

Again, by giving a genuine variety of verses to choose from, you’re allowing for a greater reach in potential partners. Everyone from those still in your original fandom to those in new ones, all the way to fandomless muses will be able to interact with you this way.

Finally, in regards to what you can change or do when you’re in a dead fandom and seeking interactions; make sure you are increasing your reach by using proper tags, being honest about what and how you write, and don’t wait for others to stumble across you.

When you use tags properly, you’re increasing your chances of being seen at all. Every time you post something at all applicable on your blog, tag it with relevant things. Tag as described above with whatever fandom it is and “RP,” your character’s name, “open RP,” character name and RP, indie RP, open starter, and so on. Be sure you are optimizing your tags by placing the most relevant to finding you in the first four, those are what show up in site-wide searches only. Anything after that isn’t going to appear in a search across all tumblr.

By tagging your character’s name, as a canon, you should know that you are likely to get personal blog interaction. I’m pretty against being nasty to personal blogs for no reason, as I don’t appreciate personal and fandom blogs being shitty to me for the sole reason that I am an RPer. Please, use clear, short, attention getting directions for them. If you want no interactions with them, put right in the description of your blog “RP blog, does not interact with personal blogs.” When you say things like, “personals dni,” or “personals blocked,” you’re not doing anyone any favors. Personal blogs often don’t even know what the hell a personal blog even is! They do not denote themselves this way, to a personal blog, they’re just a blog. By designating first that you are an RP blog, you’re making it clearer that they’re the personal; they’re obviously not an RP blog, so that must make them a personal. Follow this up in a pinned post, right on top. Give a note to personal blogs that describes them as “any blog that isn’t an RP blog” first, then either tell them in brief what they can and can’t do or that you don’t interact and will block.

I don’t recommend taking your blog off of being findable, however. That’s alright once you have the RP activity you are looking for, but until then, it’s working against you. Other RP blogs cannot easily find you either, they will only find you if you’re on a list or appear in their recommended blogs, if you interact with a mutual, or are recommended by a mutual. You’re not just lessening your chances of personal blogs finding you, so if you have that turned off, turn it back on.

Don’t entirely rely on others finding you regardless, though. You can’t be 100% passive when you have no interactions, and by relying solely on serendipity you’re far less likely to get them. I know that everyone here is terminally shy, but seriously, you have to do more than put your silent will into the universe that someone perfect find you. You have to make this happen. Once you get a few people, you can afford to be more passive. Not only do you have some people to write with, you will be more visible to their mutuals, and more established as a presence. I’m not saying this is easy, or that it will become easy, not awkward or stressful, if you have a legitimate issue behind the shyness. Just that it is the only way to really proceed, and I believe you can do it!

So, go looking for interesting blogs. Be crossover and OC friendly (again, this doesn’t mean “accept everyone,” there are valid reasons for not accepting people you won’t work out with that have nothing to do with their fandom or being an OC), and search those fandom’s RPCs, following any blogs you think you might work out with upon reading their rules and other pages. Search for fandomless OCs and do the same thing. Fandomless OCs aren’t just floating around in the ether, they just weren’t created expressly for a particular fandom and within its confines. What is excellent about that is their ability to have a wide variety of verses and many possibilities to fit into any fandom or verse. So, don’t count them out solely on the basis of being an OC and fandomless. It doesn’t mean what people seem to think it does!

Do not stop at having followed 50 blogs. I mean, other than that you probably should stop following people for a bit. That you should do, as you need to be building writing relationships here, not following so many people that you cannot get to them. Don’t just stop at the follow, though. Since you’ve read their rules and information like a good RP partner, you should have some idea of what their interests are and where they align with yours, as well as how they prefer to be approached, if they accept memes right away to start, need plotting, have a rules password. When they’ve followed you back, proceed with interaction!

Ask if they’d like to plot when they have time, you’re really looking forward to writing with them. But...have some idea of a plot, please. It is a serious turn off to have someone message you wanting to plot, only to reply and get “lol I don’t have any ideas, anything works for me/whatever you want to do.” That isn’t plotting, it’s one party coming up with ideas and constructing a plot while they’re being told “I’m fine with anything.” That may be true, but it’s disheartening and a red flag for many people. If you genuinely can’t come up with anything, pick verses that match up well and suggest doing something within them.

“When you have the time, would you be interested in discussing writing? I was looking at your verses, and I think your verse -name- and mine, -verse name-, would mesh well.” Is a good way to start. Once you have a discussion flowing about the verses meshing and the muses, it’s typically easy to organically develop some plot ideas to go off of.

If both you and the other mun are alright with plot-free interaction and memes, you can send a meme any time. If you can’t find any memes on their blog, look for a wishlist or navigation page that shows you the tags for memes/wishlist. Still can’t find it? Ask them if they’ve got a wishlist or meme tag you can look through.

Additionally, if open starters are a thing you both do and are alright with, find some of theirs and respond. Post your own, tag it appropriately to be found in general and on your blog, and reblog it once or twice. Don’t excessively reblog it, and don’t get upset on the dash if no one interacts with it or any memes you reblog. Both are demanding to outright guilting, and not a good way to get partners. Just provide them with the ability to easily interact by making the posts available in the first place and by making them findable on your blog search and navigation.

Provide something for potential partners to see. Since you said you already do have writing, that’s great! That’s content on your blog that your partners can view. However, since you’re also having the issues you’ve stated, it’s likely that you haven’t many new posts. Show that you are active, interested in being here, and how you write your muse (and in general) by posting some newer content. For original content, do a headcanon or some meta, or post about new verses you are adding, the changes on your blog, a promo. For reblogs, things pertaining to your muse like canon imagery, fanart, quotes from canon or that generally express your muse, and aesthetics relevant to your muse are all excellent things to queue.

Use that queue. Not only do very few people appreciate having dash spam of similar content for the comparatively short time you might be around, but also, running these things on a queue means you spread that out for maximum view. While there are hours of heavier activity, you’ll have mutuals who are on at unusual hours due to their life and preferences or their timezone. This way, you’re not appearing inactive, if not outright invisible, to those mutuals. It’s not a bad idea to use a queue tag so that people know if they interact with a post that’s been queued, you might be here to quickly respond.

Ultimately, to fix your fandom and lacking partners problem, you just need to up your availability and reach beyond that fandom alone. Be proactive in following and approaching, decline blogs based on not working out only, utilize tags and fandom RPer lists, have everything on your blog easy to follow and not overwhelming, and have your verses meet as wide of a range of people as possible while also not being overwhelming.

Try updating your promo, as well, by the way. They’re not dead, they just really tanked when people kept making them based solely on aesthetic principle instead of being at all informative about the muse. They do seem to be coming back, so it’s a thing to consider.

Yes, make it visually appealing, it will draw people to reading it. No, do not just use a song lyric or quote with words highlighted linking your rules, verses, bio. Tell people basic info like the age of your muse and yourself, if you are multiverse and multiship, your muse’s canon verse and a couple of big interest verses of other major fandoms or themes that tend to be of interest to people, and what kind of RP you write - one line/para/multipara/novella. Absolutely give links to rules, verses, bio, and either memes, wishlist, or open starters, but give them just like that; make it very clear what this link is to. Put a very short statement of interest on there denoting that you’re expanding to new fandoms and looking for writing partners.

Do not sound desperate, demanding, or devaluing of yourself. Don’t say shit like “because my fandom is dead,” “trying this before I give up and delete my blog,” or “I suck at interaction/writing/ooc interaction/being a person but welp giving it a try, so follow and hit that heart.” (Conversely, calling yourself derogatory things and implying that your partners are too, such as the “we’re all just losers here” shit.) All of the above are not attractive, and they’re not even surprising enough to stand out anymore. It’s another reason to scroll right by that promo because nothing at all was different or of interest.

And as a wrap-up/rehash of the first topic, getting muse back: try starting over at the beginning by approaching the media involving your muse that has really stuck with you emotionally over the years, and exploring and developing your muse again.

Don’t tell yourself you can only write, for example, at home, on the laptop, after 7pm, and with a pop toy staring at you. The best thing about writing, as opposed to so many other hobbies, is that you can do it anywhere! So, do that. Do it any time you both feel the inspiration to do so and aren’t going to get fired or expelled for it. This isn’t work, it’s something enjoyable that does take effort (like literally all creative activities and skills do), but approaching it as though you need to follow novel writing advice from someone who has never published anything of note and isn’t you on the internet, with strict rules for success makes it feel that way. So does being frustrated with a dead fandom, no interaction. It’s disheartening, feels as annoying and fruitless as work often does. You probably need to break out of that mindset, and you can only do it by beginning to allow yourself to be creative on your own terms, entirely for yourself.

Do write simple things at first that you are inspired to do (you can’t get a scene out of your head, or a bit of dialogue), and/or headcanon/character development memes and question lists. Build from there as you get back in touch with your muse, writing things primarily or entirely for yourself still. Expanding on headcanons, doing some meta, or maybe writing out a missing piece of canon or what you’d be interested in seeing happen in canon if some event was altered.

Doing this sort of thing, you are getting in touch with your muse again and back into the real spirit of writing creatively, simultaneously.

Whatever you find most inspiring, do it. If it’s watching the movie or show again, do that, have it on while you write or simply think on the character’s actions, thoughts, and emotions during those scenes. If it’s reading the material again, do that, and read snippets of personal importance before you write. Maybe it’s some past playlists you can have on while writing, or even while you’re cleaning, walking the dog, driving or riding somewhere. It could even be your own previous writing! Go ahead and re-read that, it sounds like you still appreciate it, and that’s truly promising. If you find that you’re horrified by some of the things you’ve written in the more distant past, hey...that’s not just valid as hell, it’s natural. You know what else it is? An inspiration. You can clearly see that you could do better, that means you now know how to do better and are ready to do so. Validate yourself, prove it to yourself by rewriting or fixing something.

Don’t delete the blog or archive it. It is unpleasant to have a dead blog around, but don’t keep it dead. Use the same blog and simply transition it into wider things that will net you more partners and the interactions you deserve.

Look, even if you weren’t the most popular blog in your fandom before it went quiet, you really appreciated the blog, muse, and writing you were doing. You’ve defined that it wasn’t something you did to cause this situation, you just had the shit luck we all run into eventually of being in a fandom that ran out of material or interest. People are really fickle, so by taking a wider approach and fixing on the writing and muse instead of fandom now, you’re stopping this from repeating. Seriously, on a long enough timeline, every fandom dies or goes into hibernation. If you make a whole new blog with a different muse, it is going to happen again eventually.

So, don’t feel like you’re ridiculously clinging to the past and need to move on, you’re just sticking to something and can continue to stick to it through the next five fandom deaths. Just because it is the most popular thing to do to drop muses, constantly add new ones, and have this attitude that you can “blog refresh” your way out of recurrent, and inherent, problem doesn’t mean it is actually the right thing to do. It’s not even the most sensible, and certainly not the best thing to do with anything you’ve spent time and effort on.

That’s your incentive; yourself, the time and care you’ve put in, and your continued interest in writing and the muse. You’ll find good people, and bluntly, everyone else can fuck right off when you’re incentivized by yourself. It becomes a self-fulfilling activity at that point, I swear, and it feels really nice.

Just get back in touch with your muse and writing itself so that you can begin to expand and start interacting again!

[namfine]

⊙ | 𝕷𝖚𝖝𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖆 : 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 | ⊙

              Lust is an inordinate craving for the pleasures of the body. 

                                      ��- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

α pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

α word count: 7.1k

α summary: A loveless marriage drives you to a dark part of your city in search of the things that once made you happy. Instead, you find a man who awakens carnal desires deep inside you that you never knew existed. An impulsive decision and a loss of control make for the best paintings but driven past the point of no return- tell me, is it worth falling for?

α tags/TW: 18+, smut, bts smut, taehyung x reader, reader insert, artist Taehyung, strangers, knife play, blood play, rough sex, master x servant relationship, dom x sub relationship, dominant male, dirty talk, unprotected sex, affair, alcohol consumption, sex under the influence, daemon au

α part: 1 of 7 of our Seven Deadly Sins Milestone Challenge.

⋫ Link to Master List here 

α  a/n: Hello and welcome to the first piece in our Sin Challenge! We are beyond excited to share this journey with you, please check out the master list for the rest of the pieces which will be released once a day for the next 7 days. This piece was a blast to write but I did let out a little bit of my kinky self (just a tiny bit, it’s not too crazy) and I hope you all enjoy it. 

- ☆.｡.:* Zesty .｡.:*☆

The minute you saw him you knew you were in trouble.

It was a Tuesday. You were out for a walk trying to escape the reminders of a loveless marriage that waited for you when you returned home. You were in what would have been called a dodgy part of your city but it reminded you of your old college town and you couldn’t give it up.

Litter crowded the sidewalk and you swerved around panhandlers trying to score a few cents. You stood out in your business clothes, the handbag a gift from your husband as an apology for his latest secretary fling.

You looked at the bag, the designer label loud and proud on the front. You can’t say you were surprised that your husband had wandering eyes. After all, that’s how you came to marry him in the first place. You were his secretary too, once. A fling that he started to escape his second wife. One you participated in because you were young, vulnerable, and searching for a thrill. You were always just another conquest on his radar, never seen as an equal and definitely never loved.

In college you never imagined living such an unhappy future.

Maybe that’s what drew you here. What led you to the little art studio under the neon signs, tucked behind the tattoo shop where men slouched outside taking long drags of stolen cigarettes. A quarter life crisis where you tried to grasp what made you happy in the past.

Stepping into the studio was like taking a step into another world. Darkness enveloped you, the walls a deep sapphire blue with spotlights illuminating the classically inspired art pieces. You walked further in, careful to avoid the other patrons, the grey stone floor made your heels sing and you wished silently for anything else so you wouldn’t draw any more attention to yourself. No one was speaking loud, only hushed whispers as pairs and groups mingled through the gallery, admiring the works. You weren’t surprised as you took in one after the other of the elaborate paintings  that the visitors were both too stunned and aroused to casually chat. The works depicted some of life’s most desired and feared moments.

Every one of the paintings showed people fucking.

Every position you could imagine, with and without clothes, choking, bondage, everything. You perused the works, each one simultaneously taking your breath away as well inspiring a curiosity deep within you that you hadn’t felt in years. Clearly the creator was proficient in the art of lovemaking and not afraid to show it.

You zoned in on the face of a woman in pure ecstasy, her head thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut, lips parted. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt that sort of passion with your husband or any of the others before him. You didn’t think you’d ever had.

Something drew you from your thoughts and your eyes flicked across the room, surprised to meet the eyes of a young man. He looked to be mid to late twenties and wore simple loose fitting tan pants with a deep blue shirt tucked in. He was flanked on either side by two beautiful women who appeared to be deep in a conversation that didn’t include him, but his eyes never left you. He was striking, to say the least, with brilliant shaggy black hair and a smirk that conveyed a lazy sense of male confidence that you could feel from where you stood.

It was exhilarating.

Unnerved by your response, you broke the gaze and spun out of the gallery back to the loud street. You paused for a minute on the street, your back flush against the brick building of the gallery, avoiding the looks of edgy passersby.

Who was he?  

You pushed the thought deep into the back of your mind and left the street heading back to the silent home where you knew your husband would be absent.

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You found yourself in that little gallery in the corner of the city a few more times that month. Soon, it was like your feet were bringing you there without your mind even realizing it. You would just wake up when you walked through the ornate gold trimmed door, into the plush dark blue of the room. It was better than being home, constantly reminded that your marriage was a sham and probably the biggest mistake of your life. Whether you visited for the art pieces or him even you didn’t really know. Regardless, you never caught another glimpse of the mysterious raven-haired man and honestly, it was probably for the better. At least this way you retained some form of plausible deniability about why you actually visited the gallery.

It was a Saturday, late in October, when you noticed it. You were working your way through the pieces, paying special attention to your favorites, the ones you wished you were bold enough to try when your eyes found a small one tucked into the back of a winding hallway. Like all the others, the only luminance was the small spotlights meant to display the piece and you moved down the hall to get a closer look.

It hadn’t been there the last time you visited, you were sure of it, so it must have been new. It was smaller than the others, more intimate, portraying two lovers, as opposed to some of the elaborate orgy scenes you had witnessed the artist releasing more of lately.

The male had what appeared to be a medieval dagger in his hands and was using the handle to pleasure his partner’s clit. She had nicks on her skin on her collarbone, fingers, hips where he must have pricked her before but she looked to be enjoying every second, a leather collar tight around her neck, it’s leash in his other hand that gripped her firmly on her hip.

“I haven’t seen you here before, is this your first time?” A husky voice from behind you caused you to jump and you turned around, your face turning beat red.

It was him.

He was garbed in a similar style as the last time you had seen him, this time black slacks and smooth red silk shirt. He blended into the darkness of the navy walls and stepped forward a bit so the spotlight from the painting bounced off his chiseled features. He was even more beautiful up close with eyes so dark the pupil disappeared and full lips above a defined jaw. He had styled his hair today slightly to the side and you could see a sliver of a flawless forehead. Clearly, he had been taking care of his body and you could see the peek of a toned chest from the deep v of his shirt. He was all dark shadows and long lines, his feet slipped into a simple pair of backless dress shoes.  How did someone this beautiful exist? Did he not remember me from last time?

Of course he wouldn’t.

He had been surrounded by two stunning women and with a face like that, you were sure he was used to it.

“No,” you responded motioning to the art work. “I come here often after work. I really like the artist’s work. It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he responded and you whipped your head back to him to see him hiding a small grin.

“You’re the artist?” You asked, amazed.

“Is that so astounding?”

You took in his appearance again, so casual and cool. He had both hands in his pant pockets now and was leaning on one foot, giving off an air of quiet confidence.

You shook your head. “No, I guess not.” It really didn’t surprise you in the slightest. You were immediately drawn to this man and obviously attracted to the artwork so it made sense that he had created it. “So . . .” You were eager to continue the conversation, get to know him more. “What’s your favorite piece?”

His eyes lit up at that and he led you on a tour of the studio, pointing out pieces he particularly enjoyed making or that he thought turned out well. You watched as his features changed from casual aloofness to one of childlike excitement as he talked about his work. It was late and what few patrons there were happy to leave you both to your own devices, and you continued for about an hour with no interruptions. It was near closing when he led you to another piece you hadn’t seen before.

This one was simpler, two people once again in the throes of passion but this time only the man’s face was visible, his eyes peering down at his lovers while he chased his release.

“Are all of your paintings. . . . uh” you searched for the right word. “Do all of your paintings contain such visceral acts?”

He raised an eyebrow at your choice of words. “Yes, all of my paintings show people fucking.”

The way he enunciated the last word made the hairs on your arms stand up.

“And. . . “ you couldn’t meet his eyes. “Do you paint from experience?” You didn’t know what game you were playing but you couldn’t deny your attraction to this man. You were walking a dangerous line.

He studied you intently. “Not all of them. Some are just fantasies of mine. I like knowing that my work can inspire others to spice up their sex lives. Give them ideas of things they might like to try.”

Wow, a real civil servant.

“What are your fantasies?” he asked, bluntly.

You met his eyes. “I don’t know, I guess I’m sort of stuck. Maybe that’s why I keep coming here.”

“I have some more, up in my apartment if you need more inspiration.”

A dangerous line, indeed.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I don’t even know your name and besides-” you indicated to the ring on your finger and shrugged. “I’m married.”

The man didn’t seem deterred by the announcement of your marriage in the slightest. In fact, he didn’t seem surprised at all. “The name’s Taehyung and I highly doubt your husband will be upset if you come home with some great ways to spice up your sex life. In fact, he’ll probably be grateful.”

He had you there. Although it had been months since your husband had even touched you.

“Okay,” you replied before your brain could stop you.

“Great, let me close up and grab my coat. It’s within walking distance,” he turned to leave.

“Y/N,” you blurted and he turned to look over his shadow at you. “That’s my name.”

“I know.”

                                     - - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

         Hyper indulgent.

                                               Irresponsible.

                                                                                   Impulsive.

That’s probably what they’ll say about me, you thought as you followed Taehyung out the back door of the studio and into the crisp night air. It’s important to note that you knew it was wrong. When all was said and done, you went in with your head clear.

You weren’t ignorant. You knew where this was heading.

He led you down a winding alley behind the gallery, wrapping his hand warmly around yours when you tripped on some exposed cobblestone. He and you both knew that seeing the paintings was a cover for what he really could offer you. A night of passion.

The sun had set long ago but you found yourself admiring the way the street lights illuminated the crevices of the brick buildings. Something about being with this man heightened your senses. You found yourself entranced with the laundry that dangled thirty feet above your head, the steam bursting out of the old metal pipes that danced outside the buildings.

He glanced back at you, watching as your face changed into one of wonder, your fingertips brushing the edges of the alley, returning covered with dew. You missed the small, mischievous smile he gave you as he pulled you up some narrow stairs. Too focused on your heightened awareness of a city you thought you had seen every bit of you didn’t resist as he pulled you into a doorway at the top casting a predatory look at the lines of your neck, the curve of your collarbone.

You came to your senses within Taehyung’s apartment. Dark shapes rose out of the darkness and you felt a slight prick of fear in the back of your mind as you realized you had just followed a stranger to his apartment in the middle of the night and no one knew where you were. He released your hand, as if he sensed your unease, and began moving around his space turning on the few lamps he had but mostly lighting the candles he had lined against the walls.

Tentatively, you took a few steps into the room. The soft light illuminated the dark shapes to be a collection of eclectic objects that included a few nude marble statues, a large dark green fern atop a baby grand piano, and a suit of armor stashed in a corner. To say he was a collector was to put it minimally. He had the usual couch and dining table but they were buried beneath art supplies and hidden behind canvases of unfinished works. A single door appeared across the room, furthest from you as he lit a few more candles that you assumed was his bedroom.

Your mind followed your feet as you were drawn to a rather large painting across from the couch where one may have put a television, although Taehyung didn’t have one. It was of two lovers, gripped in a passionate embrace, not unlike the others in the room or in his studio. What drew you to it was that the people weren’t quite  human. You couldn’t put your finger on it but there was something different about the way they gripped one another. The glint in their eyes as they fucked, almost predatory - but definitely vital. Desperate.

You tilted your head and watched as their forms seemed to shift before your eyes. Dark wings sprung from the male’s back, a spindly tale grew out of the female. You reached out, tracing the edge of the elongated canines on the male, your fingers moving down his body to the nails growing, shaping-

“Like what you see?” Taehyung’s voice drew you from your trance and you turned to see him looking at you from across the room, face shrouded in the darkness of the dim light. He was shaking his hand slightly to extinguish a match.

You whipped your head back to the painting to find the creatures returned to their human state. No wings. No tails. Just regular plump humans gettin’ it on.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, your fingers tracing the same hand that had grotesquely sported the inhuman nails only seconds before.

“Would you like something to drink?” Taehyung asked, his voice sounding off further than it had a second ago. You whipped your head in his direction only to find him behind the counter of the kitchen, clear on the other side of the apartment. How did he get there so fast?

“Uh, yes please.” You responded moving towards him and pushing the thought of the shifting painting from your mind.

Taehyung pulled out an aged bottle of what appeared to be red wine from a place called LaVeyan Vineyards. The bottle was nearly completely black, dusty like it had sat for years in the same place, and a simple gold trim around the edge of the label.

“What is that?” You asked, sitting on one of the twin leather barstools across from him.

He looked at you, a single eyebrow raised. “Wine.”

You rolled your eyes. “I got that, genius. I meant what kind?”

Taehyung pulled two ornate wine glasses from an old china cabinet and placed them in front of you, making quick work of opening the bottle. He shrugged as he poured two glasses. “I don’t remember. A friend of mine made it ages ago. It’s vintage.”

You took a glass in your hand, swirling it slightly to make sure it was properly aerated, brushing off the comment about his friend making vintage wine. Taehyung didn’t look much older than 28, you weren’t sure how anything his friends made could be considered vintage.

Regardless, the wine emanated a strange smell that you couldn’t quite place. You were no expert but you had enjoyed more than your fair share of wine in your life and this one smelled metallic.

Taehyung didn’t seem to notice or at least didn’t care and brought the smooth liquid to his lips for a long taste. Following suit, you sipped it, smacking your lips to try and place the flavor. Sweet yet . . . . tangy?

“Do you like it?” He asked, leaning his elbows on the counter across from you so that your faces were closer together.

You nodded. “It’s . . . . unusual. But good.”

He smiled. “So, y/n, are you an artist as well?”

You shook your head, taking another sip of the wine. It was growing on you. “No, not at all actually,” you placed the wine on the counter, clasping your hands under your chin and resting your head on them to peer up at him through long lashes. “That’s part of the reason I was so drawn to your work. It’s something I have absolutely no talent for.”

Taehyung chuckled. “Ah, so you were drawn by my work. Not necessarily by me.”

So bold.

“I didn’t say that.” You traced the rim of your glass with your index finger, aware of the way his eyes devoured your every move. I am so going to hell for this.

Taehyung smiled, but it was a smile that held no joy. He smiled like he had a dirty secret that only the devil knew about. “What do you want, Y/N?”

The question took you by surprise. What did you want? Why were you there? In the back of your mind, you knew this was wrong. But there was just something about Taehyung, you couldn’t put your finger on it. Something about him called to the primal parts of your body, the parts that you usually buried deep inside yourself. He made you want to throw caution to the wind and just let go of your inhibitions.

It wasn’t only that he was probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen, although that helped, it was his entire aura. The manor in which he conducted himself, his confidence, the deep timbre of his voice.

You were losing control.

You lifted the wine glass to your lips, now less than half full and took a long sip, considering your answer.

“I want to have a choice in my life for once, I want to do what I want to do. Not what someone else tells me I should do.”

Taehyung seemed to like that answer. He stared at you thoughtfully as he polished off his glass.

“What about you? What do you want?” you asked.

The dim lighting couldn’t hide the glint in his eyes as he reached to grab the bottle of wine, pouring himself another full glass. The dark red liquid swirled slowly, guided by an expert hand and he brought it to his full lips to take a sip before answering your question.

“I want you.”

You were taken aback by his curtness, you had only just met after all. You brought your wine glass to your lips and tipped it back only to stop abruptly. The liquid at the edge of your mouth wasn’t wine.

You pulled the glass back and for a brief second you stared at the liquid, thicker than wine but just as dark. You dipped a single finger into the glass. The liquid was room temperature, as all red wine should be, but slightly heavier in viscosity. You lifted the red coated finger to your lips, inserting the finger into your mouth. The liquid was metallic in taste, different than it had tasted mere minutes before. Taehyung’s eyes watched you intently.

It was almost like the more  you drank the more you wanted him. The wine acting as some sort of criminal aphrodisiac, pushing yourself past what your sound mind told you was okay. Pushing you past your normal boundaries that kept you in the stagnant life you ached to be released from.

“I want you as well.”

It was as if you had opened the dam to a great reservoir, Taehyung was on you in seconds moving from around the counter to scoop you off the barstool and place you on your feet. He pushed his lips against your own, opening his mouth immediately, nothing chaste in his actions. You wrapped your hands around his neck and he cupped your ass bringing you closer to him before hoisting you up and placing you on the counter beside your glass.

His kisses did nothing to aid the strange metallic taste in your mouth, in fact, it made it stronger. Stronger in taste and stronger in the lightness that flew to your brain urging you to pull him closer, open your legs wider.

He pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth and you groaned into his mouth as his hands found purchase in the buttons of your blouse and began to hurriedly undo them. His fingers were deft and within a few short minutes you sat before him with only your bra above your pants and he pulled back to look at you.

“Is this what you want, y/n?” He asked, his lips swollen from kissing, his hair tousled in candlelight. “Are you sure you want to continue this journey?”

You weren’t sure what journey he was referring to but if it had to do with what you hoped he was about to do to you in the bedroom, you sure as hell were ready. It was Taehyung, for the short period of time you had known him, he liked to be dramatic so you brushed off the comment.

“Oh,” you said, pulling him towards you by the cloth of his loose silk shirt and reaching up to whisper into his ear. “I’m ready.”

Taehyung growled in response and gripped your hips, pulling you to the edge of the counter so you could feel him through his loose dress pants before slowly rolling into your clothed core. He was already so hard. “Then there’s one thing you need to learn about me,” he whispered, ghosting his lips over the crest of your ear, one hand snaking up your body to palm your breast through your bra as he subtly thrusted into you. Your head tilted back, a soft groan escaping your lips. You had never felt this way with a partner before. With Taehyung all your sexual senses seemed heightened somehow. “I take what I want.”

He scooped you off the counter, careful to avoid contact with the candles, as he walked you both to the doorway on the far end of the apartment, what you had earlier assumed to be his bedroom.

It was like you were walking in a dream, somehow a thick mist had descended onto either the apartment or your mind, casting the collection of strange objects back into a heavy darkness as Taehyung carried you to the room, his lips never leaving some part of your exposed body.

His bedroom was massive. Dark velvet curtains draped the walls, candles once again covered the walls and bedside surfaces although you had no recollection of Taehyung lighting them earlier. His bed was in the center of the room, a massive dark wooden four poster with an extravagant  comforter. Taehyung kicked the door shut behind you both before throwing you onto the bed. The curtains surrounding the bedroom blended into the navy walls, creating a sense of comfortable warmness that seemed to soak up what limited lighting there was in the room.

You turned your head, eager to absorb as much of the space as you could and your eyes caught the glint of a group of knives on the bedside table. Fascinated, you rolled onto your side, reaching for them. There were five in all, varying shapes and sizes but overall petite little things. One caught your eye, it was about the length of your hand and had six simple deep blue sapphires embedded in the handle. You ran your fingers over the blade gently, intrigued.  

Taehyung followed your gaze as he crawled onto the bed behind you, the silk of his shirt felt cool against your skin as he spooned you from behind, nipping softly at the pulse point on your neck, clearly eager to continue what you had started in the kitchen. “I collect them,” he murmured against your skin and you struggled to push down your fascination with the blade before turning in his arms to face him.

“Of course you do,” you whispered. It seemed completely in character.

“Things like that capture my eye,”  he ran a finger down your throat. “Beautiful,”  his finger dipped lower to the valley between  your breasts before tracing down your torso until it rested on the button of your pants “but deadly little things.” Searching your eyes for any retaliation, he paused.

When you smiled at him, a slow lazy smile that you knew would drive him crazy, he slowly untangled himself from you to work on pulling off your pants.

Released from your leg confines, Taehyung pulled his shirt off over his head, revealing a broad expanse of toned stomach  before crawling back over you, dipping his head to catch your lips. You eagerly returned the kiss, wrapping your legs around his hips and he dipped his pelvis down, grinding his erection against your sensitive clit through the thin material of his pants and your panties. The wine was making your head spin, although you had only had a glass. You wanted him more with each breath. More than you had ever wanted your husband.

You groaned as he found the right amount of friction and he quickened his pace, roughly rubbing up into you with each thrust. You could feel how incredibly hard he was already and you arched up with each movement, meeting his thrusts but eager for more. Much more.  

“You like that, little darling,” he whispered harshly into your ear, his voice raspy and a little out of breath. “You like that you can feel how hard and ready I am from just tasting your lips?”

You responded with your body, chasing a high that only he could give you and he began to end each thrust with a deep roll of his hips. He had to know how he was affecting you, like some \ sex starved teenager dry humping in the back of your dad’s pickup truck. You had never acted like this before, but the way he ground into your clit with each thrust heightened your arousal. You were sure by now, that you were soaking.

Entangling your fingers in his dark hair you pulled slightly as Taehyung began to plaster your neck and torso in large open mouthed kisses, murmuring dirty words and planned actions as he took in every crevice of your exposed body, a hand finding purchase in your clothed breast once again and massaging it in tempo with his thrusts. When he latched onto your pulse point with his full lips, you pulled a little too hard on his hair earning yourself a harsh bite from Taehyung.

“Ouch!” You exclaimed, breaking the embrace, shock written purely on your features as your hand flew to your neck and returned, fingers stained crimson.

You hadn’t realized you were bleeding.

“Sorry,” Taehyung murmured, pulling you back to him, his lips returning to envelop the wound, his tongue swirling around the puncture marks and your stomach rolled in pleasure forgetting the strange occurrence from moments before. What is wrong with me? “I’ll be more careful.”

Finishing his apology on your neck he leaned back, balancing himself on his elbow over you, bringing your bloodstained fingers up to his lips. His hooded eyes, dark with desire, never leaving yours as he took your fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the blood, sucking it off.  Heat pooled in your core as you watched him, something incredibly carnal and erotic in his gaze, like he couldn’t wait to consume you whole. He finished with a loud pop and you felt something in you snap.

You didn’t know what came over you but before you even fully realized what you were doing you twisted in the bed, reaching for the pretty little sapphire knife on the bedside table. Grasping it by the handle you pulled it from the magnetic strip attaching it to the holder and turned back to face Taehyung.  He hovered over you, watching intently as you grabbed one of his hands and slipped the blade into it. He seemed neither surprised or turned off by your actions as you brought the blade to rest against your throat, he merely raised an eyebrow like he was interested to see how far you would go.

“Why don’t you show me what you can do with these pretty little knives?” You whispered, the blade cool against your throat. “They’re on your bedside table for a reason.”

There was no point in denying it and Taehyung knew it, his gaze darkening, a sly close lipped smile making his features seem almost sinister. When he spoke, it was almost like his voice had dropped an octave, a deep rumbling that sent shivers up your spine.

“Do you trust me, y/n?”

“I wouldn’t give you the knife if I didn’t, Taehyung”

His entire demeanor shifted. He was a commanding presence before, treating you roughly but still like you might break. Holding the knife in his hand seemed to open a new layer of Taehyung that made you realize just how little you knew about him. He twisted the blade in his hand, dragging the tip along your jawline.

“Then why don’t you remove that pretty little bra of yours, darling?” He demanded, his voice low and menacing. “Before I cut it off.” You were ashamed at how turned on it made you as you arched your back up and maneuvered your hands behind you to unclasp the back. Once you had slipped the straps off your shoulder, Taehyung took control clearly impatient with how slowly you were moving to tease him. He grabbed the bra, flicking it off the bed in a period of seconds before leaning down to kiss each of your breasts, paying special attention to each nipple, knife momentarily forgotten.

Your back arched into the mattress but the kiss of the knife against your throat stopped you from moving more. Taehyung stopped his work on your breasts and peered up at you from under long bangs.

“Did I tell you you could move?” He dragged the knife’s tip down the column of your throat, slowly making his way between your breasts and stopping by your naval. “Don’t forget who’s in control here, darling. God forbid,” he circled the knife around your belly button before sitting back on your thighs looking down at you and bringing the knife to his ring finger. “You cut yourself.” He sliced the tip of his finger, not deep, but enough to draw blood.

You let out a small gasp and he smiled lowering himself back down to you, bringing the knife back up your torso, between your breasts, before lifting the bottom of your chin with it, his face inches from yours.

“Suck,” he commanded, holding out his cut finger. You were eager to oblige, bringing his finger past your lips, the wine once again making you bold. Bold enough that you didn’t process that the metallic taste was the same you had encountered earlier that evening. You sucked his finger like your life depending on it, swirling your tongue around the wound, watching his expression take on one of pure euphoria. He was losing control and so were you, but your descent into madness had begun hours ago.  

He tossed the knife onto the bedside table, not caring where it landed and roughly pulled his hand out of your mouth. His actions were frantic now and he used the bleeding hand to hold your torso down as his other made quick work of your panties. Gone was the calm and collected Taehyung who had you completely under his control mere minutes ago. Here was the Taehyung acting only on impulsive desires. Your body reveled in this realization.

Before you could process it, his mouth found purchase on your clit and you couldn’t stop the breathy exclamation of his name as the hand on  your torso moved to grasp a breast. He was still bleeding, albeit slowly, and you could see the trails of smeared blood drying on  your skin wherever he touched you, marking you as his.

You were lost in the moment, his tongue circling and flicking your clit with the occasional suck of his lips. His other hand was parting your folds as he slowly slid one, then two fingers inside you.

“God, you’re soaked,” his voice throaty. “All for me, I get you first.”

You were too caught up in your own pleasure to correct him. You weren’t a virgin, this wasn’t your first time. Although this was the first time anyone had made you feel like this.

You looked down at him, you could feel his teeth scrape your clit lightly and you nearly screamed. “Taehyung, I need you inside me right now.”

You weren’t going to last much longer, and he knew it. He continued his onslaught, moving his fingers in and out of you in an increasingly rapid pace, his teeth scraping against your clit, harsher than before but you weren’t complaining. When you twisted in his grasp he let out a low growl that you felt vibrate along your inner thigh and you screamed out his name as you came.

Taehyung worked you through your climax, placing gentle kisses on your mound as he watched you become a soaking wet mess for him. When you were finished you looked down the length of your body at him, amazed that he made you feel like that with literally just his mouth and fingers.

He pulled his face back to look at yours, his face messy, his hair tousled but his fingers continuing to thrust in and out of you slowly as you came down from any remainder of his high. His appearance seemed different than before but you couldn’t quite place it.  Wait- his-  

You lurched back in surprise, breaking contact with Taehyung, who watched you with dark eyes. His teeth! Taehyung smiled a slow, boxy grin and you focused on his canines. Once average, the incisors had elongated, into twin fangs. Sensing your unease he released you, his mouth quickly closing. He cocked his head at you, an inhuman action.

“What’s wrong?”

“Y-your teeth,” you blurted, sitting up and reaching out to cup his face so he couldn’t turn away. “They looked like. . . . “ You pulled him closer, ignoring his surprised look as you used a finger to lift his upper lip. No fangs. You dropped your hand.

“I think you’ve had too much wine,” he chuckled leaning forward to capture your lips with his own.

Am I losing my mind?

Taehyung’s hands found the buttons of his slacks and he pushed them down, kicking them off and over the edge of his bed. You were momentarily surprised that his pants were the last layer between you and the thing you wanted most but your lust filled mind figured that Taehyung was always hot and ready for the next time he would get something to fuck.

And right now, that very thing was you.

His cock wasn’t obscenely large but it did have a healthy curve to it as it flopped up to hit his stomach. You were practically drooling from where you lay on the bed, eager to get along with the process. Taehyung grinned down at you, taking himself in one hand and pumping slowly.

“Are you ready, little darling?” He murmured, his voice hoarse. “Are you going to let me fuck that tight,  little cunt of yours?”

You nodded, eagerly, and he sat back on his ankles so that he was kneeling in front of you. “Then come here and sit on master’s cock, alright?”

He didn’t have to ask you twice.

You got up and maneuvered yourself so that you were hovering over his hard cock. Taking it in one hand below you, you ran your fingers over the velvety surface, gently bending the tip and watching as his face contorted in pleasure and he took his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle a groan.

“Stop teasing or I’m taking over,” he threatened but it was empty. With one hand wrapped around his cock, you knew he wasn’t the one in control here. Gripping him at his base, you slowly lowered yourself onto him, head lolling back as you felt him fill you, inch by glorious inch. You took your time, making every minute count as he stretched you to the brim. When you bottomed out you both just sat there for a moment, satisfied with the feeling you gave one another.

“God dammit,” Taehyung whispered, encircling you in his arms so that you were flush against his chest. “You’re even better than I ever could have possibly imagined.”

He slowly began to roll his hips up into you and you lifted yourself off him in a steady rhythm until you had both established a rapid pace. He was breathing heavy into your ear as he picked up speed, letting out a series of earthy grunts as he fucked up into you, slamming into you with reckless abandon.

You could feel that he was still holding back and you balanced your hands on his chest as you rolled into tempo with him. From  this position you were slightly above him and you met his eyes as he looked up at you from beneath dark bangs, his pupils nearly completely dilated and his beautiful lips parted, panting with exertion.

You could die happy right now, filled to the brim with this exquisite man.

When you began to slow down, grinding your hips into his with each thrust to ensure he could strike you deeper and longer he groaned out a breathy “F-Fuuck” and moved his hands down to grip you by the hips.

Before you could react he shoved you back onto the bed, never pulling out, and began to slam into you, scooting you further up the bed with each thrust until your head connected with the pillows at the headboard.

“Heaven-” he grunted, enunciating the word with a harsh thrust and you wrapped your legs around his hips, bracing your arms behind you to keep your head from slamming into the mahogany headboard.

“Be-” He thrusted again, his eyes piercing down at you, his face flushed with exertion.

“Damned! You have no idea how amazing you feel.”

You tried to raise your hips to meet him but his pace was too brutal. Fucking Taehyung was unlike any other sex you had had before. He was insatiable. The feeling of his cock buried deep inside your pussy drove you to pleasures you hadn’t known existed. The tiny sounds he made as he thrusted into you drew responses from you as your back arched up into him.

You could feel him everywhere. Again, maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the desire you had forced down deep inside you for years. But with Taehyung you weren’t just chasing sexual release, although that was part of it. You were chasing a release from a life you had grown to hate. You were giving into your feelings and what you wanted and it felt so damn good.

Taehyung lowered himself closer to you, wrapping his arms up around your back to find purchase in your hair and he tugged a little bit as if he was trying to find a solid grip while he slammed his cock into your pussy sloppily. His pace slowed and he began to roll his hips into  you and grind down, emitting a series of low rumbles that had you preening.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you ran your nails down his back trying to find purchase. You did finally, on two feathery appendages that had sprouted from his back.You ran your fingers over what felt to be feathered muscle and Taehyung lowered his mouth to your ear. “That’s right darling, let your master fuck you.”

Wait, feathers?

You released the appendages and your eyes flew open to find Taehyung’s piercing into yours but when you tilted your head to look- nothing was there.

I really am losing it.

Taehyung didn’t seem to notice and he dipped his head down to capture your lips in large open mouthed kisses, his tongue teasing yours as he tightened his grip on his hair, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

It was like you were trying to consume one another, you couldn’t get any closer  but goddammit if you weren’t going to try. Taehyung was finally losing control. You could see it in his eyes, feel it in his body as he murmured dirty things on your lips, in your ears.

He had resumed pounding into you, using your body to chase his release and  you welcomed it, tightening your walls to urge him deeper, to throw him over the edge. It was working and his words turned into animalistic grunts as he slammed into you again and again.

When he finally began to sputter out of control he bottomed out once again, pushing himself as far as he could go before spilling himself into you with a loud “Fuck”. His body responded in such, continuing to gently roll into you as he came, lowering his sticky forehead to your own.

After he was finished he rolled off the top of you, slowly pulling out with a sickening pop and you felt the loss of him deep in your core. He rested his head on his hands, peering up at where you lay propped on the pillows he had fucked you into from beneath those dark eyelashes before taking a hand and gripping your chin gently to make you look at him. He lifted himself up and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, a slow smile making it’s way over his features.

“Just wait till they get a load of you, darling.”

[romantic-barnes]

unintended | part four

| part four - don’t waste your time or time will waste you |

Pairings: king!bucky x reader | king!steve x twin!sister

Summary: The moment you have come of age, you are being ripped out of the place you call home and into the kingdom of Cydonia ruled by King James, your betrothed. Neither of you pleased with the situation, neither of you being honest. Between fights, snarky remarks and glaring, do you find time to breathe? Is it possible to reconcile or even love one another?

Warnings: slow burn, inaccuracies in term of royal affairs and such, 

A/N: i am so so sorry for the delay, but this is pretty long so I hope that makes it ok. this is my entry for @sillyqt​​​​ 1k writing challenge!! hope you all enjoy!

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers​

A few days, that’s all you had until you would officially be the wife of King James and the Queen of Cydonia. There was a part of you that screamed and shouted at you for not enjoying your time unwed. For letting (as they call him) Bucky take your thoughts away from more important things. 

The only thing keeping you steady is the fact that your sister would be arriving for the wedding. Her and Steve will attend the ceremony and you can finally have your family together in one place again. 

As for today, Bucky has arranged a ride through the woods, but you were sure his mother set it up. 

An entourage of guards were riding behind you and Bucky, alongside Sam and Clint. It was the same route you rode through with Clint and you were excited to see the flower field again. 

The fresh air bit at your cheeks, leaves rustling above you. Bucky was chatting happily with Sam and Clint looked at you from the corner of his eyes. You knew that he wanted to talk about the ball, about what happened. You were confused. 

The trees thinned before you and the flowers peaked through, flowers of every colour. Your chest fell and you breathed through your nose. The scent filling your senses. As soon as you rose through the tall field, sun falling from the sky, slowly, a smile spread across your face. 

Bucky came to a stop and a blanket was laid out. You sat next to Clint, reaching forward to pick some flowers and bind them together. 

Bucky sat looking at you, sun shining orange and yellow across your figure. You looked peaceful. Flowers laid out before you, eyes fixated on your hands as they connected the different flowers together in your delicate fingers. 

You smiled as you finished the flower crown, but instead of putting it atop your head, you turned to Clint placing the flowers on top of his hair. Clint laughed striking poses with the crown making you laugh. You missed it but Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. 

You and the others mounted your horses again, taking the cobbled path back to the palace. You were sure that you could never get tired of the sunsets here in Cydonia. For some reason thy are even better than at home. 

As the little house came to view a smile broke out on your face, seeing the family out on the front. You saw the girl from a few days ago sitting on the grass. You got off your horse walking towards the house. 

You greeted the family, two boys standing off to a distance shyly and with their mouths agape. You were sure that this didn’t happen often, seeing the King so casually riding by. You dismounted your horse, walking up to the little girl. Her smile was unmatched from the first time you’d seen her, the admiration warming your heart. 

“When I grow up I want to be a princess!” The little girl exclaimed with excitement. 

You smiled, but within you, you were glad that she wasn’t. 

You sunk down to your knees, turning the girl around by her shoulders. “You see that?” You pointed to the line of trees cutting the sky, orange and red painting the blue. She nodded her head. “That’s the horizon. Do you know what’s beyond it?” The little girl shook her head ‘no’ and you giggled. “It is your duty to find that out. To ride to the horizons of the world, sail the sea where the sky meets the water, to leave no part undiscovered and to learn what has not yet been learned and protect what needs protecting. To welcome everyone to follow you on your quest who wishes to, and lead them with care and love.” 

You turned the girl to face you, tears welling up in your eyes. You ushered to Clint to hand you the flower crown, holding it above her head. “I hereby announce you the princess of the horizon. May you choose your path and widen your horizon.” With that you lowered the flower crown on her head, cheers erupting around you and you bit back the tears threatening to fall. If you could not do it yourself, then you would inspire someone else to do it. 

Bucky watched with adoration. He was sure of it, the fact that you tried to give the girl what you don’t have. The freedom to run to the edge of the world with no one chasing after you. To chose your path amongst many and never slow down. Without the heaviness of the crown crushing your weight. Bucky realized that maybe, just maybe you weren’t so different from him, that your dreams sync up in a way. 

But there was the tiny problem that you felt nothing for him, you’ve made that very clear Bucky thought.

You rose from your knees, walking to your horse. A tear escaped from yur eyes, but you were quick to catch it. A look back on the family and you saw the girl swirling, a big smile on her face.

Soon. Soon you’ll have Julia to confine in. 

While you were wrapped up in preparations for the wedding, Bucky was struggling to wrap his mind around the different sides you’ve shown him. He was trying to puzzle together the pieces to get a clear picture of the woman he’d be married to by tomorrow. The one who he’ll build a family with. 

Bucky asked himself if that would be possible though. For the past days he’d had this strange feeling every time he’d seen you. The was you walk, talk or laugh with your family. The way you behaved when you’re parents were around was something he’d not seen ever since you arrived. 

He walked through the corridors, his shoes echoing through the space. Servants carrying candles and golden candle sticks for the wedding. He roamed these halls like every other day. Bucky wasn’t nervous when he became King. His father ensured that he was well prepared for the day he would take on the throne.

Bucky reached the oak wood doors of his mother’s chambers. As soon as he stepped into the room, his mother embraced him in a hug, her face bright and glowing. There aren’t a lot of times where Winnifred, the Queen mother, looked this gradient. It was said she had the same expression when Bucky was born, her wedding and Bucky’s coronation. 

“My Bucky, I’m so proud of you.” Winnifred beamed with excitement. “I’ve been waiting for this day for, oh god, way too long.” She cupped his cheeks with her gloved hands.

“I know, mother.” Bucky smiled weakly, his mothers face falling. She took his hands and guided him to the velvet sofa. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Bucky exhaled, scrambling his brain for the right words to say. “Why did you chose Y/n?”

Winnifred stared at Bucky, eyebrows furrowed together. “She’s perfect, that’s why.” 

“I don’t understand.” Bucky tilted his head, rubbing circles on the back of her hands to soothe her. 

Her face relaxed. “On my search of a suitable wife and Queen, I met a lot of princesses. A lot of them from finer families than you could imagine, ones with more wealth than the last, education from the most knowledgeable men, princesses who have been trained to perfection. I even considered her sister Julia.” 

Bucky’s lips parted. The thought of marrying your sister was odd. 

“But when I spoke to their father, I knew that Y/n was the only choice for you. Sure, they’re not the finest family, or the richest, but Y/n loves to travel just like you. The people love her because of her nature, the way she presents herself. Her knowledge expands beyond textbooks, she lives with a sort of freedom that reminded me a lot of you, dear.” His mother caressed his cheek. 

Bucky was running her words in his head again and again. If only he wasn’t such an asshole the fist time he met her, maybe she would’ve fallen in love with him. His mother had all the right reasons to chose you and his big head got in the way. 

“Mother, I made a big mistake.”

Your brain was going a mile per hour. Between trying the dress on and deciding what jewellery to chose, you barely got the chance to breathe. You were so wrapped up in your head, you didn’t even notice your mother walking through the door. With your head hanging low to look at the different necklaces, you examined every stone, getting lost in the different colours of the rainbows. 

“You look beautiful, darling.” Pepper spoke quietly behind you and you looked over your shoulder. Pepper held her hands over her chest, glossy eyed. 

You wrapped your arms around her, afraid that she might disappear. “Thank you.” You drew back, Pepper’s eyes roaming the dress until her eyes met yours again. 

“I’m so glad you’re happy. You are, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, yes I am.” You said, but you weren’t sure if it was for your reassurance or hers. 

“Good, because I brought a special guest for you.” 

You heard the door to your chambers close and as soon as you saw the figure moving towards you, you knew it was Julia. 

You let go of our mother, throwing yourself in Julia’s arms. Immediately the forset stared running and your cheeks were wet from tears. You never thought you could miss a person this much. Feeling Julia’s body pressed to yours, the scent of her flowery perfume and the satin of her dress brought a sort of comfort to you like nothing else. 

With a shaky sob you pulled apart, taking a good look at your twin. Her hair nicely pinned up, a gold crown sitting atop her head and she already looked like the Queen she would soon be. 

“Y/n, you have to idea how much I’ve missed you.” Julia spoke, with teary eyes. 

“I’ve missed you more.” 

Your mother’s cough interrupted your sweet sisterly moment and you followed her eyes to the person standing at the door. 

Steve, the King of Thaumasia, smiling brightly at the two of you, but you were suddenly afraid you had disrespected him by not addressing him first. You lowered yourself in a deep curtsy. “King Steve, I apologise.” 

“Princess Y/n, no apology needed, I know you were just as eager to see Julia as she was to see you.” He kissed the back of your hand and upon further inspection, you noticed that he was just as handsome as in the portrait, but he could not compare to Bucky. Wait what? “I heard there will be an archery competition later today?”

Your face lit up as soon as the words left Steve’s mouth. “Yes! I will be participating, of course.” Your smile reached your ears at the thought of it. It is tradition in Cydonia to hold a competition in archery. The winner will choose who will be given the title ‘woman of orchids’. In Cydonia it is a great honour to be chosen, as she will represent the love and fertility of the King and Queen. 

“No one will stand a chance!” Julia chimed in, making Steve laugh loudly. 

“I look forward to it. Now if you excuse me, I’ll see what Bucky’s been up to.” Steve bowed again before taking his leave. 

You changed into a ruby coloured dress made by Natasha’s request and you could tell just by the heaviness that shooting for a target will be a disadvantage for you. The pearls around your neck are a nice addition to the deep red, but not exactly something you would pick for archery. 

“Nat, do you think I could wear something less extravagant?” You turned on the spot to look at Natasha.

“No, absolutely not! You look fantastic in this dress and I can’t stand seeing you walk around in those striped dresses any longer.” Nat scrunched her nose, waving her hand in front of her face.

“But I know for a fact that I won’t be able to shoot arrows with this on.” You pointed to the skirt of the dress.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Shoot arrows? You know you won’t participate, do you?”

Your mouth opened and closed. You knew things were different in different kingdoms, but everyone was allowed to participate in tornaments. “Oh, ok.”

You walked off next to Natasha and Clint to the courtyard. From the distance you could see the masses and Bucky, Julia, Winnifred and your parents to the side. You were just as dolled up as they are, but that would stop you from trying to enter. 

As you greeted everyone, you sat next to Bucky on the raised platform on cushioned chairs, overlooking the lawn where ten targets were stood a few feet away. All the participants stood on their designated places, getting ready. Your leg was shaking in anticipation and you glanced over to Clint who stood off to the side. The guests from all kinds of backgrounds stood behind the participates, waiting eagerly with their champagne flutes. 

There was just one question in your mind and when you turned to Bucky you blurted it right out. “Can I participate, too?” 

Bucky was taken aback by your question, but one look to you and he knew that he couldn’t refuse. He could say to just to annoy her, but Bucky knew that that would be counterproductive to his plan, so without hesitation he ordered one of the participants to step down from the competition and gestured for you to take his place. 

He watched as you descended the stairs, walking passt all the men staring at you as if they’ve never seen a woman before. It was amusing to Bucky, seeing you walking so confidently and he enjoyed it. Bucky leaned forward watching as you took the bow in your hands as the tournament started. 

As soon as the first few arrows flew towards their targets, you knew nobody else stood a chance. Every round after that you proved to the men next to you that you were the best, hitting bullseye every time no matter how far away it was. With the last bow fired, cutting through the air, you knew you had won, but the faces of the guests were still priceless. 

“Congratulations to Princess Y/n!” The words left Sam’s mouth and you turned to look at Bucky, your face hurting from the extensive smiling, but you still lowered yourself to curtsy. Sam came forward handing you a flower crown made of different colours and plants. “You may chose you woman of orchids.”

With a few strides you reached the wooden platform, standing in front of Julia. “I hereby chose you, Princess Julia, to be my woman of orchids.” You lowered the flowers on her head. Julia jumped up, hugging you while the people around you erupted in cheers. 

From the corner of your eye you saw Bucky standing, clapping, with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. You untangled your arms from around your sister and turned to Bucky. Maybe it was his smile, the proud look on his face, or the feeling of victory, but the urge to kiss that smile off his face was unnerving. Your heart hammered in your chest, taking a step forward. Without thinking much, you got on your tiptoes, placing a gentle and light kiss on his cheek. The look on Bucky’s face was worth the heat crawling up your cheeks as he blinked frantically. 

Bucky slowly took the crown from his head, placing it on the cushion with distance in his eyes. Maybe you didn’t resent him as much as he thought. Maybe in the middle of all this you saw what he saw, a partner. Bucky couldn’t make a lot of sense of your sudden affection towards him since you’ve been fairly distant since the ball. Maybe it’s all a show.

A knock on his door pulled him out of the trance like stante and as soon as he saw Steve, relieve washed over him. “Steve, good to see you.”

“Yeah, I feel like now more than ever we have less time for each other.” Steve laughed as he hugged Bucky. 

“especially since both of us are getting married.” Bucky poured wine in two goblets, offering Steve one.

“Tomorrow is you big day!” Steve beamed as he sat down on one of the velvet chairs opposite Bucky. 

Bucky sighted, turning to look at a portrait of his father. “I just with my bride would be excited too.”

“What do you mean?” Steve scrunched his face. “She seemed pretty happy by your side to me.”

“Well, the thing is we had some... issues.” Bucky looked at his friend, finding nothing but confusion, so he explained everything from the start.

“Bucky, I know you’ve had some issues in the past and with your fathers passing ruling became your number one priority, but you have to understand that it’s not her fault. She has to face the same fate as you.”

Bucky looked down in shame, taking a big swig of wine. “I know. I talked to my mother.”

“That’s not enough.” Steve interrupted him. “You have to talk to Y/n, too. Explain the situation and confess your affection. You have affection for her, do you?” Steve grinned.

“I do, yes. But I’m afraid she doesn’t.

“The only way to find that out is by talking to her. Go to her tomorrow first thing in the morning and clear the air.” 

Bucky smiled weakly. “Ok, I will.”

It wasn’t like Bucky was afraid to talk to you, he was afraid of what you would say. The feelings that have manifested were scary to him and to have his heart broken by the one he will marry would only mean unhappiness. And Bucky wasn’t ready to have his heart broken again.

[ next ]

[gyuutahoe]

The Pen and Sword - Part 3

Summary: Newly recruited to the Demon Slayer Corps, you finally meet your designated swordsmith. He may be as much of a misanthrope as others had warned, but you were nothing if not determined to bring him out of his shell.

Warnings: None

a/n: female reader, eventual smut, penpals with the feral misanthrope, both reader and Haganezuka are seventeen at the start of the story, established backstory for reader.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Marketplaces were always your weakness.

The hypnotic, dizzying flux of city life was exhilarating, and you channeled that excitement into each step you took through the beautiful, colorful, noisy market of Osaka. Had it not been for the irascible young Pillar of Flame keeping you on track, you might have wandered off and lost yourself in kimono patterns and antique teacups. Your hands were itching for a needle and thread these days.

Rengoku’s grip on your sleeve was like a leash. It reminded you of your oldest brother, so stern and resolute. “Can you walk faster?” he grumbled, tugging you along. “You’re like a bird, getting distracted by shiny things.”

A retort was on the tip of your tongue, only … something shiny did catch your eye, a multitude of tinkling glass wind chimes dangling from wooden scaffolding and beckoning you closer with their paper ends, stretching out towards you like old friends as the wind rattled their clappers.

“Rengoku-san, will this market still be here after we find the demon?”

He looked at you as though you were a pesky child. “You win a few fights and you already think the world waits for you? We have another assignment after this.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” you lightly said, and the corner of your mouth quirked upward. “I thought I saw a pretty comb that Ruka might really like. It had a fox painted on it.” You blinked up at him. “Did you know that’s her favorite animal?”

Rengoku eyed you for a moment before turning away with a guarded expression. “Is it now …” he trailed off.

You smiled in victory and looked behind you, catching a fleeting glimpse of the wind chimes as your sword rested comfortably at your hip.

———————❖———————

Haganezuka was at a loss.

A package rested inconspicuously on his table as he knelt before it, examining it from all directions until curiosity finally won him over and urged him to pluck off the accompanying letter attached to the wrapping.

He did not request a shipment of supplies recently, and the box was far too small to be a customer’s blade. And when he saw your name written on the sealed letter, with penmanship far more beautiful than he had ever seen before, Haganezuka was still baffled. You said you would write to him, not send him anything. Were these the remnants of your sword? Did you stuff the broken pieces into a small box like some ungrateful heathen? The mere thought of it made his pulse race, and before he could calm himself, he was tearing the wrapping to shreds.

A wind chime.

His clawed hands paused immediately upon seeing the fragile glass, and his ire diffused instantly as he carefully brought it out to hold in his hands.

The glass had the barest hint of green tint pressed into it. Very different from his collection. Even the flowers were different, some sort of outrageous white shape he had never seen before. Haganezuka dangled the wind chime by its string to hear its sound - light, high-pitched, and quick. Not quite like the lower melody of his bells, but it pleased him all the same. It was a new sound to admire and focus on, with just the right amount of bite to its song to grab his attention. He played with the bell for a minute, swaying it to and fro as he listened. The sound did not calm him so much as it invigorated him. Like it had something important to say and demanded his audience.

He hadn’t received a gift so thoughtful in a long time. Why did you send him this?

The letter.

Haganezuka-san, I hope you do not mind me sending you a package so suddenly. I came across a marketplace where a glass blower sold handcrafted wind chimes, and I thought of you instantly. The flowers are sagisō. They mean ‘my thoughts will follow you into your dreams’. It is my way of hoping my good wishes reach you. Please accept this gift as thanks for your beautiful blade. It has served me well so far - I have slain three demons with ease. Take care of yourself.

———————❖———————

A few days passed before you received a response. Not that you expected one to begin with, so it was a lovely surprise to come back to after a long day of training with Kuwajima.

I received your wind chime and hung it at the door of my forge. Clean your blade daily. Don’t be lazy. Safe travels.

You imagined him hesitating at the last sentence, pen hovering over the paper as he thought of an adequate send-off. It made you giggle fondly as you hid your smile behind the letter, innocently ignoring the questioning glance of your mentor.

———————❖———————

The lingering chill of spring gave way to an undeniably relaxing summer breeze, prompting Haganezuka to wander out of his forge in search of a local villager’s food cart. He did not have the patience to cook for himself. Why waste precious time when he still needed to harden the edge of his clay-encrusted sword?

And that is how the postman found him, stuffing his face with a bowl of yakisoba while he walked back to work.

He glared at the cowering man and grabbed the proffered letter. Let’s see what jackass needs another replacement , he groused to himself as he tore it open, balancing the yakisoba in the crook of his arm.

Familiar handwriting. How could he forget this penmanship befitting of an aristocrat? It could only be you.

Haganezuka-san, I felt inspired to write to you once more. It relates to a mission I recently completed. A demon lured me into the forest in hopes of blinding me with darkness. But I had the company of the full moon to light my path, and by fortuitous chance, I happened upon a grassy clearing that was illuminated by fireflies!

Haganezuka pinched the edges of the paper so tightly that the veins in his fingers threatened to burst. If this was leading to a jibe about his name, he would make you pay.

I wanted to close my eyes and listen for the demon, as I always do, but for the first time I felt inclined to rely on my sight. The fireflies really captivated me. The weight of my blade kept me focused on the task at hand, but I could not help the sudden strike of realization that occured to me as I watched the fireflies. And that thought is as follows: could it be that you were named Hotaru because the bright sparks flying out from striking a heated blade reminded your father of fireflies? The idea made me smile. I sat and watched the fireflies for a while. There is much to learn from their movements. Anyway, I drew the forest when I had some time after the battle.

He blinked and stared at the sketch. Simple yet structured. Every pen stroke held an important detail. It was not a masterpiece, but it was lovely all the same.

Heated sparks … like fireflies …

Perhaps his given name was not so embarrassing after all.

———————❖———————

Hello again! What I am about to say may seem silly, but I always dreamed of seeing the ocean, and that day has finally arrived! I cannot begin to explain the terrifying vastness of the water. Have you ever seen the ocean? Did it exhilarate and humble you like it did to me? I dared to walk barefoot along the coastline, even though it felt like I could be pulled in at any moment. The water was very cold and the salty air turned my hair into brittle kelp, but the sand felt so soft between my toes. I listened to the waves for a long time while I meditated with my sword in my lap. Ocean waves look very similar to the hamon on my blade. As per usual, I drew the landscape for you in case you have not seen the ocean.

Haganezuka treated himself to some dango as he read your letter. Later on, he would still taste the saltiness of the dango on his tongue as he folded burning steel. While he lost himself in thought during the methodical process, the wind chime at his door brought forth the memory of your light laughter. Did you laugh this freely as the water lapped at your feet? Did you taste the salty air on your tongue? Haganezuka somehow felt like he was there with you.

———————❖———————

I heard an interesting saying - the pen is mightier than the sword. Perhaps that might not resonate with you, but I wonder what you think about this phase.

———————❖———————

For the first time since the start of your one-sided correspondence, Haganezuka wrote you an actual, full-length letter. Or rather, he sent you pages upon pages of nothing other than his thoughts on how the pen was not, in fact, mightier than the sword, and that he nearly used your letter to wrap his steel wafers for smelting because it angered him so.

- dumbass would believe that bullshit. Did words allow the Edo bakufu to secure power? No, it was blood and steel. If I could meet the moron who thought of that saying, I would shove that pen right up his -

“What’s making you laugh so hard?”

You tittered as Ruka sat down beside you. “My swordsmith.” You passed the letter to your curious friend. “He has such a way with words, don’t you think?”

Seconds into reading the letter, her neutral demeanor turned into one of mild bemusement. “What a thing to send to a young woman,” Ruka drawled, handing the letter back to you.

“Not so different from Rengoku-san, though.”

She smiled fondly. “No. Not at all.” With the grace of one who hides the sudden spark of an idea, Ruka motioned you to turn around. “Let me braid your hair. The summer heat must be strangling your poor neck right now.”

You dutifully complied. Soft, gentle fingers brushed through your hair, making your scalp tingle pleasantly.

Why don’t you ever let me style your beautiful hair? Mother keeps telling me how unattentive I am with you -

“ - to me very soon.”

“I - I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” You sucked in a quick breath. “I got distracted by that pesky cicada.”

“I said Shinjuro will propose to me very soon.” Ruka weaved a ribbon through your hair as she spoke. “Perhaps at the end of summer, so that we will have time to prepare for a winter ceremony.”

“That is wonderful!” you gasped. “To think, only three months ago he was still figuring out how to give you that fox comb. You know I walked in on him practicing that, right?”

Her melodic laugh was infectious. “And then he handed it to me as though he were a general barking a command at his soldier,” she reminisced, carefully moving the finished braid over your shoulder. “That blush was as fierce as the red in his hair.”

“He tries his best, doesn’t he?” you snickered, and upon feeling her soft touch lingering on your shoulder blade, your smile dulled a little.

“Does the wound still hurt?” Ruka asked. “With the humidity - “

“Please don’t worry,” you hastily replied, angling yourself to the side until the touch fell away. “It’s been months, Ruka. The wound is fully healed.” She cocked a brow at you, and you placed a hand over hers as you softened your voice. “Really. I’m alright.”

She eyed you silently. “ … if you say so.”

You offered a placating smile to seal the deal. “So, how did you find out about the inevitable proposal?”

“Between Shinjuro’s loud mouth and the gossip that goes on among the Demon Slayers, it was inevitable that the old women of the safehouses would hear about this.” She shook her head. “My own grandmother ruined the surprise.”

“At least you can look forward to how painfully awkward Rengoku-san will be when the time comes.”

Ruka scoffed. “I am always prepared to handle that silly man.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you giggled. “Your stern looks trip him up sometimes. So cruel!”

Not even your newly acquired lightning-fast reflexes could dodge Ruka’s smack upside your head.

———————❖———————

Warm greetings, Haganezuka-san. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I will be visiting your village in four days. Would you mind looking over my blade to make sure it is in proper condition?

———————❖———————

You can come.

[bqstqnbruin]

Give your heart a break

I did in fact scream about how much I hate and love the Bruins while in the middle of Kohl’s today, so there’s that. I also wore my Harvard hockey shirt again and another person asked me if I played for the team so next time someone asks I’m just saying yes.

This was requested ages ago (because y’all know I’m the worst when it comes to doing things in a timely manner), so I hope the anon who requested this likes it!

This was also inspired by Give Your Heart A Break by Demi Lovato!

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

You were on stage, loving the rush that every performance came with despite how tired you were. Now almost done with your second tour, you couldn’t believe this was your life. Your favorite song that you sang during this tour wasn’t even one of your own; Give Your Heart a Break was the only cover you performed. Every lyric seemed to mirror your relationship, despite being released before you were a teenager.

“Alright, we’re going to change things up a bit, and switch over to a song written by one of my favorite artists: Miss Demi Lovato. I hope you guys like it,” you say as the violin melody that provided the beat started to play, drawing out the sound of the crowd as you got lost in the song.

The day I first met you, you told me you’ll never fall in love. 

Singing the song takes you back to that night at the bar, out with your friends in your hometown. Your friend, Rebecca insisted you go out to this particular bar when she found out the Vancouver Canucks were going to be there seeing as she was slightly too obsessed with the group of men. You weren’t too invested the reason why you were going there, you just wanted to go out with your friends before leaving for what was going to be a way too long, three month tour around North America, your first one ever. 

“To Y/N and her tour!” Bex leads your friends toasting the first round, “let’s hope it’s successful so that when she comes back she can pay for our drinks!”

You roll your eyes, everyone agreeing as you sarcastically say, “Very funny.” They continue to banter, Bex with her eye on the hockey players sitting at the table across from yours. She was purposefully being loud enough for them to hear her say she knew someone going on tour, but that could mean a lot of things when you think about it. It was enough to catch the attention of some of them, causing them to look over and see what the commotion was about. But you weren’t too interested in anything. Leaving within the next week meant you had to focus on nothing besides your career. 

Your friends kept talking about how excited they were for you, but you weren’t paying attention. Only one of the guys at the other table had caught your eye: you weren’t sure if it was because he looked tired and like he didn’t really want to be there, sort of like you, or because of something else, but there was something that drew you to him. Apparently you caught his eye, too, since the two of you spent about five minutes doing what your friend would probably refer to as ‘eye fucking,’ even though you really hated that term. She would think that you were both mentally undressing each other, both of you fully aware of what was going on. 

You get up to get yourself another drink, praying that he would follow you to the bar. If he did, you would talk to him. But, no, you couldn’t start anything. Who the hell starts something and then leaves for three months? It’s not like you were the type of person who did a hookup, either, but who knows? No, wait. You were overthinking things, like normal. How the hell do you even know what he wants? You don’t unless he tells you. He had to follow you to the bar first. 

You order your drink, your back turned towards your friends and the Canucks. “Put it on my tab,” you hear from behind you as you’re about to hand the bartender your card. You turn around, seeing the tired boy standing behind you, trying to weasel his way next to you. “Quinn,” he introduces himself, “I hope you don’t mind. If you don’t want it I’ll just drink it and have you pay for another one.” 

You laugh at how nervous he sounds, introducing yourself and telling him it was fine that he was buying the drink for you. “My friends said next time I’m home, drinks are on me, so might as well save up while I can.” 

“You have that tour coming up, right?” he asks, you shocked that he would even know that before remembering how loud Bex was. Hockey players didn’t strike you as the type of guys to listen to your music, but then again, you remember Rebecca saying this team was watching Gossip Girl together, so anything was possible. “Sorry, I kinda listen to your music. What’s it called, the By the Book Tour?” 

You groan at hearing someone say the name out loud. “I really actually love that you listen to my music but it is so important to me that you know I did not come up with that name.” 

He laughs, starting a conversation about your music, his hockey, everything else in between. The conversation somehow managed to get really deep really fast. “Wait, but you have all those songs about being in love and the perfect guy and all that stuff.”

“Well, yeah, since I’m still new in the industry I have to write what sells and ‘build a fan base’ as my manager says before I can start writing what I really feel,” you say, rolling your eyes, “And I think I was in love and falling out of love when I wrote those songs, but I don’t know what real love is. You don’t know what it is until you actually experience it.” 

“So you don’t think you’ve been in love before?” he asks.

“No. Have you?”

He stops for a minute, trying to think before shaking his head, “Nope. I don’t think I ever will be.”

You look at him, shocked that he would even admit something like that to someone he just met. “Really? Never? You don’t think there’s someone out there for you that you could fall in love with?”

“Nah. Who’s got the time? I mean, traveling for most of the year for hockey? How can I? You’ve got to understand: you’re about to be traveling for three straight months and then who knows what comes next. How can you even find time for love?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, thinking about it seriously for the first time, “I think that,” you pause, trying to find the words, “I think that everyone is destined for love, regardless of how they get there. People who don’t want it might just be afraid of the pain that would come with losing it.” 

He looks at you, eyebrows raised, not like he’s shocked but impressed, instead. “I can tell you write your own songs,” he takes a long sip of his drink, finishing off the glass, “That was pretty poetic.” 

----------

You look out at the crowd, knowing exactly where they were sitting. He had the biggest smile on his face, the other guys, surprisingly, looking like they were enjoying themselves, too. 

Now here we are, so close, yet so far. Haven’t I passed the test? When will you realize: baby, I’m not like the rest?

After a month on tour, one of your shows happened to be in the same town that the Canucks were playing that night, so Quinn had suggested you meet up after your show and his game for drinks. It seemed that a lot of your upcoming tour dates and his away games matched up, some sort of weird but welcome coincidence. 

“Hey, Quinn!” you say as soon as you see him, practically jumping up from the table where you were waiting for him. You two had been talking nonstop since the night you met, but his words always haunted you, changing the flutter in your heart when his name popped up to absolute heartbreak: he doesn’t think he’ll ever be in love. Especially when you were sure you were falling in love with him. 

“Hey, how was the show?” he says, wrapping you in a tight hug. Even after just playing a game, he smelt so good.

“It was fine, not one of my best, but hey, the fans seemed to love it. As long as they’re happy, I’m happy,” you say. The trust was, you were already exhausted. Before every show, it seemed like, you were doing nonstop conferences, photoshoots, other promos like meet and greets, having your manager talk to you about your set list as if it weren’t the same each night, rehearsal, sound checks, costume, wardrobe, and so much more. You weren’t sure you had more than five hours of sleep in the last three days. You weren’t exactly sure how you were going to keep up. 

“You’re exhausted already?” he asks, as if he were reading your mind. You look at him, confused how he could have known that. “Even under the makeup you’re still wearing from tonight, I can see the bags under your eyes. Look, they’re the same as mine,” he says, laughing, pointing to his eyes. 

“I just, I knew it was going to be hard, but wow, I never thought it would be like this,” you admit, laughing at how that sounds. Something worth it is never easy, so why should this be any different. 

“But you love it, so who cares?” he asks.

“Very true.” The two of you sit there in silence for a moment, surprised it wasn’t as awkward as you expected it to be. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“Are you afraid of love?” you ask, bluntly. But after that night you met, you had to know. It had been swirling around in your head the time. The more you talked to him, the more you swear you could see yourself falling in love with him if you could spend time with him, like you were right now, but was it worth falling in love with someone who didn’t love you back? 

He looks slightly shocked at the question, but you could tell it was something he had thought about before. “Well, I wouldn’t say afraid. I just don’t think right now it’s worth it. I mean, before I moved to Vancouver, girls would say they liked me because they thought I was going to be a professional athlete. So I would end up falling for them, then when I wasn’t in the NHL fast enough for their liking, they would dump me, and I’d be left just, standing there,” he says, not making eye contact with you. You can see his face getting red, obviously getting a little upset but trying to hold it in. “I mean, I don’t have time, you’re the only girl I talk to at this point who isn’t dating one of the other guys and isn’t my mom.” 

You don’t know why, but hearing that from him made you want to cry. Unable to look at him, you bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from doing that, pushing the food on your plate around with your fork. You were right there, constantly flirting with each other while you were on the phone, anytime Quinn was with the guys you could hear them teasing him about how excited he got when your name popped up on his phone, or when your songs came on the radio. Your band knew that when you were alone, you were probably talking to Quinn, getting to the point where they had some sort of code word to talk about you and him. 

You thought he liked you. You were so close to getting him, and you thought that’s what he wanted. If he asked you out on a real date right then, not just two friends getting together, you would say yes with no hesitation. When is he going to understand that you aren’t those girls from his home who would dump him when he wasn’t doing what you wanted him to with hockey? Who does something like that anyway? 

-------

You felt like you were staring at him the entire time you were singing, knowing that he couldn’t take his eyes off you either. 

On Sunday you went home alone, there were tears in your eyes. I call your cell phone, my love, but you did not reply.

Another night on tour, another night where your schedule lined up with the Canucks away games. You had no idea where you were at this point, you just knew you were exhausted, leaving in the morning for the next city and planning on sleeping on the bus the entire time, praying there was no reason for anyone to bother you when you arrived in the next city Sunday night. After the show, Quinn had invited you out again, the guys celebrating some big win that you didn’t know the significance of. You really didn’t care that much, especially since it was something that made him happy, so you went along and met him anyway, despite the fact that your veins had more coffee and energy drinks coursing through them than they did actual blood. You were getting there after the guys were, trying to find their table. The bar was crowded enough as it was, trying to find them taking way too long.

“Where’s that singer girl?” one of them asked. You still didn’t know his teammates well enough by name to know who said it, all you could tell was that he was blonde.

“She should be on here by now,” Quinn says, checking his phone to see if you had sent him anything. He had no idea you were a few feet away.

“Look at Huggy bear, already whipped by a girl he won’t close on,” another one teases.

“Ok, first of all, I am not whipped. She’s my friend. Second off, we will not talk about her like that, regardless of if she’s coming here right now or not,” you hear Quinn trying to defend you, even though the boys kept teasing him about you. Whatever, part of your career was criticism, this was just part of it.

You finally make your way through the people to get to the table, Quinn’s eyes lighting up when he sees you. You had to admit, you melted a little seeing him, despite him just putting you in the friendzone, him not knowing that you heard that. But were you really ready to sit with his friends knowing that they were teasing him about you? 

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Quinn whispers into your ear, pulling you in for a hug and sending chills down your spine. 

“And miss seeing you again? Please, I’m always up for seeing a friend,” you say. You swear he flinched when you said friend, but he said it first in your defense. You could already tell this night was going to end badly somehow, and none of you wanted to find out how.

He leads you over to the table of guys, none of them seeming to notice that you and Quinn had returned. The entire night was pretty much spent with Quinn pretty much ignoring you and only paying attention to the guys. They acted like you weren’t even there.

“I’m going to go get another drink,” you say, annoyed at Quinn, motioning to the empty bottle sitting in front of you.

Quinn nods, getting up with you “I’ll come with you.” You feel his hand on the small of your back, leading you from behind through the crowd to the bar. You couldn’t help your heart beating faster at this touch, something so intimate even though it probably meant nothing to him. The two of you sit down, you obviously bothered by the way the night was going. “Hey, I’m sorry for the guys,” Quinn apologizes, studying your face, “Are you ok?”

“No,” you admit. “You’ve been ignoring me the entire night. What’s the matter with you?” 

He bites his lip, looking back and forth between you and the guys while he tries to figure out what to say. “The guys think I’m falling in love with you so they tease me about it.”

You stare at him for a moment. Could the guys be right? Could Quinn actually have the same feelings about you that you did for him? “Well are you?” you ask, knowing that it was the alcohol in your system.

“Am I what?”

“Are you falling in love with me?”

“No.”

“Oh,” is all you can let out, looking down at the drink the bartender had given you. You didn’t want to drink it. Honestly, you just wanted to throw it in his face and storm out. You couldn’t believe he was doing this to you. You look up at him, his face red, him not able to make eye contact with you. He was lying. You know he was.

“I can’t,” he says, his voice small and wavering like he was about to cry.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You can, too, fall in love, because you know what? I’m falling in love with you, and my schedule is just as busy as yours. So stop being afraid of letting people in because you don’t want to get hurt. All that does is hurt the people around you who are trying to care for you.” You sit there for a second, waiting for his response. When he doesn’t say anything, you get up and leave, before he can see you crying.

You take out your phone, trying to dial Bex as you make your way back to the hotel you were staying in. “Hey, babe, what’s up? It’s late.”

“I hate him,” you sob into your phone, knowing it wasn’t true. “He was so close to telling me he loved me, and he just looked at me and said he won’t.”

“Whoa, whoa, back up. What do you mean?” she says. You recount the night to her, Quinn not paying attention to you and then pretty much breaking your heart right there. “Ugh. what a bitch. He should be lucky to love you.”

You can’t help but smile, even though you were still upset about what had happened. You hear your phone beeping. Taking a look at the incoming call, you decline it, “He’s trying to call me.”

“Nope. Don’t answer.”

“Not gonna. Not for a while.” 

-------

You open your eyes, not even realizing that you had them closed. For a moment, it seemed like you were just singing to him, no one else around you even though you knew the venue was full.

When your lips are on my lips, and our hearts beat as one, but you slip out of my fingertips every time you run.

“So how does it feel knowing that this is the last night of your first full tour,” Bex says on the other end of the phone. The last night was in Vancouver, meaning that all of your friends who said goodbye to you three months ago finally got to see you again, and go out and celebrate with you again. 

“I’m so ready to sleep in my own bed, I’m fucking exhausted,” you tell her, sitting in the dressing room and looking at yourself in the mirror. You still had three more hours before you were supposed to take the stage, but you could already hear the audience going crazy. It felt so surreal, traveling around America and performing in front of thousands of people every night. You had never in your wildest dreams thought you would actually be doing this.

Your thoughts and reminiscing are interrupted by a knock on your door. “Hey, Bex. I gotta go, I’ll see you tonight? You have the passes ready to see me right after the show?”

“Yep, love ya, you’re gonna kill it. See ya,” she says, hanging up.

“Come in!” you call, not getting up from your seat. You were sure it was your manager, who always insisted that you stay in your seat instead of ‘tiring yourself and using energy to get the door.’ The door opens, seeing him in the reflection of your mirror. Practically jumping out of your chair, you run over to him, having not seen him since that night you left crying. “What are you doing here?”

The two of you had been talking again, but it took a while for you to be able to get comfortable with him again. Being told that someone refuses to fall in love with you is heartbreaking, especially when you were in love with them. But at this point, all you had to do was focus on the tour and repress your feelings, and you were doing pretty well until you saw him in your doorway.

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” Quinn says, his hands snaking their way around your waist. His lips crash to yours, you stunned by what was going on before relaxing into it. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging the soft strands when his grip tightens around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your mind went blank, still unable to process that he was actually here.

He finally pulls away, your foreheads resting against each other, both of you with smiles on your face. “I don’t understand?” you say. He said he couldn’t love you. You talked all the time about how you weren’t really the ‘hook-up types.’ So why did he just kiss you? Why was he here before your show?

“I’m sorry,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut, “I don’t want the pain of losing someone, so I close myself off. You are everything to me. I don’t think I let myself fall in love because I never found someone who I could see myself being with until I met you.”

“You’re not going to run away this time, are you?”

“No.”

Another knock at your door startles you before you can say or do anything else. Your manager pokes their head in, “We need you for the pre-show warm-ups?” they ask, as if you were able to say no. “Are you staying here or finding a seat?” they motion to Quinn.

“Finding a seat,” he says, running his hand through his hair. 

“I’ll see you after?” you say to him, giving him another quick kiss before running out to get ready for the final show of the tour.

-----

You finish the song, the crowd cheering. You find Quinn and the boys sitting in their seats. You go through the rest of the show, still not able to pry your eyes away from Quinn. The second you saw him sitting the crowd, you nearly started crying; he had said he wasn’t going to be able to see you on this tour because of his hockey season. So not only did he technically lie, he surprised you and took all the guys to see you perform, too. 

After the show, you can hear the guys coming back to see you through the closed door of your dressing room. Opening it before they can knock, you nearly knock Quinn over, jumping into his arms and kissing him right in front of the guys.

“Who woulda thought that Q here would have actually landed a girl?” Brock asks.

“Hey, it was bound to happen at some point, look at the child,” Jake adds, “Even if it was with someone who sings about love all the time,” he teases you.

“I make just as much money as you do and all you do is chase a small rubber thing over a slippery surface. At least I create music people listen to while most of your fans just yell at you to shoot the puck,” you shoot back, the guys laughing.

“Come on, give her a break,” Quinn finally adds, “I mean look at her, how could I not love her?” he asks, the guys groaning at how mushy he was as as you plant a kiss on his cheek. 

[quinn-tessence]

Nocturne for a Clown

Part 1

In this frightening, destabilizing global pandemic, we all seek comfort. I found mine in Arthur, and I know many of you did too. This community has given me so much, I cannot express my gratitude enough. So here's something I can give back. A Nocturne for our beloved Clown, who still inspires us to this day, and will probably never stop. 🤡🖤

Summary: you stumble into an intriguing neighbor, a tragic, beautiful party clown named Carnival with jade eyes and cocoa hair. His meekness around you gets under your skin enough to lead you unconsciously into his path by accident.

Length: 3.5k

Warnings: mentions of mental illness, alcohol use, nudity, playful flirting and light fluff. Pre smut intro, this is going places… 🤭🤡❤

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

You should have taken more bags, you could barely hold all these groceries as you opened the door to let yourself inside your block of flats. You greeted granny Mabel picking up her mail but swiftly turned your attention to the closing door of the elevator.

‘Wait, hold the lift, please!’

In your haste to catch the ride, a foot was lodged on the door, sliding it back open to let you in. Careful not to spill all the veggies on the floor, your attention fell onto the man sharing the ride with you only as he asked what floor you were going to.

‘5th please, thank you for holding the door'

‘Sure'

The lift shook in its slow ascent, your heart would have skipped a beat had it not been a part of your daily routine to feel that bump in your bones. His hair is really nice, the length and the curls around the edges. Hm. You couldn't help looking at him, he was all of your visual field after all, so you scrutinized, as you’d often do. He’d politely turned sideways, avoiding to keep his back to you, but you couldn't see his face clearly in the dim yellow light. He wasn't much taller than you, his complexion quite slim and fragile looking, his back slouched as if carrying the heaviest weight on his shoulders. Gotham made that easy, grey and gloomy by day even during good weather, a pile of construction and buildings with no defined identity, enough to fit all from the scourge to the wealthy.

‘This building's awful, isn't it?’ an uncharacteristic curiosity made you try out some small talk in the hopes you'd get a better glimpse.

You knew too few people in this building, and you were far from chatty in elevators with strangers. Usually. He looked so old fashioned wearing that shirt and the linen vest, but the ochre of his jacket heightened the cocoa brown of his hair, yellow light reflecting off the edges delicately. He was cute, in an oddly endearing sort of way. A pair of basil green eyes turned to your as he bit the bait, the sly grin cutting through his cheek a stark contradiction to everything else about him, the scar on his upper lip a peculiarity that only furthered your intrigue. There was a deep well of sadness in his eyes, overbearing, bone chilling. It prickled your skin as you noticed it, but the gaze under his eyelids was piercing. That unnerving feeling the striking contrast brought, you couldn't shake it off.

The joy ride on strings stopped just as your cheeks started to fluster. You bid him good night as you walked out, your awareness over your morning overuse of perfume now as acute as ever.

‘Hey!’ he shouted in a shy, husky voice as you stepped out.

You turned to him one last time to see him mimicking a gun shot to the head as a rather late comical attempt to reply to your earlier remark. Unconventional, yes, but not a sort of humor you didn't enjoy. The fact that you just couldn't make him out drew a puzzled smile on your face as the elevator door closed.

Hm. What was that? you wandered as you had one foot in stirring curiosity, the other guiding you to your door as if by reflex. You'd lived here for months already, yet you hadn't seen him before. He was quite handsome in an outlandish sort of way, you would not have let that go unnoticed had you seen him before.

Months had passed, yet you still had storing boxes around your living room. Your stay should have just been temporary, yet you'd started decorating it with your own sketches and it had suddenly become your home, your sanctuary, your oasis to recharge you after long days at the office close by. You'd stumbled into this place by accident while looking for a cozy place to stay, but you found no reason to leave it behind. Your own art gallery, with bright lights flooding the windows throughout the day that allowed you to paint during weekends without your eyes squinting, your safe space.

Not today though, your feet were sore and your arms hurt from carrying those groceries. All you wanted was a glass of white wine and an excessive bag of popcorn while you watched the Murray show, but you picked up Dostoyevsky to delve again into the question of the perfect murder while you waited. This book you could never grow tired of, and it rattled you to devour chapter after chapter, accompanying a tormented soul on a journey of falling into madness, its universe a silent revolt and escape from the reality of Gotham you'd craved deep down without ever voicing.

‘We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, that begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.' Hm. Go figure.

The deafening silence in the room would soon be filled by your own comments at the starting show, Murray’s humor making you roll your eyes at his lack of self awareness, quite versed he was in ridiculing one person or another. A comedy show, yes, but sometimes he would take it a bit too far even for your inappropriate taste in humor.

A few hours and half a bottle of wine later, the sweet taste of the wine still lingered on your lips, flooding your murky mind to a familiar place of solitary self indulgence. Not long after shutting your eyes, a recent memory took shape at the back of your eyelids, and you felt an irrational urge to trace a sketch of him. You were too tired to start drawing at this hour. Your fingers would be of much better use tracing those lines you were curious to feel off his own fingertips. You hadn't indulged yourself in a while, but the thought of this bewitching man flashing in the most vulgar parts of your mind soon changed that. Maybe you were blatantly objectifying your neighbor… but only a little… You'd been so busy with the new job, the long hours exhausting, the absence of a soul to keep you company a nuisance you'd learned to bury in piles of work. But the urges only amplified the more you'd stifle and ignore them, demanding to be satiated. So you gave into yourself, into him, into the sweet, intoxicating effect of your favorite wine, into the memory of the piercing green eyes that had you whimper in silence.

Something about him was out of place. You’d seen him from afar and he looked defenseless. But as you came closer, you could feel yourself swallow hard as you waited for his gaze to look to your direction. Odd, wasn't it? He hadn't said much, but the tension in the elevator had penetrated your bones to late night reminiscence. Something was not right about him, an 'I should be afraid, instead it turns me on' vibe to him had taken you right to the edge.

The next day you bumped into him after work at the corner store, he was buying cigarettes and a chocolate bar. With that level of nutrition, no wonder he was so feeble, yet there was something about him that had kept you up at night. You'd already developed a weakness for him, but that stifled your reaction instead of filling you with courage. He smiled shyly and walked out the door, his eyes counting his slouched steps. Shit. Next time.

One particular evening you noticed two blue diamonds peering meticulously through the store shelves, the greasepaint on the man's face rendering him almost unrecognizable lest for his unmistakable skinny complexion and beautiful cocoa hair. Your freight of clowns had shaped your life since childhood, yet that terror had somehow melted instantly at the sight of his jade eyes underneath the white blue makeup. He'd shied away as you noticed him, stealing a smile that got your feet walking into an opposite reaction, trying to hide your pleasant surprise at his creepy, endearing stares. You wondered if that was his job, it would be absurd to just walk around in a clown costume, stalking women. Not to mention, horrifying and nightmare inducing, as even you would have felt until a moment ago if it hadn't been him wearing the clown costume.

Fumbling around the store, shying behind the counters as you paid for your groceries, you couldn't resist glancing at him one more time. You'd missed your chance before and you regretted it. All it took was to reach for one item from the isle he was hiding in, even if you had no use for it. Startling him was the last of your intentions, so you mimicked his behavior peering at him through the shelves, perhaps that would open him up to you. As you both walked in the same direction towards the corridor, he stopped shy in his tracks, eyes now as big as the clown shoes on his feet, scanning the floors, anxiously facing the inevitable.

‘Hi there. I've seen you around, haven't I?'

You'd planned on being more casual in your approach, yet the tone of your voice evoked a warm intimacy built over nights of having him wander purposefully in the depths of your fantasies. The clown costume should have helped alienate that feeling, instead it only burned deeper. The youthful innocence draped across his face contrasted strikingly with the furrows in his forehead betraying his age. He couldn't be younger than 35 at least, yet the spark of his almond shaped eyes took 15 years off his complexion. He cleared his throat before being able to speak.

‘Hi! Yes, we met in the elevator last week. I didn't think you'd recognize me in my work outfit.’

‘I thought that was you. You could frighten ladies if you keep peering at them while wearing a clown costume, you know? Not a lot of good press on them in the past years’

A nervous chuckle escaped his throat, he couldn't have missed that connection himself but he seemed caught red handed.

‘Well I haven't even pulled my gun yet. I was waiting for the store to clear out a bit before I robbed the place and kidnapped you'

There was that dark humor, but damn him for making you smile like a teenager.

‘A clown with a gun and a plan, not at all frightening. You're funny! Pass me that pasta sauce, would you?’

He quickly reached for the item on his counter and reached over it to hand it to you. The gawkiness in his hasty moves was proof enough he wasn't used to being approached by women, you were sure his cheeks were as flaming red under the white makeup as the flower pinned to his colorful checkered blazer. You shook your head and pointed at the end of the counter, your feet moving in the direction where you wanted him. He followed shyly, dragging his oversized clown shoes.

As he handed you the item, you thanked him kindly and immediately put it back up on the shelf. His gaze fell to his feet again, surely flustered by the subtext of your action. Yet within a split of a second, his eyes pierced back at yours and you'd forgotten all words.

‘Why don't I walk you home instead? I'll keep the gun and kidnapping for another occasion. Let me help you with those' he reached for your groceries, his proximity to you feeding the fire. You gladly agreed and walked the couple blocks with him, curious of his day job and adoring the purr of his soothing voice, it tore you up every time you heard it falter. His suit and makeup should have kept you a mile away, yet he seemed to be the most welcome companion to comfort you through your biggest irrational fear. As you reached the apartment complex sooner than you'd wished, he stopped and let out a complicit chuckle.

‘I… seem to have forgotten to do my own groceries, I’ll have to go back now, somehow I got distracted…’

‘And I thought you were there just to kidnap me.’ You just couldn't help continuing his apropos, hoping deep down he'd actually do it. ‘Thank you for walking me home, that was sweet of you'

‘You're very welcome. I'm Arthur, by the way, or Carnival if you prefer the party clown'

‘Nice to meet you, Arthur. I'm Y/N.’

‘Y/N…’ the sound of your name off his lips jolted you shamelessly to the point where you needed to take that step back, and yet you didn't. ‘I'll see you around?’

The smile on his painted face a ray of sunshine in an otherwise wretched day. Carnival, you cheekily thought to yourself, never had you wanted to experience one as badly as you did seeing him light up a cigarette and inhale it wantonly almost halfway through, walking back a few steps, then turning and making his way back to the store.

Days at work had flown by rapidly in your constant distraction with a lingering image of a colorful clown. Not even the new guy everyone was talking about could catch your attention, even if your girlfriends kept mentioning a stunning pair of black eyes and a charming swagger. Had he been a smoker, you'd perhaps get a glimpse of him during your breaks, at least. The Fridays hardly ever felt like the weekend, and this one made you want to smash some bones, your own sorrows bubbling up inside you, like a mint candy in a bottle of Cola. You were more of an indoors cat, but your really couldn't pass on a 3rd invitation for a night out, your buddies would think you were willfully ditching them. Fine I'll go! Just one drink though.

Mixing gin and tequila hadn't been up there among your smartest choices. You should have stopped after the 3rd shot, but you hadn't had so much fun in months. Hah! I feel dizzy. But this feels good, your thoughts pieces of a puzzle you were too drunk to make out. As your feet moved out of the taxi and into the cold early morning air, you were finally back home. You must have remembered to pay the fare otherwise the cabby would have chased you down. You drifted in your scrambled thoughts as your feet walked out of reflex, your mind miles away, preoccupied with a certain pair of turquoise eyes. Perhaps you had a propensity for dark hues, but those had always just been mere dust in front of green shades. I’m not in my own mind anymore… I’m in someone else's... And I’m touching myself, I’m licking my lips, the tip of my tongue grazes over the scar on my upper lip, the heat of my breath comes from within a boiling body, my skin sizzles. I hum and I moan and I... hah, fuck, I think I just broke my heel, I’m so fekkin drunk. You dragged yourself to the elevator, your mind desperately hoping you were managing to keep yourself composed so the sweet old doorman wouldn't judge you as a drunken failure in life.

Why did you do this to yourself? And can you just not redirect all your remaining fluids to where they're not required before you're at least in your bed? Fuck, I can't... you'd been pushing the elevator button for a minute before you growled a tad too loud at the drunken realization you’d have to climb all 5 storeys in this wretched state you'd put yourself into.

Fine, just get your sorry ass up before you make a fool of yourself clowning around. Just one more and you're there. Fumbling for your keys in your bag, you leaned on the door and, to your surprise and annoyance, it opened. What the fuck, was I drunk before I left my apartment? How could I have forgotten to lock the damn door?

You felt sick to your stomach, you couldn't walk to the bed. You hadn't drunk so much for over a year, you’d forgotten how useless you were in this state. The couch would do for tonight. You almost dropped yourself to the floor, the couch not in the same position as you'd left it, but who cared. I'm never drinking again, you thought as you coiled around the pillow, a shoe dropping on the floor while the other hung half way. It smelled of cigarettes, most probably from your clothes.

A familiar enticing aftertaste of alcohol clawed its way out once again, you should have known this was coming. You wished he'd be there so you could release yourself to him, as frail as he was he'd surely handle you gently, and mmm wouldn't that feel sweet. The alcohol had just been a low end substitute to bury your frustrations and aches. Hah, even if he was here, you'd be useless. But that didn't stop you from dozing off to the thought of his gentle fingers strolling down your neck to your breasts, drawing circles on your waist before goin... down lo...

There was too much light in the room, as drunk as you’d been you’d forgotten to draw the curtains. You couldn't open your eyes, the headache was throbbing, so you rubbed your temples and turned your led limbs from the aching position you'd landed on as the most shameful drunk in this city.

Your mind thought you could take opening your eyes, and as you did you felt the alcohol pressuring your Adam's apple, a deep breath a flimsy stronghold to keep everything down. A deep breath that turned swiftly to a high pitched shriek at the sight of this man walking towards you dripping water off his naked body, a towel being rubbed onto his hair with both hands. You shrieked as you fell to the floor, hitting yourself against an unfamiliar coffee table, flagons of pills spilling all over it.

Oh shit, you heard him say as he hid behind the wall, peering at you but quieting his anxiety the more he looked.

'What are you... Y/N, you're in the wrong apartment! Shit, I need to put something on'

Oh god what had you done?? A sous chef could have mistaken you for a lobster and thrown you in a bucket of boiling water, you’d surely been simmering in that since the realization of how much of an idiot you were at walking into his apartment, of all damn places.

‘Oh my god, I am SO SORRY, I had a few too many drinks with my friends and I must have... I surely have climbed too many storeys to my place. I'll be out of your hair, I am so sorry!!!’ He'd been hopping throughout your dreams for the past weeks, you'd seen him naked so many times before, but not once in the flesh. You were flustered at the brazen realization of how far off you'd been as you fantasized about him bare before you. It was nerve wrecking, you wished you could just disintegrate into a million atoms and let the ground swallow you whole.

He chuckled as he returned in a half clothed state, clearly having shortened the process just to catch you before you shut the door behind you.

‘Yeah, the elevator was out of order yesterday. Hey, it's ok. You just really scared me, I wasn't expecting to find you on my couch, you know? You're... welcome to... stay a bit longer if you want. You look like you've had a rough night, I could whip out some breakfast and get you back on your feet. If you wish…’

He'd whipped out more than you'd thought he would a couple minutes ago, thank you very much for the extra sleepless nights.

‘Oh my god, no, I couldn't take advantage of you like that, I just slept on your couch uninvited, I am so horrible. Please excuse me, and thank you for not calling the cops on me.’

He'd smiled at you in the elevator before your heels had started flaming for him a few weeks back, but this was different. His whole face had lit up, his eyes sparkling as if emerald and jade had caught a reflection of the sun, his crooked tooth a tantalizing new discovery, especially as the scar on his lip etched itself deeper into your psyche. You were in his house, after all, where else would he feel most comfortable if not in his private, intimate home, one that you'd shamefully invaded and found him completely naked and wet.

‘They're on their way actually, I’m just stalling before they show up to escort you from my property.’

You chuckled as you held your temple, you must have been a disgusting mess, your makeup all smudged, on your face a decrepit layer of last nights overindulgence, and yet he made you laugh.

‘You're funny, Arthur... I'll take care of that myself, tell them it was a false alarm...’

As you opened the door to remove yourself from this torrent of shame, his voice stopped you in the doorstep.

‘Hey, you wanna… grab a coffee later tonight? It might help with that hangover’

‘You really want to go out after all this?’

‘Yeah!’ his eyebrow twitched in reflex, startling you at its sudden air of impertinence. You couldn't tell if your limbs had mellowed from alcohol, or his facial expressivity had been the melting catalyst. ‘Pajama night, I'll take you to the best Donut diner in town. 9 PM?’

You really wished you could process everything clearly, but he wasn't making it easier at all. ‘Alright then, pajama night it is!’

‘Great! Are you sure I can't help you to your place?’

‘Sorry to ask, what floor is this?’

‘6th.’

‘Oh, I’m right downstairs, maybe going down a flight of stairs will shake off this horrid hangover. Thanks again for... hosting me I guess, nice to see you again, Arthur. I'll see you later!’

You waved at him more in a futile attempt to cover your face as you stepped back out of that bubble of shame, feeling soaked to the bone. The droplets on his skin, he'd just gotten out of the shower, that routine gesture to slick back his hair, that wide morning gaze were mere special mentions as you went down the stairs, one other morning factor keeping your mind fully flustered as you unlocked your own front door this time.

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Thank you for reading this far! 🤡🖤

A special thank you to a few wonderful people who inspire me daily ❤❤❤

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