#he stormed off to his room and a bit later i hear a distant

[soup-soup-soup-soup-soup]

my brother, upon seeing me eat the last of our leftover soup: this is the worst possible thing you could have done to me

[tikosblogg]

If I’m There.

Summary: Noah is on tour for the first time since you’ve started dating. He’s been gone for two months, and you’re not handling it very well.

Warning: Fluff, unprotected piv (wrap it up), sweet Noah, soft dom Noah.

A/N: This thought popped into my head, and it just seemed so sweet. So I had to write it out🥲

The room was dimly lit, the fading sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains, casting long shadows across the walls. You let out a heavy sigh, collapsing onto your bed, a familiar weight settling on your chest. Two months had passed since Noah left for tour, and the distance felt heavier than ever. It gnawed at you like a persistent ache, one that found an outlet in your heartbeat. Each day bled into the next, a monochrome cycle of work and waiting.

You had spent the day buried in paperwork and meetings that felt far too tedious to endure. No matter how hard you focused, your mind drifted back to Noah—his laugh, the way his eyes sparkled when he was excited, the gentle touch of his hand on your skin. You replayed old conversations in your mind, moments of warmth that felt so distant now. He called whenever he could, his charismatic voice a balm for your aching heart, but it was never quite enough.

After a quick shower, you changed into your softest pajamas, feeling an avalanche of exhaustion wash over you. Tonight, you needed to hear his voice, to bridge the yawning gap that separated you. You picked up your phone, your fingers trembling slightly as you tapped out a message.

‘Can I call you?’

His reply came just moments later, and your heart plummeted the moment you read it.

‘Hey baby, I can’t at the moment. I’ll call as soon as I can.’

His words felt like a slap, the last bit of resilience you had evaporating in an instant. You put the phone down, staring at the blank screen, your thoughts spiraling into despair. The silence of the room enveloped you, accentuated by the absence of him and the way he could fill any space with warmth. Rolling over, you buried your face in your pillow and let the tears flow freely.

The world outside faded away, melted into a blur of muted colors and distant sounds. You were alone, utterly alone. The anxiety you already suffer with daily feeling 100 times worse. Each sob rattled through your body like a storm, releasing the pent-up frustration and longing that had buried itself inside you. Loneliness clawed at your heart with vicious claws, whispering doubts in your ear as you cried.

The gentle hum of the night enveloped the room, a stark contrast to the emotional storm that had engulfed you just hours before. While tears clouded your vision and sorrow gripped your heart, sleep finally claimed you, wrapping you in its oblivion. The world faded away, and for a brief moment, you found solace within the quiet sanctuary of your shared bed.

Noah's return was a surprise. The tour had been grueling, filled with endless nights under stage lights and overwhelming applause, yet none of it mattered as much as the thought of you. He had missed you fiercely, but the sight that greeted him as he entered the bedroom tugged at his heart with a pang of helplessness.

There you lay, as beautiful as ever, the soft rise and fall of your chest a soothing rhythm. But the deep breath he took turned heavy in his throat when he noticed the telltale signs of your distress—splotchy cheeks and the remnants of tears that lingered like an unfished chorus on your skin. It grieved him to know you had been alone, battling your emotions while he was miles away, lost in the frenzy of touring.

Moving quietly, Noah slipped off both his hoodie and shoes, careful not to wake you. Every step felt like an apology, a way to express the love that burst inside him like a thousand firework blooms. He climbed into the bed beside you, the mattress creaking slightly, but you remained blissfully unaware. Noah's heart raced as he positioned himself beside you, engulfing you in warmth as he slid under the comforter, shielding you both from the world.

He hesitated for a heartbeat, admiring the beauty of your face, still marked by sorrow yet painted with the gentle brush of sleep. With a determined tenderness, he pulled you against him, feeling your body mold into his—a perfect fit amidst the storm. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a vow to shield you from all the sadness that dared creep into your mind.

“I’m here baby,” he murmured, his voice a mere whisper yet thick with promise. Even in his exhaustion, he would fight against the shadows of your fears. It didn’t matter that he had flown halfway across the world; at this moment, all that mattered was right here, with you.

The warmth of his embrace began to seep into the crevices of your dreams, unwinding the threads of distress and weaving in comfort in its place. As you nestled your head against his chest, Noah’s heart beat steadily, providing a new lullaby—a sound that would coax you into a peaceful slumber, where worries could wait just a little longer.

In that quiet room, cradled within each other, the world outside ceased to exist. The distress that had carved itself into your life faded, pulled away by the strength of his presence. You were no longer alone.

You open your eyes, the room bathed in darkness. The little light you had from the moon shining through the curtains, helping you find your phone on the bedside table. You picked up, to check for any texts or missed calls from Noah. You suddenly noticed the quiet sound of steady breathing behind you, as you jumped up onto your knees spinning around to find Noah sleeping peacefully beside you.

You were in shock. Your hands flew to your mouth, as you tried to keep your happy cries quiet as to not wake him up. He’s here. You thought he wasn’t supposed to be here until his tour was over.

Your hands shook with excitement, as you tried to keep yourself from jumping on him. He looked beautiful, his brown hair tousled from sleep. He laid on his back soft breathes leaving his plush lips.

You examined the rest of his body, the comforter had slid down to his waist at some point during the night. You let your eyes travel down his throat towards chest, and down to his hips.

Looking over every tattoo, like you haven’t seen them a hundred times already. You struggled , trying to keep yourself together but you couldn’t anymore.

As silent tears fell down your cheeks, you softly threw your leg over his hips straddling him. You placed your palms on his abdomen, running them up and down his smooth skin.

Noah stirred slightly, a quiet murmur escaping his lips as his large hands instinctively reached to pull you closer. You felt your heart race at the contact; it was like the world around you melted away, leaving just the two of you in that dimly lit sanctuary. You could hardly believe your eyes or your luck—he was here, in your bed, warm and safe, as though he’d never left.

You leaned down, brushing your lips softly against his chest. It was a gentle touch, one that spoke of everything you wanted to say but couldn’t quite find the words for. His skin was warm and familiar, and the scent of his cologne lingered in the air, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. Memories of late-night phone calls and sleepless nights waiting for his texts rushed back, but all those worries and the ache of distance seemed trivial now.

Noah began to wake, his eyelids fluttering open as a sleepy smile broke across his face. “Hey, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

“Hey,” you responded, still struggling to keep from crying with joy. “I thought you were still on the road.”

“I was,” he said, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “But we have a few free days, I couldn’t wait anymore. I needed to be here with you.” He whispered.

You felt your heart swell at his words. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” you admitted, your voice shaky.

“I think I have a pretty good idea,” he grinned, his brown eyes sparkling in the dim light like stars emerging in a night full of possibilities. “I missed you so much, it hurt, you know?”

You nodded, feeling a flood of emotions surge through you. It had been harder than you expected during the months he had been away, and nights like this one, where everything felt perfect, had felt like distant dreams. But now—now he was right here, and it was real.

You leaned down again, capturing his lips in a soft kiss, craving the warmth and connection. His hands found their way to your ass, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. your senses flared; the warmth of his breath mingled with the intoxicating aroma of his cologne, wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

You moaned softly when he gently bit your bottom lip, a playful spark igniting in his deep-set eyes. The sound you made told him everything he needed to know, and with a grin that sent shivers racing through you, he flipped you over with ease.

Now, he hovered above you, a vision of love and intensity. The shift in dynamics filled the air with an electric anticipation. You looked up at him, heart racing, pussy clenching in response to the way he gazed down at you..

“What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, sending a ripple of excitement coursing through you.

“exactly this,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. His presence was overwhelming yet comforting, a paradox you’d come to adore.

His lips quirked into a smile, and he lowered himself to brush his nose against yours. “I love you so much.” he murmured, his breath mingling with yours, creating an intimacy that enveloped you both.

His eyes sparkled with adoration as he leaned down to plant soft, teasing kisses along your jawline, and down to your neck. Each touch ignited flames of desire, making you arch your back and lean into him, craving the heat between you both.

“Tell me what you want,” he encouraged, his mouth hovering just above your skin.

You swallowed hard, emotions swirling wildly within you. You had always been the quieter one, but tonight felt different. There was a magnetic energy that emboldened you. “I want you…all of you.”

With a swift motion, he captured your lips again, the kiss deep and hungry, filled with everything left unsaid. It was intoxicating—the give and take of your breaths, the way your bodies moved together seamlessly, as if choreographed by some unseen force.

He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his expression intense and sincere. “You have me” he smiled, running his tongue over the seam of your lips. You groaned, your fingers finding the waistband of his sweatpants. With another kiss, you reached inside pulling his already hard dick out.

He sighed at the feeling, dropping his head into your neck. “Fuck baby.” He groaned as you slowly stroked him. After he had enough, he pushed your hand away, sitting back on his knees pulling your pajama shorts and underwear off. You let your thighs fall apart, silently begging him to finally touch you.

He reached down slowly running his thumb back and forth over your swollen clit, making you gasp. “You know I love taking my time with you baby, but I can’t wait anymore.” He breathed, laying back over you and positioning himself right at your entrance.

You nodded, as he kissed your lips pushing into you slowly. You both groaned against each others lips, as he stretched you out. You could almost cry at the feeling. You had missed it so much. He turned his head, biting and sucking the skin of your neck, as his hips snapped against yours.

“Fuck Noah….I love you.” You whined, as he continued filling your body with so much pleasure. “I know baby, I love you too.” He grunted at his hips sped up. He reached up, grabbing your jaw, and turning your head towards him. He gently shoved his thumb between your lips, pressing it against your tongue.

“I need you to cum for me baby, I’m not gonna last long.” You whimpered around his digit, before he pulled it out, and pressed it firmly against your clit rubbing it quickly. “Oh fuck! Yes yes yes.” You whined, as his hips sped up more now pounding into you. “Fuck baby you feel so fucking good. You’re fucking perfect.” He panted down at you.

You whimpered and moaned, as you looked down between the both of you, watching him fuck deep into your swollen pussy. The sight alone, had you reaching your peak, as you clenched around his dick. He grunted, fucking through it. “Good girl baby, just like that.”

After a few more thrusts, his hips faltered and he emptied himself inside you. He collapsed on top of you, as you both laid there catching your breath. He finally lifted his head, looking down at you with a smile small. He pecked your lips, as you reached up, running your fingers through his hair. “I missed this so fucking much.” He smirked, before pressing his lips to your neck again, his voice a quiet whisper. “Good. Cause I’m not done with you yet.”

[hugsandchaos]

When Your New Uncle Is Accidentally An Old Space Deity

Okay, so this is kind of like a SatBK AU?? People saying that Shadows from the future and all, but what if it was the opposite? What if he’s actually from the distant past and humans are either extinct or the ones now living have absolutely zero recollection of their long gone civilization that covered the planet because they were focused on surviving whatever led to their downfall? During this time, Shadow was captured again and put into suspended animation.

Several decades later, when the last generator finally stopped working, Shadow broke free. Over 99% of the human population was dead by now and the Earth had already reclaimed a lot of the cities. He took whatever was in good enough condition, which wasn’t much despite the sheer amount of buildings he could search, and left.

A couple centuries later, he has his own cabin and small farm, but not for himself. It’s for the chao. Yeah, he lives near a chao garden, about a 15 minute walk from his house. He now has a quiet, private life, free to roam and enjoy the sights of the changing planet and still have a place to come back home to.

Even longer, and now we’re at the point in time where Arthur is crowned king. The humans of now, a rare species at this point, are just as clueless of the ruins and the way the world once was as the evolved animals that took over most of the population. Shadow remembers, though. How could he possibly forget?

Now I have two ideas of where this could go next. I mean, they’re technically the same, but still. Here’s the first one.

One day, a young rabbit named Colette (Cream) gets lost in the confusing forest after wandering off and stumbles across the chao garden. One of the chao noticed her injured arm and brought her to Shadow’s cabin to get help from the ancient alien hybrid. Colette was understandably scared of him at first, but Shadow was patient with her and fixed her arm. He then got her some food and water since it’s been a while since she had any, and once she was better, he started helping her find her mother. Since he could teleport, it wasn’t too hard to find her. Colette’s mother, who we’ll call Vivian, tried repeatedly to return the favor, but Shadow kept refusing and vanished after telling Colette to go easy on the arm for a bit.

Shadow thought that was the end of it, but then Colette and her mother started showing up at the chao garden. Colette wanted to play with the chao that had helped her, who she started calling Cheese, and little by little, the dark hybrid grew closer with the two of them. Now he babysits Colette pretty often and teaches her a bunch of things.

Idea 2:

Instead of Colette being lost, the chao is the one who’s lost. Colette brings the little guy inside before a big storm hits and Vivian is both sympathetic towards the chao and concerned about what could come of this. After dinner, Colette has nicknamed the chao Cheese because of their affinity for the food, and is playing with them in the living room before bed. Vivian hears a knock on the door and rushes to open it since the storm is still raging pretty hard and it’s already pretty dark. When she opens the door, Shadow’s standing there completely unbothered by the rain and asks if she’s seen a chao anywhere. Cheese, upon hearing the voice of his caregiver, rushes to Shadow’s side and hugs his leg. Vivian explains the situation and Shadow thanks her, and is about to leave, but is asked to come inside and get out of the rain.

Cheese likes the sound of that and urges Shadow to do it, so he comes inside. After a bit, the two learn that Shadow is a hybrid with chaos powers which they understand as magical powers bestowed onto him by Chaos, and Shadow isn’t sure how to explain everything. He takes care of the chao, and decides that the two would be granted permission to enter the garden, which they have to go to first to know where it is.

In both ideas, Shadow eventually teaches them both a lot about outer space, and casually mentions his age by saying things like “a couple decades ago” or “wow, I’m old” to them somehow. He always seems to have a more scientific explanation for almost everything. Not only that, but Colette starts seeing him as an uncle, and Shadow gladly accepts his new title “Uncle Shadow”. Vivian often tries to encourage healthy eating habits after realizing that since he doesn’t need to eat to survive, he just stopped all together a long time ago.

And you best believe anyone who tries to hurt them is getting knocked into next week.

In not so many words; Shadow’s a lot, lot older than he looks, knows the secrets of the cosmos and Earth, and he has powers and gets along with the mysterious chao, so now the young bunny who he helped and now comes by to play with the chao and her mother start to wonder if he’s actually some sort of deity from beyond the sky’s reach when they listen to the random bits of lore he drops.

Also, maybe Arthadow because Colette introduces Shadow to Arthur for whatever reason.

[2af-afterdark]

Jealousy Like You and Me

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: F/M/M Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me! Relationships: Lucifer/MC/Satan Characters: Main Character, Lucifer, Satan Additional Tags: afab!mc (you/your), Mc is a bit of a passive aggressive brat, they talk it out eventually, multiple partners, make-up sex, nipple play/sucking, pet names (kitten), mild smut, vaginal fingering Summary: After Lucifer and Satan had to flirt with someone else to occupy her time, you aren’t feeling so great. You’re upset but can’t tell them why, and they don’t fail to notice. It’s okay, because you’ll all make up in the end. A/N: Darling, be as selfish as your heart desires. You think I write all that Simeon smut out of pure altruism? Nah. I do it because I am down bad for that man and have thots. I would have loved to base this more off the Devilgram story, but I don’t actually know which one that would be? Gonna do my best anyway! Word Count: 1400

“Can I sit here?”

You looked over the rim of your book, locking eyes with Satan before curling up your legs and making yourself smaller on the library couch without giving a verbal response. Then, you went back to your book.

He sat next to you wordlessly, flipping open his own book and silently indulging in his story.

You and he hadn’t spoken all day. You weren’t ignoring him, per se, just not going out of your way to spend time with him. You couldn’t even really look at him for more than a few seconds before a torrent of emotions overtook you; rage, sadness, longing, confusion, admiration, and more. It was too much to try and parse through them, so you didn’t want to try. Silence was good enough as far as you were concerned.

Or, it would have been if not for the stomping you could hear approaching from down the hall toward your exact location. As Lucifer stormed through the door holding a bucket half full of what looked like thick, brown, bubbling… something that had a faint trail of steam wafting off the top. 

Lucifer glared down at Satan, looking as disgruntled as he possibly could. Satan returned his expression with one of barely contained mischievous glee that quickly turned sour as he took in the sight of Lucifer.

"Can I help you?" Satan asked incredulously.

Lucifer held out the bucket toward Satan with an impassive face. "Beel found your trash. Unfortunately for you, it seems he already ate a good deal of it before I could ensure you got it back to dispose of it properly."

Ah, it seemed they were going to fight as always. Yeah, you weren't in the mood for that, especially given the bad mood you were already in because of these two in particular.

You shut your book with an audible thud, drawing their attention to you instead of their asinine argument. "If you two are going to bicker, at least let me leave first."

"We're not arguing," Lucifer said. "This is merely a reminder to Satan not to leave his trash lying around."

"Mhm," you hummed with mild annoyance as you stood up and began to head toward the exit. "You have fun with that. I'm going to my room, where it's quiet."

You didn't turn around as one of them called your name, choosing to separate yourself before they did something stupid. Instead, you went straight to your room and curled up on your bed to finish reading. 

It wasn't until who-knows-how-much-later that you heard a knock at your door. With a sigh, you beckoned whoever it was inside.

Satan and Lucifer, of course. Great. Just who you didn't want to see right now.

"Yeah?" You try not to look at them, but damn if it isn't hard when they are both staring straight at you lounging back in your bed. If only you could crawl under your covers without making it a huge scene.

"Are you okay?" Satan finally asked.

"Peachy. Why?"

Lucifer answered that one, clearly upsetting Satan as he cut him off. "Because you've been distant lately."

You looked between the two of them. "Is this really the thing that gets you two to team up?" With a sigh, you closed your book. "I'm fine."

"Don't lie," Lucifer said.

"I'm not. It's petty and doesn't matter. I'll be fine."

Satan finally got a chance to speak. "Being fine eventually doesn't mean you are right now."

Your fingers clenched for a moment, knuckles flexing and loosening again as your eyes shifted to look away from their distressingly nonjudgmental gazes. Your throat felt dry as you opened and closed your mouth a few times while trying to find words that wouldn't come, eventually settling on simply saying whatever came to you.

"You love me, right?"

For the first time you can consciously remember, both of their faces twisted into clear confusion, shock, and befuddlement.

"Of course I do," Satan said on his behalf.

"We do," Lucifer corrected. "What would make you think otherwise?"

You bit the inside of your lip. "It… it sounds silly."

"It's not silly if it's bothering you." Satan stepped forward tentatively, watching to see how you would react. When you didn't show discomfort at his closeness, he came just a little bit closer still until he was next to you on your bed. "What is it?"

Why couldn't the ground just open up beneath you and swallow you whole so you didn't have to answer him? "The other day… you and Lucifer had to occupy Maddi and… I didn't like it. It felt awful to know you two were trying to sweep her off her feet."

Lucifer shook his head. "That didn't mean anything."

"I know," you replied. "I know you weren't serious and it was necessary but it hurt to watch my boyfriends be sweet with someone else. It felt like I was being rejected and replaced right in front of my eyes. I know you wouldn't do that, but it hurt all the same."

"Kitten," Satan leaned over and placed a gentle hand against your cheek, "we would never, could never, replace you. Especially not with Maddi of all people."

"I know." Your eyes were damp as you pressed your fingers against them to swipe the water away. "I told you it was silly."

"Yes, it is." You didn't know when Lucifer had gotten so close, but now he could touch you and pull your attention in his direction as Satan released you to him. "It's offensive that you'd think we could think of anyone but you. Do we have to prove that to you?"

Your face heated up and you couldn't look him in the eyes; neither of them. Even with that slight tinge of embarrassment, you slowly nodded. You wanted them – both of them – especially as you felt all that rage, sadness, longing, confusion, admiration, and more inside of you turning into unbridled love, comfort, and belonging.

Satan's hand dropped to slowly roam down your stomach, pulling up the hem of your top to brush his fingers against your skin and sneak them past the edge of your pants and underwear. 

He leaned in close to you, lips burning against your ear as his low, breathy voice whispered to you, "I'll make sure you never feel that way again. I'll carve it deep inside of you. Right here." His cool fingers began to tease at your sex, stroking your pussy lips inside and out until he could feel your wetness starting to coat the tips of his fingers.

Your head rolled onto Satan's shoulder as you braced against him. Your legs started to spread wider apart and welcome him deeper inside, small gasps of eagerness and surprise tumbling out of your mouth as he began to gradually get faster.

It was easy to fall into the pace he was setting and let go, drowning in the haze of euphoria spinning around your mind as he built you up. It was so easy that it jolted you upright when you suddenly felt something warm and wet lapping at one of your nipples while the other was flicked and pinched.

Lucifer's lips wrapped around one bud, sucking and licking at it as his fingers lovingly caressed the other. His eyes only glanced up at you for a second to see your flustered face before gently biting down to hear you gasp for him.

"It's insulting to think you'd be threatened by any other person." Lucifer smirked against your skin. "Who could ever compete with you?"

"I'm sorry," you whimpered out between gasping moans as Satan dug two fingers deep inside of you. "I should know better."

"Yes, you should," Lucifer said as he switched to lap at your other nipple.

Satan kissed the side of your face. "Since you need us to prove our loyalty, do you know what comes next?"

You shook your head, them long at both of their ministrations.

Lucifer crawled higher up your body, laying a wet kiss against your lips. "We're going to make sure you can never question who we love again. Now," he grabbed your hand and dragged it over the tent clearly pitching itself in his pants, "choose how we should show you, or else we'll be deciding how the rest of the night will go."

And he did mean the entire night.

[i-think-i-did-it-again]

The Roommate II

Warning: swearing, smut, fluff

You lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Colson didn’t come out of his bedroom for the rest of the night and you kind of didn’t know what to do with yourself. You moved in autopilot mode. After a couple more beers, you made a sandwich for dinner, drank some more tequila, had a shower and drunkenly crawled into bed. You can’t hear any movement coming from the room beside yours so you kind of assume that maybe he’s gone to sleep. When you’re half awake after an hour of staring at the ceiling, you hear the sound of his door opening. Colson quietly goes into the bathroom and returns to his room a few moments later. You’re not really sure why but something about this really pisses you off.

The inconsiderate jerk has been sitting in his room all night letting you fester over the thought that you’d completely screwed up your friendship with him. Instead, he was just sitting in there probably jerking off and hitting up late night hookups on his phone, watching dumb YouTube videos. The thought is so infuriating that you find yourself slamming your legs over the bed, slamming your door open and stomping down the hallway to his door. You don’t even bother to knock. You swing the door open and scowl at Colson lying in his bed. He looks up from his phone and stares at you with an infuriating blank stare.

“What the fuck is your problem Colson?” you spit at him. He leans up on his elbow to get a better view of you but still says nothing. “Are you just never going to speak to me ever again?”

“No, I just don’t have anything to say to you. Clearly you’re drunk and angry at the world and nothing I say will change that,” he dismisses you, lying back on his bed and returning his attention to his phone. 

“Could you get off your high horse for 5 minutes? I made the first move but no one held a gun to your head and made you kiss me back!”

“What was I supposed to do? Shove you off me and tell you to get a grip?” he looks up from his phone again and you’re struggling to understand his cold demeanour. “So your ex go engaged, who gives a fuck? He was a prick who didn’t deserve you. There's no reason to get drunk and throw yourself at the first guy you see. It’s a bit slutty to be honest. It was just a bit of fun for me but I had to stop it before it went too far and you fell in love with me or something.”

You stand there completely dumbfounded. This Colson is so different from the one you thought you knew. The guy he was less than 2 hours ago, sitting on the couch, hanging out and talking, making you feel better. This one is so distant and unfeeling that your voice is literally stuck in your throat. You feel the tears pricking at your eyes and you’re trying so hard to hold it together but the longer you stand there staring at his blank stare, the harder it becomes to move. You want to run. Run out of the apartment, run out of his life. Forever. You can feel the tears begin to fall and now you just feel embarrassed. Embarrassed that you stormed in and basically demanded attention. Embarrassed that you got angry when you didn’t get it or at least the kind you wanted. 

“Feel better now?” Colson asks, putting his phone down and rolling over to go to sleep. When you don’t say anything, he looks up half expecting some smartass answer.

“I…I loved him,” you finally choke out, holding your chest as you feel it breaking apart.

You don’t even see him move across the room to you but you feel his arms wrapped around your crumbling frame, crushing you against his chest. He drags you back towards his bed and nestles you into his lap, allowing you to bury your face in the crook of his neck while you sob. He rubs circles on your back and whispers words of comfort in your ear to calm your tears. You’re not even really sure if you’re crying more over Colson’s earlier rejection and dismissive attitude or over your ex. 

You really were madly in love with your ex but there were major red flags with him. He was reluctant about putting a label on the relationship early, he liked keeping you at an arm's length until he felt you pulling away or he wanted attention, he didn’t like you having male friends but had many, many female friends, he always made comments about your body or the clothes you wore. He enjoyed how much you depended on him. Even trying to make you quit your job so he could “take care of you”. When you told him your idea of the future together being to get married and have children, he ended it. You were devastated but you thought that after a year, you wouldn’t care anymore. Maybe it’s the idea that he did want to get married, just not to you.

“I’m sorry I was an asshole. I just didn’t want to be your second choice,” Colson strokes your cheek and you look up to watch his face as he speaks. “I haven’t said anything because I didn’t want to fuck up what we have. You’re the first person I’ve ever been able to live with for longer than 6 months and I like having you as a friend.”

“Colson, we barely see each other,” you love and wipe at your under eyes. 

You know that your eyes are probably all puffy and red and you want to go splash some cold water on your face but you don’t want to be rude. You look at Colson's neck and notice the damp patch of skin from your tears. It’s then that your brain finally registers that Colson isn't wearing a shirt and he’s only in a tight, black pair of briefs. You wonder if maybe you should get off his lap but his hand is still running up and down your back and it feels too good right now.

“I know that our schedules are almost completely opposite but when we are around each other, we can hang out and talk, which is way more than my previous roommates, male or female. You’re cool and fun and you never take yourself too seriously.”

“As much as I’d love to think you actually believe those things about me, I think you’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“Hey,” Colson grabs your chin to force you to look at him. “I wouldn’t make that shit up to make you feel better. I really fucking think that about you. I think a lot of things about you.”

You stare at him for a few moments, completely entranced by his innocent blue eyes. That feeling from earlier begins to settle in the pit of your stomach again. You have to shut down the urge to lean forward and connect your lips to his. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the need to feel wanted but something about the way he’s looking at you is making your skin burn. You can’t tell if he can read or mind if he is feeling the same thing but he shifts his leg underneath you so that your body is pushed up against him. You bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from blurting out something stupid and Colson’s eyes zero in on the movement.

“Fuck it,” he growls before burying his hand in your hair and press his lips to yours.

Your mind is reeling as your body immediately responds to him. You turn your legs so you’re straddling his lap and you can feel his hard on pressing into your core. You moan into his mouth and begin grinding against him. He grips your hip to guide your movements and you are so turned on that it feels impossible. Colson wastes no time in getting your clothes off. He rips your t-shirt from your body, picking you up and pushing you down onto the bed. His body encapsulates yours and every single one of your senses are filled with him. He smells like a mix of weed, mint and his coconut body wash. His fingers feel callased against the soft flesh of your breasts, his rings are cold on your flushed flesh and his body is heavy weight against your body in the most erotic way.

Your lips find each other and as you kiss, Colson removes your sweatpants, yanking them down your legs. He runs his fingers up your inner leg, slowing his fingertips as he gets to the top of your thigh. You’re completely soaked at this point, heat radiating from your core. Your back arches, trying to get him to touch you where you so desperately want it, groaning when he fails to comply.

“So eager baby,” he whispers in your ear before slamming his fingers inside you.

You squeal at the shock and pant as his fingers stroke your walls. He reaches so deep that you can feel him against your g-spot, lightly rubbing it. His mouth runs kisses all over your neck, down the valley of your breasts. He takes a nipple in his mouth and sucks and nips at it which just adds to your pleasure. Before you know it, a wave of pleasure is washing over you and the rubberband in the pit of your stomach snaps as your orgasm hits you. You’re screaming and moaning as you follow out your high. 

While you’re coming back to earth, you feel Colson shift so he’s lying beside you. You slink your way up his body, kissing him hard. You lead a trial of kisses down his body, tracing your tongue over his tattoos. His breath comes out in ragged intervals as you work your way down. Once you reach the hem of his briefs, you run your tongue along the V of his lower abdomen. When you hook your fingers into his waistband, his hands grab you to still your movements.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks softly and your heart swells at his concern. You move back up to his face to kiss him in the most loving way possible.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you assure him before returning to your original position.

You pull his boxers down and his long, hard dick springs free of its confines. He groans at the feeling of freedom and you smile at his relief. You grip him in your hand and stare at his size for a few seconds. You had a feeling that he’d be big but this is fucking ridiculous. How the hell does he walk with that thing in his pants all day? You wrap your lips around the tip and suck gently. Colson twitches upright and you love how he responds to you. You take more of him in your mouth and begin to suck and bob your head up and down. He’s moaning and writhing underneath you within seconds as your skilled mouth moves.

“Fuck baby,” he laces his fingers into your hair and pulls your head back. “If you keep going I’m going to blow in your mouth. Come up here,” he opens his arms to you and you crawl up to his body to his face.

He kisses you again, more urgently than before. Desperate to feel every part of him, you run your hands up and down his back, occasionally scraping your nails across his skin. He flips your body over so he’s hovering above you again, using his knee to spread your legs apart. He places himself at your entrance and hesitates as he looks down at you.

“If you ask if I’m sure one more time, I’m going to spank you,” you scold him before he can even speak.

“Ooo, I didn’t realise you were in that kinky shit,” he teases with a grin.

He eases into you and you’re suddenly very aware of how tight you are. He moves slowly to allow you to adjust and you remind yourself to breathe. He waits for you to stretch before he begins to move a bit quicker. As he moves you wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him closer to you. 

“Oh fuck, Colson. Oh-my god, don’t stop,” you moan as he moves quicker in and out of you.

He pulls all the way out before slamming back into you over and over again. You don’t even feel the orgasming coming before suddenly you’re exploding around him. You scream and writhe under him as he quickens his pace again. He flips you so that you’re on your stomach and somehow he feels deeper. You’re moaning so loudly but you don’t even care right now. The feeling of him inside you is so amazing that you can’t even register anything else around you. His pace begins to falter and suddenly he’s twitching inside you before erupting inside of you.

“Fuck baby, oh fuck. You’re- oh fuck,’ he pants behind you before falling onto your back.

He slips out of you but continues to lie there as he gathers himself. You’re happy feeling him against you, his chest on your back. You can feel the sweat dripping off him and you don’t care. The warmth of his body on yours is peaceful, you may actually fall asleep. He strokes his fingers across the back of your neck, adding to the pleasure of the moment.

12 months later

After that first night with Colson, you couldn’t get enough of each other. Every chance you got you were on each other like a rash. You’re not really sure when it went from just sex to dating but it seemed like it happened overnight. One morning you woke up in his bed and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d actually slept in your own bed. You liked falling asleep every night, limbs entangled, your head on his chest, his fingers drawing lazy patterns down your bare back.

Before you knew it, he was introducing you as his girlfriend and you were telling people you had a boyfriend. It didn’t seem like too much of a transition. You already lived together, you already knew all of his friends and had hung out with them all, you spent a lot of time together, then you started spending more time together outside the apartment. It was the easiest relationship you’d ever been in. You loved being around Colson. He made you laugh, he made you feel loved.

You still remember the tiny bubble of satisfaction when you ran into your ex walking down the street one sunny Saturday afternoon. You were laughing about some story Colson was telling you, walking hand in hand when you heard your name called. You looked over to see your boyfriend ducking across the street to get to you. He stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed Colson and his eyes practically zeroed in your intertwined hands.

“I thought that was you! Long time, no see,” he gives you a half-armed awkward hug, Colson never letting go of your hand.

“Hey,” you smile politely, not really sure what else to say exactly. “How are you? I heard you got engaged?” you weren’t really sure if he’d ever gotten married, since Colson, you hadn’t cared really.

“Yeah I did but it didn’t work out,” he rubs the back of his neck. “She just wasn’t who I thought she was and I called it off before we even got through half the wedding planning.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” you’re trying so hard to be polite but you really have no interest in making small talk with the man that completely destroyed your confidence.

“So, is this a thing now? I thought that maybe your friend was joking when she said that you two were dating.” 

He looks at Colson to try and include him in the conversation but Colson just stares at him until he gets uncomfortable and looks away. You can feel the hostility radiating off him and you stroke your thumb across the back of his hand to try and calm him but really you’d enjoy seeing him go off on your ex. It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it.

“Yeah, it’s been almost a year now. I’ve never been happier,” you look up at Colson and he softens at your confession. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you to his side.

“Does he want to marry you?” your ex spits bitterly, staring at the way he holds you protectively.

You falter at his question. It hasn’t been something you’ve talked about. The last time you brought it up, you’d had your heart completely shattered. To say it’s a sensitive topic would be an understatement. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of saying you don’t know but you don’t want to put Colson in an uncomfortable position. Before you can answer however, Colson speaks for the first time since you bumped into him.

“I love her so much that I’d marry her tomorrow if she wanted to,” Colson sneers before dragging you away, leaving your ex with his jaw practically on the floor and your heart swelling with pure joy. When you’re far enough away from him that he can’t hear you two talk, Colson looks down at you with an amused expression. “You enjoyed rubbing his nose in our relationship didn’t you?”

“Oh my god!” you practically squeal. “I’ve honestly never felt better,” you laugh before kissing his cheek happily.

“I wasn’t just saying that for his benefit,” you quirk your head to the side, unsure of what he means. “About wanting to marry you. I really do love you and I don’t want you to ever worry that we don’t want the same things, that’s all,” his cheeks blush and he looks away from you.

You don’t have to say anything. You know Colson well enough to know that he doesn’t like to over-analyse things like you do. He’s a man of few words when he wants to be and you know not to push him. He’s already said everything you needed to hear or know. You two just continue to walk down the street, hand in hand, in a happy silence. You picture him standing at the end of an aisle, in a tux, all your family and friends watching you. You grin at the image playing through your mind and you feel a hope towards the future that you’d never felt before.

[powpowpunchout]

Worry About It Later

‘7 o'clock sharp.’ Aran’s voice echoed in Octave’s head while he leaned against the stadium’s back door, keeping it open while he waited for his friend. The metal had a subtle stickiness to it that clung to the skin of his bare back, and while that bothered him–along the strange, faded stains and bits of rust on it that his body was undoubtedly touching–Octave didn’t care right now.

7 o’clock had passed.

Octave’s been waiting here much longer than he wanted to, and had it been any other day? He would’ve walked off to anywhere else, but today he didn’t. He wasn’t sure if it was because the morning felt just a bit more pleasant than it usually did, or the fact he was too tired to put in the effort, but either way, here he stayed.

As he scratched at his stubble, trying to keep himself awake, he listened to the quiet sounds of the stadium. The low hums of fans, the distant steps of employees that roamed around the halls, and the occasional sound of car doors at the nearby lot slamming shut. There was something soothing about it all.

Octave’s arm fell down his side. His thumb latched onto his white belt and he leaned his head against the door. He stared out at the city, the morning’s careful breeze just barely enough to move a few strands of his hair. A thin layer of soft, gray clouds had covered the sky. Octave quite liked it. He certainly preferred it over the sun blinding him.

And the hint of humidity outside mixed with the coolness of the halls? It was great… It was also making him much more tired.

His eyes started to flutter close. His head started to drift down–

He quickly jerked it back up and clutched his chest.

At least he woke himself up a little.

He took a couple of breaths, letting in lungfuls of what smelled like a finished storm, mixed with the subtle scent of cinnamon from an employee’s breakfast that had passed by minutes ago. It was a bit of a strange combination, but one Octave welcomed more than the stadium’s usual chemical stench.

Octave felt himself starting to nod off again.

He stared at the tile floor and tried to keep his eyes open.

It had been a long night for him yesterday. He hardly got any sleep after that dinner, and when he finally started to drift off? Someone just had to call him.

Octave remembered how he woke up with his blanket tangled around his legs. He remembered nearly falling out of bed and cursing during the entire walk to his phone–kicking aside whatever laid in his path–and he remembered just how ready he was to cuss Aran out for calling him so late–

But when he picked up, it was Tiger.

He remembered standing in the middle of his dark living room with nothing but a pair of black shorts on as Tiger spoke to him.

“Ah, good evening, I didn’t think you would be awake at this hour.” Tiger said, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“I wasn’t.” Octave mumbled.

“Oh?” Tiger hummed. There was a pause before Tiger realized, “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry! I was going to leave a voicemail you see, but for some reason my blasted phone wouldn’t let me, so I was going to let the phone ring and wait until then, and… Well, here we are.”

“S’good.” Octave rubbed his eyes, “What’d ya need?”

“I was mostly going to talk about our next meetup… Along with what happened during dinner, again.”

Octave’s grip on his receiver tightened, “Yeah?”

“I’ve just been feeling terrible about what happened, that’s all.” Tiger sighed.

“Ya got no reason to.” Octave said as he sat on the armrest of his couch, which let out a quiet creak, “Not like ya did anythin’.”

“Yes, but–” Static garbled Tiger’s words for a moment, “You wanted to go, we were both looking forward to it, and… It didn’t go exactly as planned, did it?”

Octave kept his phone’s receiver close to his ear as he stayed quiet. Maybe it was because he got woken up in the middle of the night, or maybe it was the hint of disappointment in Tiger’s tone, but Octave’s chest tightened.  

He knew Tiger meant well, so why did hearing that make everything feel worse?   “Again, it’s whatever.” Octave finally said.

“Did you enjoy the food at least?”

“I didn’t get to try th’food.”

The sound of Tiger smacking his forehead could be heard, “Oh, that’s right! I can’t believe I forgot–I am so sorry–”

“Quit apologizin’.” Octave cut him off, “Ain’t nothin’ ya gotta apologize for. If anyone’s got anythin’ to be sorry for, it’s Donny. Guy owes me dinner after throwin’ a fit ‘n makin’ me leave.”

“I could get you take-out from the bar to make it up to you.” Tiger said, “I can buy whatever you’d like, it’s the least I can do.”

“Ya don’t gotta.” Octave said.

“I insist!”

“Yeah, well…” Octave brought his eyes up and stared into the darkness of his house. His chest tightened a bit more, “Just make sure ya take a couple’a bucks outta Don’s wallet and pay with that, huh? Don’t gotta go wastin’ ya cash like that.”

“Please.” Tiger huffed, “If I have to spend a grand after what happened tonight, so be it.”

Octave opened his mouth–

“Don’t even bother arguing with me, I’ve already made up my mind.”

“Alright, alright.” Octave let out a tired chuckle.

As Octave’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he turned his head towards his old TV. He focused on its screen, which was barely illuminated by the streetlights outside his window. The sound of cricket chirps and the distant revving of a car filled the silence in his house.

Octave stared at his fuzzy reflection on the screen.

His stupid, tired, fuzzy reflection.

He brought his head down and looked into the mouthpiece of his phone, “Don ‘n Pisty didn’t give ya a hard time after I left, did they?”

“They threw a bit of a fuss,” Tiger said, “but they’ll be fine. They’ll get over it.”

“ ‘N Bear Hugger?”

“He spent most of the evening telling us about his glassmaking and the other sorts of crafts he does.”

Octave could only let out a quiet ‘Mhm’ as he slouched.

“You didn’t ruin anything tonight, Overload.”

“No.” Octave replied a little too fast, “I don’t care bout that dumb dinner. I was just bout’a ask if Don threw a fit or somethin’ as soon as you came back. He seems like th’type.”

It was Tiger’s turn to chuckle, “Funny you should mention that…”

A sharp whistle suddenly pierced Octave’s ears. He jolted up–shoot, did he doze off?

Octave brushed his hair out of his eyes–only to immediately cover them back up when he saw Aran centimeters away from his face.

“Hadda good nap, Ov’rload?” Aran spoke through his teeth, yet Octave still managed to get a whiff of the beer that lingered in his breath.

“No, actually.” Octave said while he listened to Aran walk past him, “Hadda nightmare bout some ugly monster. Real ugly. Looked kinda like ya, now that I think bout it. It was even runnin’ late to somethin’--”

Aran scowled and let out another whistle, shutting Octave up.

“Close th’door.”

Octave rolled his eyes and got off the door. He moved the hair out of his face again and followed Aran, who was holding onto a tightly sealed, beaten up box.

“Saw Sandy’s car out there.” Aran said, “So we gotta be quick, yeah? Don’t know where th’freak is, but ain’t no way we’re gettin’ caught by th’likes of him.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Octave mumbled as they navigated through the poster-ridden halls.

Aran started to pick up the pace.

“Seriously Aran, what gives?” Octave asked as he caught up with Aran, “I go outta my way to meet ya here after ya go ‘n make a big deal bout it, and here ya are twenty minutes later. Did ya need all that extra time to find a clear pair of clothes or somethin’?”

This was probably one of the few times Octave’s actually seen Aran in something that wasn’t stained or ripped. Sleek purple shorts with yellow stripes running down their sides? Red tennis shoes that didn’t look like they were falling apart? A green, wrinkle-free shirt with a small four leaf clover embroidered on it? Not to mention his hair looked like it had gone through a couple strokes of a comb. Aran didn’t even put this much effort into their nights out.

Aran clicked his tongue, “Awh, poor t’ing havin’ t’wait an extra minute.”

Octave narrowed his eyes. Aran scoffed.

“If y’have t’know, m’sister wanted t’go to ‘er friend’s house, so I hadda walk ‘er.”

“How touchin’.” Octave rolled his eyes, “Next time why don’tcha gimme a heads up so I ain’t standin’ around like a dolt?”

“Calm down, ain’t like I left ye for dead. ‘Sides,” Aran gave the box a little shake, “stopped by th’store on m’way here.” A smirk spread across his face, “Got t’pick up a few extra t’ings for our good ol’ pal Bear Hugger.”

~ ~ ~ ~

“...It’s not like I mind wakin’ up early, but late night interviews ‘n all that are sorta my thing, you know?” Sandman spoke into his flip phone as he leaned against the drabby-green wall of the WVBA’s private halls.

There were a set of doors not even five feet away from him with the symbols: F1 painted on them. And outside those doors? Probably hundreds of people waiting for him to step out and answer their millions of questions. Millions of questions that Sandman didn’t have the energy for at this time of day.

“Yes,” Joe replied, “I guess whatever those journalists need to ask must be important. I can’t really think of any other reason why the higher ups would approve of such an early meeting time.”

“Yeah.” Sandman gripped onto his yellow boxer shorts, wrinkling them further. While dragging himself to the stadium at 6AM wasn’t the worst thing in the world, he’d still prefer to be in bed right now. “I think the new guy helped schedule the interviews.” He put a hand on his hips, “Would explain why they ain’t happenin’ at night.”

“New guy?” Joe repeated, “Does he wear glasses? Has a WVBA star always pinned onto him?”

Sandman thought to himself for a moment, “Sounds like him.”

“That explains it–and he isn’t that new. I think he’s been here for nearly half a year.”

“Still pretty new. You spoke to the guy before?”  

Joe sighed, “Yes, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, but he is… A little bit too energetic for my taste.”

“Really?” Sandman raised his brows, but before he could get another word in, the doors opened. Hundreds of voices came rushing into the hall. A WVBA employee popped their head inside.

“Sir,” The employee said, their voice barely audible through the screams, “we need you out in five minutes.”

Sandman pulled away from his phone, “Right. I’ll be there in a sec. Havin’ an important call with someone right now.”

The employee nodded and slipped away. The door closed, and Sandman was left alone with the sound of muffled screams.

Sandman brought his phone back to his ear just in time to hear Joe snicker.

“Oh, look at me, I’m more important than Sandman’s interviews.”

Sandman chuckled, “Yeah you are.”

Sandman’s eyes traveled to the bottom of the doors. The flashes of cameras could be seen through the cracks.

“Any plans today?” Sandman asked.

“I’m thinking of buying another plant, and maybe some of those chocolates I like.”  

“Th’ones with the pink wrappers to ‘em? The expensive ones?”

“Yes, yes, I think I deserve a little something sweet after losing my poor tree.” Joe said.

“You mourning?”

“More than you can imagine.” Joe sniffled dramatically, “But what about you? After the interviews, of course.”

“Gonna go home ‘n eat somethin’. Probably a slice of that bread we made. Gettin’ hungry.”

“What did you have for breakfast?” Joe asked.

It was silent for a second.

“Sandman.”

“Nothin’.” He finally answered.

“Nothing?!” Joe exclaimed, his voice getting distorted through the phone, “Not even water?!”

“I couldn’t find my water bottle.” Sandman shrugged.

“You don’t need to drink water only through your water bottle! Don’t you have 50 cups in that fridge you can use?”

“Yeah, but those are for not water. Water doesn’t taste right if I don’t got it in my bottle.”

“It’s still the same water, Sandman!”

“Look, I just got more exquisite taste.” Sandman said. He smirked when he heard Joe sputter.

“Exquisite?!” Joe sputtered for another second, “Sandman, you–!”

“Oh snap, I gotta get to the interview.” Sandman drifted his phone away from his ear as Joe kept ranting, “I’ll talk to ya later. Have a good one.”

Joe let out a quiet huff and a ‘You too.’

Sandman hung up and went to put his phone in his pocket–but then he stopped.

He stared at his gym shorts.

Right.

No pockets.

He’ll just… Hold onto it then. Hide it with his hand and hope no crazy fan tries to take it from him.

Sandman rolled back his shoulders and cocked his head at a sharp angle. He heard a loud crack. A sting of pain jolted through him, waking him up a bit more.

He pressed his hand against the cold metal doors and pushed them open.

The moment he stepped out, the stadium lights blinded him.

He tried to shield his eyes with one hand, but the camera flashes weren’t making things any easier. He could hardly see a thing in front of him.

He peeked through the cracks of his fingers and was able to make out the silhouettes of security guards. Some were standing by the red, velvet ropes trying to hold back the crowd, while others were guiding him to where he needed to be.

Sandman tilted his head to the right, catching glimpses of journalists and photographers shoving each other just so they could be an inch closer to him. He watched as fans ran across the first floor and joined the rest of the crowd in hopes of seeing a sliver of him.

He could hear people screaming at security, demanding they be allowed past the ropes, some even threw a couple of hits at the guards in an attempt to pass, only to get immediately dragged out of the stadium kicking and screaming. Sandman cringed at it all. He wasn’t sure how much those guards were paid, but it probably wasn’t enough.

Sandman brought his eyes back to the front and saw what the stadium’s staff members had set up for him.

It wasn’t anything too fancy. A thin, dark blue carpet that had been rolled out with the WVBA’s logo on it, which was surrounded by light blue stars. On top of that was a black director’s chair, also with the logo on it, and then there was the light orange backdrop. Surprisingly, that didn’t have the stadium’s logo, but instead his name plastered everywhere in a deep orange, along with little hourglasses and stars. It was simple, just how Sandman liked it.

As he grew closer to the set up, he started to rehearse the answers he had planned in his head.

He wasn’t sure what this interview was going to be about, he was kinda left in the dark, honestly.

He was probably going to be asked about his latest fight–the one from a couple weeks ago where he knocked the guy out with one punch then left in a hurry.

He remembered how many journalists kept bombarding him with questions after that fight, demanding to know where he was going, or if something ‘serious’ had happened to him. He remembered giving them quick, one word answers because he didn’t wanna run late to his lunch with Joe, which probably left a lotta those people unsatisfied.

Sandman thought about the usual questions people asked him after fights.

‘What are your thoughts on all those insults your opponent said after the fight?’ That was definitely one he was going to hear.

‘Don’t care bout them.’ Was his answer to that.

‘How long were you training for that fight?’ Was another typical question.

‘Long enough.’ Was always Sandman’s go-to.

Sandman looked at the chair the staff had set up for him. He appreciated it, but he wasn’t going to sit on it. It was too small for a man his size, and honestly, sitting down during interviews was always awkward. He tends to slouch and pick at the skin of his fingers. Then he’d end up focusing too much on the skin that he’d forget to look back at the cameras. So he’d be better off standing.

Another question ran through his mind.

‘Why did you run off after the fight?’

His face scrunched. He hoped they didn’t ask that one.

The last thing he needed this morning was people trying to pry into his life again, and no way was he going to send a bunch of crazy fans in Joe’s direction.

Sandman clutched onto his phone just a bit tighter.

Worst case, if they do ask, he’ll probably just tell them: ‘I had somewhere important to be.’ And leave it at that.

One of the guards who was guiding him motioned for him to stay put and walked off.

Sandman’s eyes followed them. They stopped next to a shorter man who wore a violet suit that looked a little too big for him. Their hair was brown, curly–or maybe it was just real messy–and… That’s all Sandman could see. The man kept his back turned to Sandman as he kept talking to the guard.

His eyes lingered on the two as shouting filled his ears. He shouldn’t be staring, but he really didn’t want to look back at the crowd and get blinded by camera lights again.

The man in the suit turned. His skin was… Beige-ish? It wasn’t completely beige, it seemed a bit richer and warmer than that, but ‘beige’ was the best color Sandman could think of.

Then Sandman saw the golden star he had pinned onto him.

The new guy–

The guard next to the new guy locked eyes with him. Sandman stiffened. They gestured towards the crowd, who’s screaming had died down to a cluttered chatter.

Sandman faced the people. They were all waiting for him to say something–anything–so the interviews could kick off.

Sandman never knew what to say at the start of these things.

He gave them a wave.

They erupted into cheers.

People started to push and shove each other again just to have their mics closer to his face. They reached their hands out to him, they threw every and any question they had, and Sandman couldn’t hear one darn thing they were saying.  

“Mr. Sandman! Mr. Sandman!” He heard a lady’s high voice holler. He looked over.

“Have you heard any of those recent, nasty threats about being beaten and having your belt taken away? Do you have any thoughts about that?” She asked with a little too much zest in her tone.

“Don’t care bout ‘em.” He said with his head raised.

Cameras flashed.

“Mr. Sandman, sir!” A man shouted as he squeezed to the front of the crowd, “You look exhausted! Have you been staying up late to train for your next fight?!”

Sandman lowered his brows. That was… A nice observation.

“First of all,” Sandman motioned to his face, “I just look like this. And I don’t need some upcomin’ fight to motivate me to work out. I’m always trainin’.” Sandman flexed his biceps.

The crowd cheered again. More cameras flashed.

“How long have you been training for!?” Another person yelled over the ruckus.

“Shoot,” Sandman put his hands on his hips, “probably since I was a kid. Picked up a pair of boxin’ gloves and haven’t stopped since.”

He’s been asked that question at least a thousand times before, but he wasn’t complaining. If anything, he preferred these sorts of questions. He could knock them out quickly, and at this rate? He should be heading home in no time.

“Is it true you’re going to be meeting your next opponent soon?!” Someone asked.

Sandman stopped.

He scanned the crowd.

Who said that?

“Why haven’t you said anything back to the other champion?” Another person asked.

Sandman’s head darted over to where he heard the voice.

What other champion?

“Are you intimidated by him?! Is that why you’ve been so quiet?” Another person said at the very end of the crowd.  

Sandman narrowed his eyes. He saw a hand shoot up into the air clutching onto a week old newspaper. The same paper Joe had shown him and called ‘blasphemy’.

“Why haven’t you spoken about him yet? Do you think you’re better than him?” Someone shouted.  

Sandman couldn’t even get a good look at the champion’s face, as the person’s hand was covering most of it.

“How do you feel about him threatening to take your belt away?!”

His body tensed.

“Do you think you stand a chance against him?”

He clenched his teeth.

“Do you have anything you’d like to say to this other champion?!”

He finally opened his mouth.

“I…”

Everyone stared at him.

“I don’t even know who that guy is.”

That was a bad answer.

That was such a bad answer, but somehow, that made the people go wild.

Reporters started screaming out more questions, fans clawed through each other to get closer to him, and the constant clicking and flashing of cameras made the scene even more chaotic, but Sandman wasn’t paying attention to any of that.

He couldn’t.

His eyes were locked onto the newspaper still held high into the air, with the obscured face of man he didn’t even know the name of.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Open yer locker.” Was the first thing Aran said to Octave as soon as they stepped into the locker room.

Octave raised a brow, “Why?”

“Cause,” Aran scoffed, “yer locker’s th’closest t’Bear’s. If someone passes by, we can jus’ say we’re organizin’ yer stuff or somethin’.”

“Sounds like an excuse to shove whatever’s in that box into my locker.” Octave scowled. He watched as Aran carefully set the box down on a metal bench. He then pulled out a bent paperclip from his pocket and turned to Bear’s locker.

Octave stared at that beaten box while Aran fiddled with the lock. He reached his hand out and pulled a flap open, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was inside… But the only thing he saw was a neatly folded, black sheet of fabric.

What, were they planning on redecorating Bear’s locker or something?

As soon as Octave went to grab the fabric, Aran’s arm shot out and crushed his wrist.

Octave immediately pulled back, “Ya mind keepin’ ya grimy hands off’a me?” He hissed.

“Ye mind keepin’ yer grimy hands outta t’at box?” Aran growled.

“I wanna see what th’heck’s inside before I go openin’ my locker for ya!”

“I ain’t gon shove anyt’ing inside yer bloody locker! Jus’ gimme one blasted second!” Aran shouted.

“Alright, alright!” Octave huffed and stormed over to his locker. He quickly opened it and waited for Aran.

A loud click came from Bear’s locker. Aran’s face lit up. He swung it open, and the smell of crushed leaves and maple syrup came pouring out of it.  

“A’ight.” Aran said to himself as he turned back to the box. He grabbed the fabric by its edges and lifted it up, revealing way too many mouse traps for one man to have, along with two rolls of clear tape. He set the fabric on the bench.

Octave peered inside. The traps all varied in size and quality. Some looked like they just came fresh out of the package, others were chipped and rusted, and some looked far too big for mice.

“So I’m thinkin’ of tapin’ a bunch’a these t’ings to th’sides of Bear’s locker, yeah?,” Aran said as he grabbed the belongings in Bear’s lockers–his gym bag, small stuffed animals, his gloves–and dumped them onto the floor, “But as I was walkin’ here, I realized t’at if we jus’ threw these t’ings inside ‘n left it at t’at, it’d be way too obvious.”

“Uh-huh.” Octave said as Aran threw out Bear’s spare pair of shoes.

“So I stopped by th’store ‘n they had some fabric on sale, so I bought a long sheet’a one ‘n an extra t’ing of tape.” Once the locker was completely cleared out, Aran grabbed the fabric and held it up, “Th’plan is: After we add th’traps inside, I’m gonna cover th’front of th’locker with this.”

“What, so we’re settin’ up a li’l surprise for him or somethin’?” Octave scoffed. That was supposed to be a joke, but Aran snapped his fingers.

“Exactly. He’s gonna open his locker, probably get all confused why t’is dumb fabric’s here, then swat at it ‘n hopefully hit several of ‘em traps.” Aran tilted his head towards the box, “Worst case, his fingers get nipped. Best case? They break.”

Octave leaned against one of the gray lockers behind him, “So did ya just need me here to open my locker?”

Aran tossed the fabric back onto the bench and pulled out a mousetrap from the box, “Ye know how t’set one’o these up?”

“Been a while.”

“A’ight.” Aran placed the mousetrap onto the palm of his hand, “Jus’ pull this bar ov’r here down ‘n hold it there.” He said as he held the hammer-bar against the wood with his thumb, “Then this bar?” He used a finger to flick up the ‘arm’ bar of the trap, “Hook it up over ‘ere. Easy.” He put the finished trap onto the bench and folded his arms.

Aran then grabbed one of the tape rolls, “If any o’yer fingers go flyin’ off, don’t go cryin’ t’me.” He yanked at the tape’s end, creating a horrible ripping sound that made Octave cringe, “Jus’ set ‘em up while I put th’tape inside.”

Octave stared into the box. He reached inside and grabbed a mousetrap–it was larger than the one Aran used, stained as well–and followed Aran’s instructions. It only took several seconds to set it up, that wasn’t so bad. Maybe he’ll finish this sooner than he thought.

He put his finished trap next to Aran’s.  

He watched Aran for a moment. He was folding the pieces of torn tape and smacking them onto the walls. That’s one way to do it.  

Octave picked up another trap and prepared it.

Aran tore off another piece of tape and repeated the process. He didn’t seem to measure out the length of each strip or how far they’d be from each other, but measurements were probably the least of Aran’s concerns.

Octave picked up another trap and prepared it.

He wondered if Aran had anything prepared for Hondo. Hopefully he does, because the second Bear gets hurt, Eyebrows is gonna rush to his rescue and coddle the big guy like he always does.

Octave picked up another trap and prepared it.

Octave picked up his phone by the neck and took it off the end table. He brought it closer to him as he readjusted his position on the couch. He laid on his side while Tiger ranted to him.

“...The fact he got so–so snarky all because the cake Bear brought wasn’t up to his standards–on Bear’s birthday still baffles me to this day!”

Octave scoffed, “Yup, sounds like somethin’ Donny would do.” He rested his head on his arm, “Can’t imagine havin’ to constantly put up with a guy who throws a fit over that sorta stuff.”

“Oh, I prefer it much more than Hondo’s frustration.” Tiger said.

“Hondo? What, can’t stand th’way his brows move either?”

“No, it’s–oh, I don’t think you were in the Major Circuit yet but–I won’t go too much into it, but he used to get so, so vicious.”  

“Really?” Octave leaned closer to the phone, “Ya know, I think I might’ve seen a li’l bit of him gettin’ angry once when I was climbin’ my way through th’circuits.”   “Is that so?”

“Yeah. Don’t remember how far back, but I remember I was gettin’ lunch, ‘n it was kind of a busy day so I got somethin’ from the cafeteria, right?” He brought a knee up as he spoke, “I go to th’tables in th’back ‘n I saw Pisty sittin’ at one of ‘em. I go over there to sit next to him ‘n ya know what th’chump did? He got up and moved away! Some preschool stuff right there, lemme tell ya.”

“I’m sorry, he did what?” Tiger sputtered. He hesitated for a moment before he carried on, “But no, no. That sounds… Rude, but far different from the outbursts he used to have.”

“Really? What were they like then?”

“Oh, it’s behind us now, and besides, Hondo wouldn’t appreciate me talking about this.” Tiger said.

“Not like he’s here right now.”

“Regardless.”

A part of Octave still wanted to hear more, “Was he worse than Bull?”

“Worse than Bull–?!” Tiger sounded as if he were offended by that question, “Please, the only time I’ve seen Bull get angry is when the paparazzi follow him home. Outside of that, he’s wonderful to be around, truly.”

“Really.” Octave lowered his brows, “Bald Bull, th’guy who bangs his head against ring posts. Alright.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” The impatience in Tiger’s voice rose.

“I mean–c’mon, ya seen Bull in th’ring? Guy’s kind of a nutcase–”

“It’s called a character, Overload.”

“Even outside of th’ring!” Octave argued, “All those papers bout him yellin’ at everyone ‘n kickin’ up a storm, just cause he’s nice round y–”

“Oh, yes, the papers.” Tiger sneered, “The papers written by the same people who do nothing but follow Bull around all day, invade his privacy, and constantly bombard him with ridiculous questions. Truly such reliable sources.”

Octave pinched the bridge of his nose, “Look, all I’m sayin’ is even if people are exaggeratin’ his anger, pretty sure there’s some truth to it.”

“Have you even tried to talk to him?” Tiger asked.

“Nah, I value my life.”

Tiger didn’t even chuckle at Octave’s comment.

“Well, there’s your issue.” Tiger said, “I promise you, if you took the time out of your day to get to know him, you’d see he’s a very kind man. Far different from the way he presents himself in the ring.”

The corners of Octave’s mouth curled into a frown as Tiger kept talking.

“Do you believe Kaiser makes cuckoo-clock sounds when he’s outside of fights? Or that Bear constantly sticks his tongue out at people, and that maple leaves fall from him every time he’s knocked down? Or what about Aran-?”

Octave’s grip on the phone tightened.

“I might not think the best of Aran, but you’re friends with him. You seem to enjoy his company. Surely he acts differently outside of the ring as well, hm?”

Octave inhaled through his teeth, “He’s…”

He looked back at Aran, who was now taping the mouse traps inside the locker.

“He’s somethin’.”

“All I’m saying is to give Bull a chance, hm?” Tiger hummed, “I’m certain you don’t like it when people believe you’re–”

Octave cut Tiger off, “Alright, I get it. Ya made ya dang point.”

He didn’t care how snappy he sounded. He wanted to move past this stupid conversation. He wanted to keep talking about Don being overdramatic, or Hondo’s pettiness, not whatever this was.

“How’d we get so off topic from th’dang dinner?” He muttered to himself as he sat back up.

“Dinner?” Tiger mumbled, “Oh, the dinner! We really did get side tracked, didn’t we? I don’t know how we went from the bar, to Don, to–”

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’s fine. How bout we do lunch?” Octave said. He didn’t want to risk their talk about Bull coming up again, “I’m free round th’middle of the week, you?”

Tiger thought to himself for a moment, “I should be as well.”

“We’re still gonna meet at th’control booth, yeah?”

“Yes! We can go to the one in the Major Circuit.” Tiger said, “Will you be alright meeting after 1:30? The lunch rush should be over by then.”

“Do I gotta dress all nice again for ya?” Octave asked. He brought his head up and looked at his TV screen again.

“Oh, no, no, no.” Tiger chuckled, “Don’t worry about that. As long as you arrive, that’s all that matters. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Yeah,” Octave said as he stared at his reflection, “same here. See ya then.”

A sudden snap followed by a slew of curses ripped Octave out of his thoughts. He whipped his head over to Aran, who had his back pressed against the lockers and angrily glared down at a mousetrap on the floor.

It must’ve gone off while Aran was handling it. At least all his fingers were still intact.

Aran grumbled to himself as he picked the trap off the ground and set it back up. He then pressed it against a piece of tape on the far back wall of Bear’s locker.

Octave looked into the now empty box before he looked to the locker. He was admittedly a little impressed at how Aran managed to fit so many traps inside. Even though it was a little sloppy–and some traps were jutting out at odd angles–nearly every inch of the locker walls had been covered by them, save for its top and bottom.  

Aran then grabbed Bear’s belongings and carefully placed them back inside the lockers. After that, he turned to the bench where several more traps were.

“Wanna shove ‘em back in th’box?” Octave asked.

“Nah.” Aran picked up the traps and started slipping them into Bear’s gym bag and gloves, “Don’t wanna waste ‘em. Toss me th’fabric.”

Octave did so. Aran caught it then held it against the locker’s ceiling with one hand.

“Tape.”

“A ‘please’ ain’t gonna kill ya, Aran.” Octave rolled his eyes, but he grabbed the roll and ripped out a couple strips anyway. He handed them to Aran one by one. Aran pressed the tape along the edges of the fabric until he was satisfied.

Aran took a step back. The inside of the locker was now completely hidden behind the taut fabric. A smirk made its way across his face.  

“A’ight. We’re done ‘ere.” Aran closed Bear’s locker. Octave closed his.

Aran then flashed Octave a smile, “Thanks for th’help, bud.” He threw the tape rolls back into the box, “Couldn’t have done it without’cha.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Sandman stood in front of a wooden office door on the third floor. Sunlight poured in from the windows behind him and hit his back. He could feel beads of sweat starting to form.

He slouched slightly so he could get a better look through the door’s narrow window.

The new guy was in there. Sandman watched as he stood by his desk and sorted papers–alright, he wasn’t exactly ‘sorting’ them, more like tossing them into three separate piles, but the piles were getting so disorganized that they ended up looking like one big pile.

Sandman then glanced at the nameplate beside the door; ‘Recruiter’.

He straightened his posture.

He rehearsed what he was gonna tell the new guy in his head for the fiftieth time, ‘Hey sir, sorry for popping in like this, just wanted to ask if this other champion’s gonna be heading to the stadium anytime soon?’

That sounded good.

Quick, to the point, formal-ish. That works–

His phone let out a ping. He uncurled his hand and flipped it open.

‘Sandman, you will not believe what Bear Hugger just told me.’ Joe texted him, ‘Do you remember that dinner he said he was going to?’

Sandman huffed and silenced his phone. He felt kinda bad, but now wasn’t the time.

He knocked on the door.

“Come in!” A high, energetic voice called out.

Sandman opened the door, “Hey sir,” He stepped inside, “sorry for poppin’ in like this, but–”

The new guy let out a loud gasp.

Sandman watched the guy stumbled back into his desk, knocking over papers and a couple of official WVBA-themed cups.

“Hey, you uh–ya good? Need help pickin’ those up?” Sandman asked. The man just kept staring at him with wide eyes and an opened mouth.

“Mister… Mr. Sandman.” The man finally whispered.

Sandman’s eyes awkwardly darted around, “Yeah?”

“You’re–you’re actually here. Right now. In my office.” He clutched at his chest, his voice a quivering whisper, “I didn’t think I’d get to talk to you in person until–”

Before Sandman could ask if the guy was going to be alright, he suddenly scrambled back to his feet and frantically started to clean the papers and cups off the floor.

“Oh, I am so, so sorry for the mess! It usually isn’t this dirty here, I swear!” The guy said as he threw the fallen papers onto the desk, along with a couple other files that had been left on the ground for who knows how long, “Come in, come in!”

Sandman took another step in–

“No, wait! Don’t come in! It’s too messy here–could we have a do over?” He asked, hugging some papers close to his chest, “You could wait outside for five minutes, I can clean up and–oh, what am I saying?! I can’t just kick the champion out of my office!”

“Hey, it’s good. I don’t mind the mess.” Sandman said. It’s not like his bedroom was any better.

His eyes scanned around the place. This guy had… A lot of merchandise.

His dark brown, wooden desk had several types of WVBA cups–some ranging from tall, sleek glass to thick, short mugs–and inside some of those cups were pencils and pens with the WVBA’s logo on them. There were a couple of boxer bobbleheads placed beside a closed laptop–really wonky looking bobbleheads that Sandman wished he could forget about–heck, even the laptop had WVBA stickers slapped onto it.

“Still!” The man said as he started shoving a couple of files onto the white shelves that ran along the left wall, “I should always make sure this room looks presentable, especially when you’re here and–and oh!”

The guy hugged himself and started to bounce around, “I just can’t believe you’re really here right now!” He dashed back to his desk and grabbed a few more files for his shelves, “Have a seat! I’ll only be one more second, I swear!”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks though.” Sandman stared at the guy’s shelves. They were also filled with merchandise. Carefully folded shirts and hoodies, limited edition boxing gloves with the logo slapped in the middle of them, several different soda bottles that Popinski’s promoted, books about boxing, the guy even had cigarette boxes with boxers’ faces on them. How in the world did he get those? Last time Sandman saw them on the shelves was when he was a kid.

Sandman watched the man run around his office. His energy kinda reminded him of Disco Kid.

“I just wanted to ask if–”

The man suddenly shoved the back of a clipboard in Sandman’s face, “Could you sign my board please, sir?”

Sandman tilted his head away from the board and raised a brow. He looked at the permanent marker the man held out for him and hesitantly plucked it. He then looked back to the clipboard.

He saw Joe’s signature on there–in elegant cursive, as always–along with Kaiser and Disco Kid’s, who doodled some sparkles next to his name. Bear Hugger’s was there as well, he even included a little drawing of a maple leaf, and there was… A very sloppy scribble right under that. The only letter he could make out was a ‘P’, so that had to be Popinski’s, and…

“What’s with the bite mark?” Sandman pointed to the bottom right corner of the board that had been bitten off, “King Hippo do that?”

“Aran Ryan!” The man answered a little too happily.

“Right.” Sandman said. He signed the clipboard.

The man hugged it to his chest, “Thank you so much, sir! Really! Honestly!”

Sandman gave him a nod. He got a better look at the man’s appearance.

His violet suit was… Really vibrant. It kind of stung Sandman’s eyes, honestly. His square framed glasses were black, as were his pants and shoes, his hair kinda reminded Sandman of caramel? It was some shade of brown. Actually, it reminded him of the sort of coffee Joe liked to have.

Sandman brought his eyes to the man’s–but he quickly looked away when he saw how big and excited they were. There were probably sparkles in those eyes.

He looked back to the suit and saw that star pin Joe had mentioned earlier.

It was golden, though bits of its paint had chipped off, and the edges were dulled. In the center of the star were the letters “WVBA” chiseled into them. Nothing fancy, but Sandman couldn’t help but notice how old it looked. That dang pin was probably older than him.

Sandman then saw the nametag just below the pin.

“Hey, look…” Sandman narrowed his eyes to get a better look at the nametag, “Jerry?”

“It’s Terry, sir.” Terry said, “But if you like Jerry, I can be Jerry for you!”

“Please don’t be Jerry.”

“You got it, sir! Now what can I help you with?” Terry asked as he set his clipboard aside, “Did you want to discuss possible poster designs for your next fight? I already got a few ideas in mind–I know I still need to talk to the graphic design team about them, but if you wanna take a peek–”

Sandman put the marker on the desk, “I just wanted to talk about the interviews and–”

“The interviews!” Terry clasped his hands together, “Oh, sir, you did fantastic in those!”

Sandman raised a brow, “Felt like it could’ve gone better. Wish I knew what they were gonna be about beforehand.”

He felt like his answers could’ve been better.

“Are you crazy? You knocked it out of the park, the people loved what you had to say! I mean–” Terry started to pace back and forth on the blue carpet, “The Mr. Sandman calling another champion a nobody?! If I were that champion, I would’ve cried! I’m about to cry right now!”

“That’s–that’s great.” How the heck was Sandman even supposed to respond to that. He opened his mouth again, but Terry spun back around.

“And believe me, I really wanted to tell you about that other champion guy, but the higher ups told me to hold back because they wanted an authentic reaction from you and boy, am I sure glad they stopped me!”

“I didn’t even say that much.” Sandman shrugged.

“That’s alright!” Terry beamed, “That’s more than alright. Less is more, as they say! And with all those nasty looks you gave throughout the interview? You made it loud and clear how you feel about that champion.”

Sandman blinked. ‘Nasty’? He didn’t mean to look nasty. He was just confused.

“Plus, now you know what to look forward to for the next interviews. Now you can get ready for some more trash talking, building up more excitement for your next match, and–!” Terry swung his fists around as if he were a boxer, “Oh, it’s just going to be so exciting when that champion finally comes over!”

“Yeah, hey, speaking of which. Is that champion gonna be comin’ here any time soon?” Sandman asked.

“Hopefully!” Terry smiled, “I know some of the higher ups are talking to the other stadium’s representatives, so I can’t say for certain…” He stroked his chin, “But rest assured sir, when that guy comes over here, you’ll be the first to know!”

Terry walked over to the right side of the room. There was a corkboard slapped in the middle of the wall with a calendar pinned onto it. Surrounding that calendar were a bunch of keychains and pins. And surrounding that corkboard? Hundreds of boxing posters.

Terry started to flip through the calendar, “I mean, even when he does come here, we’ll still have to talk to the other boxers and schedule their fights with him–but we’ll get there when we get there.”

Hearing that sent a wave of reassurance through Sandman.

His shoulders relaxed. The tightness of his chest faded away. He took a deep breath.

Terry’s right.

That champion’s gonna have to fight his way through the other circuits first. That gives Sandman plenty of time to prepare for him–and that’s if the champion can make it past the other boxers.

“Was I able to answer all your questions for you?” Terry asked, looking away from his calendar.

Sandman was pretty sure he only got to ask one, but he nodded, “Yup. Heard what I needed to hear. Thank ya for your time, sir.”

Terry gasped again, “...Called me ‘sir’...” Was all Sandman could hear from him.

Sandman waved, “You have a good day.”

“Bye! You too!” Terry waved back frantically, “Thanks so much for stopping by again! Looking forward to your next fight! Goodbye!”

Sandman clicked the door shut, muffling Terry’s goodbyes.

He leaned against the wall and sighed.

He uncurled his fist and flipped his phone open. He grinned when he saw Joe was still sending him essays about what Bear Hugger told him.

He pushed himself off the wall and started walking down the hall, eyes glazing over the texts. He found his mind still lingering on the champion. On the interviews. Just thinking about what the next weeks had in store for him was starting to make his heart race, and he didn’t know why.

He was probably gonna get asked millions of questions, put up with a bunch of crazy fans, and deal with that other champion trash talking him–the same thing he puts up with for every other opponent he’s faced, yet just thinking about it all made his stomach turn.

He shouldn’t be feeling this way.

He had no reason to.

Maybe he was just hungry.

Maybe once he eats something, he’ll feel much better. Then he can carry on with his day, talk to his friends, work out, maybe take a few naps, and everything will be just fine.

[petrichorium]

hi my dear Pluvi, i have a lil question for you 🤍

what was your first time with Capitano like?૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა

🫣 I have talked abt Many aspects of this before but I’m happy to yap more LMFAOOOOOOO

It is. A long time coming it’s a few yrs into our marriage + many, many years into capitano pining after me so there’s A Lot of pent-up lust there I’m afraid JENCKSNFKE starts off w a very heated (on my side) discussion on the balcony off my room when he gets home from a campaign, that’s where I first kiss him and where he gets his lil “if you don’t stop I won’t be able to hold back” moment.

It genuinely is a dam bursting moment I am entirely blown away by how passionate he is bc??? It’s been yrs and he’s been so distant n stoic and honestly a bit cold??? I’ve almost wondered if he was ignoring me and now here he is acting like kissing me is more important than breathing and he cannot possibly get close enough oop. In fact he gets the whole recreate our hypothetical wedding night idea (from this post) when he picks me up n takes me back inside and then it takes him So Long to get to the door n fetch a maid bc he’ll go to pull away and then come back half a second later LOL insanity.

But eventually a maid Does show up w my wedding dress (and lingerie) and I swear 2 god he almost bites the poor girl’s head off when she lingers n I have to b like omfg she’s waiting to help me into it go wait in your room and he’s like 🙄 no I’m doing that she can gtfo (and getting me into my wedding dress is an even more difficult feat v much just. Foreplay icl)

Anyway. capitano and I r Insanely Vanilla like even for me and u know I am such a Vanilla Girly LMFAOOOOOOO that first night is v much soft n romantic n passionate. Hes got me so fucked out there aren’t even alarm bells ringing when I hear all the Frankly Troubling musings he’s muttering into my pussy 🫣 I wake up the afternoon after sore n sticky n held in a strangle grip that I have to pry myself out of to get to the bathroom—and then as soon as I’ve cleaned myself up enough to send for maids to bathe me Guess Who Is Storming In To Insist He Will Do That Instead (and predictably that spirals into round……. good lord who can keep track). Rinse and repeat for—and I’m being so serious—like a week straight. He’s making up for lost time 😵‍💫

When he finally is forced to let me have a breather on account of a ball we r required to attend I learn that we r the talk of the capital bc the manor staff & the fatui agents stationed at said manor have Absolutely yapped to like. Everyone. Even the other harbingers r making comments. I Want To Die. Capitano is way too smug. That’s all I promise 🫠

[transformers-platonic]

Could I get a scenario with TFP Arcee, discovering that her human friend/reader insert got mind controlled by Decepticons?

Thank you for the request. There are some angst themes in this so be aware if you’re not ready to read that right now.

Arcee frowned as she saw you at the base.

“Arcee, you okay?” Jack asked. He followed her gaze to you.

“Does Y/N seem off to you?” Arcee asked.

“A bit distant, I guess.” Jack replied, “Maybe they’re just tired.”

“I hope that’s it.” Arcee said.

Arcee was going on patrol to look for you, wondering where you went off to when she saw you talking to Megatron.

“Now, I want you to spy on them and create documents of their plans.” He said. “I’ll have a vehicon meet here each day at dusk. Hand over any info to him.”

“Yes, Lord Megatron.” You said.

Arcee grabbed you. “What do you think you’re doing?” She growled.

“Looks like your little friend decided to join us.” Megatron said. “Can’t say I blame them.”

Arcee glared at him. There was something in his smirk that she didn’t quite place.

She took you to base. “They betrayed us, I saw them agreeing to give Megatron info.

“Why would you do such a thing?” Optimus asked. You stared blankly at him.

“Something seems off; I want to to a medical scan before determining any course of action.” Ratchet said.

Arcee handed you to Ratchet. She then stormed outside.

Optimus followed.

“Arcee, I understand this is difficult for you.” He started.

“I knew something was up.” Arcee replied, shaking her head, “I just can’t believe they’d betray us like that.”

“We cannot jump to conclusions until we recive Ratchet’s report.” Optimus said.

“With all due respect, you’re too idealistic. Y/N betrayed us.” Arcee replied. “The Con’s can’t control people. At worst they made Y/N lose their memories which… they don’t have the experience you do so they’re not likely to help the ‘Cons in that case.”

“I cannot stop you from thinking what you do, however, I will ask that you refrain from taking any action until we can discuss the report as a team.” Optimus replied.

“Fine.” Arcee said; “But when we find out that slagheap betrayed us, I won’t hold back.”

“If that turns out to be the case, we will deal with it.” Optimus replied.

Ratchet called a meeting hours later.

He sighed as he looked at the group. “Y/N was under mind control. They still are under the effects.”

Arcee slumped backwards, the words she said to Optimus running though her processor.

“Is there a way to reverse it?” Smokescreen asked.

“Yes, but I will need help. If Y/N knows what we’re going to do, they will fight back and try to escape.” Ratchet said.

“How did this happen?” Bee asked.

“They were probably caught while being out alone.” Arcee replied, her eyes lowered to the floor, “They told me they walk alone at night a lot; I tried to talk them out of it.”

Jack placed a hand on her arm.

Arcee looked at Ratchet, “I’ll help. I owe it to them.”

Ratchet nodded.

They entered the room. You were still locked in a chamber.

“So, what are you going to do to me?” You snarled at them.

“We have one more test.” Ratchet said.

“I don’t want any more!” You shouted.

“I’m sorry, just this one.” Ratchet said.

You hit your fists on the glass while Ratchet prepared a formula.

“You slagheaps, this is why the ‘Cons will win!” You shouted.

Arcee looked away.

“It’s ready.” Ratchet said. “Arcee, stay on standby in the event they escape.”

“What’s ready?” You ask. “I thought Optimus was too soft to hurt anyone.”

“It won’t hurt.” Arcee promised.

Ratchet pressed the button and a light appered. It shone over the chamber. Arcee looked away hearing you scream.

“Primus.” She muttered, trembling.

The light faded and Arcee rushed to you the second Ratchet nodded, saying it was safe to do so.

She picked you up protectively as you opened your eyes, “Arcee? What happened?”

“The ‘Cons used mind control on you. You’re alright now.” Her voice was quiet.

“No one got hurt, right?” You ask, sitting up.

“Fortunately not.” Ratchet spoke up, “We found you while you were still listening to Megatron’s plan.”

You smiled. “That’s good at least; maybe I should back off on the late night walks.”

“Tell you what, when you need to. Let me know and I’ll follow at a distance.” Arcee said.

That evening, you saw Arcee outside. “Are you okay?” You asked in a low voice.

Arcee sighed, “I didn’t realize what happened, I thought you betrayed us. I called you a slagheap to Optimus and was convinced that I’d have to get revenge.”

Your eyes widened in surprise before you shook you head and walked to her. “It made sense to think that. I’m just glad it worked out.” You placed a hand on her arm.

“So am I.” Arcee agreed with a smile.

[thestalwartheart]

For the one word prompts, if you have time and are so inspired: 00Q "storm"

I have time and was very inspired. Thanks to you and @mr-iskender for sending in the prompt for storm! You can read the fill for it below or on AO3.

Enjoy! 💖

“I can’t say this is exactly how I’d pictured passing my time here,” sighs Q, sinking onto a purposefully-gathered pile of cushions.

Bond hums in agreement. “I pictured you in the bed, not on the floor.”

“Well, personally, I think that shows a complete lack of imagination,” replies Q, failing to hold back a smile of his own.

If his smile is a bit nervous, it’s only because outside, working its way through the beautiful tropical waters of the Caribbean, there’s an oncoming tropical storm. Bond hadn’t seemed fazed by the news alerts warning it might turn into a hurricane. It’s what he’d installed all the shutters for. Q, however…well, he’ll stick with describing this as a novel experience and try not to think too much more about it.

Bond has assured him he’s perfectly safe. They have plenty of food and water, the shutters are in place, the power is off, and Bond has removed any nearby outdoor obstacles. He’d ensured all of that after helping a dozen or so other locals prepare for the oncoming bad weather, a mission which had only made the fizzing, adoring warmth in Q’s chest even more pronounced.

(It had taken everything in him not to jump Bond the minute he saw him hauling great buckets of water in a threadbare grey t-shirt earlier, his biceps bulging and a cheeky look in his eye as if he knew precisely what Q was thinking.)

Yet even for all their preparations, the trees around the house loom large and threatening in Q’s imagination. They're nature's future weapons, and completely out of his and Bond’s control. Moreover, it’s not exactly comforting knowing they’re essentially sitting over a lagoon. Q can hear the blowing gale whipping up waves in it now.

“Remind me why we didn’t just leave?” asks Q, for what must be the dozenth time.

Bond settles down next to him and pulls him close. “Because we’re safe. And because if we’d left, we’d be very far away from a private bed to distract ourselves in.”

“Oh, well, I see you’ve got your priorities straight.”

Bond huffs, amused. “Not sure I’d call them straight.”

The next half hour passes in much the same fashion: with a lot of banter, a few kisses to calm Q’s nerves, and a couple of beers to calm them further. At dusk, when the light starts fading, Bond arranges an astonishing number of battery-powered, flameless candles around the place. The resulting atmosphere is lovely, even as wind batters the roof and the water sloshes angrily outside. Light flickers off the house’s wooden beams and casts long shadows across the room. It makes every book and ornament look larger. Grander. Most lovely of all, though, is the way it dances over the golden, lined terrain of Bond’s face and warms those famous blue eyes. Watching it distracts Q for countless minutes that would have otherwise been filled with anxiety.

Bond notices, of course. The corners of his mouth curl upwards, pleased.

“Are you normally frightened of storms?” he enquires a while later, turning to Q when they’re stretched out horizontally amongst the cushions on the floor.

“No, not at home. It’s not quite the same, though, is it?”

They don’t get storms like this in London. They hardly get storms at all. If they do, it’s with a distant crack of thunder, a few almost imperceptible flashes of lightning, and maybe some heavy rain. The latter is never too far removed from the country’s usual bad weather. The last storm he remembers living through at home was relatively calming. It had provided an excellent excuse to relax in the bath, stick his nose in a book, and then curl up with the cats, who were a bit fretful at the time.

He feels a delayed pang of sympathy for them. Q hadn’t understood what there was to be scared of until now. He’s surprised the roof on this house isn’t leaking.

“Come here,” coaxes Bond.

He pulls Q into a tight embrace, tangling their legs together and moving his hands soothingly over Q’s back. As pleasant as it is, Q resists. It feels a lot like coddling.

“I’m not irrationally afraid,” he snaps. I’ve seen the statistics on hurricanes in this part of the world. If you’d like to hear the numbers—”

“Q.”

“—I can quote them for you. Or perhaps you might like to know—”

“Q.”

“—what happens in situations where supplies run out, and aid can’t get through—”

“Q.”

Bond presses his thumb against Q’s mouth. Feeling offended, Q has the mad urge to bite down on it. He tamps down on that. Bond would probably enjoy it too much.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Bond assures him.

“You’re not in control of nature, James.”

“No, I’m not, but I’ve lived through plenty worse than this. The house will be fine. We’ll be fine.”

Bond’s hand moves from Q’s mouth to his cheek. It feels broad and warm there. Slightly clammy, too. It’s a humid night, after all—a night for taking one’s clothes off, as Bond had remarked earlier.

Regardless of Q’s thoughts on the matter, Bond is evidently done talking because the kiss he draws Q into is hot and needy. Q has little choice (and no will at all) to do anything other than to submit to it, though soon he’s pressing hard at Bond’s chest to roll him over onto his back.

“There you are,” teases Bond. “That’s better.”

“Well, you’ve been gasping for a shag all day,” sighs Q, feigning being put upon. “Who am I to deny you?”

He’s not lying. This morning, before all the storm preparations, Bond had chased him into the outdoor shower and made a great show of lathering himself up. They hadn’t had time to indulge in anything more than a wash, then. Nor had they had much time in the intervening hours, which were spent either around other people, pretending like they weren’t fucking like rabbits in their ample spare time, or busily readying the house. There had been one memorable moment where, in the middle of shuttering the windows, Bond pressed Q up against the glass and whispered captivating, obscene things into his ear.

I could take you right here. You’d look beautiful in this light.

You could watch the sunset while I pressed my fingers into you.

I’d move slowly. I wonder how long it would take for your knees to buckle and for me to have to hold you up.

In the end, the oncoming storm clouds decided the matter for them. But Q, safe now and finally starting to believe in that safety, very much wants to continue with those earlier thoughts. Maybe he’ll be the one to move slowly and deeply into Bond. He’d certainly enjoyed it the last time Q turned things around.

Q, his head full of those thoughts, is leaning down for another filthy kiss when Bond’s phone pings. They turn their heads to look at it together. Lit up brightly is a weather notification telling them the storm’s category is being downgraded. Q feels the air around him clear a little.

“That’s good news,” he sighs.

“Yes,” agrees Bond, his voice low and husky. “Now, where were we?”

Leaning in again, Q whispers, “I remember perfectly well where we were.”

He takes Bond’s bottom lip briefly between his teeth and pulls, then captures Bond’s lush mouth properly in a kiss as hot and demanding as the wind outside.

All in all, Q thinks, he’s had worse times weathering a storm.

[fistsoflightning]

sudden deluge

for wolcredweek day 4: rain/sparks

i think everyone should know this one was saved as was ‘thunderclap to ur bf to hug him’

“Looks to be clearing up,” Thancred said, peering through the window across the room, and leaned his shoulder against the wall beside it, arms crossed over his chest. True to his word, when they glanced up the thunderstorm had died down enough that it was only drizzling over the Crystarium, the afternoon skies gone a light bluish-grey with the clouds. “If only you’d seen Captain Lyna’s face when I told her I could take care of the storm.”

Their hands were still occupied toweling off their hair, but Zaya huffed and rolled their eyes from where they were sitting, knowing they were just at the edge of Thancred’s field of vision even half-turned to the window. It was the Scions’ collective delusion that they were the cause of any unnatural or frequent storms in the area—weather was so fickle, and only bowed in the face of immense aetherial disruption, or whatever Urianger had said. After a hundred years of Light of course the weather would be strange, now that it wasn’t being forcefully dragged into eternal stillness.

Still. It did tend to rain a lot when they wanted to go adventuring, especially when they weren’t looking for it. There was only so much they could write off as bad luck before they started to wonder.

They bent over to comfortably dry the back of their head with the too-large towel; it draped over their forehead and caught on the tips of their horns. “You di’n’t do anything,” they said, muffled but teasing. It was nice to hear him not calling himself useless for once—or unneeded, or other words with similar meanings—but this was a little silly. Probably why he was able to do so, but still.

“I came to get you with an umbrella.”

“Still soaked.”

Thancred paused thoughtfully. “Here I thought that was on purpose,” he said, his voice too close to actual remorse, “but if not I apologize for my late arrival. Never studied the weather in Sharlayan, I’m afraid; I was hardly expecting the cloudburst either.”

“‘s okay,” they said, reaching back with both hands to wring their hair in the towel one last time. A haircut might be nice, soon, but they liked how long it was now even if it was a nuisance when wet. “I did stay in it f’r a bit. Was nice.”

He laughed softly. “It is rather warm today, isn’t it? Ryne’ll be complaining about how humid it is later, I’m sure.”

Zaya made a small noise in acknowledgement, finally freeing themselves from the formerly-white towel; they’d forgotten about their face paint earlier, distracted by all the water dripping down their chin, and now there was a blue smudge smack in the middle of it. Thancred hadn’t seemed to care, though, only giving it a amused look before he walked over to the window. Satisfied that their hair wasn’t dripping onto the shoulders of the dry shirt they’d changed into, they reached down for their shoes to dry off the insides, then glanced up again at the window, and to Thancred.

He was still looking out the tall window at the rain, but there was a certain distant look in his eyes. His voice was quieter when he said, mostly to himself, “Never thought I’d end up homesick for rain.”

They blinked a few times. It was a little too easy to forget how long everyone had been living on the First for, some days. Five years on their end had only been a handful of moons back home, even if those moons felt impossibly long for them.

Thancred glanced back at them, as if suddenly remembering he wasn’t alone to—reminisce, or brood, whichever he was doing—then looked back out the window. “It rained for three days straight before you arrived on the First,” he said, voice clearer now for them to hear but no less sentimental. “Somewhat of a blessing, at the time. Upon seeing the night return to Lakeland, Ryne ran away from me to find your fellow Warriors, and you know well how that went. The downpour kept the Eulmoran airships grounded while the Crystarium gathered its forces—and you, though I didn’t know it then.”

Zaya didn’t know what to say to that. They slipped their now-dry leather shoes back on quietly, the light tap-tap of them putting their feet back down on the tiled floor and the patter of rain against the window the only sounds for a while.

When he spoke up next it was with an exhale, like he was clearing something heavy from his lungs. “When I managed to catch up to Ryne, close enough to see Laxan Loft and the Eulmorans, I remember seeing the curtain of rain and thinking—‘They’re finally here,’” he said. He looked at them almost teasingly, except his eyes were too soft at the corners, matching his smile just shy of a smirk. “It was as if the skies opened the floodgates in preparation for your arrival. Had to get to the Crystarium just to be able to dry off.”

That was even sillier than the belief that they left rain and storms in their wake—they weren’t even on the same shard when it had happened—and Zaya started to laugh without sound but not out of mirth, the muscles in their throat feeling tight and relieved all at once. Thancred finally turned away from the window and the rain to look at them with a slight frown.

“Was what I said that ridiculous?” he asked, but they shook their head and left him to sort out the confusion on his face. Tossing the towel onto the bench, Zaya stood up and with a light crackle of sparks at their heels rushed over, appearing at his side before he could register the sound and wrapping their arms around his neck, pushing up on their toes to not throw him off balance any more than necessary when his head dipped down suddenly from their weight.

“Missed you too,” they said, voice embarrassingly thick for something so little as words. Their face grew hot, but maybe Thancred would pass both off as a side effect of having to tilt their head up not to stab him with their horns, their throat pressed right against his shoulder.

It took a moment, but eventually Thancred returned their hug, and it didn’t matter that they’d already told him how much he was missed before because he tipped his head to press a kiss to their pulse and said, “I suppose I did, didn’t I.”

[ninjastormhawkkat]

The Comforting Night - A Mousebraingirl ficlet

*Rumble*

"Huh!" Steven jolted his head up from his desk, now fully awake after dozing off from the late hours working in his lab. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. 2:45 a.m. the clock showed to the tired scientist. Steven groggily rubbed the sand from his eyes as he tried to wake himself up again. He was spending another long night trying to find a cure for his child, to free her from that wretched mouse brain that was fused to her head. For Steven, it was worth the lack of sleep as long as he stayed on the road for a cure. Steven then subconsciously licked his lips, noting how dry his mouth and throat were from so many hours after he last drank something. 'Guess I can take a break now to get a glass of water.' Steven reasoned casually in his head. As soon as Steven exited his basement lab and into his living room, he heard multiple sounds of taping against the windows. Sonny Days, the weatherman, had predicted on TV that a rainstorm would hit Fair City by tonight and he was not wrong. Steven then heard some distant rumbling from outside with his super hearing. 'Probably going to have some thunder as well.' Steven then shook that casual thought off and went to the fridge to get some water. He took a glass from one of the cabinets near the fridge and then opened the fridge door to get a jug of water. He set the jug on the counter next to the glass then closed the door...only to be startled at the sudden appearance of his daughter Mouse, Bob, and the rest of the mice siblings that Mouse had adopted into their home.

"Gah!" Steven exclaimed as he jumped back from the shock of suddenly seeing them all there. Steven then took notice that they all had concerned looks. Mouse and her mice siblings having fearful looks. "Mouse, sweetheart, what are you all doing up so late?" Steven asked with concern in his voice. "We can't sleep, the storm outside is too loud." Mouse said quietly, still looking shaken. Just as she finished *CRASH-BOOM* The thunder clouds seemed to explode and rattled the house a bit from the sound, a bolt of lightning struck from outside, making the dark room light up temporarily. Mouse shrieked with a squeaky scream and her siblings gave equal squeaks of fear. Even Bob couldn't help but let out a brief monkey yelp. Mouse ran into her dad and Steven immediately hugged his daughter without squeezing the mice she was holding too hard. "Shh, its okay. Your alright. We'll be fine." Steven said as he comforted his frightened children. He could feel Mouse shaking in his arms. Steven then developed a small smile as he lifted his child's face to meet his gaze. "I have and idea kiddo. How about we all sleep on the couch tonight." Steven kindly suggested. Mouse sniffed a bit before silently nodding. The other mice siblings and Bob also agreed. So Steven went upstairs to get plenty of blankets and pillows from the supply closet, as well as earmuffs for the group, then brought them back downstairs and placed them on the couch. He then pulled the coffee table out of the way so he could pull the leg recliners from the couch to give the family some room. After that he put a large blanket over the couch and a few pillows under them. Mouse and her siblings crawled in and Steven followed suit. He put a pillow on one end of the armrests where he laid his head. Mouse curled up and fell asleep under the crook of her dad's arm. Squeaky Jr. and her other elder sibling fells asleep in the crooks of Steven's neck. The two youngest passed out on top of Mouse's head. Bob soon slept on Mouse's back. Steven warmly and tenderly observed his children and monkey friend sleep more peacefully now before he himself finally dozed off. 'I can work more later.' was his last thought before he snoozed off to dreamland. The storm outside went on with might, but the Boxleitner family was not afraid as they were surrounded in warmth and comfort by each other.

@melodythebunny

@drtwobrainsstuff

@liloskull343

(this was inspired by the thunderstorm happening outside of my house right now.)

[tootiredmotel]

Electricity

Inspired by @ledzeppelinmixtape 's emoji prompt: ⛈

Read on ao3 or below / 2.3k words

It's 11pm and storming biblically when Dean and Cas's apartment goes dark.

"Great," Dean mutters under his breath. "Fan-freaking-tastic."

From somewhere else in the apartment, his roommate asks "did the power go out?"

"What do you think, sunshine?" Dean replies sarcastically.

He has a half-written essay in front of him, but he knows his old-ass computer won't last long unplugged, so he saves the document before shutting it off. He leans back in his chair, stretching for the first time in an hour and running a hand down his face. He actually needed a break from the screen, he realizes, feeling his eyes relax as he rubs them.

The steady rain and strong winds outside make an overwhelming white noise track, interrupted only by thunder that goes from faint and distant to deafening in volume. If Dean wasn't stressed out of his mind and completely exhausted right now, he might actually find this kind of nice.

"It's raining cats and mice out there," he hears Cas say, his voice now in the room.

Dean smiles, still rubbing his eyes with the backs of both his hands. "Cats and dogs, Cas."

"Right. Cats and dogs."

It’s really no use correcting him; the entire animal kingdom could be falling from the sky right now and there wouldn't be much of a difference. The winds are definitely knocking things over, and the streets will certainly be flooded come morning. Dean wonders for how long the university will cancel classes after this (if at all, the heartless bloodsuckers).

A particularly loud clap of thunder startles Dean. He drops his hands from his face and opens his eyes, expecting to see pitch black nothingness, but the room is faintly lit by the flashlight Cas is holding as he rummages through their kitchen drawers. He approaches a minute later and sets a candle down on the small table.

"Smart."

"Thank you, Dean," Cas says, sitting down opposite him. Dean smiles again, this time shaking his head.

If anyone ever asked him to mention one thing he likes about Cas, just one, he'd probably say how genuine Cas is, how he takes everything to heart and speaks from it as well. Dean said just one word, smart, a simple comment on the fact that it occurred to Cas to light a candle instead of wasting the battery of their one flashlight, and Cas genuinely thanked him for the compliment. He's just ridiculously cute in his earnestness.

Cas is trying to light the candle now, but their lighter is tricky. Despite living together in that apartment for a year and a half now Cas has never really gotten the hang of it.

"Here, let me."

Dean means to take the lighter from Cas and do it himself, he really does. That is 100% his intention as he reaches across the table. Except he sees an opportunity, and Dean Michael Winchester is nothing if not smooth.

He wraps his hand around Cas's, gently guiding his fingers until they’re placed just right, and the lighter clicks on with ease. Cas meets his eyes, smiling, and Dean can feel the slightest brush of Cas’s thumb against his hand. It’s a small gesture, but clearly deliberate, and it sends Dean’s heart into overdrive. Cas leans away, puts the lighter aside, and starts leafing through a book he brought. Dean’s heart is still racing as he watches him.

Scratch that first thing. If anyone ever asked him what’s one thing he likes about Cas? His hands. God. Neat nails, slightly calloused palms, and overall larger hands than you’d expect. Cas is an environmental science major and he wants to get a Ph.D. in botany, so of course, there’s a small garden on their fire escape. He tends to those plants every day with more gentleness and care than Dean has ever seen, and Dean loves to watch him, even though he has no idea what Cas is doing with them half the time. He just knows that not a single one of their plants have died under Cas’s care. He names them too.

His attentiveness. That’s another thing Dean might say if anyone ever asked. Cas left to visit his sister Anna last winter break. He left Dean in charge of the plants, three of which died inside the week. (For Dean’s birthday a couple of months later, Cas got him a book. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean keeps it on his nightstand.) Dean went out and bought new ones, but he knew Cas would notice the difference, and he did. He wasn’t mad at Dean though, and he appreciated the effort, and as Dean apologized profusely over and over again, Cas looked at him in the eyes oh-so-softly and told him he was forgiven.

How could Dean possibly forget? If anyone ever asked, he’d say that Cas’s eyes are one of his favorite things about him. One of his favorite things, period. Dean is absolutely mesmerized whenever Cas looks him in the eye, and the guy loves making eye contact, which means that Dean lives in a perpetual smitten daze. He has never seen that shade of blue anywhere else on this earth. Or maybe he just hasn’t been looking, content to get his fill of that blue by staring into Cas’s eyes as much as he gets to on a daily basis.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

Dean blinks himself back to reality. “Hm?”

“You seem… spaced.”

Dean is staring. He’s been staring this whole time. Shit. Crap.

“Yeah, um. Just tired.”

Mr. Smooth, everybody.

“Maybe you should go get some rest. I doubt the power will be back anytime soon.”

Castiel Milton, always looking out for you. It makes Dean melt.

“Yeah, maybe.” I wanna stay here with you, though, he thinks. Instead, because he’s pathetic, he asks “what’re you reading?”

Cas shows him the cover. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean breaks out in laughter.

“So you’re going into my room and stealing my shit now?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your Vonneguts.” Cas puts the book aside, an easy smile on his face. “Just wanted something light to pass the time.”

“You done with your homework?”

A soft yawn escapes Cas. “For now.”

“Dude, why not just go to sleep? You look exhausted.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Dean tries to deadpan him. He fails, because around Cas, it’s near impossible for him to not smile.

“Besides, I might be done but you weren’t.”

“And you wanted to keep me company.”

Cas shrugs as if to say I guess, but he does it with a knowing smile. The smile doesn’t falter as he meets Dean’s eyes, and he doesn’t look away when silence settles between them, the only sound being the stormy white noise.

Dean is sure he could drown in that blue and die happy.

Before that train of thought gets away from him again, Dean tears his gaze away and stretches. “We should really go to bed though, I’m not getting any more done tonight,” he says as he stands.

“Of course,” Cas says, but he grabs the book again.

“You not going?”

“I want to finish this chapter.”

The seriousness in his tone makes Dean smile. Again.

“Well, g’night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean thinks he detects a bit of shakiness in Cas’s voice but decides that he’s probably just tired.

He gets to his room and changes into something comfortable, the first t-shirt and sweatpants he finds as he rummages in the dark. He goes to set his phone on his nightstand and crawl into bed, but in place of the book he keeps there and puts his phone on top of– the book Cas has at the moment– he finds something else.

It’s paper. It’s folded into the form of a book, like one of those youtube craft tutorials with bad music, and it's no bigger than his own palm. The cover is handwritten, and Dean immediately recognizes it as Cas's. He smiles, expecting a prank or joke of some sort, Cas knows how stressed Dean can get with the start of the semester. However, his smile falters as he reads the cover:

How to tell your best friend you’re in love with him.

With a shaky hand, Dean opens the small book. The first page is the only one with any more writing on it, and it reads:

You leave him a note and hope it’s enough.

Dean is storming out of his bedroom (no pun intended) before he knows it. He barely even feels his feet moving, too focused on the pounding in his ears and the dryness in his mouth. He doesn’t go into the living room, not yet; his feet stop at the end of the short hallway and he braces himself against the wall. The room is spinning and he can barely breathe.

“Cas?” He chokes out.

Cas puts the book back down on the table in front of him and interlocks his fingers in front of him. He doesn’t look at Dean– Cas, who makes too much eye contact – and takes a deep breath before saying “yes?”

He’s nervous.

Dean takes a step forward, still keeping one hand on the wall just in case, and holds up the note. “What is this?” he asks, because his brain is just not there with him yet.

Cas stands, still not facing Dean. “Dean, do you know what day it is?”

He’s asking this now???

“September firs–”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Cas isn’t today the–”

“The night we met. Two years ago.”

Dean feels his brain catching up now as the memory starts coming back to him. Cas helps, starting to recount that night.

“Two years ago tonight, I was leaving my night course at the university, and it was raining. Not as bad as this,” –Cas looks out the window and lightning strikes, as if on cue– “but pretty badly, and I was an inexperienced freshman without an umbrella.”

Dean remembers. He was walking Charlie to her dorm when it started drizzling, and it was pouring by the time he made it back to his car. Dean had a night shift at the gas station and was about to head there.

“Two years ago tonight,” Cas continues, “you invited me into your car to shelter me from the rain.”

Dean saw this guy running in the direction of the men’s dorms, which were on the other side of campus. He felt bad, and he had a car, so he opened the passenger door and let him in.

Turned out to be the most gorgeous guy he’d ever laid eyes on. He was a bit awkward, but he had no filter, which made him weirdly funny. He asked about the music playing in the car and listened intently to Dean's rambling. He laughed at his jokes too.

At the end of the five-minute drive, he said his name was Castiel, and Dean asked for his number and saved it as Cas with a thunderstorm emoji. Because even if he didn’t know it yet, Dean was already whipped.

“Two years ago,” Cas says, finally looking up at Dean. His eyes are wide and vulnerable and he looks terrified and Dean can barely stand it. “Two years ago tonight, I started to fall in love with you.”

Dean can’t breathe. His ears are hot and he can’t stop fidgeting with the note in his hand and he can’t breathe.

But his feet start moving again, out of their own volition. They move toward Cas.

“If you don’t feel–” Cas starts, but Dean swallows his words.

Again, Dean’s brain isn’t all there yet, and he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he’s already in it. He’s grabbing Cas’s face, digging his fingertips into the back of his hair, and the note is forgotten on the table, and thunder rumbles not that far away. He’s darting out his tongue, begging to explore Cas’s mouth as he’s wanted to do since forever, and Cas lets him. He tastes like toothpaste and coffee and honey and Dean never wants to taste anyone else ever again.

Cas is wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and pressing his entire body against him. It’s making Dean weak in the knees but it’s okay because Cas is almost holding him upright at this point. There’s another clap of thunder, much closer this time, and the lightning probably illuminated the apartment, but it wasn’t enough to make them part. They’re moving and grasping and exploring frantically, and Dean is afraid Cas is going to disappear, or that he’s going to wake up and this will all have been another dream. But no, it’s real, and they’re playing catchup on two years worth of desire and longing and love.

They eventually pull away, breathless and giddy. The only sounds are the rain and the wind. Dean opens his eyes first, needing to see Cas and make sure this is completely, definitely, unequivocally real. Cas is smiling and taking deep breaths, and a weight seems to be lifted off his shoulders. He opens his eyes a second later, and even in the darkness, even with just the faint candlelight, the blue in them seems to shine. And even though there's no power, it feels as if there's electricity crackling in the air around them. It might be the storm.

No. It's the moment. This moment with Cas is what feels electric.

“Come to bed?” Dean asks, feeling brave and going out on a limb. The only way Cas responds is by interlocking his hand into Dean’s and kissing him again.

And after tonight, for the rest of his life, if anyone ever asks him “what’s one thing you love about Cas?” Dean won’t be able to narrow down an answer.

He’ll just say: “Everything.”

[quellmythirst]

House Hunting Part 9

Summary: You are the youngest child of Frank and Maria Castle. Your dads best mate offers to help you find a new place in the city. The only problem being you’ve had a crush on him since forever.

Pairing: Castle!Reader (you) x Billy Russo

Words: 2.9k

A/n: OMg, how is this the longest chapter? Umm.. I nearly died this morning watching those fucking thirst tweets and this is the result of me being mostly distracted. Also incase you forgot Rachel is the recruiter. This is smut free, because I'm fucking thirsty enough RN

Warnings: Big ol’ age gap, dad’s best friend, daddy kink, teasing, smut, alcohol, swearing, violence, dirty talk. 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Part 8

"Hey Y/n," Rachel said, stepping into your office, "you've been here a while now, I think it's time we got to know each other a bit better,"

"Sure, what do you wanna know?" You asked, confused about her sudden interest in getting to know you.

"Not like that," she smiled, leaning on your desk.

"Umm, I'm seeing someone," you smiled apologetically at her, "if that's what you mean."

"Also no. I was thinking we should go out tonight."

"Right? Why-" you asked, still trying to gain some insight, when she cut you off.

"Look," she sighed, sitting in the chair opposite your desk, "I really like Isaac, you know the new guy," you did know of Isaac. He was kind, seemed easy going, probably too easy going to notice if someone like Rachel was hitting on him.

"Ok, so he is also coming? Did you ask him?" you asked, maybe she was shy and wanted you to ask for her.

"Yeah, but then he thought it was a work thing and invited his whole squad." she sighed even more dramatically, resting her face in her palm.

"Oh,"

"Oh, is right. So will you come? I don't want to be the only civilian. Please." She begged, pouting her lower lip out at you.

"Fine, where are we going?"

"I'll text you the address, thank you so much!" She squealed, jumping from her chair and giving you an unexpected hug, before heading back to her desk. Awesome, you're sure Billy is gunna be totally thrilled that you're headed to a bar with all of his underlings. Thank the gods that he was currently out on assignment with a new team.

With your things gathered you're just about ready to head home to get ready when you forgot something very important. Opening up your phone you begin to text as you exit the building.

“Can't see you tonight, made plans with Rachel,” About 2 seconds later, your phone starts to ring. Shit. You thought he'd be too busy over seeing his assignment to notice until it was too late. While still giving you a reasonable excuse that you had in fact told him.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

"Out, she's gunna tell me later,"

"When you find out, let me know. Who else is going?" He asked, sounding a bit too much like your father.

"She said squad 8’s coming. Should be fun. I’ll try to remember," you said, making a note to leave your phone at home.

"No, you will remember. I will- yes yes I'm coming," he called to the distant voice in the background," I'm going to call you at 8, make sure you answer,"

There was no room for argument, you knew you'd be in trouble. But what was he gunna do? Storm the club that he didn’t know you were at and punish you in front of his underlings and blow this ruse that you were just friends? As if. Be a bit hard if he didn't even know where you were.

Your cab pulled up to Nightcap, the dance music echoing through the walls. How Rachel was going to get to know this guy when she could barely hear him was a mystery to you. Glancing around you couldn't see her, she had said to meet you at 8. Where was she? You couldn’t call her, because you had decided you wanted to see what Billy would do in lieu of you not having a phone on you. Just as you thought that her voice carried down the walkway, she was definitely dressed to impress. She looked stunning in the gold glittered mini dress. You looked down at your own outfit, the green sundress a lot more conservative. You felt over dressed, this was just meant to be drinks. You hadn't expected to need club wear. Another car pulled up beside you and 4 people exited the taxi. Squad 8, they smiled when they saw you, but their eyes were definitely fixed on Rachel. Oh, he would notice her now.

“Hey guys, y/n. Ready to head on in?” Rachel said, grinning as she linked your arms together, “I love that dress, babe. You look super cute!” She complimented you genuinely, as you approached the bouncer and he let the group in.

"I'm gunna grab a drink," you said, heading towards the bar as the rest of the group made their way to a table.

"Hey! YN! Wait up!" Derek called, running up behind you, " I've been wanting to talk to you," he said now waiting in the line next to you.

"Oh really? I'm kinda off the clock right now,"

"No, no. Not like that, it's just," he shuffled on his feet, his eyes locked on the back of the person in front of you, "it's- you know when you like someone and you don't know if they like you back?"

“Yehhh,” you said, half sure of where this was going.

“Well, so I've got this friend and he really likes this girl, but he doesn't know how to tell her.” he admitted awkwardly, his usually gruff demeanor slipping away and a shy one replacing it.

“Please tell me, that girl isn't me,” you sighed.

“What?! No. It's Isaac.” he said, giving you a confused look.

“You like Isaac?”

“I mean yeh- Fuck, no that's not what I meant. You and Rachel seem close. Do you know if she likes him? He won't shut up about her fucking shiny hair.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed, wiping your palm over your face, “those two are idiots. What do you think the reason for this whole thing is?”

“Oh. Oh!” Derek clicked, “well let's get them wasted and see what happens.”

“Great plan. Let's get to it!”

You and Derek each buy a pitcher of cocktails for the group to share and your plan to get Rachel and Isaac to loosen up is underway. Fortunately, it also manages to loosen up the 2 remaining members of squad 8 Erica and Boyd as well. But that seems to work in your favour as well, the two of them finding dance partners relatively easily and heading off to make out in a cupboard you assume. Leaving the 4 of you as the table. You spot someone you think looks familiar at the bar, but blow it off. Deciding it’s probably just a trick of the flashing lights. There’s no way, it’s a big city. Time for the next phase in your plan.

You stand up and your legs are shaking, God how much had you had? "Derek, derek," you giggled, "come dance with me, let's leave these love birds alone," you not so subtly winked at him, your hand flying over your mouth, "whoops sorry it's a secret," you thought you whispered, but actually shouted at them.

You dance for a while Derek kept a comfortable distance away and seeming to be doing a bang up job of keeping everyone else away to. Until you spot a clear image of someone you thought you hadn’t seen before, a familiar giant and he spots you. You get a niggle in the back of your mind telling you someone is watching you, but you chalk it up to paranoia and the obvious, Derek is watching you. Der. You begin making your way towards the familiar face you throw your arms around him.

“Bo! Fancy seeing you here,” you giggle excitedly, swaying a bit on the spot.

“Y/n, didn't expect to see you here without your bodyguard,” he said, his eyes stopping when he saw Derek coming towards you. “Wow, you really do like them dark and scary,”

“Do you know this man, Miss Castle?” Derek asked, puffing out his already huge chest, his deep blue eyes staring down the man. How he managed to seem taller than Bo was crazy, considering Bo was towering over him.

“Yeh he's a friend, we're gonna dance right?” You smile at Bo, peering over at his friends who seem to be winking at him, their hands shooing him away.

You and Bo keep a little distance between you as you dance, but he's trying to say something and you can't hear so you move closer as his arms wrap around you, he leans down to your ear. “Sorry that it didn't work out with what's his name,” he said earnestly, his hands keeping a respectable place on your lower back.

“Wha!?” You said almost unable to hear him over the thumping music, the niggling feeling of being watched still in the back of your mind.

“Your new boyfriend is almost as scary as the last one,”

“Oh, Derek isn't my boyfriend,” you yell back, feeling his grip tighten on you

“Does that mean,” he leans back tilting your head up, “I finally got a shot,” you shake your head as his mouth inches closer to you, he sees you flinch. His body almost bent in half as his forehead connects with yours, your noses nearly touching, “I’d be so good to you. No more scary ass men following you around,”

“What are you doing?” You mumbled not wanting to move, but your brain is screaming at you that this is a bad BAD idea, “you're going to get me in trouble.”

“You wouldn’t be a secret to me,” He sighed, brushing his nose against yours. His eyes looked mournful, he knew.. And so did you. It wasn’t him.

“Bo,” you sighed regretfully, if only, “I’m sorry, I-” he pulled back, not wanting to have you reject him again. You felt horrible, every time you ran into him made it harder to walk away. You needed to do something.

“Forget it, let's just keep dancing,” he stood back, giving you some space.

“I got an even better idea, I'll be right back,” you said, dancing away and towards the pretty brunette that was dancing by herself, you had noticed her glancing at Bo a few times, a sad expression on her face when he had started dancing with you.

“Hey,” you said dancing next to her and she smiled back, “how would you feel about doing me a solid, see that guy over there,” you pointed at Bo, “he's my bestie and he's been going on and on about you, could you just go talk to him to shut him up,”

“He is kinda cute, in a giraffe way,” she giggled, “ok, but just one dance.” you could see the excitement in her eyes, she looked like she was gunna climb him like a tree.

“Perfect,” you take her by the hand and quickly lead her towards him.

“What's this?” He asked, when you arrived with the random woman you had accosted in tow, a somewhat surprised expression on his face.

“Bo meet, sorry I didn't get your name,” you smiled, turning back to the woman.

“Tilly,” she smiled up at him and you knew what she saw in his eyes because you saw it too.

“Ok, you kids have fun,” you giggled making your way back to Derek.

“That was nice of you, but his eyes are still on your ass,” Derek sneered, obviously not impressed by the interaction you had with Bo, “Can’t believe how well you handled that,” you both stood at the bar watching them.

“Give it a minute,” you said, watching them while sharing another jug of cocktails with Derek at the bar. You watched their conversation and within seconds he had her laughing, their bodies getting closer as the first song ended and the next started.

Sure enough, by the end of the third song they were fully making out on the dance floor and you could see him whisper something in her ear, taking her hand to lead her towards the door, ”See told you so,” you smirked at Derek, impressed at your own skills.

Derek took you back out on the dancefloor and you carved out your own little area in the corner when all of the drinks rushed south. Derek flinched as you leaned on close to his ear, so he could hear you "I'll gotta pee, be back in a sec,"

It took you a few minutes but you eventually found the bathroom, meeting some lovely drunk women who said they loved your dress and hair, before declaring you their new bestie.

You're on your way back to Derek when something big grabs you by the arm. Pulling you toward them they clamp a big meaty hand over your mouth. "Don't scream," his voice threatens. You don't, instead opting to bite down on his fingers. His hand releases your mouth and you yell back

“Take your filthy mit's of me! You fucker! I'll kill you,” That seems to do the trick, you glance up at the man and he looks like a deer stuck on headlights, good he should be scared. It's only when you follow his eyes that you see a very very passed off Billy. He throws some words at a very sad looking Derek behind him before stepping closer to you.

“Don't come any closer or the girl gets it,” The man behind you threatened, taking a gun from behind him and pointing it at your middle.

“Let her go,” Billy retaliates, swiping 3 his finger across his nose and you recognize the signal he uses to give his men, “Just let the girl go, we can settle this,” Two fingers now, ok he's counting down, “Her father won't be happy about this, if you let her go now, maybe I can talk him down,” 1. You slam your head back, hitting the guy dead in the nose and his hands fly up releasing your body. You fling forward into Billy's arms, but he merely passes you to Derek who has a firm grip on your shoulder.

You watched as Billy stalked towards the man, punching him so hard he hit the ground in seconds. How come he got to have all the fun? This guy tried to kidnap you or worse, wiggling free of Derek's grasp you ran forward grabbing the knife that you knew Billy kept in his boot and leaning over him. You bring the knife down towards the man's face, Your wrist caught mid-air by Billy's strong hand.

“You can unkill a man, little girl,” He chided you, his eyes not leaving yours as his knee pressed down onto the man's sternum

“What if I just stab him a little? it was me he was trying to kidnap”

“How about we start small, ok?” Billy said, his hand releasing your wrist, he gave you a small nod. It occurred to you that he trusted you, trusted that even if you sometimes didn't listen or defied him for fun, when it mattered you were obedient. It was a big revelation for a slightly drunk woman, it made your mind swirl and you hoped you would forget in the morning, “You still with me?” he asked, and you realised you’d just been staring into space.

“Ugh, fine,” You sighed, pressing the blade into his face and drawing blood, swiping it across his cheek. Billy watching as a sick smirk spread across your face, his hand moving to take the knife from you.

“That's enough,” he commanded, hitting the guy again so he was out cold. “HALE, take this guy to processing. I'm taking this one home,” He stood, snaking an arm around you as your legs were shaking. “You alright little girl?”

“Who was that guy?” you asked, looking up at him, your eyes seeming foggy, as adrenaline and alcohol swirled through your mind.

“Hale will find out. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you leaving your phone at home”

“How you find me?” he gave you a pointed look and you knew, “Derek, fucking narc,"

“You’re lucky he is, Who knows what would've happened if I wasn’t here,”

“How long you been here?” your words slurring as he guided you through the club.

“Long enough, that I know that you nearly crossed a line,” he stared down at you, you're sure he would've looked scary had you been anyone else. But he didn't, you could see what was behind the fury in his eyes, hurt. You brushed his cheek, making googly eyes at him, “You saved that man's life tonight,” he muttered nuzzling into your hand as you stepped into the fresh night air.

“Creep, he tried to take me away, shoulda let me stab stab stab him,” you giggled, making stabby motions with your hands.

“Not him, little girl.” he leaned down, kissing you possessively while he guided you towards the car.

“I know,” you moaned, opening the car door and crawling backwards into the back seat, Billy climbing in on top of you, shutting the door behind him.

PART 10

Taglist.

@profoundme444

@shazianazir05 (I don't know why yours are the only ones that wont work)

@mrs-billyrussooo

@pedropascalfanclub

@severewobblerlightdragon

@nikki-sixx-is-daddy

@spear-bearing-bi-witch

@eginv-blog

[nctsworld]

the yuletide boyfriend

✩‌ yangyang ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fluff | angst | smut | friends to lovers | ‌college au | 9k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ your one wish this year is to not be single during the holidays. yangyang, as your best friend, takes it upon himself to be your temporary boyfriend. soon enough, both parties begin to wish this new arrangement could last beyond the holidays. // part of the x-mas in ncity collection WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ implied ‌anxiety attack (during the first part of dec 24th – skip if need to), smut, mutual m*sturbation, couch s*x, angst, miscommunication, swearing RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature TAGLIST ⇾ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ this is my longest fic to date and also... might be my worst b/c i feel like the angst plot points don’t really make sense... but i hope y’all still enjoy!!! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

NOVEMBER 30th

“So, anything special on your wishlist this year?”

Your best friend, Yangyang, asks you as you two sit next to each other on one of the many plush lounge couches in the Psychology building. It’s the usual lunch spot where you meet with him during your break between lectures.

The Psych building held much sentimental value for both of you because you met in Psych 101 during first year. Fast-forward three years later, neither of you expected to be the close friends that you are today.  

Chewing your sandwich, you ponder on his question for a bit. Through the transparent glass walls leading to outside, you see the trickle of students heading towards the building since class is about to start for the noon round of lectures. A couple, you assume by the tight hand-holding and nose kissing, giggles as they enter the building, glued to one another by the hip.

“Not really.” You drop your head downward to your lunch container, smiling to yourself. “I’m honestly just happy to have Mark in my life, especially at this point in the year.”

Yangyang nods in accordance and smiles too, understanding the story behind your sentiment.

The boyfriends you’ve had since first year have always broken up with you before the holidays, right before the end of November. Since you only became close during second year, Yangyang’s been around for two out of three of your cursed holiday break-ups.

To have Mark, your latest boyfriend, be with you and it being already December tomorrow, it was truly a blessing for you and a silver lining that maybe this was the year to break the curse. Yangyang was grateful too, wanting you to have the utmost happiness.    

You take another bite of your sandwich and tilt your chin toward the ramen eater.

“You?”

Yangyang slurps a few more noodles before he answers.

“I mean, the new Playstation would be nice,” he hums, mouth full.

Pointing the tip of your sandwich, you joke, “I’ll get it for you, but only if we share custody over it.”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head during a mid-slurp. “You know I can’t promise that.”

Both of you laugh in unison, living in the calm before the oncoming storm.

DECEMBER 5th

The E-Sports club for the university is hosting a party tonight and because Yangyang’s on one of the professional teams, he asked a few weeks ago if you and Mark wanted to attend. Of course you accepted; Mark also had some friends in the club.

However, when you text Yangyang in the afternoon, stating a change of mind, he knows something’s off.

Half an hour before the party starts, Yangyang decides to visit you. Thankfully you both lived on campus, but even if you lived across town, he’d still bus out to see how you were doing. He does it all the time to visit his family, anyway.  

In the living room, the two sudden knocks at your door startle you. Peering through the peephole, you see the usual sight of your best friend, his lips curled upward and thumbs tucked in his pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

It feels like an eternity for him when you unlock your door. The hinges squeal as you open it hesitatingly, your face barely appearing through the agape crack.

Immediately, his smile dissolves. Your face is drained and blood-shot eyes avoiding his own confront him.

Yangyang has only seen you cry twice in the three years he’s known you:

Once, when you were freaking the fuck out over potentially failing a course (but, on the upside, you ended up passing the final to save your grade).

The second time was at his house for a family dinner, when his mom accidentally added too much hot chili sauce to her homemade beef noodle soup (let’s just say you weren’t the only one crying that night).

Those were tears of dread and physical discomfort.

But this… this was crying he’s never seen from you before. His chest collapses inward, fearful of the reason behind your tears.  

His voice shakes as he asks, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Neither of you are major huggers and only exchange them on the rare occasion.

However, this situation screams the necessity of it, so Yangyang lunges towards you, the collision swinging the door out of the way. His arms embrace you like a large, warm blanket. Comforting and safe.  

Despite the affection, emptiness has taken over your body. Tonight, you’re a dead, empty shell of who you normally are.

You feel weak to the bone, but you muster up enough energy to scarcely raise your arms over his back to return the hug. Your eyes are dry from all the crying you’ve done all day, but apparently you have more tears left in you to spare.

Your eyelids snap shut and your jaw clenches.  

“Mark broke up with me.”

Your words are muffled into his shoulder, but Yangyang hears it crystal clear.  

You break down, sobbing out of control over the statement.

As aforementioned, Yangyang’s been around for your last two, now three, break-ups. Sure, he’s aware of how grumpy and distant you can get, but you never cried in front of him. You made an effort to never have him see you at your lowest point.

And yet, here you are, drowning him in your misery. Guilt washes over you for drenching his bomber jacket, but Yangyang couldn’t give two shits. His arms squeeze tighter while he rubs your back tenderly.

After several minutes pass and your waterworks abate, you peel away from him. You sniffle and rub your nose with the back of your hand.

“Sorry about cancelling last minute.”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” he whispers soothingly.

“I’m just… so fucking frustrated.”

With fatigued eyes, you drag yourself back inside your apartment. Yangyang discreetly closes the door behind him and hurriedly uses his feet to push off his shoes. As he does so, your mouth begins to run off while you slowly pace around aimlessly.  

“Fucking done with boyfriends, especially when they think it’s so fucking awesome to keep breaking up with me right before the holidays.”

He kicks off his last stubborn shoe and catches you raking your hands through your hair, pulling it back firmly. Your lips are trembling, along with your entire frame.  

“Like I get that I’m horrible and needy and emotional—”

His mouth opens, wanting to cut in to disagree with you with all his heart, but he clamps it back shut and swallows, allowing you to blow your steam off.

“—but can’t they wait until the fucking new year? I don’t know, or maybe just don’t date me in the first place! I don’t know, I don’t fucking know anymore. I’m just cursed, Yangyang...”

You flop down onto the couch and sink into the ocean of shiny pleather, shutting your eyes and trying to stop crying for the nth time. The deep sting behind your eyelids pain you, but it pains Yangyang more to watch the events unfolding ahead of him.  

Unsure of what to say, Yangyang walks around the room. His gaze falls on your laptop screen and he frowns at the mostly bare Word document that stares back at him:  

“WISHLIST:   -KEEP ONE (1) FUCKING BOYFRIEND DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON!!!!!!!! GOD FUCKING SDKMFLDS”

There are a few more lines below it with more profanities and keyboard smashing. He quickly darts away, a pang of guilt striking for invading your privacy.

Then, he turns to you on the couch again. You’re now covering your eyes with your forearm, pressing your lips together. His chest twists and his throat is arid as a desert.

You’re in shambles and he’s dying to pick up the shattered pieces of you, wants to glue you back together. On a regular basis, Yangyang’s a talking machine and can talk your ear off for hours, but right now, he doesn’t know what to say to you in your current state. He second-guesses himself, wonders if he’s even that great of a friend if he can’t comfort you in your worst times.

Blowing out a long sigh and removing your arm, you speak aloud, “You should get going to the party.”

Like awakening from a deep slumber, you rise up sluggishly and sit up on the couch, slouched over. The other figure in the room steps closer to you.  

“Sorry about your jacket, by the way,” you say. Your body is still, but your glazed eyes move to the dark spot on the middle of his shoulder. He glances at it and shrugs.  

“It’s better like this anyway,” he says with a gentle smile, and the tight knot in his heart softens at the flicker of your own smile, albeit a small one. Unfortunately, it fades in a few seconds. “I don’t want to leave you like this, though.”

You stare at the used, crumpled balls of tissues scattered on the living room table. Some also ended up on the floor. Break-ups are shit and 98% inevitable, but you know you’ll eventually get over it. You always do.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

He raises an eyebrow, as if asking, “Are you sure?” The lack of a worded reply causes you to notice the question written on his face.  

“Go,” you plead with a feeble laugh. “Have fun for me.”

Both of you head towards your front door again. Crossing your arms, you lean your head against the door frame and attempt a smile for your best friend.

“Thanks again for checking up on me.”

Yangyang nods with a half-smile, half-pout, “Of course.”

You give him a departing wave prior to sealing your door.

Usually, Yangyang would bus from your place to the student union building, where the party is being held. Instead, he zippers up his jacket and stuffs his fists into his pockets, opting to bear the early winter chill to walk his thoughts off. His blazing self-doubt burns at first, but he overcomes it by focusing on ideas to fix your accursed dating rut instead.  

Halfway through the walk, a light bulb moment occurs. A plan begins to brew on the surface of his mind and he thinks on it for the rest of the week.  

DECEMBER 11th

It’s been almost a week since you last saw Yangyang.

Finals started already, so classes were done for the semester and thus, your lunch meet-ups halted too. On top of that, since you were simultaneously moping and studying, you hadn’t really texted him much, nor had he, besides the occasional check-up text on how studying was going and random memes. Yangyang knew you preferred time alone to heal and he respected that.  

He also thought six days was enough time to get yourself back on your feet.  

Yangyang’s at your front door once again, but this time with two bowls of his mom’s beef noodle soup in tow.  

“Long time, no see,” you greet. Your tone is chipper, but your eyes look heavy, which could be partially from studying, Yangyang thinks. His smile deepens, content that you seem a lot better than the last time he visited.

“Delivery for two,” he raises the bag in his hand.

“And if I told you I already ate dinner?” you playfully retort.

The boyish man shrugs defeatedly, “Then I’ll tell my mom you hate her cooking—”

“You didn’t say it was your mom’s, Yangyang. Oh, my God,” you gasp, half-mockingly. You rush to grab the bags out of his hand and stroll towards your tiny kitchen. “Start off with that next time.”

As you remove the containers from the bag and onto the granite countertop, Yangyang shuts the door and takes his shoes off.  

“So, I’m gonna be upfront and say that I may have come here with a proposal.”

“Changed your mind about the shared custody of the Playstation?”

“I’m still considering that one.” Finally in his socks, he slings his backpack off his shoulder and plops it onto the couch along with his jacket. He stands next to you by the counter. “But it’s on the same page as that. Remember that day we were talking about wishlists?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum as you rip off the lid of one of the bowls. Blatant wisps fly upward and you inhale the savoury aroma, followed by a heavenly sigh.  

“Last time I was here… I might’ve seen what you wrote on your laptop.”

Your expression immediately changes into full-on cringe. You bring a palm over to your face.

“Oh, God. Let’s not talk about that. That was just weepy, lonely me talking.”

Yangyang pops off the lid for his bowl and steps into your kitchen, rummaging through your drawers for chopsticks. “So you’re telling me you don’t want a boyfriend for Christmas?”

Your hand flies off your face. Eyes widening, you spew, “Do you have a boyfriend in your pocket, ready for me to have?”

In your open hand, he places a pair of chopsticks into it. “Well, actually, I was thinking—”

Sternly, you point the chopsticks at him. “Don’t you dare set me up with your friends.”

He counters and points his at you, “Even better than that.”

With your interest piqued, you slide yourself onto the counter stool and mix the noodles around, anticipating to hear Yangyang’s fantastic plan. Your friend sits on the other stool, facing you. He pauses for a second, taking a deep breath.  

“Why don’t I be your boyfriend for the holidays?”

You freeze, and the noodles’ drips above your bowl are deafening to both individuals. Laughing awkwardly, you break your frozen state to drop your chopsticks and turn your head to look at him.

Sputtering, you say, “What?”

Unnerved, his mouth pinches to one side, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place. This was stupid, so stupid, but it’s out in the open and Yangyang already dug his grave—he may as well lay in it.  

“Well, for one, it’s something on your wishlist that I can easily get,” he pauses mid-sentence, glancing upward in thought. “Well, really, fill? Is that a better way to put it?”

He continues, eyes back on you, “And two, I’m not setting you up with a stranger or someone you wouldn’t be comfortable with. I assume you know me well enough that you’re comfortable around me?”

Yangyang lifts an upturned palm and raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response to his assumption. Petulantly, you shake your head playfully and stick out your tongue at him.  

Rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze drops down to the floor for his last point. His voice lowers.

“And, I don’t know, we’d just hang out like we usually do during that time, except we’d do more couple-y things.”

Realizing the implication of his words, he widens his eyes. “I mean, we'll do whatever you’re comfortable with, obviously. We don’t have to do any of the physical stuff—”

You burst into a giggle at his rambling and hold a hand out, cutting him off. “Okay, Yang. I get it.”  

Yangyang watches your next moves carefully. You’re peering off to one side and picking at the tips of your fingers. After a minute that feels like forever, you nod slowly.

“I guess you have a point. We are sorta like a couple already.”

Your best friend sighs in relief, grinning that you’re not outright rejecting the idea.

“So,” you meet his eyes and bunch a shoulder up towards your ear. “We’ll just be a couple until what, New Year’s?”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs indifferently. “Whatever you want. It’s your Christmas wish.”

You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief that you two are actually making an agreement for Yangyang to be your temporary, holiday boyfriend.

Honestly, it’s a little crazy... but maybe it’s the perfect thing to get your mind off of Mark and the handful of holiday exes hanging above your head.

“Okay, since my last final is on the 21st, let’s start ‘dating’ then and we’ll play everything by ear, see how it goes.”

Yangyang bobs his head eagerly. “Sounds good, soon-to-be girlfriend.”

He sticks a hand out for you to shake. You take it firmly, sealing the deal and flashing him a grin.

“Soon-to-be boyfriend.”  

Although the night goes on like usual between the two of you, you couldn’t deny how ecstatic you are to finally have a boyfriend during the holidays, even if it was technically your best friend as a stand-in.

DECEMBER 21st

Tonight’s your first date with Yangyang.

That sounds weird to say, you admit to yourself, but it’s the truth.

After you stroll out of your last final of the semester, Yangyang’s waiting for you inside near the main exit of the building with several layers on, including his hoodie over his head and a knitted scarf underneath. His attention leaves his phone and he stuffs it into pocket as he notices you heading over.  

“Hey, girlfriend,” he welcomes you, beaming.

You snicker at the unfamiliar label. You wonder if you’re going to get used to this, even if it’s only for two weeks.  

“Hey, boyfriend,” you grin harder as the word falls from your lips, trying your best not to outright burst into laughter. “Where we heading off to?”

Although you said both of you could play the dating by ear, Yangyang’s been keen on scheduling plans for the upcoming days. You told him he didn’t have to, however, he insisted by saying that he wouldn’t only be a horrible boyfriend, but a horrible friend if he couldn’t make the next weeks fun for you.

Yangyang was anything but a horrible friend, and the fact that he was willing to be your holiday boyfriend to make you happy proved it further. Nevertheless, you gladly let him take the reins.

“I was thinking the movies tonight? See the latest Marvel film?”

Concurring to the idea, you scurry towards the bus stop and are movie-theatre bound to the nearest one off-campus. Arriving at the theatre, Yangyang and you buy your tickets and a popcorn to share, then head into the respective auditorium where the movie is playing. Since the movie’s been running for a couple of weeks, the auditorium is fairly empty, giving you two the chance to snag perfect middle seats with nobody else is in the row.  

Up to this point, aside from the name-dropping of boyfriend and girlfriend, this feels less like a date and more like any other hang-out with him. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing awkward.

But that changes during a third of the movie.

You’re both so immersed by the screen that neither party notices the other’s hand when both of you reach for the popcorn in Yangyang’s lap at the same time.  

A jolt runs through as your hands brush together. The duo’s eyes tear away from the screen and flit to the action happening in real-time. The touch lingers for several moments.  

“Sorry,” you quickly mumble, drawing your hand back slightly, but still hovering over the popcorn.    

“Uhm,” Yangyang licks his lips and visibly gulps under the screen’s bright glare.

He whispers, his voice almost cracking, “As your boyfriend, can I hold your hand?”

Okay, this is just your best friend, acting as your temporary boyfriend, asking to hold your hand. No big deal, no big deal at all.

Yet, the thunderous knocking in your ears, louder than the explosions blasting through the theatre’s speakers, suggests otherwise.

You don’t even register it, but you’re already nodding in response. Your breathing slows to the rate of Yangyang’s hand inching over. At the anticipated contact, you gasp softly. His smooth fingers clasp over yours. Since the arm rest in the middle of you is positioned upward, there’s no obtrusion and you relax, letting your hands mingle in between the empty space.

Without looking at one another, both of you smile bashfully to yourselves as you try to continue to focus on the screen.

After a while, because you aren’t exactly holding hands, you spread your fingers, hastily doing so because you don’t want him to think you’re breaking the interaction, and twist your palm to properly interlock hands with him. You give Yangyang’s hand a warm, gentle squeeze. He does the same and even strokes his thumb against your skin.

Talk about playing everything by ear. Who knew you’d be hand in hand on the first date?

You attempt to not think much on it, but Yangyang’s hand in yours feels... so right, like your hand was made for this, for his to hold. Like you should’ve done this way sooner.

And if Yangyang’s thoughts could be heard, he’s thinking the same.

Despite the mutual fear of sweaty palms, neither of you desire to let go, so much that you not only hold hands during the rest of the movie, but throughout the bus ride back to campus and all the way until he escorts you to your front door.

With a certain charge in the atmosphere, you exchange sweet good-byes. That night, after the culmination of stress from finals and your worries of your holiday exes, you finally have a peaceful sleep, looking forward to your date with Yangyang tomorrow.

DECEMBER 22nd

“Babe, how do I look?”

“Very pretty, honey.” A bundled up Yangyang winks at you from behind his phone.

The second date is an evening at a Christmas light festival at a botanical garden on the outskirts of town. The lights illuminate so strongly; there was a glowing dome-like hue over the location that seemed to reach the dark sky as you got off the bus.

When stepping foot into the garden, all the encompassing lights mesmerize you. Lights on the various greenery, lights as decorative art pieces, lights lining the pathways. Different shades of colours and shapes engulf the massive area.

Yangyang’s currently in the middle of taking your photo near an arch tangled with dark blue, gold, and white bulbs. All night long, you’ve been mockingly using endearing terms, but, despite the frigid air, your cheeks heat up over something else he just said.

“You think I’m pretty?” you genuinely ask, breaking your pose.  

He lowers his phone a bit, his jaw dangling.

“Uh, I mean,” he giggles awkwardly, nodding softly. “Yeah.”

Yangyang never told you, but he initially sat near you in Psych 101 because he thought you were the most stunning girl in the class. And sure, he was a little disappointed at the time to find out you had a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean you two couldn’t still be friends. Other than the first few weeks he had a crush on you, he’s never thought of you as more than a friend.  

But those feelings are resurfacing, hitting him in the chest like a bag of bricks, due to moments like this one—you’re batting your eyelids, gaze straying elsewhere, and adorably chewing on your lower lip.  

“And you’re not just saying that as my holiday boyfriend?”

Pouting to one side, he shakes his head cutely. “Mm-mm.”

On the flipside, the beginning with Yangyang for you was strictly platonic. You were dating Haechan at the time you met him. When Haechan broke up with you later that fall, you kept a distance from dating for a while, heartbroken from the high school love gone sour. During that period, you never told him, but you did run through the possibility of dating Yangyang since you got along so well... until you met Jaemin earlier the next semester, who stole your heart. Ever since then, you’ve never seen Yangyang under that light again.

Despite that, you can’t deny how attractive he is, and now that you’re single and technically dating him, you embrace the fact with open arms.  

Beaming as bright as the lights, you tug him by the end of his puffer jacket’s sleeve to bring him closer to you.

“C’mon, handsome, let’s take some pictures together.” Prickles rise under Yangyang’s cheeks from the off-hand compliment.  

Holding your phone up in the air at about an arm’s length away, the side of your heads touch to prepare for a few selfies. When you finish capturing them, Yangyang’s hovering over your shoulder as you scroll through to glance through the photos.

“We look good together,” you comment. “Don’t you think?”

In sync, your heads turn to meet each other. Your eyes waver from the blatant clouds of your breaths and over to his lips. The clouds become rapid bursts as you begin to lean forward. So does Yangyang.

“Do you guys want a picture together?” someone suddenly asks. The abrupt voice drags you both apart instantly, crushing the moment into pieces.

“Sure,” you peep, fumbling to hand your phone over to the stranger.

Posing, Yangyang’s hand rests around the middle of your back, which is the norm when you take pictures with him, but he pulls you in snugly. You smile even wider, relishing in the new-level of intimacy and allow yourself to be truly content among his presence.

“You guys are such a cute couple,” the stranger gushes while they return your phone prior to walking away.

“I guess we are, huh, babe?” you jut your tongue out in jest at him. This time, you indulge in the endearing term without a sliver of mockery.  

Yangyang copies you, jutting his tongue out further than yours, and seizes your hand to continue the tour around the gleaming garden.

The almost-kiss isn’t mentioned for the rest of the night, nor is it acted upon, but both individuals dwell on the near occurrence before sleep that evening, staring longingly at their bedroom ceiling.

DECEMBER 23rd

For the third date, you find yourselves at the campus’ dedicated ice rink arena to partake in ice skating.

You’ve skated a few times in the past, but you’re by no means a pro. On the other hand, this is apparently Yangyang’s first time, and he’s already skating circles around you.

“Show off,” you grumble as he does another lap past you. Your gloved hands are splayed out in front of you, careful not to fall flat on your face.

Turning on his blades, he rebounds over to you.

“Sorry,” he pants. His raised cheeks glow an adorable shade of pink. “This is really fun when you get the hang of it.”

Yangyang intertwines his fingers with yours before you can say anything. “C’mon, take my hand.”  

At first, it was sweet to skate alongside your holiday boyfriend, notwithstanding the few times you almost trip. As the minutes pass, you think you’re getting the hang of it, but suddenly, Yangyang unleashes your hand and glides ahead of you, abandoning you to slide at a swift pace that is definitely out of your comfort zone.  

“Yangyang, what the fuck?!” you screech, completely disregarding the handful of surrounding parents with their kids, the former sending daggers your direction. Your ankles struggle to make a T-shape to stop, but the struggling only somehow makes you move faster.  

As he spins to face you, now skating backwards with ease, he says, “See, you got the hang of it-oomph—”

Air’s struck from his lungs when you crash into his body. Thankfully, Yangyang skids his blades harshly against the ice and is able to steady and support you within his arms.

“You little fucker,” you gripe, lightly punching him in the arm.

He chuckles blithely, “Sorry, but it was kinda funny, you gotta admit.”

You breathe a large huff, which makes you note how your hair is falling over your face after the catastrophe. You’re about to lift your hand to rearrange the strands, but Yangyang beats you to it and is in the midst of tucking them behind your ear.

The knocking in your ears reappears with a vengeance and the physical source of the knocking is thrashing violently against your chest.

Your scorching breaths fuse in the refrigerated rink as Yangyang eliminates the inches of space between, his plush mouth ultimately converging with yours.

You have to constantly remind yourself to breathe under Yangyang’s intensity, and remind yourself that you’re in a public space and shouldn’t be making out like this.

But everyone’s skating around the couple, daring to not disrupt the affectionate display.

God, you don’t know when was the last time you’ve been kissed like this. Have you ever even experienced a kiss that was a fraction of this? Yangyang daintily cups your cheeks like you’re glass, but his lips press ruggedly into yours, inflaming your entirety and melting any existence of your figurative fragility.  

You ignore the echo in the back of your mind that reminds you he’s your temporary boyfriend.

The Talk will inevitably occur, but your future self could deal with it. Presently, you’re too caught up, drowning in Yangyang’s embrace.

DECEMBER 24th

On Christmas Eve, Yangyang decides to bring you to an outdoor Christmas market.

Understandably, since it’s the day before Christmas, the place is absolutely packed. For the first fifteen minutes or so, it’s joyous being immersed in the Christmas spirit with the assorted little shops and their respective products. You’re holding Yangyang’s hand tightly, pointing and half-shouting over the bustle about the items that catch your eye.

Unfortunately, someone accidentally bumps against your arms and your hand is gone from his.

Swivelling your head, searching through the crowd, it occurs to you that you officially lost Yangyang.

Your feet come to a halt as your hand attempts to dig into your jacket pocket to pluck your phone out, but the moving crowd forces you to constantly follow the stream.

You yell for him, but words can’t materialize. Your windpipe tightens. Your breath is becoming shallower and shallower. Blood pulses in your ears alarmingly, blocking out the clamour from around you. Your mind’s running everywhere without control.

Where is your boyfriend?

No, scratch that, he’s not your actual boyfriend—where is your best friend?

Did he leave you? He would never.

Right?

But what happens when all of this is over? Will you still have your best friend?

You’ve avoided The Talk long enough, but you didn’t expect to catch feelings for him. Not like this.  

Maybe you’re just destined to be alone.

Is this how it feels to actually lose him?

Tears fight your vision. You hear a faint call of your name, but you can’t urge yourself to turn around, sinking only further into the sea of anonymity. You’re just a face in a crowd, all alone, with no one who cares—

Yangyang grasps you by the arm and maneuvers you aside to a less busy area behind one of the vendor stands.

“Oh, God, thought I lost you there—”

You cut him off, hugging him with all your might and stuff your face in his chest cushioned by the downy layers of his winter jacket. Yangyang immediately drapes his arms securely around you, reading your uneasiness.  

“Hey, I got you. I got you,” he soothes, running a hand through your hair. “God, not my best idea. Sorry for bringing you here.”

You shake your head, wordlessly informing him that it’s okay. You’re just glad to be with him again.

“Wanna go home?”

You nod solemnly, and Yangyang zips you out of there in minutes with his arm tucked by your side,  ensuring he doesn’t lose you in the crowd again.

Fortunately, the jitters mostly disappear when you arrive at your place in the late afternoon. You’re in the middle of rummaging through your keys to unlock your door.

“Sorry I didn’t have anything else planned for today,” he mumbles, leaning with folded arms against the wall.

“Did you...” You insert the correct key and turn the lock, clicking the door open. Your gaze lifts to match his. “Did you wanna maybe have dinner with me tonight? I was thinking of ordering pizza in.”

The grin that reaches his eyes is a sufficient answer for you.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He hangs his arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss atop your head.

After chomping down pizza and playing a few rounds of Super Smash Bros. on Yangyang’s Switch, you peer over to him on your living room couch while he’s figuring out which character he should play next.  

The little mental voice in the back of your mind prods you, reminding that you should really, really have The Talk soon. The Talk that you swept under the rug at the start by saying you’d play everything by ear.

Four dates later, and the thought of this ending scares the living daylights out of you. This not only including the interim relationship, but the dire possibility of the friendship itself too. Is it possible to go back to how you were, flipping it off like a light switch?

But the internal voice is smothered as you’re drawn to his pouting lips in thought. His pouting, oh-so kissable lips. Following the ice skating kiss yesterday, you only shared a good-bye kiss when he dropped you off. Since then, you’ve been itching to have his lips on yours again.

Yangyang eventually detects your lack of focus and finds you gawking at his mouth. Your gaze dashes to his eyes, blinking innocently, but then his eyes flicker to your mouth.

The tension in the room snaps. You two carefully throw the Switch controllers off to one side and attach yourselves together. Unlike the crashing of your bodies at the ice rink, this one is purposeful. Deliberated, as his forehead presses into yours and his tender caress carries your cheek. Your body plummets backwards until Yangyang pins you completely into the couch.

Initially, the lip-locking is gentle and mild. Your fingers lay in the vicinity of his angular visage and sturdy upper frame, in contrast to his hand curling around your waist in a light squeeze.

Soon, hands traverse to other regions—his back, your thigh, his stomach, your ass. Each touch seeking, craving, whining. Tongues slinking and dancing with appetite. Your bodies buzz for more.

Open-mouthed kisses transition from the damp lips to each other’s necks. The touches dig deeper, thriving with hunger. Your back bows, body curving into his. Grinding ensues and his robust desire is blatant against your own pulsing passion.

“You don’t happen to have any condoms on you, do you?” you groan upwards to the ceiling.

He retracts from your neck to swing his head side to side, grumbling a “Sorry, we can stop...” yet you interrupt his apology by cupping his covered length. The guttural groan he exhales into your lips makes you shiver with pleasure.

“Doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun with our hands...” you say slyly.

“Fuck yeah,” he rasps, smirking, before diving in again to taste your mouth.

Clothes are stripped with the assistance of each other, leaving you with only your bra on while Yangyang opts to be completely bare. He tops your body in the same position once more.

On the couch arm rest, your head is perched with his hand clutching the space next to it for leverage. Both figures are too scatter-brained to delve into the exquisite nudity of one another, hands flying desperately to your respective arousals.

Your pretty fingers wrap around his possession almost exactly when he dips two digits into your warmth. In unison, two sharp, quiet gasps pierce the room.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he hisses observantly. You’re so overwhelmed by the bliss that you can’t assemble any sort of response.

Your mouth’s parted to one side, chest soaring with each plunge. Through his clouded vision, he ambles over your curves and lines and yearns to see your breasts, but he respects your choice of keeping it on and opts to ambush the expanse with kisses. Your chest is launched further into his mouth and Yangyang assumes you’re enjoying this.

Fearing friction burn, you drop him from your grip momentarily, swiping a few licks over your palm. When your hand pumps him again, now drenched with saliva, grunts reverberate against your skin.  

“Yangyang?” you whimper, causing his face to pull away from the temple of your body.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m-I’m close.” And he can attest to it; the contractions around him are increasing, harshly squeezing his fingers.    

“Same,” he pants.

Your best friend flicks his wrist with ignition, securing your waves of elation. You attempt to do the same, but it’s difficult when he’s also sloppily thrusting himself into your fist, so you simply clench your grasp harder. His features pinch and choppy moans dribble as he yields to his climax, gushing himself over your stomach.  

Still sucking in lungfuls of air, Yangyang kisses you tenderly before removing himself to clean up the mess he made.

Following the clean-up, while putting on your clothes, Yangyang expresses how he should get going since it’s getting late.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you pipe up.

His mind races, debating on whether to leave or not, anxious to blur the lines of your relationship even further.

Sure, he’s your temporary boyfriend, thus staying over at your place shouldn’t mean anything. But this agreement is ending next week, and he’s questioning if you two can stay just friends after this, knowing that he’s going to want more. Yangyang has had a taste of the what if, and it’s now irrevocable.

He wants you all for himself. Selfishly, but deeply.

For the sake of keeping this a great thing for you, he shoves his thoughts aside. This is all about you and for your benefit, anyhow.

“Uh, sure, I can take the couch like I always—”

“Yangyang, you just put your fingers inside of me,” you snicker, snagging him by the hand to your bedroom. “C’mon.”

The rest of the night is relatively chaste with some kisses and touches here and there. Eventually, you fall asleep facing each other with your fingers interlocked, excited for the big day tomorrow.

DECEMBER 25th

Normally on Christmas, Yangyang and you spend it with your respective families, but coincidentally, both of your families, your parents being retired and all, ended up vacationing this year, leaving the two of you to spend it with each other.

After getting up around noon, Yangyang heads to his place to grab his gift. He takes longer than you expected because, as it turns out, he also went home to grab baking goods he bought beforehand since he wants to make butter cookies with you today.

The cookies end up fine, but the mess is another story. Besides the chaos on the counter, your faces and aprons are splotched with flour (you swear he started it, but he disagrees and stands his ground that you’re the perpetrator). With a damp cloth, Yangyang aids you to clean, but not forgetting to wipe your face and giving you pecks over your cheeks and nose.  

The baking and aftermath occupies most of the afternoon, so dinner comes in the form of fancy, romantic instant ramen for two. Afterwards, you two sit in your living room and start to exchange gifts.  

Yangyang hands his over to you first. From the size of the gift and the crumpled, oddly-shaped wrapping, you already can guess it’s a stuffed plushie of a cute animal to add to your never ending collection. You hug it tightly with a large smile.

“It’s so cute, thank you!” you squeal, but you change your expression in an instant to a serious pout. “But you can’t steal this one like you did with my Ice Bear plushie.”

“Hey, I didn’t steal Ice Bear, I just forgot to give him back.” You roll your eyes sarcastically and he laughs. “I’ll bring him over tomorrow, if it makes you feel better.”  

Then, when it’s your turn, you head into your bedroom and come out with a large, white shopping bag. His eyebrows raise, unsure of what could warrant a gift this size.

“For being my holiday boyfriend,” you grin, placing the bag in front of his feet.  

Despite the hugest smile on your face, his heart sinks at the label for a second, but he blinks and wills himself to look inside the bag.

His eyes shoot open, so much that you’re scared you might have to stuff them back into his sockets.

Yangyang slips the box out of the bag with precision and stares at it speechlessly.

It’s the new Playstation.

He shifts his eyes toward you. You’re swaying on the couch, pleased by his reaction.  

“Your parents paid for most of it, so I can’t take all the credit.” Sticking a finger in the air, you add, “You just gotta promise to share custody with me though—”

A hand behind your head yanks you into a deep kiss. He’s not the only one left speechless on the couch. He places the top of his head against yours.

“You’re crazy, but I love—” He quickly catches himself from saying something he might regret. “—I love it so much, thank you. Now I feel bad for getting you only the stuffed animal...”

You shake your head softly, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone.

“Thank you for everything.” Your eyes twinkle. “I couldn’t have asked to spend the holidays with anyone else.”

Carefully, like a newborn baby, he safely situates the boxed Playstation to one side and nabs your lips with his again. The scene feels like repeat of last night as your bodies wrestle passionately on the couch.

“Not to be presumptuous,” he mutters between the kisses upon your neck. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation. “But I also grabbed condoms from my place when I stopped by.”

His words sends the two of you leaping towards your bedroom. Under the dim lighting, you fall into the bed as Yangyang pares your layers off, one by one. With each peel, his lips roam the revealing bare skin. You swear he has kissed you from your literal head to toe when you’re fully nude in front of him.

Your companion drags his shirt over his head, throws it off to your floor, and immediately targets in onto your nub with his mouth, finally satiating his craving from last night.

Fingers thread into his hair and over his flexed back. His tongue swirls and his teeth lightly tug on your perkiness, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And he still isn’t even inside you yet.

After leaving love upon your other bosom, Yangyang fumbles with the condom, forgetting which way it should go on. Giggling, you perch yourself onto your elbows and assist him. Rolling it over his possession, you recline yourself back and spread your legs for him.

Pensively, he sticks his tongue out as he adjusts himself between your sex, easing himself into you, and upon the full impact, you meet his gaze head-on. His stare makes you feel vulnerable and exposed beyond the physical plane.  

But, unlike the others you have been with, you trust him with everything, like you always have, and be free with him. Losing your inhibitions and submitting to your whims, you entangle and become one with Yangyang.  

Behind his hazy vision, Yangyang’s simply thinking how beautiful you are, how he can’t imagine anyone else under his touch but you, how he is willing to give up anything to make you smile.

Well, in this case, he’s willing to give up anything to make you pleased.

However, it doesn’t seem like he needs to do much because you’re howling his name and clinging onto his skin and the sheets in a frenzy, like you’re about to die of exhaustion.

You perish a few times under him before he finally reaches his little death himself, convulsing into the sheath.

When air’s replenished into your bodies, you rest on his chest under your blanket. Glancing up at him, you move some of his tousled hair off his sleek forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Yangyang,” you whisper, snuggling him with a satisfied smile.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he whispers back, giving you one last peck before you both drift into a deep slumber together.  

DECEMBER 26th

Last night took so much out of the both of you, you don’t get out of bed until about the middle of the afternoon. Yangyang doesn’t have anything planned for today since it’s Boxing Day, since the crowds might be crazy wherever you go, so it’s officially a chill, rest day for you both.

When you step out of the shower in fresh clothes, from behind the couch, you watch Yangyang gaming on his Switch.

The little voice in your head looms, prompting that now is the time to have The Talk, and speaks up on your behalf.

“Do we have to end things next week?” you croak.

You see Yangyang’s shoulders stiffen, then he pauses the game and turns around to face you. His gaze follows you as you step closer to the couch, opting to stand.  

“Uhm.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he shrugs. “It’s up to you, it’s your—”

“Yangyang, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking what you think, how do you feel?”

His lips press together and he’s staring at the floor. You can tell the gears are moving, but you can’t read his expression clearly.

“I’m down for whatever you want to do,” he says slowly, eyes still averting yours.

That’s a I’m-your-best-friend answer, you deduce. Not a I-want-to-be-your-actual-boyfriend answer.  

He adds, stuttering, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing this a little longer if that’s what you want—”

Your face scrunches in annoyance. “Did you just sign up to be my short-term boyfriend so you can fill my empty heart?”

His eyebrows crease with confusion. “I mean, I never want to see you unhappy.”

“So it’s pity dating then?” you lash, raising your voice.

“No, I—” Yangyang bites down on his tongue, almost letting the one word slip out again. He blows out a lengthy sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I care about you, so much. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

You’re defining his words as an affirmation of friendship and as an underlying rejection of your love.

You need to know for certain.

“Do you love me, Yangyang?” you blurt. “As more than a friend?”

This is it, Yangyang thinks. This is your chance to let her know how you feel.

But the distress written on your face makes him wonder if he should even go through with it, and it’s intensifying with every passing moment that he’s not speaking.  

If only he knew your distress was deepening because you took his hesitance as absolute rejection.  

Your heart is breaking because of him, and he technically wasn’t even yours to begin with.

You smack your lips together and gulp a few times, trying to make the huge knot in your throat disappear.

“You know what, maybe let’s just forget this arrangement and leave it all behind and forget about the sex and—”

“You wanna stop this?” he utters quietly.

The word “this” hangs heavy in the air. This, carrying the weight of not only being the temporary agreement, but also your friendship.

“Yeah,” you whisper, tears beginning to blur your eyes. “I think I do.”

DECEMBER 28th

Two days have passed since you last saw Yangyang.

That day before he left, Yangyang, feeling guilty for how events unfolded, wanted to give back the Playstation, but you insisted for him to keep it. In spite of everything, it was a Christmas gift to him from you and his parents.

But both of you weren’t sure if the shared custody promise was going to be held up.  

In hopes that things would eventually get better and heal itself, Yangyang thought it’d be best to leave you alone for a while, like how he usually did.

And maybe he was right to do so, but this time is different.

Because he’s on the other end of the stick now; he’s the one who broke your heart.  

Under regular circumstances, whenever you needed space, he was always ready to be there by your side.

But Yangyang’s uncertain if you’re going to let him comfort you this time.  

And you’re uncertain if you even want him to.

DECEMBER 30th

Today, Yangyang finally makes the move to get in touch with you, texting you to call him, but you don’t, so he leaves a voicemail later in the evening.

“There’s a New Year’s party I’m going to tomorrow,” he starts off, then spews the specific details.

There’s a pause and you hear shuffling in the background. You assume he’s pacing around.

“I know you ended our agreement, but I wouldn’t mind fulfilling my end since New Year’s is the last day tomorrow. I’d be really glad if you came to the party with me, whether it be as my friend or my girlfriend.”

Another pause.

On the other end, Yangyang rubs his palm over his face, considering whether or not he should say it. If you picked up the phone call, he was going to do it anyway, but this just felt improper. He wants to say it when he knows you’re listening in real-time, so he ends off the message with:

“I miss you. So much.”

DECEMBER 31st

It’s 8:40PM. Before Yangyang buses out to the party, he’s back at your front door for one more shot. His fist taps at your door, cognizant that you wouldn’t be elsewhere since your other friends are out of town for the holidays. Despite that, you don’t come to the door. Nevertheless, he speaks to you through the wooden barrier.

“Hey, I know you want to be left alone, but I just wanted to see if you changed your mind about the party.”

Still no answer. He lets out a sigh and prays the following will incite a reaction from you.  

“About the question that you asked me that night...”

He closes his eyes and allows his mouth to carry him.

“I do. I do love you. As both my best friend and more. I’m sorry if I hurt you that night by not saying anything, but I love you so much and I think we should give us a shot.”

Still no answer. Yangyang continues.

“Look, I know it’s scary and crazy to date your best friend. I’m scared too, but you know what? I’m okay with being scared. I’ve watched you gone through those assholes over the last few years and maybe you’re scared I’ll end up like one of them, but unlike them, I don’t think you’re horrible or needy or emotional—you’re beautiful, intelligent, and strong for putting up with all those fuckers.”

He leans his forehead gently against the door.

“And even if we ever do break up, and this is a big if because I’ll always try my hardest with you to make it work, I’ll still be your friend. I promise. You won’t lose me ‘cause I need you in my life. I gotta keep my end up for the custody of the Playstation, right?”

A smile breaks over his face from his joke, but still. Radio silence.  

“Can you at least say something?” he begs.

After a few minutes, realizing he needs to probably give you more time to be left alone, he departs and heads to the party.

Originally, you actually were planning on attending the party to see Yangyang to make-up with him.

Unfortunately, out of all the days you had to take a late afternoon nap, it had to be today.

And you overslept. Big time. 

At 10:55PM, you scramble awake, realizing you’re absolutely late to the event. Since the party’s downtown, you know calling an Uber or Lyft there would be fast, but tonight’s the worst night for any share riding service and there aren’t any available drivers. Thus, you have to manage with busing there.

It’s 11:40PM when you finally reach downtown, but the bus can’t take you all the way to the core centre where the party is; hordes of people are out on the streets and traffic is dreadful. God, you’re going to be cutting it close to midnight, but you make a run for it.

You’re grateful the party is on the second floor of a small building because you slide in right through the entrance at 11:58PM. You rush to call Yangyang’s phone, hoping he’ll pick up as you try to find him in the scattered groups of people.

You begin to holler for him in hopes he can hear you, but the countdown is happening, drowning out your voice. Thirty seconds left until the clock strikes for the new year.

When his number finally goes to voicemail, you redial his number. Suddenly, a hand grasps you by the wrist.

Yangyang looks at you, dumbfounded.

“When did you get here?”  

The harmonious chanting around you floods your surroundings.

“Ten, nine, eight...”

Getting closer to him, you practically scream into Yangyang’s face, trusting he’ll hear what you’re about to say.

“I know Christmas is over, but I want to change my wish.”

“Seven, six, five...”

“I know you might not feel the same and I know things might not work out.”

“Four, three, two...”

”But I wish to date you past New Year’s until whenever, however long we last.”

“One...”

“I love you, Yangyang—”

The one you love snatches you by the waist and your cheek, stealing your lips at the last millisecond before midnight.

“Happy New Year!”

A wave of noisemakers, clappers, and hollering erupt around the room. After it dies down a bit, Yangyang shocks you with a scolding.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I came over?!”

Confusion rushes over you. You realize he probably came by when you were sleeping. 

“You came over?!”

“Yeah, I confessed my love for you.”

“Wait,” you blink blankly, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Your love?”

“Yeah,” he nods, giving you his cheesy, adorable smile.  “I love you.”

“As more than a friend?” you clarify.

“Babe,” Yangyang’s thumb caresses your cheek. “I don’t think I could ever go back to wanting less with you.”

Your lips tremble with relief as your gaze melts in his.

“And, anyway, who else am I going to share the Playstation with?”

“Well, I mean, you do have Hendery, Xiaojun, Winwin...” you start to count his infinite list of friends on your fingers.  

“Yeah, but I need you so I can constantly beat your cute little butt at games.”

“You do not constantly beat my cute little butt at games, I’ll have you know that I beat you at—”  

Yangyang shuts you up with another kiss, the one of many for the rest of the night.

JANUARY 2nd

It’s your second morning at Yangyang’s place. You’ve only done it a few times now, but you realize that waking up in his arms is one of the greatest feelings in the world, second only to his kisses.  

In his bed, spooning you from behind, he grumbles into the nape of your neck, “Morning, girlfriend.”  

Half-awake, you mumble back, “Morning, boyfriend,” and sink deeper into the curve of his body.

Content, you finally broke your string of cursed holiday break-ups for good.  

And all it took was to be with the one who was in front of you all this time.

[beardrabbles]

invitation.

characters: GN!reader, claude, mentions of GN!byleth

warnings: none

word count: 2,814

notes: posted this on ao3 ages ago and totally forgot to post it here too :’) got into the fandom late, like alwaaaays! but i have an enormous claude / golden deer bias and wanted to write some fluff with him.

You forgot sometimes that this peaceful spot tucked between the trees wasn’t yours alone. You shared it with another from time to time, but it had been so long since the last time you both stepped foot in the clearing that it startled you to hear footfalls crunching at the grass behind you. Pushing yourself up halfway, eyes blinking blearily, you spotted the richly dressed prince with his hands planted on his hips.

“Napping without me?” Claude clicked his tongue, and you quickly replied with a roll of your eyes.

“I can’t nap here on my own?” You fell back again, letting the soft grass cushion you. A soft, content sigh escaped through your nose as the sweetest of breezes barely brushed your skin. It smelled of flowers and damp leaves, dense soil and a distant storm. There was no zing of hot iron or blood, and it was a relief.

“I thought it was our thing.  .  .”

You felt him sit beside you, taking up his usual position to your left. The tiniest flutter tickled the inside of your ribs, his nearness nearly making your head spin. “Before I came along, it was just your thing, remember?”

“Well, yeah, but I like it better this way.” Claude leaned back on his hands, eyes up towards the greying sky. It had taken fighting a war to bring back their usual glimmer, but it was there in full. Bright, hopeful, determined. Laying there, gazing up at the unsuspecting prince, it was almost as if you were looking at the man from five years ago — the cunning, clever and sometimes troublesome man that you had fallen head-over-heels for and had continued to painfully pine for.

“Me too.” You dared to smile, his gaze shifting to you. Adoring him hurt, but no amount of hurt would have you appreciating his presence any less.

Claude returned the smile, and the gesture sent your heart slamming against your chest. But just as quickly as it came, the smile faded. “I spoke to Byleth.”

You sat up in an instant, concern etched into your face. You were aware that he had gone to meet them, but he had failed to tell you why. You equally failed to push the subject, as it wasn’t your place to disrespect a man in his position. Curious as you might have been, you assumed it was best not to ask and only hope that he trusted you enough to confide in you later. Seemed you were right, though you acknowledged to yourself that it was a rare thing.

“How did it go?”

“They’re disappointed I won’t be here for the coronation. I can’t blame them. After everything we’ve been through together, I should be here for them. I want to hope they understands. They always have.” He exhaled sharply. “But, hey, I got to see them smile again! I think as long as they’re here, Fódlan will be in good hands. If they keeps smiling, if they keep breaking down the walls that were built up, I can go home and do my part there. I trust them.”

You shifted, feeling uncomfortable in your envy.

“So they’re not coming with you to Almyra?” You wondered. Claude shook his head.

“No, and I didn’t want to ask. Fódlan needs to be taken care of. It needs a parent that will hold its hand and lead it in the right direction. It’s gonna stumble around like an infant walking for the first time, but that’s why they’re the best person to lead. They’ll know what to say and do to help this little baby along.”

You screwed up your face and nudged him with your shoulder.

“You really like talking about babies.” You pointed out. Claude’s cheeks and the tips of his ears darkened a fraction, but he dismissed it with a hearty chuckle.

“I guess I do. I wonder why that is.” He trailed off, voice soft but nowhere near as confused as his words would have lead you to believe. You had long ago resigned yourself to never truly understanding him, so you shrugged. Trying to pick through his mind was like attempting a hedge maze without a map.

“Does that mean you’re going to be heading back soon?”

“I can’t stay for long. There’s so much I need to do if I’m going to see things through, but there’s something important I need to do here before I can go home.” There was sharpness to his eyes that you recognized and deeply adored. He was planning something, and you felt your curiosity rise again.

“What is it? Can I help?” You were always so quick to offer him aid. Usually, he gently denied it, stating time and time again that most of his schemes were for his mind alone. Things often worked out for the better that way. The fewer people that knew, the less chance they could commandeer the plan or ruin it. Yet you still asked just in case he needed you.

“Maybe. Before that, can I ask you something?”

You frowned. “Of course. You can ask me anything, you know that.”

“You’ve been saying that since we met. Is it really true?” Claude smirked and raised a single brow, only for you to shove him harmlessly.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” You eyed him for a moment, worry mounting. “Was that what you wanted to ask me?”

The prince shook his head, as if he were getting off track. “No. I wanted to know where you plan to go. What are your plans for the future?”

“Oh! Oh.” You frowned when the sudden realization that you had no plans slammed into you. “I don’t.  .  . know. I haven’t thought about it. I’ve been so busy supporting everyone else, doing what I can for them, that I don’t know what to do with myself. Everyone’s grown up. They’re all doing their own thing, starting their own lives. No one needs me anymore.”

“That’s not true.” Claude’s voice was firm in your ear, and his expression was set to match. You smiled meekly.

“I grew up with all of you, but it felt like my purpose was to help you all find yours. Not that I really think I’m capable of being that helpful, but I never took the time to think about myself. I was too worried about you all reaching your dreams that I didn’t have one. I don’t have one.” You amended the last part quickly because it was blatantly clear to you that you had no direction to go in.

“There has to be something you want.” Claude pushed. You laughed.

“At the risk of repeating myself, I want what you want. I want you to succeed.” You opened your mouth again, but were quick to clamp them shut when another thought arose. I want to be with you.

It was lovely to imagine, but you had lived with the fact that any future with him was left solely to your imagination. You met him as an heir, and you knew him now as a prince. The differences in your status was vast and hard to ignore. Claude had his mind set on making those differences unimportant, but you doubted that he could find room in his heart for you. He had a country to take care of and love, not to mention you two had been friends since the start of your time at the academy. Too much time had passed since then, and while your feelings had grown deeper and more troublesome, you were sure he had none to begin with. No, as students, he had been too preoccupied with tormenting you. Teasing, poking, taking up your time with nonsense and rarely giving you a moment to yourself.

Despite him being a brat at times, you loved him. And even if he didn’t reciprocate, you were grateful to have known him at all.

“So you’re not bound to Fódlan?” His voice shook you from your thoughts.

“What?”

“Do you have any obligations here in Fódlan?” His gaze was so intently set on you that it made you squirm, the feeling ten times worse since coming out of your own head.

“No, not that I can think of.” You couldn’t recall making any promises.

“Right, so you could leave.” Claude hummed thoughtfully and got to his feet. Once upright, he dusted the grass from his clothes and offered you a hand. Confused, you took it and let him pull you into standing.

“I guess I could, but where would I even go? I don’t know anyone outside of Fódlan.” You felt something subtle was being said, you couldn’t catch on. Some days, you could. You had learned him just as he had learned you, but he was always several steps ahead. You could read him, but only the pages he allowed you to see. In this case, the pages were written on, but only in bits and pieces.

Claude gave you a pointed stare and a gentle, encouraging squeeze to your hand. When you failed to understand, he raised both eyebrows and pointed to himself. No words were needed. His gestures and odd line of questioning were like a clarifying slap to the face. You reeled, giving him a wide-eyed stare while sputtering idiotically.

“Wh——”

“That took you while. I was starting to worry I’d have to spell it out for you.” Claude put on a convincing pout. “Unless this is your weird way of telling me you don’t want to come with me.”

“No!” You leaped too soon, your eagerness prompting a smirk on the prince’s face. You fell silent again, worried that saying anything more might reveal all of what you had been trying to hide for over five years. “I’m not saying that.”

“What are you saying?” He purred cunningly, hand still holding tightly to yours. You didn’t resist when he to eased you closer, your heart screaming in your chest. Cheeks red and breaths shallow, you could hardly think. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

I’m still napping, and this is just another stupid dream.

You swallowed hard and peered up at him. “I think I should be asking you that, Mr. Vague.”

“Ah-ah,” chided the cheeky man, “you’ll have to address me as Prince Vague now.”

You scoffed and gave him another shove. When your hand pressed to his shoulder, he trapped it there with his own. Even closer now, Claude lowered his head until your noses nearly touched. You sucked in a breath and found yourself unable to move away, attention trapped in his bright, beautiful eyes.

“You want to know what I’m asking you?” He lowered his voice, tone growing tender and warm. You nodded. “I’m asking if you’ll come home with me. I want you to meet my parents and my people, and I want them to meet you. I want them to love you as much as——”

He choked for a moment, a rare flicker of pure emotion startling him.

“As much as what?” You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but he was making it incredibly difficult not to.

Claude calmed himself with a shaky breath and tilted his chin down, lips barely ghosting the curve of your cheek. His eyes fluttered half closed, while a single lock of his dark hair tickled at your cheek. When you didn’t shy away, he spoke again in honeyed tones. “I want them to love you as much as I do.”

“You can’t mean that.” Your entire being felt numb with glee, but you couldn’t process his confession without a little doubt. He met your doubt with a chuckle, so you persisted. “Why me?”

“Why not you?” He nuzzled into your cheek, and you felt the compulsion to reach up and thread your fingers through his hair. You had done so many times before, letting the gentle touches calm him during his bad days, but there was new meaning behind it now. There was an honest love behind it as your dragged your fingers through the strands, pushing them back and away from his darling face.

“There were so many others.  .  .” So many people wanted his attention, his affection. You were but one in a thousand that longed for him.

“I didn’t care. I dreamed of many futures, and all of the best ones had you standing there beside me.” He muttered into you, the softest of kisses resting just under your eye.

“We argued so much.” You shuddered, warmth blooming in your cheeks.

“You kept me grounded. How can anyone expect to be a decent ruler if they’re always agreed with?” He countered. You huffed and tried to think of another argument.

“You used to tease me all the time.” You muttered.

“I’ll admit that was dumb of me, but it felt like the only way to get your attention.” His lips found the tip of your nose, and you couldn’t contain a snicker. “You looked so cute when you were embarrassed, especially when you wrinkled your nose. I couldn’t help it.”

“Why do I feel like you still can’t help it?” You tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear and let your fingers follow the path of his facial hair. He was putty in your hands, cheek pressing to your hand.

“It’s part of my charm.” Claude flashed his usual smile, then took a step back. The lack of closeness left you feeling a little colder, but the distance let you appreciate him fully. Tall, handsome, commanding. You were exceedingly proud of him, and you felt yourself falling for him all over again. But before you could think to speak, he started again. “You don’t have to answer me right away. I know this a lot to ask of you, so I want to give you the time you need. I’m leaving in two days. Meet me at the——”

You didn’t allow him to finish. Your heart was too full and on the verge of bursting, and it seemed silly to you that he didn’t know what your answer would be when he was so skilled at predicting you. Rather than let him wonder, you removed your hands from his and took his face between them. You gathered your courage, mustered with his help, and pulled him down for a soft but silencing kiss.

Claude wasn’t often rendered speechless, but he supposed he didn’t mind being put in his place if it meant your lips fitting against his as perfectly as they did. Unfortunately for him and the heat radiating throughout him, you didn’t let the kiss last long. He wanted to wrap you in his arms and crush you against his chest like he’d long to for years, but you parted from him too soon for his liking.

“Where are you going?” He took chase, but you placed your hand over his mouth. Claude stilled and arched a brow.

“I’ve had my answer for years, Claude. I’m with you in every possible way. But if I ask you a question, will you answer me honestly?” You uncovered his mouth, but his silence told you more than words would. “How long have you, uh.  .  .”

“Cared for you? Admired you? Wanted to kiss you the way you just kissed me?” Every question he posed in response to yours made your heart thud and your cheeks burn. “A long, long time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I was never given the chance.” He answered so surely that you wondered if he had those words prepared. You couldn’t pester him about it — too many things had gone horribly wrong during your time at the academy, and it didn’t make sense to plant seeds in dead soil. There would have been no guarantee that it would bloom and flourish, but with the land starting a slow recovery, you hoped that what you two started here would become lusher and more far-reaching than any forest in Fódlan.

“It’s alright.” You giggled giddily and granted him another kiss, this one to the corner of his lips. “We were given our chance, and you took it.”

“Does that mean you’re going home with me?” He asked.

“I told you——”

“I want to hear you say the words.” Claude softly pleaded. Weak for his doe eyes, you melted in his arms and relented.

“I’m going home with you, Claude. I want to meet your parents, and I want to get to know your people. And for as long as I’m there, for as long as you’ll have me, I want to get to know you better.”

A soft sigh tinged with relief escaped the man as his head came to rest on your shoulder. His grasp on you tightened, and you felt his heart beat against your chest.

“Thank you.”

You smiled and embraced him. “Don’t thank me. Just take me home.  .  .”

[secondhand-trash]

Catnip

Kinktober 2020 — aphrodisiac

A/N: not me searching up feline sexual behaviours as reference no I am not-

Pairing: neko!Kozume Kenma x f!reader

Description: Kenma felt like all his senses were being lit on fire when you came home one day with a very odd scent lingering on you.

Warning: aphrodisaic, dry humping, oral (giving), face fucking, slightly dubcon undertones midway, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, kenma is a cat boy but you already know by the title

Word count: 3747

-

Something was up with your scent, Kenma noticed that the moment you stepped through the door.

Even though he was all the way down the corridor in his gaming room, his ears perked up instantly when the abnormal scent flushed into his nostrils, twitching on top of his head as the sound of your steps got louder and louder.

“I’m home!” you latched onto him from the back as always, burying your face onto his soft ears and sighed at how satisfying it was. He felt chills running along his spine as the unfamiliar scent became overwhelmingly strong, his tail pointing as he went into high alert under his feline instincts of feeling like there was a strange entity that had crossed into his territory. There was a stir in his stomach as he felt his skin warming up as you rubbed the tip of his ears with your fingers, sighing about how long your day had been and how you had been thinking about getting home as quick as you could all day.

“I even took a shortcut,” you said, your arms that were wrapped around his shoulders now loosening up as you prepared to change out of your work clothes, “never again though, that road was barely visible with all the weed that grew all over it and it’s kinda scary at night.”

Kenma didn’t say anything, his eyes going wide as he blankly stared ahead at his screen. His nostrils flared, trying hard to make sense of what it was that you now smell of. He shuddered when you ran your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly behind his ears but he still didn’t respond to you in any way. You tilted your head, confused as to what had gotten into him but decided to leave him be with a peck on top of his head.

Cats, no one could understand them except themselves when they got into the mood.

Kenma acted very distant, and much more... cat-like than he usually was in the hours to follow. He just kept staring at you and skittering around when you tried to initiate any physical affection. He was always a bit on and off when it comes to clinginess and you had learned a long time ago that looking at someone from a distance away was also part of the feline love language but his gaze felt almost threatening tonight. His pupils were two thin lines right in the center of his golden orbs, eyeing you like he was observing his prey with his tail flicking behind him. He went on high alert every time you moved from where you were at, his ears pointing up as his stare immediately followed you.

“Kenma, I’m going to take a shower. Do you need to use the bathroom?” you asked, peeking out of the corridor with your clothes. He seemed startled when you looked into his eyes, scurrying away until he was at the other end of the room. He was so strange today, you would have to bring it up to him later when he got back to normal.

Kenma let out a deep breath when the bathroom door locked and the sound of water running subtly passed through his ears. He had been feeling so on edge around you all day, ever since he picked up on the scent lingering on you. It was sweet, a sickly sweetness that made his skin crawl and hair going up in all the directions. He could barely sit still when you got close to him and he was having a bad feeling as to what exactly it was that you had got the scent from. 

The scent lingered in the air even when you were in the shower, making him feel an odd burn on his face. Sniffing around, the scent got stronger and stronger as he paced towards your shared bedroom. The closer he got to the source, the hotter his face felt. His breaths were heavy despite his best efforts to calm down and his fist curled and uncurled as the muscles of his stomach spasm. The long jacket that you wore to work was laid out on the bed and he cursed his instincts when he could not help but crawl on top of the crisp material. The sweetness was now overbearingly strong and his head felt stuffed like he just got a fever out of nowhere. 

He trailed down from the collar, sniffing along the way until he got to the hem and his mind exploded when the smell completely overtook his brain like a punch right at his guts.

It spread through his body like a rush of warm current entering his system, seeping into his skin and making his back arched in reflex. Every last bit of his rationality told him to get away, to stop letting this strange substance overwhelm him but his body already gave in to the primal instinct tickling his head. The claws at the tip of his fingers extended and retracted, bunching up the sheets underneath him as he brought the jacket closer to his face. He let out a choked whimper as his limbs felt like they were out of his control, every fiber in his body flaming up as the mix of your scent and the sweet smell evaded his senses. He twisted around uncontrollably, falling onto his side as he clutched the material in hand. 

More. He wanted more.

The pounding in his ear was all he could process as his body moved on its own, desperately searching for any hint of relief for the pulsing ache in his groins that was taking over his brain. He let out a soft hiss at the first roll of his hips against the mattress, burying his face to inhale the lingering scent as he humped against the surface desperate for friction. 

For a second, he was both hyperaware and too drown in the blood rushing through his veins to pick up anything happening around him. The sheets wrinkling up underneath him as his legs kicked uncontrollably to steady himself while grinding down, the growing warmth in his core from the friction that was not enough, the hint of your perfume at the collar of the jacket that wasn’t masked by the unknown scent. It all crashed up on him like a storm as he snapped his hips forward vigorously around nothing. He was too lost and in too unclear of a state of mind to care that his muffled moans were getting louder and louder or that the sound of the running shower had stopped.

“Hn... Ah- hmp!”

You paused in your steps when you walked into your room to hear the erotic whimpers of your usually collected boyfriend. Your hand that was holding up the towel wrapped around your torso clutched at the soft white material as a spark jolted through your spine in shock at the sight of Kenma grinding against the bed with your jacket in hand. His hips curving up with each lift and his feet clawing beneath for leverage. The fur on his tail was standing up straight as it pointed upwards, his ears pressed flat on his head and his face buried into your outerwear.

“Kenma...?”

He jolted when you called for his name. Turning around in an agonisingly slow pace, your breath hitched in your throat when you saw his pupils dilute the moment it landed on your scantily clad form. His golden eyes burnt onto your skin, scanning you from top to bottom. You could see his chest heaving much more strongly the moment he stopped at your exposed collar and bare legs that still had beads of moisture dripping down their lines. If his body was burning before, then now it felt like a heavy downpour right after a long day of blatant sunshine, the hot steam rising up in the air until he could barely even breathe.

You took tentative steps towards the bed, his breathing getting more and more erratic with each flare of his nostrils. His fingers dug into the jacket he cast an iron grip on when you got closer, the floral scent of your shower gel mixing into the bombard of signals that his brain was already receiving. Facing him directly as he crouched over the bed, you could see the obvious print straining against his sweatpants. His ears twitched when you slowly grabbed onto the jacket and you could feel his hands shaking when your fingers held onto his wrist, gently peeling the coat away from his hand.

He snapped the moment you leaned up and kissed him square on the lips.

His hands latched onto you in an instance, ripping a hiss from the back of your throat with his claws that he had forgotten to retract back with nothing but the want of feeling you in his head. He greedily slipped his tongue past your lips at the slightest pant you made, stealing away every ounce of oxygen in your lungs with his ruthless evasion. He moaned into your mouth, the feeling of your skin cooling his burning system down and he peeled away the towel on your body with a rough yank to search for more. His hard-on was pressed up against your pussy, his hands placed firmly at the sides of your hips to hold you down.

Smells so good. He buried his face at the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent to the most of his desires. His teeth scraped past your skin, making you tilt your head back instinctively before he bit down. You yelped at the sudden pain, chills crawling all over your arms when he followed the bite with a few kitten licks of his textured tongue. Your hands flew to wrap around his neck, clutching onto him as he ground against you and continued his nibbling all along your shoulders. You felt the familiar stir at the pit of your stomach at his needy moans and the friction he applied to your sex, his erection feeling incredibly hot when rubbing against you. 

“Ke- Kenma!” 

A string of incomprehensible noises resembling a weak scrawl rumbled from his chest at your pant, the pace of his hips only getting faster. He was a lot sloppier than he usually was when he had you pinned down underneath him, the usual calculation gone without a trace and all was replaced by the carnal desire of getting more, more, more. 

His breath was hot on your neck, the patches where he had left bite marks on burning from the pain and the feeling of his tongue still lingered. Your own wetness was starting to seep out of you, leaving a mark on his sweatpants as he humped against you. He was starting to get impatient as his shoulders tensed up, his jaw clenched tightly as he bit his lips. He shuddered as the first wave of his orgasm hit, the warmth reaching to your body with the stickiness that was seeping through the cotton of his loungewear. You held his head with a breathy coo, patting the back of his neck as you coaxed him down.

The look in his eyes was near dangerous when he sensed that you wanted to move away from his grip, pushing your hips down as he perched on top of you again. Your eyes widened when you saw the tent that had yet to gone away beneath the darker patch on his crotch from his cum. 

You knew that something was up with him when he was acting weird around you, but you did not expect him to act up like this.

"Mph-!” he let out a choked moan when you pressed your palm flat on his semi-erection as you gave his shoulder a light push. He protested when you got up, only to shudder when you hooked your fingers under the elastic band of his pants and yanked it down. 

His cock was an angry shade of red, a bead of pre already forming at the tip even after cumming once. His face was flushed, staring at you with glassy eyes as you sat back on your knees in front of him. Kenma let out a loud whimper when you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, feeling it pulsed and filled up in your hand. You licked a long strip from the base all the way up to his tip, pressing your tongue flat against it before licking away the white droplet at the slit. You were gripping onto his thighs for leverage and his muscles spasm under your touch even with you barely doing anything. 

His hands were fast to find their way to your hair when you sunk down on his length, the heat in his chest far too unbearable for him to accept your pace. A sudden pull at your scalp took you by shock and as your lips wrapped around his girth, an instant soreness shot up from your throat up to your nose when he thrust up without warning. Tears welled up in your eyes as your gag reflex was taken hold by his cock hitting against the back of your throat, drool pooled in your mouth as you gasped but he was too gone to notice your discomfort. You struggled to gulp as he continued to fuck your face with a hold on your hair that was a bit too tight, the pain making you arch your back in reflex. Your vision was clouded by the tears in your eyes, each slam of your head down shoving your lips all the way to the very base of his cock, your nose almost touching his pubic hair before he pulled out with the help of your spit that was leaking out from the corners of your mouth.

Kenma tilted his head back as he used your mouth to his pleasure, the feverish redness on his face spreading all the way to the tip of his ears and down his neck. His hair was matted to the frames of his face with sweat, his tail stiffly pointed as his hips clenched with each thrust into your warm mouth. Your face was a mess, tears rolling down your chin and met with the trails of spit that was dribbling down at the edge of your jaw. Your fingers dug into his thighs as you tried to focus on the lewd moans falling off his parted lips and the way his body shook each time your throat contracted around his cock. Your jaw felt slack like it would unhinge if his rough treatment goes on any longer and your throat was beyond sore, your voice was sure to betray the events of tonight for the many days to come.

You were starting to feel a cramp creeping up onto the side of your thighs when he twitched in your mouth, the vein on his cock pulsing as his grip on your hair tightened. Your eyes rolled back when he pulled down, holding you firmly as the first taste of saltiness dripped on your tongue and down your throat. You tried to ignore the discomfort in your nasal, fixing your gaze on his blissful expression through your eyelashes that were blurred by your tears. It was rare to see Kenma completely letting go but today you saw his lust being displayed in the rawest form.

The sight of you struggling to swallow his load was far from pretty. You clutched your chest as you tried to breath, the warm liquid going down your throat made you hurt a little from the burn. More of your spit drooled out of your lips with his cum, dripping down from your face down your neck and onto your tits. 

You heaved as you looked up at him only to see that he was looking at you already. Whimpering when he latched onto you, his skin was still hot under your touch as his tongue swiped across your bottom lips. 

Another smell now mixed into the symphony of scents that was spreading with your heat and it was the signs of his mark on you. 

It only did the opposite to calming down whatever it was that was affecting his body and mind.

“Kenma, wait-” 

You were cut short when he pushed you down on the mattress, now hovering above you and shadowing you completely. His tail flicked behind him as he stared down at you. He was blocking the light from you and from beneath him, it was like his eyes were glowing in the shadows as he lowered himself onto you.

“Ah!” you mewled at the feeling of his cock pushing into your cunt, the lack of stimulation beforehand making the stretch all the more permanent. He let out the most sinful whine at the feeling of your tight walls clamping down on him. If humping against you and being wrapped up by your lips had let off the steam that was threatening to over pour in him, then finally being inside your tight cunt was what had the lid tipping over. 

You scratched down his back when he started moving, the pain slowly replaced with pleasure when your slick coated around his length with each push and pull. Your legs wanted to give in but you muttered out the last bit of your strength to sling them around his waist. The movements of his body were sloppy, his face right in front of yours as he plowed into the furthest he could reach. 

“H- hmph! So good- so good...” His voice came out as a purr, the vibrations hitting you in full force as he pressed up against you. 

It was the smell of sweat and your entangled scents that fueled him when the sound of skin slapping against skin and irregular pants bounced off the walls. If it had just been the sweet aphrodisiac that tainted your clothes, he was sure that he could at least keep part of his control but then you came in at just the best wrong timing and flood him over with the worst itch he had ever felt.

You pulled him in for a kiss, your hands reached for the back of his head as your tongues tangled together with each bounce of your body under his force. He hilted in you when you scratched down on the back of his ear, feeling his entire body shook. This egged him to go faster, the shivers traveling all over his body to the very tip of his toes at the mind-melting numbness like volts of electricity. 

The fist in your core coiled and you felt your body being set on fire with the heat on his skin transferring to you. His eyes were shut tight into two thin lines as he pressed his forehead against yours, his hot breath fanning across your face with each exhale. 

"I'm close-” your voice came out trembling, your nails digging down his back but he didn’t seem to even notice the pain at all. You hands flailed as you felt your orgasm building up, clumsily searching for the one spot you knew could push him to the edge until you felt something soft and fuzzy brushing over your hand.

“Hugh-” 

A yank at the base of his tail had him throwing his head back, his body shaking from the sudden stimulation. You did it again, this time more forcefully as his thrusts became more rapid.

You never thought you would hear such a sound fell from his lips as he came crashing down, shooting ropes of cum inside of your fluttering cunt. It was a high pitched sound with his voice breaking a little at the end. He had his eyes rolled back, pupils dilated and unfocused as his tongue darted out from the corner of his plump lips. You were completely worn out but still couldn’t help but marvel at how pretty he was when he gave in utterly. The stickiness ran down the root of your thighs as he stayed inside of you, the parts where your bodies connected still emitting warmth and spreading all over your system.

You stared up as the ceiling as your hands fell to your sides, collecting your breath.

This had got to be the last one.

You nearly let out an exasperated gasp when you felt him slowly getting hard inside of you again.

The sudden emptiness when he pulled out of you had you whining, his cum gushing out of your abused hole when he flipped you over. You barely had any strength to arch your back up when he gripped onto your ass, holding you up as you buried your face into the pillow in front of you. 

Your moans were muffled when he entered you again, your still sensitive cunt spasming around him and pushing more of your mixed fluids out of you. You were sure that your mess was dripped down and pooling between your knees already but you couldn’t think of that right now when he was balls deep inside of you again.

He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on the back of your neck as if he was apologising, before jerking your body forward with a strong hilt.

-

Kenma’s purrs filled your ears when he finally flopped down next to you, pulling you close to his chest so you could calm down with the soothing sound of the rumbling from his throat.

You were still heaving when you finally found the voice in you to speak up, sounding ridiculously strained from all the screaming and squealing you had been doing.

“What was that...?”

“Catnip.”

You looked up at him, “what?”

“You smelled like catnip when you came back,” he sighed, rubbing circles on your back, “and I snapped.”

You blinked, your eyes widening when you finally made the connection between the weed-covered shortcut you took that night and everything that ensued afterwards.

“I’m never taking that route ever again.”

Kenma hummed, burying his nose in your hair when you shifted in his hold.

“But...” your eyes were glinting with a spark that didn’t seem like it belonged to someone who was so tired out, “the fact that you had such little resilience towards catnip could be useful information...”

He sighed, pressing you closer to his chest to hide your cheeky grin away.

“Don’t start anything you couldn’t finish.”