#i want to finish 2 more fics this month and i think it's doable but i am a slow writer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luvteez · 4 years

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bassists do it deeper

pairing: yunho x genderneutral!reader genre + tags: smut, band au | kink discovery, exhibitionism, a brief segment of semi-public sex, hand kink, size kink, yunho monster cock bc this deserves a tag, power play, switch dynamics (i think??), dom!yunho pulls through in the end, unprotected sex wc: 6.3k

note: big thanks to my fav babie @lustjoong for motivating me to combine the two ideas i had for the prompt into one and motivating me to finish this!! here’s my take on the unspoken obligatory yunho size kink fic every ateez smut writer should have written once but make him a bassist. also, the band au to this pwp is literally just there as an excuse to make yeosang the lead singer of the band bc if kq won’t give yeosang lines, i will

A lot can happen throughout a single weekend, as your English professor suddenly quitting her job, your brother Yeosang almost burning down the kitchen from deep frying an egg, an influx of voicemails in your inbox all sent from Wooyoung, as well as Yeosang’s punk rock band losing a member. It’s a lot to process when all you’ve done is stay the night at Yuqi’s, even harder so when Wooyoung keeps repeating every five seconds that Seonghwa quit the band. (”Why did it have to be Seonghwa who left Stereowave? He was the hottest one!”)

That being said, you expected to come home to a beyond grumpy Yeosang who was trying to find a replacement asap. A band without a bassist sounds empty, and while Stereowave has garnered a big enough fanbase over the years that wouldn’t mind the band continuing as a trio, it just feels wrong. Besides, branding a group consisting of Yeosang the frontman, San the guitarist, Mingi the drummer, and nobody covering the bassist position a band doesn’t sit right.

You were prepared for the worst; a messy kitchen, Yeosang walking around in clothes he wore for five days straight, possibly the outbreak of World War III depending on how shitty he’s feeling. But instead, you find the kitchen exceptionally clean and Yeosang acting as if nothing ever happened.

“Can you help set up the camera? The guys and I wanna film a new song.”

“Uh, sure,” you answer irritatedly. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned about finding a replacement for Seonghwa though?”

“Oh, we already have a new bassist,” he waves off casually, “What are you gaping at? Shut that jaw of yours before flies fly into your nasty mouth.”

“First of all, rude.” Yeosang rolls his eyes at that comment. For a split second, you’re contemplating letting him figure out on his own how to use the camera because he’s the walking embodiment of a technology illiterate, but your curiosity about the new band member is bigger. “But how did you manage to find a new replacement so fast? It’s been like, what, a day since Seonghwa left?”

Yeosang sighs. “He’s been thinking of quitting for weeks now, so I had enough time to look for a new bassist. It’s not that big of a deal anyway.”

And this is exactly why you should never get dicked down by your bandmate several times in a month, you think to yourself. Seonghwa and Yeosang thought they were slick, but everyone figured they were more than friends. Needless to say, it was only a matter of time until the strain of their relationship wreaked havoc within the band.

“So,” you say as you two walk to the makeshift studio in the basement, “Is the new guy good? What’s his name?”

The change of topic makes Yeosang relax visibly. There’s a sheepish smile on his face and he replies, “You’ll see.”

You arch a brow. For some reason, that doesn’t settle comfortably in your gut. Then there’s the fact that Yeosang is slightly skipping, and that makes you more concerned than relieved. Because Yeosang barely skips, only when he’s being petty and is planning on pranking somebody. (Most of the time, it’s San.)

The faint vibrations of drums and guitars ring in your ears before you step a foot into the basement. Mingi is the first to acknowledge your presence, immediately dampening the cymbals before waving at you. That causes the other two guys to stop playing their instruments and turn their heads around. You greet San like you normally do, and when your eyes flit to the new addition, all brightness drops from your face.

“What. The. Fuck.”

Yunho cocks his head to the side almost tauntingly, eyes challenging. The corners of his mouth quirk upwards, though more with the intention of saying hah you thought you’d never see me again. “Hello to you too, honey. Looks like fate brought us together once more, eh?”

You blink multiple times to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. To your dismay, they sure aren’t. It really is Yunho standing right next to an utterly confused San, and the bass in his hands just confirms it furthermore.

“Since when do you play an instrument?” you gawk. There’s no fucking way he could’ve had time to pick up music, not when his schedule was already jammed with basketball training and student council activities. Then again, that was his schedule in middle school.

“Since I was fifteen,” he drawls, unaffected by your outburst. “Any other questions, honey? Preferably something along the lines of how have you been? I expected a warmer welcome from you, not gonna lie.”

“What does Yeosang even see in you?” you splutter instead, disgust prevalent in your voice.

“Talent. Believe it or not.”

“Guys, no fighting,” Yeosang warns, but you’re too busy sending Yunho daggers and every pg rated curse under the sun your brain can wrack up.

Meanwhile, San shifts his weight on one leg awkwardly and asks in the background as your verbal dispute continues, “Are they exes or something?”

“Nah, just childhood enemies,” Mingi mumbles, clearly used to your interactions to the point where he’s becoming bored of it. He’s heard all the profanities too many times coming out from the same mouth, hence why he isn’t as disturbed as San is.

“Listen up, you piec—“

“(y/n), the camera. Help your older brother out, will ya?” Yeosang cuts you off urgently, the warning tone in his words hard to miss.

“Yeah, help your brother out, shorty,” Yunho snickers. Appalled by his blatant shamelessness, you scowl.

“I’m not that short—!”

“Still shorter than I am, shorty. Or do you prefer honey?”

World War III would’ve broken out right then and there if it weren’t for Yeosang’s death glare — you know, the look he has etched on his face whenever he means business and is willing to go so far and expose all of the nasty mishaps you’ve done in middle school, which is definitely something that should never see the light of day.

“I prefer neither,” you mutter after weighing the gravity of Yeosang’s wrath, avoiding any eyes before you set up the camera. Luckily, nobody further comments on that and eventually, everybody resumes practicing their parts of the songs.

Just in time as Mingi takes another short break to chug his water down, you stumble across a problem. “Uh, Yeosang? You should buy a new camera. This is still usable, but you might have to reset every ten minutes or so.”

A groan leaves him, followed by a shrill guitar riff, and you can see that he’d prefer death over spending money for a new one. “Can’t you just stay here during practice and reset it? You also get to hear some new tracks of the upcoming EP!” That fucker, he’s just too lazy to run forward and press a button every few minutes.

“I have to be on standby for the Block B ticket sale,” you lie. Technically, it’s not really a lie because you do plan on going to the Block B concert with Wooyoung, but 1) the ticket sale isn’t even today and 2) it’s always Wooyoung who buys the tickets. Yeosang doesn’t need to know that though. Any excuse is better than having to sit through practice and see if Yunho is as good as he claims.

Seems like Yeosang desperately doesn’t want to keep running back and forth to reset the camera as he suddenly says, “You can do it here too.” You would argue that the garage has its separate WiFi and only the band members have access to it, but then: “You can use my laptop instead.”

And letting you use his laptop is something he never does. You failed to submit an assignment in time because your own laptop broke down and he didn’t let you borrow his computer for even that.

“Fine,” you sigh in defeat. Yeosang thanks you with a smile so obnoxiously sweet it makes you gag. When all he gets in return from you is the middle finger, his demeanor drops and he mutters something inaudible under his breath, pointing to the small table at the side where all their phones and laptops are lying before he goes back to the others.

Once all four of them are in position and ready to play, you press the record button before flipping yourself onto the old patchwork couch Yeosang bought at a garage sale for only thirty quid a few years back. To your surprise, Yeosang’s MacBook is already unlocked, the default wallpaper of mountains and northern lights quite jarring to your eyes.

When given the rare chance to have unlimited access to your sibling’s devices, it’s self-explanatory what to do. You either a) go through all of their accounts and find as much dirt as possible about them that serves as good material for future blackmail purposes or b) sign them up to as many online subscriptions as possible that will make them go crazy. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work on Yeosang because 1) he doesn’t mind online subscriptions, and 2) he never checks his email account, hence why his inbox is filled with over 2000 mails, a third of them most likely unopened. On top of that, his MacBook is strictly meant for work, so if you really wanted to find out his most embarrassing secrets, your only shot is his phone.

That being said, you’re left with option c) which is checking out Block B’s concert merch since that’s the only sensible thing you can do right now. Forget productivity; that isn’t doable when Yeosang’s deep timbre is blaring in your ears along with the instruments. To be honest, you really enjoy Stereowave’s music and that’s on their music, not because your brother is the lead singer. You’ve enjoyed each of their performances and perhaps you’ve been indulging in the privilege of hearing their new songs first.

But now that Yunho’s involved, suddenly the prospect of having a new favorite band sounds tempting. What was Yuqi’s favorite band again? Day6? You should take a closer look at their discography.

As much as you want to mute the sound, from San’s riffs to Mingi’s drum solo, you fail to do so. One moment you’re opening the search browser, and in the next, your eyes are set on the group. They’re practicing like they usually do; fun etched on their faces as they lose themselves in the music. Yeosang is singing as if he was performing in front of a million viewers while San improvises a solo on a whim. Mingi messes up the beat for a split second after failing to catch his stick and somehow, your eyes have zoomed in on Yunho. It doesn’t take you five seconds to realize:

Yunho is good.

While he might not seem as fired up as the other three, he’s visibly relaxed. Just like Seonghwa, he plays smoothly and isn’t overpowered by the others, but he seems to have an easier time gliding his fingers across the fingerboard. The bassline is easy to filter out, not the generic pattern you can find in every second pop song, yet still compliments the other instruments.

He can play, fair game. However, that’s the least of your worries. You’re more attentive to the ratio of his hands to the bass. His hands are larger than Seonghwa’s by far, no doubt. That makes sense given his height, maybe an inch taller than Mingi. But Mingi doesn’t have that big hands. Doesn’t that mean that Yunho’s body is disproportional?

Before you know it, you drag your gaze from his shoes up to his legs and stop at his hands briefly, only to proceed upwards until you see the cocky smirk and amused eyes directed at you. All clogs in your brain come to a stillstand and despite that, that’s when you realize you’ve been 1) enjoying his music, 2) checking him out, and 3) checking him out and caught red-handed.

It feels as if you were living on the sun instead of on Earth as you burn up in embarrassment. Knowing there’s no way you can deflect what you just did, you quickly turn back to the laptop, the Google search bar staring back at you.

You’re about to type in something when the search history pops up, catching your eyes. A gasp leaves you but it goes under the music, everyone too immersed in their own thing to notice the prevalent horror settling on your face.

exhibitionism

getting off in public

best crowded places to have sex and get away with it

You blink, thinking that your sleep deprivation got the worst out of you and that you’ve finally reached the stage where you start hallucinating. Except, you know you’re not hallucinating. After going through the words again and again, you know that you’re really not fucking hallucinating and that your nonexistent sleep cycle isn’t as bad as Yuqi makes it out to be.

When you said you wanted to dig up dirt on your brother, you didn’t mean it in the form of his kinks. Money can’t buy everything, but how you wish it could so you could unsee that shocking discovery.

Since this is Yeosang’s work computer and he’s signed into his Google account, he must make use of the drive to save a copy of his ideas. It probably won’t amount to anything since he’s the walking embodiment of staying unbothered, but writing him a note on his docs about how he’s made your life worse by not clearing his search history is better than staying silent.

You click on the little icon on the top right corner, expecting to see Yeosang’s name right above the email address. But then you see Yunho’s name instead, and suddenly everything makes much more sense.

This was never Yeosang’s laptop to begin with.

To say you’re at a loss of words is an understatement. There’s no way someone could have as little self-awareness and leave their laptop unlocked, let alone Yunho out of all people. Then again, the last thing you expected from him was to play the bass and blend well with the rest of the band as if he’s always been the bassist of Stereowave and not the newly found replacement.

This is absolutely bonkers. But:

You could have fun with it. Maybe it’s for the better that money can’t buy everything.

Besides dozens of articles about semi-public sex and even a blogpost titled Shagging in Broad Daylight for Dummies, his search history of the last 24 hours consists of many forum links discussing the morality of exhibitionism, conspiracy theories, and hand care guides. You wheeze when you see the private playlist he saved on his YouTube account; a collection of videos about filing your nails properly and the best hand cream brands for dry skin.

Yeosang calls in for a break, and everyone’s grateful for it. San lets out a relieved noise as he places his guitar on the stand before catching the water bottle Mingi chucks at him.

“My arms are beat,” Mingi complains.

San sends him an incredulous look and snorts, “All you do is bang! crash! ppang! while my throat is fucked! And so are my legs!”

“Not my fault if you keep doing your high pitched oows! while jumping around like a— like a cricket!”

“A cricket? Are you serious?”

“I’m tired, okay!”

“Then that means we should call it a day and go home and rest, right?”

“Choi San, I think you’re onto something.”

“Absolutely not,” Yeosang deadpans, causing the bickering duo to pout in sync. “We have lots to do especially since Yunho’s now part of the band.” When all he’s met with is an attempt of cute puppy eyes that rather looks like a bad rendition of any horror movie featuring creepy dolls, Yeosang sighs, “I ordered chicken for dinner and yes, it’s on me.”

In an instant, Mingi and San’s faces brighten up and they’re celebrating as if they won a free cruise to the Bahamas. They don’t hesitate to envelop Yeosang in a bear hug, crushing the life out of him. A chuckle escapes you at the sight of your brother wringing for his sanity. Sometimes you wonder how on Earth those three guys are the same three guys who perform in abandoned warehouses, jamming out their punk rock songs while looking all edgy (in a cool way that has at least half of their fans thirsting after them).

Meanwhile, Yunho drops himself on the other end of the couch. Propping his right leg on the coffee table in front, he digs around in his pockets before pulling something out.

“Since when do you file your nails?” You pointedly raise a brow at him. Although your extensive research on his browser history already answered that question, you ask him just for the sake of it.

“Hand care is important, shorty,” Yunho replies, keeping his eyes trained on his fingers as he works the file around a nail. “If Kageyama Tobio files his nails, I can too. But enough with the small talk, what do you want?”

“I didn’t peg you as an exhibitionist.”

His hand stops moving. Yunho looks up at you, irritation written all over his features. “Because I file my nails...? A bold assumption, honey.”

There’s a reason why Yunho has always gotten away with pretty much everything. He’s a good actor who’s able to feign innocence at any time. His posture is relaxed, voice genuinely sounding flabbergasted that not even your shit-eating grin can throw him off guard.

You can’t, but your proof will do the job.

“I never said it’s because of your hand fixation.” You turn the laptop screen his way and once his eyes flicker on it and decipher the words, his face falls. Gone is the faux-confusion; as all color drains from him, his eyes look like they’re about to fall out of their sockets. “Is it really a bold assumption now, honey?”

Yunho inhales sharply when you scoot closer to him and put a firm hand on his left leg, his laptop now closed and long forgotten. Your fingers are placed too high for it to be friendly, skimming lightly on the inside of his thigh. Yeosang and the others are busy minding their own business but the chance of getting caught in the act is still there. The simple realization has adrenaline running a hundred miles an hour in your veins, and with the way Yunho clenches his jaw — a desperate attempt to fight the groan that’s threatening in the back of his throat — you’re not the only one who’s aroused by the setup.

Slowly, your hand inches closer to his growing bulge. Before you can dare yet another experimental squeeze, Yunho’s hand surges forward and holds your wrist in a vice grip.

“Don’t,” he snarls through gritted teeth, but it sounds sadder than it is intimidating when he’s sporting a boner right in front of your eyes.

You cock your head to the side, almost in a mocking demeanor. “You sure? Think about it, it’s a win-win situation. You get to live out your exhibitionist right here in front of your new bandmates, and I get the confirmation that you’re into it. But if you really don’t want to…” you try to retreat your hand but Yunho doesn’t let you budge, hand still enclosed around yours. That won’t do as an answer.

“Which one is it? Say it, Yunho,” you assert, narrowing your eyes. Yunho looks distraught, feverishly biting his lip while he’s internally fighting with himself, but he eventually chokes out a response.

“As long as nobody notices—”

“You either say you want me to touch you or not. I don’t want any roundabout stories.”

“Touch me,” he whispers defeatedly and the grip on your hand disappears completely. “But I swear to God if anyone realizes what you’re doing— hhnh—!” he cuts himself off with a low moan when you cup him over the material of his jeans.

“Yes yes, I get it. I don’t need Yeosang to know about this,” you dismiss. “And oh wow, you’re getting hard fast when I’m just touching you over your pants.”

“Just get to it.”

The snappish attitude causes you to stop dead in your tracks. “You think you’re in the position to tell me what to do? I can be mean too, y’know,” you start nonchalantly, a stark contrast to the way your heart is shaking in your ribcage. The power you suddenly hold is exhilarating. “I could just leave you like this, and then you’d have to try to cover your situation down there while practice goes on. How would the others react if they only knew your dick is hard? Probably won’t take them too long to find out since standing for a long time can be tiring, hm?”

Yunho’s head lolls back in response as he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. His breathing is uneven and the resulting moan that follows suit makes you smirk. You lightly smack the inside of his thigh, causing another wave of arousal to rupture in him. He chokes out a hushed ‘f-fuck’ and at this point, the constriction around his cock must be bordering painful.

“Who would’ve thought that the big bad Jeong Yunho is actually a submissive bitch who’s hungry for attention?” you ask gleefully, delivering another slap before stroking the area. “Who would’ve fucking thought you were a sub?”

“I-I’m not— shit, s-stop that, hngh— a fucking sub.”

“Yeah yeah, say that to yourself.” You rip your gaze away from Yunho’s flushed face to check if the coast is clear before targeting his fisted hands. He stiffens when you pry his hand open and bring three digits to your lips, sticking your tongue out to give kitten licks to his fingertips before pushing them into your mouth. You hum, suck, swirl your tongue around his fingers, giggling when all he does is stare at you wordlessly, unable to form any coherent thoughts. “See? Not even once have you put up a fight.”

That seems to snap him out of his daze. In an instant, his eyes darken and his jaw clenches.

“Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn’t tease me.”

You snicker, seeing through his bluff. “Wow, I’m so scared. What do you wanna do? Leave practice right now? Drag me to my room and pound me into the mattress?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“You could never, sub.”

Whatever strands of self-control were still residing in Yunho have turned to dust by now. One moment he’s towering over you in full height, looking down on your sitting form in bitter distaste, and in the next, he’s dragging you out of the basement, unaffected by the sudden silence and Yeosang, Mingi and San’s confused expressions.

Once you’re in the living room, Yunho wastes no time crowding you against the wall and crashing his lips against yours. The kiss is a messy clash of teeth and tongues, but it leaves you hot and lightheaded and aching for more. Yunho knows no limits and snakes one arm around your waist to pull you closer to him, the other hand fisting your hair. He tugs harshly and the sharp sting sends all your nerves into a frenzy.

“Bedroom. Now.” The sudden huskiness in his tone catches you off guard and you wonder when his voice has ever sounded so rough. You moan into the kiss, fisting his shirt as you stumble your way to your bedroom.

Yunho pins you against the door once you’re in your bedroom. His lips are addictive, just like the groans he slips in kisses and his hands roaming your body. He gets rid of your clothes until you’re left in your underwear, then forces a knee between your legs to keep them from closing. Your eyes roll back at the friction, growing needier and hotter when he presses his thigh against you harder.

When you finally pull away, his eyes are hooded and his lips are red and swollen. There’s no trace of inhibitions left in him as he watches you like a predator. With horror, you realize that the tables have turned, and when he easily locks both of your wrists above your head with one hand only, that’s when you know you’re undisputedly powerless against him.

“Who’s the sub now?” he pants, eyes sparkling with glee.

“Still y-you.” The response sounds pathetic to your own ears, but you have too big of an ego to admit it out loud. Yunho doesn’t buy it either if his quirked brow wasn’t telling enough.

“Still in denial, honey? I see. Guess I’ll have to do more then.” His free hand reaches down to tug on the waistband of your underwear, only to let it snap against your skin. The slight sting is enough to render your knees into mush and set fog into your vision. He does it again, and then he actually tugs the fabric down and you finally grab his motives.

“You’re bluffing— y-you wouldn’t put y-your fingers,” you ramble, hyperaware about how dangerously close his fingers are. Just when you think he’s about to shove a digit in, he pulls away completely.

“You know, you keep talking about my hands. It’s always my hands this, my hands that,” Yunho says casually, giving his nails a quick glance before meeting your eyes. “Rather than me having a hand fixation, it’s you who has a thing for hands. My hands specifically.”

You don’t like how every word is true. You don’t want to acknowledge that he’s correct. Verbally, because your body is moving on its own and has betrayed you long ago.

Yunho taps on your bottom lip and you comply reluctantly, letting him shove the same three fingers you sucked before. Mumbling unintelligible words under his breath, he watches intently as you hum around him, eyes fluttering shut when he slowly moves them in and out of your mouth. A whine escapes you when he pulls them out for good, soaked wet with your spit.

“Tell me.” Yunho grins, “Tell me what you like about them. Or else I’ll leave you hanging.” He’s not lying and you know it. The look he sends you is enough proof that he wouldn’t hesitate to leave you high and dry.

You don’t like how he’s stringing you on like a rag doll. You don’t like how he’s stripping you off your dignity step by step. Strangely enough, you feel yourself leaking and wanting nothing but his pretty long fingers inside of you.

“I like how they, agh I— I l-like how—” you stutter, losing all levels of rationality when he suddenly circles around your entrance. Yunho urges you to continue and it takes up all of your brainpower to pick up where you left off, “—they’re so long and big and pretty—”

“So you have a size kink.”

You stare at him in disbelief. Now that, that’s something he shouldn’t have deduced. “W-wha— I don’t!”

“Seems to me that you have one though. You kept stressing how big and bad and tall I was after all.” You stiffen. Did you? Did you really? You don’t recall saying it that many times but it's hard to think straight when Yunho still has your wrists above your head and is looking down at you in a downright patronizing way. It leaves you trembling pitifully, feeling called out and feeling so, so small.

He really wants you to hit your lowest peak because he doesn’t stop there. “Who’s the real sub here? Is it really me? Or is it you who likes feeling so short, small, tiny.” His smirk widens when your breath hitches ever so slightly. “I fucking knew it.”

“You don’t know shit,” you bark back, but to no avail. Your credibility has diminished the moment he caught up to your kinks.

“Say whatever you want but that won’t change the fact that you’re tiny baby,” he pauses, takes his bottom lip between his teeth as he’s giving you a thorough once-over and then enunciates the next syllables with such clarity that forces time to stop, “My tiny, helpless baby.”

The pet name breaks you. It’s the final trigger that takes all your inhibitions away and the pathetic size of an ego that was left in your stubborn head.

“Please,” your voice cracks but that’s the least of your worries. You can’t move, can’t talk back, and won’t get anything in return. Yunho is right in front of you, finding satisfaction in your internal destruction and yet, after all of the things he’s slaughtered you to, he won’t give you anything in return.

“Just a little bit more, baby. I’ll give you what you want if you repeat after me; I’m your—”

“I’m your tiny, helpless baby who desperately wants you to fuck me.” Yunho is mildly taken aback that you were still able to think and get it right before he even finished his sentence. “Now get on to it, Yunho. Please.”

You’re sniffling at this point, begging for any kind of stimulation that shoots you to the stars. You’re fucking sniffling, and that’s all it takes for Yunho to manhandle you on the bed. A gasp escapes you, not expecting this turn of events at all. It all happens in a flash and the next thing you know, you’re on all fours, face buried in the pillow.

“Yunho, I t-thought y-you’d fuck me,” you complain, glancing behind to see what’s taking him so long. Your mouth waters at the sight.

“Patience, baby,” he says as he’s unbuckling his belt, taking his sweet time. You rub your legs together to ease the tension, but you can’t really say you’re not enjoying the show. Yunho’s lean, slightly defined, and once he’s only left in his underwear, you swallow heavily. There’s a large, dark patch on the fabric and the bulge seems more prominent than before.

If your mouth was only watering, you’re drooling by now. Yunho takes off his boxers, revealing his painfully hard cock, tip red and oozing precum. Just like the rest of him, he’s abnormally huge.

You have two thoughts. One: Fuck, you want him. Now. Two:

“That’s never going to fit inside of me.”

“Oh it will,” he says with such confidence it gives you shivers. “I’ll pound you into the mattress and you’ll take it all.”

He grabs you by your thighs to pull you closer to him before positioning himself right behind you. “W-wait!” you cry, heart suddenly feeling heavy in your chest, “D-don’t just put it in without prep— o-oh, hnngh—” your body feels like jelly when Yunho presses two spit-coated fingers past your entrance, stretching you out with finesse.

“I’m not that heartless,” he chuckles amusedly, right at the same time he curls his digits right against your sweet spot, sending you headfirst into bliss. “You’re so small you wouldn’t be able to take an inch without prep.”

You only whine into the pillow, arching your back as he continues his ministrations. Once Yunho deems you stretched out enough, he retreats his fingers and replaces them immediately with his cock.

The difference is like night and day. It’s like his fingers didn’t amount to anything compared to this. The high-pitched cry that escapes you is loud as you grasp onto the pillow for dear life.

“How can you be so big?” you pant. There’s no way he’s past four inches deep inside of you. You’re far from being filled, but your walls are already clenching hard around him.

“Bassists do it deeper for a reason.” The innuendo is tacky but in your current headspace, it sounds like the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. Yunho stills his hips, letting you get used to him. “How are you feeling?”

“Guh—” he chuckles at your inability to form coherent words, let alone thoughts. “So big.”

“You’ll get used to it, honey.” He leans forward to pet your hair. “Tell me when I can move,” he adds gently, and you swear you could melt right then.

It takes you a moment to get your breathing steady, and then he pushes more of his length inside. Whimpering, you writhe beneath him, feeling as if you’re being torn apart. Meanwhile, he’s breathing hard through his nose, trying his damn hardest to go as slow as possible. At a certain point, Yunho stops pressing for more and pulls out ever so slightly before rocking his hips back forward. It starts out slowly, but he gradually picks up the pace and you lose yourself into him.

“Faster,” you moan, bending your back for an even deeper angle. “Hnngh, so full. Want m-more.”

“You were right, you can’t take me to the hilt.” Yunho readjusts his grip on his hips and you know that bruises are going to last until the end of the week. “God, you’re so fucking small that you can’t take me to the fucking hilt.”

Your vision turns foggy once the meaning gets through you. Now that he’s saying it, how much of his cock is inside of you? Half of it? A third? He’s stretching you out so well, filling you up so impossibly deep and that wasn’t even his everything?

“That’s not— want more of you, all of you,” you stammer, not realizing what you’re even saying. “Baby wants all of you.” God, you’re so drunk and desperate for his cock that you can’t refer yourself in the first person anymore.

Yunho reacts just as perplexed, eyes widening. His hips still once more, and though you’d want to shout at him to keep on moving, you don’t find the energy to move your head, or even lift a finger.

“So fucking greedy,” he growls, pulling out of you completely. Not even a second later, he flips you around on your back so that you’re facing him dead in the eye, and then he pushes back in. The new position has you gurgling on broken words as your arms flail around for dear life.

Yunho throws a leg over his shoulder, creating a deeper angle. You don’t know if he’s actually giving you more if he’s managed to force more of him into you. All you register is the messy squelch of liquids and your moans bouncing off the walls. You can’t even see properly, everything a blur and a mix of different colors.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper, sensing your demise nearing closer and closer.

“Then cum,” Yunho orders in between groans, then adds in a louder voice, “You hear that baby? Cum and make a mess out of yourself.”

Your orgasm crashes onto you in a big singular wave as you tremble under his frame, walls clenching around him tightly. His name leaves your mouth like a mantra as you continue to convulse. Yunho pulls out moments later, just to spurt white on your abdomen. His face is flushed and beads of sweat are forming on his forehead while he jerks himself dry.

It’s a miracle that Yunho hasn’t toppled on you once he slowly comes down from his high. The fog in your vision clears up gradually, but your limbs are as good as worthless. You won’t be able to move freely for a good day or two.

As you continue to blink at the ceiling, only finding the energy to breathe, Yunho grabs the box of tissues from your nightstand and wipes himself off before doing the same to you. His touch is gentle unlike before, and you’d thank him if your vocal cords were still functioning.

You’re about to drift to sleep until he suddenly leans down and pecks your lips. In an instant, you narrow your eyes at him and ask, “What was that for?”

“You had some cum on your lip. I wanted to taste too.” Yunho smiles cheekily and runs his tongue against his bottom lip, then grimaces. “It tastes... yikes.”

He cleans you up in silence before plopping onto the bed right next to you. No words are exchanged up until you say, “Yeosang is going to kill you.”

“He can’t afford to kill me. He needs me for the band,” he muses.

“He’ll still kill you.”

“I appreciate the concern, honey.”

“Just scram back to practice.”

“Don’t you want to go to the bathroom first?”

“I can do it myself.”

“Oh really?”

“... Yunho, help me on my legs and then scram back to practice.”

Meanwhile, back in the basement, the guys are waiting for their bandmate to come back so they can finally finish practice and then eat chicken.

“You sure (y/n) and Yunho are only childhood enemies? They’ve been going at it like rabbits if he isn’t back here yet!” San exclaims, throwing his arms up for dramatic effect.

Mingi can’t counter that because San has a point, so he whips his head to Yeosang. “Dude, you sure they’re not in a relationship? They have to be at least fuckbuddies! Or fuckrivals? Fuckenemies? Or…”

“I do not know and I do not care,” Yeosang says blankly, looking like he’s about to bang his head against the wall because he sure won’t walk into your room and curse his eyes for the rest of his life. Damnit, all he wants is to practice and get the band together; their next gig is only a few weeks away. “In fact, I want to unsee what I just saw and unhear what you just said.”

#blame 5*os for the creation of the band au idea #ateez smut #yunho smut #jeong yunho smut #ateez hard hours #atz smut #luvsmut #the ending is rushed oopsie but i never know how to end smut scenes ahahaha

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sarasa-cat · 3 years

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Nano Shenanigans - Nov 11th

STILL SLOGGING SLOWLY on the plot, subplot and character worksheets for the Orig Fic Novel.

Realizing the following;

1. I’m doing okay with Karen Wiesner’s worksheets because she (her method) is totally open to me substituting the word “THEME” for “plot.” Honestly, I think only one “subplot” my wip is actually A PLOT with a plot-like structure. Perhaps the main “plot” might shape itself into something a bit more plot-like but, theme? Oh yes, the rest of my subplots are more themes that play out in various ways.

2. I have AMPLE ideas via these worksheets for a novel. I still need to copy some hand written notes from ... idk ... maybe summer of 2020? Gotta find them. Also need to move some more ideas from Scrivener into Obsidian for this planning phase. But the ideas at a basic level feels AMPLE. More than ample. Potentially a little too much.

3. OH SHIT. I have so much actual hard research that I need to do to write this. *facepalm*. Like, it’s okay. This is a novel I want to read. But, the research is like, idk, a lot. It is research that interests me. But it is a tiny bit nervous-making.

4. About that research... Really torn between how much I need to get “right” versus where I can hum a few bars and let people with hard core expertise fill in the blanks. I mean... ugh.. how to explain the mess I am getting myself in. I am very practiced at academic research and academic writing. So, this is kind of like academic research coupled with fiction writing. I don’t have to be any better (with the facts) than I would in an aca paper and aca papers are always full of holes -- so many holes. Regarding this wip, my job is to tell a COMPELLING STORY with COMPELLING CHARACTERS while also giving the reader cool things (facts, knitted together) to chew on. And that is DOABLE but, still, some of the research is daunting.

5. Really seeing the benefit in just creating a treatment for the novel -- nothing more than a chapter by chapter roadmap PLUS a bunch of character worksheets and plot(or theme) overview sheets AND (the big and) a giant list of reading and research that I need to omnomnom. The truth is: this fucker is gonna take a lot of work to write. if I have a treatment, that gives me a plan I can follow and it helps limit the research to what is needed rather than swoooooshing down the rabbit hole for way too long.

6. This fucker of a wip is gonna take a long time to write.

7. My current goal (very similar to my original goal on Nov 1) is to finish 70-80% this treatment by the Nov 30. And then push it a little more in Dec. And then PUT THAT THING IN A QUIET PLACE ON MY CLOUD DRIVE AND LET IT REST FOR A MONTH OR TWO. During that time I can start some of the reading and research but mostly I will work on other projects. I can tell already this wip needs to bake for a while. Also, it is too all consuming and I want to work on other things too.

#NanoShenanigans

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rigelmejo · 3 years

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Re-reading hanshe with less word lookup is going well. I'm in section 10 already. I mean that's a long way to go with 209 sections. But if I'm doing 5 a day like rn that's 40 days to read instead of months like before, so with for increased reading speed. If I get up to 10 chapters a day that's 20 days to finish reading this fic which is under a month. Anyway we'll see.

Mostly I'm curious if when I hit 1/3 in, which is where I've read to before, if extensive reading no longer becomes possible because I don't have enough already-studied words for those parts afterward.

It’s interesting rereading because I can also start to tell which words/hanzi throw me off the most. There’s a number of new words I guess/remember quite easily, due to hanzi I remember easily. There’s also a number of 4-hanzi phrases I figure out easily because their hanzi are familiar and similar phrases I’ve already learned. however, STILL the words for suspicious, doubt, hesitate ALL trip me up! If I want to read fast I just guess which one the word means based on context! The hanzi for those 3 words just looks TOO similar to me especially with meanings that to me are also quite similar (if you doubt something you may be suspicious, if you doubt something or are suspicious you may hesitate, so the words are quite similar in meaning in my head).

怀疑 Huáiyí - doubt, suspect, be skeptical

犹豫 yóuyù - to hesitate

犹疑 yóuyí - to hesitate

(you will notice the bottom word uses a hanzi from hesitate, then a second hanzi from doubt, and it makes me confused as all hell as a result whenever I see any of these 3 words because I see hanzi from another similar word and then get lost about which means which).

Anyway, the hanzi I confuse for other hanzi/being part of other words, seem to be the ‘already learned’ words I am clicking the most. Because I’ve seen the word or hanzi many times but STILL the sound has not stuck in my mind so yet again I’m looking up the pronunciation. Like 绸缎 chouduan (silk) and chan (getting tangled/wrapped/involved with with someone/thing) 缠. I see the silk side radical and the enclosure on both (though the enclosures are different), and because they look pretty similar EVERY time I see chou as in silk I want to read it as ‘chan’. About 80% of the time I see that word I have to re-check the pronunciation. Reading extensively is actually helping slightly, in that I think my brain is making more of an effort to remember the pronunciation since I’m trying to be less likely to look something up again so its just got less chances to retain the info. This is the first time in like 6+ months of encountering the word chouduan that the pronunciation is FINALLY sticking in my brain.

Words that have familiar hanzi are much less of a struggle, even when new, and I wonder if my comprehension really is close to 98%? I didn’t measure this fic hanshe, just some novels I had (zhenhun was 95%, dmbj 1 and saye were 98%). But I can tell that if I don’t care about sound, I’m not running into many ‘incomprehensible in context’ words at all, and usually a word or less per paragraph that I full on can’t pronounce or make a good guess for a pronunciation I remember (and those words aren’t necessarily the new ones - so fucking often that word is just youyi huaiyi or youyu ToT lol). My point is... my ability to read aloud has improved, I can actually read quite a bit more hanzi aloud on sight than several months ago. I am practicing reading aloud a little since I have terrible ‘read aloud flow’ right now lol.

Also? Realizing if I read aloud I am almost guaranteed to say every 了 as de by instinct first. I bet thats 1 part that pleco app always reads 的 as di, so I overcorrected in my head with ‘it actually sounds like de in many situations BE aware’ and then now when I see le I just automatically switch into ‘overcorrect di mode’ lol. Another part is I think it might reflect my speaking comfort level a little. Le is not terribly difficult to use for beginner appropriate conversation tasks (like saying “i went to the store” etc) but in conversations idk why I rarely use it or rarely make a mental note when i do use it, so like when I type i am well aware its something i write without then realize i skipped and put back in. So its interesting to me when reading and inner-vocalizing or speaking aloud, my brain is actually still doing the same thing as my writing pattern - skipping the word then only adding it back in if i realize i skipped it.

---

Hanshe getting easier over time also speaks to the difficulty of priest novels like? While i love them and will trudge through? The language in hanshe used to be peak too much for me it would take me 1.5 to 2 hours to finish a chapter. And priest wasn't even doable. Then eventually I could read tianyake in 1-2 hour chapters then eventually in 20-30 min. Eventually I could read hanshe again in 10-20 minute chapters. But like - however difficult hanshe is, priests writing is harder to read. Priest just has more unknown words per page for me.

I am wondering when priest’s writing will go from doable to a bit easier than just doable, the way hanshe did. Probably a long way off (and I’m aiming for zhenhun and modu, I suspect sha po lang and can ci pin will take much longer as they’re genres I don’t read).

On the topic of genres: I may read tangstory’s 2 novels that are sequels - one historical court, one republican era. Those are two genres I don’t read, but I do watch shows in those genres so learning some of the genre words would fall in line with things I would LIKE to eventually read. Tangstory’s stories are on the shorter side (much shorter than hanshe or zhenhun dang) and show as like 35 sections in my reader app (compared to 209 ToT). They have lovely english translations if I do need clarification or just want to read them later, and again those genres are ones I should get more familiar with.

Other options for reading for more genres: Qi Ye for more historical/court vibe language, and Tian Ya Ke when I’m ready again for its wuxia language - but both of these require me braving a full priest story which. I don’t want to start anything right now that will take more than 2 months to read. Upside is these both have nice translations to refer to, downside is I need to be able to read priest easier to tackle them. And if I’m reading priest easier I may go right for Zhenhun (both because its a goal novel of mine to read and because I know a lot more supernatural/modern words).

For detective novels, I’d like to branch out into maybe SCI Mystery (seems closer to my reading level except for the detective terms which I should learn), Ding Mo novels (like the one Love me if You Dare is based on) since Ding Mo has been recced to me and the reading level isn’t too high, PoYun (but the reading level IS around MoDu and I can TELL - but I think it opens with more vocabulary I should learn and am unfamiliar with as far as detective stories/police/action and weaponry words).

I want to branch into something easier as a first sci fi novel, but I can’t think of any I want to read except C语言修仙 and 残次品. On a guess, I’d say the first novel is probably easier if ONLY because its 2 print books instead of 4 ToT. Also Can Ci Pin has gratuitous variety of names and I think as a cultivator novel maybe Cyuyanxiuxian will have more of a modern-like one country setting with less new terms to learn (versus Can Ci Pin with new planets, names, spaceships and tech, mech suits, mutant and disease terminology, govt terms, etc).

#september #september progress #if u read the rant notes like this and u are not me then congrats ur ability to sift through a mess is <3 #these are mostly notes on the learning process #in case one day into japanese i wonder how reading skills progress #i'll be encouraged knowing this is how the process went before in another language #or if i hit another plateau in chinese. these kinds of posts help me figure out #what worked last time or what weak spots i neglected that i could work on still

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howtosingit · 4 years

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2020 Fanfic Retrospective

I was tagged by the truly wonderful @firefighterstrand @reyesstrand and @officerrxyes 💙💙💙

How many stories did you complete?

48 😳

What is your total word count for the year?

152,364 ⁉️⁉️⁉️

What fandoms did you write in this year?

911: Lone Star - I’m a monogamous shipper and in a committed relationship with Tarlos 😅

Did you write more, less, or roughly around what you expected you would?

So much more! Before this year, I had only written 3 other fics for 2 different fandoms. I never, NEVER expected to write so many fics for one pairing in such a short amount of time.

What’s your own favorite story of the year?

It really changes depending on what mood I’m in, but I think Come Back, I Need You to Hold Me always sits pretty close to the top. Also, I gotta give love to the Lifeguard AU. And also It’s A Million Things About You because when I dream of being in love, that’s what I see.

I know I was only supposed to pick one, but my fics are my children and I love them all.

Did you take any writing risks this year?

I started my first multi-chapter, which I am still working on. Before I published chapter one, I had NEVER shared something that wasn’t completely written. I am a major procrastinator, and unless I feel like people are really counting on me to update, I lose the motivation to do so. So, that’s been scary and risky and challenging, but I love what I’ve written so far, and I love the ideas that are coming in later chapters.

Do you have any fanfiction goals for 2021?

Finish the multi-chapter, definitely. Write 7 fics for Carlos Reyes Week because he is my boy and I love him and I want to give him all of the attention that he deserves. Write 7 fics for Tarlos Week, if there is another one this year. Also, would love to write 250K+ words this year; I think it’s doable, since I really only wrote for about 7 months of 2020.

What is your most under-appreciated story?

I honestly don’t even know. Just by AO3 numbers, i’ll be there for you, ‘cause you’re there for me too has the least amount of hits and kudos (by a wide margin, too), but it’s also a fairly recent fic so I don’t know how telling that is. I love all of my stories, so I want them all to be equally loved.

Now, I will say the one fic that I do not appreciate enough is I’ll Build My Life Around You - I struggled so much with writing it and I posted it before I actually liked it. It’s the only fic that I’ve posted where I was like “I really don’t like this, but I want to post something for Day 3 of Tarlos Week and this is all I have.” I’ve made my peace with it now, but I should give that fic a little more love, I think.

Biggest fanfiction related disappointment of 2020?

I mean, I still haven’t been able to establish a schedule for writing and posting the multi-chapter, and I’m way behind where I wanted to be on it; but I’m still getting a chapter out every 2-3 weeks, so I don’t feel too guilty. I was also pretty sad that I didn’t do all of Tarlos Week. That’s partly why I’m so determined to do all of Carlos Reyes Week, even if it kills me (also, see above to know more about my love for my boy).

And just as a final, recent thing: I didn’t get to write a fluffy holiday fic for the boys, and I love Christmastime fluff, so that breaks my heart a bit. I am determined to deliver next Christmas, though!

Biggest fanfiction related surprise of 2020?

Honestly? Just that people have read and enjoyed my work. I never in a million years thought I would become a regular fanfic writer, but so many people have shared kudos, comments, asks, and messages telling me how much they love to read what I write, and that kind of positive affirmation is truly the best motivator in the world. I wrote one Tarlos fic in February, read a ton in April, got so inspired that I wrote a second one in May, thought that would be it, and now we’re here. It’s been crazy and wonderful, and writing and reading fic has truly been my salvation through this terrible year.

I’m getting to this a day or two late, so I’m sure everyone has been tagged already, but I invite any writer to look back on their year of amazing work and share their responses! I always say that I’m my own biggest fan (as we all should be), and things like this really give me a moment to appreciate just how much I’ve been able to achieve.

(Actually, let me tag @emisfritish - we might not be in the same fandoms anymore, but I know she’s had a stellar writing year, and I want to hear all about it!)

#about my writing

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lucy-268 · 4 years

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Babysitting Weekend

A/N - So I got this request in my inbox from @choicesandanimeruleme to use ‘I hope you step on a lego’ for Bryce and MC. Because I like a challenge I’m also going to add in the weekly challenge “Why are you looking at me like that? I swear I didn’t do anything!” It’s also going to have the wacky drabbles prompt “Don’t get up. I’ll do it.” And day 2 of the monthly challenge. “and then”

I also created a new MC, because Charley may have hooked up with Bryce before Ethan, but Charley’s heart belongs to Ethan. So in any Bryce fics I write, my MC is Maggie. If I write more than three, I may do a Meet my MC post about her.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to PB

Warnings: none

Series/Pairing: Open Heart - Bryce x f!MC (Maggie); Zaid x Ines

Word count: 1,204 (Sorry, it was a request and three challenges. 1,000 wasn’t doable.)

“Be sure you sleep in the guest room and not our room!” Zaid ordered.

“You can sleep wherever you want to,” Ines said, glaring at her husband.

“The guest room is fine for us. It’s close to the kids rooms, so we’ll hear them if they wake up,” Maggie Lahela told them.

Zaid looked at Ines. “This is a bad idea, we shouldn’t leave the kids with people who haven’t taken care of…”

Ines put her hand on his arm and Maggie smiled at him. “Zaid, we may not have kids we take care of day-to-day-”

“Yet.” Bryce called from where he was sitting on the floor with four-year old Georg and three-year-old Tiana. Maggie glared at her husband. “But after my year on the diagnostics team, I moved to pediatrics.” She tipped her head at him and grinned. “Some people would think as a pediatrician, I’d be better qualified to care for children than you.”

Ines was still surprised at what Bryce had said. “Are you trying? You don’t have to answer, I’m being nosy.”

Maggie looked over at her husband playing with the children. “We’re talking about starting to try.”

Maggie herded them towards the door. “Go. We’ll be fine until Baz comes to take over on Sunday night. Enjoy your next five days.”

They gave the kids hugs before finally setting off. The kids ran back to their toys with Bryce following along after them. After a few minutes, he turned to look at his wife. “Why are you looking at me like that? I swear I didn’t do anything!”

“Excuse me if I would rather everyone not know that we may or may not be discussing starting a family,” Maggie turned on her heel and walked into the kitchen, pushing the swinging door with more force than was required.

Bryce followed after her, ready to apologize, even though he didn’t think he had done anything wrong. He remembered the advice Dr. Tanaka had given him. ‘Always say you’re sorry. It makes for a happy wife.’ “Maggie, I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind-” he began.

“That’s the problem, you didn’t think.” She nodded towards the door. “What are they doing in there?”

“Building shit with LEGOs and Play Doh.”

“Do you know what kids that age do with LEGOs, Bryce?”

Bryce was confused. “They snap them together and build things.”

“As someone who works in pediatrics, let me tell you what other things they do. They stuff them where they aren’t supposed to go,” she informed him. “Do you know how to get a LEGO out of someone’s nose? I do; I’ve done it more than once. Or their ear. Play Doh can also be stuffed places.”

Bryce’s eyes widened. “I didn’t think about that. Should I take those toys away from them? I’m surprised Zaid and Ines let them in the house.”

Maggie watched him for a second. “Or you could go in there and watch them! Let them play with them, but watch them.”

“That makes sense.” Bryce remained in the kitchen, nodding. After agreeing that the children needed to be watched.

“Or I’ll go since you aren’t.”

“No, I’ll go. Sorry.” As he left out the kitchen, he thought he heard her say something and he thought it was ‘I hope you step on a LEGO,’ but he knew his wife wouldn't wish that on him. Maybe he should go back and…

“NO!” The scream came from the living room. Bryce turned to see what the kids were doing, but he wasn’t fast enough. Maggie ran out of the kitchen and got to the kids just in time for Georg to throw a long piece of Play Doh at Tiana.

Tiana screamed again. “It’s a snake! Get it off!” while Georg laughed.

Maggie sat next to the two of them and pulled Tiana onto her lap. She gently pulled the Play Doh snake out of the little girl’s hair and turned to Georg. “Hey, Georg, your mom said that your favorite food is pizza.”

Georg nodded. “Can we have that for dinner tonight?”

“Actually, we can’t because your mom already made a stew that’s been cooking all day. But, if you promise not to throw Play Doh at your sister, we can have it tomorrow.”

Georg thought for a minute. “Just Play Doh?”

Bryce laughed and sat down with the three of them. “How about you don’t throw anything at your sister?”

Georg reluctantly agreed and Maggie headed back to the kitchen. The rest of the evening progressed rather uneventfully until Maggie and Bryce were settled into the guest room.

“You’re good with kids,” Bryce told her as she opened her book.

“I am.”

“I like to think that I am, too,” Bryce began.

Just then one of the kids called. “I need a glass of water!”

Maggie looked at Bryce, who was staring at the door. “Anyways, I was saying...”

Maggie rolled her eyes and got out of bed. “Don’t get up. I’ll do it.”

“What?”

“I’ll go take Tiana a drink of water.” She turned around to look at him. “You could go check on Georg.”

Maggie opened the door to the little girl’s room and brought her a glass of water. “Did you want this?”

Tiana nodded and drank while Maggie sat on the bed and watched her. “Will you tell me a story?”

“Why don’t you tell me a story instead,” Maggie asked her.

“I don’t know any.”

“Make one up.”

“How?”

“Why don’t you tell me about your favorite thing to do? If you can do anything you want all day, what would you do?”

“I would go to the aquar-um.”

“Is that fun? I’ve been here for six years and haven’t gone yet.” Maggie said. “What do you like best?”

“I like the seals bestest. And then they have a turtle named mert? No. It’s green.”

Maggie spoke. “I think her name is Myrtle?”

Tiana nodded. “Yeah. And then they have penguins.”

“Penguins sound fun. I love penguins.”

“Georg likes sharks, but I think they are scary. He called me a baby.” Tiana yawned and said she was tired.

Maggie re-tucked her in bed and turned to see Bryce leaning against the door jamb, a smile on his face.

He held out his hand and she laced her fingers with his and they went back to the guest room.

**************

Two days later they were back at their own apartment after leaving Baz in charge.

Keiki was settled on the sofa and greeted them when they walked in. “How was pretend parenting for a weekend?”

“Bryce will tell you all about it. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Maggie said going into the bedroom.

She returned fifteen minutes later and sat on the arm of the sofa. Bryce was just finishing up details about the weekend. “It was a lot of fun, but I may not be as ready for it as I thought?”

Maggie leaned over and wrapped an arm around him. “Really? You think you want to put it off a while?”

“Maybe?”

Maggie pulled a white stick from behind her back that showed a plus sign on it. “I think you have about seven months to get ready.”

@oofchoices @openheart12 @jamespotterthefirst @ohchoices @catchinglikekeronsene @aylamreads @nerdydinosaursweets @eramsey28 @queencarb @thegreentwin @lion-ess24 @caseyvalentineramsey @txemrn

@choicesficwriterscreations @wackydrabbles @choicesweeklychallenge @choicesmonthlychallenge

#open heart fanfiction #open heart #choices open heart #bryce lahela #dr bryce labels x mc #ziad x ines #choicesweeklychallenge #choices fic writers creations #wacky drabbles #choices monthly challenge

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queenangst · 4 years

Note

Talk all about it plz

this answer is re: my 30 min fic challenge + why i think writers should try it!

30 min fic challenge / ‘30 min fics’ tag / the original challenge post (feel free to reblog this or make your own, but it’d be nice if you credited/linked me)

Here is an ask i answered about how i manage my time, and here is an ask where i talk about the challenge.

from the second ask, because i think i put it well there:

i came up with the 30 min fics challenge last year as a way to push myself, to see what i could do—and it’s helped me learn about just how much of a story i can write in develop in a short time. every fic is a learning experience; 30 minutes is just the right amount of time; enough to write something with weight and substance, but not enough to sit there and think, or to go back and edit.

i think the 30 min fic challenge is 1) a really great challenge, which you should strive to do with your writing 2) a lot of fun!

it’s also helped me develop a better relationship with some of my writing. it’s 30 minutes - mostly unedited and uncut. to be able to develop a full fic, you don’t have time to think too much about your work and what direction it’s going. you also don’t have a lot of time to change or fix things, so it’s a great way to learn how to problem solve and improvise. it’s giving structure to a sort of free-writing exercise, and to do this challenge successfully, you have to think fast and think ahead.

also because of the speed of the challenge, it’s easy to distance yourself from your work. a lot of times i feel like as writers we put so much of ourselves in our work, and when our feedback or our result, etc, is not what we want/expect, we get very disappointed in that. but these are 30 min fics! they might be very good. they might only feel okay. the more you do, the easier they get. that’s fine!

and most of all it’s doable, and it forces you to write. you might be stuck writing a one-shot or part of a story for months. you might feel like writing hasn’t been coming to you easily. or maybe you just want to write something quick, without having to think about a billion different plot points. but you can take 30 minutes, or an hour, or whatever variation of time you like; and by the end of it, you’ll have created something.

how the 30 min fic challenge works

30 minutes. 1 prompt. write a fic.

this is originally designed as a writing ask game, but you can also use pre-existing prompts, or prompts of your own choosing/making. some advice - don’t use prompts that are too broad or too large in scale. here is an ask i got about what makes a good prompt.

there’s a couple rules that you have to follow in order for it to really be a challenge, so i’ll just add them onto this post.

no/minimal planning planning takes away the heart of the challenge, which is to look at a prompt and adapt quickly - to create a story out of nothing. at most, you should have an idea or a direction of where you think a prompt will take you, and then you should start writing. you should not be taking five or ten minutes to think about what you’re going to write. just look, get a general idea, and start writing.

continuous 30 minutes this shouldn’t be a 30 minutes that’s broken up over a long period of time, like a few days. though personally, i usually break the writing up into three 10-minute ‘sprints’ or two 15-minute ones that i do consecutively right after one another, which helps me get a better sense of time.

no/little editing after finishing try to do as little editing as you can after you finish. go back and fix any syntax mistakes, of course, and little things like that. maybe adjust some words. but that should be it.

you can cheat a little :) these rules are what i try my best to follow. but honestly no one’s going to know if you break them a little. change up how you tackle the challenge, edit, plan... if it helps you produce a story, then i’m all for it. these rules are, honestly, guidelines. they’re present so you the writer can have a slight level of disconnect, so you don’t get too deeply invested or spend too much time on them, and to challenge you... but break them if you need.

other thoughts: 30 minutes is the time i’ve found works well for me, not too long and not too short. but feel free to adjust.

#30 min fic challenge #30 min fics #asks #writing #anonymous

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tolkienrsb · 4 years

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TRSB20: Updated FAQs + 1 Week Until Signups Open!

Gooooood evening, TRSB-ers!

There’s just under a week to go until we open signups. We hope you’re as excited as we are! Here is a handy countdown clock in case you want to get your signup in as soon as the forms go live.

We’ve also updated our FAQs. There’s a summary of key info and dates below but please, please read through the whole set before you commit to the Bang. We know it’s long read. We’re sorry. But this is a summer-long event with a lot of milestones; you’ll save us, yourself and your fellow participants a lot of stress if you’re armed with the right info from the beginning.

***

What is the TRSB?

A Tolkien-fandom-wide event celebrating the talent of our fanwork creators, co-run by Raiyana and Narya, your friendly community mods. This challenge is open to all characters, genres and ratings, and all canons that fall under the Tolkien fandom umbrella.

This includes movieverse, lesser known works by Tolkien, and/or other works with a clear link to his life or creative output – for example, the 2019 Tolkien film, fan-made films like Born of Hope, and game canons such as Lord of the Rings Online.

No, but, Raiy, what is it specifically?

A Reverse Bang is a type of Big Bang event in which artists submit art prompts (up to 3 in total). The art prompts are then claimed by writers who will write a piece of long-ish fiction (min. 5,000 words) based on the prompt chosen.

Big Bang? Wait, are you going to make me write a novel, Narya?!

No, minimum word count is set at 5,000 words. And you have three months. Trust us, it's doable ;)

OK...what are the timings?

April 1 – Art suggestion form open

April 17 – Sign-ups open

May 10 – Artist sign-ups close

May 15 – Art Draft due. Suggestion form closes.

May 17 – Art Drafts open for previews to signed-up authors

May 22 – Author sign-ups close

May 24, 19:00 CET – Claims open (what time is that for me?)

May 31 – Post-Claim Check In – This is to ensure that our collaborators have got in touch with each other

June 7 – Art due from artists who chose the “total free rein for author” option at sign-up

June 28 – Check in. We will be asking how your collaboration is progressing

July 26 – Check in (authors should be roughly halfway through writing fics by now)

August 2 – Art due from all remaining artists; final version of the art must be provided to the author.

August 16 – Deadline to abandon your fic to a pinch hitter AND final check in. We will ask:

Whether you have discussed posting logistics with your artist (if you’re embedding art in your AO3 story, for example)

Whether you have specific posting needs re publicizing date/time frame

August 30 – Fics due in AO3 collection (unless you’re writing a last minute pinch hit, in which case we can be a little more flexible)

September 6 – Collection reveals; staggered Tumblr reblogs begin.

Alright, you've made me curious. Where can I find out more?

The full FAQs can be found here. Please read this before you make your final decision on whether to participate.

This all sounds great! Where do I sign up?

Starting from 17 April, you can sign up here (Artists) or here (Writers).

Artists should sign up using their Tumblr, DeviantArt, Dreamwidth or AO3 name, depending on which is their primary platform. Please tell us in your signup which one you have used.

Authors must have an AO3 account to participate and should sign up with their AO3 username. This is to make it easier for us to track who has and hasn't put their finished fic in the collection. If you don't have an account as at signups, don't panic - please either join their waiting list in plenty of time, or contact Raiyana or Narya, and we'll help you to get one.

I want to join in but I don't want to commit to a 5k word fic.

That's fine! We encourage treats of all lengths. If you think you might like to write a treat but don't want to commit to a full collaboration, sign up anyway so you can have access to the gallery, and then simply don't participate in claims. The signup itself is not an obligation.

You can also sign up as a beta-reader or a pinch-hitter only.

I’ve signed up; now what do I need to do?

Now it’s time to get creative! Artists, start working on your masterpieces. Why not look at our suggestion spreadsheet for inspiration? This contains lots of ideas from potential writers who might want to claim your art! Authors, if you like you can suggest a prompt to our artists until 15 May (though the sooner you do this, the more likely it is that an artist will notice your suggestion and make use of it).

Otherwise, sit back and wait for the mods to get in touch with information about claims!

#fandom event #tolkien #trsb20 #silm #hobbit #lotr

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allie1804-fan · 4 years

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Please Assist Me (Chapter 21)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10 , Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15 , Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20

Warnings :

He Said

It was a strange feeling going back to set when this utterly momentous thing had happened. I felt untethered and for the first time in a long, long time, worried about my focus. I’d had a stressful time over 20 years ago on The Devil’s Advocate but that was more about nerves and Pacino than it was about distraction. Then when Jen was expecting Ava, I was in Baltimore working on The Replacements but I have to confess to a degree of ambivalence at first about that pregnancy so I was almost happier to box up this thing and pretend it wasn’t happening until the shoot was over. This time I knew I would just want to be there and be caring for Sophia and the kids and not be on set at all.

I would have to draw on my inner resources and commitment to the project to get me through this one. And the memories from those short 5 days were pretty special. The pregnancy test surprise, the scan, the kids’ sweet concern that the baby would make it and my sisters’ and mom’s delight at the news. Karina, and Mom had been unable to resist hugging us both despite social distancing still being important. They hadn’t been anywhere in weeks though so we were OK to let it go for this special moment. And just being back with Sophia again, making love with her – those memories would do their usual dual trick of sustaining me and making me miss her all the more but I wouldn’t trade them.

As soon as I got back, I met with Chad and updated him with my news. I also shared my worries about focus – he dismissed them as bullshit - not meaning to be mean but because he knew me and was confident that once we got on set, I’d be as on it as ever. I was thankful he had faith in me and hoped I could live up to it.

She Said

It was late July and I was laying on a sun-lounger by a pool in a villa in Provence. Time to chill at last and to look forward to seeing Keanu later that day. He was joining us direct from New York whereas we had already had a week there and were currently enjoying the company of Alex, Ramsey and their 2 kids. In fact at this specific moment, it was their two kids who were affording me the time to lay back as they were splashing around in the pool with my 2 meaning all I needed to do was ensure the snacks kept coming and that my two had on enough sunscreen!

I had last seen Keanu 5 weeks before when he’d flown home to attend the 12 week scan. All was well including the abnormality risk assessment so he’d been able to return to set reassured. After that I had facetimed or phoned him if possible when I had midwife appointments but on a couple of occasions he’d just got a heartbeat recording after the event! I know he treasured that though, sometimes sneaking a listen to it when he was hanging around on set waiting for the crew to be ready.

We kept in touch with calls most but not every night and we never had any relapses or forgetfulness any more. We usually had the call at around 6pm (9pm his time) and If Eva was around she would always update him on what the corresponding size of fruit was to the baby. By the last, call about a week ago in mid July, we were up to the size of an apple!

We’d decided to head to France for a family holiday since Covid related travel restrictions had eased somewhat and Keanu had missed his chance the previous year for a European break. He had hired a bike which was waiting here and would spend some time enjoying the winding, hilly roads of the Vars region which we’d chosen due to it being a bit off the beaten track compared to the hills around Nice or Cannes. We’d found a big property which had 10 bedrooms meaning plenty of friends could join us which they were doing more on rotation than all at once but the space meant we shouldn’t have to turn anyone away. There was a maid service too – I didn’t want one of those holidays where you still have all your usual jobs to do, just more of them but in a prettier place! Mind you, since I’d got pregnant, Keanu had insisted I get a maid service at home as well as the kids’ lock down tutor so my domestic responsibilities had reduced significantly.

The kids and I had travelled over with my mother and at some point in the next couple of weeks we’d host Karina, her husband, Keanu’s Mom and Kim and possibly Chad and his partner if they could make the time.

He Said

I emerged somewhat groggy to the terminal in Nice and was happy that we’d arranged a car so I could just find the guy with ‘Reeves’ on his sign and snooze for the roughly one hour journey to the villa. I was greeted first by Eva and Miguel who Sophia said had been waiting by the gate for about the last hour with their welcome sign! Then I got to see my beautiful girl walking towards me in a cream maxi-dress which showed the gentle swell of her growing baby bump to perfection. She was literally glowing now.

“Hey you”

“Hey you two!”

We saved the passionate smooching for later but had a long hug on the driveway before going in to say hi to our other guests.

The house was what they call a ‘bastide’, built up on a hill and it had been extended with some of the rooms being in a separate self contained building which was nice for friends like Alex to have their own space. There were a couple of verandas both with pergolas covered with climbers for shade and of course a pool. Indoors most rooms had terracotta tiles and the shutters which kept the place cool and also meant it would be pitch black until they were opened so everyone would sleep in. Our room felt instantly soothing with cream walls and blue and cream striped curtains and bed linen.

I am not someone who takes many proper holidays. I get to travel so much with work usually that the thing I want most when I’m finished with a project is to be a homebody and catch up with friends in LA.

With this holiday though, Sophia’s planning meant I got many of those home comforts (reading, biking, friends, family) and the added bonus of being somewhere new.

My regular job ended up being fetching bread and croissants from the bakery in the morning. I could do that on the Harley I’d rented using the paniers – there was quite a lot of bread needed every day after all! Days were spent by the pool mostly but with the odd break to stock up on food, beer and wine from a local supermarket. When Sophia and I went to do this, I was sure I was being stared at and risked being stopped but she said she’d noticed the French seemed to stare at everyone so it probably wasn’t personal! No-one approached me so either she was right or they were just more respectful of privacy! Our evening meals on most days consisted of salads and/ or something cooked on the barbecue followed by card games, music and conversation into the evening with the whole gang (whichever configuration we were on that day!) gathered on the terrace together breaking bread, laughing and joking.

With so many other adults at the house to take the kids, we were also able to enjoy a couple of meals out on our own. I wished I could have taken Sophia on the bike up into the hills but obviously we couldn’t risk that so we drove, finding sleepy villages with beautiful tree-lined squares that usually featured an old stone fountain just like the one in the Marcel Pagnol films Jean de Fleurette and Manon de Sources.

It was just a perfect time, made even more so by the fact that this is where I first felt the baby move.

It was quite late one night and Sophia had gone ahead to bed earlier than me. I expected to find her sleeping when I got there but she was sitting up, holding her hand on her belly, smiling at me as I walked in. My eyebrows shot up, reading her expression and she nodded. I rushed to settle next to her but when I put my hand on her belly, I couldn’t feel anything.

“Maybe try laying your face against me” she suggested.

I eased down and lifted up her t shirt, laid my cheek against her belly and held my breath. After a few moments, I squeezed her hand as I felt a gentle fluttering against my cheek. My tears ended up on her belly. That’s also when I started speaking every day to our baby, all the way through to the birth. Mostly it would just be telling them about our day but sometimes I would use it as a way to say something to Sophia that I was nervous to tackle in a more direct conversation. Like my suggestion that she and the kids either move in with me or we look for a new home together.

“So I was thinking” I murmured to her stomach “that maybe when we get back to LA, we should all be together, like we have been here, always.”

“Really?”

“Yeah of course – we have this little person arriving, we can’t live apart then can we? I mean you weren’t thinking….. I mean I’d want to live with you anyway, but….” Now I was totally burbling!

She was laughing at me by then.

“No you’re right, I just didn’t know how you felt about sharing your home with all of us or moving or anything. Guess I’ve actually being taking one day at a time on some things!”

“Well I want you all with me. I mean there’s room at my place. We’ll have to change things around obviously but that’s doable. Or if you want a new start we can look for somewhere.”

“OK, let’s do one of your mind map and incubate things and tackle it when we get back. We have 3-4 months before I’m going to basically be a beached whale and not able to do much!”

By the time we left, I was definitely sold on this kind of holiday being in my future – another wonderful change in me that had been down to Sophia.

@fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithk’eanu @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @fics-not-tragedies @ficsnroses @keanureevesisbae @penwieldingdreamer @witty-wallflower @paperplanesandwallflowers @bitchyslut99 @ladyreapermc @toomanystoriessolittletime @fanficsrusz @keanuficfiles @bitchyslut99

#keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu #keanu reeves #romance with boss

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bastardnev · 5 years

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Broken (But Not Beyond Repair)

yknow i spent a whole lot of time referring to this as “the valentine’s fic” but meanwhile valentine’s day is mentioned like Once during this whole story. Nevertheless !

tagging: @sailor-slam-dunk @residentjoth @riveliciousx @lambchopviking @storyranger @nerdbrose (lemme kno if u wanna be added to my tag list !!)

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: World Wrestling Entertainment, Professional Wrestling, All Elite Wrestling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Mustafa Ali/Pac | Adrian Neville Characters: Mustafa Ali, Pac | Adrian Neville Additional Tags: Valentine's Day, sorta but not really, its more mentioned than anything else tbh, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, i guess, Making Up, au where nev still lives in orlando and also has a big fucking dog, mustafa worries a lot, Implied Sexual Content Series: Part 2 of Jess Has Too Many Fics In Her Notes Summary: By all means, Mustafa shouldn't have even been thinking about Neville anymore. It had been over two years since he left WWE, and they were both at completely different points in their careers. It was pointless to dwell on the past or give any real thought to what could have been — all that mattered anymore was what the future held, and it looked like their respective paths were headed in opposite directions.

And yet, despite all of this, there Mustafa was. Seated in his rental car, in the parking lot of some cheap motel he had planned to spend the night at. Neville's number dialed on his phone.

(link to ao3)

By all means, Mustafa shouldn't have even been thinking about Neville anymore. It had been over two years since he left WWE, and they were both at completely different points in their careers. It was pointless to dwell on the past or give any real thought to what could have been — all that mattered anymore was what the future held, and it looked like their respective paths were headed in opposite directions.

And yet, despite all of this, there Mustafa was. Seated in his rental car, in the parking lot of some cheap motel he had planned to spend the night at. Neville's number dialed on his phone.

Mustafa stared down at the screen, squinting against the bright light. The rain rhythmically tapping against the roof of the car left him in almost a trance-like state as he debated whether or not to hit the "call" button. This wasn't the first time he found himself in this position — he was tempted to get in touch with Neville just about every time he and the rest of the WWE crew passed through Orlando during live event tours. He would usually only get as far as his contacts list, however, and he was never actually able to bring himself to make that move. Once he learned that the latest show would see him in the area again, he assumed that things would play out as they normally did, with him backing out at the last second and pretending like he had zero interest in seeing Neville.

But that didn't happen. This time, the urge to get in contact was so strong , far more than it ever had been. To the point where Mustafa was in the car and fully prepared to drive right over to Neville’s house. He had no idea what exactly it was, but he had arrived in town with an almost overwhelming feeling to just bite the bullet and do it. A sense that he needed to stop putting off something that was killing him not to do. He wasn't even sure where it came from, but it was certainly there — a feeling that he needed to reach out, to call, to talk to Neville again after so long of little to no contact.

To possibly rekindle a relationship that had meant so much to him.

To put it bluntly, Mustafa and Neville's relationship was, at its core, supposed to be just sex. Nothing more than that. "No strings attached", they always insisted. Once a week ( maybe twice, if they were feeling up to it), they would meet up in a hotel room to fool around, to blow off steam after a show. After Raw, after 205 — they weren't picky. Whenever they were both in the same place and could meet up, they spent the night together. It was nothing more than that, at least at first.

But then, it... changed. It had been gradual — Mustafa hadn't even noticed it right away — but the times they shared started to become something else. Before all they had done was meet up, do what they had to do, and then go their separate ways before anyone knew what they were doing. They did their best to make sure that no one even had a suspicion that there was anything going on between the two of them, hence why Mustafa would always go back to his hotel room after they finished. Whoever he was rooming with normally didn't ask too many questions so long as he was back from his "late night walk" ( horrible excuse, but it worked) at a reasonable time.

Then Mustafa started to actually stay the night with Neville. The first time he had simply been too tired and lazy to leave. The second time had followed a very similar format, only Neville didn't put up as much of a fight. Every time it happened thereafter, Neville cared less and less, and before either of them knew it it had become an established part of their routine, their desire not to clue anyone in on their secret be damned.

And then came the invites to each other's houses. It had started as a way to save money whenever tapings were in Chicago or Orlando, but before long they had becomed planned affairs, with one spending anywhere from a day to a whole weekend at the other's home. They acted like this was so they could hook up easier (and more frequently), but the fact was that those nights were... fun . More fun than they thought they would be. It wasn't just sex anymore — they were cooking together, and buying way too many snacks together, and eating those same snacks as they binged the dumbest fucking movies together. (Stupid Movie Fridays, they'd taken to calling them, though they weren't opposed to other days of the week being devoted to corny films.)

They were... getting closer. Close enough that Mustafa wasn't sure if they should be labeled as acquaintances, or as friends, or as... something even more than that.

Whatever the hell they were, it all came to a screeching halt in October of 2017, when Neville left the company and didn’t look back.

Mustafa still texted him after everything happened, but it was clear that things weren't how they used to be. Neville was distracted, so caught up in the drama of requesting his release that he didn't seem to have time to talk with him anymore. It wasn't like Mustafa didn't understand — though he'd never been through the process himself, he could only imagine how stressful it must be, especially given the specifics of Neville's situation. Not to mention that his own career picked up notably only a few short months later, and he hadn't done much better on the consistent communication front. This was far from being a one-sided issue.

What had gotten to Mustafa the most, though, was how abrupt it all was. How one moment the two of them were talking, and laughing, and genuinely enjoying one another's company more than they ever thought they would, only for all of it to suddenly stop. How they used to text each other the most ridiculous and pointless shit, only for their messaging to slowly taper off until it ceased altogether.

As of that moment, in February of 2020, contact between them was nonexistent. Like they were total strangers.

Mustafa wanted so badly to change that.

His thumb was hovering precariously over the "call" button. It was such a simple thing to do, but he was still having so much trouble with it. If he did that, then Neville would pick up, and then two of them would be talking again for the first time in years. He would get what he wanted. It was so easy, so doable .

Even so, he was hesitant. There was no guarantee that Neville would pick up to begin with. It was possible that he would see who was calling him and immediately reject the call, or let it ring and ring until Mustafa eventually gave up and left him alone. Worse yet, he might have deleted Mustafa's number, and he would hit him with a dreaded "Who is this?" the moment he answered. Each of those situations sent a chill down his spine, and it made him want to turn off his phone and forget about this plan like he always did.

But Mustafa couldn't let those worst-case scenarios get to him. Not anymore. He needed to do it, and he needed to do it right then and there. Otherwise, it would likely never happen.

With that, he made the call.

Bringing the phone up to his ear, Mustafa chewed on his lower lip. He listened to the rings, first one, then two. His heart was pounding in his chest by the time the fifth ring rolled around. A little voice was yelling at him from the back of his mind, telling him that he'd made a huge mistake and should just hang up the phone already. It was clear that Neville didn't want to talk to him — if he did, he would've picked up. It was only a matter of time before he got sent to voicemail and was forced to either hang up or leave some embarrassing message for Neville to delete—

"Ali?"

"Oh—" Mustafa's whole body tensed at the sound of Neville's voice coming from the receiver. He'd actually picked up — shit, shit, shit . He scrambled for something to say, anything . "...Hiya."

Real smooth, dumbass . "Hello..." Neville responded tentatively. God , it had been way too long since Mustafa last heard him. He probably would have enjoyed the moment more if he didn't just make a complete fool out of himself.

"What, ah...” Just say something! “What're you up to?"

"I'm... at home." Neville still sounded wary. Mustafa couldn’t exactly blame him.

"You had a match this week, right?" Mustafa remembered seeing tweets about it on his timeline. Reading that Neville had won had put him in quite the good mood for the rest of the night.

"I did."

"Good for you." Mustafa nodded. “Makin’ moves.”

Then, the line fell silent, and Mustafa had no choice but to come to terms with the fact that he did not plan this well — or at all, really. All those nights of internal arguments and wondering about how a potential phone call between him and Neville would play out ultimately failed him. He had no idea what to say next, or how to get to the point without making himself look like an even bigger idiot.

Fortunately for him, Neville was the one who eventually broke the silence. "Ali, what's going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I— Are you kidding? You just called me out of absolutely nowhere. Why?"

“...Oh, that.” What else would he be talking about?!

“Yeah, that .” The tone left Neville’s voice and, quieter, he added, “Is everything alright?"

Mustafa swallowed. There, that was his opening. "Everything's fine, it's just..." He paused. "I... WWE's in Orlando this weekend.”

Neville was silent for a beat. "...Is that so?"

"Mhm. I just got to my motel a little while ago. Haven't even gotten out of the car yet, though, because of this rain." Taking a deep breath through his nose, he said, "I... was thinking about you. Wanted to know how things were."

“I see...” The line went quiet again, the only sound being that of Neville’s breathing and the rain, which seemed to have only gotten worse in the time they were talking. Mustafa was dreading eventually having to get out of the car.

“I-I know it’s sudden,” Mustafa explained, an attempt to save himself from this awkward situation. “And that you probably didn’t expect to hear from me.”

“I definitely didn’t.”

“Yeah... But I just wanted to check up on you. Make sure things were good.”

“They’re... They’re fine, thank you.” After a beat, “And you?”

“Same here.” Mustafa looked out the raindrop-speckled window. “I’m tired as hell, but... Still, it’s all good.”

This conversation needed to end. It was going nowhere, and Mustafa knew this. Hearing from Neville again was great, but all he was doing was embarrassing himself. Clearing his throat, he said, “Well... I guess I should be going. Still gotta get my room.”

“You haven’t even got one yet?” Neville asked. “What do you plan on doing if there isn’t one available?”

“I’ve slept in enough cars during my career to be okay with it. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t remember ever saying I was worried.”

Mustafa snorted. “You haven’t changed a bit, you know that?”

“At least I’m consistent.”

“That, you are...” Mustafa licked his lips. “I’ll... talk to you later, maybe, okay?”

“Alright...”

Mustafa sighed softly. Here’s to hoping I’ll actually have the balls to call him again after this. He thought to himself as he brought the phone away from his ear. Considering how long it had taken him to initiate this five minute chat, it would probably take him an eternity to do it all a second time.

He was just about to hang up when he heard Neville say, “Wait!”

The phone was back to Mustafa’s ear in a flash. “Yes?”

Neville seemed to hesitate for a moment, but he asked, "If it’s not too far from your motel, do you... want to come over for a bit? Just until this storm lets up."

Mustafa’s eyes widened. “U-Uh...” He stammered, very much caught off guard. He had wanted to go to Neville’s house earlier, but he didn’t expect him to straight up invite him , completely unprovoked.

“If it’s too much trouble, then don’t worry about it,” Neville backtracked. “I know the weather is messy—“

“No it’s not,” Mustafa cut him off. “I mean, yes, it is, but I can still drive in it."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't. You know I'm a good driver."

"I know you're a slow driver."

"Close enough. I’ll... I’ll be over in a little bit.”

He heard Neville breathe out (in relief?) “Alright. You, uh, still know the way?”

“Yeah, I do.” Mustafa could never forget.

The one benefit to the rain being so heavy was that the roads were mostly clear. The few cars that were out at that hour were driven by people getting home late from work and lovesick idiots like Mustafa. He had to be careful, of course, since an accident was the absolute last thing he wanted at that moment (and always, really), but he maintained a decent speed as he went down familiar streets and made familiar turns, ones that he hadn't made in ages. All so that he could see Neville in-person again.

What would the two of them even do ? That question was bouncing around inside of Mustafa’s head the whole time he was driving. He... highly doubted that they would hook up, given the amount of time they had been apart. It was unlikely that they would so easily fall back into their old pattern. Chances were they would spend more time catching up (or sitting in uncomfortable silence) than anything else. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that — happy? Disappointed? An odd combination of both?

No matter how he might have felt, it was definitely happening. And before Mustafa knew it, he was pulling up to the front of Neville’s home, parking in what had been his usual spot only two years ago.

Mustafa shut the car off. Staring up at the house, he realized that it was no different than it had been the last time he visited. Very... ordinary. There weren’t any decorations up, despite Valentine's Day being just around the corner. He wasn’t quite sure what he expected, really — Neville had never been all that into decorating. Thought it was all a scam and a waste of time, even though it made his home stick out like a sore thumb during the holidays. Just as he’d said on the phone during their chat, he was as consistent as ever. The familiarity was... comforting.

Bracing himself for the weather, Mustafa stepped out into the rain, taking a moment to lock the car before hustling up to the front porch. His heart was thumping as he climbed up the steps. Come on, you can do this, don’t chicken out now. All the worst-case scenarios were starting to creep their way back into his mind, telling him that this visit was pointless. That they were far too different now, and getting together again even for a little while would only make things worse somehow. Mustafa stared intently down the doorbell, as if it were challenging him with its faint glow, and he pressed it before he could talk himself out of it. Screw that pessimism — he was already there. If talking to each other was bad, then running away when he was expected was even worse.

And, truthfully, leaving unnoticed at that point was impossible. The door was opened only a moment after he'd rung the bell, like Neville had been standing there waiting for him on the other side, and just like that Mustafa was once again faced with the man who he’d spent countless nights with only a few years ago. A soft, shy smile spread across Mustafa’s face. “...Hey, Nev.”

“Hi...” Neville’s expression mirrored his — his smile was still stunning. “It’s... certainly been awhile, hasn't it?”

“Sure has.” Mustafa’s hands were shoved deep in his pockets. Too long. Mustafa wasn't sure if he should say this last thought aloud or not.

“Well, don’t just stand there — it’s pouring.” Neville stepped aside. The rumble of thunder off in the distance did an equally good job of reminding Mustafa of the bad weather, and he nodded, making sure to wipe his feet as best as he could on the mat before he walked inside. "Just put your shoes with the rest of mine."

"Got it." Some of Neville's shoes were lined up against the opposite wall, surprisingly neat. This alone made it clear that Neville had managed to do (or, scrambled to do) some last minute cleaning before he showed up. They were usually a mess, one that Mustafa teased him about almost every visit. He couldn't say anything this time, however, and instead he went about slipping his own pair off.

Then, a large black shape came charging at him from the end of the hallway.

“Winston!!” Mustafa grinned, and he crouched down, scratching the bullmastiff on his head once he stopped in front of him. The dog responded by licking his face, and Mustafa laughed. “I missed you!”

“Looks like he missed you, too,” Neville mused from behind him, and Mustafa heard him close the door.

“It’s been way too long, boy-o!” Another rub to the head. Winston's tail was like a propeller, wagging rapidly. A paw came to rest on Mustafa's arm, and he faltered a little. "Hey, don't knock me over now."

"I don't mean to interrupt this tender reunion, but can I get you something to drink? Water, maybe?"

Mustafa looked up to Neville, Winston licking his hands now in an attempt to regain his attention. "That'd be good, thanks."

Neville gave him a nod and made his way towards the kitchen. Winston turned and followed him right away, which caused Mustafa's eyebrows to raise. "Wait, where're you goin'? I thought you wanted me to pet you!"

"He sees me going to the kitchen, he follows," Neville yelled back. "Seems to think me being in here automatically means he'll get a treat."

"Doesn't it?"

A pause. "...Well, yeah, but..." Neville trailed off, and Mustafa couldn't help but chuckle and roll his eyes. Who could've guessed the "Bastard" would be such a pushover?

Now alone in the hallway, Mustafa took a quick look around, noting some of the pictures on the wall. He wanted to say it was an evenly distributed assortment of photos, shots of family and the dog alike, but it was clear that there were just a few more of Winston than anything else. Neville's love for him seemed to have grown tenfold in the time he and Mustafa had been apart. Mustafa couldn't help but wish that he had a pet of his own. Winston had filled that role for awhile, but... well, it was hard for him to actually bond with an animal when he wasn't even speaking to its owner.

Mustafa decided to head into the living room then, and he sat down on the couch, shifting in the plush seat as he waited for Neville (and Winston, hopefully) to come back. The rain was still pattering away against the window, and Mustafa silently hoped that it would let up before the end of the night. Having to go back out into such a downpour and drive all the way to his motel — the same one he still didn't have a room at, now that he thought about it — would not be fun. The more he put it off, the more likely it seemed he would be spending that damp night in the backseat of his rental...

Mustafa shook his head and tried to get rid of the thought. He would worry about that later, after he did... whatever it was that he planned on doing with Neville. He still hadn't figured that out.

Sitting there and looking around the room, it was all so... familiar to Mustafa, just as so many other things were. Everything that had happened since he arrived at the house had been apart of his and Neville's routine — the old one, from before everything changed. It was all the same, from Winston greeting him at the front door to the drink offer. There was even some Netflix movie paused on the TV. Mustafa admittedly didn't recognize the name of it, but if he knew Neville half as well as he thought he did, it had to be tacky. Stupid Movie Night lived on, even though they hadn't actually gotten together to have one in years.

Mustafa missed this. All of this.

"Here you are," Neville at last returned to the room, handing Mustafa his glass.

"Thanks." Mustafa took it from him. Winston strolled in behind Neville, and Mustafa watched as he followed him closely, sniffing his lap after he sat down at the opposite end of the couch.

"I have nothing more for you, why are you looking at me like that?" Neville gave the dog a scratch behind the ear. "You've already gotten loads of treats tonight, take it easy."

"I see he's just as much of a mooch as he was before."

" Oh yeah. Actually, he might have gotten worse, if that's possible." Winston jumped up on the couch and settled himself as best as he could between Mustafa and Neville, the latter going right back to patting him on the head. "He's my boy, though. Wouldn't trade him for the world."

And then, without warning, it was quiet again.

The room that had just a moment ago been filled with their voices was now filled only with the sound of the rain. Mustafa licked his lips, and he stared at Neville, whose gaze was trained on Winston. When he looked to Mustafa, their eyes met, and Mustafa gave him an awkward smile (which was probably more like a grimace) before turning his attention to the paused movie on the screen. His nerves were beginning to make a comeback, just in time for he and Neville to have the first face-to-face conversation they'd had in a long time. He cursed his luck and, once again, his past self for not properly thinking through his plan for getting back in touch with Neville — he'd gotten as far as "call him and hope for the best" and left it at that.

Neville was the one that invited him over. He wouldn't have done that if there wasn't even a tiny part of him that wanted to see him, to talk to him. Even so, Mustafa was still hesitant, worried that he might slip up and say something that would do the opposite of saving their relationship. But he needed to take a chance. He'd told himself when he was standing on the porch that it was far too late to back out, and it was especially too late now that he was sitting on Neville's damn couch. Taking a slow sip of his water, Mustafa cleared his throat, and he made the first move. "Uh... So, things have been good with you?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth did Mustafa realize he'd asked him almost the exact same question on the phone earlier. However, Neville didn't seem to notice (or maybe he just didn't care). "They have." His hand was on Winston's back now, fingers slowly trailing over his fur. "Busy, but good."

"Weren't you wrestling on that cruise awhile ago?" At Neville's nod, "Damn, that must've been cool."

"It was... something, I'll say that much. Never thought I'd see myself wrestling in the middle of the ocean."

"Isn't there, like, no phone service on cruise ships, though? How did you even survive?"

"All the questions you could ask me about that trip, and you ask me about the wi-fi? I don't live entirely on social media like you do."

"Yeah, yeah..." Mustafa was tempted to take out his phone and begin scrolling through Twiter just to mess with Neville, but he decided against it. That would come later, once he was sure about where their relationship was at. "Either way, I'm really glad you've been able to find so much success."

Neville snorted. "Me too. And how about yourself? What've you been up to?"

"Things are..." Mustafa pursed his lips as he tried to come up with the right words. "They're okay. A little slow, but definitely not bad."

"Is that the polite version of 'I've been almost exclusively in dark matches for the last month'?"

He grinned sheepishly. "So, you know about that..."

"I haven't actually sat down and watched WWE programming in full in ages, but I still try to watch your stuff whenever I can. Once you stopped showing up, I kinda figured you were— ah, how do you put it? 'Stealing the show before the show'?"

"Hey, don't use my words against me like that!"

"Don't use them all the time, then! Seriously, you post the same thing after every dark match. Usually with a shirtless pic attached."

"Ooh, so you know about those , too?" Mustafa waggled his eyebrows. "You like 'em?"

Neville gave no response to this, though the hint of pink on his cheeks told Mustafa everything he needed to know. Cute .

Putting his glass down on the coffee table, Mustafa decided to follow Neville's example, and he also started to stroke Winston's back, the dog himself already sleeping. Mustafa had never known an animal that fell asleep so quickly until he met Winston. He nodded towards the TV. "I see you're watching a movie."

Neville looked to the screen. "Oh, yeah, that's right..." Had he forgotten all about it?

"Is it dumb?"

"Absolutely. You know I never watch anything good by choice."

"I knew it. So, what, is it a horror film?"

"It is, and it is atrocious , even by my standards. Sooner or later I'm gonna come across one that's actually decent, and I'm not gonna know how to handle it."

Mustafa chuckled. "There's no shortage of bad horror films, so I'd say your odds of finding a good one are pretty slim."

"Thankfully. It's, um..." Neville stopped suddenly, and Mustafa's brows furrowed.

"What?"

"It's... nothing, don't worry about it."

A statement sure to make a worrier like Mustafa worry every time he heard it. "Are you sure? You can tell me."

"Eh, you'll just laugh..."

"I will not." Mustafa's tone was gentle, yet firm. "I promise."

Neville blinked at him, then back at the screen. Mustafa couldn't even begin to imagine what it was that he was so hesitant to tell him. Of course, if Neville insisted that he didn't want to talk about it, then Mustafa would back off, but... Still, he didn't want Neville to think that he couldn't trust him not to make fun of him. Not if he wanted them to be back together for good.

Fortunately, Mustafa's prying seemed to be enought convince Neville. A moment later, they locked eyes again, and Neville quietly admitted, "Well... These movies just aren't the same when you're watching them alone. Sometimes I miss having someone to make fun of them with."

Oh. Mustafa's lips parted, his hand coming to a halt on Winston's back. This sudden stoppage caused Neville's hand to bump into his — ever so slightly, their fingers were touching. He expected Neville to flinch back, but he didn't, and his gaze was just as steady as it had been before. Mustafa couldn't bring himself to look away. Was this... an admission that he wanted he two of them to get back together...? Was that the sign that Mustafa had been looking for? He swallowed. "Um... Neville—"

BANG!

A sudden crash of thunder startled all three of them. The lights flickered, and a second later they went out, plunging the room into complete darkness. The loud noise prompted the now-wide awake Winston to leap off of the couch and bolt out into the hallway. "Winston, no!" Mustafa called after him.

"Christ, not again..." Neville griped. "Now is not the time for this..."

"No kidding..." Mother Nature sure had interesting timing.

The flashlight from Neville's phone was then turned on. Neville squinted at the screen. "Damn thing's gonna die if I keep the light on all night..." He muttered. He then stood. "I'll be right back, gotta go grab some candles."

"Can you check on Winston?" Mustafa pleaded to Neville's silhouette, which was already moving out of the room. "Make sure he's okay?"

"He's probably just in the kitchen — that's his hub whenever the power goes out." The little bit of light that had been in the living room faded away as Neville went down the hallway. "Yep, he's here. Hidin' out behind the island."

Mustafa breathed a sigh of relief. Winston was still scared, but at least he wasn't hurt. That was what mattered. "Good. You think he'll come back in with us?"

"Probably not." Neville's voice was fainter now — he must have gone into another room, possibly his bedroom. Mustafa was disappointed to hear this, but he had to have faith that Neville was wrong. He was sure Winston would rejoin them at some point before Mustafa needed to leave (he couldn't leave without properly saying goodbye, after all).

It was only when Neville re-entered the room holding two scented candles and a box of matches that Mustafa remembered the significance of those items.

The candles. How could he have forgotten about the damn candles ? He watched as Neville placed them down on the coffee table and went about lighting them, his brows furrowed as he moved the match from one wick to the next. That look of (almost unnecessary) concentration was such a familiar sight to Mustafa, one that he'd grown to like quite a bit during their time together, but also one that he had not seen for far too long. Now that he was looking at it again, he was transported to a different time, back when he'd first been invited to Neville's house. It very likely wasn't the same candles, but some of very similar scents and colors had been lit when he'd arrived. He teased Neville at first — he never thought he was a Mood Lighting kind of guy — but it turned out that he was just into candles. There was at least one in most of the rooms in the house. They had been a trademark of sorts for Neville.

Mustafa had lost sight of that fact after their separation. And now, on this gloomy, rainy night, he was once again being reminded of something that he'd missed terribly.

"There..." Neville's voice interrupted Mustafa's reminiscing, and he sat back down on the couch — notably closer than he had before, Mustafa realized. "That should be good enough."

Mustafa stared at the small, dancing flames. "Y...Yeah, it's fine," he replied.

"Something bothering you?" Shit. Mustafa had made his mood just a little too obvious.

"No, not really," he fibbed.

"Are you sure?" Then, "Am I... Am I sitting to close to you, or...?"

"No!" Mustafa quickly assured. "No, that's not it. It's..." He considered lying again, but after pushing Neville into talking a few moments ago he felt he had no right to keep any secrets from him — not to mention that Neville might get the wrong idea again. It was best to tell the truth. "These candles remind me a lot of the times we used to hang out. You had them lit all the time."

Neville followed his gaze, also becoming entranced by the fire. "Ah... Yes, that's right. The cinnamon one was your favorite, wasn't it?"

"It was."

"I wish I still had one, but it burnt out a long time ago. I didn't think to buy another one, to be honest."

Because Neville associated that scent with him. That had to be the reason. Neville had no reason to get a candle of someone's favorite scent if that "someone" wasn't even around to appreciate it. "I..."

"Hmm?"

"I..." Mustafa swallowed. "I miss you. A lot."

Neville didn't say anything to that. Mustafa continued, "I miss seeing you backstage, and talking to you regularly, and watching you wrestle, and just... being with you. Those nights we spent together were so fun , and I looked forward to them. I loved watching dumbass movies with you, and eating way too many sweets, and... everything else. But all of it— it just stopped . Out of nowhere. And I really, really wish that it didn't.

"I... I know you and I are both busy these days in our own ways. And I know that maintaining a relationship with our packed schedules is gonna be tough. But... I'm willing to give it a try, if you are. You obviously don't have to do anything you don't want to do, and I'm more than okay with you deciding that this isn't something that you're interested in, but I wanted to at the very least let you know how I feel."

Satisfied with his rambling, Mustafa took a deep breath, leaning back into the couch. He folded his hands in his lap and waited anxiously for Neville to reply — if he ever did. He was still staring at the candles, his expression unreadable. Maybe Mustafa's sudden confession was a lot to take in at once. Especially since it came out of seemingly nowhere, and was prompted by candles of all things. Is he... okay?

But then, faintly, Neville at last said something. "...I'm the one that fucked everything up."

"What...?"

"I'm the one that stopped texting you. I should've done more to keep in touch with you."

"But it's not like I ever tried to start a conversation," Mustafa argued. "I stopped, too. I'm just as responsible for what happened. You can't only blame yourself."

"I know, but..." Neville chewed his lower lip. "But I care about you. I never stopped caring about you, not even when I was sorting out my contract. And I should've done a better job at showing it. Instead, I just..." He shrugged. "I just let our relationship die."

Mustafa debated it for a moment, but ultimately he decided to take a chance, and he reached over and took hold of Neville's hand. For the second time that evening, Neville did not shy away from the contact. "It doesn't have to stay dead if you don't want it to. We can... try again."

"I want to," Neville admitted. "But like you said, it's not going to be easy. We're always traveling, and we're on completely different work schedules, and..."

"We can make it work," Mustafa cut him off. "It'll take some getting used to, but I think we can do it."

"But what if everything happens all over again? What if... What if something comes up and we just stop talking again?"

"Do you want that to happen?"

"No, absolutely not."

"Then let's try our hardest not to let it happen. We don't have to text every single day or anything, but if we both try to send each other something every now and again, things could work out just fine."

Neville swallowed. "...You're really serious about this?"

"I am," Mustafa said, clearly. "I wasn't lying before when I said that I missed you, and everything that came along with you. I wanna give us one more chance, see where things go. And if you want to, then... I say we go for it. What do we got to lose?"

Neville, whose eyes had been glued to the flames, turned his head to meet Mustafa's gaze. The soft, orange glow from the candles illuminated his face. The light gave him a haunting, mesmerizing appearance. One that Mustafa couldn't look away from even if he'd wanted to.

He looked... amazing.

Mustafa couldn't help himself from slowly leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips.

It was soft at first. Mustafa wanted to provide Neville with ample time to pull away. It wasn't until he felt Neville gently reciprocating the kiss that he deepened it, a hand moving up to cup Neville's cheek. Mustafa's lips parted, and Neville's tongue slid into his mouth. The intimacy was almost dizzying. This was what he'd been waiting for. After all that debating about whether or not to make that phone call, this was what he'd wanted. What he'd missed so badly.

It had been over two years since their last kiss. Somehow, this one was the best of all.

If only Winston hadn't decided that that was when he'd choose to return to the living room.

All the two of them heard was another rumble of thunder and the sound of nails frantically clicking on the floor before the dog leapt onto the couch, where Neville had been sitting earlier. "Oh my God—" Neville gasped, putting a hand on his chest. "What the hell, Winston?!"

Surprised as he was, Mustafa couldn't help but laugh. "Hey, he came back! That's good, right?"

"Would've been good any other time..." Neville moped, but Mustafa putting an arm around his shoulders prompted him to smile, and a moment later he moved in for a second kiss. Just as good as the first one.

"...Hey," Neville breathed out against his lips. Between kisses, he continued, "Did you... ever end up getting a motel room...?"

Mustafa froze, eyes wide. In the excitement of being back together with Neville, he'd forgotten about the other date he'd be having that evening — the one with the backseat of his rental. "Uh..." He grinned sheepishly. "No, I did not."

Neville smirked. Mustafa's heart rate ticked up just a bit. "Would you like to stay with me tonight? We still have some... catching up to do, you know."

Mustafa's expression mirrored his. Suddenly, his sleeping in the backseat seemed a hell of a lot less likely. "You're right..."

"Is that a 'yes', then?"

"It is. But , I left my bags in the trunk. With my pajamas in them."

This statement caused Neville to chuckle, and he kissed Mustafa again, tugging on his lower lip with his teeth when he pulled back. "Hmm, Mustafa..."

"What?"

"I wasn't anticipating either one of us sleeping with clothes on tonight..."

#mustafa ali #pac #wwe fanfiction #aew fanfiction #long post #just in case the read more decides not to work #jess.txt

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sarasa-cat · 4 years

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Thinking about my fandom writing goals for 2021. Assuming the world doesn’t blow up any more than it already has:

1. Even the Littlest Monsters Cast Shadows Long and Tall - chaptered novel, ffvii, Vincent-centric, pre-canon (1960s-1970s), during Durge of Cerberus, and post-canon, Vincent/Lucrecia clusterfuck, Vincent/Yuffie ultra slow burn, everything hurts and nothing’s okay. (Start posting in 2021 but expect that it will bleed into 2022; also finish rewriting prequel first).

2. What He Wants - novella, DA2 (not my canon, started as a Kmeme prompt) - finish what I have as I have the almost the whole draft waiting after 6 or 7 years of hiatus. Cullen??Hawke disaster, tragedy with a leave it to the reader ending. (Doable with a couple of months of on and off effort)

3. A Histort of Lies - revision this ancient mess of novel chapters/bits/scenes as a series of short stories, old, revised, and new - DA2 Mari Hawke mistakenly believes she can fix things from the inside. She can’t. But she tries. And she fails. Cullen/mageHawke/Merrill. (This will be an on and off project for a while, probably well more than 2021)

4. Stars Like Little Fish - short story series. DA2 Violet Hawke vs The World. Blood mage Violet is a hot mess/Fenris. Dark fic. Messed up disaster Hawke rivals everyone, everything she touches breaks, and everything goes to hell in a hand basket. Technically Hawke/Everyone with Fenders side dish. (Throughout 2021 and potentially beyond, depending on interest)

5. Random grab-bag of other short stories from various Dragon Age games/novels, FFVII games and novels, maybe even FFXII... and archiving all of my old short fiction onto AO3. (Ongoing 2021 and beyond)

Edited to add:

6. Fenris side ques novella as interactive fiction

#Sarasa goals

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kewltie · 6 years

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i have been working on social media au on and off for a couple months now but uh regretfully it’s not very productive work??? just mainly editing and formatting some of the contents and adding and removing others bc i couldn’t decide or change my mind on some things so i didn’t make any real progress toward the end goal :S. it’s in a standstill and i dont know how to move it forward.

i took a couple of days off to think about it and why im in such a huge slump over it. i soon realized it’s me and not the fic. there a bunch of annoyingly complex things i have to juggle within the fic but im pretty sure i can grind my way through it and frustration is a great fuel for me lol. my main issue is myself bc of crippling self doubt and anxiety and how i can’t imagine finishing up this ch for some reason. it’s like i have some sort of mental block bc everytime seeing it done i get really anxious and scared and i immediately find reason to not work on it at this second.

like, im sooo incredibly grateful and humble by how the first chapter is received by the fandom!!! you guys have been so kind and encouraging to me and im so very thankful to each one of you but with such kindness i feel so much guilt and anxiety bc it’s almost half a year since it first posted and so many ppl tell me one of the biggest selling points of social media au is its unorthodox storytelling, formatting, and portrayal of fandom and i just dont know how i can top what i did for ch 1. like, how can i supposed live up to all your expectations??? i feel like i set myself up for failure and with such a long waiting period in b/t idk if im able to deliver ch 2 the way everyone kind of expect to be blown away by it also?????? i keeping thinking and worrying if ch2 will be good enough and honestly it was stressing me out and i didn’t want to work on it bc i was afraid it wasn’t going to be live up to the hype :(((.

i tend to overthink and worry myself until im a mess of anxiety and stress esp combine that with my doormat personality, i just dont know how to stop the urge to please everyone bc my eternal fear of disappointing people. esp knowing how well received ‘demolition boy’ was. it blew up unexpectedly and i never really intend it to get as big it did /o\. i lit wrote it in like 2-3 days w/o much of a thought and now it’s my most popular fic and it often get drawn in comparision to social media au and how l social media au is like a more well polished and deeper fic and that’s great but also OH GOD. i can’t do better than that!!!!!! ah, it sucks and i couldn’t just break that that kind of metal block so i avoided writing social media as much as possible. im terribly sorry for that!!!!!! i do want to work on it and see it to completion more than anything but i just got really scared by it and how ch2 might just be a huge fucking fail. so i just sat on it for a while and let my anxiety eat away at me.

it took me some time and some soul searching but i slowly worked through my brittle nerves and fear. i had to tell myself that it isn’t my job to make everyone happy but MYSELF. writing is always and will always be FOR ME. everyone else, while im grateful for the audience, is just a bonus. no matter how popular a fic get, no matter how many people like it, at the end of the day if a fic doesn’t make me happy writing it than there’s no point. i love social media, i love how it drives me up the fucking wall and make me want to pull my hair out every single time, and it’s soooooo incredibly frustrating but also rewarding as fuck when i pull back and see what i had completed. to me it’s great story and i want to not just tell it but show it to you guys and i just need to shut up that fucking NAGGING VOICE IN MY HEAD that tell me all the wrong things. so im trying and working through my fears; it’s slow but i’m getting to the point where i can open up my ao3 draft folder and look at it and know ‘yes, i can do this now’.

right now, off the bat w/ my knowledge of what still need to be done and how much whinging i have to do to get it there, i am like 30% confident i can pull off finishing social media au at the end of this month. the estimate is going to go up and down in the next couple of days as i work on it and hopefully one day it would say 100%.

my goal is to have it done either by end of march or beginning of april but hopefully end of march. i think it’s doable but then again i think everything doable up to the point where i actually have to sit down and punch it out /o\. beside my two bkdk fic fests projects, this is the only project i will be working on in the next couple of days (or weeks) so please be bare with me a lil more as i try to complete ch 2.

the next two-three-four(???) weeks is going to be v v v v tough for me bc i will scream, cry, and rage about quitting and never writing it again but im like 99% sure i won’t mean any of it lol /o\. if seeing me like pulling an allnighter to finish up ch1 was bad then the end of march is going to be a trial with every step. we’re doing this and it’s going to be end in tears BUT THE GOOD KIND (i think)!!!!!! tmr, i’m off so let’s GET TO IT!!!!!!

p.s. thank you for always putting up with me!!!!!! i know im incredibly flighty, emotionally compromised, and difficult as a writer to follow but your support and encouragement had helped put down some of my insecurities to rest and im forever grateful for that.

#idle rambling #writing status #fic: love meme / hate meme #ok im off to bed bc i have class in the morning ughhh #but after that it's social media au time #all the time #this week and next #ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh trying not to freak out #im disappointed that i couldn't finish photobook fic #but next time!!!!!!!!!!

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auroraphilealis · 6 years

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Too Tense to Be Undone (5/7)

Too Tense to Be Undone (5/7) | Dan’s never had an orgasm before. Despite being in a relationship with his ex-girlfriend for three years, he’s just never been able to finish. The doctor’s don’t know what’s wrong with him, so Dan’s mostly put it out of his mind. Until his gap year, when he starts talking with AmazingPhil, and accidentally admits that he’s never come before. Phil’s happy to help with more than just convincing Dan to post YouTube videos, if Dan will just give him the chance. | Phan | Explicit | Slight Friends with Benefits, Pining, Eventual Smut, Very Explicit Smut, Dirty Talk, Flirting, Getting Together, 2009, Skype | 6,992 Words This Chapter

You’ve probably noticed the chapter number change again. When I originally started this fic, I had 4 chapters outlined. When I first started posting, I had 3 written. @imnotinclinedtomaturity, my wonderful friend and beta… incidentally inspired an extra 2 chapters that were totally unexpected, and not suggested to me until after I started posted. Normally, I wait to finish a fic before I start posting, and then I come up with what I think is a doable posting schedule. I chose every other day for this fic in the beginning because I was convinced I was done with it. But now, as you can tell, the plan has gone completely out of the window.

Last night, editing chapter 5 turned it into an 18K chapter that I realized I was not going to be able to completely fix by today, thanks to just how many re-writes I did. This fic has come to mean SO MUCH to me, that I couldn’t just leave it as is and post anyway. So I decided to cut the chapter in half at actually really perfect spot, and then inform you guys of two things.

1. The fic is 7 chapters now, but I’m PRETTY SURE it’s going to end there

2. My posting schedule has gone completely out of the window and I can’t promise when the next chapter will be out. I CAN promise that the whole thing is written, and that by the end of the next two weeks, you will have the whole thing, but I don’t want to promise I day things will be posted to give myself wiggle room to give the fic exactly what it deserves in terms of editing.

Thank you guys so much for all of your continued support. The fic isn’t quite over yet, but I’m so certain you’ll be happy with how I’ve sent the whole thing up, and it’ll be worth it in the end!

(previous chapter) (ao3 link)

They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Dan had barely finished drying his hair when Phil returned from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, and interrupted what Dan was doing to lean in and kiss him. His body was pliant against Dan’s, soft and tender in that same way he’d been in the while they were bathing, as if Phil had just figured out how to be soft, and wanted to shower Dan in the attention.

Needless to say, it took a long while to straighten his hair, and an even longer time for him to get dressed. A few times, he nearly gave up on it, his cock growing more and more interested with every kiss, every touch, every caress of Phil’s hands against Dan’s skin. Somewhat to Dan’s disappointment, Phil seemed determined to make the rest of the day sweet, though, and every time Dan tried to make the kisses hotter, tried to draw Phil in, tried to get him to let Dan touch something other than his back and hips, or even to touch Dan more than just the careful grazing of his skin, Phil drew away with a soft little laugh, and smiled at Dan.

With plans to film a Q&A later that night together, Phil stripped his bedsheets and started them in the wash after he dried his hair as well, leaving Dan alone just long enough to finish straightening his hair. Dan got dressed while he was at it, pulling on a pair of trackies he’d brought, and a t-shirt of Phil’s. The fabric felt warm against Dan’s skin, a reminder that Dan could do this now, and that Phil was his. It made Dan feel like he belonged, and the smell of Phil on the clothing comforted him too.

By the time Dan wandered downstairs in search for Phil, Phil was already in the kitchen making breakfast.

Breakfast, of all things.

Dan had been expecting a bowl of cereal and some orange juice at most. He’d expected having to make his own breakfast, and sitting in Phil’s lounge with him while they ate in silence. He’d expected something more calm, maybe a bit flirty, but instead he was getting this, and Dan wanted to drown in the affection he felt for Phil just then.

The unmistakable scent of pancakes had already taken over the kitchen. Phil was humming a happy little tune, another surprise Dan hadn’t been expecting. He’d never seen Phil quite so… carefree. This Phil was a little closer to the AmazingPhil persona Dan had gotten used to - the quirky, funny guy who smiled constantly and made weird noises. For so long, now, Dan had almost exclusively seen the sexy, confident Phil. Which was attractive. There was no denying that.

But now, now he was getting the Phil that was amplified for his videos - the striped down version who was - raw and cute and human.

It was nice. It was sweet. It made Dan’s heart lodge in his throat, and left him feeling overwhelmed with love for the man that until just a few hours ago he hadn’t been sure he could have.

Dan watched Phil cook for a little while, stood in boxer shorts and a t-shirt, smiling a little with each sway of Phil’s hips. Dan couldn’t stay away for long, however, and he found himself moving towards Phil so that he could wrap his arms around his waist, and rest his head on Phil’s shoulder.

Just like when Dan had done this in the bathroom, Phil yelped in surprise and jumped a little, but settled into the touch far faster than before, like he was getting used to it, and Dan loved that. Dan loved that Phil was slowly becoming more and more comfortable with the more romantic, affectionate touches that Dan wanted to engage in for the rest of his life.

He knew Phil was far more comfortable with sex, but this? This was Dan’s forte. This, Dan was going to force Phil to get used to. Because he knew that Phil would like it, and he knew that Phil deserved it.

Phil had never been loved before. Dan hoped that he’d get to love him for the rest of his life.

“Smells good,” Dan murmured into Phil’s back. Phil hummed back, the sound soft, sweet. Dan could feel the low rumble against his lips. “Thanks for cooking.”

“Anything for you.”

The words, a repeat from last night, sounded so fucking sincere that Dan closed his eyes, momentarily overwhelmed, and hugged Phil tighter. Phil seemed to relax further into the touch, and went right back to humming happily, a little off tune, but cute all the same.

Dan grinned and pressed his cheek to Phil’s back. He didn’t let go of Phil until Phil was finished cooking. There was nowhere he’d rather be at this moment.

“Come ooon,” Phil whined playfully when he piled the last pancake onto the plate. “I’m famished! We can cuddle later, Bear!”

The promise was enough to convince Dan let Phil go, and help him to carry the hefty amount of pancakes from the stove, to the table.

Breakfast was… a scene. Phil served them on two plates, but he pushed them so close together that Dan was practically sat in Phil’s lap in order to eat. Not that he was complaining. There was golden syrup, butter, and some sugar, but for the most part, Dan was far more interested in kissing Phil than eating his breakfast.

It was up to Phil to doctor their pancakes. Dan kept giggling and leaning in to press their shoulders together, joking about how they’d both been idiots for the last few months, and how happy Dan was to be with Phil now. There were whispered I love you’s and soft little kisses, sticky with a combination of syrup and sugar, and it was good.

Dan fed Phil bites from his fork and jokingly stole them from Phil’s lips, golden syrup ended up on Phil’s thighs and thick on Dan’s cheek, where Phil leaned in and kissed it away. Their smiles were warm and heartfelt, and with every movement together, Dan felt his body spike with a feeling of such absolute and overwhelming affection that he wished he never had to leave Phil’s side.

“I wish I never had to go home,” Dan whispered as the thought occurred to him, nuzzling Phil’s nose with his own, eyes half closed.

“One day,” Phil whispered against Dan’s. “One day, we’ll get our own place together, and you’ll never have to leave.”

Phil kissed him then, lips gentle against Dan’s. It sent a flash of warmth through him, a warmth that settled in his core and reminded Dan of just how special Phil thought he was. The kiss felt like a promise, it felt like love. When Dan pulled away to find a blush on Phil’s cheeks, he was reminded of the fact that this wasn’t easy for Phil - none of this, probably. Not the feelings, not the affection, not the cuddling. Phil had never loved before. He’d told Dan.

And yet here he was.

Phil didn’t do romance. Or at least he hadn’t before. But when he spoke to Dan, and the way he kissed him, Dan knew that Phil felt for him just as much as Dan felt for Phil. So Dan might have to teach Phil how to do the whole romance thing. Okay. Fine. Dan didn’t mind. Already, Phil had gone above and beyond anything Dan had ever had before. While Dan’s relationship with his ex-girlfriend had been nice, it had been nothing like this.

Already, Phil was trying harder than Dan’s ex ever had. Although Dan had done all he could to make his girlfriend happy, and made every gesture he could to show it, his ex had so rarely done the same for him. Sometimes, Dan had thought her feelings were nothing more than words, which, well, was probably true if the end of their relationship was anything to go by.

Buthere Phil was, making Dan breakfast, and touching him like he was something precious. It was worth more than any words his ex had ever said to him.

Phil might not know how to do romance, but Dan thought he was doing pretty damn fine as it was, and that… meant everything to Dan.

As they continued to eat, Phil kept getting a little bit of sugar on the corner of his lips, and Dan would repeatedly reach up to swipe it away. Their gazes would catch at the movement, warm and impossibly intense, and Dan would find his heart racing in his chest like this was the first time they’d ever touched. He just couldn’t deal with the fact that all of this was real. The way Phil looked at Dan...it was something Dan had never seen before Phil.

It was a level of affection, attraction, adoration, that Dan had never felt before. Once, Phil reached up and stroked the pad of his thumbs against Dan’s cheek, eyes glowing and almost disbelieving, but everytime, they leaned in close, drawn together like magnets, and pressed their mouths together for a gentle kiss.

The draw was impossible to ignore. Their lips would brush, and tingle, coming together and pulling apart, motion becoming familiar as they did it again and again, Dan opening his mouth to let Phil in, and Phil kept taking, always but keeping the kiss slow and powerful. It sent shivers up Dan’s spine, and caused him to let out soft little moans that weren’t so much lust filled as they were sensuous.

Dan didn’t know how Phil was doing it, but Phil knew how to make Dan feel like this casual physical affection was enough. With his ex girlfriend… this had never happened. It was sex, or nothing. This level of intimacy…

Dan never wanted to let it go.

It took three hours to finish breakfast. Phil got up only once good naturedly to move his laundry over from the washer to the dryer, anxious and excited to film a video later on, but other than that he stayed by Dan’s side the entire time, joking and teasing him, their legs pressed tight together, and Dan constantly leaning into Phil’s space.

It was the best breakfast Dan had ever experienced. It was leagues different from the times he’d go out with his ex to cheap diners and ordered pancakes, far better than the awkward conversations and the menial complaints about school and classmates. Dan much preferred giggling with Phil and talking about anime over hushed whispers of the newest school drama that Dan had pretended to be interested in solely for his ex’s benefit.

Eventually, breakfast did end, though, cascading into lunch and turning into more of a full day meal rather than anything else. Between the two of them, they ate more pancakes than Dan wanted to admit to, but he figured they deserved it after everything they’d… been doing. Dan’s body was definitely all for it, only sated after he’d eaten half a stack all on his own, with Phil shoving a couple more bites into Dan’s mouth, just because.

After a quick clean up, they moved to the lounge, Phil pushing Dan down onto the sofa and insisting that he sit still while Phil went and found a movie for them to watch. Dan didn’t have it in him to argue, curling up on the sofa with his head resting on the armrest, mind a little fuzzy with a mix of happiness, a full stomach, and afternoon sleepiness. He let his eyes slip closed for a moment, smiling as the events of the day began to sink in properly.

Dan was just now realizing how lucky he was.

Phil Lester was his. And he was Phil Lester’s. Giggling a little, Dan snuggled down further into the sofa cushions, just trying to soak everything in. It seemed almost unbelievable that the decision to let Phil attempt to help Dan reach orgasm had evolved into this. The cuddles, the affection, the expressions of love, and the promise that one day, one day they’d live together. That Dan would never have to leave Phil’s side again… it was. Nothing short of a miracle. Dan didn’t know if he’d ever get used to the idea.

But he’d try, because this was something he never wanted to lose.

When Dan finally opened his eyes again, beginning to wonder where Phil was, he found Phil standing in the doorway, watching him. His expression was completely unreadable.

“What?” Dan asked, embarrassed. He forced himself to straighten up, thinking maybe he’d made Phil uncomfortable, but Phil quickly shook his head.

“Nothing, I… I just can’t believe you’re here.”

As Dan turned his gaze back to look up at Phil, a little surprised at the confession, Phil stepped forward, an uncertain look etched on his face. He was wearing a hesitant smile, and for a moment, Dan could see the part of Phil that Phil was desperately trying to hide; the one who didn’t know what he was doing, who wasn’t used to being in love, and who had absolutely no fucking clue how to show it.

All Dan could think was that Phil was doing just fine.

“Me either,” Dan admitted, trying to show Phil that Dan was just as vulnerable right now, just as happy and a little unsure. “But I’m glad I am.”

Phil laughed. The sound was a little breathless, just this side of shy, but it made his face light up and his eyes gleam with affection, and that was all that Dan really needed. He smiled as well, and stood, arms open, begging for Phil to come and hug him. Phil, who’d only just a moment ago seemed unsure, stepped forward without hesitation and walked to Dan’s side, instantly enveloping Dan in a hug.

His arms were warm. The way he held Dan was… tight. Like he never wanted to let go. He crushed his face into Dan’s hair and Dan’s head into his chest. Phil kissed Dan, just because he could. Dan felt his whole body light up, and, unable to help himself, kissed Phil harder still.

“Mm,” Dan hummed. Phil chuckled, the sound a vibration against Dan’s lips. Tilting his head a little to better catch Phil’s lips, Dan drew them into something a little bit more, something drawn out and perfect and, if Dan was being honest, a little arousing as well.

So, kissing Phil made Dan horny. That wasn’t all that new. Kissing had always been a sure fire way to get Dan’s body ready. But with Phil, Dan wasn’t embarrassed by the fact. Instead, he felt safe. While his ex used to make fun of him, even get annoyed if she wasn’t in the mood, Dan knew that Phil would never hurt him like that.

No, Phil didn’t say a word, not even a joking comment, about the way he could feel Dan’s hips undulating into Phil’s, arousal clear as it pressed alongside the seam of Phil’s jeans, and that put Dan at ease. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt free to just be. Dan was so used to having to hold back, to apologize for things that were just natural, or just him, but Phil… Phil just seemed to understand.

Even more, he was almost sure he felt a hint of Phil reciprocating.

Phil pulled away from the kisses before Dan was ready, nuzzling his nose against Dan’s. Before he could move out of Dan’s space, Dan reached down and took Phil’s belt loops between his fingers, and yanked the other man closer, pressing their lips messily together once more.

The kiss was… a bit more intense than the others. Dan hadn’t intended it, but it was hard not to get carried away when he was kissing Phil. And besides, Dan really wouldn’t mind going another round. Phil hadn’t exactly said no that morning, though he’d kept everything thus far a little more innocent… But Dan hoped that by showing Phil how much he wanted him, how much he craved him, that Phil would stop treating Dan like he was glass.

Using his purchase on Phil’s trousers, Dan drew their hips together and allowed himself to grind a little more insistently against Phil. He could feel that Phil was growing interested as well, which was a positive sign. Relaxing a little bit more into the kiss, Dan let Phil take control, not even minding too much when Phil slowed their kisses down.

He did, however, mind when Phil let them peter out into sweet little pecks, before ultimately pulling away.

Dan couldn’t deny that he was disappointed. A very large part of him wanted to jump Phil right then and there, and just… well, make the most of the short time alone they had together.

“I wanted to watch a movie with you,” Phil whined when Dan pouted at him, his eyes wide and pleading, despite the arousal Dan could see in them.

A movie? Really? Sure, it sounded nice, but it was nothing compared to the idea of Phil filling him up again, nothing compared to the idea of being pressed together so tight that Dan could pretend he and Phil were one person. Besides, could Phil really blame Dan for wanting to go another round when Dan had gone eighteen years without an orgasm?

Phil, however, seemed much more hesitant about the idea. As he took in Dan’s expression, he bit his lip, eyes searching. Dan did his best to look not only put out, but enticing. After a moment, Phil sighed, and leaned back in to Dan’s personal space.

Their foreheads touched, and Phil pinched his eyes shut, an expression that Dan hated to see on his face. Phil looked so torn, and Dan didn’t understand. The idea that he was causing that level of pain for Phil, though, was too much for him to take. Opening his mouth to speak, fully intent on placating Phil, reassuring him that it was fine and Dan didn’t mind if he didnt want to have sex right now, but Phil cut him off before he could.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Phil murmured, “It’s just that… I guess I’m just… It’s always been about sex for me, but it’s not this time. And I wanted...” he continued, trailing off as his cheeks blossomed with an embarrassed flush.

Dan’s eyes were wide, and he peered up at Phil, whose eyes only squeezed shut tighter as he frowned.

Fuck. Dan hadn’t meant to make it about sex. Cuddles were good too; in fact, Dan loved them. They were more than Dan ever could have asked for, especially considering there had been a time when Dan had thought sex was all he was going to get out of this - either a one night stand, or a friends with benefits deal that Dan wasn’t sure he would have been able to say no to. It was just… Dan was really enjoying the intimacy of sex with Phil.

Dan had never had an orgasm before, but the part that had always affected Dan the most wasn’t the lack of orgasm, but the inability to experience it with a partner, to share that pleasure together, and just… enjoy each other.

While sex had been nice, pleasant even, before, now it was just… really, really intimate.

But as the thoughts cascaded over Dan, something else nudged at his mind. Phil was 22, and he’d never been in love before. Phil was 22, and while Dan had gone 18 years without an orgasm, Phil had gone 22 without love. How had he gone so long without the physical intimacy that Dan craved so much, the physical intimacy that came from so much more than sex? Of course Phil didn’t want to have sex right now.

He was reveling in the feeling of blatant, romantic affection that he’d never had before, and Dan suddenly felt like the biggest ass in history.

“Phil, I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...it’s okay, if you don’t-”

“I just want to hold you for a little bit. Please,” Phil blurted out before Dan could finish his sentence. Inhaling sharply, Dan found himself staring at Phil’s closed eyelids in complete and utter stunned surprise.

Dan’s ex… had never really wanted to cuddle. Not like this. Not the way Phil wanted to. By the end of Dan’s relationship with his ex-girlfriend, they only ever really saw each other if they were at school, or sneaking off to have sex. Dates… dates had stopped not longer after Dan had admitted he’d loved her, and she’d seemed to realize that she didn’t have to try so hard anymore.

Something in Dan told him that it wouldn’t be the same with Phil.

As Dan stared at Phil, Phil’s eyes slipped open, and he stared at Dan with that deep blue gaze that was so uniquely Phil that Dan thought he was going to drown in his eyes Phil’s gaze was searching, so open… so desperate.

Dan’s tongue felt glued to the top of his mouth, and he was unable to respond.

Phil inhaled sharply, pressing his forehead harder against Dan’s, like he wanted nothing more than to be close to Dan, before speaking again.

“I’m never had something like this. I’ve never felt this way before. I just want… to wrap myself up in it, I guess,” Phil finished lamely, lips quirking up in a self-deprecating smile that was Dan’s signature, thank you very much.

Dan didn’t have the words to express what the words meant to him. He didn’t have the words to explain that he understood, and that he wanted that too, and that was just as good as sex, so… he leaned in and said what he couldn’t articulate out loud with a kiss instead.

Despite the slow burning desire in the pit of Dan’s stomach, and the slow burn of arousal that shot up his spine everytime he remembered last night, or god forbid that morning, Dan was overjoyed to hear Phl admit that he just wanted to cuddle, that he wanted to experience that kind of closeness with Dan without the need for sex and pleasure.

Phil was perfect. He was everything that Dan hadn’t realized he’d needed, everything that Dan hadn’t realized he was missing, and now that the words were out in the open and expressed in a way that only Phil could express them, Dan felt relieved. He hadn’t realized he’d needed to hear Phil say that until just that moment.

Sure, Phil had made it quite clear he enjoyed the cuddles from his actions alone that morning, but there had been a part of Dan afraid that in the end, everything would result back into sex and Dan would be caught up in this vicious cycle of just being what Phil was used to, rather than so much more. So to hear that Phil wanted both, that he wanted to experience so much more with Dan, and that he wanted to keep that ball rolling rather than giving in to their mutual lust all the time, that was… amazing.

Besides. The fact that Phil had said all of that aloud felt like a huge step to Dan. Phil came off as more of an actions kind of guy, so for him to be willing to verbally open up to Dan like this… well.

It was something special.

The very thought of it made Dan laugh into the kiss, giddy with happiness. Phil made a muffled sound of confused protest, and tried to keep kissing Dan, but the laughter kept bubbling up inside of Dan until he had to pull away from Phil.

Dan pressed a hand to his lips, and smiled up at Phil, only to find Phil smiling back at him.

“What was that for? Why are you laughing?” Phil asked, chuckling a little, eyes wide and confused.

Rather than answering, Dan leaned back in and pressed one more chaste kiss to Phil’s lips.

“I’m just happy,” Dan whispered, unable to stop the sudden influx of laughter, eyes crinkled up in affection. “I’m happy, and I just want to hold you too. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life curled up next to you.”

The words were cheesy, and yet Dan meant every word of them. He could feel his heart fluttering in his chest, a tiny sliver of it nervous and afraid that Phil would reject him for being so open and honest about his feelings, but the larger part of him aware that Phil would never, ever, make fun of Dan, and that Phil would never, ever reject him.

No. Today had proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt. Perhaps some would accuse Dan of being naive, but Dan… well, Dan thought he could trust Phil. After all, he’d put all of himself under Phil’s power last night, and Phil hadn’t taken advantage of him.

Phil’s eyes were glowing when he looked at Dan.

That was all the answer Dan really needed.

With one last sweet kiss, Phil pulled away from Dan in search for the DVD he’d dropped somewhere between the doorway and Dan. For his part, Dan curled back up on the sofa to wait, and laughed at the way Phil moved around his lounge with no clear cut idea of where the case had gone. Meanwhile, Dan could see it hiding under Phil’s coffee table, which kept him amused but unwilling to tell Phil where it was.

Flushed and frustrated, Phil eventually moved back over to Dan and kissed him playfully, shoving his fingers through Dan’s fringe and asking him “please tell me where it is?”

Unable to deny Phil anything when Phil’s hands, his lips, were on him, Dan gave in and pointed under the coffee table with little to no more resistance.

“Thank you,” Phil whispered, and kissed Dan again.

Dazed, Dan watched Phil lean over to retrieve the unreadable case, and move to put the movie in. At the movement, Dan found himself staring at Phil’s bum, and the soft curve of it pressed against his jeans. Dan licked his lips, and was unable to drag his gaze away again until Phil stood back up.

Trying to pull himself back together, Dan shook his head, hoping to rid himself of his blush and the warm feeling in his chest flirting with Phil brought him, Dan settled back down on the sofa and got settled so that he could cuddle with Phil.

Once the movie was in the DVD player, Phil grabbed the TV remote, and returned to Dan’s side. This time, he sat down on the sofa next to Dan, close enough that their thighs were touching, and lifted his arm to press along the back of the sofa, softly nudging Dan’s shoulders.

The feeling was casual, but affectionate, and made Dan warm all over. He had flashbacks to pulling the same move on his ex-girlfriend on their same date, but it was more awkward, more forced, more contrived. This, though… this was good. It was perfect.

Grinning, Dan dropped his head onto Phil’s shoulder, and allowed himself to sink into the giddy, warm feeling that was trying to take up residence in his bones.

“So what are we watching?” Dan asked, wanting to distract himself a little bit from the utterly overwhelming sensation working its way through him. Rather than answering, Phil hummed, and fiddled with the TV remote.

Dan watched, fascinated, as Phil fast forwarded through what looked like a bunch of DIsney adverts, before the title screen came up.

“Wall-E?” Dan asked, nearly vibrating in his seat.

“Obviously!” Phil teased, rolling his eyes. “You did say it was your favorite Disney film,” he explained, and dropped an easy kiss to the top of Dan’s head.

It really was, and Dan could remember mentioning that to Phil, he just hadn’t expected Phil to remember. It had been a kind of throw away comment, so the fact that Phil had held onto it, been interested enough in Dan to want to remember it, made Dan’s heart swell and the entire situation feel more real.

Dan couldn’t help wondering what else Phil remembered. He’d have to ask, sometime, try and dig into Phil’s secrets and embarrass him, all the while finding out just how enamoured Phil was with him. The thought was an exciting. Dan moved to settle more comfortably against Phil as Phil pressed play and the movie began.

Phil shifted his arm from its casual position on the back of the sofa, to Dan’s actual shoulders, and pulled Dan in closer.

Dan practically purred at the touch. He wanted to remain like this forever.

In a way, Dan got his wish. They stayed pressed together just like that for the majority of the movie, giggling together over cute scenes, and more than occasionally leaning for a sweet kiss that always magically turned into so much more.

They just couldn’t seem to stop making out. It was something about the newness of being together and the incredible sensation that kissing seemed to bring.

They didn’t take any further than that, though. Dan didn’t push it, even if a small part of him wanted to, and neither did Phil. Phil sometimes carded his fingers through Dan’s hair or massaged at his scalp, pressed a few kisses to the top of his head and his forehead, but never anything more than that, and Dan just kind of… basked in it all.

He couldn’t believe it was happening. Phil was a natural at the affectionate touches, but that didn’t surprise Dan all that much. Phil was a touchy feely kind of guy, so it made sense it would translate well outside of sex. Dan just… couldn’t believe he was here.

Twelve days ago he’d thought he was just going to get an orgasm out of all of this, and eight days ago he’d worried that Phil was just going to use him and throw him away, but now?

Now, Phil was holding onto Dan like he was something precious, and Dan was staring up at him in awe, because Phil had said I love you. Phil… was in love with him.

Dan was Phil’s first love.

And hopefully Phil’s last, too.

God, he hoped he didn’t fuck this up.

They were so caught up in each other that they almost missed the fact that the movie had finished. Dan might love Wall-E, might think it was the best Disney movie to date, but Phil was better. Phil would probably always be better - better than any movie - so Dan could hardly be blamed for focusing more of his attention on making out with Phil, joking with Phil, curling into Phil.

Still, it was kind of embarrassing to be jostled apart at the sound of the credits rolling, and both Dan and Phil jumped apart with a surprised laugh.

They popped in a second movie, this one a title that Dan didn’t recognize (not that he cared), and spent the entirety of that one making out, too. By the time dinner rolled around, Dan’s lips were numb, and his body a warm flush of arousal that he couldn’t quite shake.

Actually eating dinner, though, was another affair.

This time, Dan ended up sat actually in Phil’s lap while they ate a pizza Phil that had ordered in. They didn’t feed each other this time so much as they just kind of messed around, kissing and flicking each others’ noses on the sofa while they tried to eat. Phil made funny faces and crossed his eyes at Dan, giggling when it made Dan groan and shove him in the shoulder to get him to stop.

The TV was on but neither of them were much paying attention to it anymore, far more concerned with their own little conversation in the tiny bubble that was currently their entire world. There was the small trade of personal secrets, tiny memories that hurt more than either of them seemed willing to admit, as they sat together, just basking in each other’s presence. There was something more intimate about the lateness of the hour, the fact that they’d rolled straight over into 9 o'clock already, that brought out their inner thoughts, and allowed them both to open up to each other even more than they ever had in the past.

Dan was living for it. He was living for the gentle caresses of his lower back, the reassuring smiles, and the promises that Phil would fight every monster in Dan’s life - including his brain. They both knew Phil couldn’t fix Dan, couldn’t save him in every way, or take away the past or foresee the pains of the future, but the fact that Phil was ready to stand at Dan’s side and fight along side him was enough.

Dan did his best to promise Phil the same, but he wasn’t the linguistics major, and he found his ability to form words had dissolved into nothing more than promises that Dan would never leave Phil’s side.

They were promises that were true, but not beautiful enough to comprise how much Dan meant them.

It was a little dramatic, when neither of them knew what was going to come their way in the future. But right then, they needed the hope, and Dan would do his best to keep that promise.

Eventually, dinner did come to an end, however. They didn’t eat as much pizza as Phil had ordered, not as much as they’d had pancakes that morning, but they did demolish a good portion of it. They shoved the rest in Phil’s fridge for tomorrow morning - or, if Dan had hisway, a post sex 3am snack - and headed upstairs to do the collab Phil was very much so committed to filming with Dan while he was here.

The energy between them shifted as they both switched into a more productive, creative mode. Dan plopped down on Phil’s floor with a pencil and paper to start writing down questions to ask Phil and Phil collapsed on top of his bed, head hanging off backwards next to Dan’s shoulder as he started searching through the twitter hashtag they had set up earlier.

“Here’s a good one,” Phil said, and Dan started writing.

There were hundreds of questions, far more than Dan or Phil had really expected, many repeats from multiple sources, or different questions from the same handles. They did their best to keep things mixed up and not take ones only from one user and not limit the chances of others, but it was difficult to narrow the questions down. Eventually, Dan decided to take notes of a few questions that Phil and he both agreed might not actually end up in the video, but had the potential for funny answers - most notably, “Why do you always make cat whiskers on your face?”

“Have you ever done that before?” Dan asked, laughing hysterically at the way Phil had read it out with the most confused tone of voice Dan had ever heard. Phil let out a strange squeak, and shook his head, lips turning up as he started to laugh too.

“No?” he replied, rolling onto his side as the laughter became more hysterical. “I don’t know where that came from, but now I’m thinking we should draw some on our face for the video.”

Dan jotted the question down when he was able to get his laughter under control, and then dropped the pad of paper to the floor.

“Okay, that’s enough questions. Now come here for a minute,” Dan insisted, and climbed up onto the bed to kiss Phil. They ended up on their sides with Phil’s fingers stroking over the skin of Dan’s hip, and Dan’s hands bunched up in Phil’s shirt in order to drag him closer still. Dan felt starved for Phil’s touch, and he knew it was a little bit ridiculous - they’d spent all day touching, and Dan couldn’t handle a few moments away from Phil?

He just couldn’t help himself, moaning loudly against Phil’s lips when their kisses grew more heated, even deeper than they had been all day. That seemed to be the worst decision Dan could make, because Phil pulled away instantly afterwards, eyes shining with mirth.

“Daaaaaan,” Phil whined, playful. “Stop distracting me, we need to fiiiiiilm. If you behave yourself I’ll make it worth your while,” he added with a wink, grinning seductively even as he pulled away from Dan and left him cold and abandoned in the middle of the bed.

Dan groaned at the teasing, but rolled off the bed as well. He knew how much Phil wanted to film with him, and Dan was really excited too, he just… really liked kissing Phil.

“Fine. But you better give me the best orgasm ever or I won’t forgive you,” Dan complained reaching up to fix his hair in an attempt to make it look less like he’d just been making out with Phil.

Phil’s grin only seemed to widen at the words.

“Dan, I’m pretty sure I already have. Aren’t I the only person to ever successfully get you off? No one’s ever gonna can top that but me.”

Dan’s cheeks flushed red. He gaped at Phil, mortified that Phil would bring that up, and leaned over Phil’s bed to pick up a pillow.

“Shut up!” he moaned, chucking the soft object at Phil’s head as roughly as he could. He missed, and while Phil yelped and attempted to dodge the flying object, it went awry and landed on the bed. Dan groaned as Phil started to laugh, and shoved his face in his hands.

“I hate you,” Dan complained, even though he knew it wasn’t true. Despite the deep flush on his cheeks, Dan knew that he was irrevocably in love with Phil.

Strangely quietly, Phil rounded the bed and surprised Dan when he wrapped his arms around Dan’s shoulders, dragging him into a hug. Gently, Phil pressed a kiss to the top of Dan’s head, and despite the fact that he was still kind of laughing, said, “I’m sorry. I love you.”

Dan couldn’t stop the fact that the words, and the touch, made him smile.

“Love you, too,” Dan snarked back, rolling his eyes, but holding Phil tighter nonetheless.

The hug ended before Dan was necessarily ready. Phil’s arms retreated, and though he offered Dan another soft smile, Phil pulled away and pointed towards Dan’s luggage case.

“I think we both need to get suitably dressed if we’re going to film.”

Groaning, Dan stared down at the pajama bottoms he’d pulled on that morning, and regretfully started to peel them off his legs. He might as well look his best for a video he was going to appearin on Phil’s channel. Once Dan had stepped out of the pajama bottoms, he reached behind himself to pull his shirt over his head, only to hear Phil whine behind him.

Tugging the fabric all the way off, Dan turned to Phil with a quizzical look.

“You looked so hot in my shirt,” Phil bemoaned. Surprised, Dan stared for a moment, before a cocky grin lifted the corners of his lips.

Dan had failed pretty pretty spectacularly in the past two days of unraveling Phil properly, so to know that wearing Phil’s clothes got to Phil, Dan figured he’d do it again. As soon as possible. Tonight if he could.

With a wink, Dan promised Phil as much.

“Maybe I’ll wear your clothes more often then.”

Phil moaned again as Dan moved to his luggage bag, and started to shuffle through out for a more appropriate filming outfit. He rolled his eyes at Phil’s complaining, but Dan secretly loved the distressed sound, and the fact that Phil liked seeing Dan in his clothes. It felt like another level of intimacy that Dan was glad to have now. Before, he hadn’t been able to wear his ex-girlfriend’s clothes, and since they were so young, she never went beyond wearing Dan’s sweatshirts, and that… wasn’t quite the same.

With one last wistful sigh as Dan tugged a black shirt over his head, Phil got to working changing out of his shirt, though he was luckier than Dan and was only wearing a pair of boxers other than that. Dan sneaked a glance over his shoulder to see Phil stripping out of his shirt as well, and yanking on a pair of black jeans. A little sad that Phil was covering up all that wonderfully pale skin, Dan pulled his gaze away, and yanked out a pair of jeans for himself.

Once both boys were dressed, Dan retrieved Phil’s bedding and tasked himself with making the bed. While Dan straightened the covers, Phil set up his camera - something that made a combination of terror and excitement curl in Dan’s belly. He was about to film with Phil. ith AmazingPhil. Not only that, but Dan was getting a chance to see firsthand how Phil filmed.

Up until now, Dan had really only had his own frame of reference for how to go about filming, so to see Phil going through his own process was rewarding, comforting, and a learning experience. Phil’s method was much the same as Dan’s, proving that Dan was not quite as much out of his league as he’d originally thought he was.Even the things he didn’t know were somewhat stylistic or easy to learn.

Finally, Phil settled down on the floor next to Dan, handed Dan the paper where Dan had scrawled the quetisons, and set the camera to start recording. Dan’s heart launched into his throat, but he grinned instantly as the excitement started to properly flow through him.

This was it.

They were doing this.

Together.

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