#if there was ever a time to give me very specific smutty prompt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

andawaywego · 3 years

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If you’re still taking prompts, can I make a suggestion? Could you maybe write one about Jamie being busy starting up the leafling (or something) and Dani feels a little neglected so she buys something sexy to get Jamie’s attention.

so i actually had a few prompts for Dani buying lingerie. i guess we were all thinking it, huh? this kinda got away from me, but i hope you like it! smutty smut ahoy.

Valentine’s Day, Jamie is learning, is one of the most brutal holidays there is; at least, it is when you own a flower shop. Two years in and it’s a hard lesson. Tiring, even. Exhausting. The orders start pouring in starting about a week out and then it’s practically nonstop until the whole thing is over.

Last year, it felt like they got through it by the skin of their teeth. By the end of it, she and Dani had gotten so good at communicating a lot of information quickly—order sizes, specifics, pickup times—that they’ve almost become mind readers. At least when it comes to each other.

This became especially useful once they hit wedding season that same year and Jamie only realizes how much she’s come to rely on this anomaly once she’s without it.

On Valentine’s Day this year, Dani is sick and at their apartment resting and Jamie is forced to finish everything up on her own. It could be worse, she thinks, because the timing is at least a little less suffocating than it may have been if she’d had to send Dani home early the day before. The only business she’s really had all day were customers coming by to pick up their orders or last-minute love day stragglers coming in to buy whatever she had left.

It could be worse. Really it could.

By the time she closes things up, the whole shop sort of looks like someone took a large vacuum to it, sucking up just about all the plant life from the displays and walls. It looks sort of like a ghost town. Jamie briefly imagines a tumbleweed rolling by. Locks the door behind herself. Turns her feet towards home.

She worries as she walks, the complex where they live only a few blocks from the shop itself. Wonders if maybe she should stop somewhere and get some soup for Dani or something, and then remembers that it’s Valentine’s Day and decides to avoid going to a restaurant.

She can always come back out and brave the headache later. Right now, she’s mostly focused on getting home to check on her girlfriend.

The apartment is quiet when she steps inside. It isn’t as if she was expecting any different, but it still catches her off guard. Only the lamp by the sofa is clicked on, meaning that the rest of the space is shadowed in darkness. The radiators by the window hum and it’s a little too hot—buildings like this, she’s learned, don’t know the meaning of “happy medium.” They spend the summers fanning themselves like southern church ladies and the winter much the same. Fall is reserved for wearing too many layers as they wait for the building manager to decide to turn on the radiators.

She shrugs off her jacket and hangs it on the coat rack. Keeps her boots on for now even though Dani hates that in case she ends up having to go back out. Heads toward the hallway, toward the bedroom, where she assumes Dani must be resting. Walks slowly to keep the floorboard-squeaking to a minimum.

It isn’t until she passes by the bathroom that she hears it: the music drifting gently from the bedroom. A soft drum beat and a voice singing. She doesn’t immediately recognize the song, too busy wondering why Dani is listening to music while she rests. Gives up on tip-toeing and just hurries the rest of the way.

And then, well—

Hot and stuffy in the apartment from the radiators, sweating a bit in her shirt right at the small of her back, and a shiver still trembles through Jamie’s body when she steps into the bedroom, when she sees what’s waiting for her.

“Hey,” says Dani, perched at the bottom of the bed and smiling in that way Jamie knows she only does when she is very, very nervous.

“I thought you were sick,” says Jamie.

“I know. I’m sorry. I just wanted some time to set all of this up.”

All of this being the record she’s got playing from the stereo in the corner of the room, the candles she has lit on top of the television and on the table next to her side of the bed, and, most importantly, what she’s wearing.

Her makeup, her hair, decked out like every single fantasy Jamie’s ever had and never before let herself consider. Worst of all: she’s wearing lingerie. Purple lingerie. Purple lingerie that hardly leaves anything to the imagination. Jamie swallows so hard it hurts a little.

And she’s seen Dani naked before. Of course, she has. Plenty of times. She’s seen her in nice underwear that matched the bra she had on a handful of times, too. But this is different. Lovely on her or not, those things were still functional as undergarments. And this? This isn’t.

This is see-through lace and long, smooth legs. It’s ruffles and a short-sleeved silk robe that’s hanging off her shoulders just enough to make Jamie’s mouth water.

This isn’t functional. This was designed to cause the exact reaction that it has; this was designed to be taken off.

Dani rolls her shoulders back and flutters her eyelashes in a way that should be silly, but only succeeds in making Jamie’s blood race more thoroughly through her veins. “You’re staring,” she says, playing innocence so well that Jamie almost feels guilty about her inability to tear her eyes away.

Except Dani bought this at some point just for the sole purpose of sitting on their bed looking like that. She did that knowing full well that Jamie wouldn’t be able to keep from eyeing the curves and sways of her, the pale skin and soft lines of her jaw and neck. Wouldn’t be able to want anything more than to press Dani back into their mattress and cover every inch of her, lace and all, with her mouth, her tongue, her hands, and—

“Yeah,” she says. “I am.”

“Something the matter?” asks Dani, so utterly dedicated to this flirtatious act of naivete.

“No, I’m good. Perfect.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yep.” Jamie turns to glance at the record player as “All Out of Love” comes on. “Cheery song.”

Dani’s act falters. She blushes. “I didn’t know this was on here. It’s...new.”

Jamie frowns and walks over to the record player, reaching for the unfamiliar album sleeve. “Oh? What is it?”

She feels almost guilty for knocking Dani off her game, but she’s so desperately starved for context, for anything concrete to grasp onto so that she doesn’t just pounce, that she just waits for an answer. As it turns out, she doesn’t need one; the cover speaks for itself.

“Wait,” she says, looking it over. “Is this…?”

“You’re not allowed to laugh,” says Dani, pointing at her sternly.

Jamie smiles. “Not laughing. I just can’t believe you actually bought this.”

“The commercials were very convincing!”

“Did you actually call the place?” is her next question because she can’t imagine her girlfriend calling some commercial-boasted number to buy a four-record album named Secret Love just for this occasion. Jamie usually has to call and make her doctor’s appointments for her.

Dani blinks. “No,” she says. “I sent them a check.”

Jamie grins. Can’t help it. Loves Dani so very much at this moment. “Just one payment of $19.95?” she teases and it works: Dani smiles, too, looking less nervous by the second.

“It’s a good deal, you know,” she says.

“I never said it wasn’t.”

“You had a tone.”

“I did not have a tone.”

“Sure you did.”

Jamie isn’t actually sure how she’s managing to control herself anymore. That silk robe slipping off Dani’s shoulder looks so enticing; she wants to press her mouth to the skin it’s left uncovered. Wants other things, too—so many she can hardly decide where to start.

She sets the album back down and takes a few, slow steps towards her girlfriend. Still too far, but closer. “You went to all this trouble,” she says, “for me?”

Dani’s expression softens and she gets to her feet, moving closer. “Yeah, Jay. I did. We’ve just been...so busy lately, which is great! Don’t get me wrong! But...you’ve had so much on your plate and it’s stressful and I didn’t want us to...not get a Valentine’s Day. You know?”

Jamie isn’t sure what there is to say to that except for: “I love you.”

Another step forward and then Dani is grabbing her hands. “I love you, too,” she says, hypnotizing in this outfit, in this lighting, all the time. Her gaze sticks to the pale skin visible through the lace at Dani’s waist, so distracted that she hardly notices when she’s being turned around and pushed back toward the bed, gently guided by Dani’s hands on her shoulders to sit down on the mattress.

The mattress isn’t very tall, which means that, when Dani sinks to her knees, she’s only really a head shorter than Jamie. Her palms run up Jamie’s trouser-covered thighs, fingers curling around them a bit to guide them open a bit so that she can slide her body between them, get closer. Her body is fever-hot and Jamie has the sudden thought that she may not make it out of this surprise alive.

Dani has a knack for making her feel like she’s two seconds from a heart attack every time they’re intimate already. Now she’s wearing lingerie and looking at Jamie like that and Jamie doesn’t know where to put her hands, or where to settle her eyes.

The swell of Dani’s breasts is enticing, so she looks it over for a bit, and then there’s her freckled collarbones, the sleek and taut muscles of her neck. Her pink lips. Jamie feels hot, sweating in her clothes from the heat of the radiators.

Dani looks up at her, blue and brown eyes bright and eager beneath the flutter of her eyelashes. Normally, Jamie would be filling the air with mindless, nervous chatter, trying to calm herself down before the main event, but it feels different this time. The silence, save for the gentle croon of another sappy love song coming from the record player, seems sacred. She doesn’t want to break it for anything.

She curls her fingers in the ends of Dani’s hair, brushing it behind her shoulders, and then Dani is leaning up and she’s leaning down and they’re kissing. Dani’s hands fist the fabric of Jamie’s shirt right at her hips and Jamie cups her face and cranes her neck, and it’s too fucking hot. They should open a window. But Dani’s kisses are hungry and eager and there’s this knot of pain in Jamie’s chest because of it, so she doesn’t dare break away.

Instead, she lifts one of her hands and curves her fingers around Dani’s breast, pushing her palm against it to make the rough lace fabric brush against her nipple. Feels it poke up against her skin a bit and Dani’s answering moan vibrates her lips, flicking her tongue out to tickle the roof of Jamie’s mouth. Jamie scoots forward on the bed to be closer and lifts her other hand to do the same with Dani’s neglected breast.

“Jamie,” Dani pants as she rips her mouth away, eyes clenched shut, “this is supposed to be about you.”

Jamie smiles. “Trust me,” she says,“it is.”

Dani’s eyes open. “That’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean, then?”

A long look of consideration. Jamie momentarily stops her movements at Dani’s chest. And then Dani unbuttons her trousers and starts tugging at them, saying, “Get these off. That’s what I mean.”

Jamie takes them off. Her shirt, too. Drops each of them to the floor carelessly, too eager for the next part to worry about where they land. In all the rush, Dani begins to slip the silk robe from her shoulders, but Jamie stops her with a shake of her head.

Says, “Leave it on,” with the sort of breathlessness that makes Dani smile.

She leaves it on.

Jamie brushes her thumb against Dani’s nipple and then trails her fingers up the bony press of her sternum. Cups her jaw and cranes her neck down to kiss her, hot press of lips together and Dani gasping into her mouth.

Wanting to be closer in a way this particular position won’t allow, she breaks away from the kiss and guides Dani up by the shoulders until she is sliding her knees onto the mattress on either side of Jamie’s thighs, straddling her. She rolls her hips down and now Jamie can feel the fabric covering Dani’s body against her own skin. Fears she’ll go mad from desire before she can do anything about it.

It’s cooler in just her underwear, certainly, but that doesn’t mean the friction of their bodies together isn’t creating a fine layer of sweat between them. Their legs slide together and Jamie is so wet, so ready, that it’s beginning to hurt a little.

She kisses Dani’s neck and slides her lips up to the corner of her jaw, to her earlobe. She nibbles a little, then scrapes her teeth down to her neck again. Nips at her pulse point then smoothes it over with her tongue. Dani curses against her hair, breath a hot spread across Jamie’s scalp as she rolls her hips down.

A moment later, her hand is working its way inside Jamie’s panties, fingertips brushing against her clit very lightly and it’s Jamie’s turn to curse.

“Fuck.”

Dani smiles, kisses her forehead. “Doing okay?” she asks, that impersonation of complete chastity back in her voice, in her lips, the way her head tilts flirtatiously as Jamie meets her eyes.

“Doing great,” Jamie manages through gritted teeth. She is fighting back the urge to simply reach between them and push Dani’s hand against her harder. She drops her head and presses her lips against one of Dani’s nipples through the lace, mouthing at it hotly and making Dani sag against her, a little boneless, with a moan.

Payback, she thinks, is definitely a bitch.

She can be one, too.

She grips Dani’s hips in that tight, fierce way that Dani likes—thinks it must be at least a little painful, but maybe that’s why Dani likes it—and rolls up into her hand in a way that pushes the back of it between Dani’s own legs.

“Jay,” breathes Dani, and her expression is purposefully seductive, playful even as she is genuinely reacting to Jamie’s movements. She flutters her eyelashes with the best of them and she is the only woman Jamie’s ever been with that can make her go mad just by smiling at her. “Lie back.”

Jamie doesn’t understand the order at first, can’t wrap her head around it because Dani’s fingers are circling her clit now. It isn’t until that hand pulls away and Dani gets back, slowly, to her feet to give her room that she gets it. It feels like every part of her is positively vibrating as she uses her hands to slide back and back. Lowers herself to the mattress all the way and tilts her chin down so she can watch her girlfriend climb up her body in this ridiculously erotic and mind-numbing way.

“God, how are you not naked yet?” she asks, pressing her lips to Jamie’s breastbone, dipping down to tongue at the edge of her bra.

“How are you not fucking me yet?” Jamie returns, just to see Dani’s reaction—the way her cheeks go even pinker, the way she blinks in surprise at her sudden vulgarity.

She swallows thickly. “Patience is a virtue, you know.”

“Not when you look like that it’s not.”

Dani tugs the left cup of Jamie’s bra down and ducks her head to hide the way her expression changes, lips curling around Jamie’s nipple. Jamie can feel her smiling. “Like what?”

“You’re a tease, you know that? You’re such a bloody tease.”

Her mouth moves down to Jamie’s ribcage. “Would you like to lodge a formal complaint?” she asks.

Jamie curls her fingers into her girlfriend’s hair and cranes her neck to get a better look at her in that damned lingerie. “If you don’t touch me soon then yeah, I would.”

She feels the blunt edge of Dani’s teeth below her belly button, scraping down to the waistband of her panties. “Your request has been noted,” says Dani, her voice even and sort of mockingly robotic. “Please allow three to four business for—”

Jamie’s laugh cuts her off, fingers combing through her hair until Dani finally lifts her eyes to look at her again. “Dani, I love you,” she says.

“I love you, too.”

“But you have to do something, or I’m going to—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Dani catches the edge of Jamie’s panties between her teeth and begins to pull them down like that, laughing around the material as Jamie wiggles and shifts her hips, giggling like a maniac, to try and help. Eventually, hands are required to finish the job. Jamie isn’t actually sure what Dani was thinking.

Goofy, ridiculous Dani. She’s the only woman Jamie’s ever loved, the only woman she’s been able to laugh in bed with, and she went out and bought sexy lingerie, called a number from a commercial to get the proper mood music, sat here on their bed on Valentine’s Day to surprise her.

Jamie doesn’t understand her life, doesn’t understand how she could possibly ever deserve this.

Once her panties are all the way gone and Jamie is naked, save for her bra, Dani’s eyes linger between her legs, a loose smile fixed on those pretty lips. “There you are,” she says.

“There I am,” Jamie exhales, shakily. “Now—”

She should be expecting it, but she isn’t, and so Jamie makes the most embarrassing sound ever when Dani’s tongue first makes contact. An electric shock between her legs, a match being struck, and she arches a little too much off the bed, one of her arms going back so she can comb her fingers through her own hair. Slams her eyes shut to keep from coming almost immediately—this won’t be her only chance, she’s sure of it, but she wants this first one to last—and then has to look, so she opens them back up.

And Dani is always a sight between her legs like this, but she’s on her knees and bent down in a way that makes her breasts hang deliciously, bumping a bit as she licks and curls her lips around Jamie’s clit. Jamie brings her other hand down and brushes her hair out of the way, over her shoulder, so she can see her mouth work.

��Fucking fuck, Dani,” she says, so eloquent with a beautiful woman bobbing between her legs.

Dani hums in response and Jamie can’t help it, groans a little too loudly. That fucking silk robe and the contrast of purple lace to pale skin, blonde hair fisted in her hand, and then Dani brings one of her hands up and slips a finger inside and Jamie feels, very suddenly, like she is splitting apart at every seam that’s ever kept her together.

The sound of Dani fucking her like this is almost obscene. It’s slick and loud, the suction of her mouth audible as she alternates movements against Jamie’s clit. She’s smiling despite how busy her mouth is and then she slips a second finger in, then a third.

It’s so hot, sweat pearling on her chest and forehead. Her hair feels damp at the base of her skull, she feels sort of like she has a fever but everywhere, and fuck—

She nearly bites through her bottom lip as she comes, trying to keep quiet. Her pulse drums like waves on the shore as it whitewashes through her ears, her veins.

Dani pulls back, licking her lips clean sloppily and her eyes are so dark that Jamie feels like she's burning again in moments.

“Come here,” she croaks, propping herself up on her elbows. Hopes that Dani knows what she means.

She must, though, because she doesn’t come up on the side of the bed. Instead, she just straddles Jamie’s waist, giving Jamie a full and uninterrupted view of what she’s wearing again.

“God,” is the next thing she says. Then, “You know how to pick ’em, huh?” as she tugs a bit on the end of the robe.

Dani smiles, somehow shy despite everything else. “You like it then?” she asks, like she has no idea, like she didn’t just fuck Jamie stupid while wearing the sexiest thing to ever exist. “Successful Valentine’s Day?”

Jamie rolls her eyes affectionately. “And the award for Understatement of the Year goes to—”

Dani pushes at her shoulder, giggling. “Hey,” she says. “Give me a break. I stuck out like a sore thumb in the shop I got this from.”

“I doubt that.”

“No, really! Like, three shop girls came over to help me because I was so lost.” She looks so sincerely flustered by this that Jamie can’t help but be endeared by it. “They kept asking me what my ‘boyfriend’—” and she uses air quotes there, “—likes to see me in. What his favorite color is.”

Jamie laughs. “What did you say?”

“I told them I didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And what did they say to that?”

“They asked me what my husband likes then.”

Jamie nearly chokes on her tongue from laughing so hard. Almost knocks Dani to the floor, too.

And, yeah, it’s a pretty successful Valentine’s Day.

#damie #damie fic #damie prompt #dani x jamie #thobm #thobm fic #the haunting of bly manor #dani/jamie fanfic #dani/jamie #3k #smut #like #smutty smut

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imreallyloveleee · 2 years

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Hi!

I’ve been a huge fan of your writing for a while. I’m writing this anonymously because I prefer my privacy with this particular message.

I’m about to try writing fanfic for the very first time (the time when I briefly wrote for the show The Fosters at age 12 doesn’t count😂) but I am wondering if you have any tips for someone who is just starting out?

I consider myself to be a strong writer in general and have always had a vivid imagination, so being able to express feelings and bring a piece to life is what I do best. All that said, I have never been in a relationship before let alone ever even kissed anyone, which isn’t by choice, it’s by circumstance (technology ruining peoples social skills, hookup culture, anxiety, pandemic, transferring colleges tons of times etc.) so sometimes I feel self conscious about that. While I wish these things have happened for me already, there’s honestly so much more important things for me to be focusing on as our country falls to shit so I don’t worry about it as much anymore LOL.

But, do you think one can write a romance/smut/flirty story without having firsthand experience themselves? Many people may not be able to relate to me, and that’s okay, but should it mean I can’t try and write about that kind of stuff?

I’m nervous to try, but also feel like it could be very fun and rewarding. You’ve inspired me, among some other writers.

Thanks for your time❤️

Hi anon (and sorry it took me several days to answer this)!

First off, I'm excited for you that you're going to give writing a shot! It's a wonderful creative outlet and the world can always use more bh fics 🤗

To answer your question: yes, I absolutely think you can write content that is flirtatious, smutty, romantic, etc, without having firsthand experience to draw from. We all write about lots of things we've never experienced. I think the key to writing anything is just to approach the situation with empathy - how would this person react to xyz? My advice is to let it play out naturally from there. It's okay to have an endpoint to a conversation or scene in mind but I always try to let conversations flow in a natural direction rather than force them towards a specific outcome.

You might also want to start small, ie with some one shots or drabbles? There's no reason you couldn't start out with something longer, but since you mentioned you're a little nervous about it, it might help build some confidence. Looking at prompt lists can be good inspiration for that.

I hope this is helpful - can't wait to read your fic anon!! ❤️

#anon #fic

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tennessoui · 3 years

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#18 Prompt: Ohio in Pre-Slash,16/17 year old Anakin has had a crush on his Master for awhile but knows/thinks Obi-Wan would never return his feels. He's almost completely given up and is think about maybe finding a substitute outlet. Then Obi-Wan gets amnesia while they are stranded on an uninhibited planet. Their Locator Beacon only giving off a general area. Obi-Wans amnesia leaves out the Code, and that he's Anakins teacher so the Boy calls him Master so he MUST be Obi-Wans pet/slave.

ahh so i could easily see this going dubcon and smutty and if i were better i might have gone that way too but instead i made some pining fluff but i hope you still like it!!

18. Waking Up With Amnesia (Hurt!Obi-Wan, underage!pining!Anakin, misunderstandings)

Anakin does his level best to land the ship gently, he really does. But he can’t work miracles here, and the locals had damaged their hull quite effectively when they had shot at them as they descended from atmo.

Friendly negotiations, yeah right. When Anakin gets his hands on these guys, he’s gonna show them exactly how friendly Anakin can be. But first he has to make the landing. And then he has to make sure his master is okay. Failure on either of these fronts is not an option.

His master had just gotten up to go to the back to grab their identification. They had been talking, seriously for once and without anger or impatience laced through their words--he’d said he was proud to have him as his padawan, that Anakin had grown into a young man anyone would be fortunate to know.

Anakin had turned to watch his master leave, his shields raised high but his eyes stripped bare. He’d be eighteen in two months. Somehow he’d made it through most of his time as a Padawan already. With his impending adulthood comes the realization that he has no more time for words of anger or scorn, not directed to his master at least. In a few years at most, Obi-Wan would be free of him by all Jedi rules and obligations.

Now more than ever he has to convince his master to want to keep him around. It’s a grueling task, made more difficult by how terribly difficult Anakin had been in the last, say, nine years. What with his pod-racing, his temper, his pride, his stubbornness--his huge and achingly obvious hero worship turned crush on the older Jedi.

But he can’t lose Obi-Wan, can’t even stand the idea of his master leaving him. The idea of missions alone while his master cavorts around the galaxy without hm--with another Padawan?--is absolutely intolerable. No. He has to convince the Jedi to want him as more than a Padawan. To want him as a friend, as a partner.

(In his wildest fantasies, as more than that, too.)

But now, as if the Force has heard his thoughts and is punishing him, the ship is crashing and his master has been hurt somewhere behind him but he can’t check without losing control of the vessel completely. He just has to--land--on this wide stretch--of karking sand.

It’s not his best landing, but they’re on the ground at least. The first thing he does is, of course, throw off his own landing protector and rush to Obi-Wan’s side, pulling his body out of the mangled remains of their ship and into the light and heat of outside. His master is unconscious, but he doesn’t seem to be bleeding terribly nor fatally. Now, and only now, he thanks the Force.

That’s when he notices the startling wet and spreading red across his master’s usually pristine robes.

Never mind, he tells the Force, fumbling with Obi-Wan’s belt in a panic. He needs to treat the wound, which means he needs to see it, which means he needs to get these outer robes off, as well as his master’s inner tunic.

“If I’m ever undressing you again, I swear to the Force you better be cognizant,” he mutters to himself as he rips at the fabric of the thin undershirt. “So many layers and not one of them protects you from debris, how is that fair?” He continues as he pushes Obi-Wan to the side far enough so he can see the man’s bare shoulder and the cut itself. It doesn’t look deep, at least, but it is long, spanning at least Anakin’s entire hand.

How much bacta do they have? Is their distress beacon working? Does Anakin want it to be working? Half of him thinks no, because what if the locals show up to finish them off? Half of him thinks yes, because he’d love to get his hands on the creatures responsible for Obi-Wan’s current state now.

It’s a very un-Jedi thought, but Anakin can’t even feel bad for it. He goes back into the wreckage of their ship--and he knows already he’s going to hear about this from the Council, as if anyone else could have done better--and grabs their first aid kit.

There’s bandages and bacta and that’s the important thing, he reminds himself. He’ll fix up the wound and then worry about why Obi-Wan hasn’t woken up yet.

But. Well. There’s not a great way to patch it up. The only thing he can think of is to give Obi-Wan’s form a solid thing to lean his head against while keeping his lower back pressed against the durasteel. It’s an awkward angle, but any other would result in Obi-Wan getting a face full of sand, and Anakin wouldn’t do that to his worst enemy, let alone his master.

Look. There’s no delicate way to put it. He straddles his lap and brings his head so it can rest on his chest as he works.

Of course this is when Obi-Wan begins to stir. Anakin tightens his hold on him and tries to send feelings of relief and calm through the Force. He needs Obi-Wan to not startle away from him until he finishes putting on the bacta. They can be embarrassed about this later. They’ll laugh about this later.

“You’re fine, Master,” Anakin murmurs at what he decides to take as a garbled word of confusion. “I crashed the ship, you can punish me later.”

Anakin can feel Obi-Wan’s signature spike around him, but he’s too intent on his task to figure out what specifically his master is feeling.

“What--” Obi-Wan mumbles, hand coming up to brace his head.

Anakin leans back as he finishes, tapping gently on Obi-Wan’s cheek until the man lifts his eyes to look at him. They’re dazed and confused.

“Master?” Anakin asks.

Obi-Wan’s brow furrows. “Master?”

Now Anakin’s getting very worried. “How many fingers am I holding up?” he demands.

Obi-Wan blinks. “You’re...not holding up any fingers,” he says, words becoming clearer the longer he talks. “I’m sorry

“Master,” he says slowly. “How are you feeling?” “Confused,” Obi-Wan says. “And...worried. And sick. Why are you calling me that?” “Calling you what, Master?”

“That. Master,” Obi-Wan looks sick just saying the word. Anakin scrambles up off his lap and kneels in the sand in front of him.

Panic clogs at his throat, making it even harder to force words out. “This isn’t a funny joke, Master.”

Now Obi-Wan looks distressed. “I’m not joking!” He looks wildly around and then clutches at his head in pain. “I don’t know who you are. Who I am. And I need you to stop calling me master because it’s making me feel sick to my stomach knowing that apparently I’m the kind of person who owns slaves because I know it’s wrong.”

Anakin blinks. It’s a lot to process. “You don’t remember?” is the first thing he says. He wants to say anything or anyone or perhaps the Jedi Order you’ve been a part of since you were a baby, but instead what comes out is, “Me?”

“I don’t remember myself, how am I supposed to remember you? Did you expect me to?”

Anakin stays quiet because well. Yeah. He hadn’t thought anything could really truly make his master forget him. Not time, not distance, not anything. Looking at Obi-Wan looking at him now without any sort of familiarity feels like all of his worst nightmares coming true.

His master glances down at his half-dressed state and then back to Anakin suspiciously.

It’s a harsh expression without the fond exasperation that usually hovers in the back of Obi-Wan’s eyes when he sees Anakin.

“What were you doing?” Obi-Wan asks him. “Why were you...touching me?”

“Nothing!” Anakin yelps, knowing that is the worst response he could have given. “I mean. I was tending to you, Master.”

He winces as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Ah, kark.

“Don’t call me that,” Obi-Wan snaps, looking furious. Anakin wants to explain that he can’t not, that Master is as much as Obi-Wan’s name to him as Padawan is Anakin’s. “You mean to say I’m such a terrible person that I don’t just own a slave but a pleasure slave?”

Anakin thinks he must be blushing to the roots of his hair. “No!” he yells, much louder than he intends. “No, you don’t own me, M--Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan mouths his name as if it’s a new word. Anakin is about to break into hysterical laughter.

“I’m your apprentice,” Anakin forges ahead. “We use Master as a term of respect for our teachers.” He adds, “I was tending to your wound,” just so Obi-Wan doesn’t next think that Anakin was trying to take advantage of him or something. There’s only so many misconceptions he can deal with in one sitting, especially with the amount of panic that’s raging through his brain.

Obi-Wan looks achingly hopeful. Anakin supposes that without the memory of years of emotional suppression training, he’ll be able to see what his master is feeling more easily. He wonders if he could get Obi-Wan to laugh or smile. He’d kill for one unbridled grin from the other man, although there’s nothing joyful about the situation they’re in right now.

“You’re the best man I know, Obi-Wan,” Anakin tells him softly. “I know you don’t remember right now, but I promise you’d never do that to someone. You’re good. And honest and brave and kind and…” he trails off and looks away, crossing his arms over his chest as he’s hit with the reminder of everything he stands to lose if Obi-Wan’s memory loss can’t be undone. “We’ll get this fixed. It’s just temporary. I won’t let it be permanent.” He says the last part fiercely and mostly to himself. “I won’t.”

Obi-Wan smiles, just slightly and reaches out a hand. Perhaps his need to comfort a distressed Anakin is simply instinctive. “I believe you,” he whispers back. “I trust you.”

Anakin beams. And then he thinks of something else. For a second, he wonders about whether or not he should ask the question that’s burning up his mind, but he needs to know now that he’s asked himself. “Ma--Obi-Wan, why did you think that I was. Um. A pleasure slave?”

Obi-Wan’s blush is a thing of wonder. It could single-handedly keep them both warm on Hoth itself.

“Because of how we were positioned when we woke up,” Obi-Wan mumbles, burying his face in his hands. “And because you look like that.” The last part is said from behind his fingers.

Some sort of unfamiliar fire lights itself in Anakin’s stomach. “I look like what?” he prompts, barely daring to breathe.

But this Obi-Wan must not remember why he shouldn’t always be straightforward with the truth, especially to Anakin who he’s said he trusts.

(Obi-Wan trusts him!)

“Beautiful,” Obi-Wan says, so hushed and embarrassed that Anakin almost can’t hear it over the sound of his heart beating.

Inappropriately for their current situation, Anakin wants to crow in victory as the flame inside him grows larger.

Obi-Wan trusts him. At least on some level. Instinctively. And a part of him, stripped of his Jedi code and teachings and lifestyle, thinks that Anakin is beautiful.

He puts a name to the burning in his chest. It’s hope.

#ah no not rereading this to even in proofread #its nap time #asks #my fics #obikin #(preslash obikin)#prompt fill

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generallybarzy · 3 years

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THE 1.3K CELEBRATION!

Wow!!! Less than a month since I hit 1.2k and we're already up 100 followers! So, I have to say all this again. I'm literally so so so grateful for all my followers and ESPECIALLY the ones who send asks and reblog my posts and interact, you guys are the best 💕💕. I literally never thought I would get to this many followers on a dumb blog I made just to share my little stories about hockey. But here we are.

This time around, I'm gonna have a whole week scheduled out, with each night a different theme. You can send asks about each night in advance but I'll answer them on the specific night!

C E L L Y N I G H T S (AUGUST 03--10)

💤 sleepover night (08/03): let's just chat about some stuff, fashion, makeup, our crushes, our jobs, school, even hockey if you want to! We can also do little also games like FMK (fuck, marry, kiss, but you can chose the three options), make me chose between two players, stuff like that!!

🤔 headcanon night (08/04): send me hcs you have about players! I'll add commentary to them or even give my own at times, but you run the show! Fluffy, smutty, or just general! Anything you want!

😍 appreciation night (08/05): tell me about your favorite players! Doesn't matter if I know them or not! I wanna spread some appreciation!

🥰 appreciation night pt. 2!!! (08/06): send asks about your favorite blogs and write them a cute lil message and I'll tag them! Let's share some love!

🫂comfort night (08/07): send me a line from this list and I'll write a comfort blurb for you. You can also specify a specific topic the blurb can relate to. Dont send anything too triggering, just some light angst that has someone comforting you, but I'll tag all these with TW to be safe

“I promise, no one will ever hurt you again.”

"Do you wanna talk about it?”

“You’re not going to lose me. Ever.”

"I know it hurts, baby."

"Listen to my heart, okay?"

"You want me to tell you a story?"

"We'll get through this one."

"Is it too bright in here?"

+ might add more on that night!

👀 sneak peak night (08/08): I'll post an updated list of all my wips and you can ask me about any of them, including long passages from each!

✨ moodboard/header night (08/09): send me a player and a theme and color scheme if you'd like and I'll make you a cute mood board or header image (for your blog or a fic! You can also tell me if you'd like it the normal squares format or something funkier

🥵 smut night (08/10): send me one of the blurb prompts from this list and I'll write a lil steamy thing!!! You can give as little or as much detail as you want in the request!

"Babe, it's the middle of the night."

"We shouldn't, not here!"

"Louder."

"I'll guide you."

"Just focus on me."

"Don't test me."

"You look good enough to eat. In fact..."

"You're not wearing anything under that, are you?"

+ might add more on that night!

Once again, thank you all so much for hanging in there with me and actually sticking along for this mess. I saved these celly nights until after my very last day of work so I can focus solely on finishing asks on those days! I'll post more in depth "rules" on each night. Feel free to start sending things, but make sure to label your asks with the enoji or date for whatever night you're sending it in for, just for my sanity, thank you!!!!

🌸🌷🌺🌹🌻⚘I LOVE YOU ALL⚘🌻🌹🌺🌷🌸

Going through my mentions and tagging people who've tagged me in appreciation stuff in the past cause idk who considers themselves my friends anymore but ily all anyway: @fallinallincurls @dembenchboys @josthours @joekellys @yeahisupporttheleafs @probablygraves27 @bb-nhlqueen7 @matbaerzal @andreburakozy

#nhl #mat barzal #op #just tagging so some of the people who just stumble onto my blog every now and then see too!

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domesticated-feral · 3 years

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Thank you @nacreousgore for tagging me, oh boy was this fun to do!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 52 works on AO3 as of writing this.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

Since it's been a year that I've been writing on ao3, I've amassed a total word count of 149,243 words.

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Only 2 so far. I used to write Twenty One Pilots bandom fics before and now I just write Teen Wolf fics.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

So, I have 4 Sterek fics and one Stackson fic in my top 5; they are:

Yellow for Happiness and Purple, Because of Stiles (YFHAPBOS) - a good old falling in love Sterek fic with blind!Stiles and synesthete!Derek

Intoxicating - Stackson oneshot which has smut and possible interpretively werewolf!Stiles

Lunch with Sticky Note Compliments - Sterek in an office AU. It's literally what it says on the box.

Happiness in Your Arms - an abandoned WIP that's for some reason still on my AO3. It's sterek and takes place in the early 1910's. (I do not recommend reading this fic of mine..)

Sterek One Shot #2 - the second tw fic that I ever wrote on ao3. Didn't even bother to give it a title cause I didn't know what to title it...hah. it's also the last first person pov fic that I wrote until I transitioned to mainly writing third and second person povs.

5. What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

No doubt it's You Wish I Was Yours (And I Know That You're Mine) because of the overall dead dove: do not eat essence of the oneshot. After all, it's Void Stiles/Kanima-Werewolf Jackson who's under Void's manipulation.

6. What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

So, I have two contenders imo for this. Yellow for Happiness is one because the ending is cute, and the overall fic mood is happy if you average it out. Then there's To Fall For Him, which I recently wrote and the ending ends on a really happy note compared to the rest of the fic so the steady incline in fic mood makes it have one of the happiest endings. Although, most of my fics (expect for that void/kanima Jax fic) have happy endings. I'm all for leaving a fic on a bittersweet/good note y'know.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest one you've ever written?

I have yet to write a crossover, but I weirdly enough have a Five Nights At Freddy's x Teen Wolf crossover planned out in my Google docs. Don't know if it's ever going to see the light of ao3 or the internet.

8. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Since I started writing smut only recently, I have been experimenting with many different types of smut, mix and matching a lot of things. Most of them are made with love so ig it's the loving kind of smut, excluding that one void/kanima Jax fic (again).

9. Do you respond to comments, why, or why not?

I def respond to each and every one of the comments I receive. It's not much since I'm only a rookie fic writer but every single comment lights up my day whenever I get them and I hope my response lights up their day too :D

10. Have you received hate on a fic?

Nope, so far I haven't gotten any hate on any of my fics and hopefully that sticks for a long time.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

To my knowledge, nope.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. Not yet.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Unless talking to my sister about fic ideas and about how the story is playing out and ranting about plot holes to her is co-writing a fic, then no.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

My otps change periodically and I multi-ship like crazy so I don't have an 'all-time' favourite. But atm, the most mind-space-taking ships are Stackson, Scerek, Scydia, Stalia and Sciles. Sceo and Sterek sometimes show up.

15. What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

One day, I aspire to have less than a 100 wips, but there's just a few select ones that I am not going to touch on ever again. Either out of sheer confusion of what the story is about or because I do not want to continue on them anymore. They are titled in my Google docs as;

• It's a Jacksciles fic now

• Smutty Sterek pls send help

• Look, when i find an angsty dialogue prompt and song (especially if it's by Panic! At The Disco) you know im defaulting to Stackson Second Person Smut + Angst mode in a heartbeat

• yeah, i have a specific trope i wish to write.

These are just some of them that either I rewrite completely or just not touch ever again.

16. What are your writing strengths?

The ability to write a lot in the spur of the moment. I can easily get into a writing mood if I'm not in a writing rut.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

The ability to write only in the spur of the moment. My motivation comes in either 5 hour feasts or 30 minute scraps. (easily burn-out able)

18. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

It is cool, and I'd love to give it a try. Sometimes I deeply want to include my native language in the fics that I write, but the thing is that it's not known widely across the Earth.

19. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The Twenty One Pilots bandom!

20. What's your favourite fic you've written?

I cannot choose one from all my word vomit creations, but I had a lot of fun writing these.

Cinnamon Rolls & Intimate Control - Stackson smut with the added bonus of Stiles making Cinnamon Rolls.

My Heart Races Whenever I Look At You - Sceo, Street Racing Au, so very cute

The fics that I have so far written for the Finding Your Soulmate: Werewolf Edition series - Scerek for now, the fics have been a delight to write and so far, the story is just getting started.

And a honourable mention, Perceptions of Perfection - SCACKSON, what more should I say?

Tagging: @scilessweetheart @shyawkwardwriter @nutellarghh @sequinedmonkey

#tag games #heh you could say that this was a self-promo for my fics #anyways this was so hecking fun!!!

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wonderlustlucas · 5 years

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four - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt They say good things come in fours. Who? Couldn’t tell you, but they especially do during Christmas. Maybe that’s just Saint Nick. ⇢ pairing hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 11.7k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings swearing. mentions of alcohol & s e x. teenagerz being teenagerz. insane amount of fluff & stupidity. kind of ends w a smutty cliffhanger. ⇢ summary After suppressing how you felt about Hyunjin back in high school, you thought you were done going back on your feelings. Turns out, a little time apart, the spirit of Christmas, and an accidental nap is the perfect cocktail for falling in love with your best friend.—friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n hello & merry christmas! here is a gift for you all on this very merry day. also, thank you for 1,000 followers! that in itself is one of the best presents i could ask for. thank you for all your kindness & support on my blog & for following me in the first place! it truly means so much to me. i hope you enjoy reading! ♥︎

big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇[now] Sorry! I just woke up

big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇[now] Whats wrong fool

big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇[now] Did u rlly think 12 texts were gonna wake me up?🤦🏻‍♂️ godt damn u on some WACK shit

You roll your eyes in time with each consecutive text that Hyunjin sends, waiting for the lock screen of your phone to blacken after reading them. He’s about as useless as pedals on a wheelchair, you think, ignoring the texts and forcing the device into the snug back pocket of your jeans before transferring the last two excessively packed grocery bags into the trunk of your car with an exhausted huff. Christ, if the bagging lady put one more item in those bags, she would be the one to blame for six cans of soup rolling about the parking lot.

The license plate rattles when you slam the trunk lid closed before hurrying around to the driver’s side and anxiously hopping inside to start blasting the heat. It is obnoxiously chilly for the first of September. Well, not really. Your body is just beginning to get used to the ungodly wrath of summer’s sweltering heat leaving you in a constant state of sweat and nausea for the past three months. Not that you’re complaining, of course. You nearly did somersaults of joy when the morning news reported a temperature of sixty-one degrees with some wind gusts and welcomed the beginning signs of autumn with open arms.

You would never admit to Mom who told yo uon the way out to change out of a tank top or at least wear a jacket, but yes— you are, in fact, cold. But now you have godsent warmth blowing from the vents and the seat warmer on its highest setting beginning to thaw away the goosebumps painted on your skin. Giving your arms one last rub, you lean up enough to retrieve your phone and open the conversation with Hyunjin.

[2:37 PM] YN: please. smell my balls

[2:37 PM] YN: nothings wrong btw. i was GOING to ask if u wanted any specific snacks for tn buttttt someone didn’t answer

[2:37 PM] YN: and excuse u i called too. i may be an idiot but im not stupid

[2:38 PM] YN: ik u would never hear a text when ur having wet dreams of yeji

You stop there with a smug smirk when the three dots on his side appear, knowing you’ve hit his funny bone with this one.

[2:38 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: Bruh

[2:38 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇 :I’ve literally never have had a wet dream ab Yeji pls stop

You cannot fight your shit-eating grin, thumbs circling over the keyboard in thought as he apparently deletes whatever other text he was going to send when the three dots disappear.

[2:38 PM] YN: mmhmmmm

[2:38 PM] YN: because last time you slept over you weren’t whimpering her name in ur sleep

[2:38 PM] YN: sureeeee

You decide to end your teasing there and continue once you’re home. It is starting to get late, after all, and Mom will begin to worry that the creepy employee always in aisle sixteen has abducted you. Plus, you’re cruel and like to watch Hyunjin suffer. Switching the ringer off, you throw your phone into the cupholder and drastically lower the heat and turn off the seat warmer. It’s starting to feel like a sauna in here, and not in a fun way. Can’t understand how anyone enjoys hanging out in a sauna to begin with anyway, but to each their own, you guess.

In the five-minute drive it takes until you are pulling into the driveway, Hyunjin calls three times. He is incredibly peeved at your lack of a response to his distressed texts and still wound up from your text about Yeji. As if! You’re already a clown not realizing his ever-growing affections for you, but to think he had a crush on Yeji? You’re the whole damn circus!

By the time he calls a fifth time, now sat up on his elbow in bed and strumming an annoyed beat of his fingers at his thigh because he really just wants to yell at you for being the most annoying person alive (and maybe to hear your voice, too), you have brought in the last of the bags and look to Mom who has started to put the groceries away and expects you to half-heartedly do the same.

“It’s Hyunjin. He’s having an existential crisis because I haven’t answered his texts,” you explain to her, unenthusiastically holding your phone as it vibrates against your palm. Half of you wants her to ask to finish putting everything away first just so you can torture him even longer. Alas, such extravagant wishes are denied, because when it comes to Hyunjin, your parents would undoubtedly throw you under the bus just to keep that boy happy. And so, just like any other time, Mom’s undying love for Hyunjin has her dismissing you from the kitchen with a hearty laugh.

“Jesus Christ! What?” You hiss, halfway up the stairs when you tap to answer his call on the last ring.

“Wow! Look who finally decided to answer!” Hyunjin shouts back, the swoosh of his sheets once he finally falls back against his pillow again rustling all too loudly through the phone. “I was driving,” you spit, marching into your bedroom and collapsing against your bed, the same rustle of your blankets sounding loudly into his ear. “There’s a thing called the speaker, ___. Ever heard of it?” He retorts, evidently shutting you up and he knows he won this round if your silence is anything to go by.

“Whatever,” you groan, using all your toe strength to kick the sneakers off your feet by their soles, “what was so important that you couldn’t wait and had to call me five billion times?”

“I had a question. And you hurt my feelings.” Well, shit. You can practically hear and see his pout through the phone and your heart positively swells in your chest at how undeniably, unjustifiably cute he is. You sigh.

“I’m sorry for making fun of you about Yeji. I’m going to do it again but next time I promise I won’t pull the wet dream card,” you apologize frankly; because, in all honesty, it would be worse to say you are not going to do it again when you most certainly will. Bullying Hyunjin is fun, what can you say?

Hyunjin heaves an exasperated breath from his lungs because he knows there is no point in arguing with quite possibly the most sarcastic human he knows and that’s the best form of an apology he’s going to get. Whatever. He’ll make sure to wipe his morning snot and droll on your shirt in the morning. “Anyway,” he grumbles, in the background you hear Kkami bark from a few rooms over, “I was going to ask if you wanted to come over my place instead? I know your parents probably want to see me and stuff but mine are out of town for the night so we can sleep in my bed until like three without Mom waking us up to force feed breakfast.” You roll your eyes. Of course your parents want to see him.

“Plus, Mom just put that grey comforter I know you really like on my bed so we can cuddle all night and watch stuff on YouTube,” he quickly adds as a convincing afterthought. He’s really got his sales pitch going on this one. Truth is, you have only slept in his bed with that stupidly soft blanket twice last winter break, but it’s still sweet that he remembers how much you loved it (aka how quickly you fell asleep and how grumpy you were being woken up because it’s just that darn cozy). Either way, you would never pass up an opportunity to snuggle up with Hyunjin in the comfort of his own bed with his citrusy, floral scent on the pillows luring you to sleep.

“My Mom is going to be heartbroken, Hyunjin,” you tease, “but who cares. You had me sold at sleeping until three. Do you still want me to bring the snacks I got?”

“Oh, thank God. I love your Mom’s cooking but I haven’t left bed all day and I really want to keep it that way. And yes, please. I’ve been eating dry cereal for the past two hours.”

“Hyunjin, have you brushed your teeth yet?”

“No. Didn’t you just hear me? I said I’ve been in bed all day. Eating cereal. When would I have brushed my teeth?”

“You’ve officially taken breakfast in bed to a whole new level, Jin. I’ll see you in a few hours. Oh, and please, you have no concept of personal space so make sure you brush your teeth before I come over.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Love ya, bye,” Hyunjin promptly hangs up, probably eager to get back to binging whatever drama he’s watching before you lecture him about his hygiene again. Not that it matters, anyway; chances are, it went in one ear and right out the other and you’re going to drag him out of bed later to brush his teeth.

Damn. You didn’t even get the chance to say love you back. Not that it matters.

It doesn’t, you quickly shut down the pesky thought that keeps you up at night and force it back into the storage part of your brain labeled ‘Deal with Later,’ because, really, you’ll have to think about that later. It’s not that you don’t want to think about it yet… you just don’t have the time to stop and really figure out what your feelings toward Hyunjin actually are. Yeah. That’s it.

And now isn’t the time, you tell yourself, scooting up the mattress in order to bury your face in the pillows to suffocate the pounding throb in your head. Hyunjin is nothing special.

Well, no. That’s a lie. Everything about Hyunjin is special. Anyone with eyes, ears, even a nose can sense that. You had quickly found out just how wonderful he is when you met him freshman year of high school. At the time, he was everyone’s sweetheart by the first day, but it just so happened his eyes were all on you.

He was obviously adorable, and every class you had together he always made a point to talk to you and returned your sarcasm with an impressive level of expertise. So, when it came to him asking you to the first homecoming, the answer was yes without a second thought. But during the last slow dance of the night, with his hands gently holding your waist, he at last listened to his conscience and revealed that as much as he liked you, he truly did not want to date in high school. Or right then, at least. And honestly, you were glad; Hyunjin was quite possibly your favorite person you had met thus far, and you would have rather kept him as a friend than commit to a relationship the second month of school and risk losing him later down the road.

And boy, keep him as a friend you did. As it turned out, Hyunjin grew to be your truest, best friend in high school. Sure, you each had your own friend groups, but the two of you were the iconic pair everybody knew. But strictly platonic, despite the rumors and wishes that went around for the next four years. You like to think that neither of you ever developed feelings past what everyone feels toward their best friend— an innocent, wholesome sort of love.

But when had things changed? Hormones, as always, were definitely a big part of it. Hyunjin was always a cutie, but it wasn’t until he grew into his own skin and developed a newfound confidence did you start to see him differently. Until everyone saw him differently. Neither of you missed the way people stared him down, pupils dilating every time he ran his fingers through the black tufts of his hair, hearts aching for some sort of interaction. Or when you started attending parties, groups of girls would fling themselves at him in a blundering disarray, most of which he would turn down with a gentle dismissal that flew over their heads, too drunk to actually care.

But then there were times his dick made the decision for him, desperation and deprivation weighing in on him and you’d watch with a tight jaw as he’d leave the room with the pretty girl of the night skipping after him. You never realized it was only on those nights did you wind up in the back seat of Han Jisung’s car.

But even after the physical attraction sizzled out over time, things were not the same. Hyunjin wasn’t your hidden little treasure anymore. All eyes were set on him and it took more than a glass of water to swallow your jealousy. But why? Why were you so resentful all of a sudden?

It’s hard to share Hwang Hyunjin, you decided. Once established that you were his main hoe and he was yours, it became a significant burden watching others try and get in between. Not that they did it with a malicious attempt to separate you, but it still hurt. You’re selfish, and you admit it— Hyunjin, quite frankly, is the love of your life. Romantic or not, nothing could change your feelings toward him. It goes beyond his unfathomable beauty and spunky personality. Everything about him from his nose to his hands, to his distaste for onions and the way his face scrunches up when he lets out that giggle of his and even to the way he prefers to sleep against the wall but will force you to when you’re over so he can “protect you in case there’s a monster” all mount into this big, giant section of your heart set aside for Hyunjin.

So despite your efforts to ignore the pang of jealousy each time he would find a potential someone or the joy whenever he’d find his way back because “they kept wanting to hang out in the morning even though I said I don’t wake up before noon,” this Hyunjin-shaped hole in your heart seems to only grow the longer you ignore it. Kind of like every medical condition out there: the longer you ignore it, the worse it gets. So, basically Hyunjin is your heart disease.

Yikes. Sounds a lot worse when you try putting it into words.

Well, he won’t be your heart defect for long if he keeps ruining those pearly whites of his by only brushing once just before bed, you chuckle to yourself, rolling to your side at the sudden lack of oxygen between your face and the pillow. There’s a fleeting moment without thought when you unconsciously reach for your phone to check for any notifications before the fattest revelation of them all falls from the ceiling and smacks you right upside the face.

Shit. Looks like you’ve gone right ahead and totally dissected each and every fiber of your feelings for Hyunjin.

Blinking up at the ceiling, the weight of your emotions isn’t as heavy as you expected them to be. Instead, it’s more of a breath of fresh air, as if you have finally accepted the way things fell instead of ignoring them. Your feelings for Hyunjin have always been there. It just took a little effort to get them out.

Nevertheless, it is going to be difficult hanging out with him in a few hours with your exposed emotions still needing to be processed. Especially when he will pull you to his side and keep you nestled there the entire night. Rubbing your temples, you realize it will take some serious self-control to put everything on the back burner and just enjoy the time spent with Hyunjin.

Sighing, you check the time on your phone again. 3:21 and a text from Hyunjin asking if you could bring green tea.

“Mom!” You yell, defeated. “You were right!”

You used to think Hyunjin lived far away. Truthfully, he’s only fifteen minutes away if you go ten over the speed limit. But the only way to get to his house entails driving through the chaos of the mall and town center, which adds an extra ten minutes sitting through traffic no matter the time of day.

Now, Hyunjin’s college campus is two hours away. Well, technically five from you, since you’re almost three hours away in the opposite direction. So you’re lucky if you get to see him once a month with how hectic school becomes and how difficult it is trying to plan to come home the same weekend. Fortunately, it has worked out this semester. And while you should spend this time with your families, they know how much you crave one another’s company as the weeks drag on. The twenty-two minutes it takes getting to each other’s homes is totally worth it.

You expect Hyunjin to tell you to use the key hidden underneath the resin meditating frog statue in the front garden to unlock the front door when you text him you have arrived, but to your utmost surprise, he’s there, awake, to open the door for you.

“Stinky!” You yell, dropping your things on the floor to burry yourself in his embrace, standing on your tippy toes to wrap your arms around his neck in order to really get the full experience of hugging your favorite giant. “Poopy!” He shouts in return, long arms winding tightly around your waist and even going so far as to lift you up a few inches. God. Hate when he does that.

“Why are you up? I thought I’d have to let myself in with you sleeping all your problems away,” you ask, smiling gratefully when he bends down to pick up your bag. “I realized Kkami hadn’t been out all day, so I came down to let him out and find actual food,” Hyunjin explains as he makes way into the kitchen, opening the back door to let said dog back inside. “Aw, poor thing,” you pout, squatting to scratch at Kkami’s neck when he zooms faster than the speed of light to you, “does that mean you brushed your teeth?”

“I did, actually,” Hyunjin snorts right back, scrunching his nose at you before turning away to open the fridge. Sitting on the floor with Kkami in your lap, you take the opportunity to finally get a good look at Hyunjin now that he’s distracted. And of course, he looks good. Really good. Last time you saw him he still was a brunette, a look he rocked during the spring and summer months. This is the first time you’ve seen the freshly dyed black hair in person. Even though he always looks handsome, something about Hyunjin with black hair completely changes his aura. Brings back memories of how badly you wanted him in high school. You shiver at the thought.

And, to top it all off, how he manages to stay in such disgustingly good shape despite his atrocious eating habits never ceases to amaze you. Like, come on. The boy eats worse than a raccoon seven days out of the week, lives off boba, works out maybe five times a month, dances in his free time and still keeps his body in tiptop shape. God, you hate him. His pediatrician probably hates him, too. You even go as far as to sniff the fries in your dining hall and you gain five pounds.

Even now, he looks unnecessarily regal in the baggy material of his sweatpants and flannel. And the warmth of his kitchen’s ambient lighting does nothing to suppress the heavy thumping of your heart. So casual is his dress, yet how immaculate he looks rummaging the cabinets for a snack.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, the familiar softness of his voice shaking you from your daze as he closes the refrigerator door after his unsuccessful search. Here’s the thing: you really aren’t hungry, but Hyunjin clearly is, so if you say no then all he will be thinking about is food until you decide that you are hungry. “Yeah,” is what you say, nudging Kkami off your crossed legs to stand, “I brought green tea and a few snacks, but we could order Chinese food or something. The place near Dunkin’ and the gas station makes bubble tea now, too.”

Hyunjin’s brows shoot up, flashing his boxy smile. “Is it good?”

“I mean, I’ve only had their pork dumplings and mango tea before, and it was pretty good. I don’t know about their noodles or anything, though,” you shrug, moving to stand beside him at the kitchen island. Distracted by Kkami trying to jump onto the sofa in the living room, you don’t look to Hyunjin until the poor dog is successful in doing so. Startled to find him already gazing down at you, your heart truly is not prepared for him to go right ahead and wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. Totally not freaking out or trying to overthink his need to constantly cling, you justify his actions by quickly recalling the time he said, “My head is too godtdamn big for my godtdamn body.” More like his head is too heavy because instead of a brain it’s just a chunk of cement up there. He just needs to rest his head sometimes.

Yeah.

“Mm, I don’t know,” Hyunjin hums, swaying your body with his to an unheard tune. By now, any coherent thought has dissipated into thin air and all you can do is melt against him. “Why?” You manage.

“’Cus if we order anything that means I’ll have to get up and get it.”

“Oh my God, Hyunjin, really?” You laugh. Your hands naturally glide to where his are linked at your stomach, pressing to interlock your fingers overtop his. “If that’s the only reason for your uncertainty than I could always come get it, idiot.”

“No! It’s okay,” Hyunjin says, jumping back before you can even process it, “I’m not that hungry anyway.”

“Ohhh ‘kay,” you laugh breathlessly, whiplashed by the whole thing. Good thing you aren’t hungry, because when was the last time Hyunjin turned down food? Blinking at him precariously, he doesn’t seem to notice until one too many seconds of silence pass by.

“C’mon,” he demands excitedly, jumping back into reality, “my roommate told me to watch this anime called Soul Eater but I wanted to watch it with you.” Once again, before anything can even register past every single That Was Cute™ alarm ringing in your brain, Hyunjin is grabbing your bag and reaching for your hand, leading you out of the kitchen and upstairs.

You and Hyunjin binge aforementioned anime until he falls asleep first around 2 AM, only stopping to order food an hour in (he’s an indecisive man indeed), to get up to retrieve it, and to actually eat while catching up. For most of the night, you are able to forget the way his heartbeat against your back mirrored your own in the kitchen. But then, a little while after you fall asleep yourself, Hyunjin unconsciously shifts closer and you spend another hour blinking at his relaxed hand twitching against your abdomen, trying to keep the hurricane inside your heart at bay.

You can’t make it home October. Hyunjin texted you to let you know he was going to be the third weekend in, and you tried desperately to manage your time in order to make it work. But one group project in chem lead to another paper in psych and before you knew it, your roommate was listening to you sob over a boy and curse out your classes.

September left you emotionally wrecked, to be totally honest. You hate Hyunjin and you hate the way he makes you feel and you especially hate how realizing you have a crush on him makes you unsure if everything he does is his way of hinting he feels the same or if he’s always been this touchy and you are just now recognizing it. So, missing a month of seeing your favorite human being essentially means missing another day of trying to decipher which actions of his go in the Friend list, and which go in the Questionable list. And that, my friend, is unacceptable.

You absolutely cannot not go home this month. November is the calm before the storm (the storm being exams looming the second week of December), and while it would be beneficial maybe staying on campus to continue preparing, you tell yourself going home will be just as helpful. Mental breaks, and stuff. Totally not just to see Hyunjin.

Either way, Hyunjin asks you if you would join him on the seventeenth to go to his second cousin’s christening and you absolutely cannot say no when you know how bored Hyunjin gets at family events when they aren’t for him. And so, fast forward to the third Sunday of November and you are ready to pass out ten minutes after entering the church.

“I’m so happy for you two! I always knew you would last into college,” one of Hyunjin’s aunts exclaims, pinching your cheeks but the only pinch you feel is that of your heart.

Clearly she is misinformed, or just prone to jumping to conclusions but yet again, you can’t really blame her with how couple-y you and Hyunjin are. Past the single tunnel vision of your gaze, you watch her smile falter when Hyunjin goes rigid beside you and oh my God this is the most embarrassing moment of my life, his whole family thinks we’re dating and here we are still stuck in each other’s friendz—

“I’m glad you think so, imo,” Hyunjin suddenly picks up, sneaking an arm around to rest his hand on your hip, tugging you close, “I don’t know what I’ll do if she ever decides to leave me.”

It’s nice to think that he means it, to imagine that you are here not as a tag-along but to join him in a family ceremony because you are part of the family. The thought turns your blood to sugar and everything surrounding you falls apart; you listen to the rest of their conversation without processing it, the precise detailing in the marble pillars blurs into a mass of white, and you still feel his strong hold on the curve of your waist yet you are lost in the swam of possibilities.

How lovely it would be to live up to her assumption. To ‘last into college’ as a couple, not as best friends. To be able to call him yours even when you’re not together, to come home and kiss his lips, to sleep in his bed and it mean more than the laziness of blowing up the air mattress. At some point, he leads you into the third pew to sit beside his parents, and when you greet them with a hug all you can think about is them viewing you as more than their son’s friend.

God, you hate it.

You’re not as religious as Hyunjin and his family. But for the first time in years, you find yourself looking to the crucifix during the service and praying to whoever is up there to give you some strength and patience, because Lord do you need it.

Hyunjin is a funny guy.

Or so he thinks.

It’s not that he isn’t funny. It’s just— compared to your friends Minho or Changbin, he isn’t at the top of the list. When you think of Hyunjin, the first words that pop up are soft, loud, and dramatic.

It’s not that he isn’t funny. He’s just weird.

Insanely, ridiculously weird. For example, the time he called Jeongin a vitamin. Or the time he slapped half a bottle of sunscreen on his face. Or his random bouts of dancing at inappropriate moments. Just to name a few.

After the Baptism, Hyunjin acted like nothing happened. Didn’t even bring it up. Not even a joke. After the ceremony, you joined his family for a luncheon, which just involved the two of you being weird and making peculiar dancing videos on SnapChat with the swirly filter and complaining about school for a few hours until he drove you home. Obviously you stopped for food again on the way.

But that was it. Things went on as normal, and you returned to campus later that night and forced the whole experience to the back of your brain. It was officially grind season, and grind season meant studying for exams. No parties. No boys. And certainly no Hyunjin.

You both were home for winter break in the blink of an eye. And in normal Hyunjin style, he sort of vanished for the first week. Probably catching up on his strict sleeping schedule, you presumed, and accepted the fact that it was going to be a few days before you saw or even heard from him. The only anticipation you felt was wanting to give him his Christmas gift.

After what seems like an eternity away from Hyunjin, you get out of the shower on this fine Saturday before Christmas to find a slew of texts from him.

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: Aloha mamacita

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: How do u feel about getting froyo tn

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: We can get fat and then u can sleepover aaaand

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: We can stare at the wall for a few hours

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: And

[5:53 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: *cough*

[5:53 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: Exchange Jesus gifts

See? Weird. Who wants froyo when it’s thirty degrees out?

[5:53 PM] YN: “aloha mamacita”

[5:53 PM] YN: uHmmmMMM

[5:53 PM] YN: im down mr president

[5:54 PM] YN: why do u want ice cream in winter tho. don’t u want like

[5:54 PM] YN: hot chocolate or seomthing

Obviously not. Two hours later, Hyunjin arrives to pick you up for froyo despite all your efforts in convincing him maybe you could take the train to the city and watch a light show, or simply drive around and swoon over the rich people houses and their Christmas decorations. He didn’t budge. This leads you to your second question of the day: why is it that when you threw on sweats for the occasion you called yourself a hag, but upon entering Hyunjin’s car you make a mental note of how hot he looks when he’s wearing the same exact thing? You groan at the thought. It’s because it’s Hyunjin, of course.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle,” he greets, flicking your forehead once you settle into the seat of his Subaru WRX because he’s a hotshot and likes to flex that he can drive a manual. Not really— the car is absolute garbage by now, having been his Dad’s old car (his Dad likes to flex too, apparently). However, Hyunjin takes care of it enough for it to seem five years old instead of ten, and, either way, watching him work the stick shift is unexplainably hot.

You swat his hand away. “Drive, bitch,” you huff, twisting to buckle yourself in. Once he’s reversed out of your driveway, you glance back to find him fighting against a devilish smirk.

“So,” you start once he has navigated out of your neighborhood. His brow twitches up. “Are you taking Hawaiian and French at school? You’ve been throwing quite a lot of languages at me recently.” Hyunjin shoots you an unamused look. You return it with a wrinkle of your nose.

“Anyway,” he ignores your teasing, pausing to switch gears for whatever reason so he can make it through a yellow light, “how did your exams go?”

“Well, you know…” You trail off, looking to your window. It feels a lot later than eight o’clock. With it getting dark so early in the evening nowadays, it feels as if nighttime is always following you.

“You know… what?” Hyunjin interrupts your daze, concern laced in his voice. “They were fine. I passed everything, I’m just worried about my major,” you explain sadly, barely glancing at him before you are turning back to the window to stare at the moon. Must be nice being a moon. Just get to hang out in the sky watching everyone and being watched.

“I mean, if you want to switch, now’s the time. Better do it now before the second semester,” Hyunjin advises, wise as always. Not really, but he’s right. “What are you thinking of going into?”

Yikes. He’s going to kill you.

“Nursing,” you blurt.

“Oh my Lanta, ___, are you serious?” He groans, stopping at a convenient red light presenting the perfect opportunity for him to smack his forehead on the wheel. Dramatic. “How are you gonna manage that? You’ll practically be two years behind everyone else!”

“I know,” you sigh, throwing your head back on the headrest, “that’s the problem. Bio just isn’t doing it for me. I don’t think I can spend the rest of my life in a lab watching mitosis. I need something more rewarding, so theoretically nursing is a perfect start. I don’t know, though.”

“Why don’t you switch to interior design or something? We could get our own HGTV show, ___,” he says, but you don’t meet his gaze when he glances over because beneath his words, you can sense some serious hopefulness. Interior design would be cool, but you’ve never considered that as a career choice. You once helped your parents pick out everything when they redid a bathroom at home and that turned out great, but as a major?

“I don’t know, man. I’ll have to talk to my counselor about it, I guess,” you shrug, pulling the hood of your sweatshirt over your head and tightening the drawstrings until the material covers your eyes, “why can’t you audition to be a K-pop star or something? I could be your manager. Heck, even your makeup artist. I’ve done your makeup before, remember?”

Hyunjin laughs, loud, and the sound sinks deep into your heart and makes you feel warm all over. Stress? Gone.

For the next few minutes or so, the ride is comfortably quiet. At some point, he turns on the radio and Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You” floods your brain and reminds you to look forward to exchanging Christmas gifts later. God, you hope he likes it. You really went out on the sentimental gifts this year.

Hood shielding your vision, you jump when his large hand suddenly comes to grab the top of your head, squeezing hard and you imagine he’s trying to press some hopefulness into your brain. “Hand on the penis stick, Hwang,” you bark, blindly reaching for his own head across the way and pulling his ear when you do so. Good Lord, you hope no one can see into the car because… what.

Hyunjin lets out a giggle this time, reaching to pull you into a headlock and even though he’s got your head shoved up against his sturdy chest and goes on to give you a noogie, you’re stuck being all high and loopy on the sound of his happiness. And hey, it’s nice to know you’re the cause of it.

“We’re literally parked, idiot. If you had your hood down you would’ve realized,” Hyunjin snickers, releasing you after watching you struggle for a few seconds. Jerking away from him, you swiftly pull back your hood. “Oh,” you laugh, reading the flashy Yogo Factory sign above the building in front of you, “you could’ve just told me instead of watching me bask in misery.”

Hyunjin suitably ignores your moaning and groaning by getting out of the car and standing in front of the car, illuminated by the headlights. Why? Why must he look so scrumptious in his black hoodie and grey sweatpants and four-year-old white Nike sneakers? He has no gosh darn right!

After fixing the mess he made of your hair, you at last join him outside the car, shooting him another glare and moving ahead of him to open the shop’s door without waiting for him. “From now on, we have to start texting each other what we’re wearing before we go out, ‘cus this looks a little ri-donk-ulous,” Hyunjin whispers in your ear as you make your way to the cup selection, trying to ignore all the stares you— no, he is getting along the way.

“What do you mean?” You ask, plucking two medium sized cups up before turning to look at him. Then you look down at yourself. Oh. Looks like you’re both wearing the hoodie from junior spirit week. “Nice.” Just Couple Things™!

Back to Hyunjin being weird— why did he drag you all the way out here just to get a cup of chocolate frozen yogurt and maybe half a scoop of peanut butter chips?

Meanwhile, he watches in absolute disgust as you blow through your own dessert. Vanilla yogurt with probably every topping offered because you physically cannot make a decision, especially when they have chunks of cookie dough up there.

“So,” Hyunjin starts, trying not to look you in the eye considering you look like a goblin shoveling globs of diabetes down your throat, “have you talked to Jisung recently?”

You choke on a Fruity Pebble at his inquiry, prompting him to reach across the table and slap your back a few times until your esophagus is cleared. “Ugh,” clearing your throat one last time, you take a few sips of water while shooting him a glare. Jisung? Really? “How dense are you?” You hiss unintentionally.

Hyunjin raises his hands in defense. “Just a question.”

Yeah, just a question. Dumbass. “I mean,” you laugh awkwardly, “not really. We have a streak on Snap and sometimes we’ll talk occasionally but I don’t text him every day or anything. How about you?”

He shrugs, concentrating instead on stirring his yogurt into a goopy mess. “Eh. We still use our group chat a lot but that’s it. He’s too busy making music in Malaysia.”

You chuckle at this, picking out the boba from your own cup and leaving the rest now that it has started to look like something sold at the Chum Bucket. “That sucks,” you offer, not the best at giving him consolidation, you opt for linking your feet around his own in some weird act of intimacy, “isn’t he coming home for the holidays, though? I’m sure you can all have a reunion soon.”

“Yeah, he is,” Hyunjin hums, suddenly too focused on trying to escape your trap under the table. Annoyed Hyunjin is cute. “Stoooop,” he whines, kicking at your shins before breaking into boisterous laughter at your relentlessness, “I will not hesitate to throw this cup at your face.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, “I’d like to see you try.”

At this, Hyunjin drops his stupidly long arms beneath the table and easily captures your foot by the ankle, pulling hard enough for you to slip down your side of the booth. “Hyunjin!” You shriek, panicking slightly at your sweaty hand’s insecure grip against the leather. You’re going to fall. You’re going to fall flat on your ass underneath a table at a frozen yogurt place because the boy you like pulled your foot too hard. Fantastic. Ignoring you, he starts to wiggle your shoe off your foot no matter how hard you try to squirm out of his relentless grip. “Stop trying to eat my toes in the middle of Yogo!”

Finally, he releases your foot, letting it fall limp against his thigh.

“God,” you huff, breathless as you squirm back up your seat, cheeks burning ferociously, “you are such an ass.”

Behind the playful smirk he fails to hide, something darker glints in Hyunjin’s eyes and it makes your heart skip a beat. Then, “We should go.” The suggestion makes the heat of your blush scorch even hotter down your neck and you instinctively turn away, only to find the customers on the other side of the shop watching you with just as perturbed looks. Fantastic, part two.

“Okie,” you squeak out, blinking after him in complete and total bewilderment as to what just happened when he gets up to throw his trash away. Whatever. Following after him, you too toss your cup out before quickly finding your hand engulfed by his larger one as he leads you back outside, the sudden sharpness of the cold air bringing tears to your eyes. You desperately want to ask him what that was about, or why he’s acting so sneaky, but you stay silent, too afraid your voice will come out shaky and vulnerable. Instead, you let him tug you into his side and try to keep up with him no matter how badly your knees threaten to buckle with each glance you sneak up at him.

It’s silent when you enter the car, watching warily as he reverses out of the parking spot and maneuvers through the lot. Your heart rate seemingly cannot slow itself down, adrenaline taking the place of oxygen the longer you stare at him, at the concentrated scrunch to his face, at the cute tip of his button nose and at the swell of his lips and you distantly wonder what would happen if you pulled him into a kiss at the next red light.

In the midst of your daydream Hyunjin clears his throat, bringing you back to reality and you realize with a startle that he has caught you. Jesus Christ! What has gotten into you? You mentally smack yourself upside the head, instantly turning away from his cocky little gaze and staring straight ahead in search of something else to focus on. “___,” he sing-songs, slow and sensual and entirely demolishing the walls you have built around yourself. It is at this red light you wish to simply open the door and run.

“Yes?” You manage, wincing at how small your voice sounds and while looking out his window instead of into his eyes, you notice him grip the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. The tension is insurmountable, weighing in heavily on your chest and you desperately wish to arrive home, even though that means having to survive the next twelve hours with him. Anything is better than the small confines of his car.

“What do you want to do when we get home?” He asks, cool as a cucumber. You pale. It is a dangerous question and you do not know if he realizes that. “Um,” you cough, scooting to sit up straight, “whatever you want.” You whisper the last part, genuinely petrified because you have absolutely no idea if your brain is twisting everything to make it seem like Hyunjin is flirting or if things are totally normal. No idea.

“Hm,” he offers, tilting his head in thought, “we shall see.”

Yeah. We shall.

The rest of the ride is quiet, comfortably or uncomfortably you cannot say because you are too busy trying to calm the Spongebob burning office scene occurring inside your own head, hopelessly telling yourself that everything is fine, Hyunjin’s fine, you’re fine. Just pretend like nothing happened, you tell yourself when Hyunjin pulls into his driveway with practiced ease. “Ugh,” he groans after retrieving your bag from the back seat, and you watch with a raised brow as he skips up to his porch, yelling, “I have to pee!”

“Begone with you, piss boy,” you tease, holding the screen door open for him as he struggles to unlock the storm door and pulling on one of his hoodie’s drawstrings just to annoy him. “Stop,” he growls, low and playful but nevertheless sending a swarm of butterflies to your tummy. You ignore him. Finally unlocking the door, Hyunjin shoves the keys into his pocket and seizes your wrist, yanking your arm down with enough force to nearly topple you into him. “Why are you being so annoying tonight?” He frowns at you, nose and brows scrunched in irritation and it is only because of his proximity do you finally soften up.

“Sorry,” you pout back, bringing your other hand up to boop his nose, “I just missed ya.”

“Ew,” he snorts, stepping past the threshold and kicking off his shoes. You follow suit, closing the door behind you and clicking the lock into place as Kkami comes sprinting over. “B-R-B,” Hyunjin announces, presumably bouncing away to the bathroom.

“Oh, boy,” you huff, squatting to pick up the fluffy little dog and hugging him close to your chest, “your dad is making my life very difficult.” Pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head, you put Kkami back down and grab your bag before heading upstairs, knowing Hyunjin is going to take his grand old time and probably take a shit while he’s at it. Plus, you’re impatient and dying to take your bra off.

Aside from what light his Gudetama nightlight offers, Hyunjin’s room is ultimately left dark. Here’s the thing: he used to have a lamp on his dresser, but then he took it with him to college and only brings it home for summer because he’s lazy and sleeps the majority of the time he’s home, anyway. Instead, he put up his little remote-controlled Christmas tree in addition to the lava lamp he has beside his bed. Perfect. For Hyunjin, at least.

Switching both of these on, their subtle glow offers just enough to keep you from banging your toe against something. It’s happened one too many times. Hyunjin’s room isn’t messy— he really isn’t a messy person to begin with, but he will reorganize the furniture in his room fifty times a year and you never know where the crooked leg to his bedside table will be to ambush your pinky toe.

Setting your bag onto his bed, you excitedly fumble past all your layers and unclasp your bra, maneuvering out of it with a delighted exhale just as Hyunjin begins his ascent up the stairs, steps creaking loudly under his heavy trudging. “I’m an idiot,” he grumbles, leaning against the doorframe to catch his breath.

You don’t bother to look at him, opting to quickly retort instead, “We been knew.”

“Ugh,” Hyunjin groans, exasperated, and you finally turn to him after successfully jamming aforementioned undergarment into your bag, “anyways. I don’t know why I didn’t just come up here, because I have to wash my face anyway and you do too and now we’re both going to have to share a sink.”

“Aw,” you coo, tone dripping with sarcasm as you pat his arm, “poor baby has to share the bathroom.”

“I’m actually going to strangle you,” he sighs, nevertheless following after you into the bathroom.

“Kinky.”

Hyunjin glares, unamused as he opens a drawer for his pink bow hairband and your striped pink and blue one that he bought for you, but keeps here for sleepovers. Yeah. He throws it to your face. “Sorry,” you offer, pulling the soft headband up to hold your hair back, “I’ll try to stop. I’m just so used to annoying you.”

“Clearly,” he scoffs, flashing his stupidly cute teasing smile and in your head, you imagine raising a white flag in surrender— he’s got you, he’s won, it’s over. Time to call it quits and head home. Evidently shut up (for now), you offer him a roll of your eyes before turning on the sink to wet your hands before pumping out some of his scrumptious watermelon face wash. Maybe if you scrub hard enough, you’ll manage to rinse away all the overwhelming thoughts of the night, too.

Barefaced Hyunjin is immaculate. Well, Hyunjin is immaculate twenty-four hours out of the day, but barefaced, freshly washed, hair messy, ready for bed Hyunjin is immaculate, and you are one of the few people lucky enough to see this eighth wonder of the world as often as you do.

Now, maybe it has something to do with the unexpected ambiance the light from his laptop, Christmas lights, and lava lamp have created together that makes him look so unfairly beautiful at this given moment. Or, you’re just insanely pussywhipped and looking for an excuse. You try not to think about it.

“Why are you so squirmy tonight?” He asks, frustrated enough to interrupt Kermit singing ‘Shawty I don’t mind’ playing from his laptop. “I’m not,” you defend, a weak argument indeed, given that you have just finished adjusting your position beside him for the umpteenth time.

“I mean, four female Ghostbusters? The feminists are taking over! I’m an ad—”

“___, you’ve touched my dick like four times. Don’t try and tell me you’re not squirmy. What’s wrong?” Hyunjin interrupts a second Vine, and even goes on to talk over ‘I have the power of God and anime on my side!’ like a lunatic. Oh Christ, you have? Surely you would have noticed. “Sorry,” you mumble, embarrassed as you bury your face into the curve of his pectoral and instinctively move your leg settled between his away, “I’m just hot, to be honest.” Technically, it is not a lie. Hyunjin’s family definitely keeps their thermostat at a higher temperature than yours and you always manage to sweat your ass off every time you come over. This time, however, you are certain it has more to do with the assault your heart is facing rather than your sweat glands.

At the sound of his tap against the spacebar to pause the video, you wordlessly and reluctantly sit up from your comfortable spot beside him in order to rid yourself of your heavy sweatshirt. Now, here lies the problem. Sweatshirt: off. Nipples: out. Realistically, Hyunjin has seen your boobs a number of times over the past few years, and even if he hadn’t, he probably wouldn’t even bat an eye. But right now, your heart is on the line, you’re embarrassed and you’re trying to play it extremely safe.

You toss the hoodie to the floor and nestle right back where you were anyway, slinging your right arm over his torso and ignoring his sharp intake of breath when you snuggle closer. “Better?” He asks, voice strained and it literally makes you nauseous. “Yep.”

He resumes the video. You had started early in the night watching Pom Poko, which unsurprisingly ended with the two of you crying at the bittersweet ending, then moved to TikTok compilations on YouTube to cheer up before moving on from them and onto the classic Vine compilations. You paid good attention for the most part, chuckling along with him to ‘What up, I’m Jared, I’m nineteen and I never fucking learned how to read,’ ‘Bruh chill, I don’t know why you in a big time rush,’ and all the other absolute comedic masterpieces. But after the fourth or fifth video of the same six second clips with an occasional rare one, you began to grow bored and decided to do what you do best: admire Hyunjin.

Sure, ‘Come get yo juice!’ followed by the loud smash of the oven made you smile, but you found the flashing lights casting shadows beneath Hyunjin’s eyes and lips much more fascinating. Of course, this is not the first time you have been held so close to him. But it is, however, all too easy to get lost in the sight of him and you’ve noticed recently that you are in desperate need of a map. Whether it’s due to your time away from him or simply an appreciation for untouched beauty you do not know.

Even now, your gaze flickers to his laptop once you hear ‘Get to Del Taco,’ but having already watched it five thousand times you tilt your head upward to catch Hyunjin’s silent giggle at ‘free-sha-voca-do.’ It’s a vicious cycle, really, going back and forth between wanting to simply enjoy the night and realizing enjoying the night lies totally in Hyunjin’s presence. And so, you continue to fall into this trap each time until you pay no mind to the videos at all, basking in the brilliance of Hyunjin’s joyous smile and the warmth his happiness makes you feel. It is this thought that slowly tugs you to sleep, a fight to keep your heavy eyelids open lost until finally, you give in to the comfort and allow yourself to drift off to the sound of ‘Step the fuck up, Kyle.’

You think you are dreaming.

You think.

“___,” the softness of Hyunjin’s voice at the crown of your head eases you from the clutches of sleep and you stretch your locked limbs before curling further into his side. “We didn’t open presents.” Even though you can’t see him, you can hear his pout, and you realize you must be awake to hear the disappointed words caught sluggishly between his lips so vividly. You hum, hesitant to open your eyes because you really want to go back to sleep. Just for a little while. And so, you ask, “What time is it?”

“Just past two,” he whispers.

You hum again, trying to formulate a sensible sentence in the parts of your brain still asleep, “We can… wake up at four. And open gifts. Okay?”

“Okay, weirdo,” Hyunjin chuckles to himself, sliding lower down the mattress after shutting his laptop.

You think you are dreaming.

You think.

You can’t remember ever falling asleep facing each other. But yet again, your brain is clouded beyond capability and now, you know for certain you are dreaming. Hyunjin never faces you.

Blinking slowly, it takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the impenetrable darkness and you struggle to make out the features of Hyunjin’s face. You know you are dreaming, and so you tug him closer, throwing a leg over his thigh and an arm over his waist. Even in your sleep, you feel the sadness pricking at your heart, for even it knows this is only what dreams are made of. You like to make the best of it.

“You know I love you, Jinnie, right?” Your voice comes out funny, drawn out and mumbled like your tongue is numb and you fight the urge to feel for yourself.

“Of course I do. I love you too.” His reply surprises you. You thought he was asleep and, either way, hearing such fond words from him puts your heart at ease. He must be misunderstood.

“No. I mean like… I like you, love you. Like I want to kiss you… kiss you good morning and before bed love you. Send you hearts and take stupid couple pics and… go on dumb dates love you. You know?” Your words feel garbled and incomprehensible the longer you go on, trying to express how you feel when nothing is real proving to be increasingly difficult. God, if only you could do it when things are real.

You start to feel yourself slipping as he mutters a reply, mind in free fall and fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s whispering and you can’t hear him but you are too tired and helpless to wake yourself up to hear it. No, too lost in the next dream to go back. You can’t tell what is real and what isn’t. Christ, were you awake? You can’t tell. All you know is that you are warm, so, so warm and letting sleep take over you once more is the best answer to all your questions.

Hyunjin always says he hates waking people up. Because he’s normally the one needing to be awoken, whenever the roles are swapped he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

This time, however, he takes it upon himself to repeatedly smack your face with his pillow. Not a fun experience when it’s coming from someone who fails to recognize his own strength. “Jesus, fuck! Okay!” You hiss, the cloud of sleep abruptly ripped away from you with the slap of his pillow against your skin. Arms raised defensively in front of you, you catch his next swing and tear the pillow out of his grasp to shield yourself all before you have even opened your eyes. When you do so, with the blatant intention just to find where he is and hurl the pillow at him, you are met with the harsh light from his ceiling fan and have to squint past the stinging white light to see his shit-eating grin.

“Was that necessary?” You groan, undeniably annoyed and wanting to glare at him more but needing to rub the ache out of your eyes. “Yes,” is all he says, reaching for your bag and catapulting it to you. He is incredibly lucky you are quick enough to catch it before it thumps against your head. What has gotten into him? Did he eat an entire bag of Pixy Stix while you were asleep? You watch, still dazed from sleep and reeling from the whole pillow smacking attack, as he flings open his closet door and turns back around with two neatly wrapped boxes. You squint to make out the dancing Santa T-rex wrapping paper.

“Oh,” you chirp, understanding, and you unzip your bag to retrieve the large box taking up the majority of space, “thanks for waking me up. I’m surprised you remembered. Did you stay up?”

A rosy blush burns its way across his cheekbones. Odd. “I, um— yeah. No, actually,” he stutters, really odd, given he was bouncing off the walls not even thirty seconds ago, “I set an alarm. You made me sleepy.” Hyunjin sits beside you once you have scooted over, leaning against the wall and crossing his long ass legs. He keeps his eyes trained on the boxes in his hands. “Oh,” you hum, looking to your own gift and suddenly wishing for the mattress to swallow you up, “sorry. I haven’t gotten as much sleep as you on break so far.”

“I don’t think anyone ever has,” he jokes and you finally look to him, sharing a cheeky smile before he gets all shy again, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “um, Merry Christmas, ___.”

It’s a simple phrase, but it makes your heart swell. “Merry Christmas to you too, Hyunjin.” Leaning over, you wrap your arms around his shoulders in an awkward side hug, but still end up feeling all drunk and loopy on love when he eagerly returns the gesture, arms curling around you.

“Okay,” you huff, sitting back, “me first.” You dramatically hold your gift out to him, jittery and nervous all over. Buying for Hyunjin is always hard. He’s just so easy to please, but when you want to do more than just please him it’s a constant battle trying to decide how far out you are going to go for him each year.

You watch impatiently as he tears the wrapping paper open first, and then finally lifts the flaps of the box up. “Aw,” he whimpers, pulling out the quokka plushie and attached certificate, “you adopted a quokka for me?”

You grin when he hugs the soft stuffed animal to his chest, the weight on your shoulders partly lifted from his positive reaction. He reaches back into the box, brow scrunched in thought as he regards the framed picture. “The First Day…?” Hyunjin asks, perplexed as he reads the title above the constellation poster. You scoot closer, leaning over to look it over once more. “This was the constellation of stars on our first day of freshman year. The day we first met.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin sniffs, “that’s really awesome, ___. Thank you. This is coming with me to school.” At this, he hugs you again, probably to hide the tears you know are threatening to spill because Hyunjin is Baby and cries every year. “Anything for my favorite fake Aussie,” you smile, leaning your head on his shoulder as he reads through the quokka adoption letter.

“Okay! Your turn!” He exclaims, setting his gifts back into the box and passing you the smaller one of his. He catches your curious glance to the second one he keeps by his side. “We have to open this one together.”

“Christ, okay. Looks like I’m gonna be crying tonight, too,” you sigh sadly. “Ooh,” jumping ahead of yourself, you wiggle your eyebrows at the white box before you, “Hyunjin if you bought me a Fitbit… I swear to God. How many times have I said I am not working out with you?” However, once you finish tearing open the wrapping paper you find it is not, in fact, a Fitbit.

“It’s not a Fitbit, idiot,” Hyunjin scoffs a second too late, waiting for you to slip the lid off the box. “They’re bond touch bracelets.”

“Explain,” you murmur, enamored but confused at the two little house arrest looking bracelets.

“So basically, we each wear one,” Hyunjin starts, taking one of the bracelets out and a burst of color blooms across its small screen at the motion, “and if you touch it, mine vibrates and I ‘feel’ your touch.” As he explains, he buckles it around your wrist, twisting it so it lies correctly. You silently take the second one and help it on him, brain too caught up to actually say anything.

“Try it,” Hyunjin whispers, suppressing his excitement.

You gingerly bring a finger to the little screen, tapping it once, twice. Nothing happens. Frowning, you try again, tapping and holding, then a second time, and finally— a strip of pink light appears and the bracelet gently vibrates as you tap and hold a random pattern. In response, the bracelet on Hyunjin’s wrist lights up blue, buzzing in the same pattern.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you sniffle, fighting back your own tears because you refuse to let yourself ugly cry in front of him, “this is amazing. Now I can annoy you year-round. Thank you so, so much. I love you so much.” He hums, pulling you close when you turn to give him a proper hug. To your utmost surprise, however, instead of letting go he curls one fist into your side and helps swing your legs over to straddle his lap. “Oh.”

“___,” Hyunjin sighs thoughtfully, fingers playing with the sleeves of your tee, “I love you, too.”

You nearly spit up your coffee. If you were drinking coffee. Instead, you’re left with a dry mouth and a slack jaw at his words. Huh?

Glancing to the constellation picture peeking out of his box, and then to the matching bracelets you both wear, you find your mind reeling trying to make sense of it all. Yeah, you say the forbidden L-word to each another all the time, but most certainly not with you on his on lap and his lips mere centimeters away. The answer is so obviously clear as day you have trouble believing it.

“Fuck,” you laugh all of a sudden, as soon as the realization hits you, “I wasn’t dreaming, was I?”

Hyunjin lets out a joyous giggle, hands linking behind your back. Unable to hide his smile any longer, he clarifies, “You were not, madam. We literally just finished talking about when we were going to open gifts and then I got ready to sleep. Two seconds later you dumped your heart out to me, but when I answered, you were asleep.”

“Bruh,” you wince, hiding your face with your hands, “I am so sorry you had to deal with that.”

“No, don’t be,” Hyunjin comforts, reaching to tug your hands away. Your gut does somersaults when he intertwines his fingers with yours. “I was actually, uh, planning on doing some sort of confession to you anyway, but then you went right ahead and did it for me. So thanks for that.”

“Wow,” you chuckle, trying to wrap your mind around it all, “does that mean you, ahem, perhaps like me too?”

“No, I just got us really couple-y long distance relationship bracelets, pulled you onto my lap, and kissed you because I just want to be friends.”

“You didn’t kiss m—”

The sly little fucker interrupts your retort by quickly dipping down to press a fat smooch to your lips, missing miserably and you don’t know if he did it on purpose but you quickly fix the problem, releasing his hands to cradle his jaw and tilt his head the right angle. Finally, finally you kiss him, breathing in the smell of him like some sort of aromatherapy and whimpering into his mouth when his tongue swipes against your own. It is like nothing you have ever experienced, the taste and feel of him making you tremble and igniting a burst of electricity through your veins. You could kiss him forever, you think, sucking on his plump bottom lip greedily until he finally pulls back, desperate for air or trying to reel himself in you can’t say.

“You have to open your other gift,” Hyunjin reminds, chest heaving, and your gaze follows his long fingers as they comb his hair away from his forehead. Automatically, as if kissing Hyunjin once grants you some kind of free pass to do the same, you brush a few stray strands away from his face before leaning back to admire him. “Stoooop. You can’t do that and not expect me to kiss you again. Open. Your. Gift.” Hyunjin whines, squishing your cheeks and turning your head away.

“Okay, don’t blame this on me,” you huff, reaching for the second box before jabbing a finger into his chest, “you, sir, need to stop being so beautiful for like, two seconds.”

He scoffs, helping you rip off the wrapping paper, “You’re the beautiful one here.”

“Ew,” you wrinkle your nose, most certainly not used to Hyunjin dishing out such compliments, “this is too Hallmark Christmas movie for me. Let me open my gift in peace, ugly.” This box, unlike the bracelets’, is simple cardboard and when you lift open the lid, a brown leather book looks back at you. “You remember Up?” He asks.

On the leather, it reads Our Adventure Book in mismatched colors. “Yeah,” you whisper, flipping open the cover to find two baby pictures glued on the paper, one of Hyunjin, and one of you. At the top, it’s labeled ‘Before Shit Went Down.’ You laugh.

On the next page, there are random photographs from middle school, and then finally each other’s eighth grade graduation portraits. Then, written at the top is ‘Here It Begins,’ followed by a selfie he randomly took with you a few weeks into school freshman year, and then some from homecoming. Silently flipping through the rest of the book, your tears flow freely now, touched beyond comparison at all the photographs and all the memories accompanying them. Some are from large events like prom, others from random moments you don’t even remember, but each and every one comes together to form a special mold fitting perfectly into that Hyunjin-shaped hole in your heart.

The last picture is from the christening last month. Of course, it isn’t one of the nicer photos his mom took of the two of you, but a SnapChat selfie with the flaming sunglasses filter. He’s mid-laugh and you’re pressing a kiss to his cheek. Funny thing is, you don’t even remember taking it.

The page next to it is blank, aside from what’s written at the top of the page. “Togetha Foreva,” you read aloud, voice choked up and God, you cannot fathom how gross you look right now. “What the fuck, man!” You sob, punching Hyunjin’s shoulder before wiping your nose and cheeks with the back of your hands. “I didn’t sign up for this cock and ball torture.”

Hyunjin laughs loudly at this, pulling you into a hug and giving you a few seconds to recover. “Hyunjin, this is like… seriously the best thing anyone has ever done for me, holy shit. God, you Pinterest son of a bitch, this is such a good idea,” you groan, flipping back through the pages and getting teary-eyed all over again, “I can’t express how much this means to me, Jinnie. Thank you, really.”

Flashing that toothy grin of his, Hyunjin tugs you to lie back down with him and tilts your head up to press a much more accurate kiss to your lips. “I meant what I said before, ___,” he murmurs, “I don’t know what to do without you, and I know we only get to see each other once a month but I can’t keep living as just friends. You’re so much more than that. And I hope all the pictures we add from now on will show this new chapter of our lives. If not, well, then I guess I’ll just burn the book.”

“Are you asking me to be Kkami’s official poop-picker-upper?”

“Yes. Wait— what? No!”

You break into a fit of laughter, only to be interrupted with him pinching your side and causing you to let out a yelp. “Hey!” You bark, jumping closer to him and away from his hand until, finally, you give in to your self-indulgence and go right on ahead in swinging a leg over his hips and pinning him beneath you.

“You ruined my serious love speech, ___,” Hyunjin pouts, face scrunched up at you.

“I’m sorry, baby, go on.”

You pause, blinking slowly at him. He blinks back, the silence in the air weighing in heavily as both of your two brain cells bounce around trying to figure out what did you just call him?

“Never mind,” Hyunjin says, voice a low rumble of thunder as he reaches for your hips and easily flips positions, “I think you’re on the same boat.”

You laugh, tilting your head back and eyeing him indignantly. Fuck, he looks unfairly delectable hovering above you.

“Okay, how many more times do I have to tell you I love you for you to formally ask me to be your girlfriend, stupid?” You scowl, bringing your hands to cradle his neck, thumbs brushing delicately against his jaw.

“Call me baby again and we’ll see about making that happen.”

You raise a brow, tugging his face closer by the chain of his necklace. “You’re lucky it’s Christmas, baby.”

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acnelli · 3 years

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Hey,

I wanted to ask if you've ever gotten an ask (not me) of a well thoughtout fic of any pairing? What would you say to motivate people to try and write their stories? When people give you an idea what typically goes through your head?

Theres so many ideas, plots and prompts to choose from and write but sometimes it gets difficult for some poeple to get that inner courage to post their work.

If you don't mind me asking, what made you finally hit submit on your work?

Also, i'm a Hp Romione fanfic writer, but I do struggle with trying to upload my work whether it's here on tumblr or on A03. I've gotten give or take about 7-8 semi finished WIPs, which are all based on different varieties of prompts/ideas.

Yet, I don't know how to move on to the submitting process which is like the finished stage of writing. I've tried joining the Romione discord but I always get nervous with the huge amount of people that are on the server, it's great don't get me wrong but it's a bit intimidating. When I say that I mean that there's so many amazing writers, and artist on the server, makes me feel like my writing isnt worth posting. I know it sounds pretty lame but I cant help feeling that way.

Sorry for rambling but I just had to ask you a few questions, don't feel obligated to answer quick. I'd like you to take your time with this.

Thanks for listening and also thank you for your fanfics, they make my day always

Hello anon,

first of all, thank you so much for your kind words. I'm happy you like my stories 💛

Now to answer your questions.

1) Aside from one a little more detailed, very smutty Romione time travel story idea, I never got an ask with a full outline of a story.

2) To anyone who wants to try and write, I'd say, please do. There is always someone who wants to read your story and if you like the idea, then someone else does too. Writing is usually not a skill you are just good at, but something that takes practice. If you read a lot of fanfiction, pay attention to the writing style and see what would work best for you until you find your own style.

3) I like prompt writing, so if someone gives me a prompt I play out different scenes in my head. The prompt shouldn't be too specific, but I don't mind working with something a little bit more detailed.

4) As for the courage to post your work: I posted my first fanfiction many years ago and I just had the desire to write down my idea. When I published it I didn't think much about it beforehand. I just posted it and was very surprised when I got reviews. The fic doesn't exist anymore, btw. Like I said before, practice makes perfect and I wasn't happy with it when I reread it. I also fell out of that fandom, so I wasn't very attached to it either. BUT this is how I got into writing and I just kept trying. For years I didn't write anything and I only started again in 2019.

I joined Tumblr and through Tumblr I found a bunch of very supportive fandom folks and sometime later I joined the HPRomione Discord. I understand your hesitation and worry considering the many talented writers in the server, but to me you couldn't find a more supportive group of people. Everyone is so helpful and as long as you respect and are considerate of people's boundaries (like smutty prompts, etc.), you are more than welcome to discuss fic ideas with us. And even if you don't want to discuss your writing, you can also talk about Romione in general, stories you read and enjoyed, and also non-fandom topics.

Don't be afraid to join and talk about your WIPs. Talking about story ideas is one of our favourite past times. As I said before, you'll find many helpful people there who would be happy to beta-read and/or go over your story idea and plot lines.

I hope my answer was helpful and if you have any more questions, send me another ask if you want 💛

Ask me anything for the 500 followers celebration!

#500 follower celebration #anon ask #ask #nelli answers #romione #hp #hp fanfic #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction

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issa-me-addy · 4 years

Text

Like The Atlantic (Reader x Bucky FLUFF)

prompt: I have that goddamn tiktok song stuck in my head ‘eyes blue like the atlantic and i'm going down like the titanic’ and while my initial thought was smut cos.... going down-- i decided i wanted to write some fluffy angsty bullshit cos i have so many more feelings for bucky barnes than smutty ones (also if you want a smutty pt 1 i could uh... i could do that heh)

A/N: I wrote this very late last night like 4am late and I’m too lazy to edit or look it over... i bet its fine lol but yeah i was in my feels and i just wanted to feel loved so enjoy <3

also heres my masterlist

warnings: uh fluff, angst, indications of sex

word count: 1364

Eyes blue like the Atlantic and I’m going down like the Titanic.

“I don’t know how to explain it, Nat. I sound like an absolute idiot, but how could I look into his stupid blue eyes and not fall in love?”

She laughs, pausing to sip her blood red wine. “Babe, you’re not an idiot. But I’m glad you’re not in denial about being in love.”

Your head rolls until it falls backwards. You can’t help but groan in response. “You are literally no help whatsoever. I cannot be in love with James Buchanan Barnes. We’ve been on like 3 dates.”

“First of all, he’s like a hundred years old, I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t interested in taking things slow. Second of all, you two already live together. The amount of proper dates is so genuinely irrelevant. And finally, I can almost guarantee he loves you back.”

You shake your head, emptying the very last drops of wine into your mouth, straight from the bottle. “You have no proof of that.”

And as if he had been standing there the whole time, Bucky’s voice filled the room, curious. “No proof of what?” He asked, as cheeky as ever, in a good mood from his evident training session, his grey t-shirt lined with sweat.

Without any warning your cheeks immediately burn red as embers. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Wow, how secretive. Now I have to know.” He did a lap around the kitchen island, grabbing and opening a wine bottle and making a beeline for the back of the couch. From behind you he grabs your glass and fills it once more before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and passing the glass back. “C’mon, doll. We can’t be keeping secrets from each other, it ain’t healthy.”

Nat takes this as her cue to leave. “I’ll leave you two alone. I have to go talk to Steve and Tony about training schedules for next week.” She was out of the room before you could blink.

Bucky let out a snicker. “For a spy, Natasha’s not all that smooth with her excuses. Now, you gonna tell me what all that was about?” He asks, brushing your hair to one side and pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“I don’t want to!” You protest, flustered and angry with Nat for leaving you with these overwhelming feelings fresh on your mind and the reason for them literally breathing down your neck.

Bucky hopped gracefully over the couch, landing beside you without spilling a drop of wine on Tony’s off-white couch. “Why not? Does it have to do with me?” The tone of his voice changed the moment he realized that you could be talking behind his back. Despite literally trusting you with his life, Bucky wasn’t completely irrational for thinking that people, even people in the Tower could be talking about him. He was an interesting character with an insane story and he was well aware of that.

Your eyes grew wide once you realized why he was suddenly so timid and you shook your head profusely. “It is about you but it's not what you’re thinking!” You explain, words spilling out so quickly you have to pause just to ensure you got them all out in the right order. “Baby, I would never tell anyone the things you tell me in confidence, not even Nat.”

He hesitated and you could hear the strain in his words. “Okay. Then, what is it you were telling her that you can’t share with me? Especially if it was about me?”

Your mind flew in a thousand different directions. Were you really going to tell this man that you started dating less than a month ago that you think you’re falling in love and fast?

You sighed not seeing a way out of this that would be fair to him other than being truthful. “I was talking about you-- More specifically, I was talking about my feelings for you.”

His pause was so long that you could almost see the gears behind his eyes turn with curiosity. “Can I ask what those feelings are?” Bucky asked after a silence much too lengthy for either of your comforts. His eyes were a deeper blue in this moment, his irises darkening as his pupils grew and darted in several directions as he examined the look on your face.

Those stupid blue eyes made your stomach fill to the brim with a feeling of safety and adrenaline mixed together. You were falling in love with Bucky so fast and so hard. The feeling was nothing short of chaos. Being in love with Bucky meant yearning to be his safe place, all the while feeling like absolutely nothing could harm you when you were laid next to him. Being in love with Bucky was never feeling afraid to talk about the things you feared, or the goals you have set for yourself, no matter how outrageous. Being in love with Bucky meant having the time of your life doing nothing but lying in the cold sand on Eastern shore after the sun had set and all the people had gone home, doing nothing but listening to the waves, looking up at the stars and feeling his thumb rub softly against your hand. Being in love with Bucky meant having someone and not ever having to think twice whether or not they’d stay. Being in love with Bucky was everything you saw when you closed your eyes and rested your head on your pillow at night. Being in love with Bucky was nothing short of ‘much more than I could ever deserve’. Being in love with Bucky was like the fear of being on the Titanic as it sunk, but the safe feeling of knowing this was exactly where you were meant to be.

You sighed, and finished the entire glass he had just poured out for you and then placed it and the bottle on the coffee table.

“Have I ever told you that you are absolutely terrifying, doll?” He chuckled, brushing your hair out of your face. A short moment had passed and you still couldn’t find the words. “You know you can tell me anything.”

You nodded and opened your mouth hesitantly. “I’m just scared that it’ll scare you off.”

He cocked his head to the side and laced your fingers with his. “That’ll be a bit difficult, darlin. I’m pretty much crazy over you.”

“You cannot say things like that to me, James!”

He laughed a bit, “Why not? It’s the truth. You’re the best goddamn thing to ever happen to me.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Both of you sat motionless, your eyes simply boring into one another’s.

Then with the hands you two were holding each other with he pulled you into him, pressing your lips together. His free hand pulled you closer, his fingers messily tangled with the hair at the nape of your neck. As you both pulled away from the kiss he held you close, your foreheads pressed together and his hand still resting on the back of your head.

“It’s a good thing that I fell in love with you the moment you walked into this tower then, eh?” He asked, a playful tone slick in his voice although it had now deepened a whole octave.

“Shut up.” You spat back at him, feeling as though he were partially making fun of you.

“Nothing can keep me from you, sweetheart. Nothing.” He reassured you, your foreheads still pressed together.

You giggled, leaning forward to press another soft kiss against his lips. “I love you, Buck.”

“I love you too.”

In one swift movement he lifted you from the couch and threw you over his shoulder, quickly making his way to his living quarters. On the way the two of you passed Nat.

“I assume he took it well?” She asked, laughing.

“I’M IN LOVE WITH THIS WOMAN.” Bucky sang down the corridor, not even giving you a moment to respond.

“You could say that!” You called out to Nat in the last second.

Then Bucky’s foot kicked his bedroom door shut.

#addy writes #like the atlantic #one shot #fluff #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #james buchanan barnes #mcu #marvel #mcu fluff #marvel fluff #reader x bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #reader x bucky barnes #angsty bullshit #i just want a love like this man

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melisusthewee · 3 years

Text

Fic - The Brothers Trevelyan (Dragon Age)

Summary: Templars, mages, and Chantry soldiers mingle uneasily in the Valley of Sacred Ashes. Among them is a single templar who doesn’t care about mage rebellions or broken Circles, and is content to stand guard and do as he’s told. Moments before the world turns itself upside down, Aloysius Trevelyan is just trying to be a good soldier while his brother Quinn seeks to stir up trouble. A look at two very different brothers and a tumultuous relationship in a place where only one of them gets to be the hero. Based again on a prompt from the DA Subreddit’s Weekly Writing Challenge.

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairings: none

Rating: G

Words: 1,367 words

Notes: Introducing the “Archers Do It With Flair” series - a collection of all the little one shots and drabbles written as part of the DA Subreddit Weekly Writing thread that quite frankly don’t fit into any larger or longer fics but serve to flesh out my world state and all the poor souls who inhabit it. (Or at least the Inquisitor.) Some will be long, some will be short, some will be smutty, and some will be... I don’t know. Stuff. And things. This one is more character introduction than anything else, but was the drabble which led to me developing Quinn and his relationship with his family more. And I’m kind of proud of that.

As always, click the link below to read this on AO3 or you can read the rest directly on Tumblr below the cut.

The Brothers Trevelyan on AO3

His relief was late. It had been nearly half an hour and Aloysius was beginning to grow hungry. Some of the other templars who had passed by his post had mentioned there was a bit of a commotion further down the mountain, something about the Champion of Kirkwall… or maybe it was someone else from that corner of the Marches… everyone he asked told it differently. In any event, it didn’t seem too relevant to active guard duty around the temple, and was no reason for his relief to be as late as they were.

Movement off to his right caught his attention, and Aloysius turned hoping to see an approaching soldier. Instead it was a mage, hurrying from some small side entrance of the temple. Aloysius frowned on instinct; seeing mages running about the place unchecked was not something he was used to. But they’d been told to stand down and not bother anyone unless something seemed suspect. And very little about the woman looked suspicious, especially when a second mage appeared shortly after her, his cheeks flushed and his robes still slightly askew.

Aloysius sighed inwardly. He was fairly certain that romantic entanglements on sacred ground was cause for discipline, but as his stomach growled he realized he had far more pressing concerns than a couple of mages sniffing around beneath each others robes.

He turned back to his diligent watch up the mountain path, hoping for any sign of an approaching figure. But once again his concentration was interrupted by the sound of a door being swiftly shut and Aloysius turned to see a familiar person appearing from where the mages had come from. He made a sound of disgust, loud enough for the person to hear. The man looked up from where he was pre-occupied buttoning up his coat and adjusting his trousers, and flashed Aloysius an arrogant grin.

“Is nothing safe from your debauchery?” he said, frowning in disapproval.

The grin wavered only for a moment as the man ran his fingers through his hair and sidled up next to Aloysius. “The Maker loves all his children, dear brother.”

Aloysius looked his younger brother up and down carefully. His cheeks were flushed and he wasn’t quite quick enough to wrap his scarf around his neck in order to hide the several telltale marks that made it very clear exactly the sort of thing he’d been up to with the mages. “I doubt the Maker gets involved in any of your business, Quinn.”

His brother looked entirely unapologetic. “How are we to know? He never speaks, no matter how loudly one calls out His name.”

Aloysius thought he was going to be sick and made a very distinct sound at the back of his throat. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Eventually,” Quinn replied, reaching into his coat and taking out a well-worn pipe. It wasn’t long before the pungent smell of smoke filled the air. Aloysius hated the smell, and his brother knew it. His brother also had likely figured out that Aloysius was on duty and therefore unable to leave despite how much both men preferred to avoid each other’s company. “Sadly, they don’t give me the exciting jobs like standing vigil on a mountain far removed from anyone of any importance.”

“Being assigned to the temple is an honour,” Aloysius said stiffly.

Quinn laughed, although Aloysius thought it sounded more like a snort. “So you’ve seen the Divine then? She’s come round to bring the blessings of Our Lady upon you? The Lord Seeker requested that Ser Trevelyan specifically guard this out of the way corner of the temple?”

“Shut up.”

Quinn looked surprised at the outburst. Yes, Aloysius was usually patient with his brother and not only because his patience often frustrated Quinn to no end, but his belly was empty and his temper short - especially in his present company. Aloysius watched as Quinn took a step back, seeming to consider him carefully in a manner that looked like there was far too much going on inside that silly blond head to be good for anyone.

“You haven’t seen the Lord Seeker, have you?” That insufferably sly smile was back on Quinn’s face.

“I’ve spoken with a Seeker,” Aloysius said, choosing his words carefully.

“But not the Lord Seeker? The one who’s supposed to be leading your side in the talks?” Aloysius began to tell Quinn how the templars were not his side and that he wasn’t invested in the ongoing war beyond whatever orders or duties his commanding officer gave him these days, but his brother wasn’t listening. “The mages hadn’t seen the Grand Enchanter either. They’d been told she was supposed to be arriving from Redcliffe, but everyone of importance is just… around… somewhere.”

“You managed to get all of that out of a couple of mages?” said Aloysius, his voice dripping with skepticism. For the first time, Quinn appeared to look genuinely offended, gesturing to himself as if the answer should have been obvious. Aloysius rolled his eyes, and went back to staring up the mountain road, praying his relief would come and give him an excuse to leave.

He heard his brother grumble something to himself, and smiled knowing that his reaction had not been the one Quinn was hoping for. For a moment, he thought that perhaps the man would leave to find some sort of entertainment elsewhere, but no such luck. Instead Quinn kicked absently at the snow with his boot, pouting like a spurned child.

“You’re grumpier than usual.”

“My relief is late,” Aloysius replied stiffly.

Quinn scratched his head, looking genuinely confused as he cast about the area, taking note of how empty their surroundings were. “You could just leave. I don’t think the Conclave is going to fall apart just because a single templar went for lunch.”

“I take my duty seriously.”

The younger man sighed dramatically. “Yes, yes, we know… darling Aloysius, pious as a saint. It wouldn’t kill you to break the rules once in a while. You might even find you enjoy it.”

“We all have our parts to play. You might consider yours sometime.”

The frown that fell upon Quinn’s face made him look an awful lot like their father. Aloysius considered that was something better kept to himself, however. It was clear that his words had touched a nerve, regardless of whether he’d intended to insult his brother or not. In retrospect, he probably should have known better. It was common knowledge among their siblings that despite their best intentions in trying to bring the youngest of them around to a respectable path, any time one of them said a word, Quinn doubled down on his embarrassing habits at the best of times, and tended to cause a scene at his worst. Aloysius wasn’t sure which one he was about to be witness to.

“Oh, believe me, I’ve considered it at great length,” Quinn said coldly, tapping the bowl of his pipe and scattering the ashes across the snow. He took a moment to stamp on them for good measure - a bit aggressively, Aloysius thought - before returning his things to his coat pocket and turning to leave. “I hope your relief arrives soon. Mother and Father would be terribly upset if they lost one of their good sons because he starved to death in the line of duty.”

He knew he should let him go. Quinn was not a child and should not be treated as such. But he was still his brother, and a Trevelyan, and ever since he’d turned up among the Chantry brothers, Aloysius knew that he was expected to try and keep him level headed and out of trouble if not for the family’s sake but for Quinn’s. But as he called after him to stop, Quinn only replied with a rude gesture and kept walking.

Well, if that’s how he wanted it then fine with him. Aloysius straightened his shoulders and settled back into his post, watching the top of the path that led back to Haven. Still no sign of his relief. And try as he might to ignore his stomach, he was becoming awfully hungry…

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #inquisitor trevelyan #melis writes stuff #oc: quinn trevelyan #oc: aloysius trevelyan

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thatesqcrush · 4 years

Text

Soul Savin', Pt. 4

Rafael Barba x Reader. AN: Taking a lot of liberties and using a lot of prompts and part of a challenge here, specifically: @madpanda75‘s “from your smutty prompt list, can you please do “Friends don’t do this kind of shit!” where Barba and the reader go to a bar, have some tequila, then do some body shots” as well as @delia26′s “I turned out liking your a lot more than I originally planned.” Finally, using Jewel’s “Who Will Save Your Soul” as part of @thefanficfaeriebirthday challenge.

CW: language, some parts NSFW. Some dub-con, because they’re buzzed,angst, continued slow-burning. Flashbacks are indicated with italics.

AN: Please forgive any typos. Again, writing through grief is weird AF. I’m trying my best.

WC: 2600

Rafael signaled for the bartender. Six shot glasses were lined up. You each lifted a shot glass. “For Sean,” you proudly exclaimed.

“For Y/N, the best detective and friend a man could ask for. Well done today.” Rafael returned. You gave him a toothy smile and clinked your glass with his.

“Otra vez.”

Rafael nodded and lifted his shot glass, and quickly tossed it back before tuning the glass upside down on the bar top.

You gave him a small head nod and did the same; you both repeated the same with the two remaining glasses. The endorphins from the honeytrap mixed with the buzz from the alcohol was making you feel warm; your inhibitions were starting to fade. You didn’t care for the consequences – all that mattered was that you wanted Rafael and were tired of keeping your feelings at bay. Desire was bubbling at the surface, ready to spill over like a pot of boiled liquid.

You made your decision. You asked the bartender for the bottle of tequila, salt and limes.

“What are we doing? Body shots?” Rafael laughed, his eyes crinkling.

“Yeah, what of it? Lets live a little,” you stated. “Have you ever done a body shot?”

Rafael didn’t immediately respond and you squealed with delight. “Oh, this is going to be fun!”

You reached over and grabbed Rafael’s hand and ran your tongue on the back of his hand, just below his index finger. Rafael’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched you pour the salt on his skin. You ran your tongue over the salty skin and then knocked the shot back. You grabbed a lime wedge and bit down, sucking on the lime juice. You gave Rafael a smile, with the lime wedge in your mouth before removing it, dissolving into a fit of giggles. “Your turn.”

Rafael let out a shaky breath. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. You unzipped the zipper of your very oversized sweatshirt slightly, and shimmied the material off slightly. You pushed your hair back and tilted your neck, exposing your skin.

Rafael’s eyes darkened at your exposed skin. His mind flashed to earlier in the evening, as he watched you shake your shit all over the strip club, like you owned the place. His cock twitched again and he decided to give into his desire.

Rafael stood and took a step closer to you. He helped you stand up, and he wrapped his arm around your waist, bringing you closer. You were millimeters apart. His large hands were soft and warm and he gently tilted your head. Skin exposed, he lowered his face to your neck. Your skin, which was still covered in body glitter, smelled like warm vanilla. He quietly groaned before taking a long broad swipe along your neck. You moaned and it was euphoria in Rafael’s ears. He pulled back, shook the salt shaker onto your skin, and resumed his actions. You squirmed in Rafael’s embrace, biting your lip hard to prevent you from obscenely moaning. As Rafael sucked a mark into your neck, you gasped, “Friends don’t do this kind of shit!”

“Then I guess we were never friends,” Rafael husked in your ear, before pulling away to toss the shot back. Rafael slammed the glass down on the bar top. You grabbed Rafael’s face with your hands; his five o’clock shadow prickled your palms. On wobbly tip-toes you stood and pulled him into a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss was intense, all teeth and tongue clashing against one another, desperate and hungry. Finally, Rafael pulled away and you briefly whined at the lost connection. The dark look in his eyes sent an involuntary shiver up your spine.

“Let’s get out of here.” You requested.

“Are you sure?” Rafael asked. ‘Please say yes, please say yes.’

You stepped closer to him and placed a small kiss on the corner of his lips. “Yes guapo.”

Rafael let out a shaky breath. He hadn’t been called guapo by someone significant since Yelina and hearing you call him that made his heart skip a beat.

“If we want to get out of here, I have to pay the tab.” Rafael murmured returning your small kiss with a small kiss of his own. He signaled for the bartender.

“I’ll get us a cab.” You offered, nodding your head to the door. “I’ll see you outside.”

You shivered while you tried to hail a cab. It was warmer earlier, but it had cooled off substantially. The city smelled like petrichor and the street glistened as it had rained earlier. Just as you were about to just give up and call an Uber, a yellow taxi-cab slowed down and pulled up.

You opened the door and poked your head in. “Just waiting on someone.” The driver nodded and you leaned against the side as you waited for Rafael.

Rafael burst out and looked frantically side to side, and you could feel the sigh of relief he exhaled as he noticed you. He quickly strode over and cupped your face with one hand. His other hand settled on your hip. Wordlessly, he captured your lips with his once more. You let out a sigh as he sucked your bottom lip. The kiss continued for another five seconds before you were interrupted by the cab driver.

“Are you two getting in or am I wasting my fucking time?”

You both jumped and you felt your cheeks grow warm. “We’re coming – hold your damn your horses, Jesus fucking Christ!”

Rafael chuckled at your outburst. The driver huffed and Rafael rolled his eyes as he entered the cab after you. Rafael rattled off his address and you felt a mixture of relief and excitement to be going to his place, versus yours.

The streetlamps were a blur as the cab sped towards downtown. The entire ride was filled with the two of you kissing, desperate for each other’s touch. You rubbed his thigh through his pants and Rafael nuzzled your neck. The heady scent of his cologne invigorated your senses. Rafael’s lips ghosted along your skin and your pussy throbbed against the confines of your jeans. You were already so aroused, and nothing had even started yet. Rafael couldn’t wait to show you how much he wanted you – to feel you. His pants felt tights and he was desperate to relieve the ache that had settled.

Music on the radio played quietly. If you had truly listened, you would have realized that “Who Will Save Your Soul” was playing.

Who will save your soul when it comes to the flowers now Who will save your soul after all the lies that you told, boy And who will save your souls if you won't save your own?

The cab finally came to a stop. The cab driver barked at the two of you, causing you to both jump. Rafael apologized and handed the driver a large bill, well covering the ride plus tip and then some.

“Mr. Barba, good evening. Welcome home. Ms. Y/N, lovely to see you again.” The doorman greeted.

Rafael coughed slightly, trying to regain some composure. “Good evening Anthony.”

You gave Anthony a small smile and wave, murmuring a hello; you allowed Rafael to grab your hand and let him lead you in.

You both tumbled into his apartment. Lips still connected, Rafael used his leg to slam the door shut behind him. Hands were everywhere, desperate and eager to touch one another’s flesh. One of Rafael’s hands slipped under the hem of your sweatshirt and traveled upwards. He was extra cautious with his movements, as he knew your side was bruised from being kicked earlier. As he made his way to a breast, he was pleasantly surprised to learn you were bra-less. His hand cupped and squeezed one globe, before moving onto the other. With his thumb and index fingers, Rafael rolled and tugged at your nipples, until they were hardened pebbles.

“Too many clothes.” You managed to say breathlessly in between kisses. Rafael nodded and pulled away. You were both breathless from your intense kissing session. You reached for the hem of your sweatshirt and flipped it over your head before moving your hands down to your jeans and unzipping them. You kicked off your shoes, before pushing your pants off. Rafael followed suit – shoes, shirt, then pants. Rafael’s gaze traveled over your body and lewdly, stroked himself through his boxers.

With a growl, Rafael was upon you once more, his lips crashing against yours. You whimpered as you opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to enter. As your tongues tangled, Rafael’s hands traveled to your thighs. He gave them a squeeze before lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he carried you towards his bedroom. You collapsed onto the bed, a tangled mess of limbs and Rafael rolled you, so he was on top. You hissed slightly, the pain from your ribs, were sobering to not just you, but to Rafael too.

Rafael propped himself up, his arms along side your head and he looked at you, his face full of concern.

“Y/N “ he began, his voice somber. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

You leaned up and pressed a hand onto his chest, pushing him off you. Rafael sat on his haunches while you sat up fully. “Wait – why? Don’t you want this?” After a pregnant pause, you continued, your voice low, near a whisper. “Don’t you want me?”

Rafael leaned over to press a gentle kiss on your lips and then rested his forehead against yours. “I do – believe me I do. But you’re hurt and we have both been drinking.”

You bit your lip and nodded slowly, feeling your cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. “Okay. I’ll just get dressed and go.”

You began to move but an outstretched arm stopped you. You looked over your shoulder at him.

“Stay the night. Please.” Rafael implored, his eyes searching yours. You wanted to, so badly. Part of you hesitated to wonder if in the morning Rafael would still be interested or if this would be chalked up to a mistake of too much alcohol. You had a feeling the friendship was effectively ruined. But you were a consummate professional and even if your friendship was ruined, you would not let it get in the way of work.

“Y/N… please. Say something.”

Your eyes flickered past Rafael’s shoulder to the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was late and your buzz was starting to fade into exhaustion. You weren’t wild about really leaving at such a late hour, even if you were only a few blocks away. You agreed and internally decided to make sure to leave before Rafael woke up in the morning.

Rafael pulled you into a soft kiss. “I’ll get you something to wear.” The bed creaked as he stood and he made his way to his drawer, where he pulled out a pair of sweatpants, which he quickly slipped on. Rafael fussed a bit more, looking for something you to wear. He eventually produced his old Harvard Law t-shirt and gave it to you.

Rafael climbed back into bed and you snuggled on his chest where sleep befell you both.

The next morning you woke up to the smell of coffee and cinnamon. From a distance you could hear music in the background. You winced as you sat up. Sunlight pored into the bedroom through the curtain and you raised your arm over your head in an attempt to block the light. You looked to the left and noticed Rafael wasn’t in bed. You glanced at the clock – it was 9:15 A.M. You were appalled that you slept in and did not get to sneak out. At the corner of the bed were your clothes piled neatly.

“There’s my answer.” You mumbled to yourself. Your stomach growled and you made a mental note to grab something on the way home. You took off Rafael’s shirt and slipped your clothes back on. Your sweatshirt reeked of booze and you crinkled your nose in disgust.

“Just play cool – say Olivia called and you had to come in after all.” You told yourself. “Totally believable.”

“What’s believable?”

You jumped, startled. You turned around and found Rafael in the doorway, an amused look on his face. He stood shirtless, his sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips. You felt your mouth go dry as you drank him in. You noticed one hand was balled in a fist and the other, held a glass of water.

“I – I – uh, good morning Rafael.”

“I figured you could use this – for the hangover and your ribs,” Rafael continued as he dropped two pills in your hand. “I have coffee in the kitchen, and I was about to order some food.”

You mumbled your thanks and took the painkillers. Rafael watched you intently as you chugged your water. You wiped your mouth on the sleeve of your sweatshirt and thrust the glass back into this hand. “Thanks for letting me stay the night. I should go.”

“Look, I know last night wasn’t ideal.” Rafael protested, setting the glass down. “But I meant what I said. I want you. I turned out liking you a lot more than I originally planned.”

You cocked your head, studying his expression in a veiled attempt to eek out anything that would indicate what he was saying wasn’t truthful. “Come.” Rafael outstretched his hand and nodded his head towards the living room.

You took Rafael’s hand and allowed him to lead the way. “I should have done this that night you were here – when I invited you to hear my closing.” Rafael looked through his vinyl collection, quickly finding the record he was looking for. You instantly recognized the cover to the record as the one you chose. Rafael waited for the turntable platter to stop spinning before he gently removed it and returned it to its cover. Finally, Rafael set the new record to play and Moonlight began to play.

Rafael returned to you and took you into his arms. He caressed your face gently, pushing your hair away from your face. “I should have kissed you that night. And every night before then and every night after. I shouldn’t have waited.” Rafael lowered his face and brushed his lips against yours. You felt your heart swell at his proclamation and eagerly returned his kiss. His stubble prickled your skin and you lasciviously wondered what it would feel like in between your legs.

Your tongues gently rolled over one another’s as you each explored the caverns of your mouths. You moaned slightly and Rafael took the cue to deepen the kiss. Your hands ran up and down his defined arms, before running down to his sides. Rafael nipped your bottom lip and sucked it in between his teeth, causing you to moan.

Rafael moved back to your neck, focusing his ministrations on a particularly sensitive spot. You ran your hands into his hair and gripped tightly as he sucked a mark into your neck. You whimpered as he used the tip of his tongue to soothe the bruised spot.

“Still have to go?” Rafael asked breathless, his voice hopeful as he pulled away. He beamed inwardly with pride at the hickey that was beginning to develop.

You shook your head, smirking. “No.”

“Good. I want to have breakfast and I bet you’re just delicious.”

You laughed heartily at his comment and then squealed as he picked you up, hoisting you over his shoulder and leading you back to his bedroom.

TBC.

Tags: @melsquared79 @madpanda75 @youreverycolor @tropes-and-tales @neely1177 @the-baby-bookworm @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @delia26 @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolon @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoollike @fanficfaeriesrafaelbarbalibrary @theenchantedgalleryofstories @thefanficfaerie @trekinthruthestarwars @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty -anyone else, just ask, xo

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