#it’s very tiring having to read through a message written in this kind of opposites day code and have to translate it to yourself first

[cats-in-the-clouds]

it’s important to try very hard to be as patient and understanding and reasonable as possible and i tell myself aw c’mon how hard can it really be to just chill out and be nice? but every now and it hits me again how we’re all being subjected to a mass gaslighting campaign and then i’m like ah that’s why i’m exhausted deep in my soul all the time. i’m being made to think i’m utterly insane for wanting words to have actual meanings so maybe that makes me a bit cranky y’know

[cooki3face]

why are they silent?

message: I’m feeling called to do this reading so I’m doing it. My posting and content schedule was literally all planned out and organized but I am unfortunately the embodiment of chaos however organized so now everything is all jumbled up. I think I’d love to have a little schedule and do all these wonderful things but I don’t believe that it’s really indefinitely the right direction for me to go in. I’m naturally spontaneous, I kind of go against the grain and go my own way all the time naturally and have done so since I was a child and so I think it’s time I live in my reality and find some acceptance here lol. I’m in the process of working through my drafts I have countless readings set up to be written and posted that I haven’t even tackled yet. Well anyways, hope this brings you peace and clarity.

***

i.

Guys, *deep dramatic sigh”, this person has a lot to say. I can’t stop channeling. It’s running through me like water lol. You could’ve stopped speaking to this person, cut them off, or cut them off from your energy all together here. Someone feels like something is incredibly unfair or unjust. They may feel like the world or the most high is against them and they feel like you slipping away from them is a manifestation of what it means to hit rock bottom. But , I don’t see you able to romanticize this, this person, this behavior, their feelings for you (any longer) you’ve expanded much too big or experienced what it means to be valued and you’re never going back there or you simply don’t resonate with this at this time.

channeled:

teenage dirt bag

I smoked away my brain- asap rocky

“Lowlife energy”

Disrespectful/disrespect

Peter Pan syndrome

“I don’t want to grow up.”

Catalyst

Life lessons

“Bigger than me” “you’re bigger than me.” “Larger than life.”

“It’s above me now.” “It’s out of my hands.”

Looking to the moon for answers

666- “a reminder to refocus and find balance in your life.” “a positive and transformative message from the celestial realm, representing self-discovery and spiritual essence.”

777- “linked to self-discovery and personal growth” “a signal to get present with what's going on between you and your significant other”

8891- “centers around personal growth and development”

786- “centers around personal growth and development” “healing and self-care. This number encourages you to take time for yourself and to focus on your own well-being”

**the angel numbers were insane, confirmation on confirmation***

Temptation

“The devil”

Forbidden fruit

Forbidden love

Unrequited. Unrequited love

“Are you finished with me?”

“Can I be your shadow?”

“Within you.”

Karmic cycles

Mirror

“See you again” -Tyler the creator, kali uchis

“Can I get a kiss? And can you make it last forever? Because, I’m about to go to war and I don’t know if im going to see you again.”

“La la la” “ok ok ok”

Feminine/masculine

Opposites

Ends of the spectrum

Redbone- childish gambino

***

Someone is coming to a conclusion about you and about themselves through you. I get mirror energy here this could be twin flame connection that you’re keeping small here. There’s imagery of someone trying to blow out a candle, or a flame that’s flickering and small. It’s not being fed. A fire that’s dying. Whomever this person is, they’re receiving their karma for who they were to you, for not making the right decisions, for being disrespectful, for stumbling through life like it’s a joke. Your spirit guides, ancestors, deities, the divine, stand behind you so fiercely. Someone is feeling some sort of wrath here for who they were to you or what they’ve done to you. I just heard, “you’ll know loss.” Someone is going to have to rise out of the ashes like a phoenix, exorcise parts of them that have kept them stuck, be physically pulled away from karmic cycles and habits. Someone says, “they aren’t learning. They aren’t moving.”

They’re feeling very restless and burnt out here. Someone’s tired of fighting. Someone’s being brought to their knees. “I hear you haven’t seen or felt rock bottom yet.” I even hear an ancestor saying, “watch this.” I’m getting the imagery of very divine and large beings sitting in a row of chairs. Almost like the last supper or the imagery of it and looking down on what’s happening attentively. This person is undergoing large heart chakra openings or having an awakening here. The imagery of the ace of swords gives me the energy of someone pulling a sword from the earth, after it’s been buried for ages. Someone is finally picking up their sword or stepping into their power here. But I see you being completely inattentive to this here. If you’re even reading this right now this is a privilege to them to have you sit and see what it is they’re going through. Someone’s not available and has made themselves unavailable or out of reach.

This person is so stubborn, they’re hard headed, and they’ve sorted planted themselves firmly in their place and have refused to move. They’re obsessed with status or are obsessed with keeping up some sort of facade or reputation to protect themselves or make them appear invulnerable, heartless, reckless and damaging. This person could like to fight, could be someone whose met with a lot of criticism or always is pushing up against or things. Using or manipulating some sort of influence. I see you coming to terms with this person and not resonating with who they are and not seeing any admirable qualities within this person any longer. This person is going to have to fight their way through the thick of the situation that they’ve built for themselves, undergoing inner purging, arising out of karmic cycles, disconnecting from karmic connections in all sorts and shapes.

This person is avoiding making hard decisions and setting themselves apart from others and owning up to their mistakes and actions. Something about this persons lack of accountability may trigger deep childhood wounds within you of some sort or be a pet peeve that you dislike very intensely in others that you now dislike very intensely within them. This person has to make a choice. The right one this time after a long time of playing games with the divine and playing games within the lives of others. They’re going to have to be reborn and undergo immense transformation and change. And this is what is going on. There’s a massive tower moment in store for them they you won’t be there for or won’t be a bystander in. This is for them to experience all on their own. It’s very likely that you may find this persons demise satisfying or be apathetic towards their hard ship at this time, I almost typed heart ship. You may be apathetic toward their internal conflict and heartbreak as well. It’s a long time coming I heard.

Someone is allowing the scales to be balanced out and protecting themselves by being nowhere near this incoming explosion or tower moment. They won’t be stepping in, helping to protect this person from their karma, or hiding this person away from their shadows. I’m getting imagery of the shadow man or Dr. facilliers death in the princess and the frog. This person is so unattractive to you right now. After a long time potentially of being your wish fulfillment and end all be all.

Messages:

“ I’m scared somebody will take you from me.”

“ I let others interfere with our connection.”

“Go back to our spot.”

“I want to call/text you, but I’m afraid you won’t answer.”

“The warmth of your hands keeps my insecurities away.”

“Don’t give my love to anybody else.”

“I was too stubborn to admit that you were my person.”

“I need closure from you.”

***

ii.

everything is okay pile two, you can relax. You may feel tension in your neck, your back, and feel a lack of energy in your legs or have some leg pain. You’re purging energies, undergoing transformation, and getting ready to accept more gifts and more happiness. Make sure you prioritize your rest, your eating and your overall health. The color blue could be significant, beige or light shades of brown, the color white, doves, crows, cats, and spiders. Snakes as well. If you feel lost, answers are on the way. If you feel alone and/or abandoned, spirit is always standing with you and protecting you. Spirit will not allow you to be mislead, be hurt, or be put in situations that will destroy you. Your spirit guides and ancestors commend you. I hear round of applause, whistling, and chants of encouragement. I actually left and took my ass to bed after pile one because pile one’s energy was crazy asl, I actually know pile one in real life. Bless their heart for real. ANYWAYS!!

channeled:

Tangled up in you- the Alton’s

Heart to heart- Mac Demarco

Let’s stay together- al green

Tell it like it is- Aaron Neville

I put a spell on you- Nina Simone

Fade into you- mazzy star

Relaxation

Inner peace

Fulfillment

222 - you’re on the right path. “signifies good fortune in finances, relationships, and career, as well as a reminder to work towards your soul's purpose.” “symbolize balance, harmony, and spiritual alignment” “the time has come for you to be more self-reflective, and focused on the duality of situations”

444 - your spirit guides are protecting and supporting you. “conveys a powerful message of love, support, and guidance from your angels”

22 - “welcome balance, wisdom, and divine transformation into your life.”

12 - “something in your life has been completed, and it's time to turn your attention away from the past and look into the future.”

896 - personal growth & development. “896 encourages you to put your devotion and efforts towards your spiritual passions and interests, in turn, manifesting abundance and plenty into your life”

888 - “positive flow, abundance, and rewards are coming your way.” “Stay open to abundance in whatever form it appears, not just what we expect or want”

8 - infinite possibilities

0 - “the number 0 is ultimately about unconditional love. "The force of love is around you all the time, taking the form of other people, opportunities, and even moments of clarity”

65 - “Angel Number 65 is giving you a message from the guardian angels that your efforts to transform and improve your life are being appreciated by the divine energies.”

100 - “symbol of new beginnings, manifestation, and spiritual guidance.” “aligning oneself with eternity while finding balance between our inner world and outer reality so that true harmony may exist within us.”

110 - “it’s time to manifest your dreams.”

Sleep

Relaxation

Careful consumption of media

Deciding on morals & boundaries

Candles

Journaling

Shadow work

Smoke cleansing

Water cleansing

Detox

Rejuvenation

Chrysalis

Hibernation

Mother Nature

Mother Earth

The Moon

Menstrual cycle

Divine feminine energy

The metaphysical

Inner child

Inner compass

Erykah badu

***

pile two… this person.. this person.. I’m so obsessed. This person is open and genuine. They may have expressed to you so much already but anything their withholding is more and further confirmation of deeper feelings and desire to do more for you and offer you more love and more peace. You may be in a relationship with this person, this gives committed relationship vibes, it doesn’t give situationship vibes, nothing is in the air, there’s no dust kicked up or fog that’s obstructing the clarity of the situation. It is what the two of you say it is, it looks like exactly what it is. It sounds like exactly what it is, devotion. Amy winehouse “love is a losing game” just came on, I have it playing on my tv and I just turned it up because it’s playing so quietly all of a sudden when my volume is already high and everything else was loud and clear.

It kind of gives me the impression that anything within the energy of loss and heartbreak is over and silenced. Spirit is covering your ears and covering your eyes to perspectives and ideas that aren’t in alignment with this connection and the love you share. The song just ended, “tell it like it is” just came on, blaring loud I was like 🫨🫨🫨. This person is a real man or a real woman. They’re ready to love you, to give you everything. They’re asking that you be honest and bare your soul and tell me them how you feel. Pride aside, fear aside. This person loves you beyond the fear and ego. I’m getting sensual energy, it’s deep and it’s passionate lol I feel like someone is squeezing my heart right now. This person applies pressure or they really get you riled up. I’m feeling all of this persons feelings. I hear my heart in my ears, you know those chills you get when you listen to oldies, the blues, or that STANK face you make when you feel something deep in your spirit. This person is in your spirit, coursing through your veins right now lol. I haven’t even began reading through the cards. UGH! Unhand me immediately!!!

This is like an intensely passionate saxophone solo. If this person is silent in any way, it’s because they’re trying to take action in their lives to get themselves in a position to show you how much they love you in a material and physical aspect. They already have laid out so much love for you to have but they want to give you more. They want to over fill your cup. They fill your cup. Your cup is full but I keep hearing “more.” I’m seeing imagery here of a divine masculine giving you everything in his pockets or anything that he has and carries with him. For some of you this is a divine masculine energy. They know your love and devotion isn’t free and isn’t cheap. They’re willing to put it all on the line. They’re even becoming more enlightened spiritually. I see the imagery of the five of pentacles and one of the men on the card is looking up the sky here. This person is looking to the heavens behind you, looking to the divine, to the moon, to spirit. Showing their gratitude, asking for and manifesting success for them to give you, asking for and manifesting safety and protection over this connection.

This person is not undecided about you, they’ve made a decision. They have some self doubt about how well they’ll be able to show up for you or how able they will be to provide you with everything you deserve because they smell your divinity, they wouldn’t do wrong by you, betray you, or give you less than what you deserve. I’m hearing “don’t” by Bryson tiller. This person feels sorry for your exes. This person is ready to give you everything and do anything on your behalf and it only gets more intense everyday. This person is in their bag or about to be, making plans for the two of you, planning a future for the two of you, making decisions and making choices behind you and your influence and your presence in their life. Financial choices, spiritual choices, emotional choices.

This person is thinking of all the things the two of you can do together or build together it’s their primary focus. Any of this persons silence is them exercising self restraint or making room for you or for this connection to unfold and blossom naturally. They want you to feel safe and feel valued despite how passionate they feel or how much they want to envelope you in all of their love and desire. This person is levitating right now. They often feel they have to take moments to pull back and gather up their energy and bring themselves down from a high or an obsessive part of them that feels driven to you.

This person, in their silence, is constantly thinking about more ways to be honest with you, value your boundaries, express their own, communicate their feelings to you. This person wants to earn your trust and your devotion.

messages:

“ save the date.”

“ will you marry me?”

This person is most definitely thinking long term commitment, sees you as someone who could be their wife or husband. Wants to live harmoniously with you and have you for a long time ❤️

“you’re a witch.”

This person feels as though you have so much power over them. They constantly feel your influence. You could be into witchcraft or be into spirituality and manifestation and they believe in your power and divinity wholeheartedly. They don’t doubt you.

“You have so much power over me.”

“Healing my mother wound.”

You could’ve brought to light some maternal issues within this person or opened their eyes to the gravity of a situation regarding their mother.

“Sending you all my love.”

“You have my undivided attention.”

“Open your heart to me. Let me in.”

“Please wait for me.”

***

iii.

This reading is being done in such immensely high and free floating energy. Someone is relaxing into something or surrendering, I’m getting imagery of someone being fully submerged into something warm or something with healing properties or that has the intention of transforming and rejuvenating them and restoring magic within the spirit. I’m getting Steve lacy - infrunami. Someone was hiding in plain sight here or may have been hiding away on purpose but the both of you are being met with true devotion from one another. There’s a lot of passion and longing I’m feeling. Someone misses someone or has plans to come to someone and be near them. Spirit is telling me, “I’m giving you space to miss one another or come to terms with who one another really are and what you meant to one another after a long time of being right underneath each others noses” there’s this energy of truths being revealed, the light or divinity in someone or the both of you being revealed. Someone within this collective may be drawn to pile two or have messages in two piles.

channeled:

Love on the brain - Rihanna

Infrunami - Steve Lacy

Tears dry on their own - Amy winehouse

Mercy mercy - Marvin Gaye

Let’s stay together - Al Green

Wet dreamz - J. Cole

CPR - Summer Walker

Trust - Brent Faiyaz

(There is) no greater love - amy winehouse

Just another interlude- Bryson tiller

Glory box- Portishead

Wholeness

Accepting love

Energy of recieving

Gifts

Divine timing

Divine plan

“Proud of you.”

Appreciation

Music

66 - “a powerful symbol of balance and harmony.”

67 - “you are on the right path and to keep going.” “prosperity and good fortune are on their way.”

68 - “your angels are encouraging you to take a leap of faith and start something new”

88 - “great success, abundance, and prosperity.” “ This number's presence is a positive sign for matters of the heart, often associated with the abundance of love and blessings.”

99 - “spiritual growth and awakening” “it confirms that your bond is based on mutual respect, understanding, and love. But, there's always an opportunity to enter a new phase of even deeper connection.”

600 - “Your material security and wellbeing are protected. Balance, harmony, and stability in your relationships. Spiritual growth and higher understanding.”

666 - “ a positive and transformative message from the celestial realm, representing self-discovery and spiritual essence”

789 - “number centers around healing and self-care. This number encourages you to take time for yourself and to focus on your own well-being. It serves as a reminder that it's important to make sure your emotional, physical, and spiritual health are all taken care of.”

884 - “ a powerful reminder that you should stay open to what life brings your way. It's time to trust that everything is happening for a reason. The angels are reminding you to stay in alignment with your heart and soul. If you do, the universe will aspire to bring you what you need.”

200 - “conveys a message of hope and optimism for your future endeavors”

211 - “guides us to maintain balance and harmony within our relationships.” “a positive omen that learning to trust yourself will set you free”

Equal give & take

Space to be yourself

Satisfaction

Overcoming fears

Emotional stability

Messages/calls

Abundance

Self-care

Singing

Throat chakra

Chakra activation

Kundalini activation

Intense physical & emotional intimacy

Support

Devotion

Red roses

Vinyl records

1970s

History

***

This person is carrying with them a lot of emotional stress and burdens here but I also see them carrying themselves almost. Like they’re trying to hold themselves back from coming face to face with you on a deep and personal level. This person is having hard time and is tired and a little burnt out from feeling as though they have to suppress their devotion or their love for you. This person is incredibly attached to you as well as sexually attracted to you. They may hide from you or try to create space between the two of you so that you won’t see just how much they like you or how much they want to be with you, how much they want to be intensely intimate with you. This person overthinks a lot, they’re an anxious person and they’re afraid of embarrassing themselves in front of you or disappointing you. This person also feels like they might inconvenience you greatly by being authentic with you due to past connections and heart break that made them seem or feel like they weren’t important or valued or weren’t owed loyalty or devotion because of the way they were when they they showed up honestly. This persons needs weren’t met and their nervous system is in overdrive trying to overcome their fear of being close to someone again despite how much they love they hold for you in their heart.

Someone in this persons past may have gaslit them or told them that they weren’t as special as they advertised themselves to be or that their love and support wasn’t genuine or wasn’t worth fighting for or sticking around for or their portrayed this to them through actions. This person has been tired, carrying a lot of tension in their bodies, or are burnt out from how much energy it takes for them to keep themselves from you. Heard the worst by Jhene aiko, not necessarily the whole entire song but “I don’t need you but I want you.” And “I don’t mean to, but I love you.” But this person, they’re afraid, because they think that they love you but are afraid to tell you or reveal their love to you through words and action. This person feels as though you’re meant for them and they constantly feel the need to apologize for pushing you away or holding off from you out of fear.

This person adores you, they care for you genuinely, and they feel they’ve been blessed with and given divine love. You may come as a surprise to this person, you catch them off guard, or appeal to them in a profound way due to past experiences. I hear this person hoping and wishing that nothing takes you away from them. This person is in a constant state of healing and transformation in order to accept you. Manifesting their fear away, taking steps to let you see them, practicing putting down their weapons, leaving their past in the past, and breaking down the walls they’ve built around themselves in order to call and manifest true love and now you’ve arrived and the walls are ready to come crashing down. This person is reprioritizing things within their life as well. They could’ve had to shift into their dark feminine energy if this is a feminine energy. This person could’ve had to remove people from their lives, undergo a lot of purging, awakening and healing in order to put themselves in their divinely ordained position to receive love and love themselves.

This person is coming to terms with the fact that the worst is over and they won’t have to fight anymore and that they can fall into you finally and be taken care of and loved correctly. They’re in the process of coming to terms with the fact that the past is in the past and they no longer have to revisit it or hold onto it. That they’re safe. That nothing else can harm them any longer.

messages:

“Every song reminds me of you.”

“You taught me what real love is.”

“Divine masculine.”

you represent true masculine energy to this person. True divine masculine energy. Especially if you identify as the divine masculine within this connection.

“You have a lot of heart.”

“Lover.”

“I’m sorry I pushed you away. I didn’t understand you, I didn’t understand my feelings.”

“Forgive me.”

“My souls purpose is to love you & be loved by you.”

*double confirmation about spending time apart.*

***

Hope this served you right and brought you Justice and true clarity! I enjoyed curating this reading, thank you for co-creating my reading by being apart of the beautiful collective, by loving my work, by being patient with me! You are so loved and valued. ❤️!

[wordsgood]

this long post is originally posted on my writing blog, random pattern generator.

I don’t remember where, but I came across some article about how to write blog posts if you’re trying to grow your authorial platform. Of course you have to write about writing, but, according to the article, no one wants to read about what you’re writing. You have to write advice posts for the readers, instead.

I might have advice that people would want to hear if I already had a book or two published, or if I already had some kind of platform. But since I don’t have either of those things, what do I have to give anyone besides the kind of generic advice that thirty people have already written about in actual books about writing, and that 300 people have already blogged about for free? Characterization, in media res, save the cat, five tips to make your villain more formidable? I don’t have anything of substance to add to these conversations. I’m not a beginner by any means, but I haven’t achieved the kind of success that would make me qualified to advise anyone.

Except, maybe, in one area: the “does my writing really matter?” area. Not that I’m hugely successful there, either, but I’ve gotten over a pretty rough dry spell in the past few years. I thought I’d lost my calling for good, but here I am, a year or two later, keeping a spreadsheet of my various WIPs’ daily word counts. That’s a comeback story of sorts. That might count for something.

I don’t think it would be honest of me to comfort anyone, though.

The thing about having this question - “am I worthy of this craft that I love?” - leeching uncertainty, self-hatred, and lethargy into your atmosphere is that, in my experience, no one can answer it for you. It makes you think you need validation from other people. And, of course, it never hurts to have people in your corner; you may need other people’s words to keep you hydrated while you cross the desert. But no one can carry you across. There is no Sam Gamgee for this particular trek. It’s just you and whatever god you own.

You can receive the kindest, most well-meaning, supportive words, and there’s every chance in the world that they’ll dry up in your ears before they can ever reach your head. The Question has locked you up like a princess in a castle or Amontillado in the wall or Ariel in the pine and there might not be anything that can reach you until you erase the question mark for yourself.

I won’t pretend that’s easy. It took me a long time and a couple very hard conversations before I finally got out of the desert.

Right here is where the script dictates: But I broke through anyway. All it took was trying hard enough, long enough - I will not elucidate what ‘trying’ means; Just Do It - and now I’m free and happy and whenever I doubt myself now I just look back on how I beat The Question already and it doesn’t have any power over me anymore, and all you need to do is keep trying, too, like me.

This is where I’m supposed to say, It’s hard work, but it’s worth the effort.

Screw that. It wasn’t worth the effort. Nothing is worth how much and how long I let The Question hurt me and hold me down. I’m not far enough out of the desert to pretend like I’m fine now, that it doesn’t still hurt even when I’m finishing novels and getting my 1-5 kudos per week on AO3. Some part of me died in the desert and it’s not coming back.

So, no, I’m not going to tell you - should you be uncertain, desperate, hurting, empty, any or all of the above - that I think your pain is only temporary or that your struggle is worth it. If that’s what you need to hear, you can find other people who will be happy to pass on that message. If you need to hear that all you’ve got to do is just keep trying, just keep going, just keep hoping and believing, you’ve come to the wrong place. When I was in the desert, hearing that kind of encouragement was the opposite of encouraging. I was tired. I had already spent months or years trying, going, hoping. I’m sure, now, that the effort wasn’t made in vain, but hearing that I had to keep trying to get where I wanted to be - well, there’s an or else hidden at the end of that sentence. That was the encouragement of someone who’d already made it out of the desert and was floating by in a hot air balloon, having forgotten how it felt to have your feet in the sand and a sword over your head. Keep going, or else. I’m not a child, I wanted to tell them. I’m no writing noob. What do you think I’ve been doing but trying? What else have I been sobbing over my keyboard about?

Here’s the only thing that gave me an inch of peace: T.S. Eliot and the book of Leviticus.

T.S. Eliot may be obvious - I’ve already made at least a couple blog posts about how I basically live my creative life by Four Quartets - but Leviticus is a little newer. Not the whole of the book, but, specifically, the concept of the year of Jubilee, every fiftieth year, the year of release. And specifically the part of the year of Jubilee that deals with letting fields lay unsown. You let the land alone. You let it lie fallow. Don’t touch a spade or toss a seed. “It shall be holy to you”: a holy abandonment.

You can try for as long as you can hold out, but you may well reach a point at which it doesn’t matter. The tank is empty, the field is dry, the stone is out of blood. You have to stop trying or you’ll break something vital, like a bone or your faith in yourself.

You know what’s coming now:

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love, For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting. Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing. Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning. The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry, The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony Of death and birth.

Darkness and stillness will be the light and the dancing. Your neurons will flash again in the darkness and your thoughts will dance again in the stillness. The seed will grow when it’s buried like the dead.

That’s what got me across the line in the sand: the idea that I didn’t have to keep trying. I didn’t have to prove what I was or what I wanted. My God knew that already; in some deep place, so did I. None of that mattered, though, when I had given all I had to give. Some people may be, but I am not a bottomless well, and I’d drunk myself dry. I didn’t need to try harder or work longer; I needed to exist without effort, so that the well could refill. I needed to wait, not with hopelessness, but without hope. Even hope takes up precious energy that you need just to put one foot in front of the other.

I needed to spend months doing crafts with my hands, reading books and watching movies and shows and listening to music and looking at nature, not trying to write. I didn’t need platitudes about how everything would eventually work out, because that would be hope for the wrong thing. I needed rest. I needed to lie fallow.

That’s the thing about The Question. Am I worthy of this craft that I love? cannot and will not be answered definitively by other people. It can barely be answered by you. If you thought the answer was yes, you wouldn’t be asking. If the answer were no, you wouldn’t be doing your craft. (I’m talking about writing for myself, but I’m sure people have asked themselves The Question for every conceivable calling or career.) But if you’re asking The Question of yourself, you’re tired and scared and in pain, your faith is flagging, because you’re driving on close to empty. You’re asking because you want the answer to be yes but you don’t have it in you to believe it.

I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to believe it, or even try to. Your craft will outlive you; it will not cease to be when you let it go. For whatever it’s worth, you’ve got my permission not to be graceful about your fallowing; you don’t have to look starry-eyed to the future or speak of “this season of difficulty” or whatever the religious or self-care language might be this month. Forget your craft. Forget writing. Screw it. You shouldn’t feel obligated to enjoy this time, or make it Instagrammable or TikTokable. It sucks. End of sentence. It can feel like the ending of your life and I don’t believe in guilting people into feeling optimistic or positively about such things.

I’m not here to tell you that you’ll get everything back twice over, that you’ll look back on this time and laugh and be grateful, that you need to do or prepare for anything, that you’ll one day float back over the desert in a hot air balloon as a wiser, more enlightened individual. If you’re asking, Will I ever write again? or When does the creative urge come back? I’m not going to say, Oh, of course it will, just be patient, it’ll come back one day. Just keep going. I don’t know you, I don’t know your life or your future. Maybe it won’t. Maybe that chapter is closed for you. Weigh the possibility in your mind; what’s your reaction? Fear, relief, agony, all of the above? It doesn’t matter. Your emotions will most likely not be a good compass to follow. That, in some way, is the point: there’s no good compass at all. We all drive by the light of our grubby headlights.

What I do believe, even at my lowest point, for myself and for you, is that no love is ever wasted. If you’ve loved your craft, if you still do even in the desert, even in the stillness and the darkness, then it wasn’t and isn’t for no reason. Whether you find your way back to your craft or you move on to something else once you’re out of the desert, you’ll carry what you learned and how you loved either way, and there is always value in that.

I’m taking your face in my hands and repeating it until you believe it: love is never wasted. Neither is time in the desert. I’m not saying that you should try to find some amorphous beauty in a painful time, that if you aren’t grateful for it or productive through it then you aren’t suffering properly and thus don’t deserve what you want, but I am saying that the dry spells don’t disqualify you from your craft. They are, unfortunately, a part of the creative life. Will you ever write, paint, animate, carve again? Maybe, maybe not, I’m not going to make you empty promises. But a yellow light isn’t a stop sign, and the struggle may well be temporary. You won’t know until you do.

That’s my anti-advice for those who may be struggling with their art: it might be your fiftieth year. It may be time to stop trying so hard. It might be time to do a Yoga With Adriene or two and see if candle-making is for you. It might be time to write three thousand angry, bitter blog posts about how it feels like you’ve spent your life thus far on a hopeless dream. Drop your pen, your paintbrush, your needle, your sculpting tools, your power tools. Let your soul grow wild; let your well refill. Don’t tell yourself that the art will be back, don’t hope for the wrong thing, don’t let internet platitudes and toxic positivity convince you to spend energy you don’t have.

Breathe.

Sit.

Wait.

No matter the answer you find at the end of the desert, love will wait with you.

[glilboy]

Ateez reactions to finding you reading smut about them: Hyung line

ive had this idea for awhile and even requested it a few times from other writers but..i felt it was time to write it lol

tws under the cut

warning, this piece of fiction contains mentions of somnophilia, slight dom and sub dynamics, and general explicit topics.

Hongjoong:

You had attempted to stay up waiting for Hongjoong, deciding to reread one of your favorite stories in the mean time. Unfortunately that wasnt enough to keep you awake, you ultimately passing out and your phone tumbling onto the floor.

Hongjoong had a feeling you'd passed out since you didnt message him any "i miss you :(" texts after 11pm so seeing you knocked out on the couch was no surprise. He slowly padded over to you smiling softly, then noticing your phone on the floor and went to pick it up for you. He was never the kind to go through your phone but your smart self had no shut down timer which left the fan fiction on display for him.

He couldnt help but be curious seeing paragraphs of text and decided a little reading would do no harm. As he began to read though he felt his gut sweep, in a good way. He was honestly a little upset until he saw his name but when he read his name it was like all of exhaustion disappeared. Luckily he didn't have work the next day he thought to himself.

Sitting down on the couch with a plan he slowly nudged you awake. "Hi dear," he spoked softly with a smirk.

You rubbed at your bleary eyes and looked up at him, "Oh hi Joongie. Sorry I didn't mean to fall asleep." He smiled even bigger at you.

"Thats fine, it helped me find out something fun," he tucked your hair behind your ear. Still waking up you made a small "huh?" before seeing the phone in his hand.

"Oh..." you mumbled, starting to be awake enough to get it. You finally looked at him straight on and saw his signature devilish grin.

He moved his hand to slowly move up your thigh, giving it a small squeeze which elicted a sigh out of you. "Didn't think you'd read stuff like that Y/N, but I guess you're just full of surprises huh doll," the pet name made you shiver, Hongjoong never having used that one before.

"I'm sorry Joongie," you mumbled into your arm, face now red. His hand moving up to cup your core and grind his hand into it making you whimper softly.

"Oh dont be sorry dolly, just shows me that you really miss me."

Seonghwa:

Saying Seonghwa was caring was an understatement in a way. Despite his busy schedule he made it a point to showed he cared in different ways. One thing he always did was if you left your phone out at all he would put it on the charger for you. Small things!

Today though he had come home earlier than usual while you were taking a quick shower. Seeing your phone on the counter he waltzed over setting his stuff down to throw it on the charger even if it wasn't that low. He noticed you left it on, open to a book he assumed enough.Him being the lovely man he is he wanted to read a bit to see what you liked and possibly buy you a physical copy. Written porn with his name in it though was not what he was expecting.

Seonghwa gulped, setting down your phone with his hands shaking and his face now flushed pink. He took a deep breath and set down his bag, running his fingers through his hair now being surprisingly worked up. A part of him felt embarrassed for being turned on by the writing but at the same time he knew you didn't read it for no reason.

"Hwa! You're home early hello!" You ran up to him giggling, now clean and dressed in some sweats.

"Hey babe, yeah we got let out early cause we learned the new choreography fast enough. They asked us if we wanted to do more vocal practice but none of us did," He laughed, trying to shift his legs to hide his slight erection.

"None of you stay late ever," you giggled sarcastically up at him. "Well, I was gonna take a nap. Do you want to? I'm sure you're tired."

He nodded softly and took your hand walking to your guys bedroom talking about your day. He changed himself into more comfortable clothing then joined you in bed, you curling into him quickly. Once you settled Seonghwa felt he could actually breathe, feeling like a middle schooler just for getting more worked up from having you close. He heard your breath settle which is when he shifted away a bit from you.

"Fuck..." He mumbled, having the space now laying on his back to palm himself over his erection. Looking over at your sleeping face made it worse, the piece you had opened having involved somnophilia. One thing he never had the guts to suggest to you despite having such an open relationship.

He didn't notice your eyes flutter open at the movement. You only just fell asleep so you were in no means in too deep. You decided to play it though, closing your eyes and throwing a leg over his waist as if you were just adjusting in your sleep.

He inhaled a sharp breath and bit his lip now mildly frustrated at the whole situation. Mumbling a fake sleepy "Hwa" you moved to straddle the man hearing a childish sigh escape his lips.

"If you keep moving, I swear to god," He mumbled out loud thinking youre still asleep since you had always been a chaotic sleeper.

"And what will you do about it horny kid," you giggled against his neck. You could feel his body tense.

"Go back to sleep and I'll fuck you like your sick little fantasy, how about that hm?"

yunho:

Rain was beating against the window as you cuddled up on the couch with your phone in hand. Yunho was on the other side of his personal office playing video games. It was a chill day but something in the air was setting you slightly off the edge.

Besides the sweet glances and cheesy smiles thrown at each other, your screen was very much the opposite of innocent pure love. Getting indulged in the story you started to zone in, missing some of his looks making Yunho curious as to what your interest was delved into currently.

"Be right back guys," he said into the mic mischievously. Quickly making his way over he slipped the phone out of your hand, this behavior wouldve typically been fine but because of the contents on your screen you gasped and reached out for your phone. "You doing something naughty or do you just like acting suspicious?" he grinned before looking at your phone.

His face feel reading the paragraph of a particularly nsfw scene. You were now sitting up staring at him wide eyed, "yuyu please oh god its not what you think, i think." Silence filled the room, the only noises being the sound of his running pc and the dull chatter of the other boys.

"Do you read this often?" he said out of hesitation and pure curiosity, almost feeling that he violated your private space. He kind of got the gist of it all right away, thankfully for your sake.

"Not all the time but i mean, you are busy yunho," you tried to softly explain knowing this was odd territory.

"Do you...ever want to try it," he says, getting to the end of the page and looking at you.

"I can't say that..none of them aren't, nice," the air was filled with an awkward energy that could suffocate another person if they came in at such a weird time.

The two of you stood there for a second, until he moved towards you and took your hand. He placed it on his bulge and you sucked a breathe in.

"Take off my pants," he ordered, a strange harsh tone to his voice. For you guys there was never set roles, not any dom or sub dynamic but it wasnt vanilla per say so him speaking like this was new. Besides that, you did as he said and pushed your thumbs under the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down his legs.

Silently he took your hand then sat down on his gaming chair, pulling out his large cock. He slipped on his headphones before looking up at you with a shit eating grin.

"Sit down, i can tell youve been dying too babe."

yeosang:

You were waiting for yeosang to come home after a shorter than usual practice, deciding to pass the time by indulging in your secret world. In the midst of browsing your favorite blogs you didn't hear the door open, this event made you learn not to have headphones in when participating in such activities.

Walking in, Yeosang looked around for you and spotted your figure on the couch. He slowly moved near with a secret motive of scaring you when he glanced at your phone seeing a photo of him paired with a lot of writing. Tilting his head curiously he squinted to read the text, reading along with you until his face flushed.

Sucking in a breath slightly he moved back to the door, playing off him just entering. You noticed his figure walking towards you and sneakily turned off your phone and got up to greet him.

"Hey babe, it's nice to see you in the sunlight," you giggled and wrapped your hands around his waist. You noticed him hesitantly wrapping his arms around you, causing you to pull away.

"Hey, whats up? you seem a bit off?" you pouted and brushed the hair out of his eyes, not catching the little blush.

"Yeah yeah babe, I'm fine. promise," he cleared his throat and pulled away, making your heart sink a bit. He practically completely ignored what you actually said.

"No Yeo, I- did I do something wrong? Or just a long day?" you pried knowing something was up.

Shifting awkwardly on his feet he looked up at you, his hair back in his face. "I um, saw what you were reading."

The color drained from your face, mouth slightly hanging not knowing what to say. You thought he was pissed, was going to leave and break up with you but right when you were about to talk he spoke again.

"C-can we do that?"

A moment of silence passed and you looked up at him, your boyfriend who was typically very soft and gentle in bed. Knowing what you were reading was likely pretty heavy in his book, you became worried. "Yeo, I just read it. It means nothing I don't want to make you uncomforta-"

His lips cut yours off and one hand entangled in your hair, his other guiding you to the wall by your hip. Back flush against the way you pulled away after a moment to see his eyes wide and sweat already beading down his temple.

"I've wanted to do that, just didn't want to scare you dear."

[bitch-im-your-biggest-nightmare]

It Doesn’t Matter What They say [Corpse Husband]

Hey! This is my first time doing something on Tumblr. If you’d like, go to my Wattpad because thats where this story comes from! Also, sorry if its not accurate. Im still knew to the Corpse_Husband fanbase and the people the people he is seen playing with (-Cr1tiKal and Pewdiepie] and im not familiar with personalities 

Summary: No one knew of Corpse and Y/Ns relationship. Until Corpse thought it was a good time to reveal it and maybe to make the people who simp way too much over him calm down a bit. he thought it was a good idea, so did Y/N. But the fans were not happy..

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

Corpse really loved Y/N. He loved her so much that he let her see his face- a week after they met. They met online through Twitter and became best friends, and they totally hit it off. Y/N made Corpse happy, and he trusted her with all his life. Y/N was small, cute, and innocent. She had a soft high pitched voice and was short. She was the exact opposite of Corpse, and that's what he loved about her. He loved when she wore his hoodies, they were always way bigger on her and the sleeves went over her hands. He loved how kind she was. Y/N was a sweetheart, and Corpse didn't know how he was able to score this hard.

Y/N really loved Corpse. He loves so damn much it might kill her. She was happy she got her phone fixed after it stopped charging, if she didn't this wouldn't have happened. They became best friends and hit it off, and she loved when she made Corpse smile. She knows his real name- but calls him Corpse because that's what he prefers. She knows his birthday, his favorite foods, his favorite songs, his personality, how to cheer him up, she knows everything. She loved Corpses deep voice and how it soothed her to sleep. She loved how tall he was compared to her. She loved sitting on his lap while he made his videos and did his streams. He loved wearing his warm hoodies and snuggling up to his chest after long days. Corpse was the best, and Y/N didn't how she was able to score this hard.

Corpse and Y/N thought it would be a good idea to reveal their relationship to the world.

So they did.

In his last stream, he was playing Among Us and decided to tell everyone about Y/N. His exact words were "Guys by the way, I think it's pretty important to tell you guys that I now have a girlfriend. Her names Y/N, and shes the sweetest little thing."

"I'm not little!" Y/Ns voice rung out from behind him. She was sitting on his bed watching him play. Everyone he was playing with freaked out at how soft and high pitched her voice was.

"Her voice is the exact opposite of Corpses, how is this possible?" Felix said with a laugh.

"How can a demon score with an angel?" Charlie commented.

"She sounds so cuuuute!" Poki said, already falling in love with Y/N even she never heard her voice.

"Awwe now I feel lonely." Sykkuno said, sending a sad face in the chat which made them all laugh.

"Nice to meet you all!" Y/N said, walking over to sit on Corpses lap. She was wearing a familiar black hoodie that was way too big on her. Hmm.. wonder whose it is.

"Wha- are you wearing my hoodie again? I was looking for it all over." Corpse had a smirk plastered on his face and looked Y/N over. She was wasn't wearing any pants- but she knew that smirk meant he was just teasing her, they don't make love very often. They just have late night cuddle sessions and kisses.

"I hid it from you so I can wear it." Y/N said a little sheepishly. She was a little awkward talking to Corpse like this infront of everybody. But by how his friends greeted her, she knew they liked her. She was sure the fans would like her as well.

"Wow. You know I was very cold without that hoodie. I had to wear this plain white t-shirt that made me even more cold." Corpse shook his head in a teasing way. Though Y/N was very soft and innocent, so she thought he was being serious for a second.

She frowned, "I'm sorry! I'll give it to you now-" She started to take it off but was stopped by Corpse.

"Ay ay ay ay- no no no, it's fine I was just joking Y/N." He chuckled, hugging her tightly.

"How is she so pure?" Toast muttered, sitting there in disbelief.

"Shes so innocent." Aoc chuckled, already liking this Y/N girl. She really wanted to play a game of Among Us with her, she seemed like such a nice girl to play with.

"Corpse you better treat her like a queen or I swear to god I will-" Charlie was cut off by Sean.

"SHe sound so perfect for Corpse, I'm for ya dude." Sean said, knowing what to come with that sentence.

"Oh how dare you cut me off. I was about to speaks of wisdom!" Charlie said.

"You were about to say profanity. We need to protect this bean we know as Y/N" Poki said.

Charlie sighed, "Fine. But you better expect a fucking DM Corpse!"

Y/N decided to play along with this, She looked curiously at Corpse and said "Babe? Whats fucking?"

There was audible gasps, and Corpse looked at her in complete and utter disbelief. His little innocent bean just said the no no word, it was forbidden in her vocab.

"CHARLIE!"

"OH MY GOD!"

"NOOOooOOOOOOO!"

"DON'T TAKE HER INNOCENCE!!"

"pretty sure Corpse already took it if you know what I mean."

"Ew what the f--feck?"

--------

It was a fun night for Y/N and Corpse. Y/N enjoyed her time talking to the others and studying Corpses strategies as an imposter. She was excited for when she was gonna be able to play with them, she really looked forward to it. After the stream, Corpse went to record a video reading some more fan written horror stories. Y/N went and laid on the couch, waiting patiently for her boyfriend to finish up his recording- which was going to be a while. She scrolled through her phone, watching a few of Corpses videos and looking at photos of them on her camera roll.

But she made a mistake by going on Twitter.

"Corpses gf is so fake lmao"

"Y/N does not deserve Corpse! Shes sounds like such a bitch"

"I hope @T/N and @Corpse_Husband break up. I hate their relationship already 😭"

"Y/N sounds like a hoe and isn't worthy of Corpses time."

"I bet Corpse is so tired of @T/N lmao. its obvious in his voice loooooooool"

"I hope Y/N dies so i can get a piece of deep daddy 🤩🥰"

"I already hate Y/N and I haven't even seen her in any other vids XD"

"Yoo they sound like they hate her lol. I bet they're just putting on an act to make her feel better about herself."

The DMs, messages, and comments on her posts were even worse..

"You don't deserve Corpse. Fuck off hoe."

"You aren't worry of Corpses time."

"You're such a user."

"Bitch"

"User"

"I bet Corpse really hates you."

"I hope you fucking because Corpse doesn't need an ugly hoe like you in his life"

And they just got worse and worse. Y/N was shocked, why are they hating on her so fast? Does Corpse really not like her..? Is she really not worthy of his time..? NO! She pushed them away, Corpse loves you, and that's truth.

But even so, Y/N couldn't stop reading the messages. They were all so mean.. Only a few people stood up for her. She felt her heart break, everyone hates her... Just despises her! She felt tears run down her face. She cuddled into the hoodie, pulling the oversized hoodie her H/C hair. She felt hurt and hated, like no one wanted her, not even Corpse- the person who loved her the most.

--------

After an hour, Corpse decided to take a little break from recording and check on Y/N. He missed her soft voice and her cuddles, so he was on a mission to get just that thing. He stood up from his gaming chair and gave a nice long stretch and ran a hand through his black hair. He walked to his door, slowly opening it and quietly walking through the hallway. He planned to scare Y/N, and sense it usually takes him hours to finish his recording she wouldn't suspect a thing.

But when he got closer to the living room, he felt worry and concern overwhelm him. He heard the soft sobs and cries of his beloved girlfriend. He rushed into the living room, sitting on the couch and picking her up to hold her in his arms. "Hey babe- are you ok? Whats wrong?"

Y/N didn't say anything, she just snuggled into Corpses chest and hugged him tightly as she sobbed.

"Babe, you can tell me anything, you know that? What's wrong? Did someone say something that hurt you on stream? Wait- is it what Sykkuno said? Baby I'm not gay he's just a friend and you know that, it's just a joke that we're-"

"I-i-its not that.." Y/N muttered out.

"Then whats wrong?" Corpse asked, his voice full of nothing but worry and concern.

Y/N grabbed her phone and turned it on. She went on Twitter on looked up the hashtag 'HateY/N' and told Corpse to scroll through.

She watched as he scrolled through the tweets, and his expression twisted into one Y/N has never really seen before, anger. Oh he was livid. How could they say those things at his beautiful, sweet, and happy girlfriend? He thought his fans would support him and Y/Ns relationship. Why didn't they care?

He read some of the battles, some people loved Y/N.

"Bro stfu. Y/N is perfect for Corpse."

"lmao what? Shes ugly asf"

"Seriously? If you really cared about Corpse you would support him. Now fuck off."

Corpse pulled his own phone out and hopped on Twitter,  instantly typing a response to everyone who has been hating on Y/N.

He said "To everybody who has been hating on @T/N, my girlfriend. I love her with all my life and I do not like how some of you guys have been treating her. She has changed my goddamn life, and all this bullshit you guys have been spitting has made Y/N cry. So please.. just please stop."

After that, Corpse threw his phone onto the carpet and hugged Y/N tightly, kissing her temple softly. "It doesn't matter what they say, I will always love you Y/N."

[blu-archer]

Let me help you..

Right. So I felt the need to attempt writing smut and sneeze inducing, so if this sucks I’m blaming it on the fact that I’ve never written this before. 

If you are under age, please don’t read this. While its not particularly hectic, it still is what it is.

Warnings: mature content. Very very mild language

Sickie: Jimin 

Caretaker: Yoongi 

-smut and fluff. 

-Also massages.

- I was bored and finished this at 2am.

Alternate universe - magic is real and Jimin is a hybrid.

Part 1 of this series.

Jimin moaned deeply, his eyes fluttering closed as a content purr filled the bedroom.

Yoongi smirked with the satisfaction of being responsible for his kittens reactions. He slid his hands up the hybrid’s smooth skin as Jimin began to squirm underneath him. Working his fingers into the hard, knotted muscles of Jimin’s upper back – smugly earning an even deeper moan of pleasure.

Yoongi tugged lightly on Jimin’s tail, aware of its sensitivities but only wishing to tease the hybrid while he had him pinned to the mattress beneath him. Jimin’s breath hitched but flicked his tail back, hitting Yoongi in the face as a form of scolding.

“I want you to feel nice, Kitten.” Yoongi answered innocently, leaning low to kiss the center of Jimin’s back.

Jimin shivered at the action, taking a deep breath before replying hoarsely. “We are not doing anything like that while I’m sick.”

“You would feel good..”

“This feels great as it is, Yoon.”

Yoongi trailed his kisses down the length of Jimin’s spine until he reached the base of his tail just coming just above the waist band of Jimin’s boxers, his hands still massaging into his boyfriend’s stiff muscles. Jimin mewled at the touches, his body betraying him and forcing him to shift awkwardly with shaky breaths as they started to move in the direction that he had very seriously stipulated not too.

Jimin flicked his tail at Yoongi again but he couldn’t bring himself to put in the same effort as before. Resulting in it falling weakly against Yoongi’s forearm. A slow heat was building through his body making him want to just melt into the sheets and as good as it felt, this paired with how Yoongi had laid him down was not helping his running nose. He was already running warm with small yet persistent fever, but this heat made him feel a different kind of weakness. One that Yoongi often enjoyed to-put him through. Yoongi worked his way down Jimin’s back once more, trailing his kisses in the opposite direction until he rested his lips against the cat’s scent gland.

“Yoongi.”

Yoongi bit down lightly on the gland, grazing it with his teeth which sent a strong enough sensation to tremble Jimin’s entire body. The younger broke out into a rough bout of coughing, reaching up to grab the closest pillow to cover so that he didn’t cough into Yoongi’s face. The warlock paused in his activities, not bringing himself to alert Jimin that he had grabbed Yoongi’s pillow to cough into – or remind the cat that they slept together and that he was probably going to get sick anyway, so there wasn’t much point in the wasted effort.

“Sorry.” Yoongi murmured, setting a final kiss to Jimin’s neck before moving off of him and sitting up. “Should I get you some tea?”

“N-no.” Jimin croaked. “Tired of tea.”

“Some warm water with lemon and ginger then.”

The hybrid pushed himself upright so that he sat next to Yoongi, leaning into the elder as he ran his wrist under his nose with a sniff. Yoongi put on arm over his shoulders, letting his hand trace along the cat’s collar bone. When he heard a light scoff, he looked at the hybrid with a raised brow only to see the cat glaring into his lap. Yoongi’s smirk from earlier returned as he saw what had annoyed his boyfriend.

“Stop it.” Jimin snapped without any real anger. “ I said no, and you continued anyway.”

“I thought it would help you. You’ve done it for me before.” Yoongi pressed a kiss to Jimin’s temple. “But I’m sorry I should have stopped… although since I’ve started and you’re clearly able…”

“No.” Jimin stated sternly with a wet sniffle, yet his brows pinched together in thought. As if he were at least contemplating the idea. “I should take a shower. A cold one.”

“Don’t.” Yoongi stood up and pulled the hybrid after him, making sure that one of his woolen sweaters was grabbed before leaving the room. “Come sit with me and we can watch movies. You said that you have been wanting to watch that animation again, the cat one.”

“The lion king?”

Yoongi nodded as he dropped Jimin’s hand once they had reached the kitchen, giving the younger a moment to pull on the white sweater – its length draping to his mid-thigh. He flicked his hand towards the kettle, automatically it rumbled to life as it got to reheating  the water.

“If you want to. I don’t want you taking any cold showers, we can deal with it in other ways my love.” Yoongi let his magic flow and a variety of a things were propelled into action. Knives went to work on chopping up a lemon and small section of raw ginger then moved on to cutting up various vegetables that would eventually be put into a broth for them later.

Jimin stretched his arms up as he failed to swallow back a yawn, almost immediately scrambling for a handful of tissues from the box set up on the circular dinner table that they rarely used for anything other Yoongi’s work – and that one time when Jimin had been too impatient to drag Yoongi back to their room…

Hih’igxeshh huh..ahh. huh’iiTTCHhiew…

Jimin let out a congested curse as he blew his nose, wincing at how tender his nose was. The blowing hadn’t eased any of the pressure in his sinuses and he was pretty sure that he was going to sound disgustingly blocked up for at least the rest of the day. Yoongi pulled two small boxed orange juices from the fridge and handed one to Jimin before aggressive stabbing a straw through the top of his own. The juices were typically targeted to kids, but the pair had never gotten out of the habit of buying them from when they had been studying.

Jimin secretly hoped they never stopped.  Their other friends often teased them about it but having the little juices always brought fond memories of times spent with Yoongi, back when they weren’t dating and had just been roommates in college trying to survive exams. They would go days without proper sleep or social interaction and there were times when food and water were not consumed as much as it should have been. Which, of course after both had found the other in moments that had scared them quite badly, the tradition of leaving random boxes of the juice and snacks in their separate areas of studying had begun.

“This shouldn’t take too long, let’s go sit down.” Yoongi encouraged, ignoring the glance Jimin made at him using his magic when he had originally said that he would need some time to recover and had agreed to lay off of the magic until then. Thankfully nothing was commented on and he gave a breathy laugh at how Jimin snatched up the tissue box and held it to his chest before moving to the lounge. “Do you want your glasses?”

“Yeah..” Jimin answered as he threw himself onto the small couch, burrowing into the soft throw pillows that Jungkook had given them after setting his juice aside. “Is Tae coming over today?”

“Tae?” Yoongi frowned. “Should he be?”

“It’s Monday… isn’t it your mentor day?”

Yoongi breathed out a heavy sigh as he found Jimin’s glasses on the counter where he had left them the night before.

It was in fact his day to mentor. He had completely forgotten. At least it was still early, the sun had barely risen, so Taehyung wouldn’t have just pitched up at the store to find that it hadn’t been opened. Yoongi would have to just send a message and tell him that he would cancel for the day.

“I’ll ask Namjoon if he can take him again.” Yoongi said and settled down beside Jimin’s head, letting the younger move up so that he rested on Yoongi’s lap.

“He’s not some file or spell casting that you can just hand off Yoon, just tell him to come by here a bit later than usual. I’ll probably be asleep for most of the day anyway.”

Jimin had a point.

He sent a quick text to the witch informing him that they would work in Yoongi’s private studio space at his house instead of the store. Taehyung wouldn’t question it – perhaps he would have even expected it. Yoongi wasn’t as unpredictable as he thought when matters included Jimin.

**

Jimin was restless.

Yoongi was almost sure that the hybrid had missed the entire beginning of the movie with how he shifted around; adjusting the pillows or removing the sweater he wore to make it into a blanket of sorts – and then into a pillow when he wasn’t satisfied, or getting up to find water and ending up dragging the duvet from their room to the couch.

When Yoongi thought the younger had finally settled down with his head resting on the warlocks thigh, Jimin began to shuffle beneath the blanket as if he just couldn’t find the right place to lie. His cute ears that Yoongi had been softly scratching, were drawn back in irritation and his tail flicked continuously against the cover.

“You okay?” He asked, looking down at the Calico’s flushed cheeks and annoyed pout.

Jimin let out a heavy puff of air, his eyes narrowed as he practically glared at the tv. Yoongi ran a hand gently down the nape of Jimin’s neck and traced along his sharp collar bone, smiling at the deep purr that started up before startling as Jimin pulled away. He was about to question the youngers actions when Jimin settled himself onto Yoongi’s lap. His pretty eyes were dilated, and his bottom lip pulled tightly between his teeth as he rocked forward, drawing Yoongi closer by putting his arms around his neck.

The warlock let out a low surprised chuckled but made no complaint against Jimin putting his lips to his jaw, beginning a journey of lingering kisses that made him shiver.

“I thought –“

“You started this.” Jimin muttered a bit hoarsely, but Yoongi couldn’t tell if it was from his cold or whatever the younger was chasing after. “Finish it.”

“You didn’t want to..” Yoongi shifted as Jimin rolled his hips hard against him.

The movie played on, music cheerfully flooding the room, yet Yoongi could barely hear it as he focused on the soft breaths and moans that Jimin let out into his mouth and neck. Yoongi’s breaths were quickly matching that of the hybrid, if not surpassing him as his body reacted to Jimin’s hands trailing his skin tenderly.

“Now.” Jimin panted out. “Now I do. Please… I can’t focus on anything else.”

Yoongi pushed Jimin off, keening at the low whine that quickly turned to a moan as he forced Jimin back into the soft cushions while he got to his knees in front of him. He pulled the blankets that had been tangled around Jimin’s legs away, taking note of his boyfriends light shivers and hooded eyes from behind his glasses.

Jimin wasn’t normally needy when it came to these private moments between them if anything he was usually the one to be in control. Seeing the hybrid lean his head back and paw at Yoongi’s shirt impatiently and letting the warlock do what he wanted to do to Jimin without complaint or direction was a blessing that Yoongi rarely got to witness. Even if it included Jimin’s mouth breathing, chapped lips and crimson tinged nose.

He was running his hands over Jimin’s tight dancer physique with almost featherlight touches only to grip and hold his hips down in place as he pushed up to try to create some type of friction. Yoongi left tender kisses on the soft inner skin of Jimin’s thighs taking his time while smiling at the soft sigh that left his boyfriend before Yoongi gradually moved an inch higher and suckled the skin there. He could feel Jimin carding his hands through his hair, giving soft tugs almost in time with his heavy breaths.

Once he felt that he had left enough marks there he pushed Jimin’s legs further apart so that he could climb and rest between them as he trailed kisses and hickeys up the hybrids torso – earning a quivering moan as he hovered and switched between nipples. Giving the sensitive buds extra attention as Jimin shivered and dug his nails into Yoongi’s shoulder. The warlock didn’t even have time to wonder if the hybrid was going to claw through his clothes, he could already feel the sharp points digging into his skin – varying in force every few seconds.

Yoongi had always delighted in the fact that his kitten was extremely sensitive when it came to skin contact, every moment was a chance to see how he would react to the most subtle of strokes or kisses. Jimin’s breath quickened as he arched to rub his body into Yoongi’s as much as possible, his body heating at the feeling of the elders own arousal pressed against him when the warlock nipped at the glands on his neck. Jimin moaned deeply, his nails moving to scrape against Yoongi’s scalp and his breath catching in his throat.

He growled as Yoongi caught the lobe of his ear with his teeth, which resulted in him turning to cough harshly to the side. Yoongi pulled back, settling down on Jimin’s lap as he did his best to ignore his own erection that fought against his sweatpants.  Yoongi slipped a tissue out of the box and rested it around Jimin’s nose and mouth, feeling his hot breaths hit his palm through the soft material as he coughed.

“Blow.” Yoongi said gently when Jimin had finally caught his breath.

“You blow.” Jimin flushed and pulled Yoongi’s hand away so that he could blow his nose himself. He wasn’t going to let Yoongi have to feel whatever grossness came out of him. Jimin blew his nose twice, but the heat that spread through his body was making his nose run and left him sniffling miserably.

“Is that what you want? Can I continue then?” Yoongi grinned as he leant closer and gently sucked at Jimin’s jaw when he didn’t hear an immediate complaint.

“Yoongi… You don’t have to. Maybe this is too much, I’m quickly realising how gross this is again.” Jimin murmured apprehensively, although his body thrived under the soft caressing touches.

Yoongi let out a breathy chuckle as he drew circles into Jimin’s v-line with his thumbs. “There isn’t a single thing about you that could possibly be gross, love. Lean back.”

Jimin shifted with an unusual amount of compliance. Yoongi merely smirked as he got to work at his boyfriend’s chest once more, priding himself at the low whines that vibrated out of Jimin. Slowly Yoongi ran a hand down between their bodies and slipped it smoothly beneath the boxer’s he had forgotten to remove to grasp at the base of Jimin’s dick. He smirked at the jolt that that trembled through Jimin’s entire body.

“Oh…” Jimin rolled his head back, his hips pushing against Yoongi’s hand with more force than he thought he could muster just then. He didn’t even bat an eye at the slick he could feel seeping out and no doubt ruining the couch. Yoongi didn’t even hesitate to start stroking at the achingly hard length, almost teasingly so, and Jimin could barely keep his pleasure contained, his body betraying his control as he shifted and mewled at the heat that coursed through him. “…ahhh… st-stop be-nnhgg.. ahh.. so-soft.”

“You want me to be harder?” Yoongi asked. His voice dipping low enough to spark a new wave of dizzying heat through Jimin even before the elder gathered some of the slick that had gradually begun to gush out of him before wrapping a strong yet tender grip around Jimin’s dick once more. Moving to pump him roughly.

“Fuck!”  Jimin cried hoarsely. His head slammed into Yoongi’s shoulder as he jerked up to meet the newly set pace, burying his face into Yoongi’s shoulder as he was driven closer to the edge.

The warlock bit at his cheek to try to bring his mind back to the present, controlling his own breathing before he drowned in Jimin’s whimpers and lewd pleas. Jimin hadn’t complained about his actions, but Yoongi couldn’t help but be mildly unsatisfied. Retracting his hand, earning sharp claws into his back as well as a hoarse whine, Yoongi moved down and yanked the boxers off of the hybrid in a hastily, swift motion. Jimin had just began to let out a low whine again when Yoongi took him in his mouth. The sounds that left them both were anything but soft and once again Yoongi was glad that their cottage was a relatively far distance away from their neighbours. He licked and sucked and hummed around the calico’s dick and the whimpers and cries set his blood alight.  It didn’t take much longer before the hybrid was spilling himself out, arching and thrusting up into Yoongi’s mouth as the elder swallowed as much as he could. He pulled back, white painting his lips as he returned his hand to milk Jimin dry, leaning up to kiss the hybrid’s gaping mouth as he did. Jimin was left a  panting and mewling mess in his boyfriends embrace, while Yoongi used the discarded boxer’s to briefly clean them off afterwards. That was definitely better than just watching ‘The Lion King’. Jimin would never be able to view the movie the same ever again.

“mmmngg…” Jimin lay a sloppy kiss into the curve of Yoongi’s neck before lightly coughing away into the air, too blissed to even try to lift up his arm to shield it.

“Content?”

Jimin gave another inaudible reply before stuttering off into a particularly vocal sneeze.

“Let’s shower, okay?” Yoongi said, flicking up his hand to shut off the movie that had still been playing. He was painfully hard, but he had expected nothing less from the sounds and reactions Jimin had been giving him. “Get cleaned up properly and eat before Tae arrives. Then you can get some rest.”

The hybrid sniffled and reached to tug at the hem of Yoongi’s pants, feeling too alone in his nudity, which caused the elder to chuckle tightly but not without affection.  He grabbed Jimin’s hands in his own and pulled him shakily to his feet.

“I don’t need any help. Let’s just get you in the shower, okay?”

There were no arguments from either of them. Even when Jimin decided that a second round was definitely in order.

**

“You should really air this place out.”

Yoongi startled at the voice, not having expected another person to be in his house. He had just finished getting food in Jimin and had gotten him to sleep, which had taken far longer than it should have and had resulted in some more deep massages to help his kitten relax. He hadn’t heard the front door open but seeing Taehyung rummaging around his kitchen shouldn’t have really surprised him. Perhaps his morning activities had sent him to a state of unawareness.

Thank god he had thought to set his magic down on cleaning their couch before leaving the room.

“Yeah?”

“Mm.” Taehyung swiveled to give a stern finger-pointing at the elder, it lost whatever effect he had tried to pull when Yoongi saw the strips of liquorice that dangled from the witches mouth. “This place smelt super musky. Its not good for Jimin to be in an unventilated area. The fresh air would do him better.”

Yoongi avoided eye contact, fearing that his smile would grow too wide if he kept looking at the witches stern disapproval. “I’ll keep that in mind. I thought he’d get cold. Should we get to work? I have a few spell books that I got in London that I thought would really benefit you.”

Taehyung grumbled lightly that his mentor should have ‘known better’ and that their roles should switch temporarily so that Yoongi could learn something about care giving from him instead. The warlock didn’t comment or correct Tae, merely laughed and waved him off as his mind tossed the vivid ‘helping’ details of his morning around in his thoughts.

It quickly became obvious that his heart wasn’t in the lesson that he should have definitely planned more for, and he realised that as soon as Tae accidentally set fire to a third of his sage collection. That was on him though, he should have known better to make an entirely clear space before letting Tae work on anything that had to do with the elements, and he should have been paying attention to what the younger was doing and saying in order to prevent such tragedies. It was entirely unprofessional to be so blatantly distracted, but Yoongi couldn’t seem to help it. A part of him kept wanted to run back into the main section of their little house – back to where Jimin was sleeping – so that he could check up on him. To see if he needed any tea, or some one to talk to, or play boards games with, or to see if he wanted Yoongi to comb his hair or scratch at his ears. Jimin loved having Yoongi scratch at his ears. And Yoongi loved doing it.

He'd missed so much in the months that he’d been gone, that the scents and the feeling of Jimin’s skin or hair or fur – the feeling of Jimin being close to him – he had almost forgotten what it was like, and he never wanted to even consider the thought of coming close to forgetting it again.

Taehyung had spent the next twenty minutes after the flames being a floundering, apologetic mess – even after Yoongi had tried to convince him that he wasn’t at fault and that Yoongi should have practiced some pronunciations with him first. His attempts didn’t seem to sink it. They both agreed on a break perhaps a bit too eagerly once they’d gone over a few pointers – Yoongi trying harder to pay close attention to Taehyung and the fine details that the witch still seemed to be getting wrong.

He let Tae help himself to some of the food that he’d made for Jimin earlier while Yoongi took the chance to peek into the bedroom to see if his boyfriend was still alright. And basically, just how Yoongi had left him, Jimin was curled into his side of the bed with the comforter pulled tightly to his body. His tri-coloured ears contrasted against the thick white sheets and seemed to be the only part of the hybrid that wasn’t completely under the blankets. As much has Yoongi wanted to go and pull them down to see the youngers face, he refrained. The soft, congested snores were enough to tell him that Jimin needed to sleep, so he dragged himself back to the kitchen and made himself the strongest brew of coffee he had to gain focus for the next few hours with his mentee.

Taehyung had just mastered a spell for plant growth and was gleefully trying to revive some of the things he’d damaged earlier when they heard the soft padding of feet coming from the entrance of the studio. They both paused in anticipation, their energy levels spiking until Jimin appeared in the section that they were in. Something in Yoongi’s chest melted like warm caramel at the sight of Jimin – he’d changed before leaving the cottage to join them in the small building outside that Yoongi had claimed as his studio space. Switching his sleep wear to a pair of Yoongi’s sweatpants as well the warlocks thickest jacket, even the hybrid’s tail was hidden beneath the warm layers. The extra padding as well as the broadness of the jacket made the hybrid appear even smaller than usual.

Jimin smiled shyly, bringing a tissue up to blow his nose before letting Taehyung bound over and hug him, his sleep-mussed hair flopping all over the place as Tae swayed him and picked him up to playfully pull him to his chest, quickly moving to ramble on about all that they’d done in the past hours that the witch had been there. Yoongi watched quietly from his high set stool, his hands fumbling around with some of the herbs he’d been planning on making charms with. He couldn’t help but notice the increase in Jimin’s sniffling. The hybrid seemed to be running a tissue under his nose every few minutes while earnest nodding to everything Tae was saying. His nose was an even brighter red than before and his eyes had that tired glazed-over look that made Yoongi think his boyfriend had only just woken up and had opted to find them straight away.

“I think I’ll be able to help Hobi’s little flower garden grow stronger. Both him and Kook have been so busy lately the maintenance of the garden has kind of downgraded a bit, and I’m usually not allowed to work with them ever since I forgot the sprinklers on that one time and drowned all the seedlings… but with this..”

Taehyung shrugged with enthusiasm, grinning widely at Jimin who was nodding along despite squinting with a somewhat dazed look. His nose scrunched up and he murmured a hasty apology before crumpling into his tissue with a desperate  sneeze that shook through his entire body. Taehyung lay a steadying hand on his friends shoulder as Jimin snapped forward once more, and again, giving a low groan and a disgustingly wet sniffle since his current tissue was no longer capable of use. Yoongi joined the hybrid’s side rather quickly after that, manifesting the box of tissues that he knew was inside their home so that Jimin could blow his nose again.

“I’b sorry.” Jimin glanced at Tae tired as he tried to rid himself of the congestion, only to find that the itch that had been bothering him was still there. Only this time it didn’t seem to want to progress further. “I was -snf- lis-listening.”

“I know.” Tae grinned and rubbed the calico’s back with nurturing intent. “Bless you.”

Jimin sniffed and scrunched his nose to try and wiggle the itch that had settled there out, but it didn’t seem to be working.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asked softly. His hand gently tugging Jimin’s body closer to his own. With the way Jimin’s face had flushed and his eyes had turned watery, Yoongi didn’t think that he was done. “Did you just wake up?”

Jimin nodded, moving his hand to rub harshly at his nose causing his breath to hitch slightly but overall, accomplished nothing. “I ha-had a bad dre-hih-dream. snf.”

“My kitten.” Yoongi pulled him into his chest, squeezing him tightly. He could feel Jimin’s breath hitch against him and felt the rumbling groan of annoyance flood through Jimin’s body as he pushed his nose into Yoongi’s neck – seemingly no longer caring about possible contagion as Yoongi felt dampness on his skin. Although considering what they’d done that morning, Jimin probably had ruled that contagion was probably unavoidable. Jimin worked hard at trying to scent him, doing his best to try work away the ticklish feeling that left him feeling both crazy and drained, he could only whimper in annoyance.

“I ca-can’t sne-sneez-ah.. snf.”

“Sit down, Minnie.” Tae said, rubbing Jimin’s shoulders as the hybrid did as he was instructed, crumpling to the floor, desperate to try anything. “Yoongi… why… why don’t you try and coax it out. Hobi and I do it for Jungkook all the time during his allergies and colds.”

Yoongi hadn’t done it before. Jimin had always tried to do anything he considered ‘gross’ by himself, and this was usually one of those things. Yet looking down into his boyfriends teary eyes, Yoongi truly wanted to be the one to help him. Like he’d helped him that morning – well, not quite, not with Tae there, but the situation was somewhat similar. Control was being handed over.

Yoongi sat in between Jimin’s legs, grabbing a tissue and staring at it blankly before Taehyung instructed him to roll it to point – further explaining what he needed to do while Jimin coughed openly, his shoulders slumping forwards as Tae rubbed his back.

“Could you tilt back a bit, Love?” Obediently, Jimin leant back into Taehyung.

Carefully, Yoongi pushed the tissue into Jimin’s left nostril, gently nudging it around. At first Jimin merely looked uncomfortable and Yoongi was seconds away from pulling it out and trying something else – surely they had pepper or something – when he angled it and accidentally went deeper. Jimin’s expression changed to one that Yoongi was very familiar with as his breath hitch against Yoongi’s hand.

“Keep doing that and just wiggle it gently.” Taehyung encouraged.

Feeling quite studious, Yoongi pulled it out a little before returning it to that spot, giving the tissue a light wiggle. Jimin’s breath stuttered and hitched achingly until there were tears threatening to spill. Yoongi twisted the tissue with his finger and felt the sudden large inhale Jimin took before –

Heh’ ISHHTEWW! IP’SSHIEW! Hih’ih’ePISHH’uh!

Yoongi tried not to grimace – after all, the fluid that now coated his hand was a simple wash to get rid of, and his Love was clearly not feeling well enough to deserve any type of criticism – whether it was voiced or not. It wasn’t something he could fault the hybrid for. Yoongi merely grabbed for more tissues, pulling the now crumpled mess of an inducing tool out of Jimin’s nose, only to catch the next bundle neatly with his freshly tissued hand.

Yoongi murmured a soft ‘bless you’ each time Jimin was forced forward into his hand until finally the hybrid was halted into soft, tired panting. Taehyung made a comment about going to put tea on in the house and left them, leaving a soft scratch on Jimin’s head.

Yoongi took his time making sure Jimin was finished and clean before he wiped off his own hand, feeling Jimin’s unfocused gaze drawn to his actions.

“This,” Jimin cleared his throat as his voice cracked. “This is not how I hoped today would go. I’m sorry that must have been –“

“It was fine. Interesting actually.” Yoongi reassuring with a hint of amusement. “Your facial expressions were definitely something that will visit my dreams.”

Jimin’s red cheeks turned an even brighter shade as the hybrid smacked his boyfriend’s chest with a breathy laugh. “I really needed to sneeze. It felt really good.”

“I’m glad.” Yoongi placed a kiss on Jimin’s cheek. “I’ll do it again if you even need me too.”

“My saviour.” Jimin huffed with a strong sniff.

Remembering what Jimin had stuttered before, Yoongi ran a hand through the youngers hair, leaning in closer to stare directly into Jimin’s eyes so that he knew not to divert anything that was asked of him.

“What was your bad dream about?”

Jimin froze and then chuckled tightly, looking down into his lap. “It was stupid, looking back on it. I just felt really alone. It was like you weren’t with me anymore and everything was just really cold and dark, so when I wo-woke – hih’igtshh’uh ugh snf –“ Jimin burrowed into a tissue, making his voice muffled slightly. “When I woke up I had to find you, just to make sure.”

Yoongi frowned as he stroked through Jimin’s hair. Perhaps that trip that he’d gone on had done more harm than he’d originally thought. He didn’t want Jimin to ever think that he would be able to leave him. It just wasn’t possible.

“You know I love you, right? With every essence of my soul, I love you. I wouldn’t be able to function without knowing that you are alright, without having you by my side.”

Jimin nodded, but the smile didn’t reach his tired eyes.  “I know. I promise I know. And I love you so much. You are so stupidly lovable. It was just a bad dream. I always have you with me.”

Jimin pressed a kiss to Yoongi’s lips, deepened it momentarily before frantically breaking away to sneeze a double down into Yoongi’s chest.

“Argh… sorry about that. I think this entire thing is taking turns between moving to my head and chest.” Jimin leant forward into Yoongi, resting his head on his boyfriends broad shoulder.

“C’mon.” Yoongi patted him when he had started to fall asleep. “Let’s get you back inside and warm. Tae has probably finished making tea by now. You can drink it with him before I toss him out.”

Jimin hummed with a lack of interest.

“And some more medicine will probably be helpful.”

Jimin’s hum turned to a much more agreeable tone.

“Maybe I’ll even rub some of my herbal ointment on you.” Yoongi said with low teasing pitch. “I’ll be extra useful and massage all these stiff muscles of yours.”

That got Jimin laughing. His eyes crinkled before he kissed Yoongi again, wrapping his arms tightly around the elder.  Yoongi managed to stand and support his boyfriend as the younger clung onto him to be carried, making sure he was sturdy before making the short work in the cold to get back to the house. He could feel Jimin’s face against his neck, hiding from the chill as he sniffled, but Yoongi could feel the smile on the youngers face as he pressed a kiss to Yoongi’s neck.

And it must have been contagious, because when Yoongi felt the familiar scratch of teeth where the scent gland on his neck should have been, followed by a gentle press of lips, it was impossible to stop his own smile from spreading.

[plus-ultra-oof]

Break Time! | Bokuto & Kuroo | Haikyuu!! | Tickle Fic

A/N: This is one of the fastest things I’ve ever written lol. I love Bokuto and Kuroo’s friendship a lot but this could be read as Bokuroo too.

Disclaimer: Includes swearing and minor spoilers for the timeskip (Kuroo’s future plans are vaguely mentioned)

Summary: Kuroo’s working himself to death with exam season on the horizon and Bokuto has just the idea to “help.”

——————————————————

Upon a third glance at Kuroo in just a few minutes, Bokuto had determined something was wrong. He could hear him sigh and shift in his seat from where he was sat on his bed. It wasn’t in the restless way that Bokuto was feeling right now though. It was a lot more tired. He narrowed his eyes at his friend, taking in his stiff posture and tense jaw. Rubbing his eyes with one hand Kuroo scrubbed an eraser across his paper with the other, the movement far harsher than necessary. He craned his neck to read something out of a textbook and his lips pressed into a thin line as he tried to comprehend it. The near silence in the room aside from his friend’s quiet frustration was honestly freaking Bokuto out.

When he’d shown up at the other captain’s front door, he’d been ready to go get food, screw around in his backyard, and maybe see an action movie or something. They’d planned this for weeks in advance —their schedules were both pretty packed— and as far as Bokuto knew they were both really looking forward to it. He’d prepared to just mess around and have some simple fun, so he was really surprised when Kuroo opened the door with a tight frown on his lips and not at all dressed for a day out.

“Bo?” Kuroo furrowed his eyebrows as his arms came up to cross over his chest, “what are you-“ Realization took over his features and after a few mumbled curses to himself, Kuroo opened the door further and let him in. The house was the same as Bokuto remembered it: Clean, but still clearly lived in. The mild clutter was charming in its own way and Bokuto had seen it when he’d visited his friend in the past. Kuroo himself was actually the only thing that seemed different.

His hair was messier than usual somehow and the beginnings of dark circles were smudged under his eyes. Instead of his usually clean and neat clothes, he was in a ratty white t-shirt and some old looking red sweats with “Nekoma” written down the sides in faded white block letters. It wasn’t just that though, all of his apologies and attempts at conversation also seemed off as he led Bokuto up the stairs to his room. Like his heart wasn’t really in it with his mind so preoccupied.

“Sorry man, I completely forgot, my bad it’s just-“ he cut himself off with a sigh as he heavily dropped into his desk chair. Bokuto felt overwhelmed just looking at the numerous stacks of heavy books lining the desk, so of course he hadn’t protested when his friend asked for another hour to finish up. He hadn’t been excited to sit and do nothing for an hour, but even he wasn’t going to complain when the usually cool and collected guy seemed so frazzled.

So after running back down to the kitchen to grab some snacks, he’d settled down on Kuroo’s bed to wait, scrolling aimlessly through his phone to try and quell his boredom and keep his restlessness at bay for a bit.

That, of course, didn’t work for long. After maybe 50 minutes —a new record!— he started stealing glances at Kuroo over his phone and as time continued to pass he became more and more concerned. He could practically feel the stress rolling off him in waves as he flipped through another workbook, so Bokuto did the only thing he could think to do at the moment, with what little information he had on whatever was happening; He messaged Kenma.

After tapping out a simple “whats wrong with Kuroo?” he’d set his phone down, not expecting much from it. Even though he barely contacted the guy on his own, Bokuto knew Kenma was terrible at responding to anyone who wasn’t Hinata. This obviously meant his chances of getting a reply before the day ended were slim. He practically jumped to grab his phone when it lit up again, only minutes after sending the message. Pretty damn fast for Kenma of all people.

From Kozume Kenma:

entrance exams. he’s been like that all week.

Ohhhhh. That made sense. Bokuto looked over at Kuroo again, as he glared down at his calculator, a new kind of disdain burning in his eyes. Bokuto hadn’t given the exams much thought honestly, but to Kuroo they surely mattered a lot.

When Kuroo told him that he was going to be quitting Volleyball once they graduated to pursue a career in the marketing side of things, Bokuto’d both understood completely and not gotten it at all.

He’d never really know how anyone could give up something that gave him such a thrill and brought him such joy. Sure, Nekoma wasn’t exactly a powerhouse school, but Kuroo was still a damn good blocker. He surely could’ve made it onto at least a division 2 team if he tried. Still, his friend was different. He wanted something else and that was okay. What wasn’t okay was the fact that he seemed set on working himself to death for it.

To Kozume Kenma:

k im gonna fix him

This time the reply was instantaneous. A simple “good luck” that felt suspiciously like Kenma doubting him. He scoffed, looking over at Kuroo again. The guy was probably even more tired than he looked. Koutaro could definitely take him in the messed up state he was in. Then again, he was incredibly stubborn when he wanted to be.

Bokuto glanced down at his phone. He’d already gone 20 minutes over the promised hour. That plus the whole week Kenma described had to be enough time for now. Going for that long without a real break sounded insane to Bokuto, and there was no way it was healthy either.

“Hey Kuroo,” Bokuto called, sitting up and grabbing his phone after sending a final text off to Kenma (An assortment of emojis portraying his confidence and competence at the given task). When his eyes fell on Kuroo, he hadn’t moved at the sound of his name.

“Kuroo?” He tried again. Still no response. It seemed the blocker was lost in his own world of textbooks and pages on pages of meticulous notes. Bokuto practically shuddered at the sight. He didn’t know how his friend could stare at all of that for so long.

Standing and taking a few steps away from the bed landed him right behind the desk chair. He frowned. Kuroo still hadn’t even noticed him moving around. Then he reached across the desk to retrieve a different colored pen and an idea popped into his head. Bokuto, always quite the impulsive person, followed it without question.

He quietly set his phone down on the opposite side of the desk to free his other hand and then reached out and jabbed him in the ribs on both sides. The action was instantly rewarded with a jolt and a squeak from Kuroo, a clatter from his pencil when it fell from his hand, and a loud triumphant laugh from Bokuto himself. Kuroo whipped around, scowling, “What the hell, man?”

“Your hour is way up bro,” Kuroo raised an eyebrow at him and scrambled for his phone. Once he found it beneath a large stack of colorful print outs, Bokuto saw the suspicion and slight annoyance in his eyes turn into guilt.

“Shit,” he turned to actually face him and Bokuto could see the way his shoulders sagged and his hands fidgeted in his lap in a very un-Kuroo-like fashion, “I’m sorry Bo,”

Koutaro gave him a bright smile in an extra effort to assuage his guilt, “It’s no problem, we can just go now!” He exclaimed, straightening and nodding at the door. Kuroo hesitated at that but before he could say anything, Bokuto’s phone chimed from its place on the desk. It lit up for both of them to see and Kuroo’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Why’s Kenma texting you?” He asked. A hint of his usual smirk flashed across his face as he peered at the deadpan emoticon, familiar and characteristic of his childhood friend. Bokuto bristled at the question. Why wouldn’t Kenma text him? Sure they weren’t exactly close, but Kuroo didn’t need to look so smug about it!

“I text a lot of people!” He replied, tucking his arms to his chest petulantly, “and you were busy,” he added before he could think better of it.

Kuroo immediately deflated at the reminder of his work. The glimmer of his usual playful self vanishing as he looked back over at his collection of practice booklets and papers and whatever else was strewn across his desk. Then he bit his cheek, and Bokuto knew he was going to argue before he even forced it out.

“Bo, I should probably keep going,” Kuroo frowned, his words almost pained, as if just the idea of going back to studying hurt him. That was what really solidified everything in Bokuto’s mind, “Maybe we can-“

“Nope,” Bokuto said succinctly before launching his attack with the overwhelming energy of a hyperactive athlete who’d just sat in one place for way too long. Kuroo squirmed in place as the spiker snuck a hand up his side. He was unable to stop from giggling already, too caught off guard by the suddenness.

“W-Whahahat the fuhuhuck, Bokuto?”

Bokuto shrugged and used his other hand to scribble at his neck. He made no effort to hide his shit eating grin when his friend squeaked in response, attempting to lean away in the chair, “You’ve been doing this for wayyyy to long,” he chuckled, grin only widening when the best defense Kuroo could muster was to slap at his wrists. Weak at best, but compared to his usual struggle, it was even more lackluster for the self proclaimed provocation master, “You can barely even fight back!”

“Shuhut uhuhup- Bohoho!” Kuroo’s volume went up in slight alarm. Bokuto grabbed onto his arm, using it to pull him out of his chair while simultaneously continuing his attack on his waist. Then he sent him falling back into his bed with a gentle shove, easily maneuvering him into a semi-pinned position with a practiced grace. Now with one of his arms held firmly away from his side, Tetsuro was feeling a lot more vulnerable. The shift was evidenced in the more frantic giggling as he tried to muster enough energy to pull away from Bokuto’s playful torment.

“Don’t worry, we can get you some barbecue! It’ll fix you right up!” Bokuto exclaimed, as if he wasn’t currently digging his wriggling fingers into Kuroo’s stomach to make him shriek louder. Still, he shook his head wildly.

“Ngh- ahahah ihihi- ihihihi neheheed to stuhuDy!” He tried, his voice shooting up an octave when Bokuto decided that the dips in his hip bones were a suitable place to grab and squeeze. Damn Bokuto and his stupidly extensive knowledge of this particular weakness.

“Mmm no,” Bokuto responded, slowing his fingers to fluttery circle to let the other captain breathe, “From what I hear you’ve already done way too much of that! It’s break time!” Kuroo took in the extra air greedily. As he did, he leveled his friend with an incredulous stare.

“How did you even-?” Kuroo started before his expression dropped and his eyes darkened in realization. His gaze went back up to Bokuto’s face where he was leaning over him curiously, “Kenma,”

“Yup,” Kotarou laughed boisterously and nodded his confirmation, “This is an intervention man,” The blocker scowled and started to say something that sounded like the word “traitor” but he was quickly cut off by his own hysterical giggling. The break was over, and Bokuto had decidedly shoved his hands higher to scratch at his friend’s ribs at the sign of continued resistance.

“He- aHA shihit! Hehehe’s lying!” Kuroo yelled through his laughter, desperately trying to catch Bokuto’s wrists as his hands seemed to continue crawling their way up his torso, “Lehehehet mehe uhuhup!”

Bokuto scoffed and smirked at his panicked movements, “Not a chance,” His hands didn’t pause for a second as they avoided Kuroo’s grasp. When they honed in on the space between his top two ribs he threw his head back with a helpless cackle. Bokuto had to bite down on a fond smile at the sound, “Now come on! Just say you’re gonna stop overworking yourself and come get food with your best friend!”

“KehenmahaAh’s my behest friehehend!” Kuroo jeered defiantly, apparently still sassy despite everything. Bokuto narrowed his eyes and dug into his ribs harder, making him throw his head back with the force of his laughter.

“Rude,” If Kuroo wasn’t so busy dying, he would’ve teased Kotarou for the childish pout on his face, “but fine, your second best friend,” he corrected laboriously, as if the Nekoma student was in any place to properly respond to him.

“Gahahahah yohou’re ridihiculous!”

“Blah blah blah, let’s go get food Kurooooo!”

“I hahave to- wahahait! No no no Bo DoHON’T!” The resounding screech that Kuroo let out when Bokuto’s fingers finally made contact with the soft skin of his underarms was priceless. He fell into a fit of insane laughter as the other captain watched proudly. His hyena laugh even made an appearance, sending Bokuto himself into manic giggling as he set about driving his friend crazy. “BWAHAHAHA NOHOHO NAHA BOHOHO!”

“What was that?” He teased watching as any final hope of escape fell away, leaving Kuroo a laughing mess. His hair was skewed all of the place along with his clothes that had ridden up in his struggles. His face was bright red, from embarrassment, laughter, or both Bokuto didn’t know, but it was entertaining any way. It was also comforting to see that even in his almost catatonic pre exam state, his friend was still capable of loosing himself in something as simple as tickling.

“FIHIHINE! FINE FINE FIHIHINE!” Kuroo screamed, giving up his pride at last. Anything was worth it at this point just to stop the sensations taking over his brain. All he could think of was the way Bokuto’s deft fingers were scribbling over his underarms and how no matter how he jerked or squirmed or squeezed his arms to his sides it just wouldn’t stop. He could never handle being tickled there long and Bokuto was taking full advantage of that information, “AHAH YOHOHOU- GahHAH YOU WIHIHIN DAMNIT JUHUHUST STAHAHAP!”

Bokuto shot up from the bed, stopping to throw his arms up in a cheer. His loud shout of “HEY HEY HEY!” in victory was lost on Kuroo though. He was too busy trying to catch his breath where he laid K.O.ed on his bed. Still, when Bokuto finished celebrating and turned back to him he looked better. Still tired, but significantly less stressed out of his mind.

Even as he punched him in the shoulder in revenge, his posture had relaxed and there was a wide grin left on his face. And as the last of his giggles faded away, Bokuto was inclined to believe that it was genuine.

“Come on bro, I wanna go check out the new Rec center by the park!” Bokuto yelled, earning a raised eyebrow from Kuroo as he moved around his room, picking out new clothes for their outing. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it into his laundry basket before turning to face him.

“I thought you said we were getting barbecue?” He asked, amusement coloring his tone as he picked up a new shirt. Bokuto smirked.

“Both,” he replied, squeezing Kuroo’s sides as he lifted his arms to put it on. He laughed loudly, batting his hands away and shaking his head.

“Ahaha enouhough!” He giggled, taking a few shaky breaths. Then his taunting tone returned at last, “As long as you’re paying man,” His usual smirk was now secured back in its place, for better or for worse.

Then he ducked into the bathroom just in time to avoid Bokuto’s distressed groan. Rest In Peace his wallet.

Still though, he was admittedly happy that Kuroo was back to normal, even if that meant that he was back to being a stingy jerk.

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

Sneaking Glances

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Anon asked:  Hello my happiness how are you all? I didn't know youre taking requests 😵😵 can you write for tobirama crossing paths with a Kunoichi from another leaf? She was taking a shower in a river and do as you wish! Can you make it nsfw? Thank you soooooooo much! 💖 Lots of love 👌👏

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Hello anon, and thank you for requesting with us! I hope you enjoy this scenario! And thank you so much for liking our writing! 

Warning/tags: river sex, sneaking peeks, outdoor dirty time

If you are not of age, PLEASE DO NOT READ

>Admin 𝕋

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 Soaring through the trees, Tobirama has been on the move for days now. A mission that was only a week long, turned out to be twice that much, spanning to about two weeks, making Tobirama want to rip his hair out. But, finally, he was done with said mission and was heading home. Though, he was getting quite tired, having been jumping from tree to tree for six hours straight. He didn’t want to tired himself, lest he passes out and never makes it home. His brother would worry too much if that happened.

As he thought about stopping for a moment, he spotted a river close by, the water shining with sunlight, clear and clean. Sighing in relief, Tobirama slowed his pace and dropped from the high branches to the hard ground. Taking a break and drinking some clean river water sounded amazing, now that he was no longer running. And so, he tiredly walked to the the stream, thinking about how delicious the water will be until--

 He saw someone he knew. Someone from a different village, a kunoichi he never thought he would see again. Someone that made his heart feel like it was constricting every time he saw her, her smile, and confidence. 

(y/n) was in the stream, her hair wet, and her body naked as she bathed in the warm rays of the sun. She had been travelling for far too long without cleaning herself, and it would have been a few more days until she could reach the next hotel. But, when she saw the glisten of the river, she was excited to strip off her clothes and dive right in to clean off all the grime and stench of the past week of travel. (y/n) didn’t even think about the fact that someone could run into her cleaning her body and sneak glances at it, like some sort of pervert.

Like Tobirama was doing right now. He was hiding in the bushes, trying to be as quiet as possible as he watched (y/n) shine, her body covered with water. He couldn’t see a lot, though, seeing as her back was to him. But, it wasn’t all for naught, his own body shivering with lust as he gazed down to her round and defined ass. 

When they met, it was only for two days. He was in her home village, sending a message to their elders. Something about an alliance, though he couldn’t be too positive; he couldn’t be bothered to care much. Especially since the attendant kunoichi that was showing him around was her. She didn’t speak much, but Tobirama knew that she thought he was attractive. It was written all over her face. And the sentiment was mutual. It was tragic that Tobirama had to leave the next day.

So, when he saw her in the river, cleaning herself, he was stricken with surprise, and without thinking he started to walk over to the stream, clearing his throat to catch her attention.

(y/n) whirled around, and as she saw the white haired man, she yelped and dove under the under, covering her breasts from his sight. “Master Tobirama?! W-what are you doing here?” she asked in an astonishing tone, eyeing her surroundings to see if there was anybody else with him.

“Oh, I was just on my way home, and I saw you, and I just kind of. Stopped. To see you.” Tobirama mumbled, crossing his arms. (y/n) looked up and down and saw how his posture clearly indicated he was trying to hide something.

“Yeah, and so you thought you would just stop and see me, naked and blatantly bathing. So, you’re a pervert.” she stated, an eyebrow raised. Tobirama blinked rapidly and spluttered, trying to defend himself, but it was exactly how it looks.

Oh my god, he really was a pervert. Sighing out in defeat, his shoulders drooping, Tobirama looked down at the grass, making sure not to look at her body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to seem like that. I just--I saw you and my body just moved on its own.” he told her, surprising. Of course, she was only joking. She didn’t mind him looking, seeing as she felt some great chemistry between them when he was in her hometown. 

“I don’t really mind. I-I mean, I thought that since we had this thing going on when you were in my village--”

“Oh, yes, I felt it too.” he interrupted, suddenly getting a bit energetic and walking closer to the water, to her. He didn’t realize he had gotten too close and accidentally soaked his shoes. She giggled at him, beginning to relax in his presence. 

“Well, I’m glad you felt the same way.” (y/n) swam through the water until her chest was exposed to him, only her lower half still in the river. Tobirama went wide eyed and tried not to stare, but it was difficult. All he wanted to do was stare. “You’re pretty stubborn, you know that.”

“I get told that by my brother a lot.” he muttered, feeling his chest tighten as (y/n) got closer. He saw her smile, and he could have sworn his heart had stopped beating. 

“Hmmmm, if your aren’t busy, would you like to join me?” (y/n) asked, casually wrapping her arms around Tobirama’s neck. It was only then did he see that she was fully out of the water, her whole body exposed. She didn’t seem like she was embarrassed anymore, in fact, it seemed like she was the opposite of embarrassed, though Tobirama couldn’t pin what it was. It’s like her whole demeanor changed. With the might of a thousand men, Tobirama did his best to  answer her. 

“I, uhm, I would like that. If you don’t mind.” he responded, making her chuckle. And without another word, she started to take undress the man in front of her, showing off his broad and muscled chest and defined arms. She could feel her cheeks getting hot as she continued to disrobe him until he was in all but his underwear. 

(y/n) she pointed to them and said, “You can do that one, or keep them on, though I don’t recommend it.” She waded back into the water until it hit her waist and turned around to watch Tobirama slowly follow after her. He had taken his underwear off, now completely naked for (y/n) to see. And as he walked into the water, she stared unabashedly at Tobirama’s hard on. “It seems like you are quite excited.” she stated pointing down to his dick. 

“How could I not when I have such a beautiful person in front of me.” the man said with conviction, causing (y/n) to blush. He came closer to her, to where their bodies’ were almost touching. She could feel his heat from his skin, and the way his eyes screamed that he wanted to touch her ;it was making her core ache and her knees weak. And so very slowly, Tobirama, without breaking eye contact, he lifted his hands and wrapped one around (y/n)’s waist and the other on her cheek. She felt like her skin was on fire, where he was touching her, and she watched as his face got closer to hers until their noses touched. 

When their lips connected it felt like fireworks were going off in the distance, the feel of his lips on hers making her want to moan loudly. She responded tenfold, putting her hands around his sternum and hugged him closer to her body, feeling his erect cock on her thigh. Her heart was racing as they made out, letting their tongues touch, while they both roamed each other’s body. She heard Tobirama grunt and it immediately made her wet, turning her on immensely. The kisses were getting hungrier now, moving fast and hungry. She could feel his hard dick starting to rub against her thigh trying to get that sweet friction, that wonderful pleasure.

Suddenly, Tobirama lifted her leg and put it on his hip, making his cock slide right in between her lips, causing her to moan into the kiss. He started to move his hips, back and forth, while gripping her leg to keep it in place. “Master Tobi--” (y/n) moaned, letting her head fall back, trusting the man to keep her up.

He wanted to be inside her, to feel her around him, to hear her scream his name as she took him with ease. He wanted to hold her and connect with her.

Tobirama started to curl around (y/n), trying to get her closer to his body, and as he was doing so, his cock was starting to slide into her aching pussy, causing her groan wantonly, indicating that she is loving every second of him inserting his dick into her. When he was fully inside, he stayed there for a second, letting her adjust. “You can move now, Master Tobirama.” she whispered to him. 

With a low growl he muttered to her, “After I’m done, you won’t be able to walk.”

[piracytheorist]

A ridiculously needed defense of Mia Winters

(and I say ridiculously because I don't particularly care for her as a character. But I care for Ethan, and I care that he went through so much shit to save her and never gave up or even thought to, so by extension Mia needs to make sense to me so I need to have a clear image of her in my mind to justify Ethan's ridiculously brave actions in re7, and his devotion to her in re8. But also because my experience watching the show Once Upon a Time and engaging with its fandom has taught me to not hate on characters when they're not fully fleshed out and their bad actions are not adequately explained, especially when said characters are women written by men. And considering that Ethan himself is not fully fleshed out in re7 either, it's no wonder Mia's character is suffering)

So. I'm not here to tell people they're wrong to hate or even just dislike or distrust Mia. That's not my point. But if you do continue to read after the title, you're checking in on your own accord. And my main gripe with people hating on Mia is that they seem to dislike her character when the game itself didn't give much of a good basis on her character in the first place. So yeah, being a woman myself and having seen how fandoms work, I do tend to get a little pissed when people (no matter their gender) are so ready to hate on female characters for no good reason.

Now, I'm not saying Mia is a saint, far from it. RE7 makes clear she holds a lot of the responsibility for what happened, and she even accepts that. But she's also been given redeeming qualities, if you're willing to look for them.

The first glimpse we get of Mia is of her sending a happy message to Ethan, then immediately after we see her admit her wrong and warn him to stay away from her. There's a reason we even get the second video, and that's called setting. The writers wanted Mia to be shown as protective over Ethan while also accepting responsibility from the very first moment - and it's something that repeats itself when we do find her. She apparently has no idea she asked Ethan to come, she self-harms in an effort to stop hurting him, and even through Eveline's control she manages to tell him to leave her.

(like idk why people take lightly the fact that she fucking banged her head on a wall, giving herself a concussion, all in an effort to protect Ethan from what she knew she had turned into but leave it to a fandom to underplay self-harm I guess)

But that's only from the beginning, and from the confused POV of Ethan and a first time player. In Mia's flashback, we see that she'd been given orders that should Eveline get out of control, she had to be eliminated. Now, Eveline had grown fond of Mia, and she was super powerful herself. Taking a powerful being on your side and using them to be on top? That's a super villain origin story if I ever heard one. But Mia doesn't even consider it, from the first moment that civilians are getting in danger, she's ready to eliminate Eveline.

And that's when the first holes start appearing. For what kinds of wars did Mia know that Eveline was made for? How long had she been working with The Connections? Was it before or after marrying Ethan? How did they approach her? How did they know she'd be okay with making a bioweapon to assist in wars? And as herself, how deep was she willing to go in terms of human experimentation?

That's all stuff we have no way of knowing, and frankly any answer, from one extreme to the other, can be assumed. For all we know The Connections approached her, and before she had even realized she was assisting them in creating Eveline. So in general I feel it's kinda unbased to jump on the Mia Hating Train so easily when there's so much missing from the whole story.

Though again, I’m not here to tell people what to like and what not to like. It’s just that I feel there’s a bit too much focus on how Mia is such a horrible person and the true villain of the story and like, it’s getting super tiring, entering fandoms and seeing people being so fucking pissed at some characters. Like, ok. You can’t like everything. But it feels like some people are trying to make that everyone else’s problem.

And the victim blaming is not helping, either. People say all of what happened in re8 is Mia’s fault because she didn’t tell Ethan the truth about what he is, and like. Are we fucking serious. Like I see people call Chris dumb for not explaining the story to Ethan from the beginning, and how it could’ve made things much more simpler if he had, but I don’t think I’ve seen anyone call him the villain of the story (if anything because without him being cryptic we wouldn’t have had the story in the first place). He had his reasons to be cryptic, and if you pause your hate train for a moment, you’ll realize Mia had her reasons as well. We don’t know how long she knew that Ethan was all mold - she wasn’t even conscious during the moment Jack killed Ethan in the first place to see how serious the injury was. For all we knew she only noticed while being pregnant with Rose, or after she was born - so we can’t really blame her for not speaking up. If anything, considering she did realize it and still she stayed with him and knew he and his feelings mattered (”We matter, Ethan! You matter!”) is a big thing. She also seemed to want to tell him, but like, how do you even begin such a discussion? Ethan also saw that she was troubled; you can’t convince me that they were like this, with Ethan knowing she was holding something from him, and Mia knowing and knowingly having a child with him who would definitely be infected by Mold, for three fucking years.

Like at some point you start going like “They can’t have shown us such a fucking toxic relationship and expected us to feel sad for Mia at the end.” But like, people do believe that yes they intended them to be so toxic and Mia to be such a horrible person and for us to just shrug at it, so of course they would blame everything on Mia and not like, idk, Miranda, who was actually the one actively harming the entire Winters family. Or that Rose getting kidnapped was because Mia had been working with The Connections, and that’s how Miranda found out about her, and I’m like, y’all can’t separate butterfly effect from actual blame, can you? Ethan and Mia decided to have a kid two whole years after the Baker incident - when they felt they were safe, on the clear from whatever could be chasing them. They were on witness protection, the newspaper Ethan looks at in the beginning says that Ethan and Mia’s whereabouts are unknown; they were understandably feeling safe to move on with their lives, until someone from The Connections found where Mia was, and through them Miranda was able to learn about Rose. That’s an entirely different concept from Mia being careless or carrying the entire blame for Rose getting kidnapped or Ethan being self-sacrificingly determined to save her. But of course, let’s hate on Mia and then seriously ship Ethan with the villains because they have redeeming qualities and Mia doesn’t ig

I don’t know. Maybe I’m a bit too jumpy of people hating on female characters. But on the other hand, it says a lot that I don’t really care much for Mia or her character, so it’s not like I feel defensive because my fave is receiving hate. If anything, Ethan is my fave, he gets much more uncalled-for hate and I just shrug that off because who gives a fuck about them haters right. But with Ethan... I feel that the hate he receives is mostly because he subverted expectations; he’s not your average trained badass who knows what he’s doing and remains calm through anxious situations, he’s the exact opposite, and people hate on him for not being the former like... you’re missing the entire point of Ethan purposefully being clueless, panicking, saying cringy-ass quips, and honestly, your fucking loss lmao. With Mia, it feels like people choose to see the worst in her when there aren’t too many things to see. And knowing stuff about the world of gaming, it’s fucking telling. In the world of fandom, that’s just fucking annoying. I hate stuff too. But after a certain point you learn to not make your biases everybody else’s problem. Or at least you should. What would I know, being here hoping fandoms could be calmer places.

[echo-three-one]

Chapter 32

THE ROAD SO FAR

Mr. and Mrs. MacTavish

Francine "France" Winters

MacTavish Residence, Glasgow Scotland

3:46 AM

Francine squinted her eyes as she checked her phone, the bright light illuminated her whole visage. No new messages. John promised her he'd text her as soon as the mission was over. According to their briefing, the recon mission should've ended about four hours ago.

She shifted her position and turned to Maxine who looked sound asleep. A soft smile escaped her lips once she realized that Maxine was safe within her reach.

She forced her eyes to close again but couldn't quite get the sleep she needed. She wondered if John ever got tired running in her mind. After failing her last attempt to get some sleep, she slowly got up and made her way to the kitchen for some milk.

Much to her surprise, the kitchen lights were open and Samantha sat on the dining table, her chin rested on her arms as she stared on her phone.

"Can't sleep?" France asked and it shocked Samantha a little.

"Yeah. He's supposed to text me three hours ago. Now I can't help but worry." Samantha groaned in frustration.

"John promised that too…" she slowly placed her phone on the table and it beeped. The womens eyes widened as France excitedly unlocked her phone.

Her smile almost reached the heavens but soon after reading the notification, she suddenly went back to her frown.

"What was it?" Samantha asked, raising her head and looked at Francine.

"A software update notification." Francine sighed and went to grab a glass of milk.

"Say, France… has it ever crossed your mind that John would be the one you'll end up marrying?" Samantha asked. Francine's cheeks burned immediately at the idea as she envisioned herself living in a house with three children with mohawks running around. She wasn't ready for all of it but she's blushing at the sheer idea of it as if she liked it.

"Umm… uh.. I'm not sure. Sam." her tone was really suspicious, as if hiding something and making up blatant lies. She just wished Samantha couldn't see through her.

"Sorry for that kind of question. It's just that… I think that Alex is the one for me… that's why I'm this worried about him. I couldn't sleep knowing he's not beside me…" Samantha explained while pondering her situation. If that was the case for her, then France's insomnia could also mean that she's…

"I guess it's normal to feel that way…" France defended, downing a half full glass of milk.

"You've been with him for quite some time and you both admittedly loved each other, that's why you showed concern toward him." She continued.

"So, that goes to you too? Right?" Samantha asked. France once again got cornered by her own train of thought.

"Look. Yes. I'm concerned about John too… he's…" she smiled.

"He's something else… I'm far too ready to reopen myself to a relationship and he actually told me he was willing to wait and be a friend in need." she continued, now her heart was beating slowly but fluttering at the idea of her thoughts. John was willing to wait. That meant that she could have all the time at her disposal until she was ready to love again. But such time needed was already up, as she was already denying the inevitable feeling of love she was projecting toward the Scotsman.

"Sounds like you're already ready." Samantha teased.

"No I'm not!" France immediately dismissed her, grabbed her phone and went back to bed.

"As a matter of fact, I'll sleep right now!" She said as Samantha just laughed and waved goodnight.

France slowly paced in front of John's room. She felt as if there was a huge magnet pulling her towards it and the longer her phone doesn't ring, the more convinced she was to get in. Succumbing to temptation, she pushed the doors open and sneaked her way in.

His room was always her favorite place in the house. It showcased a lot of his personality that no one could ever see in him. Landscape drawings and sketches filled the room. Football jerseys with autographs were framed on the walls along with photos with his favorite athletes.

At first glance, everyone would say that John MacTavish had it all, but when you're staring at his eyes while having a heart to heart talk, you would know that that isn't all true. He didn't have it all.

France saw his black journal by the bed. It was strange that he didn't bring it for his mission. Last time you asked him what's inside, he just chuckled and said "mission details", showing a sketch of Price labeled 'caterpillar moustache'.

France was then again tempted to open the page where he left off, showing a beautifully sketched face of her, occupying the whole page.

"Tough on the outside, soft in the inside. Just like me." was written on the corner of the page.

"I knew that you saw through me the moment we met…" She whispered as she closed the journal and yawned, crashing on his huge bed they both shared days ago when she needed someone to talk to. Covering herself with the thick covers, she inhaled the signature MacTavish scent which still lingered on his bed and it was actually effective enough to lull her to sleep. It's as if he was there beside her.

France woke up as soon as it came to her senses that Maxine would be looking for her. Throwing the covers away, she immediately rushed back to her room. Pulling the door open and sneaking her way back.

The silent clattering of the plates and casual conversations filled the kitchen. Jack was talking about some of his experiences while Samantha and Maxine were giggling. Much to her curiosity regarding the two unknown voices, both male and female, she slowly descended the staircase and peeked.

Aside from Jack, Samantha and Maxine, there was a man and a woman, possibly married, who sat together by the table. She actually felt nervous once her sight landed on the man. If he was younger, his resemblance with John would be almost accurate. And judging by that look, Francine leaned to the idea that this was John's father.

John's father had the physical qualities of a Scotsman but the appeal of a western businessman. His accent was almost not Scottish.

"Ahh. I miss my home so much. Do you mind if I let loose a little?" Mr. MacTavish asked and his wife, judging by the body language of holding on his hands, chuckled at his idea.

"Don't worry. It's your home. You should feel comfortable." Jack replied with a smile.

With a deep sigh, Mr. MacTavish actually let loose and exhaled a very deep ramble in s heavy Scottish accent. His wife replied with the same energy and everyone cackled. France was amazed at how easygoing his parents were and it told a lot about John's upbringing.

"Ooh! Looks like our other guest woke up!" Mrs. MacTavish mused upon making eye contact with France.

"So Maxine, this is your sister?" Mr. MacTavish.

"Yes, Mr. Jonathan. It's Francine." Maxine answered and France waved and smiled at the MacTavishes. Her whole body felt awkwardly nervous. She felt like this was the 'Meet the Parents' part, except they weren't really a thing… yet.

"Nice to finally meet you, Sir Jonathan and Ma'am…" France shook his hand and paused at Mrs. MacTavish.

"It's Julianne." She smiled and shook her hand. For a moment, Francine actually felt her heartwarming touch as she slowly eased the nervousness away.

"Don't be scared of us dear. We don't bite." She smiled and Francine smiled back. When John told her about how serene he felt around his mother, he wasn't joking. Her aura was powerful.

"Honey, looks like there are a lot more women in the force nowadays. Have you ever wondered if our boy John has liked any of them?" he asked playfully while France was trying her hardest not to choke on her orange juice. It looks like Max and Samantha were just giggling on their own.

"Well dear, why don't we leave it up to John to introduce us to her." She chuckled and held her husband's hand.

"Where is he anyway?" Jonathan looked back by the door.

"He's still on a mission." France answered and everyone else looked at her.

"What I mean is, they are still on their way home." She corrected, stuttering as she replied.

"Well, it's such a shame we had to leave now. Duty calls!" Jonathan stood up and everyone followed them to the front door, waving their goodbyes. France shyly followed behind them and joined the group as they sent their goodbyes to John's parents.

As soon as the car left their sights, everyone else eased and released the pressure they felt.

"Woooah. Soap has some nice parents. I thought they'll get mad at us for crashing in!" Maxine said, sitting beside France.

"Well, Soap just proved to us that not all businessmen are evil, despite what television suggests." Jack added and yawned. It was still early and he already planned on sleeping.

Samantha sat there and stared at her phone. France checked hers too and called her attention.

"I didn't get any texts from him. But I assure you, they'll be here soon."

"So, tell me how worried you were when I didn't text." John smugly asked France while he emerged from the showers, a clean white towel was the only thing wrapping his body.

France just sat by the bed, her whole body facing opposite John. Her brows still furrowed at the idea that he wasn't able to text her that they finished the mission without harm.

Their arrival earlier was not quite the arrival she expected. Her heart was supposed to flutter at the sight of John, but instead sadness filled the whole house. Alexandra Ryder was gone, and it would be too rude to reach for his embrace at the time of mourning.

"I wasn't worried one bit." She spat and crossed her arms. He could hear John laughing a little and she wanted to look at him, but his stubbornness needed to be fixed, that is if she could.

"Really? Then how come I heard from Samantha that you were up at three-" France quickly turned to her back in an attempt to stop his trail of thought, but she was surprised that John's face was already close to hers as he was crawling towards her while he talked.

France's world paused for a little as her eyes met his, gaze locked on his icy blue stare as her heart started to beat differently and her ears started to heat up, and lips slowly formed a smile.

Her eyes trailed down to his lips, where it also happened to curve differently. He was smiling and it never occurred to her that John had smiled like that before. Her lips involuntarily pouted as she felt John's face inch closer to hers, as she slowly closed her eyes and let the Scotsman take over her lips.

The first kiss was quick, their lips just met each other for a short while and they both backed up, eyes locked on to each other, both sparkling and wanting for more.

"Fine." France whispered and reached for his cheek.

"I can't stop worrying about you, dumbass." she added and John let out a soft chuckle, leaning in for another kiss, but this time it was more than they both wanted. This time it felt like they were released from all the things constraining them. France actually gave in to him for the second time, and she was glad that she did this, because John sure was a very good kisser.

Next Chapter : The Broken Ship

Notification Squad my Beloved

@beemybee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @smokeywhalee @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach

[iyatsumu]

It’s Not All Games; Kenma Kozume

Genre: Fluff, Arcade Date

Word Count: 4.3K

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is my first Haikyuu oneshot and I hope you will support my work and future ones. I’ve only recently watched it (I know pretty late right?) and I’m already in love with the series. This was definitely a tricky story to write especially since it was only requested and I’m not a person that goes to arcades so I was not sure about things that happen in arcades. I hope you enjoy my oneshots! See you in the next one :))

"Everyone make sure to rest well this weekend and enjoy the day. We'll return to vigorous training starting next week since we have friendly match against Furokodani Academy. Don't take this game lightly for we all know their members enjoy a challenging game, especially Bokuto Koutarou. So, I want everyone to be in their best shapes by then. Dismissed." Another tired sigh left Kenma's lips as he stuffs his jersey that reeked of sweat and drenched towels into a specific compartment in his gym bag. Sticking his hand into a smaller zipper, he pulls out his Nintendo Switch and starts playing another video game. "Kenma, how are things with you and Y/N?" Kuroo, their captain asked as he slung his bag over his shoulders, a curious grin played on his lips. Kenma glances up to take a glimpse of his senior's grin and focuses back to his game, giving Kuroo a small nod as an answer. Clearly annoyed at the dullness of his friend, Tetsurou grabs the gadget and switches it off. Nothing changed in Kenma's expression as he stared at his captain dead in the eyes, void of any emotions. Grabbing the gadget from Tetsurou, he stuffs it back into his bag and simply hangs his head low as the other break into conversations.   "Do you even go out on dates?" Taketora asks as he snakes his arm over Kenma's shoulders. "Dates?" Kenma asked softly, his voice almost inaudible. Taketora then nods, waiting for his friend's reply. "Uh, she travels to Nerima to watch some practice games from time to time." Kenma answers and the rest of the group stare at the boy in disbelief. Kuroo smacks the back of Kenma's head as he walks in front of the group. "That is not a date Kenma. Does Y/N even have reassurance that you like her? It seems as if she's more of a fan than your girlfriend if she has to travel to our school to see you." The older boy says and the rest agrees. "So?" At that moment, Tetsurou simply wanted to pummel the younger boy into a pulp. "Seriously Kenma? Do you actually like Y/N?" Taketora asks as the group finally exits the school gates. Kenma Kozume was a very dull person. He was somewhat emotionless, he shows no reactions, despite being in pain or facing difficulties, Kenma would never show any signs of weakness. You knew getting into a relationship would be hard, however you were willing to risk it for Kenma. You first met during a tournament in middle school. Kenma was your schoolmate, he was a year older and was a part of the boys’ volleyball team while you were a freshman and the spiker of the girls’ volleyball team. Both of you would often bump into each other since the school did not have enough space for separate courts to cater both teams. There were times where both coaches had to agree on schedules for the court, but when tournaments are around the corner, both teams had to adjust and practice together.

During these games, Kenma would often be the setter while you were one of the spikers. Both coaches believed that both of you had a great combination, with Kenma's tactical style of play and your accurate ball placements and powerful spikes, the duo was nigh on perfect. However, that was all that you were to each other. Partners during combined practices. Outside the court, Kenma and you never talked or even paid attention to each other.  You moved to Furokodani Academy at the start of high school while Kenma transferred to Nekoma so both of you drifted apart. Not until you met during another tournament last year. Another fact about you is that, the reason you were a well-known spiker in the women's division was because you were Y/N Koutarou, the younger sister of Bokuto Koutarou, one of the Top 5 players in Japan. Since you were young, Bokuto would always drag you into mini challenges to know who was the better spiker, of course with the help of your mother acting as setter for both of you. Obviously, Bokuto would always win, he was a natural at it. However, that never bothered you, because after all that, Bokuto would encourage and help you improve yourself. With that, you have become one of the most fearsome spikers in the prefecture and claimed the position of team 'Ace' despite only being a freshman. 

___ Wiping the sweat that dripped from your forehead, you grab your water bottle and chug the remaining contents as the captain gave out assignments for the cleanup of today's practice. It was finally Friday, and practice had just ended. You started packing after placing all the balls back into the cart and pushing it into the storage room. From outside the club's room, you could hear your obnoxious brother's voice. "Y/N! Y/N, hurry. I have news!" You groan and turn to face your groupmates, bowing and saying your goodbye as you grabbed your bag and walked out the room. Bokuto was jumping up and down as he anticipated you to ask him what he wanted to say. "What do you want?" You asked as both of you walked out the school campus. "Our coach arranged a friendly match with Nekoma High. It's 2 weeks from now. Do you want to come with us? Watch me beat them and get Tetsurou to buy me a big bowl of ramen." He says excitedly, a devilish laugh following after. Bokuto may be one of the top players in Japan, but to you, he was a joke. Your brother had the mind of a 9-year-old boy with the body structure of a 20-year-old guy. Bokuto was buff with wide shoulders, but don't let his physical appearance fool you, he was the type of person to scream "mommy" on a Ferris wheel. "Good luck getting through Tetsurou's blocks. That guy is an amazing blocker with good judgement." You teased and Bokuto tensed up. He hated it when someone looked down on his talents, especially his spikes. "Y/N, Kuroo has nothing on my spikes. Besides, I too, am pretty smart." With that, you laughed loudly, Bokuto clearly confused with your sudden burst of laughter. "Don't make me laugh Bokuto. Tetsurou is an amazing blocker and captain, getting through him will be tougher than you think it is." You pointed out and grabbed your phone that was buzzing in your pocket. "You're probably just salty because I'm going to beat your precious boy, Kenma." Bokuto spat and you could feel your cheeks burn. Kenma and you were always the low-profile kind of relationship. Sure, you were official, however it was never a big deal to let the world know about the relationship. So far, only his team members know, courtesy to Kuroo Tetsurou for screaming it out loud during a practice and of course Bokuto and Akaashi. Not even your teammates knew about it, simply because you didn't want them geeking out about it. "Y/N?" It was a message from Kenma. Surprised was written all over your face, Kenma Kozume was never the type to send a message first. Usually, you would be the one to send a message after practice to talk about your day, but this was definitely new. You typed in your reply as you and Bokuto got into the bus to head back home. It was Saturday tomorrow so you could rest a lot when you finally got back. The Inter High Preliminaries ended a few weeks back and of course, both teams from Furokodani made it in. "Tetsurou forced me to ask you to go out tomorrow. If you're free." Your heart did mini backflips as you read the message. It's been a few weeks since you last saw Kenma. He invited you to have lunch with him and his friends after their match during the preliminaries, which they obviously won. "Sure, I'll message you when you arrive home." With that, you let out a pleased sigh and relax on the seat, closing your eyes to find comfort in the quiet bus. ___ After dinner, you immediately went into your room and got comfortable in the bed. Grabbing your phone, you typed in a message and sent it to Kenma. "I was wondering if you'd like to meet in Shinjuku? We can have some lunch and maybe visit my favorite arcade?" This was another thing that you absolutely loved about Kenma. He was a very simple person and it didn't take much to please him. Games and some sweet words from you would melt his heart. Kenma Kozume may seem like someone who was not into this relationship thing, he gives off vibes that may be misinterpreted as uninterested or dry, but Kenma was the opposite of that. He tries to be open about his emotions and lets you in mind from time to time. It took a few months before he was comfortable enough to let you in his mind, but the wait was worth it. For deep inside, Kenma was simply a little baby. He loved talking about his games with you, he enjoyed practicing your spikes with his tosses, and he absolutely adored it when you would borrow his gaming devices to try and beat his high scores. As months passed, Kenma slowly opened up to you about every little thing in his mind, he was no longer the dry Kozume that you met in middle school. "I think that sounds great Kenma. I'll see you tomorrow then?" You asked and he replied with a simple yes. The conversation went from there, as he talked about how he got annoyed by Taketora and Tetsurou constantly arguing during practice. It was almost midnight when Kenma finally decided he was sleepy and that you should rest too. So, with that, he messaged you goodnight and headed to bed. You smiled at his message and replied with the same one, switching off the phone and setting it aside. ___ The sound of numerous text messages woke Kenma up from his peaceful sleep. Grabbing his phone, he squinted at the device to make out the name "Captain" on his screen. It was Kuroo Tetsurou. "Hey, don't you have a date with Y/N?" "It's already 10." "You're going to be late." "You have to wait for her in Shinjuku you know?" "Kenma!" "Yeah Y/N is going to break up with you. Goodluck." Kenma sighed as he switched the device off and got out of bed. Hopping into the shower, Kenma washed up as quick as he could in order to catch the bus and not keep you waiting at the station. He wore a simple white t-shirt, grey sweatpants and an oversized black hoodie over his t-shirt. Kenma’s fashion style was always a casual and comfortable one, unlike Tetsurou who tends to wear blazers and chukka boots to bring out his classy persona. After sending you a message that he was on his way to Shinjuku, Kenma exits the house and walks towards the closest bus stop, which was about 3 minutes away from their house. He pulls out his earphones and plugs it into his gaming device, entering a new level as he makes his way towards the stop. You on the other hand was already on a bus headed for Shinjuku, although it would take you a few more minutes to arrive since you came from Edogawa, compared to Kenma who would probably come from Nerima. Focusing on the road ahead, you tap on the next song as you adjusted your earphones. It would take another 15 to 20 minutes before you would arrive in Shinjuku so you decided to relax in the bus. ___ Finally stepping out of the bus, Kenma pulled out his phone and sent you a message, indicating that he was already in Shinjuku. He said he would be waiting for you in one of the benches so you simply needed to send him a message if you've already arrived. You read his message and replied with a simple 'okay' as you adjusted the strap of your mini backpack. Based on the road, you were already close to the station so you prepared to leave. You were obviously excited to spend the day with Kenma, you couldn't even get the thought out of your mind when he asked you out last night. "Hey, how was the ride?" Kenma greeted the moment you stepped out of the bus. He was already waiting by the exit door of the bus when it pulled up in front of him. You smiled and nodded at him, indicating that it was pretty good. Kenma holds out his hand in front of you and you placed your hand atop his, he then intertwines your fingers and both of you walk towards one of the nearest shopping malls in Shinjuku. Both of you agreed to have some lunch first before heading to the arcade. Spotting a small booth by the windows, you tugged Kenma towards it and both of you got seated as a waiter follows after with the menus. You were in a small cozy restaurant in one of the malls of Shinjuku. "What do you want to have?" You asked Kenma as he looks through the menu. You had already decided on a bowl of Tonkotsu ramen and some green tea soda. It may not seem like it, but Kenma can eat a lot depending on his mood so you were anticipating his orders. "Maybe some rice with curry, two servings of tempura, miso soup and I'll also have a green tea soda." If you look at Kenma, that meal would probably be too much for him, however aside from games, Kenma also loved food, so you nodded happily and repeated your orders to the waiter. "How's your practice in school? You didn't tell me about its last night." Kenma initiated the conversation and you laughed. Due to being too exhausted last night, you weren't able to talk about your day. It was mostly Kenma doing the talking while you listened and tried not to fall asleep. "It's good. Our captain, Maki is still torn on what to do with Sara." You groaned, your mind wandering to the outburst of Maki yesterday. It was like any normal day in practice, the two of them could never get along with each other. Maki was the team captain and right-side spiker while Sara was the regular setter. They've been playing for 2 years but Maki could still not keep up with Sara's tosses and Sara wouldn't adjust for Maki either. To simplify their problem, Sara was never a team player. She hated it when people told her to change something in her play style or when others would point out a mistake in her tosses or timing. It always pissed Maki off but they couldn't do anything about it because the substitute setter was still a freshman just like you and she was slightly inexperienced. "Hmm, why don’t you just kick her out of the team?" Kenma asked and you shook your head. If that was possible, Sara would have been out of the team a long time ago. "The coach won't allow it. He says Sara is a great setter, we just need to find a way to get her to play for the team in a professional way." You sigh and Kenma stares at you emotionless. "If a setter can't adjust for his or her team, why bother playing? Volleyball is a team sport so if you can't play as a team, the meaning of the sport is rendered useless." Kenma says and your jaw dropped. He was always the smarter between the two of you. He spoke with such intelligence and facts that sometimes you'd forget that he was an emotionless person. Kenma takes pride in what he believes in and will argue you with what he deems as right, that is if he is the mood to do so. If not, he'll simply ignore you and walk away.   "That's the thing. But I can't do anything about it, Maki is still our captain and Sara is a year older than me, so I feel like I have no position to say anything." You admitted and Kenma shook his head. "Y/N, you're the team's ace. You have a valuable position and Sara as your setter, who refuses to cooperate with the team, how will you be able to perform well? She'll simply drag the team down." He pointed out and of course, he was right. With Sara and Maki's constant bickering, practice always seemed to be tensed. Sara's tosses were difficult to catch up with and that alone messes up your spikes. If it continues to happen, the team's performance will be a mess during the actual competition. The conversation went on until the food was served. The glint in Kenma's eyes were visible the moment the waiter placed his meals on the table. This guy and his love for food, seriously. ___ "Alright, so what game do you want to try first?" Kenma asked as his eyes scan around the arcade. Neon lights brightened up the place and there were not many people around. You stared at Kenma and at that moment, all your thoughts left your mind. He was bewitching, his blonde streaks appeared golden under the neon lights and his expressionless features with a small, almost invisible smile made him even more beautiful. Kenma Kozume couldn't be labeled as the 'heartbreaker' type of beauty, he was more of an adorable baby. Kenma had soft features and a heartwarming vibe, he may seem cold on the outside, but he was an absolute sweetheart when he is fully comfortable with you. "Uhm, Y/N?" He asked softly, his hand slowly waving up and down in front of you. "Oh, sorry. You just caught my attention." You admitted sheepishly and Kenma stood there, unable to find the proper words to answer you. He could feel a soft eruption in his stomach but he had no idea what it indicated, all he knew was you were adorable and knowing that he managed to catch your attention, made him all fuzzy inside. "But, anyways, I want to try some games that will win me some tickets. I really want to get that stuffed kitty." You pointed at the striped black and yellow plushed cat at the top shelf of the registrar. Kenma nodded and led you towards a racing game. "If you can get first place in the race, it'll give you a bunch of tickets. We could also try out the Pacman game after, but you'd have to beat some of the high scores to get tickets. Are you down?" He asked and you nodded excitedly. Both of you got seated on the plastic car seat as you insert coins to join the race. Bokuto always played this game and most of the time, he'd spill some tips on how he manages to pull up first place, so maybe you could use that to your advantage. As the race begins, you step on the accelerator and the animated car jolts forward. Although it was just a game, the thrill was definitely creeping up in your body and that made you want to enjoy the game even more. Kenma, who was beside you, was really focusing on the race. He mentioned that you do need to have focus in order to avoid obstacles in the game, and that seemed to work well for him. You were currently in second place while Kenma took the lead. The games were somehow connected, maybe because the manager intended it to be, but you had no complaints, being able to race with Kenma was fun. It didn't matter who would win, as long as you both enjoyed the game. In the end, Kenma won and he got the tickets. Handing it to you, he tugs you towards the pacman gaming machine, a smile lingering on his lips. "Let me beat the high scores, just buy me some mochis to snack on and I’ll get you that plushie." Kenma assures and you nodded, walking towards one of the stands outside of the arcade to buy a serving of 4 mochis. "Do you want me to feed it to you while you play?" You asked and Kenma nodded, inserting a few coins into the machine and waiting for it to start. Grabbing a strawberry mochi, you brought it up to Kenma's lips as he takes a big bite of it. You smiled as his face puffed up and his eyes lighting up at the details of the game. Kenma really enjoyed playing games like these and knowing that he's also doing it to get you what you wanted, it made you adore the boy even more. Kenma is not everyone's ideal type of guy. He can be really distant and secretive, sometimes he could even ignore you because he simply did not want to talk. But you must have patience, because it's just who he is. Kenma is not used to having someone persistent to encourage him to speak up, but when he does, he's just like everyone else, a guy who has annoying friends, works hard for school and finds a reason to enjoy volleyball. Most importantly, he's just a guy with a big crush on you but he's too shy to tell you about it. So, to him, when you started dating and finally made it official, it was one of the best days of his life. It was a warm feeling that engulfed him throughout the day, and he only felt that way for you. "Y/N! I did it, look! I'm on the top!" He shouts with excitement as his display name popped up on the top of the ranks. Y/N Koz "Y/N Koz? What's with that name?" You asked as Kenma stood up and handed you a bunch of tickets. "It's your name and my Kozume." He answers, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. You blinked in astonishment and Kenma holds your hand, dragging you away from the game machine. "You kissed my forehead." You said, still shocked from Kenma's gesture. The boy simply laughed and inserted another bunch of coins into a different game. "If you'll feed me again, I might do it again." He teases and you punch his arm lightly. Both of you ended up laughing and trying out every game in the arcade, which ended up with you and a basket of tickets. Kenma definitely was a regular in this arcade, he knew every game there was in this arcade and he managed to beat most of the high scores of each machine. ___ At the end of the day, Kenma was able to gather enough tickets to get you the stuffed kitty that you wanted. You held it up beside Kenma and smiled while the boy was obviously confused. "It reminds me of you Ken." You pointed out and Kenma blushed a light hue of pink. Another wave of fuzziness washed up in his system. You always had that effect on him, it confused him as to why, however he loved it and he had no complaints. Kenma grabs your hand and both of you exit the arcade. It was about 5 in the afternoon and he insisted on taking you home before heading back himself. It would be a pretty exhausting ride since it took about an hour from Shinjuku to Edogawa using a bus, and another hour from Edogawa to Nerima. "Are you sure you want to accompany me home? It's going to be tiring for you Ken." You said and Kenma simply shook his head as both of you walk towards the bus station of Shinjuku. "Tetsurou said something that made me realize that maybe I do not show you enough love." He admits and at that moment, your heart melted into a pudding. Kenma was never this open about his thoughts, he did not like being too clingy or sappy. Both of you shared casual conversations and maybe some affectionate messages from time to time, but not to the extent that he would let you into the deepest parts of his mind. "Ken, I accept you for what you are. I don't mind your silence, I love it when you slowly open your heart to me, and I understand your personality. You may not be the most affectionate person, but you make me feel loved in your own little way. That alone is enough for me to know that I've got you and you've got me. I know you love me Kozume." You said and b0th of you enter the bus headed for Edogawa. Finding a seat for 2, you tug Kenma towards the back row and settled on the plush seats. Kenma squeezes your hand and places it on his lap. His head snuggled on your shoulders as you rub circles on the back of his palm. "Y/N." Kenma whispered as you hummed, the comfort of the quiet bus, only the sound of other vehicles zipping by engulfed you. "I want you to know, my life, it's not all games, I have you and I'm happier because of that." Kenma spoke quietly and you knew how whipped you were for this guy. His simple acts of holding your hand, gripping your shirt when someone was flirty with you and whispers of affection was enough reason for you to stay with him, even when times were rocky. "I love you Y/N." Kenma whispered once more and finally drifted into a nap. He must've been exhausted playing all those games just for tickets. You placed a soft kiss on his head and smiled, whispering an 'I love you' back to the boy who owned your heart. You were lucky to have Kenma, and you knew he felt the same way. --The End--

[philliamwrites]

the fault in our stars

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Characters: Claude & OC

Tags: #multiple dimensions, #dimension travelling, #platonic love, #mentions of major character’s death

Words: 4.5k

Summary: Claude receives a letter that states someone is out there able to help him fulfill his goal of unifying Fodlan and Almyra. Signed, “The Witch.” Of course he doesn’t trust this, but curiosity killed the cat, and so he sets out to find her and see what kind of help she can offer. It turns out, this witch carries more secrets than anyone Claude knows can carry and he, gentleman that he is, gladly lands her a hand.

Notes: A commission for @iam-miscellaneous

the fault in our stars

A twig snapped somewhere behind him and Claude whirled, an arrow nocked and ready, but it was just a little squirrel staring at him with big, round eyes. He raised an eyebrow, and it scurried off into the forest and disappeared.

Claude relaxed. The forest was quiet again since most of its residents had fallen into a deep slumber from which they shouldn’t wake up until Lone Moon. But Claude had read about dangerous creatures that didn’t fear the harsh Syopyr Taiga of the Galatea region, and stalked through the snow to hunt their prey. He’d much prefer not ending up inside the stomach of a moonbear or red wolf, thank you very much.

He should have brought Ákos with him. His wyvern was big and he would surely draw attention—literally the wyvern in a porcelain shop, but Claude would be save from any beast trying to have him as a snack. Also, Ákos was warm. Warm and with his white skin perfectly blending in between the snow covered pine trees that stood vigil like the statues of the four Saints in the monastery. But it would be hard for Ákos to move freely, so Claude relished in the comfort to know he was but a whistle away and would barrel down and crash through the woods to save him.

Were it not for the letter, Claude wouldn’t even be here in the first place.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the letter before him, its existence ever-present inside the pocket of his trousers as if it emitted heat, burning against his thigh.

I can aid you in your goal, wrote the mysterious person calling herself The Witch.

What goal specifically? Overthrowing Edgard? Unifying Fódlan and his mother land? Striking down the borders of discrimination and bigotry so people would finally stop slaughtering each other over the colour of their skin or what god they choose to worship? So many questions, and Claude hated any of them remaining unanswered. But for that, he had to find the witch’s cottage first and he’d been wandering through these woods for hours.

The Everglow stone certainly did keep his fingers from freezing in this relentless cold, but he knew he’d reach his limit soon and would have to return to base. He knew this time, Lorenz and Hilda would not allow him to leave so easily.

They’d been wary of it the moment the unknown owl had landed on Ákos’ head, carrying a letter addressed to “the Prince of a far away land.” Claude’s blood had run cold.

“Prince of a far away land?” Hilda had squinted at the paper spread out in front of them on the war table they kept outside under an open tent. “Who is that supposed to be?”

“And the things she offers, this ‘Witch,’” Lorenz had agreed sceptically, and thus luckily not noticed the quick glance Hilda stole Claude’s way. He’d always known Hilda knew more than she let people on, and Claude had given her one of his rare, tired smiles. She’d made a very serious, very un-Hilda like face, and turned back to the letter.

“I think I should check it out,” Claude had said, and their reaction was understandable, if a little too dramatic for his taste.

“If you die chasing this witch, could you die knowing you leave the Alliance in someone else’s hands?" Lorenz had said. That was very unusual for him. It had taken them five years to get there, and Claude wouldn’t just throw away that trust.

“What if she turns you into a frog?” Hilda had asked. That was very usual for her, and Claude was thankful for her effort to ease the mood after all the losses they’d suffered in the Battle at Gronder Field.

“Then you guys better start looking for a princess right about now,” he’d replied, his tone breezy when inside he’d been a storm. The only princess he knew had charged into the role of Emperor and would surely make frog leg soup out of him, and the only prince he’d known laid skewered without even a proper burial on a vast field that drank itself sick from all the blood spilt on it.

Things did not look good for the Alliance. As Claude had filed every advantage and disadvantage seeking out this mysterious person in alphabetical order, he looked at the owl that had delivered the message. Its black eyes were fixed on him expectantly, as though he should be well aware of what it sought as reward, but Claude didn’t know of course, and a second later, its sharp beak split open the skin at the back of his hand, drawing blood. It ruffled its feathers and took off to the sky, hooting in offence.

“Let’s hope you’ll start off better with this witch than her familiar,” Lorenz had commented, leaving Claude to tend to his wound. He’d hissed a curse, pressed his mouth against the wound and levelled a disbelieving look at his animal companion. Usually Àkos was no friend of man or animal. He barely tolerated Claude’s closest companions to saddle or care for him, but he’d allowed an unfamiliar owl to use his head as a seat, and peck at his friend and master.

Claude still pondered about that even after a week’s worth of travelling through the Alliance territory to reach the north of Faerghus. He didn’t like being short of options, but with the hand dealt to him by Fate, he could really use an ace up his sleeve.

The witch could have been more specific about her location though.

Come to the Okhotsk Forest and you will find me.

Well, that was a lie. He’d been out here for hours now, and still there is no sign of her, or her hut, or anyone living out here for that matter.

Claude would be mad furious if this turned out to be one of Hilda’s jokes. Though he doubted even she would go this far, especially during a time like this. War changed people. She wasn’t the giddy girl anymore, batting her eyelashes to let other people do her work. And yet he remembered this one time when his grandfather Oswald had celebrated the Leicester Alliance Founding Day and Hilda had written him a secret note to meet him, pretending to be his first crush. He’d been waiting in the cold until servants found him with a fever the next morning. But instead of getting angry, Claude was really impressed by Hilda’s lie and persuasion, and decided to have her as a friend rather than an enemy.

Claude shivered. Pegasus Moon was drawing its end. He could smell it in the crisp air—the time of new beginnings dawned. An opportunity for new plans, new schemes, and he wouldn’t be Claude von Riegan if he would pass up on them. That was, if he found his hopefully new ally. And just in that moment, he turned his head and caught sight of something dark in the corner of his eyes.

A hut.

Out of nowhere, a little hut stood in the middle of the clearing, looking as if it had been there since the beginning of dawn. It blinked into existence where seconds ago the forest ground stood empty. Claude blinked, thinking out of desperation he’d imagined it. But no matter which way he turned his head, what angle he leaned into, the hut didn’t magically disappear like the Fata Morgana he’d encountered during their trip around the Sreng Desert, where instead of finding one of the lost Saint’s weapons, they had stumbled upon an ancient, sentient beast.

Claude shook at the memory, feeling his mouth go dry just thinking about the scorching heat. Even days after their return to Derdriu, he’d found sand in places it wasn’t supposed to be.

Luckily, the forest was the complete opposite. It was eerily quiet. No birds heralded the spring, no foxes scurried through the underbrush in search for smaller prey. Among the blinding white of the freshly fallen snow that clung to everything, the black stoned hut with its small, red chimney looked like a picture out of a fairy book. Claude grimly remembered stories Dimitri had told him in front of the fireplace in one of the monastery’s big common rooms about a witch living in the deepest forests of Faerghus called baba yaga. Her house stood on chicken feet and she snatched away little children who went astray or lost their way through the forest.

But this was real. Claude had finally found her.

Approaching the hut carefully, his fingers danced across the hilt of the short sword attached to the belt around his hip. He wasn’t a fan, but since early days, Nader had taught him the way of the sword.

“You won’t always have the luck to find a bow,” he’d said after knocking little Claude to the ground for the fifth time in a single sparring session. Claude had endured without complaining, but he’d also made up his mind that day that the sharpest weapon on him would always be his mind.

Claude braced himself. Having finally reached what he’d been venturing to for the last weeks was wind in his sails, propelling him forward and lifting his hope. He knocked against the wood with his knuckles, once, twice. A third time.

Nothing.

Off to a good start.

“Hello?” he called through the door. His fingers itched to the letter as he wondered if he was supposed to say a secret code word. But he’d read the letter over a dozen times, analysed everything from the way she dotted her i's and crossed her t’s to how she constructed every sentence.

No secret password. No secret behavioural code. Nothing.

Claude decided to go for the doorknob. But when his hand hovered inches away from it, it turned by itself and the door creaked open. Claude shuddered. Inside, everything was dark. Heavy vermilion curtains didn’t allow any sunlight to stray inside. A minty scent lied in the air, not unpleasant, as if someone had recently taken a hot bath and thus steam still lingered in the air. He cautiously entered the hut, eyes straining to see any kind of movement. Everything was still.

Fabric rustled—no, not fabric. In one corner stood a perch, and on it sat the owl, regarding Claude with its black eyes. They stared each other down for a moment, in which Claude wondered if it had been the witch all along, playing with him. But the owl just regarded him sleepily, then turned around and chose to ignore his presence.

Claude allowed himself to relax a little. From outside, the hut looked small, barely the size of his bedroom at the monastery. But inside was enough space to hold multiple work stations and contain additional rooms to the east and west. One wall was completely lined with bookcases tall enough to reach the roof, neatly stacked with leather-bound books. When he looked closely, he could see gold letters shining off their spines. In front of if stood a large table that was buried under dozen maps, showing star constellations he’d never seen before. To his other side crinkled the fire place. A black kettle hung above it, and he could hear water boiling.

Claude approached the shelves standing beside the fireplace, filled with all kinds of different objects in containers and glass bottles. Glowing flowers, insects with rainbow coloured wings, sharp claws and large teeth swimming in murky liquid. He realised only then that he’d been expecting dead animals lying around with their abdomens wide open and jars filled with organs. But this place looked cosy. Like someone actually lived here instead of using it as a crazy laboratory.

“I see this place is to your liking?” sounded a voice from his right. Claude jerked back from the jar he was observing. He hadn’t even heard a door opening behind him.

She’d just appeared like a dream. Claude’s first thought was, She is very small, and for a moment he feared to meet with a child because he’d turned down the wrong path and missed his designated location completely. But then she opened the curtains with a flick of her wrist. Claude, blinded by the sudden light, flinched. He’d seen sorcerers and the like at the academy, had seen Marianne and Lysithea work their spells and yet he knew this girl in front of him was unlike any spellcaster he’d ever met.

Not girl, he realised as she stepped into the light, and he found her gaze linger on him. Those were no eyes of a young girl. For a brief second, Byleth’s face flashed in front of his eyes. Claude missed her. He did not look forward to face her once they’d reach the Imperial capital. If she didn’t come to him first.

“It is certainly … unique,” Claude said, moving back to the centre of the room with his back to the door. He didn’t like to be cornered, and though he guessed his chances weren’t bad facing an opponent a whole head smaller than him, he didn’t want to challenge Lady Luck. She didn’t appear to be very fond of him lately anyway.

“Shall we talk business then?” he quickly followed on, watching her move to the fire place. Taking the kettle, she poured steaming water in two prepared cups. He immediately recognised the smell, Almyran Pine Needles, his favourite tea. If there really was a spy among them, he’d have to find them quickly. Or she really was a witch and had insight in many things which meant he needed her on his side before Edelgard found her.

The Witch gestured to two heavy armchairs sitting in front of the fire and after a moment of hesitation, Claude crossed the room and sank in the cushions. Only then did he realise how exhausted he was from wading through knee-high snow. He took the cup from the witch’s small hands, but didn’t drink yet even though his body couldn’t wait to warm up quickly after the freezing temperatures outside. Besides, sometimes it was more about the company of a warm beverage. And he wanted to make sure she drank first to see if it was poisoned.

The witch took her first sip without hesitation, then looked at him daringly as if she knew exactly what he was waiting for. Claude didn’t trust her. But if she really would aid him, then he wouldn’t pass on that offer.

Bottoms up then. Tasting the nostalgic flavour, Claude immediately relaxed. There was the right amount of sweetness too, meaning she’d put in the right amount of sugar.

“Who are you?” Claude asked finally, the question burning on the tip of his month since he left Derdriu. The Witch took another sip. Her gaze roamed over his features, calculating yet at the same time somewhat caressing.

“A friend,” she answered, “who only wishes to see you win the war.”

Claude took that in for a second, allowing the tea to warm him from the inside. “I think I’d remember if I had someone peculiar like a witch as friend. And what exactly makes you think I need help?” he asked. “As far as I know, the Alliance is holding up pretty well.”

He had to test how much she knew. If there really was a spy, they had to find and eliminate them quickly.

The Witch placed her porcelain cup aside, and leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, she looked like a mother about to scold her child.

“The Alliance is a powder keg about to explode,” she said calmly, yet with a voice that didn’t appreciate Claude trying to deceive her. “You can’t find a way to convince Lord Gloucester to join your forces and usually a nation divided does not win wars. Especially not against an opponent like the Emperor.”

Claude leaned back in his armchair, dragging his tongue over his lower lip, his mouth suddenly dry. Straight to the point, just how he liked it. “It doesn’t stop with getting old Gloucester to unite with House Riegan,” he said. “We need food, weapons. A new base of operation somewhere more central to send out our forces. Unfortunately, I doubt The Enlightened One will let us stay anywhere close to the Garreg Mach monastery.”

Something flashed in the Witch’s eyes when he mentioned Byleth. She pursed her lips, reminding him of Judith whenever she received a particularly unpleasant information.

“I see,” she said after a moment. “Your old teacher leads the Black Eagle Strike Force. That does make things more difficult.”

Claude leaned back in his armchair and stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankles. Interesting how she knew about the Alliance’s status but not that his old professor was on the enemies’ side. “Difficult how?”

“Let me deal with that once the time comes,” the Witch said. Claude wasn’t happy. He knew trust was a little too much, too quick given they knew each other for about five minutes. But she could give him a little more to work with here.

“Pardon me, but so far you haven’t really convinced me to accept your help, little witch.” He had to test the waters, see how far he could go in before the current dragged him under. The witch didn’t even blink at this nickname.

She mirrored his movement and locked her fingers in her lap. “Let’s just say my knowledge about certain things would aid you greatly in winning this war.”

“What things, pray tell.”

“Your plan to fend off the Imperial forces stationed in Daphnel. You won’t be able to occupy it for a long time before the Imperial army takes it back. You wonder if those knights and soldiers are better off stationed in Goneril to guard your supply shipments coming from Almyra, but you can’t say if your people would prefer to see an assertive ruler adamant on fighting the Empire or a generous ruler who cares more about protecting and nourishing his people.”

Once she finished, only the crackling fire made conversation with the burning wood. Claude didn’t avert his eyes from her piercing gaze, and she didn’t shy away when he cocked his head to the side, a grin slowly spreading on his face.

“So you do know a few things about me,” he said, and now he was the one mirroring her movement, leaning in closely. “But if you know about what keeps me awake at night, what do you know about my enemies?”

“Enough to end this war,” the Witch said, her eyes blazing with resolve, “if you listen to me.”

Claude raised his hand and pressed his palm to his heart. “I promise, should there be method in this madness, I will lend you my ear and listen what you have to say, little witch.”

She exhaled softly. Relieved, and Claude wondered how much of that conviction she’d shown was act. But he couldn’t begin to doubt this early, for the doubt would eat away at him and just this time, he wanted to believe whoever was their benevolent maker, he’d finally nudged Claude on the right path. He’d been without hope for so long, he’d forgotten how it tasted.

Claude stood, antsy to get back to his city and scheme away and finally, finally turn this war around. “How long do you need before you can join me in Derdriu?” he asked, moving towards the door when he noticed a strange apparatus next to it, showing a circle painted in different colours and a little arrow pointing at the part that was coloured a dark purple. When he turned, the Witch had followed right behind him, and Claude took a step back in surprise, his back gently pressing against the door.

She was smaller than him, yes, but her presence filled the whole room.

“I will finish a few things here, and then I will meet you there,” she said. She stretched her hand and rested in on the doorknob. Claude stepped away, allowing her to open the door, and was surprised when he saw Àkos waiting for him at the door step, liking snowflakes off his snout. When Claude raised his hand to pat him, he sneezed in his face.

Claude pulled a grimace. “Good to see you too, my friend.”

The witch followed him outside, and for the first time since their meeting, a smile had strayed on her face. She offered Àkos her hand, and before Claude could tell her to be careful of Àkos’ sharp teeth, he sniffed her fingers and gave a little confused huff before leaning in and allowing the witch to caress his smooth, leathery skin.

Now that was unusual, and maybe just a tiny bit, Claude felt betrayed. He swung on Árkos’ saddle, immediately relaxing at the familiar feeling of his wyvern’s steady, warm body. Before he took off to the skies, Claude turned to the witch and said, “You have to tell me who spies for you inside the Alliance. I might hire them as my new spy-master.” But she didn't give him a name, she didn't even smile thinking it was a joke. Her gaze was fixed to the woods stretching before them, her jaw set, and Claude knew that look. It would stare back at him in a mirror whenever he tried really hard not to cry.

“Your name,” he demanded. “I still don’t know your name.”

The Witch straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. “I will tell you once we win the war. Once we win, I will tell you everything.”

* * *

Claude tried to wipe the exhaustion away with his sleeve, but closing his eyes for even a second ran the risk of him dozing off. There was still so much to prepare for their defence of Derdriu. He had to block off the city, occupy the naval port and lead the reinforcements to each city gate leading to the heart of the capital. There was no moment to rest.

Fresh air. He needed cold, fresh air to clear his mind and wake him up.

Outside, knights and soldiers on night duty greeted him. They had nothing unusual to report, everything was calm. No movement from the enemy so far. Somehow, that didn’t reassure Claude at all, though he couldn’t say if he’d rather want the opposite.

His feet carried him to the outskirts of their camp, and there it was—standing out from all the other tents was The Witch's tent, its leather roof mirroring the constellations of the starry sky. Judging from the light inside, she was still awake, probably pondering about the upcoming battle just as he was. Claude crossed the clearing and opened the front flaps only enough for his voice to come through.

“It’s Claude. May I enter?” he asked. Something rustled. As if paper was quickly wiped away. A moment later, her voice called back to him, “Please come in.”

He ducked and entered her tent. Again, it was much larger on the inside than it appeared from the outside, yet just like her cottage, it was still simple. Instead of expensive, luxurious furniture, she decided to fill every nook and cranny with her magical apparatus’ and ingredients.

The Witch stood in front of a cherry wood table, wearing a simple, dark gown. From the way she tried to appear taller and held her hands behind her back, Claude knew immediately she was hiding something. He thought back to the sound of paper being quickly gathered and tried his shot.

“Writing to your lover?” he teased, settling in an armchair without waiting for an invitation.

The Witch blew back a black lock that stubbornly clung to her forehead. She crossed the room, and within a blink, the papers in her hands vanished. Claude gave an impressed whistle.

“He is more than that,” she said without any hesitation. “But are we lovers? No.”

“And how does one become become friends with a witch?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. She sat in the empty seat beside him, not bothering in the slightest about her posture. Claude liked seeing her relax around him. For the past few days, she’d been all over the camp, tending to the wounded or helping magic battalions with their spells.

He was surprised how easy it was to work with her. She effortlessly followed his train of thought and anticipated questions or knew exactly were to probe whenever he wasn’t certain about something and hoped no one else would notice. But she always noticed, as if she inherently knew his faults and weaknesses and therefore watched his back. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume this wasn’t their first time working together.

“I call everyone friend who offers me toffees,” the Witch said now, taking off her boots. Even though she’d been outside the whole day, there was no speck of mud on them, whereas Claude’s boots wore a mud crust he wasn’t proud of.

��Toffee.” Claude playfully stroked his chin. “I think I can supply some.”

“I would be so ever grateful.” She gave one of her rare smiles, growing slowly like the moon slipping slowly beneath the waves of a lake. Whenever Claude was capable of making her smile, pride bloomed in his chest.

He didn't know what it was about the Witch that made all the tight and careful knots inside his chest uncurl. Maybe that was what people meant when they said someone made them feel undone.

“How do you feel about our stand here?” he asked. “Do you think we’re prepared for Edelgard arrival?”

Immediately, she tensed, and Claude regretted bringing it up. They talked about tactics so much every day, they should be spared of it inside their tents, the only place of comfort and peace, but it seemed Claude had forgotten how to do small talk.

But the Witch just shifted her weight a little. “I don’t like lying to you, but the truth isn’t pretty.”

“I still want to hear it.” He needed to know their chances of winning. The truth might not be pretty, but more than that, he didn’t want to be lied to. He couldn’t say why, but especially from her, he didn’t want to hear a lie.

They held each other’s gazes, and Claude was impressed again by how black her eyes were. Darker than a starless night, he couldn’t see where the pupil ended and the iris began. Yet there was kindness in her eyes. Kindness and experience that told stories older than she appeared to be. But with no time to dwell on his theory, he tucked it away in a safe corner where he’d access it later. When this was all over and he’d have enough time to listen to her story.

After a moment, the Witch spoke, “I wish your success wasn’t depending on anybody else. I have prepared you to all my capabilities, but...”

“But we can’t say for sure what Edgard will do.” Of course they couldn’t. No one of them could read thoughts or look into the future. Claude was usually all for unpredictable variables to keep his mind reeling and working, but even facing Edelgard gave him more headaches then he asked for.

“No matter the outcome, I can promise that your city and its people will be save,” the Witch said. They’d been working together for a couple weeks now, but Claude had learnt early on that she kept her promises and it was nice to lean on someone for a change.

“That’s all that matters to me,” he confessed. “I don’t care what happens to me. But I cannot let down my people. The Alliance. Its future. It’s all that matters.” Because how else would he begin his peace-mongering without his Leicester Alliance unifying with his Kingdom of Almyra.

A dark shadow settled on the Witch’s face. Her eyes roamed over his face, taking in his features as if she wanted to commemorate them. Claude had to fight the urge to fidget, to flee from her keen gaze.

“The nation will learn how to move on when you are no more,” she said quietly. “But what about those you leave behind. Do you not care about your friends and comrades?”

“I care about what becomes of them after the Emperor captures my city and they are no more masters of their own fate.” Claude didn’t want to think about such a future. It would make him turn mad if he did.

“I know you think everyone has the might to forge their own paths. That fate is not absolute. But there are some fates you cannot change. You can only bow to them. Believe me. I’ve seen it many times. Too many times.” The Witch immediately clamped her mouth shut and turned her head away as if that would undo the words she just spoke. Claude hesitated. He wasn’t equipped to handle her surprising honesty. Honesty meant being vulnerable, and he’d never seen her like this. Sometimes it was easier to handle battalions and war generals than raw emotions, and Claude was thankful for the distraction fluttering it.

The Witch’s owl, that had been sitting on its trusty perch, flew through the tent and settled on the Witch’s shoulder, nuzzling it’s soft head against her cheek. The Witch smiled and scratched its chin. In return, the owl hooted and then proceeded to give Claude an accusatory glare as if he’d been the very reason for its mistress’ distress.

“Your little friend doesn’t like me at all,” Claude observed a second time since making acquaintance with with her feathery companion. “It’s like I offended him in some way.”

“She,” the Witch said mildly, “is fond of you. In her own way.”

Claude doubted that. “An unusual way to show her fondness of people. Pecking at them. Must your secret friend also endure this bullying or is he spared of it?”

“She treats everyone equally,” the Witch answered, and now he could see amusement crinkle in her eyes like the flying sparks of a fire. “My friend is no exception.”

“And is he a wizard like you? Or like us common folk?”

“He is,” the Witch began tentatively, “a just, young boy who heard the sound of flowing water in a world of sand and thus began to believe in hope. And this belief is a strong weapon, but the strongest weapon on him is his sharp wit and gilded mind.”

“Sounds like you hold him in high esteem.”

“I would burn cities and dethrone kings just to see his greatest wish fulfilled,” the Witch said, her gaze burning holes in Claude’s eyes. Something hot whipped through him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Jealousy. Hot-white jealousy burnt inside him to have a friend this dedicated to him. Maybe that was what books spoke of when they told stories about soulmates, and right now, his soul longed for a relationship like that. To be understood and accepted without having to give anything in return.

He took a deep breath, and banished those thoughts where they didn’t hurt. “Your friend sounds like someone I could become friends with.”

“Yes,” she said, turning her eyes away from his. “You two are quite similar.”

Claude wanted to know what it would take to meet him. To sit alone with him and have a chance at hearing all the Witch’s secrets, unravel them one by one and learn more about her. But she did tell him she’d explain everything after he won the war, and Claude held onto that promise like a drowning man.

After he wished her good night and left her tent, Claude remembered Nader had told him a story once. Claude, barely seven years old, had strayed into the desert bordering a small port city in Almyra where his mother loved to take him on vacation. After hours upon hours in the scorching heat, when he’d already made peace with the thought that the wide sea of sand would be his burial, he’d stumbled upon a small oasis. To this day, he remembered the sound of rushing water from the small waterfall and diving into the cool depths until he finally was found by Almyran soldiers looking for him. He’d never told this story anyone. Now he stopped, turned around and nearly ran back to the Witch’s tent only to be stopped when horns blared through the night’s quiet, waking up the whole city.

The Emperor had arrived.

* * *

Smoke rose to the grey sky that looked as if at any moment, the clouds would open to lament and cry. When she descend the cobblestone streets, her head a melody of pain and anguish, no one stopped her. No one could stop her because no one could see her as she hurried through tight alleys and corners, her spell making her invisible to the untrained eye.

The port stood abandoned. Now that it was occupied, there was no reason to guard it, and the Imperial troops had moved on to the centre of Derdriu where the important buildings stood. The embassy with its golden roofs, the Leicester mansion with its hundreds rooms and the famous Round Table.

But she didn’t care about silent stone monuments that would live to see another thousand years. She only cared for the one person who could have held it all together.

The Witch found Claude von Riegan lying on his stomach, his face drained in his own blood. The gaping wound in his chest still bled, a horrible hole left by none other than the nasty bone shards of Aymr. His eyes were still open but unfocused, staring ahead at the darkening sky.

Her stomach churned. No matter how often she saw him like this, it never got easier. The Witch sunk to her knees, and gently cradling Claude’s body into her arms, she whispered, “Forgive me, old friend. I was unable to save you yet again.”

There was no answer. As always, silence was her only companion, and grief her only caretaker. She teleported herself and Claude’s body outside the capital city where she looked for a secluded space outside the city, and using her own hands, she dug a grave deep into the earth. He deserved to be buried in his home land, the place he loved more than anything, but there was no time. There was never enough time.

She finished when the sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of red and pink. One moment, she stood in front of the mound, and one single blink later, she walked through the front door of her cottage. Exhaustion bled her dry when the door closed behind her, and with a slow twist of her wrist, she turned the doorknob. A click sounded next to her, and for a second, everything turned black.

When light returned, everything was the same, and yet everything had changed.

On her way to the bathroom, she put water to boil in a black kettle hanging above the fireplace, and laid out a nice porcelain set of cups and Almyran Pine Needle tea for her guest.

The bath was already ready for her. She shed her dirty, ragged robes, and lowered herself in the hot water, feeling it immediately sooth her hurting limbs. As always, it took some time to clean the blood and dirt under her fingernails from digging Claude’s grave. She scrubbed herself raw until nothing was left of the previous world, and stepped outside the bath like a new born child. When she dried herself, she heard three sharp knocks at the door, and a voice calling out. Willing her new, clean robes to come and dress unto her with a flick of her wrist, the Witch took a last, long look at herself in the mirror.

Thirty tries. None of them had succeeded, and she was becoming so very tired of it all. With every try to save her friend, she’s learnt new things about the worlds and dimensions, and yet none had been enough in the end. She knew that chances to succeed were higher whenever Byeth was leading the Alliance. In some rare cases, in little pocket dimensions that would immediately dissipate when she tried to set foot in, the remaining Kingdom forces had joined the Alliance and victory would lay at the tip of her fingers. So close, and still unreachable.

But she would never cease her fight against the world that wanted to see her dear friend suffer and fail. Even if that meant bending rules, and changing to something that wasn’t human. She would make death bow to her, and once he was her servant, she would put her dear friend free of his curse of never-accomplishing happiness.

The witch squared her shoulders, and swallowed these thoughts and her still-fresh grief deep down where they didn’t hurt anymore. When the door quietly swung open, and she saw Claude von Riegan inspecting her shelf of ingredients, she said, “I see this place is to your liking?”

[nightfayre]

a donation drabble request for the ever kind and supportive Ayobami @tps31! thank you SO MUCH for your donation and support!! you’ll never know how much it means to me <3

prompt: tianshan quarantine fluff, aka “why the hell am I stuck in a house with you all day every day?”

(a/n: this is just a random thought but I honestly don’t think I’ve written a fic about the boys still in middle school like, ever, so thank you so much for this prompt! it was so refreshing to write them as the flustered, airheaded, and teasing boys they are!) <3

tianshan, 3600 words, rated T

*   *   *

Guan Shan hates this. 

The laundry basket next to his. The pair of shoes at the front door. The extra toothbrush in his bathroom, and the second phone charger plugged in next to his bed. There’s a gray duffel bag taking up the corner of his bedroom and a black jacket draped over the back of his desk chair. None of it takes up too much space, carefully put into their respective places and never crossing the boundary, but—

Guan Shan hates it.

And, what’s worse: he never asked for this. He was stupid enough to mention He Tian’s name at the dinner table one night; a passing comment he hadn’t really thought about. But then his mother had paused with a spoonful of miso soup at her lips, pensive.

“He Tian,” she’d echoed, as if the name felt foreign but sweet on her tongue. “Isn’t that the one who lives near the center of the city? The one who lives alone? The tall and polite and handsome one of your friends?”

“Uh,” Guan Shan had said, smirking with distaste. “Yeah. Sure. That one.”

“Poor thing. Alone throughout all of this mess.” She sighed. “Why does he not live with his family?”

And Guan Shan had thought about it for a moment, sifting through his mind like pressing rewind on a VHS. “I don’t know,” he’d admitted, reaching for the soy sauce. “Never asked.”

She nodded, thinking. “Well, you should invite him over, then.”

Guan Shan choked. 

Oblivious, his mother had continued: “Have him stay a few nights. No one should be left alone throughout this entire period. Who knows how long this will last, what with how many cases that have been reported. He’ll go stir crazy by himself, poor soul.”

“He’s already stir crazy,” Guan Shan said, eyes watering from a dislodged grain of rice. “I don’t want him here, ma. I’ll literally do anythin’ else. Seriously.”

She’d given him a disappointed look. “Ah-Shan, I thought I raised you to have a little more compassion than that.”

“Trust me, a person like him doesn’t need compassion.”

“Now, you don’t know that,” she reprimanded. She tapped her chopsticks against her bowl, succinct. “After we finish dinner, you should reach out to him and invite him to spend the week with us.”

“A week?”

“Well, now that school is postponed and I’m working from home, wouldn’t it be nice to have company for a bit?”

“Ma, please—“

“You will text him, Ah-Shan. No excuses. The world needs kindness right now, and we will do whatever we can to contribute to it.”

And that, unfortunately, was that. 

That night, Guan Shan deleted the message immediately after he sent it, as if that would erase it out of his memory, too. But it was hard to forget the string of skeptical yet blaringly enthusiastic string of response texts that followed the invite, and even harder to forget the sight of He Tian at their front door half an hour later, duffel bag slung over his shoulder and smile bright as he greeted Guan Shan’s mother with practiced sweetness and feigned gratitude. 

Guan Shan hated it. 

But as his mother shot him a warning look, Guan Shan couldn’t do anything about it. Couldn’t just ignore him like he did, sometimes, at school.

And now, five days in, there’s a knock at the bathroom door. 

“Little Mo, are you naked?”

Running a towel over his hair, Guan Shan scowls at his reflection in the mirror, still foggy from the steam. “Fuck off, chickenshit.”

“I’m kidding.” He can hear the smile in He Tian’s voice. “I just need to brush my teeth.”

“Then you can wait.”

“It’s been twenty minutes, sweetheart. Are your showers usually this long?”

“That’s an average fuckin’ time for showers!”

A hum, muffled by the closed door. “Really? Mine only take ten, and that’s generous considering the precious amount of time I spend washing my—”

The thunk of the lotion bottle against the door rattles its hinges. “Fuck off!” 

He waits until he hears He Tian’s footsteps recede. Guan Shan hates that he knows He Tian is walking away with that smug-as-all-hell smile, satisfied. 

He dresses quickly after that, doing his best to ignore the citrus-scented face wash by the faucet and the contact lens case by the hand soap. The first time he’d seen all of He Tian’s things laid out like this on his bathroom counter was something like a revelation. It was like some things clicked into place, unbidden. Now it makes sense why Guan Shan sometimes thinks he catches a whiff of lemonade every time He Tian gets too close, and why He Tian looks like he’s scowling whenever he reads but, really, it’s just because he’s blind as a fucking bat and has to squint to see fine print. 

If nothing else, Guan Shan suspects at least something valuable might come out of all this time he’s forced to spend together with He Tian — (read: blackmail) — but then again, He Tian hasn’t commented on the old, stained state of Guan Shan’s pillow like Guan Shan thought he would because he’s used it since he was four and can’t really sleep well if he’s not using that specific pillow. And he also hasn’t said anything about the way Guan Shan jumps, sometimes, when the toaster springs up his toast in the mornings because he never fucking sees it coming and it — sometimes — causes him to drop his jam knife.

A stalemate, Guan Shan supposes as he pulls his shirt over his head. Except, deep down, he knows that He Tian probably isn’t even aware that such a concept exists. After all, what would He Tian be if not someone to fight ‘til a broken victor is left standing? 

By the time Guan Shan walks out into the living room, it’s ten o’clock. His mother, having finished washing the dishes because Guan Shan made dinner, is nowhere in sight, likely huddled up in her bedroom with a book like she always does before bed. That leaves He Tian alone on the couch, casually flipping through TV stations in a t-shirt and sweats, and he doesn’t see Guan Shan at first when the latter turns the corner. 

“Bathroom’s open, dipshit,” Guan Shan mutters. He Tian looks up as Guan Shan approaches, settling on the opposite end of the couch.

“About time.” He Tian tosses Guan Shan the remote, and he barely catches it before it smacks against his chest. Standing, He Tian smiles and says, “Find something good to watch by the time I get back, okay?”

“I don’t work at your beck and call,” Guan Shan seethes. But despite his retorts, his fingers find the remote buttons as He Tian saunters back to the bathroom, hands in pockets and steps quiet against the creaky floors. 

For a while, there really is nothing interesting on any of the channels. Guan Shan flies past a romcom, an old horror film, a few cartoons, the dreaded news. Nothing catches his attention — and he feels exhaustion coming on quick. He thinks, maybe, of just going to bed. But behind the apartment’s thin walls, he can hear the water running from the faucet. Despite himself, he frowns. 

It’s odd, really. He never thought he could get used to the image of He Tian’s broad frame hunched over his sink in the mornings, or the way He Tian can reach the bowls at the top of the cupboards without going on his toes, or the sight of He Tian’s nape pressed against the twin-sized air mattress on the floor of Guan Shan’s bedroom. He never thought anyone could make his mother laugh as much as he can, or finish puzzles as fast as he can, and he certainly never thought that his mother would spill Guan Shan’s childhood stories to someone she’d only met... once? Twice? He doesn’t keep track. He never had to before. 

Nevertheless, it’s not nearly enough time to warrant such trust. Such comfort. 

Guan Shan hates it. 

But in the midst of his lamenting, the faucet shuts off. A few moments later He Tian returns. And when he plops back onto the couch — too close — he smells of mint and vanilla-scented chapstick. 

Too aware of his presence and the way his knee almost touches Guan Shan’s, Guan Shan takes a long second to snap back to reality when He Tian asks, “What’s this?”

Guan Shan blinks. On the TV, there’s some kind of documentary playing. A narrator drones over the images of a complex space aircraft, and the camera pans out to show footage of the stars it swims in. As the screen switches to an interview of someone very important-looking in a suit, Guan Shan scowls.

“I don’t know. Nothin’s on.”

He Tian stretches his arms above his head, long and lithe. “Well,” he says, drawn with a sigh, “if you’re trying to put me to sleep, it might actually work.”

“Fuck off, I don’t control the damn stations,” Guan Shan bites. “And you shouldn’t be tired to begin with. You did jack shit today, just like every other day.”

He Tian looks at him, the corners of his eyes softened with drowsiness in a way that Guan Shan has become used to seeing. 

“That’s not true,” He Tian says. “I went with you to pick up supplies so your mom can sew masks. And we went to get the mail downstairs. And I helped you go grocery shopping—“

“You fuckin’ stood there with the cart and didn’t help at all—“

“—and I chopped the onions and peppers for dinner. That’s a lot. I’m exhausted.”

“That’s a normal person’s life,” Guan Shan says, exasperated. “Honestly, what the hell did you do all your life until quarantine?”

He Tian seems to take a moment to genuinely think about his answer. “Homework,” he offers, brows a bit pulled. “Basketball. School, obviously. I usually go to the convenience store for dinner, but sometimes I’ll get takeout. And I don’t get mail, but my groceries get delivered to me, so.”

And then he looks at Guan Shan, almost as if expecting some kind of praising reaction — but Guan Shan can only stare. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Guan Shan says after a long moment. “That’s ridiculous and fuckin’ miserable. You live like a robot, and a broken one at that.”

Silence. Then He Tian sits up a little straighter, as if a puppetmaster had pulled on his strings.

“I mean, I used to take piano lessons,” he says, frowning as he rubs at his neck. “And Cheng took me to shooting ranges. And…” A pause. “Camping. Yeah, we went camping some weekends. Went to rivers and fished together all day. I caught a few sometimes.”

Guan Shan blinks. “What, are you tryin’ to prove somethin’ to me right now?”

And He Tian shrugs. “Maybe.”

The answer takes Guan Shan by surprise. But He Tian’s face is neutral — expression always so put together — and Guan Shan wonders if maybe He Tian is lying to him. Building up some kind of persona again just to tear it down later. Because, surely, with that much fucking money and privilege, the guy doesn’t just sit there in that empty apartment all day and twiddle his thumbs. Surely, with his reputation, he has a regular posse of socialites always seeking him out and inviting him to some kind of get-together or event. Surely, considering all that he is, He Tian doesn’t waste his time looking for, or teasing, or protecting, or calling up—

“Guan Shan?” He Tian says, mouth a little twisted. “You still awake?”

The low rambling of the space documentary suddenly seems louder. Guan Shan swallows, once, then forces himself to look away. 

“You make no fuckin’ sense to me,” Guan Shan mutters. Then: “When are you leavin’?”

“Ouch,” He Tian remarks in an empty but unsurprised tone, shifting back on the couch. After a moment, he shrugs and responds, “Depends. Your text said a week but your mom says forever.”

A scowl. “She didn’t fuckin’ say that.”

He Tian smiles. “No, she didn’t. But she did say as long as I wanted — which, really, isn’t that much different from forever.”

Guan Shan swallows; feels inexplicable heat crawl up his neck like a spider, and he clenches his jaw against it. 

“You should go live with your own family,” he says, staring ahead. “I’m sure they’ve got all the time in the world to shower you with attention.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees He Tian smirk. 

“If I didn’t want to live with them at the best of times, what makes you think I would want to live with them at the worst of times?”

Guan Shan considers that. “This… isn’t the worst of times.”

“There’s a pandemic with no cure killing hundreds of people every day,” He Tian says, bland. “School is practically cancelled. People aren’t going to work. You invited me over to your home, unprompted. Even I know, with all things considered, that these are pretty bad times.”

Guan Shan can’t argue that. Instead he stares at the television, watching an astronomer point out weird symbols on some kind of map. It takes a lot of concentration to focus on nothing. After all, if he shifts his gaze any more to the right, he’ll see He Tian. If he lets his eyes slide down any further, he’ll see the way He Tian’s knee is still too close to his own. Both are dangerous territories for dangerous thoughts, and he doesn’t want anything to do with either. 

After a moment of silence, Guan Shan says, “You know, you should get friends. Real friends, and not your fuckin’ fangirl group.”

He Tian raises a brow. “I have you and Jian Yi and Zhan Zheng Xi.”

“That’s not—” And then Guan Shan stops, frowning, because he’s not actually sure what their ragtag mess of a group isn’t. Instead, he swallows and pathetically hides behind: “I’m not your fuckin’ friend.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Or, maybe, it’s exactly what He Tian thought what he’d say. Guan Shan isn’t sure; he’s never fuckin’ sure when it comes to him. But it doesn’t stop him from tensing up when He Tian turns to face him, fully. Wholly. It leaves no escape, and Guan Shan realizes with a sour kind of reluctance that he has no choice but to look back.

“No?” He Tian asks, meeting his gaze. “Then, what are you to me?”

The way the television’s screen lights up He Tian’s face — it’s like looking at a painting, alone in the museum, at the dusk of day. Blue hues shine through his hair, dim, and his eyes are only bright enough to reflect the silhouette of Guan Shan sitting in front of him. It’s eerie, how the both of them are so undefined in this moment. Maybe, in a way, that’s easier. 

Guan Shan’s voice feels thick when he says, “I’m not answerin’ that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t— need to.”

“Why?” And then: “Overthinking it?”

Guan Shan flares. “What? What the fuck does that— No, I just— I don’t need to answer fuckin’ anything, asshole. I… I owe you jack shit.”

Silence responds to him. He Tian watches him; studies him. Guan Shan feels like a specimen under his gaze, split apart layer by layer under the microscope. He feels like, somewhere, something in him is splintering. And He Tian is watching it happen. 

“I don’t have a fuckin’ answer,” Guan Shan admits, sudden, like a sinner in a confession booth, heavy and quiet and raspy. “Okay? I told you, you don’t make any goddamn sense to me. You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my ma.”

He Tian soaks that in, almost as thoroughly as he takes in the sight of Guan Shan’s flushed scowl. 

“You didn’t want me here?” he says, teasing.

“No, dipshit. Every time you’ve been here hasn’t been because I asked you to be.”

He Tian smirks. “Ouch,” he says again, except this time it’s said in a way that pricks Guan Shan like a rose thorn.

Guan Shan pushes down the heavy feeling in his throat. “I don’t know what you were expectin’,” he says, truthfully. 

And then He Tian looks away, rolling his head. There’s a kind of empty look in his eyes that Guan Shan thinks he recognizes, and after a moment he realizes it’s the same look he’s seen in He Cheng’s eyes in the few rare times they’d crossed paths.

“I wasn’t expecting a pandemic,” He Tian says. His voice sounds loud in the small room. “I wasn’t expecting school break to get extended. I wasn’t expecting all the restaurants to close, and for all the store’s shelves to be wiped clean.” He runs his tongue along his teeth. “But I guess, for some reason, I was expecting a text from you after weeks of nothing.”

It hits Guan Shan, hard and heavy, like a ring-laden fist against his cheek. The last time he’d seen He Tian before all of this mess was a month ago — more — and at the time, none of them had known that this is how it would turn out. How could they? It’d only taken a week for things to turn south, and Guan Shan was too busy worrying of how he and his mom were going to file for unemployment to think of the way his phone had been silent for longer than he’s been used to. 

He wants to pull it out right now; check his recent messages. It would be with a sort of disbelief when he would find the timestamp on He Tian’s contact, he already knows. But the shock wouldn’t come from his own lack of outreach. No, his perplexity would stem from He Tian, the same person who couldn’t go a single weekend without a conversation about nothing over Facetime back when things were normal. The same person who, apparently, hadn’t messaged him once until Guan Shan texted him that dreadful night five days ago. 

Had he been— testing Guan Shan?

“I didn’t reach out to anybody else,” Guan Shan hears himself saying. The words taste bitter as they leave his mouth. What is he doing? What does he have to justify? “I... It was weird, those first few days of the lockdown order, and my ma and I— we had a lot goin’ on. It wasn’t— I mean, I haven’t talked to Zheng Xi or Jian Yi this whole time either. I just... don’t have time. Or, I did, but it wasn’t urgent. I— yeah, I barely use my phone anymore, anyway. I’m always at home now so I just... don’t need it.”

He stops, his tongue feeling thick. He Tian isn’t looking at him, but he knows he’s listening. Somehow, the thought makes it even worse. 

“What,” He Tian suddenly says, and there’s a curl to his mouth that he can’t seem to help, “are you trying to prove something to me right now?”

“I—“ Guan Shan flares, teeth clenched and ears hot. “Fuck you. No, I’m not, asshole. I’m actually rescuin’ your damn pride, but apparently you’ve got too fuckin’ much.”

“Hey, hey,” He Tian says, wrapping his fingers around Guan Shan’s wrist when he makes to get up. “Come on. Don’t make me finish this documentary by myself.”

Guan Shan scowls. “I’m tired. Let go.”

“Then we can sleep on the couch,” He Tian replies — and then almost as if it were an afterthought: “again.”

Guan Shan warms at the implication of it. “Why the fuck would I do that when my room is around the corner?” he hisses. 

He Tian tugs his arm. “Because I’ll follow you anyway since I’ve only got two days left with you and I’m not letting today end like this.” He smiles. “We’re not sleeping yet. I’m selfish.”

“I could’ve fuckin’ told you that,” Guan Shan mutters, dry. But he relaxes, settling back on the couch, and eventually He Tian lets him go. The skin he had touched feels electric in his absence.

“Let’s make popcorn and ride this out,” He Tian says, settling against a throw pillow. His eyes, no longer empty, are content as they drift back to the screen.

Hand in chin, Guan Shan smirks. “We both brushed our teeth already. I’m not doin’ it again.”

“Tomorrow, then.” He Tian gestures to the TV. “Popcorn and something more interesting than this.”

“If you think this is so damn boring, then why are you still here?”

“When else will I find an opportunity to spend time with you like this after I leave?”

Guan Shan doesn’t respond. After a moment, He Tian huffs. 

“That’s when you’re supposed to invite me back over in the future, little Mo,” he says, amused. Guan Shan shoots him a warning look as the documentary goes to a commercial break. 

“Don’t push your luck,” he snaps. “And don’t try to convince my ma, either.”

He Tian hums, shifting, and Guan Shan suppresses a flinch when his knee presses up against his. Warm. “I hadn’t even thought about that. That might be the agenda for tomorrow, now.”

“I’m sick of you,” Guan Shan growls. And He Tian laughs, like it’s the funniest thing ever, how easily he can get under Guan Shan’s skin and force him to worry about nothing and get him to stay with him to watch shitty television all within the span of twenty minutes. How Guan Shan has managed to survive more than three days is an incredible feat. How he’s unable to chase away the thought of inviting He Tian over for dinner after he leaves, sometimes, is an inexplicable one. 

And when the documentary comes back on with a cheap intro jingle and the streaming quality of a disposable camera, Guan Shan feels He Tian’s foot hook against his and tries to convince himself, over and over:

I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

*  *  *

thank you for reading! likes/reblogs would be greatly appreciated, as this fic is dedicated to the Black Lives Matter movement. if you would like a fic/drabble written for you (and you want to support the BLM cause!), please see this post!

have an incredible week! <3

[hesagentlelman]

Rook JP Cappelletty Fanfiction

Love the way you lie

Okay, I'll give you a summary. Basically Rook has been in a toxic relationship with a girl for six months now. Colson and the boys have noticed and are trying to get him out of it. These fics are an English translation of my fics in Wattpad. If you like them I have some more focused mostly on Rook. I accept suggestions uwu

Rook has been in a toxic relationship for over six months, and Colson knows it. At this point he doesn't know what to do, he has seen his best friend get slowly destroyed by the girl he is with. He started out with just dark circles, bags under his eyes that made it clear that he was not sleeping well, or nothing at all. He later found out for himself that Rook's girlfriend kicked him out of his own home in the middle of the night because of jealousy. She let him sleep in the garden even when it was raining. That had led to Jp spending more time sick than healthy. Him suffocating in the middle of playing a song because he was so sick that he couldn't even breathe normally. With coughing fits that made he looks like he would choke. They had all told him to come home and rest. He had insisted on staying. Kells didn't understand why and over time he understood that he would rather be away from home than be with her. So ... why didn't he leave her? For some reason he didn't dare to ask him and just tried to help him from the distance, thinking that he shouldn't get into it, that he would do better for his best friend if he didn't get in straight. He couldn't be more wrong.

Then one day he had to pick up Rook from a park in the middle of Cleveland at three in the morning and take him to the hospital. He said that a drunk man had thrown a bottle at him and that he had been unable to dodge it. Colson knew he was lying. He knew that it had been his girlfriend. He didn't say anything and just drove, took him to the hospital and waited patiently. They had to suture a wound that covered his left temple up to his eyebrow and he lost 30% of his vision in that eye. Then, back in the car, he burst into tears. Kells didn't know what to do, he couldn't just sit back and watch that harpy tear his little brother apart. But he didn't know how to get into that problem without causing more damage.

Rook stayed that night to sleep at his house. Colson did not sleep. He watched him while he slept. Somewhat creepy but he just couldn't stop looking at him because it seemed like it was the first time he slept in a long time. He felt guilty, because he was just standing there and watching him burn.

After that night he began to see Jp less often and when he saw him he did not look like himself. He looked like the most tired person on this earth and looking into his eyes was almost painful. Colson had never seen such sad eyes. It hurt, it hurt because Rook, his Rookie was the happiest, most active and jovial person he had ever met and at this point he was not a shadow of who he really was.

Everyone had already noticed. They had talked about his girl, how sad and destroyed he looked. Baze had told them that he had heard his girlfriend yell at him for spending more time with them than with her. Tell him that he didn't love her and that he was a bad boyfriend, that he was mistreating her and that he didn't deserve someone like her. Rook had simply apologized, he had promised her that he loved her and that he would do anything for her. Rook definitely didn't deserve someone like her. That girl was a witch. (cof cof Bitch cof cof)

However none of them did anything. They stood there, watching him burn.

The few times they saw Jp he was completely different. He cried with songs and with movies and at that point none of them dared to laugh because they simply knew that crying had nothing to do with the movie. They tried to comfort him but none of them really got in, to stop what was happening in front of their eyes. Colson dared to ask about their relationship shortly after Rook passed out from exhaustion in the middle of a hangout. But he didn't get to ask beyond "How are you doing with her?" or How's your relationship? " and his drummer always answered a " good " that sounded as harsh and bitter as a stab.

Then Rook started arriving with injuries. He started with a pair of broken fingers and he said the wind had closed a door on his hand. Just a few weeks later his nose was broken and he said a book had fallen on his face. He forced a laugh and said "trouble of being short." And within a month he had a black eye, the same one that he had lost part of his vision of. And this time he said that he had accidentally opened one of his kitchen cabinets on his face. The boys looked at him, none of them believed it and they all knew that it had been his girlfriend who had closed the door in his hand, who had thrown that book against his face and who had hit him by opening one of his cabinets uncarelessly out because of her jealousy.

The situation was getting more and more difficult. Now in the sixth month, Rook had just had his fourth anxiety attack in their short time in this month. Slim had gone with him for a walk when his breathing had calmed and he had stopped shaking like a frightened dog. Baze and Kells had stayed there, talking about how far this had come. That's when Colson decided that he couldn't just stand there and watch him burn, he walked over to the couch and took Rook's phone, thanking he had left it there and discovering that he didn't even have a password on it. A part of him wanted to believe it was because Rook expected one of them to try to help him, but deep down he knew it was because his girlfriend was checking his conversations and everything he did. Colson discovered under Baze's watchful eyes that Rook, or rather his girlfriend, had deleted all the female contacts from his phone, even Casie's was not there. What kind of upset jealous was that girl? Finally he reached the WhatsApp messages and there, the first on the list was her. Kells began to read the messages aloud.

- Where are you? - It's her two days ago. - Kells house, recording. - Rook's answer. - You prefer them to me. - She adds. - I've only been away from home for three hours- Rook answers. - You don't take care of me like before, you don't even call me queen like you did before, why don't you love me anymore? What did I do? You are always with your friends and you are no longer with me - Colson continues to read her messages. - I love you more than anything, honey. But I really have to record - Jp responds. - It's a lie, you're so mean to me, I hate you so much! - They are pure written messages, but Colson knows that Rook is blaming himself for that. - My sunshine, no. I love you, I love you very much. I'll be back in an hour I promise. I'll make you dinner and we can watch a movie together. Whatever you want ... - Rook is too good for that girl. She doesn't reply anymore until yesterday. There is a similar conversation that lasts to this day. Now there are a lot of messages from her that Jp hasn't even answered, possibly because they are from when his anxiety attack started. Yet there they are - Jp Where are you? Did you change me again for your stupid friends? You prefer them ... You are horrible ... You don't deserve me ... - She starts and Colson and Baze want to hit her even though they would never hit a girl. - Answer me! Are you with another girl? Is that? I hope you die! I hate you! Do you want me to end my life? You know I can't live without you! I told you! You will make me kill myself! I'll kill myself if you let me! - The messages end there. Now everything makes sense. Now they know why Rook wouldn't let her. She threatened to kill herself. Possibly that girl was so crazy that she was capable of doing it just to fuck the crap out of the boy. Baze and Colson are feeling sick. They know they have to do something, because at this rate it is she who will kill Rook.

- We have to report this - Baze begins. Colson knows that he is right. - She is hurting him, physically and emotionally. That is full-blown abuse. - Baze adds. And yes, he is right. But it is quite difficult to assimilate that one of them is in a toxic relationship of that caliber. More Rook, the good and pure boy Rookie. -We only have the messages, how can we show them how fat this is? -Colson knows how bad the police work, no one will believe them if they say that a girl is mistreating her boyfriend. They will think the opposite is the true and could get Jp in trouble. - I have photos of injuries from the last few months. Well, Instagram stories, but I think it will work. Also, they just need to see him, he is clearly emotionally devastated. - Baze adds and nothing more is needed to convince Kells, they both wrap up warm and send a message to Slim telling him what they have discovered and that they will report. They asked him to keep Rook out of the house until they return because they know he will not want to report his situation. Slim responds quickly, wishes them luck, and finally the boys leave. They drive in Baze's car to the nearest police station and wait until they are attended. It is a bit difficult to explain the whole situation to the agent, why they have the phone of his friend and since when he has been going through all this. But when they say the girl's name, the policeman's face changes. Apparently it was not the first complaint that they received about her for abusing her partner physically and emotionally. But there had never been enough evidence and everything had been up in the air. But now, this was the fifth report to her name and they had clear evidence of psychological and physical abuse. The agent promised them that they would send a patrol to arrest the girl and that she would be temporarily detained as alleged guilty of domestic violence on charges of physical abuse and emotional abuse. That didn't sound like a total victory, but the agent promised them that justice would be served, but by law they had to investigate a little more, that they would need to speak with Rook and take testimony from the neighbors.

Kells and Baze returned home, informing Slim of what had happened. Slim and Jp arrived shortly after they entered the house. Colson handed the phone to his drummer and the brown haired boy looked at him confused. -You don't have to go back to her, it's over ...- It was Slim who said that. Rook looked at them all, a hint of fear on his face that vanished when Baze gaves him a comforting smile. Then he burst into tears, Colson hugged him first and then everyone joined the hug. -I thought it would never end ... I was so tired of her shit ...- Jp starts crying, but he's smiling. - Fuck ... thanks ... - Rook ends. At least it's good to know that he himself had realized the toxicity of his relationship.

Ah well it's over XD. If I'm honest this occurred to me listening to Eminem and Rihanna's song "Love the way you lie" but it is quite based on what happened between Jhonny Depp and Amber Heard and also on the post that Melissa Benoist made about her relationship with Blake Jenner. I guess you all know about Johnny. As I know that Melissa's case is less known, I will explain a little, although you can look for her post with the full story of what happened. Basically she was married to Blake (she is now divorced and recently had a son with Chris Wood, with whom she has been in a relationship for a while) the fact is that she had a toxic relationship with Blake and he abused her physically and emotionally. One of the most serious things he did to her was smash a phone in her face. She lost part of the vision in that eye and now has a mark on her iris and pupil, although she had always said that she was from birth until she recognized everything that happened not long ago. Well, the point is that I relied on these two relationships to write this. I mean I wrote this out of respect for these people and for everyone who is or has been in toxic relationships. I've been to one myself. Well that's it. Thanks for reading and don't get into relationships with shitty people. Bye!

Pd: English is not my native language, I have a good level, but you may write something wrong. I apologize if there is anything wrong.

[kayr0ss]

Perfect, or Not

[LWA, Diakko, cooking, trying new things, Diana needs a break from all the expectations, cute fluff!, domestic cute girlfriends, STAY AT HOME]

Diana and Akko navigate perceptions, vulnerability and... a cooking activity?

---

Diana once told her that what made her different from everyone else at Luna Nova was that Akko never thought she was perfect.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Akko had asked, caught off guard by the admission.

“A good thing.”

She didn’t fully understand it back then—she was much, much younger—but as the years flew by and led to their eventual romantic involvement, Akko began to get it. When it came to Diana, it seemed as though the whole world had one form of expectation from her or another: model student, soon-to-be heir of magic aristocracy, and later on a well-respected front-runner in the educational career she had chosen.

This was mostly due to the fact that Diana Cavendish rarely made mistakes. Seriously. Ever. Her reputation was held in such regard that even as a student, the instructors at Luna Nova made exceptions based on her opinions (which may have infuriated a younger Akko who had no idea they would end up dating). But even back then, she could see it bearing down on Diana’s shoulders like rocks piling up; and how hard it was becoming for the young Cavendish to keep it balanced lest it all come falling down.

Within their first year of dating, the brunette came to a realization: Diana never failed because she never did anything she might not be good at. She figured it out during a fishing trip of all times! Diana had tucked herself behind a book and under the shade of her wide-brimmed (and very stylish) hat while Akko wrestled with what felt the Master of the Swamp of that darned lake.

“We went all the way out here to fish! Won’t you even try?”

“You seem to have it covered. Fishing isn’t exactly within my area of expertise.”

“And so?”

Diana looked up at her and blinked in confusion, as though the concept of doing anything just for the heck of it was completely foreign to her. “I… well.”

They had to cast the rod seven times before Diana even got so much as a nibble, but fishes be damned—Akko didn’t give up on her that afternoon.

Biking was another activity which Diana had obstinately refused to even consider doing, she fondly recalled. Now this sucked for Akko—it really did—because biking around a park dusted with autumn leaves was kind of on her ‘couple bucket list’, except the other half of said couple didn’t even want to get on the bike.

“We have brooms. This is completely unnecessary.”

“It doesn’t have to be necessary,” Akko took her hand and practically dragged her towards the bicycle. “Don’t you remember what it was like for me to learn flying? Come on, try it for me!”

She’d never forget the how visibly difficult it was for Diana to say this, and that it hurt her to see how the blonde seemed to be expecting some form of judgment. “I… don’t know how.”

Akko laced their fingers together and made sure Diana was looking into her eyes when she said,

“That’s okay.”

Diana seemed surprised.

“I’ll teach you?”

--

This year, Akko’s birthday fell on a lovely, overcast Saturday. There were no dinners or parties to be held on account of a recent outbreak, which left her in the company of Diana with whom she now shared an apartment. It was more than enough.

What she wasn’t expecting, however, was for her girlfriend tap on her shoulder, looking a little excited and reluctant at the same time, asking: “Could you help me bake a cake?”

Akko’s eyebrows shot up, and she blinked away from her video game. “Oh. Without… magic?”

Diana nodded, and Akko lowered her line of sight towards the paper bag the blonde witch was carrying in her arm. Ingredients?

Akko dropped her game—her island and its denizens could wait.

“Please tell me you wore a mask when you went out to buy those!”

“Of course.”

--

Their first obstacle for the afternoon’s baking session was cracking the eggs.

“By Jennifer, I’ll always be amazed at how eggshells are both so fragile yet strong.” Diana accidentally crushed another egg, and braced herself for a witty remark form Akko, but none came.

“That’s okay,” Akko beamed, handing her another egg. “One more time!”

Encouraged, Diana picked up another egg and decided to just smack the damned thing along the rim of the mixing bowl. Oh. To her pleasant surprise, it cracked open obediently. “Right along the prime meridian.”

“P—Prime meridian!” Akko chortled, “mou, Diana, you’ve made the egg into a little Earth!”

Diana wanted to roll her eyes in annoyance but found herself smiling instead—Akko could get away with murder weilding a laugh as warm as that.

“Come on,” Akko stole a chance with a kiss to her cheek, “we’ll make a chef outta you yet. Time to get to mixing!”

The brunette had a good spot of fun during the first five minutes watching the taller witch mix. But Diana started grumbling about how her arm was sore, and so it was Akko’s turn to, to quote her girlfriend, “toil.”

“Someone’s comfortable,” Akko teased, leaning back when Diana decided rest her chin on the opposite shoulder of her mixing arm.

“I’m simply resting,” the blonde replied with a rare dash of jesting. She brought up her arms to circle Akko’s waist, squeezing a little bit while she planting a small kiss on the brunette’s shoulder. “Thank you for agreeing to teach me.”

“And what a teacher you’ve picked!” Akko giggled. “The last time I baked a cake, well… you were the one who brought Lotte to the clinic for a stomachache.”

Diana chuckled, and Akko couldn’t help but love the way she could feel the sound of it through her back pressed against Diana’s chest. “You know, I…”

“Mhm?”

“I always liked you teaching me new things.”

“After making beg all those times? You liked it after all?” Akko stuck her tongue out “Betrayal!”

“Oh, come on.” Diana nudged the side of Akko’s head. “It’s just… I always remember how I lost my magic when I was younger.”

Akko kept quiet, bring her pace of mixing to a slow, smooth motion.

“The kind of expectations my family had, and how hard it was to learn everything. Everyday. On my own. I remember how I couldn’t even cast simple spells, and how I told myself I’d never feel that… inept anymore. Not at school. Not at work.”

“But now, Diana, I’d say you’re pretty amazing.”

"That’s... Thank you.”

“But you don’t have to be,” Akko reassured.

“I… just never thought that. Not until recently. It felt right to be perfect—fit everyone’s preconceptions.”

“I don’t think you need to be perfect.”

Akko felt Diana’s arms wrap themselves around her a little tighter, felt her firsts clench with the way the cloth of her shirt balled up in them a little. The blonde witch relaxed, and then nuzzled against Akko’s shoulder.

“And I love you for that. Among many other things.”

Akko turned her head to kiss Diana’s temple. “Oh! Other things like what?”

“Must you always ruin these cheesy moments,” Diana rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway.

Akko laughed, dropping the mixing spoon to turn around in Diana’s embrace and drape her arms around her neck. “Indeed, I must! But for the record, I’m sure Hannah and Barbara don’t think so too, you know?”

Diana wiped a spatter of chocolate mix off Akko’s cheek with her thumb and licking it off on instinct.

“I love you.” Akko smiled, “even if you can’t bake to save your life.” She slowly brought a hand to cup Diana’s cheek and she tilted her head, inching forward for a soft, warm kiss that tasted like chocolate.

She really couldn’t bake. But somehow, Diana thought that was just fine.

---

An hour later, they found themselves trapped in an apartment that smelled like rich—yet slightly burnt—chocolate cake.

Diana looked a little lost and adorably sheepish, holding up a tray with a cake shaped like a… a rhombus? The frosting was uneven, although the birthday message was written in perfect handwriting (which was no small feat for a beginner!). Her sleeves were rolled haphazardly, and the apron looked hopelessly awkward on her, but by Jennifer—

(“Happy birthday,” she lifted the tray up as if to say ‘ta-da!’

Akko smiled so wide her cheeks hurt.)

—she looked absolutely perfect.

--

fin

---

A/N: Howdy folks! Firstly I genuinely hope everyone is safe and doing well. Stay at home--and stay properly informed! Secondly, aaaa I’ve missed writing and I’ve missed the fandom so have a cute fic! I have another idea which I’m excited to write!

This was the product of me getting so TIRED OF WRITING A RESEARCH PAPER all night and READING FOR THREE HOURS just to WRITE ONE SENTECE so I’m sorry if the grammar is kind of whack or for typOs you see sir it is 7;30am sir..,.,., i haven’t slept helpe meEe I am but an ant in a colony  L I F T

[bush-viper-cutie]

Green Lace and Peonies

(Part 2 of The Crystal Ball)

Pairing: Snape x fem!reader

Word Count: 4,276

Rating: M for Mature

Plot:  Severus Snape goes on a date with the girl his crystal ball paired him with. The date does not go as he thought it would, but he comes to realize how perfect she really is for him.

Warnings: It gets steamy :o

A/N: Back by popular demand! I hope this is a good continuation (wasn’t exactly sure how or where to take it) and that it wasn’t too “steamy” (or idk maybe it should have been more) and still just as fluffy but here it is. I’d love any thoughts on it :)

Posted: 4/26/20

Masterlist

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Severus’s heart was pounding as loud as his footsteps on the kitchen tile, clutching a gentle note in his trembling hand. He had paced away the dust in his living room floor already and would have to move on to his bedroom soon.

“What do I write?” his whispers carried throughout his empty home, bouncing off the torn wallpaper and echoed in his ears.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about the beautiful girl he’d met a few days ago, who had given him this note as well as herself all to him. She had said she’d be expecting his owl, but that felt like an eternity ago. Maybe she forgot about me already.

That was partly why he couldn’t bring himself to finish a single letter he started. Everything he wrote seemed idiotic. ‘Hello’ ‘Morning’ ‘You wanted to go on a date?’ ‘Go on a date with me?’ Everything seems so… he sighed and rubbed his eyes. Pathetic.

He pressed his hands on the edge of the sink and leaned forward, staring into the rusty drain. The only reason he was even still fretting about her was the effect her words had on his very being. She had called him her soulmate, given herself to him, and kissed his cheek with the softest lips in all of existence. A kiss he hadn’t stopped thinking about for a second. A kiss he recreated in his head, in his dreams... he blushed and turned away.

If there was any chance she was still waiting for him, he had to take it. Severus sat back down at the small round table in the corner of the kitchen and picked up the quill for the hundredth time that day. He looked at the note she’d attached to the flower she’d given him and placed it next to the picture of himself in his seventh year with three red hearts floating beside his face.

The sun was setting so he could no longer start it off with ‘Good morning,’ unless he sent it tomorrow – though he doubted he’d want this letter in his home for longer than it took to write it. He started with her name and a comma. Good… the bare minimum, he mocked himself.

He sighed and leaned back, letting his head hang off his shoulder, drawing all his hair to fall back and sweep the dusty counter behind him. He ran his hand through it, untangling knots as he went. He closed his tired eyes and shook his head. Just do it. Just write anything and send it off. She won’t even respond anyways.

He huffed and started scrawling as fast as he could, writing the first thing that popped into his head – it was like words were pinned to a board and he was throwing darts at random with every sentence.

I’d like to see you again if you have the time. Anywhere you’d like. I understand if you don’t, though. Don’t bother responding to this letter if that’s the case. I’ll be waiting your owl or lack thereof. I’ll get the message either way.

Severus Snape

He groaned. Just send it. He walked over to the opposite corner where a small owl slept in a large metal cage. He’d rented the owl from the post office for a few days before coming back to his house, though he’d have to return to London soon to give it back or face the past-due charges.

“Here,” he folded up the letter and shoved it into the little pocket tied to the owl’s leg.

The owl hooted, relieved to finally be able to stretch his wings, and hopped down onto Severus’ pale outstretched finger. The owl shook his wings open and waited for him to fling open the window, flying out into the evening sky ready to complete its duties.

That night Severus could do nothing but cringe at what he remembered writing, hoping he was exaggerating his words in his memories. He shook his sheets and slipped inside, tucking his nightshirt down and punching his pillow a few times before dropping his head onto it. He closed his eyes and ran a finger over the warm sensation on his cheek, remembering the way her nose brushed his skin.

. . .

There was a clicking sound, like pebbles hitting a window. Severus slowly opened his eyes and looked towards the light shining onto the floor. A weirdly shaped shadow moved around from one corner of the square of light to the other.

Severus sat up and flattened his hair, yawning wide and wiping his nose on his sleeve. He could feel the second his brain clicked on, because the lumpy shadow very quickly turned into the silhouette of a small owl.

He leapt off the bed and forced the bedroom window up, letting the tiny bird in. The owl flew to the top of his dresser and extended his leg. Severus’ heart stopped beating and his lungs ceased to function. He was dead by all accounts except for the quiet words ringing in his head: She responded. Merlin, she responded.

He quickly slid the letter out and turned on the light, moving the paper up close to his eyes as he read her writing.

Severus,

I want to see you soon. You’ve said anywhere I like, so let’s make it your place. Since you’re hosting, I’ll bring the food. Respond with any day or time. Be warned, if you don’t respond I’ll arrive at your doorstep next Friday. And if you think I won’t follow an owl, I will. Though I prefer your Floo location.

Severus chuckled. “‘All yours,’” she’d written it at the bottom just like the note. He had to admit he liked her humor as much as her lovely words. Wait… Severus held the letter closer suddenly. “‘your place.’”

He bit down his tongue in anger and rushed downstairs, looking around at the hole-ridden rug in the foyer, the piles and piles of books in his living room, and chipped paint and torn wallpaper in his kitchen.

“Damn it!” He hadn’t expected she’d want to come over. A restaurant or pub, sure, but his house? Why! He quickly scribbled his Floo location on a piece of spare parchment and sent the owl out again. “At least I don’t have to worry about cooking,” he pinched the bridge of his nose.

He spent the rest of the week doing what little he could to make the place look more like it had before… before he had left. He remembered the state of the house the last time he had seen it before leaving (running away more like) his house. The foyer had a working light that illuminated the beige wallpaper walls and light grey rug that covered the wooden floor from the welcome mat to the back-patio door.

The living room had a television set and a recliner chair with dust-free shelves full of souvenirs from his father’s schooling years and cans of empty beer. The kitchen was full of dirty dishes but the handles on every cabinet were polished and every surface was spotless. The walls were covered in a disgusting pastel yellow flower pattern from the previous owners… And now after four years the place looked abandoned – though it had been left to rot for almost two years before he moved back in.

He took out his wand and got to repairing the rug and removing the horrid wallpaper. The next day he fixed the handles and doorknobs of the only bathroom – which was upstairs – and cabinets. The rest of the days were spent trying to find space on the shelves for all his books. He shoved them through every space he could find above the book rows any way they would fit. And if they didn’t fit, then into his room they would go.

“Finally,” he shook his dusty hair and stepped back. The bookcase now looked like a solid wall of book spines but there were none out, which made the place look roomier.

The place looked… well she shouldn’t be surprised by any of it. The house now looked more like how he kept his potions classrooms – in some sort of organized mess. He’d spent the week cleaning in his night shirt because the only other thing he owned was his teaching clothes – though of course he couldn’t wear the cloak – and would settle on wearing his frock coat only.

Severus sat in his chair in the corner of the living room and closed his eyes. All that was left to do was wait for Friday to arrive.

. . .

The clock ticked five and Severus stared into the mirror, yet to button up his coat. He pressed down his hair and looked over his dark circled eyes and crooked nose. Sighing, he began the ritual of buttoning up starting from his collar – tucking his cravat in first – and making his way down to his waist, breathing slowly.

It was now six as he stood in the living room and turned towards the fireplace. He fidgeted with his hands behind his back and tried hard not to bite his bottom lip, fearing it would bruise like it always did. The fireplace lit with roaring flames and turned bright green. Severus straightened and heard his heart thumping loudly as the seconds went on, feeling like eternities just waiting for her to cross the fire.

A smooth leg in elegant heels stepped through, followed by soft-looking flowing hair as she ducked out from the fire and stepped into the dismal room. Her kind smile instantly lit up the place and he wanted very badly to look away and hide himself in his bedroom.

Her smile widened as she caught his eyes. “Severus,” she came closer.

He breathed in and was reminded of crushed peony powder. He noticed the basket she carried and took it, walking out of the room she was in and into the solitude of the kitchen where he set it down. He wiped his hands on his coat and let out a rugged breath. Calm down, for fuck’s sake.

“Severus? Are you alright?”

Severus turned to see her leaning on the door frame. His eyes betrayed him and scanned over her summer dress. The thin straps over her shoulders, the buttons down her chest, the flowery pattern of the skirt…

“Yes,” he cleared his throat and stepped aside, letting her go through the basket while he watched.

She pulled out several boxes, a jar of cut up fruit, and a green checkered blanket. She turned around and looked him over, licking her bottom lip as if tasting something sweet, “I thought we could have a type of picnic indoors. And it looks,” she glanced into the living room, “like you have room. Is that ok?”

Severus tore his eyes away from hers and nodded stiffly. He picked up the blanket and laid it out over the living room rug. She placed his own plates and glasses on the blanket and waved her wand, summoning the rest of the things.

“Why don’t you sit down,” she smiled and took a seat, folding her legs to the side and smoothing out her skirt.

Severus did as she said and crossed his legs. She leaned over and poured out the food carefully onto their plates – sautéed salmon and vegetables with a savory-looking glaze he couldn’t wait to try. At this point he wasn’t sure what was making his mouth water more, the food or the way her eyes drifted down to his lips as they talked.

The sun was now setting, changing the mood of the room. Her laughter turned into giggles and her eye gleamed with mischief every time she touched his arm. His heart leapt out of his chest and into his throat every time he felt her hand on him. He had counted at least five times he smiled stupidly during the meal and now, looking down at her hand on his arm again, made six.

“It’s getting late,” Severus cleared his throat, noticing the darkness looming outside the kitchen window. “What time did you need to be home?”

“No specific time, though I have an interview tomorrow morning,” she waved her wand and cleared the blanket of the dishes, glasses, and napkins. “You still have time tonight though, don’t you?” She whispered, inching closer to him.

He looked down at her and nodded, unable to help himself from leaning in further. She sat up on her knees and moved closer still, stopping right in front of him. Severus could feel his heart begin to beat faster and his hands becoming moist with a nervous sweat. He clenched his fists and kept them on his knees. It had only been a few hours since her arrival and yet he felt like he was coming undone. He was so used to keeping his composure so easily, it was frightening how fast he lost it.

“Thank you,” he breathed, “for the meal.”

“You’re welcome.” She lifted her hand and tucked a black strand of hair behind his ear, “May I kiss you, Severus?”

He looked at her intently, trying hard to distinguish the look she was giving him. He hadn’t expected everything to be going so well, let alone to be receiving another kiss that could melt him on the spot. He nodded and silently begged for her to kiss him like she’d done before. “Yes.”

He closed his eyes, waiting for a warm sensation on his cheek and felt instead her hand on his neck, pulling him in closer. He leaned forward, more than willing, and felt his lips go warm. He opened his eyes, shocked, and saw she was tilting her head, eyes closed as she kissed his lips.

He followed her motions and let out a deep and unexpected moan, pulling back quickly, “Sorry, I – ”

She pulled him back in and this time he felt her tongue slip into his mouth. Merlin, please don’t let this stop. Every fiber of his being was on fire. She ran her tongue over his and took his trembling hands in hers. He let her guide his hands to her hips, making him moan again, except this time she wasn’t letting him pull away.

He gripped her hips instinctively and closed his eyes, picturing her as she was now, leaning over him in her summer dress and heels. He could feel his wet lips being pulled on by hers and shivered with anticipation. His hand moved up her back and pushed her closer, although he could have never expected her reaction.

She sat up off her heels and moved closer, lifting her right leg over his and then her left, now sitting on his crossed-leg lap, her skirt spread over them as she pressed her lips deeper into his. He moaned again and Merlin only knows what possessed him to press her down deeper into his lap but feeling the pressure it caused made him moan louder.

He felt a smile pull at her lips as he pressed her down. She dug her fingers in his hair and start pulling. The air around them was starting to feel very hot, even for a summer night. She wrapped her arms around his shoulder and pulled herself away, trailing kisses along his jaw and up to his ear.

“Severus,” she moaned.

Please don’t stop. Please, he turned away, giving her his ear for full attention and sighed as she whispered and teased him further. His hands slowly trailed down to the edge of her skirt, playing with the hem, letting her know he wanted to go further. Just then she leaned back and pulled him with her as she laid down on the green checkered blanket.

“I’m yours, Severus. From the moment you sent me that message,” she pulled his cravat loose slowly and let it drop beside them, “You’re my soulmate.”

He propped himself on his elbows and bit his lip as the words reached his ears like a blessed melody. He trailed his eyes away from hers and down to where his black hair rested on the small buttons of her dress.

“I want to be all yours,” he whispered, feeling her heels slide up along the blanket, her thighs press against his torso, and her knees lock him in place. All yours.

He climbed further up her body and pressed his lips into hers, needing to feel her sweet tongue inside his mouth once more. Make me yours. I’ll do anything. He kicked off his dress shoes and let her take his left hand and place it on her knee behind him. He felt her gentle fingers press on his hand and guide him down her thigh and under her skirt but letting him finish the movement on his own.

He stretched out his fingers and slid them slowly deeper under her skirt until they felt a textured cloth by her hips. He let out another moan and noticed she gave another smile as they kissed. He followed the cloth down towards her lower back and wedged his fingers between the ground and her warm skin, feeling how smooth and soft she was.

“Squeeze me,” she whispered into his lips.

“Merlin… you tease too much,” he laughed.

“I’m not teasing,” her smile grew as she watched his eyes widen.

He slid his hand down from the cloth and traced a small circle on her plump curves. He squeezed, feeling his thoughts cease as he focused on the moment. He found himself pushing his hips down on her harder and moaning at the mounding pressure. He could feel his ears and cheeks going red and heard a small giggle escape her lips. He looked away and pressed his forehead down in the crook of her neck and kissed her collarbone gently, trying to reel his thoughts back in place.

“Can we go to your room?”

“M-my room?” He knew his bedroom was a complete mess. He had shoved anything out of place in there, practically throwing it in. The only thing he knew he organized neatly were his newly acquired jars of eastern specimens from Knockturn Alley. Would the alphabetical labeling impress her?

“Severus?” She pulled his chin up to look at her pleading eyes. She pressed him closer to her with her legs, begging him to give in.

“Alright,” the word came out as a trembling breath. He did not want the night to ever end, even if it meant facing more embarrassment. She already had him sweating and thinking things he dared not repeat but he didn’t let himself imagine what would happen in his bedroom lest he lose himself completely.

He stood up and helped her to her feet. She jumped up and kissed his cheek roughly like he’d seen girls do to their partners a million times back in school. It made him blush and so he quickly turned, hiding his face behind his hair and lead the way up. He pulled on the sleeves of his coat down further over his hands as they ascended the stairs to the second floor and walked the few steps to his bedroom door.

He opened it and stepped aside, letting her in first, unable to watch her reaction to the old highly-likely-to-creek-loudly bed, torn sheets, piles of books, pots, and cauldrons littered in the corners. Please don’t be disgusted.

She stepped into the room and turned, pulling him into a teasing kiss and lead him to his bed. Not uncomfortable about the mess? She is my soulmate, he smiled.

“Excited?” she pushed him down on the bed.

“I’m happy you came over,” he was glad the lights weren’t bright in here either as he was sure his face was more than just hot to the touch.

She curled her index finger under his chin and stepped between his legs, lifted her leg over his thigh and rested her knee on the bed next to him. His hands automatically moved to her waist, but she pushed them away, winking.

“I have something for you,” she kissed his lips lightly. “Lean back.”

He did as he was told and watched with a parted mouth as she began unbuttoning her dress, pulling the strands over her shoulders, and letting the dress drop to the floor. She trailed her hand from her neck and down her body. His eyes followed her hand, admiring the matching lace underwear set she had on. He recognized the cloth was a Slytherin-green color, along with two silver bows on either side of her hips, ready to be pulled apart. He licked his lips and closed his mouth, remaining as composed as possible.

“I wasn’t sure what your favorite color was, so I thought your Slytherin colors would do,” she winked and leaned forward, placing her other knee beside him and sat down on his lap again. “What do you think?”

“You’re perfect.” The words jumped out of his mouth before he could even process his thoughts, “I mean – t-the – Green and silver look really nice.” He could tell by the way she was smiling his face had probably gone full red. I can’t believe she is actually wearing this for me. She thought of me... She wanted to impress me. At this point his house could catch on fire, burning every book he own, and it would still be the greatest night of his life.

He turned his head as she leaned forward, kissing his ear and sending another shiver down his body.

“You’re everything I want,” she whispered, “You’re all I’ll ever want.”

Severus closed his eyes, listening intently at every word she spoke like a spell she was putting him under. She wants me as much as I want her. Only me… Only ever me. His hands trailed up her thigh and pulled her closer, “I’m yours. I’m all yours.” He pressed into her kiss and took in every sensation, wanting to remember everything about tonight for the rest of his life.

She pulled away slightly, “Even while you keep teaching at Hogwarts… And I work elsewhere?” Her words were nothing more than a murmur.

Severus opened his eyes and turned to look at her. She was hiding something. He could tell by the way her closed-mouth smile didn’t reach her eyes this time.

“Of course. You’re…” he paused to look deep into her eyes. “My soulmate…” he could feel the weighty truth of his words.

“Promise?”

He gently nudged her off and sat up beside her on the bed, “I promise.” His tone was stern, hoping to convey how deeply he meant it.

She smiled genuinely once more. She undid the straps of her heels and slid them off. She pulled the sheets up and slipped inside, “Join me?”

He nodded and unbuttoned his coat all the way, sliding it off and throwing it over the footboard. She reached up and slid her finger under his waistcoat and pulled him down under the sheets with her. Unsure how to position himself he laid on his back and looked over at her.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

She giggled and kissed his jaw lightly, pulling herself towards him and laid her head on his chest. She draped an arm over him and held him tight. This was also a moment he would not forget, having often wished he had someone to hold or anyone who even wanted to hold him. He rested his arm over her body and played with another silver ribbon he found on the green lace. His eyelids started drooping and he wished she could stay the night.

“I wish I didn’t have to, but I have to leave soon,” she sighed.

He didn’t want this perfect night to end. She was wonderful, soft, kind, and liked him despite all the terrible things wrong with what he could barely call his home. He cleared his throat, “I understand… Good luck in your interview.”

She smiled and kissed him one last time before standing up to dress. He watched her sit and slide her heels back on and stand. She surprised him when she reached for his hand and held it as they walked down the stairs and back into the living room together.

She grabbed the basket and threw Floo powder into the fireplace. Green fire roared to life and he pulled her in for a hug. Her arms wrapped around him and he felt like never pulling away from her embrace, wanting to hold her like that for the rest of his life.

She pulled away and picked up his cravat from the floor, he reached to take it from her, but she pulled it back. She laughed and reached behind her back and then reached into her dress, pulling on the green lace and offered it up to him, “Do you accept an exchange?”

He smiled wide, loving the constant teasing, “If I must.” He chuckled.

“Dream of me tonight,” she kissed his cheek and winked, a sparkle of mischief present in her eyes once more, “And I’ll see you soon, Severus.”

He felt that stupid smile of his creep up onto his face once more and nodded, watching her disappear in the fire. He looked around embarrassed, as if he weren’t alone in his home, and ran upstairs. He quickly changed into his night shirt and crawled into bed, pulling the sheets up to his nose and breathed in. It still smelled like crushed peony powder. He opened his drawer and placed the green lace inside, still amazed she had worn it just for him. She would definitely haunt his dreams tonight.

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Masterlist

Request: 

Thank you

@wow-life-love4​

@x-avantgarde-x​

and a few others (not sure if you wanted to be tagged but thank you for requesting a second part)

and for all the lovely comments on part one!