#most of what i know is completely out the window without onions

[confinesofmy]

for the first time in a long time, i threw together something to eat and it was actively bad. not because of parosmia or any other external thing, it just genuinely wasn't good. i barely finished it and was really glad it was one serving. #humbled

[trivialbob]

Last night Sheila and I went to a seafood place. For a cheeseburger.

Coastal Seafoods in Minneapolis is a fresh seafood market. It's a neat little place. When @littlerunnergurl visited us years ago she and I shopped there for ingredients of a seafood stew LRG made for us.

There's a small counter for hot food in back. Two four-tops and a small row of bars stools next to a cold window is the complete dining room. A Facebook page devoted to smashburgers had mentioned this place's burger recently. That's what got us over there.

We ordered one Coastal Burger. "Two 4oz Wagyu Beef Patties, Caramalized Onion Jam, Pickles, American Cheese, & Dijon Mayo on Toasted Brioche!" (images from the Coastal Foods website)

I also ordered the wonderful looking Connecticut Style Lobster Roll. "Warm Lobster & Seasoned Butter on a Toasted Tom Cat Bakery Roll"

The cook cut them in half so Sheila and I could try some of each. Both were fantastic. We didn't order French fries or any sides. The older I get the wiser I am about not ordering too much food. For sure if there had been a serving of fries in front of me I wouldn't have left until the plate was clean. As it was, we walked out feeling satisfied yet not needing to adjust the car seats back so we could fit in the Subaru.

I'd been wanting to see some dive bars. A block away is the Fraternal Order of Eagles #34. It's an appropriately dimly lit place where most of the customers seemed to know each other. We didn't order food, but I almost did just to purchase a cheeseburger for under ten bucks, a rare thing these days.

The bartender was friendly. She knew what to pour for people a few times without asking. I chuckled when she asked us if we'd be okay for a bit unattended when she went outside for a quick smoke.

It's located at the intersection of two similarly named streets. When I was a kid it was mind-blowing when I saw Minneapolis street signs with the same numbers. Sure, the Av and St make a difference, but it still seemed like division by zero to someone not yet accustomed to how cities named numbered east/west and north/south roads. Similarly, I was amazed when my dad pointed out the named streets in some places were in freaking alphabetical order.

After a bottle of beer (and a sunset) we drove south a short distance through the cold and dark night to the Schooner Tavern. It too is at an intersection of numbered streets.

It was a bit louder, but no less dimly lit, than the previous place. The two bartenders were very friendly. Sheila and I again sat at the bar for one beer.

We listened to conversations around us. It was only 5:30 PM but some folks appeared to have started the evening early. A frazzled looking guy (who was probably 15 years younger than he actually appeared) must have gotten the happy hour special on "fucks" which seem to have been a 20-for-1 deal. Whew, I got tired of hearing that word used as noun, verb, adjective, preposition, pronoun, article, and adverb.

The bottles behind the bar appeared to glow. If the bar had been quieter maybe I would have heard them hum.

Sometimes I want of those tiny Red Bull refrigerators with the glass door (as seen in the left side of this picture I took). Sheila doesn't think it would look appropriate on our coffee table no matter how well it fit. People would probably trip over the power cord she also claims. I still want one though.

We still enjoyed the atmosphere while we had one beer. After that we headed to the brewery by our house. It's at the intersection of one named and one numbered street, more to the sensibilities of my suburban mind.

We met up with one couple we know and another couple who were on a second date. The guy is a regular, the woman is new to that crowd. At first she seemed like she wanted to move to a private table. Soon though she warmed up to us, and the six of us had a great conversation.

I'm going to start looking up some more dive bars for another weekend.

[eldritchsurveys]

1187.

If you had $10,000 dollars right now what would you do with it? >> Pay 3 months of rent and then just keep the remaining for whatever I want or need until it runs out. When was the last time you consumed alcohol? >> I don't remember. A couple of weeks ago?

Have you ever broken a bone? >> I have not.

What type of perfume do you use the most? >> I have some roll-ons from Demeter that I use day-to-day, and I also have my Thierry Mugler Alien dupe.

What book are you reading, currently? >> I am an Executioner: Love Stories by Rajesh Parameswaran. I like it a lot but the first two stories definitely ripped my heart out.

Are you interested in creative writing of any sort? >> Sure.

Would you introduce the last person you kissed to your parents? .

Can a boy and girl be friends without having feeling for one another? .

Can you ever see yourself and your ex back together? . Are any of your friends virgins? .

Who did you last go out to eat with? >> Sparrow.

Is your ex a complete loser? >> I'm far out of the phase of disparaging people I used to be entangled with. What does the shirt you’re wearing look like? Where did you get it from? >> I'm just wearing an undershirt.

Who is the funniest person you know? .

Do you say sorry first? .

What do you look like right now? >> What do you mean, what do I look like? A person?

Who’s bed were you on last? >> Mine. Who was the last person you talked to before you went to bed last night? .

Do you like to cuddle? >> I love to cuddle in realmspace. Don't know if I'd like cuddling in meatspace -- first I'd have to find someone out here that I'd actually want to be that close to. That's hard enough.

Is sex on your mind more than 3 times a day? >> Oh, absolutely.

What were you doing an hour ago? >> I was pacing around my room to get some movement in whilst watching TikToks.

Do you like it up against the wall? >> Fucking? Are we talking about fucking? It's a great concept but in meatspace it can get a little uncomfortable, painful even, depending on exactly what kind of contact is happening.

Do you prefer girlfriend / boyfriend or friends with benefits? >> These particular dividing lines don't make any sense to me, so I can't say.

Are you smiling? >> I am not. But my face hurts because I was just smiling very goofily at a video of Matthew McConaughey making noises for three minutes straight that a tumblr mutual tagged me in. Why is he the way that he is 🖤

When did you last eat pizza? >> A couple of weeks ago? At least. Honestly, are things going the way you planned? >> What things? Not that it matters, I don't really plan in the first place.

Is the last person of the opposite sex you texted single? . Who did you spend your summer with last year? .

Did you wear what you are wearing today for a specific reason? >> The specific reason of it being comfortable, yeah. I chose these pants because I just got them yesterday at the thrift shop and I wanted to see how they fit. Which is perfectly, thank the gods. They're very soft, too, and they have pockets. Best five dollars I could have spent. What was the last thing you ate? >> Birds Eye brand veggie rotini (as in, the rotini is made from veggies) with marinara sauce. Put sundried tomatoes and bacon bits and crunchy onions in it too.

Are you taking this survey in a place other than your home? >> I am not.

Did you get ice cream from the ice cream truck when you were little? Do they still have an ice cream truck where you live? >> I wasn't allowed to, no. Ice cream trucks do exist where I currently live. One of them neighs, for some reason, and I'll always remember the time when I was in the middle of some ~play~ and that fucking neigh went off right outside my window. Definitely a mood shift...

What has been the most traumatic experience of your life? Does it still bother you? >> There's no way I can pick one event as Thee Most Traumatic. The "complex" in CPTSD is there for a reson.

What would happen if you had a baby with the last person you kissed? >> Of all the things we get up to in realmspace, having babies is not going to be one of them.

Don’t you hate it when your cell phone dies in the middle of a convo? . If you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today? .

Would you run down the street naked if it meant earning $15,000? >> Sure, as long as I'm granted immunity from the law. Having to blow that 15k on bail or lawyers or court fees would suck.

Where was the last place you got completely wasted? >> Either J. Gardella's Tavern (RIP) or my house. Have you ever changed the prices of items at a store? >> I haven't.

Would your parents disown you if you got pregnant? .

When was the last time you drank alcohol? What was it? >> This is probably one of those surveys that is actually 3 surveys shoved together into one. As stated, I don't remember exactly when, but I know it was a Pearsecco.

Do you like where you live? >> I don't much care for it.

Are you going to any concerts or festivals this summer? >> I don't know anything about this summer yet, it's only March.

Have you had sex with someone you weren’t married to? Someone you weren’t even dating? >> I have only had sex with people I wasn't married to. I have also had sex with plenty of people I wasn't dating. Are you under the age of 18? >> I am not.

Do you have a job? >> I do not.

Are you going to school still? Do you plan on going to college? >> I do not plan on going to college.

Are you overweight? >> I assume not.

Would you get married at 18? >> Well, I didn't.

Have you ever been so wasted, you couldn’t walk? >> I have not, strangely enough. I've been so high on dissociatives that I could barely walk, but I could walk. I just looked like a really fucked up robot.

What is the last thing that you got really excited over? . Any baby names you think you might name your future kids? .

When was the last time you had sex? >> In realmspace, a couple of days ago. In meatspace, uhh... 2017? The last time I had the kind of sex that actually involved like, taking clothes off and putting things in places was 2015.

Who did you last hang out with other then family? . Do you remember the last boy you texted? What was it about? .

If you could go back in time and change things, would you? .

Has anyone had their hand in your pants today? >> No.

Do you like your dad? How about your mom? .

Have you had a good day today or was yesterday better? >> Both today and yesterday were just regular old days. I mean, yesterday I did go to the thrift store, which was different, but otherwise it was just... a day.

Do you have anything that belongs to your boyfriend/girlfriend? .

Think back to your most important relationship, was it all your fault it’s over? .

Was your last kiss drunk or sober? >> Well, it certainly wasn't drunk.

What’s your favorite color? >> Yellow/gold. Do you drink? >> Infrequently.

Do you smoke? >> Not tobacco.

Ever had a black eye? >> I have not. I don't think.

When was the last time you slept in bed with a member of the opposite sex? Who was it? . Did your most recent kiss take place in/on a bed? .

Has anyone seen you naked in the last 6 months? >> Yeah, because I live with someone and I don't care about being unclothed around them. How would you describe your current relationship status? >> Well. My legal relationship status is married. I don't have much use for the concept of a "relationship status" otherwise.

Have you ever shared food/drink off the same plate/glass as someone you like? >> I mean, I've done that with several people, not because I was romantically interested in them but just because I'm cool with sharing food with people.

Have you ever had a valentine? .

Have your lips ever gone numb from kissing? >> This has not happened to me.

Last person to cuddle with? >> Can Calah, as usual.

[memorydragon]

Some thoughts on Yan Xie

So I've written two posts about how normal I am about Jiang Ting, I figured I should at least make a post about Yan Xie as well. (If you're tired of my general unhinged-ness about these gay coproganda novels, I hate to tell you this, but you're getting more)

Let me start off by saying that Yan Xie is really not my kind of character. Like, yes, I'm unhinged about him too now, but it was definitely not a blorbo at first sight. I think I've said this before, but he's a dumbass, not a himbo. The distinction being he is very much not pure of heart, his hand is very dishonestly sitting in Jiang Ting's lap (listen, don't ask me why that line absolutely tickled me, but it did) and he's very much the 'straight male cancer' that everyone calls him. (English, please adopt this phrase from Chinese because it's such a good phrase)

When Jiang Ting asks him if he's ever cut an onion, he answers without a hint of irony that he's a man, of course he's never been in the kitchen. He comes from a fuck ton of money and is a criminal investigator because Chief Wei went to his father when Yan Xie turned 18 and said "He's either going to be caught by the police and put in jail, or he can join the police and catch criminals." Like, I honestly hesitate over calling it coprogranda, because it is definitely coproganda, but at the same time the novel has no problem with acab and boy am I twice as terrified of the police here. Yan Xie very much embodies that.

He's aggressive, a natural born brawler, domineering, pushy (which is where I often disconnected with him) and very much a rebel without a cause. One of the things I love about his character is that the author actually does give us a bit of detail of his first few years in the police as a low level grunt. Aside from being funny, it's also very charming, that's he's climbing through windows to help elderly who are locked out, and other completely minor things.

Then he chases after a thief and ends up catching a drug dealer.

This propels him into Jiang Ting's world, just briefly. It was stupid and reckless, but incredibly honest in a way Jiang Ting couldn't be. Like, I've called it a crush, but I don't actually think it was love at first sight for Jiang Ting. It's more of a very strong impression of yearning, but this is not a post about Jiang Ting, so back to focusing on the dumbass.

Yan Xie isn't actually stupid. He's got lousy grades, but he is actually very good at his job. So he fights for getting the merit for stopping the drug dealer when the other district tries to give it to someone else. Jiang Ting eventually allows the merit to go to Yan Xie, and Yan Xie gets promoted and very complicated feelings towards the captain of the narcotics unit. He wants to transfer, but Chief Wei forces him to withdraw the request because the waters are too deep and he's still the son of the richest man in their district. So he becomes a criminal investigator, moving up through the ranks to be a young vice captain.

Which is where we see him at the start of the novel. He's still aggressive, domineering, and a rich young master. He's rude and crass and while he's got a cause now, he's still very rough and incomplete. And that's when Jiang Ting walks back into his life.

I said at the start that he's really not my cup of tea as a character, but where he really rubbed me wrong was with consent and being super pushy. Like, it wasn't enough to make me stop reading, but it was there and definitely hitting my buttons.

The first read through I basically ignored these characterizations like Nick Fury ignoring the council. After the sex scene Yan Xie's pushiness was much more tolerable, and what really sold me on the ship was that he made Jiang Ting, a perpetual frowning trauma kitten, laugh. Like, okay, I can forgive most of everything before for that.

The second read through, it was easier to see Jiang Ting's affection. I know I said this wasn't a Jiang Ting post, but he's a very subtle character and his reactions to Yan Xie were the main thing putting me off. But the second read through, I know when Jiang Ting is lying (all the time). It's also easier to see Jiang Ting genuinely involving himself with Yan Xie as that original yearning turns to affection. So while I'm still not fond of Yan Xie being drunk and deciding it's about time their relationship progressed to sex or the 'he says no but means yes' inherent in that sex scene (yup, I'm still ignoring that authorial decision, that's probably never going to change), a lot of the earlier scenes hit my buttons a lot less. Yes, he's pushy, but Jiang Ting is genuinely sus. He's pushy because he's frustrated that Jiang Ting won't tell the truth.

Putting aside how much 'You think because you pointed a gun at my head that I wouldn't miss you?' makes me absolutely feral, what really got me genuinely liking Yan Xie despite all of that is because he's honestly a well written character. When he and Jiang Ting get together, Jiang Ting doesn't change him to be a better person. Yan Xie changes himself.

This is a man who went through 108 blind dates that all ended with the girl saying 'you're rich and hot, but no thanks.' Like, he is rich and hot. He really should have no trouble getting a girl friend because there's bound to be a gold digger willing to put up with him. If he actually wanted to go out and have sex like the straight male he thought he was, he would not actually have problems with one night stands. But he doesn't want that. He knows he's not good dating material and Mother Yan's despair at ever getting a daughter-in-law was so real that she even picked up a book on legal issues about gay marriage before her son showed a remote interest in men, that's how desperate she was.

He's had no real reason to change and better himself, aside from continuing to be promoted in the police force. But then he falls and falls hard for Jiang Ting. He follows Jiang Ting into the kitchen and learns how to wash dishes and chop onions, genuinely learning that he actually likes to cook. He knows even though he's fallen hard for Jiang Ting, he still has to wait to be picked (which was honestly such a great scene. I replace the sex scene with that mentally for my own sanity). He's still crude, still a dumbass who runs his mouth and pushy, but he learns to also to make way for someone else in his life, to support their choices (when he's not being a bride-zilla. For someone who was convinced he was straight he so takes after his mother). When Jiang Ting has to go back undercover, instead of being unreasonable he knows he can't stop Jiang Ting from getting revenge, so he tells him that whatever happens, he'll still support Jiang Ting's choice.

For all of his hangups about having to be the top in the relationship, I firmly believe they're a switch couple (sorry, author, but once Jiang Ting works out a way through Yan Xie's Straight Male Cancer, you can't convince me otherwise. Not that Yan Xie would ever admit to switching out loud, but they totally do from time to time.) Like, you've proven that he'd let Jiang Ting get away with murder, you can't tell me he'd genuinely say no to anything Jiang Ting wanted.

What really endeared him to me though were the scenes when he does both physically and mentally hurt Jiang Ting. Because he is still rough around the edges, prickly in ways that can't be sanded down. He pushes, and sometimes he pushes too hard. But what gets me is after the realization he's pushed too far, he apologizes. Not an empty apology either, but forcibly biting back his temper to be gentle. He knows when he's gone too far, and he can't always stop himself, but he will back off and wipe away the dirty water from Jiang Ting's ankles or tend his scalded feet. He doesn't promise to never do it again, but he does actually learn to better accommodate and listen to Jiang Ting, and honestly, I love Yan Xie a lot for that. He's far from perfect, but he's trying, and he's willing to accept Jiang Ting despite Jiang Ting flat out telling him that yes, he's seen all Yan Xie has done for him, but he still can't trust.

That and this scene.

Like, it makes me completely unhinged and feral every single time and lives rent free in my head. Yan Xie really became the Most Blorbo at that point and I love him for that. No, I'm really not okay about this scene, it fucks me up good.

In conclusion, Yan Xie is probably more of a dog breed, but due to my slight cynophobia I could not tell you which one. So I have to default to cats. And as a cat, he is the fluffiest and most majestic orange cat. Like, he's a menace and very clever about opening closed doors or getting into treats (he is very good at his job as a criminal investigator after all. He may not be able to explain it in the same way Jiang Ting can, but his instincts and logic are top notch and he figures out a lot even without Jiang Ting there), but he's also the dumbest orange cat you'll ever see. He will majestically knock off a glass of water, then fall off when he tries to get up and strut away. I love you, Yan Xie, but oh my god, please use your braincells for things other than being a cop.

[ohnohetaliasues]

Stones to Abbigale {Ch. 10}

(Kat)

Here we go again. I am still alive and actually still active on tumblr, but I mostly do writing and fanfiction now. I still enjoy the occasional fic review, though.

If I have to read Abbi and James going any further than kissing I’m going to need either a brain transplant or a lobotomy, whichever makes me forget faster. 

But I know they will. I know they will and I will have to read it with my two eyes and you will be able to read my suffering. I will put a warning when that chapter comes around in case any of you want to skip it. I honestly wouldn’t blame you.

Let’s get into it.

The next morning I was surprised Davis didn’t leap up to greet me as I walked on the bus with Abbi. We sat across from him but he just looked out his window, surrounding himself in a silent gloom while paying us no attention. 

I mean, there’s the chance he’s traumatized. He did just survive a shooting.

“Hey Davis, how are you today?” I asked. 

Davis replied without turning towards me, “Why don’t you have a car? You’re 17, only losers like me ride the bus.” 

Well, that’s a rather rude way of responding to a friend asking you how you are.

Abbi gave me a look of concern.

As she should. 

 Though Abbi didn’t know Davis too well yet, she understood him to be a happier person; neither of us expected Davis to say something so negative.

 I responded to Davis, “Not everyone has a white picket fence life Davis, some people have to ride the bus.” 

I hate the way the dialogue tags are written before the actual fucking dialogue. It’s so irritating to read and it is nOT HOW YOU WRITE DIALOGUE.

Davis turned angrily and spoke as he pierced me with the most intense glare I had ever seen, “You don’t think I know that? You should get a job! Buy your own car! What are you even doing with your life?”

In case you forgot, Davis, teenagers usually don’t have everything figured out. As much as I hate James, there’s no reason for him to be attacked for something as completely fucking mundane as riding the school bus. 

I sat back, giving up on changing his mood and thought to myself “Happiness, as far as I care, can’t be acquired through any means if love is not involved.”

 If I got a job on top of school, I’d have barely any time to spend with Abbi.

She now apparently lives with you, plus you go to school with her. You’ll see her plenty.

I needed her more than anything and I thought Davis knew this. 

Broski, he probably needs you, too. 

He’s supposed to James’ best friend, but all James cares about is Abbi and I imagine Davis is probably annoyed and hurt that James is only paying attention to his girlfriend and not making time for his best friend after something like this happened.

Or Onion wants to create drama, and making Davis angry for some reason is the most low effort way of doing so. My money is on that since I don’t think that man is capable of intelligent, complex thoughts, nor is he capable of any kind of decent storytelling. 

Davis was probably just upset over everything that had happened recently and this was his way of coping.

It’s honestly more concerning that James isn’t as affected by the shooting. Davis is reacting in a normal way to a massive, traumatizing, and tragic event. All James cares about is the girl in his bed. 

Trying to close the conversation on a less negative note I said, “Well buddy, I’m here if you need me!” with the same tone he always used on me.

No, you’re not.

He rolled his eyes, scoffed and scooted closer to his window. Abbi remained next to me, running her fingers over the hairs on my hand. It was such a positive distraction.

Why is she doing that instead of just holding his hand? That’s not a thing I’ve ever heard of someone doing. Did Onion forget that sometimes people hold hands and like, run their fingers over the person they’re holding hands with’s knuckles? 

Later that morning I found myself in my History class staring at a very nervous Mr. Hanson. 

“You all realize the President of the United freaking States is going to be here right?” he asked the class. 

Okay, two things.

That was actually formatted how a quotation should, but that’s probably not going to stick.

Secondly, WHAT?!

I think this was released in like, 2015 or so, meaning that was Obama, so does this just make this book a very elaborate ‘Obama was there’ meme? I will choose to look at it that way since that makes it a minuscule amount less insufferable. 

I know that the President sometimes goes to schools to speak. President Obama once just arrived at a DC high school. He just casually strolled into a classroom, like the legend he is. I guess it makes sense for him to show up to speak in the wake of a tragedy like this, but it was just so fucking jarring that this was announced the day it was happening instead of, I dunno, days in advance like how planning usually works?

Whoever planned this needs to be fired. 

Most the students looked confused, as we were not briefed when exactly we would see him.

Why? Why not?

A voice erupted as our classroom door was swiftly pushed open. 

“The President of the United freaking States is about to arrive ladies and gentlemen,” said a large man wearing a black suit.

This is all happening so fast I don’t even know what to say.

 Mr. Hanson laughed nervously over the fact that, what we soon realized was a member of the Secret Service, had overheard him. 

Thanks for that unnecessary comma after ‘Secret Service.’ Also, that whole sentence in general was just a fucking mess. 

It should be written something like: “Mr. Hanson laughed nervously when he realized that someone had overheard him, and we later realized said person was a member of the Secret Service.”

See? The sentence structure is better, it reads easier, and it doesn’t make your brain hurt. But no, no editing allowed, no criticism, it’s against Onion laws.

Throw me in Onion Jail then, I guess. 

Also, did the Secret Service member just announce the president arriving by saying “the President of the freaking United States,” like he’s surprised by the person he works for? Is he an idiot, or is he just constantly in awe of the President? My money is on both.

Edit: I realize he’s quoting Mr. Hanson, but I like my joke that I made and I’m keeping it there even if it’s stupid.

Mr. Hanson turned to the class and in a rushed tone said “Alright, think before you ask the President anything, no stupid questions!” 

Ah, there goes the proper formatting of dialogue. We had a good run.

Another voice came from outside the door “You’re right Mr. Hanson, there are no stupid questions.” 

Hello, Obama. 

We all froze to see it was the President who had spoken.

As he walked in the room I quickly realized he was much taller than I had assumed from watching TV. The President centered himself in the room as the Secret Service asked Mr. Hanson to take a seat at his desk.

Four members of the USSS stood behind the President as he began to speak, 

Why? It would make more sense for them to be stationed at the doors, but I’m not an expert on the US Secret Service so I really wouldn’t know. It just seems crowded as fuck to have four people standing behind you while standing in an already not very large classroom, but I digress.

“I’m not here to bring a dark cloud into this room. I want to be uplifting, to be helpful, and I want all of you to feel like you can say whatever you like, without any fear of criticism or repercussion”

There is no period at the end of that sentence. 

 Chris Jenkins, the class clown, blurted out “Why are you such a D-Bag?”

Um.

I have met stupid people. But I don’t think I’ve met anyone that stupid.

Actually, that’s a lie, there were some massive dumbasses I went to high school with. And, truthfully, who I go to college with, currently.

 Most everyone in the class sat in shock as Mr. Hanson violently lurched up like a frantic animal yelling in a high-pitched tone “Chris! How dare you disrespect the...”

If I have to read the words ‘most everyone’ again I am going to have a fucking conniption. I don’t think Onion ever passed high school English class. Hell, I don’t think he passed middle school English. 

He has the IQ of a fucking life raft, though, so nobody is surprised by that. 

If you’ll allow me to go into a writer rant here for a second, I’ll tell you why this is wrong. ‘Most everyone’ is not proper grammar. The word ‘most’ means the greatest part of something, as all of you undoubtedly know, so ‘most everyone’ means the greatest part of everyone here. What greatest part are you talking about? Their heads and torsos? Their legs and torsos? 

While people do use it, it sounds fucking wrong. Like, if you replace it with ‘almost everyone’ it works and sounds normal, but ‘most everyone’ sounds fucking stupid. 

“Mr. Hanson.” the President interrupted, “Thank you.” 

A USSS member then asked Mr. Hanson to return to his seat.

The dialogue formatting is making me so goddamn mad that I have to correct it because it’s such a headache to read. I leave the dialogue tags as they are, because that means I can make fun of them, but I cannot read something where there are no fucking paragraph breaks when somebody speaks. 

DOES THIS MAN NOT KNOW THE BASIC RULES OF WRITING DIALOGUE? NO. HE JUST DECIDED TO WRITE A BOOK WITHOUT PRACTICING AND PUBLISHED HIS FIRST DRAFT. 

There is nothing more impersonal that critiquing someone’s grammar, but even when fans offered to help correct spelling and grammar, Onion refused. So, like a moron, he released the book unedited. Or he let his partner edit it. I don’t know, they didn’t do a very good job if that’s the case.

The President walked over to Chris, pulling his own pants slightly back so he could crouch.

 Why the fuck does he feel the need to crouch?

 “Now you may feel I am what you said, a D-Bag, but you should know to address me as President D-Bag as I, and many Americans, believe I earned the title of President.”

Uh. Okay. 

Sick burn, I guess?

Chris, now shaking and not knowing what to say let out a nervous and horribly awkward chuckle. 

Why is he shaking? It’s not like the President threatened him.

The President smiled and returned to the front of the room as he said “Now what other questions do you all have for me?”

 Literally everyone in class aside from Chris raised their hand. 

‘Literally everyone’ is a nice change from ‘most everyone.’

Y’know, because it fucking makes sense. 

Also, why the fuck is he taking questions instead of making a speech about the shooting, or saying what his response plan will be for gun violence so these kids don’t have to be afraid? Nah, he just pulls up like ‘so who wants to ask me a question?’ Like this is a Reddit AMA.

The President looked directly at me and said “James Patrick, the boy who nearly saved the day, what is your question?” 

Nearly saved the day? James didn’t do shit. All he did was run around looking for Abbi, he didn’t save anyone’s lives. The incessant praise James receives for doing absolutely fucking nothing is baffling. 

I replied, “You know who I am?” 

He responded, “I’ve read up on this school and the recent events quite a bit. How are your feet healing up?”

Why would some random ass dude who got glass in his feet be in any kind of official report? Sure, his name would be among the survivors and witnesses, but he didn’t really do anything of note. This is absolute bullshit.

 I was overwhelmed but I had to keep it together so I quickly replied, “Really well actually, the ambulance guys did an amazing job getting the glass and dirt out.” 

You mean the EMTs? The paramedics? They have a technical name. This makes it seem like Onion forgot what they were called and just didn’t bother to google it. 

Which, honestly, is probably what happened.

The President followed with “That’s wonderful to hear, what was your question?” 

I replied, “I just wanted to know how you feel about the things people call you, in the news and around the world.”

Completely irrelevant to the situation at hand, but okay.

The President gave a slightly sad smile and replied “I cannot, and do not want to control what people say about me.

Why? You wanna have a good approval rating, don’t you?

All I can really fully control is what I myself am saying and doing. I find myself repeatedly stating that I came into office with the best intentions, and I continue to lead as President with those very same intentions. Some decisions I have to make aren’t always fair to me, my family or many people around the world, but sometimes your only options lie between the end of a slipknot or the blade a guillotine, and that’s the burden I chose to carry.” 

Why does this sound like something Trump would say?

Gross.

Also, ‘sometimes your only options lie between the end of a slipknot or the blade of a guillotine?’ That is an absolutely bonkers thing to say to a room full of high school students.

The class paused for a few seconds and then all at once everyone but Chris & myself raised their hands again.

Why— Why the ampersand? That’s not proper grammar. You do not use an ampersand to replace the word ‘and’ in a sentence in prose writing, the two are not interchangeable. 

One of the USSS members spoke up “Mr. President we need to move on.”

He was there for like, two minutes. Why the hell is he going from class to class individually instead of just holding an assembly and speaking in front of the whole school?

 The President lifted his hand and said to the class “I want you all to know there are going to be some major changes around your school. I’ve approved a budget shift that will help fund significant renovations and an effective security program that will promote a safer environment for everyone here.”

Uh. Great. Thanks. Better than thoughts and prayers, I suppose.

“I will not stand by and do nothing when these incidents occur. So I’m doing what any responsible person in my position would do to make you all feel safer in this learning environment.” 

As much as I hate Onion, we apparently share the same views on restricting guns and gun laws. Not sure how I feel about that. 

He then smiled as the USSS opened the door behind him. “Thank you all, and Chris, remember our talk, ok?” 

The ‘President D-bag’ talk? That was not really a life lesson, it was just a thing that happened.

Also, Onion should be called President D-bag.

Chris remained speechless as the President walked out.

I relate.

Mr. Hanson then stood up while looking at Chris as if he had just slapped Mr. Hanson’s mother right in front of him. Mr. Hanson maintained his glare as he walked to the front of class.

Uh, I mean, he’d probably get a stern talking to. Even the idiots I went to high school were a bit less fucking brazen than calling the POTUS a douchebag. 

Mr. Hanson sighed deeply and looked down at the floor, he then asked, “Did anyone else almost pass out?” 

No, just you.

The class erupted with laughter as the teacher wiped sweat from his forehead with the towel he used as a white board eraser. The towel smeared ink all over his forehead, which made us all laugh even harder. Unfortunately I was faced with the reality that he would blame his humiliation on me if I did not tell him right away, as my next period still required I act as a Teachers’ Assistant for him.

Why the fuck would be blame James for that? James didn’t do anything.

The first thing Abbi said to me when I met with her later that day in gym class was “So it looks like Mrs. Stanley’s getting a new desk.”

 I replied “The president?” 

“Yep, he met with you guys too?”

I nodded and she added “In other news, Jason has been hitting on me, not sure what to do about it.” 

Tell him to stop? I mean, easier said than done, but you could try that. Or you could break his arms, whichever comes first.

I replied concerned “Like just flirting, or is it heavy?” 

She answered, “I think the whole saving our lives thing went to his head. He just grabbed my butt in class after the President left the room.”

 I went silent.

Trying to reassure me she said “I yelled at him not do it again.”

Uh, good. Holy fuck. What a tool. 

 I replied, “Did you talk to the teacher?” 

She answered “Mrs. Stanley saw I was uncomfortable and said she would give him detention if he tried to do it again.” 

No, give him detention immediately, he fucking groped someone. Hell, suspend him.

I loved that she did everything I would have done, leaving no room for me to imagine potential alternatives to what she felt about Jason’s chauvinistic act.

She isn’t helpless without you, James. Fun fact, women are autonomous beings who can care for themselves. We’re cool like that.

 I smiled slightly and said “Well, thank you for telling me...” 

She interrupted “What about you? Any girls grabbing your butt these days?”

Interesting topic of conversation. I, too bond with my nonexistent significant other over ass grabbing. 

I replied with a slight smile, “Nope, guess my butt just isn’t as good looking as yours.” She squealed and hugged me

Why is that her response?

as the substitute walked in and blew his whistle.

Oh I forgot they were in gym class.

“All right everyone let’s play some badminton!” the sub said, pronouncing everything as it was spelled. 

Raymon responded “Don’t you mean bad-mitten?”

No.

Oh god, did he not read this out loud?

Badminton is often pronounced more like bad-mitten when spoken out loud, so—Why would the sub say it like that? You know what, nevermind.

Jesus Christ, these attempted jokes are exhausting.

 The teacher replied “I didn’t Ray-man, is that ok with you?” 

Now angered, he responded, “It’s Ray-mon!” 

This is aggressively stupid.

The sub laughed and said “Alright everyone, do you want to see Ray-man vs. your sub in bad-min-ton?”

 A lot of us screamed “Yeah!” and so the game ensued.

Raymon seemed to get hit with the birdie more than the actual racket did. We kept laughing because he was trying so hard to look cool but kept failing repeatedly and as a result, looked completely goofy.

I’m actually decent at badminton, and it’s honestly not very hard, so this guy is apparently just really uncoordinated. 

After the teacher had scored on him for the 10th time Raymon threw down his racket.

 The teacher loudly asked, “So is that game? No more bad-min-ton?”

 Trying to sound tough Raymon screamed, “This is a sissy game anyway!” 

Shut your face.

Someone watching yelled to everyone “Uh oh watch out he might try to shoot us too!” 

Who the fuck would say that?

Why the fuck would you say that?

Like, holy fuck that is not okay on every level.

We all went silent; one girl jumped up and walked off in a hurry. I could see she was holding her cries in until she could get out of the room.

A valid response, Jesus Christ. The insensitive asshole who said the deserves a kick to the teeth.

Raymon angrily looked over at the person who made the comment. The individual who yelled put their head down.

In what fucking world would it be okay to make a joke like that after something like this happened? In the place it happened?

This person would be suspended. They’d be in huge trouble. Jesus Christ I hate this book more than any book I’ve ever read. This makes Blood Raining Night look like fucking Shakespeare. I had more fun reading My Immortal than I have had reading a single letter of this drivel. At least My Immortal doesn’t rely on shock and outrage to forward its (dubious) storyline, it’s just pure insanity. But at least it’s fun insanity.

This is just nihilistic, pretentious insanity.

They were obviously trying to avoid being pierced by Raymon’s glare. Raymon then furiously walked off, throwing a tantrum by kicking a garbage can while pulling off his shirt as he passed through the boys’ locker room entrance.

A VALID FUCKING RESPONSE.

“Alright everyone, pick a partner and start playing!” the teacher said just before following Raymon into the locker room.

Honestly, I’d worry if he was okay. In no way was the shooting Raymon’s fault, and I cannot fathom why that person said that to him. That last section was wholly unnecessary.

Naturally Abbi was on my team and we played against a couple of people who were equally unenthusiastic about the sport so we basically just stood around talking about how dorky our uniforms were and basically anything we could to keep our minds preoccupied.

Usually not what I talked about while playing badminton in high school PE, but to each their own, I suppose.

Later that night at dinner, we had to put together a makeshift chair for Rick as Abbi was still staying with us. 

A makeshift chair??? What would that even look like? A bunch of pots stacked on top of each other? A stump cut from the back yard? Do they not have like, a folding chair or even a stool? Why the hell does he get a makeshift chair?

My mom began to talk about their move “So Rick let me know he’s happy to help cover your food, utilities etcetera while you stay here in the condo.” she said, Abbi and I looked at each other happily and hugged excited that it was confirmed. Abbi and I didn’t have to move anywhere.

Okay, let me get this straight. 

James’ mom is just completely fine with her teenaged son living with his also teenaged girlfriend in a condo, alone, and is just chill with having her rich boyfriend who she has been dating for not nearly long enough pay for food and utilities? And said rich boyfriend is also fine with doing this?

She’s just… fine with this? In what goddamn world would any parent allow that? She deserves to have CPS called on her.

I’m going to walk into the goddamn ocean if this is just an excuse to get rid of adult supervision so these two idiots can have copious amounts of sex that I will then have to read with my two eyes.

My mom continued, “Your sister is going to come with us.” 

I looked at my sister and asked, “What’s up sis?” 

She just pushed food around on her plate and mumbled, “It’s whatever. I don’t want to talk about it.” 

My mom gave me a look that I should just drop it, so I did.

Okay, why though? If we’re going by this logic, why isn’t his sister staying behind with them? She goes to the same school and is half way through her senior year, it would be stupid to rip her away from school so close to graduation.

 I had a friend in high school whose father got a new job that sent the family to Hawaii, but she wanted to stay and finish high school, so she stayed with a friend for the school year. But the difference there is that she was staying with adults instead of alone in a house her parents paid for. She was a minor, and not an emancipated one, so she had to stay with a guardian by law. This whole thing makes absolutely zero fucking sense.

Abbi squeezed my hand; she was still smiling widely at me. I was pretty overwhelmed with what this all meant as well. One of the greatest pending burdens hovering over my head had been removed from my life completely. However ridiculous it sounds, knowing I could be separated from Abbi, to me, was the equivalent of a doctor telling me I might have cancer, only to reveal later, it was nothing. I felt like I was getting my life back, without ever really having it taken away in the first place.

Okay. I can put up with a lot without getting utterly furious, but that pisses me off. You do not get to compare almost having to move away from your girlfriend to a possible diagnosis of cancer. My mother just recently beat cancer, and the effect that this diagnosis had on my family when it was given was earth shattering. It was not even comparable to having to move away from a significant other. It was one of the hardest, most terrifying periods my family has ever been through, and it traumatized my sister, effecting her in ways that it didn’t affect me or my father. It was horrifying, all of it, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

Onion​ is an insensitive dickweed, and the fact that this comparison was even made is insulting. Having to leave a significant other is sad, sure, but it is not on the same level as a life changing diagnosis like fucking cancer. Don’t you dare make that comparison, you fucking ingrate.

Onision, fuck you. I hope you choke on your next meal, wherever you are. 

Back to this stupid fucking trash book.

After dinner, Abbi and I cuddled in bed while listening to some of her favorite bands. She would sing along to the songs, knowing most the words, as I just kept my eyes closed, paying close attention to how her skin felt pressed against mine.

In that room alone with her, I often found myself feeling like nothing else mattered. She gave all my senses something to devour to the point where I began to feel like the rest of the world barely existed at all.

The level of obsession James has with her is not healthy. A person’s life should not merely revolve around their partner. At least, nobody mentally well and stable.

I fell asleep listening to the sound of her beautiful voice, softly singing.

Great. I love that this book has inspired rage among the bottomless void of utter apathy that I’ve been feeling thus far. Makes for an amazing and totally not draining reading experience. 

Now, I have come to a very obvious conclusion. Onision, Greg, whatever you call yourself nowadays, I frankly don’t care. I don’t know if he’ll ever see this, and I don’t care about that either, because interacting with him sounds like an exhausting waste of time, but I need to say this anyway. 

Onision Gregory James Jackson cannot write. He cannot create interesting characters or stories, and he uses topics that need to be handled with respect and care as plot devices. Abhorrently, he uses horrible, traumatic events as some sick form of character development, but these events that are supposed to cause character development cause none of the aforementioned at all. All of these characters are more static than a broken television, and have the same amount of flavor as a single slice of white bread. I also hate all of them. He has been given every opportunity to improve, but refuses criticism, one of the main things that helps a writer grow. I value criticism above all else as a writer, and without it and the practice at my craft, I would not be where I am today.

Also, Greggy-poo, if you do see this, you can’t get this review taken down. You can’t do shit. Because this is transformative content since it’s commentary. I am adding my own insight into this, and making it into something new, and it is therefore protected by fair use. And I’ll just keep on posting. 

Whatever. I’ll see you later.

—Kat

[selfcarecap]

73 Questions

Thanks for the tag @kenniteaa and @silkholland 🫶💖

Hello Vogue !

on a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now? 6-7 I feel like stuff is actually going well for me for once and like I’m actively trying to make my life better

describe yourself in a hashtag? #crybaby

if you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be? Andrew Garfield maybe

if your life was a musical, what would the marquee say? Idk what a marquee is the only musical I know is hsm

what’s one thing people don’t know about you? that i write fanfic

what’s your wake up ritual? Sleep as long as possible, go take my morning **** (no one’s reading this anyway), brush my teeth, put on clothes and go to uni

what’s your go to bed ritual? Take a melatonin gummybear, brush my teeth (actually usually i brush my teeth and then remember the melatonin), complete any fanfic ideas that i put into my notes app and couldn’t completely write down when i got the idea, then i 👀, and sleep

what’s your favorite time of day? Depends on what I’m doing the next day but I’d say evening/night

your go to for having a good laugh? TikTok

dream country to visit? Japan would be cool but also maybe some Scandinavian country or Iceland or something warm with a beach <3

what’s the biggest surprise you’ve ever had? I can’t think of anything rn lmao

heels or flats/sneakers? Sneakers but platform ones/platform boots

vintage or new? New

who do you want to write your obituary? Idc lmao but ig just not someone who hates me

style icon? Some girls off tiktok tbh

what are three things you cannot live without? Music, writing, my friends/family (I consider true friends family so that counts as one)

what’s one ingredient you put in everything? Ig salt or onion

what 3 people living or dead would you want to make dinner for? First of all I don’t. But Chris Evans, Jon Bernthal and Andrew Garfield cause I think a night with them would be fun👀

what’s your biggest fear in life? Never getting over/learning how to deal w my anxiety

window or aisle seat? Window for short flight, aisle for a long one

what’s your current tv obsession? Love death and robots and himym

favorite app? Tumblr or my notes app

secret talent? I’ve never had an answer to this idk. I guess most people in my life don’t know that I write so maybe that? Idk if I’d say I’m super talented at it tho, oh or maybe a german accent (when speaking english) but it would be weird if i couldn’t do one bc it’s my first language lol but i don’t naturally have a german accent but i can intentionally do one very very well

most adventurous thing you’ve ever done in your life? I’m sure I’ve done some adventurous things but I can’t think of anything rn shsjk actually maybe having an org*sm in semi(okay, quarter lol)-public situations (okay not really public but like outside)

how would you define yourself in three words? Kind, sensitive, cute

favorite piece of clothing you own? Black buffalo platform boots but they broke after three years 🥲

a must have clothing item that everyone should have? Good quality black oversized hoodie

a superpower you would want? Flying

what’s inspiring you in life right now? The fact that it kind of feels like I’m on my way to actually being happy possibly for a bit

best piece of advice you’ve received? It’s nothing specific but like.. nothing matters? But not in a nihilistic way (i wouldn’t mind that tho) more in a don’t overthink life way idk i kind of forced this answer out of me dhsjsj

best advice you’d give your teenage self? It’ll be okay & enjoy the journey

a book everyone should read? Women don’t owe you pretty by Florence Given

what would you like to be remembered for? My kindness

how do you define beauty? I don’t think I have a definition, it’s just a feeling. and if we’re talking about beauty in people then it’s also all just dependent on how they make you feel

what do you love most about your body? My brain and my heart lool but also my eyes, my legs, my boobs, my 🐱 dhsjjs

best way to take a rest/decompress? Go out into nature and breathe some fresh air (unless it’s hot cause then I’ll want to die)

favorite place to view art? A museum probably..

if your life was a song, what would the title be? Whatever the song is where Beyonce says my aspiration in life would be to be happy (ik they want me to make a title up myself but idk)

if you could master one instrument, what would it be? Piano

if you had a tattoo, where would it be? All over my arms and maybe a big back piece

dolphins or koalas? Umm dolphins ig?

what’s your spirit animal? I really don’t know

best gift you’ve ever received? A photo album my cousin made for me

best gift you’ve given? A picture I painted of me and my cousin but i actually think i’m a good gift giver like there are loads of things

what’s your favorite board game? I don’t think I can play it anymore but when I was like 10 I really got into chess?

what’s your favorite color? Pink

least favorite color? Somehow I don’t really like red (but it’s def not my least fav colour but that’s the only thing i can think about.. actually noo red is pretty but idk)

diamond or pearls? Diamonds

drugstore makeup or designer? Fenty for lipgloss but other than that mainly drugstore

blow-dry or air-dry? Air-dry

pilates or yoga? Yoga but I was never quite sure what pilates is

coffee or tea? Tea

what’s the weirdest word in the english language? Betrothed

dark chocolate or milk chocolate? Milk

stairs or elevators? Stairs even though they kill me every time 😭 (but that’s exactly why i choose them)

summer or winter? Winter forever ❄️

you are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat? Pasta orrr Schnitzel (I don’t think there is any food that I would want on its own tho)

a dessert you don’t like? I don’t like fruit cake

a skill you’re working on mastering? (Fiction) Writing and like literary analysis lmaoo

best thing to happen to you today? I feel asleep quickly (that was after midnight so I’m counting it as today)

worst thing to happen to you today? I accidentally slept til 1 pm :/

best compliment you’ve ever received? ‘I love your weirdness. It’s so extraordinary and that’s what I love about it.’ and also loads of stuff about my writing, mainly when people have said i’m their fav writer or my fic is their fav fic

favorite smell? Chlorine and also my skin? Sgsjaka

hugs or kisses? Hugssss

if you made a documentary, would it be about? Feminism and the effect of gender in german language (i think i’m thinking more of a bachelor thesis than a documentary but anyway)

last piece of content you consumed that made you cry? I mean probably just random sad/super happy and kind stuff on Instagram or something but either an episode of love death and robots or himym

lipstick or lipgloss? Glosss

sweet or savory? Sweet

girl crush?  Like.. all women ever?

how do you know you’re in love? You just do ykwim likee if you have to ask yourself if you are then you’re not and if you are in love you just know

a song you can listen to on repeat? Ladbroke Grove lol or Stay (Michael Schulte— or Mac Miller lol), most (not too recent) Nicki songs

if you could switch lives with someone for a day, who would it be? Future me (unless that ends up affecting the timeline lol but yeah future me at a time where everything is okay <3)

what are you most excited for about this time in your life? Looking forward to going to the beach sometime in August hopefully

No pressure tags: @t-lostinworlds @aniqua @asonofpeter why is my brain absolutely empty lmaooo anyone who wants to do this just say i tagged you and i will tag you (and pls make your own post thank you mwah)

[odetojeons]

Until It Feels Like You’re In Heaven — Jeon Wonwoo

request:  Hello do you still take requests? Your writing is amazingggg!! Thank you for existing 😭💕. Can i req a whipped dom!wonwoo x fem reader where he has a size kink and a smol gf please? I think that will be a cute concept 🥺

tags: fem and sub!reader, dom!wonwoo, size kink, tattoed and pierced jeon wonwoo just because, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (uh idk why but I never write sex with a condom help), established wonwoo x reader, a tiiiny bit of spitting kink, very light verbal humiliation, aftercare, this goes from fluff to horny really quickly, fluff if you squint (or not?), a frankly unrealistic amount of cum, OH AND, stomach bulge 🥴

a/n: so haha I am back? with more filth? I tried adding fluff (even tho I completely forgot that the person who made the request asked for whipped wonwoo, good thing this is always in my agenda every time I write so I didn't have any problems lmfao) but I'm too much of a horny bitch and a simp for this man so,, idk? tell me what you think later! I hope you all perish— I mean, like this!

Word Count: 7826

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ “Aren’t you going to help?” you question, lifting a brow at your boyfriend, who’s currently sitting in one of the chairs and supporting his chin with the palm of his hand, plate of onions that should be already cut laying untouched in front of him.

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“Nope,” Wonwoo answers, giving you that kind of smile which makes you almost, almost feel less annoyed at the fact that you’ve been trying to reach something in the upper shelves for the last five minutes and he doesn’t move his ass to help you at all. “You’re just too cute trying to reach something.”

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There’s heat creeping up your neck, cheeks tinting red, and Wonwoo's smile gets bigger, shining and full of fondness. It leaves you stunned in silence for a while. It’s hard not to be in love with him. But it’s not like you try anyways.

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“J-just hurry up, aren’t you hungry?” you cough, looking away solely because you can’t stand the warmness in Wonwoo’s face without feeling like you’re going to combust any time soon.

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“I am. I can help you out,” he states simply, but doesn’t make a move. You gesticulate with your hand, pointing at him and at the rice jar in the upper shelf. “But only if you say please, though.”

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“I’m—” laughing incredulously, you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “Would you please get the rice jar for me, sir?”

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Wonwoo stares at you for a second too long, eyes a bit dark, and gets up to get the jar, without breaking eye contact. You instinctively make yourself smaller when his bigger and broader frame hovers over you, large enough to swallow your tiny body. The size difference has always been something you both feel incredibly turned on by.

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“So small,” he appreciates, always does, and your neck burns from the intensity of your blushing. “The cutest.”

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Wonwoo puts the rice jar in your hands, the darkness in his face melting into a beam.

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“Here it goes, little girl,” he says, going back to his chair to complete the task which he has been doing for at least ten minutes now. The way he says little girl has you dumbfounded, heart hammering against your chest. “Are you just going to stand there? Do you like being called little that much?”

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“Shut up,” you admonish, blushing furiously as you turn on your back to continue what you were doing.  You just hate how everything Wonwoo does affects you so much. You’re sure this must be bad for your health.

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The two of you continue your journey through cooking and eating after you’re both done with the preparations. Things with Wonwoo are always so easy, everything feels natural and domestic and the bubbling feeling of happiness you feel whenever you’re with him lulls you to fall in love with him even deeper than before.

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The way he teases you when you’re clumsy and spill sauce over yourself, but still cleans you up with the most fond smile ever, like you’re so completely adorable he can’t help himself. Or when you put more salt in the food than you should and you know it’s not that good, but he still compliments it and tells you he loves it so much, the sincerity in his eyes makes a surge of something pull at your lower stomach.

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If Jeon Wonwoo isn’t the love of your life, you don’t know who is.

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But right now you just want the ground to eat you alive and swallow you whole, because you’re standing right in front of the bed. The one bed. To which it suddenly doesn’t look big enough, not as you remember.

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Well, it’s not like you have never shared a bed before, you have even had a shit ton of sex in this exact piece of mattress, but the thing is, it’s been a while since you last saw Wonwoo. His job required him to spend three months away, and this is the first time you came to his house ever since he came back two days ago.

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You consider throwing yourself out of the window and into the dark, miserable night, thinks your poor heart will explode otherwise.

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“I’m not going to eat you.” Wonwoo’s voice carries over from the bathroom door, startling you into action. You jerk toward the bed, jumping on it and face flushing. You had showered before him, now dressed with one of his big shirts.

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It fell all the way to your mid thigh, the size difference between the two of you making you almost drown on the fabric of his clothes. It smells nice, smells like Wonwoo, and your cheeks burn when he drinks the sight of you in with dark eyes, not even trying to hide.

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“Unless you want me to,” he adds, not helping your situation at all.

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BSHANDJAJSND?, your brain supplies.

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“Oh my god,” you admonish, yanking the blanket off the bed and just as you get in, your eyes hone in on the ink swirling up Wonwoo’s right biceps. You have seen the tattoo through the pictures he sent you before, the snake crawling up to his shoulder, head stopping at his right chest.

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This is, however, the first time you’ve seen the metal bar through one of Wonwoo’s nipples — to which you already knew the existence of, but looking in person is totally different —, heat winding in the pit of your belly as you realize the snake is looking right at that same nipple. Unfortunately for your poor heart, he’s wearing nothing but a pair of sweats, hanging low on his hips, slim waist on display.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo is… hot.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s no other way to put it despite your best efforts. He looks like one of those Greek statues, rippling muscle and hand carved abs, the cut of his jaw too sharp to be real. Your mouth waters and you can’t look away.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And Wonwoo has been changing. He always had the thin type of body, being slim and tall, but in the end of last year he started exchanging the lazy hours he spent gaming with animated workouts at the gym — something about the way he was wasting his precious time of life and he could be acquiring knowledge and being healthy instead of sitting in front of a computer for hours —, and holy fuck if the result wasn’t quite the damn view.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You draw the blanket right up to your chin, back very purposefully to Wonwoo’s side of the bed as you’re still trying to stop the mild heart attack you have going on. You don’t want to see him climbing into bed for safety purposes but that doesn’t mean your heart rate doesn’t spike up when the bed dips. When Wonwoo settles down under the same blanket, your brain very enthusiastically — and meaningfully — points out that you’re only a few centimeters away and that there’s nothing separating you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

His abs flash behind your eyes and you nearly throw the blanket off, ready to storm out of the room and sleep on the sofa instead. You let out a breath you don’t even know you’re holding when Wonwoo flicks the flight off, the room disappearing into darkness, before he turns on the red leds from under his bed.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You feel warm all over with the fact that he still remembers you don’t like sleeping in complete darkness.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ���

You try not to tense too much when he drapes an arm around your waist, locking you in. Your legs tangle together as he adjusts himself better, the other arm coming behind your head to serve as a pillow. Now you’re not only dying from the closeness but as well essentially drooling over the bulge of his thick biceps.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Congratulations universe for managing to make you even more desperate.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You’re not sure how long you just lie there, staring out the window, unable to fall asleep. Your brain doesn’t want to shut off, a blaring alarm of Jeon Wonwoo going off in your head.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I missed you so much,” Wonwoo says as if he read your thoughts, voice soft and filled with warmth, and you find yourself immediately melting in his arms despite your nervousness. “Thought I was going crazy without you, munchkin.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s a hard squeeze in your heart. You just love so much when he calls you that.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Missed you too,” you admit with a smile, the tip of Wonwoo’s nose dragging through your hair as he inhales the smell of his own shampoo. “Missed your smell.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Just my smell?” Wonwoo teases with a light tone, caressing his free hand on your inner thigh. It was supposed to be a feather-like gesture, but the closeness between the two of you made your body oversensitive, and you find yourself moaning softly as your skin rocks with a shiver.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo tenses immediately when he hears the sound, hand stuttering to a stop. There’s a beat of what you call the most painful silence you ever had — your mind swirls with the thought that you just ruined the mood, face heating up uncontrollably at your own neediness —, before his fingers sink into the flesh of your inner thigh, startling you with the strength behind his grip.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Answer me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀

You whine louder this time, the realization of his change of tone going from fond to an irrevocable order sinking wanton deep within your lower stomach. You try to close your legs, but Wonwoo’s leg stops you where it rests right in the middle of them, dangerously close to your throbbing core. You wonder if he could feel the heat emanating from it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“N-no,” you begin, voice already shaken up. Wonwoo’s breath caresses the helix of your ear, making goosebumps surge all over your skin. “Missed y-your bed too.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Is that so?” he hums, chest vibrating where it presses against your back. “What else, munchkin?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Missed—” your voice gets caught up in your throat when he licks your helix, teeth pulling the lobe of your ear. The soft drag of his lips all over that place is making your job difficult. “M-missed all of you, hmmm.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo hums again, pleased with your answer, and leans so close to you your body gets half pinned to the bed. This way his bigger frame completely engulfs your smaller one, the difference between your sizes getting even more overwhelming now that he’s bulked up.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And you’re not the only one affected by it, because as soon as Wonwoo realizes how he almost swallows you up in this position, he downright moans right by your ear.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So fucking small,” he tells you appreciatevely, voice one octave lower as his fingers presses on your inner thigh harder. “Missed touching you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s a shift in Wonwoo, his leg rising up between yours and stopping centimeters away from the heat of your cunt, and you can’t hold back the shiver, wants Wonwoo to press down there. When you attempt to slide Wonwoo’s hand up and off of you so then you could turn around, you’re met with a growl instead, Wonwoo bodily pinning you to the bed.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, and it makes you feel like you’re a prey just ready to be caught by the big, bad wolf. You whine softly at that thought, hand coming to grab at Wonwoo’s wrist reflexively.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” is your answer, like that would explain everything. Wonwoo chuckles softly, embarrassment burning on your cheeks.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“When we called and I saw your face,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I wanted to fuck you so bad.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Suddenly, you can’t remember how to breathe, Wonwoo’s mouth on your neck, planting a soft kiss just under your ear. He nuzzles into the same spot, kisses lower and your heart shakes loud enough you think the neighbors might hear, hyperaware of every inch of your bodies touching.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I know I couldn’t, so I did it all from behind,” Wonwoo admits, sending your mind into a little haze. Of course he has been jerking off to the thought of you, but hearing him say it out loud has your panties getting soaked. “Sticking my dick in…”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo hasn’t stopped nuzzling you, in some kind of daze as he inhales your scent. There’s a hand on your hip now, holding you down, liquid heat pooling in your belly, spreading outward.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“…and fucking you mercilessly…” he continues, voice getting deeper and rougher with each word, his breath labored. “…and watching you cum endlessly… I thought I would be fine just imagining it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-Won—” you start, breathless, the sound of your own voice sounding so airy leaving you embarrassed. But then finally, finally he presses his thigh into your core, your hips immediately going down to rut hard against the muscle.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fucking drenched,” Wonwoo snarls lowly when he feels the wetness of your soaked panties dirtying the fabric of his sweatpants.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The sound makes you writhe on the bed, fists balling in the mattress.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“But seeing you, so small…” the trace of Wonwoo’s hand in your skin is light, almost like a gentle whisper as it makes a burning path up, up, up until it stops by your neck, fingers closing softly around your throat. “Makes me want to rail you, carve the shape of my big cock inside your walls.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s teeth sink into the skin just at the base of your neck. It’s hardly a bite, you know he could leave worse, but then Wonwoo laps at it afterwards, tender, surrenders you into moving your hips obscenely on his thigh. The way he says, knows his cock is big has heat licking your insides, and if it were anyone else saying the same thing you would be cringed, but there’s just something special about Jeon Wonwoo doing this that makes him look like the hottest man alive.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re addicting,” Wonwoo admits with a growl, the feeling of his touch turning possessive as he helps you ride his thigh better by a hand on your waist. “Once I get a taste I can’t stop myself from wanting more. Wanna have my way with you until you’re all mine.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Need seeps through your bones, body trembling as you try to scatter the air it has been knocked out of your lungs when Wonwoo fits his cock in the curve of your ass.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-you’re hard,” you comment, as if it’s not obvious, but it has been so long since the last time you felt his bulge pressing against you that it makes you desperate. “You’re so hard.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Who’s fault do you think it is?” Wonwoo questions, groaning when you sway your hips from side to side on his cock.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Can we…” you trail off, hiding your face in the pillow. “Y-you know?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Nope, you gotta be more specific,” he says with a teasing smile, and you smack him in the arm. Wonwoo laughs before his voice gets serious. “Say it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

This switch of him turning on and off between a sweet boyfriend to the man who doms you never fails to give you a whiplash.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Can we— Can w-we fuck?” you ask shyly, wanting the ground to swallow you whole. You have no idea why you are being this shy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hmm, it depends,” Wonwoo hums like he’s considering the options. You turn to look at him, mortified, but he only laughs at your indignation. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You blush furiously at the question, face turning to look away as you mumble a yes, but then Wonwoo’s grabbing at your jaw and yanking your head back in place until you’re staring right in the deepness of his eyes, the intensity of them stunting you into complete silence.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he orders, leaving no room for arguments, and you nod your head quickly at that. “Out loud.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-yes,” you hurry to obey, watching satisfaction curl all over his face. “‘M always a good girl.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I don’t think so, munchkin,” Wonwoo grins, wicked and teasing, and you brace yourself for whatever is going to happen this night. “Sometimes you’re so desperate and impatient you can’t even wait for me before fucking yourself with those plastic toys of yours.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” and you’re unable to look away even when shame burns all over your body. “H-how did you—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“How did I know?” your sentence morphs into a moan when Wonwoo presses his thigh so hard against you cunt it has your body jumping a little. “You think I wouldn’t feel how you’re more loose when I fucked you? You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo is mercilessly dragging your hips up and down his leg, your whines sounding high and sweet in your own ears.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re oblivious even to yourself,” he tells you, tone rough as he ruts against your ass. Your heart lurches in your chest, Wonwoo’s words like a hot coal in the pit of your belly, erupting into flames. You want to squeeze your eyes shut, cunt pulsing with arousal. “Even today, the way you were staring at me…”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But then, Wonwoo’s touch is gone. His hands leave your hips, thigh frees you from the pressure, and the warmth seems so far now. You turn, complaint already at the tip of your tongue, but Wonwoo’s faster, rougher as he manhandles you on your back and hovers over your body, caging you in with his arms.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You looked like a prey who has just been caught into the wolf’s den,” he smiles at you, wicked and cruel as he grabs your jaw and pushes your head back. “Like you wanted me to break you in until it feels like you’re in heaven.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s a breath against your bare neck, his groan hitting your skin when he bites it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Or eat you up until there’s nothing left in you that doesn’t belong to me,” you’re definitely not expecting the moan that escapes Wonwoo’s mouth, so affected and deep it’s got all the hairs in your nape standing up, every fiber of your body telling you to submit. “Fuck, and it turns me on so much.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You make a sound out of neediness, hands reaching for Wonwoo. He goes easily, body pressing into yours as he crashes your lips together. Wonwoo kisses you like he wants to conquer you, licking into the seam of your mouth and teeth scraping at your bottom lip just so he could soothe the pain later with his tongue. Your head spins with the intensity of it, it’s messy and there’s too much spit and teeth, but that only makes it even more addicting.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But Wonwoo doesn’t kiss you enough today. He almost never does when he’s feeling like that — possessive, mean, wicked even, when he needs you to know your damn place —, wants to ebb the pleasure away when you’re starting to get hotter until it’s replaced by pure desperation and you can’t do anything else other than beg for him to give in to you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

So that’s what you do, staring up at his eyes trained on you as if you’re a prey.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Please,” you start, voice caught into a moan when Wonwoo’s fingers sink into your jaw and his mouth falls ajar, like the sound of you saying this particular word gives a physical stroke to his cock. “P-please, fuck me. Wanna— Wanna belong t-to you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And that’s enough. That’s enough, that’s enough, Wonwoo wants, you want, and he’ll give that to you since he has always been a weak man for your begging. There’s a fraction of seconds that he thinks he might pass out with all the blood rushing from his head to his other head, cock throbbing in his sweatpants.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Don’t know how so much eagerness fits into this little body of yours,” Wonwoo murmurs against your mouth, his hand squeezing your face. You find yourself parting your mouth open, whining, pliant and overwhelmed as Wonwoo slips his tongue in again, kissing you filthy. The scent of his familiar cologne is so sharp, surrounding you and leaving your mind dazed until all you can think is Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo. When he pulls back this time, Wonwoo pushes his thumb into your mouth, eyes half-lidded as he watches you swirl your tongue around it, sucking it further into your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan around it, watching Wonwoo’s every reaction, the way his breath hitches, shoulders tensing. There’s a shift on the bed, Wonwoo moving up and up and up and you can’t breathe because now the bulge pressing against the fabric of his clothes is standing proudly right in front of your face, Wonwoo almost straddling your chest. You let the realization that he’s going to fuck your mouth sink deep within your core, and try not to show how deeply affected you are by the idea.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You fail, of course, hips lifting off of the bed and falling down again, biting around the finger inside of your mouth that keeps you from taking a better look in the place you are dying to see.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“That desperate to suck me off, baby?” Wonwoo asks, and you flush, hate how you love the humiliated burn, how it makes you wetter. You’re too embarrassed to throw something back at Wonwoo, gaze dropping to his erect cock the best you can. He pushes your head back up, making you look at him instead. “Do you wanna see it?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I do,” you reply, a little too fast for your own good, and it only serves for Wonwoo to laugh at your neediness. You debate if you’re as red as you think you are, the burn in your cheeks spreading all the way down to your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Wonwoo’s tone is almost condescending, still playful, like he doesn’t think you can even handle the sight of his cock, and you like how it makes your cunt twitch and ache. It’s as if you enjoy the belittlement, enjoy the way Wonwoo wants you to prove yourself.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’m,” you start, swallowing, “I’m ready.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s smile is a touch dark, nearly a sneer, but his hand leaves your mouth to hook a thumb in the waistband of his pants. You nearly drool. He pulls on the fabric until his cock is free, slapping against your left cheek and smearing precum on your face. Your head spins, realising that even this part of Wonwoo’s body seemed to have grown bigger. Maybe it’s your imagination, haven’t actually seen it in real life for the past three months, but the thickness is intimidating.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The best intimidating possible.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your heart thuds in your chest, unable to look away from his cock. There’s spit collecting on your tongue, embarrassment fighting against your desire to please. Leaning forward, you suckle the tip into your mouth, making a pleased sound when you taste the salty tang of precum.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo leans back a bit, wanting to assess your face better, and the taut lines of his body contorts in an even hotter way with the new position. You moan again, staring at the piercing in Wonwoo’s nipple and the head of the inked snake looking at it, and sucks on the head, tongue pushing along the underside. Your body throbs with your own heated desire.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You wrap a hand around the base, gut twisting hotly when you realise you can’t even get your fingers all the way around — no matter how many times you notice this, they all make you feel equally needy. And you’re not the only one affected by it, Wonwoo’s hips kicking forward and cock thrusting inside of your mouth, the growl he lets out going straight to your core.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck,” he says, breath audible enough to echo inside the room. “I will ruin you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The confession has your body arching for a few seconds, sucking hard on the tip of Wonwoo’s cock until he’s moaning at the feeling. He takes a fistful of your hair, but you push against the hold so you could take more of it into your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Quit it,” Wonwoo demands, your displeased whine making his hold grow firmer. “Do as you’re told or you might not get my cock at all tonight.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He pulls you off, your pants loud and labored.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did I make myself clear?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yes, sir,” you add just for the teasing — but mostly because you want Wonwoo to punish you for making him lose his beloved control —, feeling pleased as you watch the clear change of expressions going on in Wonwoo’s face. His eyes darken impossibly more, eyebrows frowning and then there’s a hand on your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your mouth goes dry as soon as his fingers close around your throat, body writhing and mind going into submission mode.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Filthy little slut,” Wonwoo snarls, face suddenly close, and then he’s spitting into your open mouth and you feel like you will come very soon. You flinch, eyes shutting on reflex, and then moan. “Want me to punish you, don’t you?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You don’t say anything, can’t say anything, but you hope the look in your eyes answers his question. It probably does, because there’s a tiny little smirk playing on the edge of Wonwoo’s lips before he kisses you, softer than you could ever imagine he would be in this moment.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you,” he breathes, the sudden confession making a different kind of burn itch your throat. You know very well that when Wonwoo tells you that I’m the middle of sex then it’s because this will be a passionate fucking. One of those that he keeps your body so close you think you might become one with him, one of those he kisses you so gently one moment only to treat you roughly in the other, one of those he wants to make you fall apart, crumble and cry and even so, it will be full of love and care and sweetness. “I love you so much.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo doesn’t wait for your answer. Doesn’t need to, he knows your heart belongs to him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Say ah for me, sweetheart,” Wonwoo instructs and you obey, mouth hanging open, tongue out. Wonwoo slaps his cock against it, precum dirtying your tongue as the slap slap slap of his cock hitting your mouth fills the heavy air of the room. He even traces the tip over your upper lip, smearing precum along your cheek when he slaps your face with it before placing his cock right back on your waiting tongue. “Put this mouth to better use.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You do, eager to do as you’re told after Wonwoo’s confession, blood singing from his praise and his disparagement alike. You sink down onto it as far as you can take it, nearly gagging when it hits the back of your throat. Wonwoo drowns out a broken “fuck” above you, stroking your cheek and moving further in the bed to lessen the awkward twist of your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth,” Wonwoo breathes, voice strained as you suck him off, head bobbing. He brushes your hair back, little groans and growls escaping him every time his cock hits the back of your throat, you swallowing around it, or when you speed up, fucking your mouth on Wonwoo’s length. “Such a pretty little cocksucker, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You blush, heart hammering in your chest with the compliment, but he closes a fist in your hair and makes you stop all movements.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Gonna fuck your mouth,” Wonwoo starts, holding your wrist with his free hand and putting your fingers above his thigh. You know that it means if you want me to stop, tap twice, and it makes heat coil in your belly. “until you gag.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan a bit uncontrollably around his cock, legs kicking in the bed at the affirmation, and Wonwoo is staring at you with a look you can’t quite describe. It makes you ashamed of being so eager but at the same time proud of being his little cockslut.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo holds you in place, hips bucking into your mouth. He goes slow at first, wanting you to get used with the feeling because it has been a while since the last time you sucked him off. It is short lived, as soon as you look up at him and nod — the best you could with your movements being kind of restricted —, his thrusts turn sharp and fast, your jaw aching from how long you had Wonwoo’s fat cock in your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan, one of your hands still working up and down along Wonwoo’s shaft as he fucks into you, tears beginning to prickle at the corners of your eyes. He falls a bit forward when you start gagging a little, throat convulsing around his thickness, and he sprawls his fingers in the wall for support.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck fuck fuck, shit,” Wonwoo breathes, voice gravelly, his grip in your hair getting tighter and tighter. Tingles spark down your spine, wetness pouring out of you and soaking your panties even more and you want so desperately to come, to be fucked, but you want to please him first.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s thrusts begin to turn erratic as he fucks your mouth, a growl erupting out of him on a particularly hard thrust, and then he’s pulling away. You look at him, mind in a haze, but still dumbfounded. His breath is labored and he looks like he’s having a hard time keeping together, hips thrusting into the air. It boosts your ego to see him this messed up because of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did so well for me, sweetheart,” Wonwoo tells you, voice strained from effort but still full of fondness, and you feel butterflies dancing in your stomach at the praise. It seems like he wants his orgasm to ebb away. At the look you’re giving him, he adds: “Wanna cum with you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You mewl at the thought, watching him position himself between your legs again and kissing you slowly. Wonwoo caresses your cheek with a gentle thumb, other hand tracing a feather-like path down your body. His fingers brush against your nipple, the whine you let out being swallowed by Wonwoo’s greedy mouth, and he sneaks his hand under your shirt just as his kisses fly to your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And then Wonwoo’s sucking. Hard.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It caughts you off guard, hips lifting off of the bed and thigh pressing tightly against Wonwoo’s cock, his groan being muffled by your skin. He bites, suckles and kisses the particular spot underneath your jaw, so far up your neck you won’t be able to hide it, especially because it’s summer. And you feel warm all over, how he always remembers exactly your pleasure point, the place that has your head spinning with pleasure.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your hands fly to his hair, cunt throbbing with need when he tongues at the purple hickey, and it’s throbbing, pulsating with how hard he sucked. It leaves you breathless, not having time to recover when Wonwoo pulls your shirt up until he can get one nipple into his mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwon, fuck,” you whimper, body oversensitive with all that has been going on, and Wonwoo growls at the nickname, hand coming to pinch your other nipple like he’s telling you how much this affects him. “Please—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo bites at it, tongue coming to soothe the pain later, and you’re sure the grip you have on his hair must be painful, but he says nothing; only looks more intent on making you moan. Wonwoo busies himself with sucking hickeys all over the place as one of his hands continues to descend down your body, thumb pressing in a spot by your hips that has your back arching and a desperate whine being pulled out of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Down and down, his fingers then slips inside your penties, brushing across your clit so lightly that it has your whole body rocking with shivers.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But then, Wonwoo’s body goes completely still. You feel him tensing under your palms, heat already flooding your face when you know he feels it, feels the way you’re already stretched open for him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You—” he starts but stops himself, pushing a finger inside for great measure. Wonwoo growls when he meets almost no resistance, face lifting from where it rests on your chest to look at you. “When?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The intensity of his voice leaves your mouth dry.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“E-earlier, in the— in the s-shower,” you confess, voice quiet, and you can’t look away, Wonwoo’s eyes pinning you to your spot.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hah,” he states simply, a sound of pleasant surprise, and adds another finger inside. Wonwoo pushes them to the hilt, until his knuckles brush your pelvis. You moan, head thrown back at the sudden, but welcomed intrusion. “Acting all nervous around me but this is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He gyrates his hand, pushing hard and without mercy, right before he adds another finger, this time more slowly. It burns a little, his fingers way bigger than yours, but you love the slight pain.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did you come into my house knowing I would fuck you?” Wonwoo asks, knows the answers but does it anyway. He moves his hand a little, waiting for your to be more comfortable with the sensation of his fingers, but as soon as your frown turns upside down, Wonwoo has no restrains whatsoever, fucking into you fast and sharp. “Fingered yourself knowing that I would split you open on my big cock?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You can’t even think straight, hips rising off of the bed, but Wonwoo holds your waist with his free hand and pins them down hard. Your upper body lifts with this, back arching and legs kicking everywhere as you can’t stop the loud moans slipping through your lips, doesn’t even care about the neighbors as your nails sink into Wonwoo’s back to the point it might leave tiny crescent moons all over it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did you come back then?” Wonwoo continues, pace unforgiving even when tears well up into your eyes. He trusts you to use your safeword if needed as much as you trust him to use his. “Did you?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You struggle to answer, voice being surrendered to moans and whines and whimpers and it’s hard to focus when he’s hitting your sweet spot with the tip of his fingers.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Ah! Ah, hmmm, f-fuck, please Won— Wonwon,” you try, can’t even understand how you still manage to get red when you realise Wonwoo is looking at you with so much desire. The point you both most like about your relationship is that Wonwoo is the dom, but he knows you have him in the palm of your tiny hands. “I, ah, d-din’t. Di— Didn’t want to, fuck, please— c-come without you—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo pulls his fingers out at that, your cunt clenching around nothing as he goes lighting fast to take both of your clothes off, grab your waist and flip you on your stomach just as he reaches for the nightstand to grab what you know very well it’s a bottle of lube. He pulls your hips up until you’re face down, ass up on the bed, the hurry in all of this only sending desperation all over your body, and the sound of the cap being opened has butterflies in your stomach.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah? Fuck,” Wonwoo sounds a mess, fingers hurrying to close a fist on his cock and jerk it off furiously to spread the lube better, the wet head nudging against your rim. “Fuck, shit, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Do it,” you beg. “Please.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And who is he to deny what you want?

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo pushes inside you slowly despite his hunger, knows he’s big and there’s an alarming size difference between the both of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your hands clench into fists and it feels like you’re being impaled onto Wonwoo’s cock, going deeper than any cock you ever taken before. Tears cling to your lashes as a small jolt of pain runs up your spine, the lube easing Wonwoo’s way in. Overall you’re proud of yourself, haven taken him before, more times than you can count, and you accommodate his cock like a pro.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your chest heaves, no amount of air feels like enough as Wonwoo’s cock all but punches everything out of you. You’re biting at the pillow by the time the last of it pushes into you, a haze surrounding your mind because it feels so good.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s groan transforms into a moan once he’s buried all the way into you, hips flush against your ass and spreading you open so wide and so deep, you would think you might break if you didn’t know any better. You gasp, back arching downward as you take your time to adjust to the large intrusion.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo kisses your shoulder tenderly, waiting for you to grow used to the feeling. He can be rough when it comes to bed, but he always is mindful of you no matter how impatient and desperate he is. There’s this soft feeling going on inside you, mixing with your pleasure and it only serves to make you more needy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo doesn’t move for a while, hot breath falling against your neck as he stands behind you. You feel surrounded — his scent everywhere, the pulse of the hickeys he carved on your skin, the press of his long fingers on your waist —, your submission for Wonwoo’s eyes only.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You nod at him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

A lick at your neck is all the warning you get before Wonwoo pulls out so very slowly, cock dragging against your walls and rim. It feels like forever, you whining at the sensation, and then you’re being slammed back into.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Ah!” you gasp, eyes blurry as you struggle for air. You moan as Wonwoo drags himself back out again, and thrusts right back in and groans at the feeling. “Y-yes—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So good,” Wonwoo growls, close to inhumane as he continues with that pace. “So fucking good.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Eventually, Wonwoo doesn’t seem to be able to go slow anymore, thrusts turning sharper and harder, his pace unrelenting. You find yourself almost screaming through it, so overwhelmed by the size of him — a good overwhelmed, the best overwhelmed —, but the way you feel so full and the exponential pleasure leaves you numb to any other thought.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo, your mind seems to chant, fucked open mercilessly by your boyfriend.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Taking cock like a pro, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Wonwoo says, stops for a second, adjusts his hips, and then slams back right into your sweet spot, like he knows where it is by heart. Your body lurches forward, bed slamming against the wall. Hands reaching to hold onto something, you scramble against the sheats until one of them fists it and the other holds the pillow for dear life. “You’re gonna wake the whole hall, screaming like that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You have enough of a decency to feel ashamed about it, but it’s not like neither of you actually care. If anything, Wonwoo fucks you harder, hips jamming inside you until your throat hurts from all the noises you’re making.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Please, p-please— I wanna— I h-have to— Fuck, ah!” you’re not even sure about what you’re begging for, Wonwoo pulling your hips to meet his thrusts half way. You love this, feeling like a ragdoll, being thrown around and only able to take what he gives to you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Good little girl,” Wonwoo croons, his voice rough. Your skin glistens with sweat, the shimmering red light reflecting on it. “Looking so beautiful taking my cock.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You’re not sure what compels you after he says that but you reach down, hand smoothing down your abdomen because you feel like Wonwoo is spearing you open. But you go completely tense, squeezing Wonwoo so hard he stutters with a moan, because under your palm there is the outline of his cock protruding against your lower belly. The feeling makes you so overwhelmed that you can’t hold it in, whithe pleasure flooding you as you end up coming, eyes rolling to the back of your head and you’re crying all the way through it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re coming?” Wonwoo deadpans, sounding surprised and angry at the same time. “Holy shit, you’re coming untouched and without my permission? What were you think—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s complaint immediately dies down when you bring a trembling hand to grab his wrist and put his fingers in the cause of your orgasm. There’s a beat of silence, the both of you completely still, and then Wonwoo is growling the most animalistic growl you ever heard him do, the sheer intensity of it rocking all the way to your bones. He presses his hips so tightly into yours it has you sobbing.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck,” it’s all he says, tone two octaves lower and sounding dangerous, doesn’t even have it in him to punish you. “Fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It’s like the caged beast he keeps so carefully locked deep within himself started to surface. Wonwoo pushes your head down on the mattress, the other hand still on your belly. He pulls out until the tip and then slams back inside, as hard as he can, and you downright scream at the feeling, the oversensitiviness adding up to your pleasure.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s another few seconds of silence, and then Wonwoo is fucking you brutally. His moans echo through the room, so completely desperate that it has you wailing, sobbing, crying desperate pleas for more.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Look at that,” Wonwoo says, hand pressing harder against the bulge in your stomach. “Pushed my big cock into you until your insides were forced to make room for it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He grabs your arm and yanks you up, your back pressing against his chest and an arm circling around your waist. The other comes up to squeeze your left breast as you practically sit on his thighs. You moan at the feeling of his pierced nipple dragging against your skin every time he fucks up into you, your body only held in place because of the firm grip Wonwoo has on you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Sobbing, you feel like you’re losing yourself in the sensations, Wonwoo’s cock pounding into your cunt and his voice by your ear and the burn of his hips hitting your ass — by now it must be all red, the marks probably going to linger for some time. You can’t hold yourself together anymore, mouth open and drooling, tears clinging to your lashes, staccato moans falling from your lips that break on every thrust. You’re limp against Wonwoo, can’t even fuck back, letting him have his way with you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Drooling all over yourself for my cock,” Wonwoo says, fucks in deep against your sweet spot and mouths at the side of your neck. “Because of me, right? Tell me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-you— yours, yours, please,” your head falls back on his shoulder, hand pressing tightly in the shape of his cock in your stomach, and at this point you don’t even know what you’re doing anymore.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’ve broken you in, fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And he did, really. He has broken you in, has you crying on his cock.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You belong to who?” Wonwoo pressed his hips flush on your ass, grinds hard enough for your body to be sent forward. A short few seconds so you can take a breath — or at least try to. “Hm? Who’s fucking you this good?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-Wonwoo, Wonwon, you, please,” you cry out as he starts to fuck you mercilessly again, the brutal pace punching moans out of you. “Ah, ah, ah, p-please, haaah, I’m y-yours— yours, b-belong to, hmmm, to you only, please!”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah,” Wonwoo echoes, thrusts turning erratic and groans morphing into moans. “Mine.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I can’t — I’m g-gonna—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Come for me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And it’s enough for you. Your muscles tense, toes curling as hot, white pleasure surges through your body and floods you until you fall limp on the bed, hips only up because Wonwoo is holding them tightly. You clench around his cock involuntarily, his groan muffled by your hair and he’s coming, Wonwoo’s cock twitching inside you as thick spurts of come fill you to the brim. They seem to be endless, his spunk filling you up until it’s dripping out and down your thighs.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You don’t remember much of what happens later. Your mind spins and then you fall into a most needed slumber.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You wake up a bit disoriented, having no idea how much has passed since you fell asleep, but you realise you’re all cleaned up and dressed, head resting in Wonwoo’s — thankfully, for the sake of your precious pussy — clothed chest as he uses his cellphone. He smells clean too, hair still a little bit wet, and you smile thinking that the shower you both took before going to bed was useless.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re up?” comes Wonwoo’s question when he feels your lips moving against him, placing his phone somewhere on the bed and circling his arms around you. You move your head, looking up at him with fondness.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hey, baby,” you breathe out, reaching to peck him in the lips once. He smiles, that kind of smile that leaves you breathless with love.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hey, my love,” Wonwoo laughs when you blush at the pet name. It’s so sweet and endearing, you always feel warm whenever he says it. “I see you still get all red when I call you that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up,” you swat at his arm, Wonwoo’s following laugh sounding like the best music you ever heard. “How much did I sleep?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Not much,” he presses you tighter against him. “I think one hour? Something like that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Thanks for taking care of me,” you say, legs tangling with his and the smile never leaving your lips.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Of course, my love. Always will take care of you,” Wonwoo nuzzles your hair and inhales. “Got kind of surprised that I managed to fuck you into unconsciousness.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” you mortify with a laugh, hitting his chest, but he only giggles at you. He giggles. Your heart might explode soon.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“What? Can’t I be happy that I pleasured my tiny girlfriend the way she deserves to?” Wonwoo says, and it sounds like a joke, but when you look up at him again to make a retort, the reverence in his eyes surrenders you speechless.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He stares at you with so much admiration and love, like you’re the most beautiful thing ever.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you,” you say instead, cheeks hurting from the way you’re smiling, and Wonwoo seems to be caught off guard because he’s blushing. Wonwoo’s blushing. He’s so cute you want to die.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up and go back to sleep,” he coughs, pushing your head against his chest and you laugh at this shyness. “I love you too.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Yes. The warmness of his hands, the beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the love in his eyes, the sweetness of his words — you missed everything about Jeon Wonwoo.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

[wkemeup]

Sunrise (7)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 4.8k warnings: ✨kissin✨ 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

“I can't believe this happened,” Natasha groaned, sinking further into her couch cushions as if it could swallow her whole. She held a bottle of cheap vodka in her right hand, her left digging through a bag of sour cream and onion chips. Her red hair was untamed for the first time since you’d known her with strands sticking out at the sides and pieces falling out of her braid. She took another swig from the bottle.  

“Maybe it’s not that bad?” you offered, though the slight alteration of your pitch gave way to your doubt.  

Natasha had been hired through her new security firm to work the art rooms at MOMA. You’d walked her through the hiring process and sat through hours' worth of practice interviews and resume building and anxiously bouncing your knee as you both huddled around the library computer and waited for the email to come through confirming her hire.  

She’d worked so hard for this job. She’d held it for almost six months without incident.  

Nat deadpanned as she wiped the excess droplet of vodka from her lips with the wrist of her sweatshirt. “I tackled a civilian, Y/n.”

“You said he was acting suspicious! Isn’t that enough of a defense?” you tried, betrayed again by your tone. You winced.  

“He was staring at me with those beady little eyes of his,” Nat grumbled, shoving a few more chips in her mouth, continuing before she had a chance to swallow. “He kept looking over his shoulder toward me like he was checking the surveillance of the exhibit, like he might be staging a robbery in his head or coming up with methods to blow it all to shit.”  

She huffed the hair from her eyes, only for it to fall down exactly back into place at the center of her forehead. “Turns out the only plotting he was doing was to get my phone number. Didn’t know that, of course, until I’d had him pinned to the ground and his hands behind his back.”

You sighed. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for veterans like Natasha to struggle in maintaining steady employment. Adjusting to civilian life never came easy. It was why so many soldiers chose to reenlist again and again. Even after years of PTSD and the fractured relationships their distance left behind, they boarded that plane. You’d witnessed it firsthand.  

“They fired me,” Nat admitted, sinking further into the couch.  

She was one at the VA the others feared. With her strong features and deep voice, intimidating glare and the aura of a woman twice her size, no one took to her be anything but the stone-cold persona she amplified. You were one of the few she let her guard down around long enough to see the fragile, loving person underneath.  

“I’m sorry, Nat,” you told her. You reached for her hand, squeezing it in your own.  

She shrugged. “It’s fine. Move on to the next one, right?”

You nodded. Keep moving forward. It was the most she could do.  

“But enough about me,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “What’s going on with you and the broody amputee?”  

“Nat!” You swatted her hard on the arm.

She was unbothered, shoving another handful of chips into her mouth. “Don’t pretend like it's not completely obvious how much the two of you are into each other. Every time I look up to take a sip of coffee at book club, one of you is making heart eyes at the other. Spill.”

You didn’t know where to begin. It felt like you’d known Bucky your whole life. But you started with the moment Sam introduced you at the VA. You told her about the moments at the library and how eagerly he read through every book you placed in his hand. You told her about the coffee trips to Luciana’s and the extra time he spent helping you set up for book club and cleaning up when it ended. You told her about the walks in the park and surprise visits at the library. 

There were a few moments you left out, like Bucky’s panic attack on the crowded streets and the flashback episode the fireworks created, but you told her about the good parts. The holding hands. The comfort you felt when he walked into the room. The kiss you’d shared just a few hours earlier.  

“Shit, we’re talking about James Barnes, right?” Natasha laughed as you told her he’d been the one to press forward to kiss you first. “Sam used to talk about him all the time before he started showing his face around the VA. I’d gotten the impression that he was barely keeping it together after what happened over there, like he was a ghost or something. Sounds like he’s got some game back though.”  

You nodded, a laugh on your lips though it felt a little drained. You thought of the picture on Sam’s desk and the vibrance in Bucky’s smile with his arms thrown over the shoulders of his closest friends. You thought of the version of the man Natasha described, the same one Sam referenced in the library the day before when he thanked you for helping Bucky find himself again.  

Curiosity crept it. It was more than that, though. You wanted to understand how a man so full of life and charm and energy could be wiped clean so quickly. You wanted to know, not for your own selfish indulgences, but so you could better understand the man you were falling for. A man who lost himself for so long and was only now starting to pick up the pieces again.  

“Do you know what happened to him?” you asked, a bitter taste of shame lingering in your mouth.

“I don’t.” Natasha shook her head and you sighed, nodding. You resigned to let the inquiry go entirely – it wasn’t something you’d ever ask Bucky about directly, but then Natasha cleared her throat. “I do know he came home with a Bronze Star, though. Sam said he won't even look at it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “A what?”

“A Bronze Star. It’s awarded for exceptional bravery in combat,” Natasha explained. “My guess is it’s got something to do with how he lost his arm.”

You suspected as much. He carried himself with such distain, as if he couldn’t stand the body he was in. You’d felt the sharp cringe in his back whenever your hand drew too close to his left side, how he’d often stare at you in disbelief whenever you so willingly reached out to touch him. He’d never once removed his jacket in front of you and sometimes you wondered if he made careful avoidance of the mirrors in his own home, too.  

***

The first time you saw Bucky again, you’d kissed him on the sidewalk. Rushed up to him as you skipped steps descending outside the doors of the Brooklyn Library, hands pressed firmly to the sides of his face, and just... kissed him.

It startled him at first, enough for his arm to hold out at his side, frozen, for just a second too long before it settled on your spine. Your fingers gently traced along the stubble on his cheeks, smiling bright against his lips, and he’d kissed you back as tourists and locals filtered through the busy walkway as if they were little more than a blur around you.  

It became routine, it seemed, for Bucky to be waiting at the steps of the library for you. He didn’t shy away when you raced towards him, didn’t flinch when you reached for his hand, didn’t hold his breath so tight he could hardly focus.  

Instead, he was full of laughter. He made jokes that would put Sam’s cheesy one-liners to shame. He walked with you on empty residential side streets even when his anxiety had started to ease only so could take his time with you, dragging his feet along the pavement to stay by your side as long as possible. It was what he told you, anyway, and your heart just about leapt from your chest. 

You began to see glimpses of the man in the framed picture upon Sam’s desk. Outgoing. Flirtatious. Charming.  

Sam noticed the difference almost instantly. The way his eyes flickered over to the two of you, narrowed upon the absence of space between you both as you leaned against Bucky on the couch, books nestled in your hands. Sam had been standing in the doorway to book club, peering in through the window, when you noticed him staring. His smile grew wide upon his face, a very unsubtle and enthusiastic thumbs-up followed, and you waved him off before Bucky noticed he was there.  

No one in book club asked questions when after another meeting, you’d taken to resting your head on Bucky’s lap as you read, his own book settling on your shoulder. Tony peered over the top of his binding a few times with a curious stare the time Bucky had finished his book early and spend the remainder of the time reading yours over your shoulder, his finger drawing patterns on the top of your thigh, a kiss pressed to your shoulder here and there. Natasha smirked from her seat on the floor.  

It happened so quickly, how easily you’d fallen for him.  

Always in the smallest moments, in the sweetness of his smile, in the way he glanced over at you every so often as if he were checking to make sure you were still there. He opened up pieces of himself to you, set them gently into your hands and waited to see whether you’d keep them safe or throw them to the fire. It was agonizing for him – the vulnerability of trust – but you’d hoped that by protecting the pieces he showed you, he’d feel safe enough to give you more. You wanted it all. You wanted all of him.  

Sam insisted he’d never seen Bucky smile as much as he has been since he met you, including in the time before the war. It surprised you at first, until you remembered the photo on Sam’s desk. It was the same smile Bucky flashed you just moments before when he swiped a bite from your donut while you were talking to Tony. Teasing. Lighthearted. The weight of mere feathers on his back.  

“Y/n? You alright?”

Bucky’s voice drew your attention away from the tourists wandering around the park, taking photographs of the ducks at the edge of the pond and the old oak trees with leaves of fallen red and orange at their roots, the open branches giving way to a view of the Manhattan skyline.  

You blinked a few times, turning to Bucky as he sat on your left, his brows furrowed in concern. You must have been quiet for too long, which was unusual for you, so you pushed out a smile for him, a slight squeeze in his hand.  

“Just thinking,” you told him.

“What about?”

You pulled his hand into your lap, tracing over the lines in his palm absentmindedly. A distant pulse of his heartbeat could be felt in the tips of his fingers.  

“You.”  

He smiled at that, the corners of his mouth curving high up into his cheeks. A twinge of pink rested on the tips of his ears. He chuckled in an effort to hide his nervousness, though it lingered into his voice. “Me? I’m sitting right here.”

“What? I can’t think about you?” you teased, bringing his hand up to your lips as you pressed a kiss to his knuckles. He watched you with the kind of awe that left him speechless for a moment. It was your favorite look on him; how his lips parted ever so slightly, the blue of his eyes shading into something softer, the muscles in his face slacking.  

He cleared his throat. “Uh, I guess that’s okay.”

“Good,” you smirked, setting in against his side. You rested your head on his shoulder, playing with his hand in your lap as you watched two little boys chasing the ducks around the pond, flapping their arms and trying to encourage the ducks to fly.  

You’d been sitting on the old, wooden bench under the tallest oak tree for nearly two hours when you glanced up to find a series of dark clouds rolling in and obstructing the cast of red and oranges filtering along the horizon. They hung heavy and ominous as a shadow lingered over the park.  

“Hey Bucky?” you started, sitting up straight as you gestured to the clouds. He had a sort of sleepy look in his eyes like he could have been content to sit there with you all night long. “We should probably get out of here before—”  

You felt the first raindrop on your cheek. Wiping it away, you looked up into the sky just in time as sheets of rain poured out from the clouds. You gasped, grabbing a firm hold of Bucky’s hand and yanking him up to his feet.  

“Come on!” you yelled over the rush of rain as it slammed onto the cobblestones in the park and shook the trees. Bursting into laughter, you threw the hood of your jacket up over your head in a half-ditched effort to stay dry. Bucky’s hand secure in your own, you took off running, only for his laughter to follow you as he chased you down the streets.

Rain drenched into your hair and ran in droplets down your spine, clothes soaked through to the bone by the time you realized where you were running. Luciana’s was just around the corner, calling to you like trumpets at the golden gates. Hot chocolate nestled between your palms, the warm hum of the radiator, nibbling on leftover pastries from the day. Truly, Heaven.  

By the time you reached Luciana’s, you’d nearly slammed into the door trying to get inside. The canopy was incredibly small, no bigger than space for a single person, but you reached out and gripped Bucky by the lapel of his jacket and tugged him beside you to pull him from the rain. You could feel the heat of his breath through his labored pants, the small puffs of warm air pressing out into the cold, and you laughed nervously at how close you were standing.  

“Her daughter has a dance recital tonight,” Bucky read from the sign posted on the inside of the door. “It’s closed.”

Sure enough, as you looked inside, the lights were out, chairs flipped upside down and resting on the tops of the tables. Rain poured against the windows, the mist of it still catching your spine and you pressed up closer to Bucky, nearly against his chest. You tried to control how fast your heart was beating, but you were almost certain he could feel it.  

“Okay, let me think,” you said, more so to yourself, as you looked out into the streets. They were empty, save for a few cars going about ten under the speed limit and a few teenagers sprinting by in backpacks and school uniforms. Your apartment wasn’t too far from here...

“Follow me!” you shouted over the rainfall, grabbing a hold of his hand.  

***

Bucky didn’t have much time to ask questions, because your hand was in his again and suddenly you were dragging him back out into the streets. You took him down the block, through a few back streets, and along a series of brownstones with fallen leaves littering the streets and the high arch of tree branches shading the sidewalk in small relief from the rain.

You skipped up a few stairs, shouldering open the door and pushed Bucky inside. He waiting in the small doorway as you dug through your bag for a pair of keys, wiping a line of rain from your forehead. You exhaled in relief as the door unlatched and you reached for Bucky’s hand again, guiding him inside.

One floor up and the first door on the left, you stepped inside of your apartment and quickly began rushing around to rid yourself of your jacket and the soaking wet shoes on your feet. Bucky stood planted on the doormat, the door closing slowly behind him.

Rain tapped against the outside windows, a dark cloud of grey hanging in the sky and casting a shadow into your living room. A single lamp illuminated the space in a soft yellow tone, touching over dozens of blankets hanging over the couch and bundled up in a basket on the floor, books piled high on the coffee table, newspapers with highlighter marks folded neatly on the kitchen table, and a few cardigans draped over the chairs.

“Can I make you coffee? Tea?” you asked from the kitchen as you wrung out your hair in the sink, shaking off the excess droplets from your hands. Bucky glanced down at the floor, realizing he was carrying water through the hardwoods in your apartment. He winced, quickly making his way back to the doormat.

“I’m alright, thanks,” he said, keeping himself as small as he could on the mat.

“Take your shoes off,” you instructed, pointing to the series of boots lined up by the door. “I’ll go find you some dry clothes.”

With that, you disappeared into your bedroom.  

Bucky stepped out of his shoes, wandering further inside. He’d been too out of it the last time he was inside your apartment, too unfocused with one foot across the ocean to really look around.  

He found himself drawn to the hallway leading up to your bedroom, with pictures hanging along the wall in old, wooden frames. Some from what looked to be your childhood, with softer features upon your face and dressed in overalls and bright pink sneakers. Then, a few from high school with your arms hung around the shoulders of your friends, mid-laugh. But there was one in particular that caught his attention. 

At the very end of the line, hung a photograph of you standing in front of a couple who looked to be your parents. You seemed to be a few years younger, judging by the cut of your hair and the softness in your features. On your left was a man dressed in an air force uniform, hands clasped behind his back. You were standing on an airbase, smiling, but your eyes were red, reflective. Like you’d been saying goodbye and were desperately pretending otherwise.

“This was all I could find,” you said, emerging back from the bedroom with t-shirt and sweatpants in hand. They were too large for you, men’s sizes, and Bucky felt his heart clench as he saw the faded air force logo on top corner of the shirt. He wondered if it belonged to the man in the photo.

“Thank you,” he nodded as you placed them on the counter.  

You were wringing out your hair with a towel when he realized you’d changed, too. The dampness on your skin clung to the fresh cotton of your t-shirt, pulling it tight against your chest. He exhaled a tense breath.  

"God, look at you,” you laughed, a hand reaching up to touch the tips of his hair as they dripped excess water down onto his shoulders. You pushed it to rest behind his ear, brushing the lingering rain from his cheeks. “It’s unfair, you know?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, confused. “What is?”

“That you look this handsome soaking wet.”

His instinct was to laugh, but the way you were looking at him made his breaths a little shallow, his stomach twisting into knots. You weren’t teasing as you said it, no lingering joke in its wake. He swallowed.  

“I... uh... what? No.” He tried to brush it off, but your hands had slid along his waist behind the hem of his jacket and it stopped him dead in his tracks.  

He held his breath as you flattened your palms against his stomach, running your fingers over what once had been hardened muscle before he let himself fall into darkness that took over his life for months. Now, his body favored something softer. You didn’t seem to mind though as you bit down on the fullest part of your lip, hands sliding around to his spine.  

“Let me take this off? Please?” you asked, voice low, with the kind of inflections laced within your tone that made Bucky shift uncomfortably in his stance. Your hands slipped up along his chest, lingering by his shoulders and you gripped onto the lapel. It was soaking wet.  

“You must be freezing,” you tried again, a little lighter this time, offering him a sweet smile. You must have noticed his apprehension because you softened a bit, letting your hands rest against his cheeks as you drew his attention to you. “It’s alright, Bucky. It’s just me.”

He searched your eyes as you gazed up at him and though he tried, he found no reason to turn you away. His heart was pounding in his chest, his right hand shaking a bit, but then, you leaned forward and captured his lips against your own, and suddenly, he was at ease again.

You kissed him and his right hand found its way to rest against your lower back, pressed flat against your spine; it clenched into the fabric, seeking more, and his fingertips brushed over a sliver of bare skin. He felt your hands slid down along his neck, to his collar, until they slipped under the fabric of his jacket against, resting on his shoulders. You were waiting for his permission.  

Then, as you pulled away from his lips for only a second, he nodded. Your lips returned to his almost instantly, and he wondered if maybe you were trying to distract him, or help to ease him as the fabric draped down off his shoulders. His heart was thunderous in his chest, louder than the press of rainfall against the windows outside, but there was a sense of calm in it, a nervousness certainly, but a comfort, too.  

He felt the weight of the jacket lift from his shoulders as you set it to hang over the chair. He felt instantly lighter, like you’d removed an anvil from his back, and he suspected it had less to do with the rain-soaked fabric than he cared to admit. He kept his eyes closed as your hands roamed along his shoulders, focusing on the feel of your lips as they traveled from the corner of his mouth along his jaw line.  

“Bucky?” you called so sweetly it nearly made his knees buckle.  

“Mmm?” He felt a little dizzy, high on the touch of your lips to his skin.  

He heard the soft ruffle of fabric as you grabbed the clean clothes you brought for him on the counter. Then, your hand slipped into his and he let his eyes flutter open. You were watching him with more affection than he was prepared for. His heart lurched forward, aching to jump right into your arms.

“Come this way.”  

He nodded, trailing behind you as you led him into your bedroom. The lighting was dim, barely casting in a soft orange glow from the lamp at your bedside. The clouds were still dark and heavy as they hung outside the windows, the rain obstructing the view of the brownstones across the street.  

“Here,” you set the clothes on the bed. “Get changed alright? I don’t want you catching a cold.”

You smiled for him and his heart just about burst. Then, you disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.  

Bucky stepped forward, running his hand over the Air Force logo in the top corner of the t-shirt. He picked up the shirt, and held it against his nose. It smelled like you, like maybe you’d been wearing it for years now, but there was a name written in sharpie on the inside tag. It was barely legible, but it didn’t look like your own. He tried not to think about who gave you this shirt and who wore it before him, and he quickly removed the damp one soaked to his skin in favor of the one you’d given him.  

He changed his pants, too, and a wash of relief came over his body as the chill faded from his skin. The clothes were warm, soft, and he raked his fingers through his hair, thankful it had dried enough to stop from dripping down onto the fabric.

“Hey,” you called, emerging from the bathroom. Your eyes paused on him for a moment, taking him in with the fresh clothes on and something unrecognizable flashed over your features – something that resembled sadness. You shook it off quickly, pushing out a smile as you walked toward him. “Better?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to your hairline as you wrapped your arms around his waist. “Thank you.”

You leaned up to kiss him again and he swore everything around him came to a sudden stop. You tugged him down onto the bed, sliding in behind him as you threw the covers over you. Bucky kept his back pressed to the mattress as you climbed over his waist, settling with just enough of your weight compressing against him that he found a relief in it.  

His right hand slipped along your waist line, sliding flat over bare skin, warm to the touch. You smiled against his lips and he found himself laughing as you peppered kisses along his cheekbones, his nose, his hairline, down along his jaw, and then finally – back to his lips again.

So lost in you, in the moment, he felt his left hand slid along the underside of your shirt, fabric brushing over the top of his hand as he touched over your ribs and inching closer to your chest. He stifled a moan as he cupped at your breast, swiping his thumb along the pebbled nipple. It wasn’t until he felt an echo of a muscle spasm at his left shoulder that he realized he wasn’t feeling anything at all.  

His eyes snapped open and he found his right hand at the base of your spine, your shirt untouched. Reluctantly he glanced down at his left side; the open sleeve of the t-shirt leaving no pretenses in its wake. He was empty there. A piece of him missing. He tried to swallow back the frustrated groan before it passed through his lips, but you heard it. You felt it, too.

“Bucky?” you questioned, concern littering your eyes as you pulled away. “Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No, of course not,” he replied quickly, brushing his hand along the side of your face until it drew a smile back to your lips. The way you were watching him, like maybe he could entrust you with the darkest parts of himself, if only for glimpse, and it pushed him to say more. “I just... I hate that I can’t hold you the way I want. There’s more that I would—” He groaned, head sinking back into the pillows. “I’m not used to... I don’t— I don’t know how to with only one... um...I haven’t— Not since before—”  

He bit down on the inside of his cheek, his ears flushing red. You seemed to understand what he was saying as you nodded ever so slightly; the fact that he’d barely learned how to manage his life again with only one arm – everything from washing his hair to getting dressed in the morning, to chopping vegetables and reading a book. He hadn’t even attempted to consider what it was like to be with a woman like this; to want to hold her and please her and touch as much of her as he could. It never crossed his mind before you.  

“I’m in no rush,” you said simply, like maybe you were implying you’d wait around long enough for him to figure it out. Or maybe, you’d be willing to help him learn again. You leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “It’s late. You’ll stay tonight, won’t you? I don’t want you out in that storm.”

Bucky nodded, feeling a little dizzy as he stared up at you. Backlit from the soft glow of the lamp illuminating around you like a halo, Bucky would have said yes to just about anything you could have asked of him. Relief pressed over your features and you sank down onto the bed beside him, curling up against his right side.  

Your arm draped across his waist as his circled around your shoulders, fingertips drawing patterns along your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Then, you reached over him to turn off the lamp and a comfortable darkness blanketed the room, the only break from the silence the gentle tap of the rain against the windowpane.  

For the first night in months, he welcomed the kind embrace of a dreamless sleep.  

[geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde]

Waffle House AU

It’s never mentioned but for clarification, Jaskier has a beard in this. Anyway, @officerjennie, @all-hail-the-witcher, and myself shouldn’t be left alone together because then things like this happen. I love you both.

Geraskier, rated t, modern au and Geralt's still a witcher

-

The first time the man showed up, it was nearing three in the morning. The Waffle House Jaskier worked overnights in was as packed as ever, that’s to say there were two regulars sitting at the bar and a hoard of bugs flying around the place.

The man in question was dressed head to toe in some sort of armor that looked like it belonged in a steampunk cosplay and covered in an odd black substance that looked sticky. Even from across the restaurant, Jaskier could already smell the foul odor rolling off the man in waves. It was so strong Jaskier was surprised that he couldn’t see it.

Walking to the other end of the bar, closest to the corner table the man had seated himself it, Jaskier shouted at him, unwilling to get any closer than necessary, “What do you want to drink?”

“Coffee,” the man’s voice was deep, more a growl than anything else.

Wrinkling his nose in displeasure, Jaskier grabbed the coffee pot and a mug and made his way over to the table, singing loudly to himself as he did so. Jaskier’s voice bounced off the shitty interior of the Waffle House, making it echo in a most unpleasant way. Jaskier switched to humming an upbeat tune as he approached the man at the table and began pouring the coffee.

“So, what do you think of my singing?” It was a question Jaskier asked all of his late-night customers. Their answers would determine whether he would keep them as regulars or do his best to run them off.  And his best never failed.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier frowned at the non-answer, “Come now, three words or less.”

“Filling-less pie.”

Spluttering, Jaskier pointed at the man angrily, “You know nothing about music. What do you want to order?”

“Hashbrowns. Smothered and covered.”

Spinning on his heal, Jaskier stalked away from the man without responding, instead muttering angrily under his breath, “I’ll show you filling-less, you bastard.”

-

Dropping the plate in front of the man, Jaskier watched as the rubbery meal bounced uncomfortably off the plate before landing back on it, somehow looking even worse than it already had.

“What is this?” The man’s voice held no inflection and Jaskier had no way of knowing the man’s feelings as he looked at the pathetic plate in front of him.

“Your food.”

“I ordered hashbrowns.”

Jaskier had to hold in his gasp as the man’s eyes, the most unusual golden shade, met his.

“Well, this is what I’ve brought you.”

The man looked back at the plate, flipping open the joke of an omelet, revealing that it was just eggs cooked in a pan and folded over, “There’s nothing inside. What kind of omelet doesn’t have anything in it?”

“Oh? Do you not like filling-less omelets? What a shame.”

Jaskier stalked back to the bar and took a seat by the regsiter, pulling his book back out and pretending to read it while he watched the man from the corner of his eye. He didn’t even look back to Jaskier’s direction, instead staring grumpily at the eggs in front of him before beginning to eat them.

The man ate quickly and before long he was walking over to the register where Jaskier sat, throwing a wad of bills down on the counter, “Keep the change.”

“I will.”

“You’re a shitty waiter.”

“You smell bad.”

And that, Jaskier assumed, would be that and he would never have to see the weird, smelly, strangely attractive man ever again.

-

The next night when the man arrived again, this time covered in a weird flaky green substance, Jaskier couldn’t help but eye him suspiciously. People didn’t typically return after Jaskier provided intentionally bad service, at least not if they were sober and of a sound mind. Jaskier couldn’t confidently say this man’s mind was sound, although he did seem sober.

Jaskier grabbed the coffee pot and a mug and stalked over to the corner table. He filled the cup halfway.

“More hashbrowns?”

The man wrinkled his brow, a frown on his face “Yes.”

Wandering back to the kitchen, in no rush, Jaskier stuck his head back in to look at the cook, “More eggs like last night. And can you add something weird to them this time?”

The line cook saluted him before reaching up to grab something off the shelf above his head. Jaskier winced, he wasn’t sure what exactly was in the mixtures of spices that were kept up there, but he had never had a good experience with them, that was for certain. This would for sure run off the weird tone-deaf man for good. The cook was done in no time and Jaskier walked the plate over to the man in the corner, throwing it down on the table like he had the night before.

He did no more than blink in surprise when the table collapsed. Jaskier wasn’t sure exactly why the table collapsed, the plate and shitty eggs didn’t weigh very much, and he hadn’t thrown the plate down particularly hard. But, it wasn’t the weirdest thing he has ever seen in the Waffle House, so he simply caught the man’s eye and shrugged, turning and walking back to his seat.

He watched amusedly as the man juggled his plate off the table before propping it up awkwardly and moving seats. That hadn’t been part of Jaskier’s plan, but it would certainly work in his favor.

-

Jaskier was shocked when the man walked in for a third night in a row. The normally difficult to fluster waiter was very aware that his face was the very picture of surprise. Luckily, the man didn’t even look at him as he walked over to the table in the corner. He shook it a bit before sitting down, presumably making sure it wouldn’t collapse today. To be honest, Jaskier wasn’t overly confident it was any sturdier now, but it did appear that someone on day shift had at least made it look as though it was fixed.

Grabbing the coffee pot and a mug, Jaskier couldn’t help but hope this wouldn’t truly become a ritual. He didn’t want a man in his Waffle House if said man couldn’t tell that Jaskier’s singing was nothing short of marvelous.

“Hashbrowns again?”

The man nodded, staring out of the window rather than looking at Jaskier. He wasn’t in the weird steampunk armor anymore, this time wearing a soft black tee shirt and worn in jeans. It also seemed he had managed to find a bath and was able to get all of the weird grimy things off of him.

He really was quite attractive all cleaned up, Jaskier couldn’t help but notice.

“What’s your name?”

The man turned to look at him, “Geralt.”

Walking over to the kitchen, Jaskier put in the order and sat back down by the register to wait. It wasn’t long before One-Eyed Larry grunted at him from his usual seat at the bar, “Napkin holders on fire, kid.”

Looking over at the table in front of Geralt’s, Jaskier saw that the napkin holder was, indeed, on fire. Sighing and getting a glass of water, Jaskier walked over to the table and poured the glass on it, drenching it thoroughly. Waving away the smoke, Jaskier turned the napkin holder around, making sure the fire was completely out, before putting it back in its place and taking his seat again.

Geralt’s golden eyes followed him curiously the whole time.

If the man was going to be spending his nights here, then he would need to get used to these kinds of things. It was three in the morning in a Waffle House, weirder would happen.

A few minutes more passed before there was a bell ding from the kitchen, signaling that Geralt’s food was ready. Jaskier tossed the plate on the table as was tradition, smirking when he saw the surprise flit across the man’s face. No doubt he hadn’t been expecting to receive hashbrowns, smother and covered as he had first asked for two nights prior.

What could Jaskier say, he was rather weak for a pretty face. Even if was a rude one.

“If you agree that my singing is spectacular, I’ll let you take me out for coffee sometime.”

“Good coffee or this shit?” Geralt gestured to the mug in front of him.

Jaskier scoffed, “You think I would ever eat or drink anything from here?”

“That’s comforting.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” Jaskier sat a notepad and pen on the table, “Leave your number and I’ll call you tomorrow to cash in.”

Later when Jaskier cleared the table, he couldn’t help but smile at the neat handwriting on the notepad.

Looking forward to hearing from you. You should get your napkin holder checked out.

-

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[random-imagines-blog]

Give & Take {Dev Patel One Shot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 1890 Summary: After a long day, you and your boyfriend make a cute dinner together.

Dev, though he had a rather shy personality most of the time, enjoyed showing off in front of you. He was humming along with the music that was coming through the speakers, an apron on over the clothing that he had chosen for your date night together. He was cutting into cherry tomatoes, and every once in a while, he would pop one up into the air and catch it in his mouth. And after, without fail, he would always look to you and make sure that you had caught that. He’d look almost like a lost little puppy until it was acknowledged.  “Did you see that one?” He asked, once he caught your eye. “It almost hit the ceiling. Still caught it though. Delicious.”

“I think you missed your calling,” You teased. You stood on the other side of the kitchen island, cutting up the other things to go onto the loaded Naan breads you were making tonight. He was in charge of the tomatoes and you were in charge of the red onion. “Here, give me one. I want to see if I can catch it.”

You stood there with your mouth open, pointing at it, waiting for him to toss one of the sweet little fruits. He did so dramatically, pretending to do a whole baseball-type wind up, and then threw overhand. The red ball went flying through the air, gaining speed as it started to drop. You had to move a little to one side, but you did manage to catch it right between your teeth. His arms went up in celebration. Yours did too. “Boo-yeah!”

“I think you missed your calling too,” He said, neglecting the rest of his tomatoes to cut and circled around back to you. He became your new apron, wrapping his arms around you as you bit into the little red fruit, the juice filling your mouth. “Careful. You might ruin your appetite.”

“Maybe I’m just in a hurry to get to dessert,” You joked, looking up at him. The man was tall. He stood over six feet, and then his messy hair which had been standing upright as of late seemed to add another inch or two.

You had been dating one another for a while. Beyond that, you had even lived together for a month now. Seeing how things were going before he would pop the big question, which you hoped would be soon. Things were going swimmingly. This was the best relationship that you ever had. Even with the whole actor thing, which had seemed like a downside, not a perk. You were no groupie.

Dev looked down at you with a sheepish grin. He always got a little too flattered over your compliments, over any inuendos, and didn’t know quite what to do with himself. He grew flustered. Even with all of his acting experience, he couldn’t cover that up.

“Maybe just a little bit,” He said, making just the slightest scrunch face. He let go of you to run one hand through his hair. It was growing out quite unruly but it was a great look on him. “You’re really damn cute, you know that?”

Now it was your time to blush. You were getting compliments from someone who had been teased by Ellen DeGeneres as being the sexiest man alive. “We’re never going to get dinner in the oven at this rate, come on,” You chuckled, and picked up your knife again. He gave you a cheeky grin then walked back over to his station and cut a few more of the small tomatoes in half.

You stood together while you decorated the top of your loaded breads that would be your dinner for the night. It was a chilly night outside, a cold winter rain drizzling against the windows of the house that you shared, the outer skies a deep gray. An almost overwhelmingly dreary day. But inside, inside it was all soft yellow lighting, warmth coming from the oven, and your favorite cozy sweaters to change into before you would start the movies you had chosen that night - and the heady smelly of the spices and cheese, and the promise of cuddles filled the air. London was full of days like this, but so was the inside of your home, all because Dev brought a certain warmth into it, a feeling of complete comfort.

You jokingly stole a few of the tomatoes from his naan bread and slipped it onto his own. He gave your behind a daring swat and while you dropped your jaw at his boldness, he stole them right back, sprinkling it back onto his own dough. “You’re such a brat,” You said, taking just one more before he picked up the tray to put it into the oven, putting it down with a splat onto your own loaded bread.

“And you’re the tomato thief,” He retorted, putting the breads into the hot box and took off his apron, hanging it on the designated hook - everything here had their place, and the look that he was giving you, it told you that he was expecting you to get into yours. “C’mere,” He mumbled.

And you went.

You wrapped your arms around him and breathed him in. His own went around you, holding you close. Music was playing from the other room and you started to sway just enough for it to be considered dancing. “How long is dinner going to take?” You asked.

“Ten minutes, about,” He said, looking over to the oven. He was a vegetarian, and when you moved in, you threw yourself head long into the lifestyle as well, and never looked back. But he was still the expert when it came to putting together the meals. You were just his very happy helper. Especially when you got to see him wear his cute apron. “Why?”

“That’s almost enough time for this,” You said, leaning up, leaning in, and planted your lips onto his. And in return, love blossomed. It was always so strong between the two of you, you could feel it, to the point where the little make out session was interrupted by the fact that you couldn���t quit smiling. “Why do you have to be so damn cute?” You asked.

“I think it might have something to do with my parents,” He said, that same silly smile on his face, always looking just a little bit bashful. God, you loved him.

You answered that with even more kisses. His arms went around your waist and you both backed up into the counter. Your hands went on top of the slippery,smooth surface to try to find some purchase but you soon found yourself on top of it, Dev helping to put you there. His hands were all over you. Sliding up your shirt in the back. They were so warm. You could feel the heat of them more than you could the oven. You were making a bit of a mess, knocking a couple of things over in the process. The container of tomatoes fell onto the floor, scattering the little red fruits over the kitchen tiles. You didn’t even notice, so wrapped up in the man that was loving you at that moment.

It was only the sound of the timer of Dev’s phone that made you break apart and start laughing. He was the one that sprang into action, grabbing the oven gloves off of the counter. A tomato split underneath his socked foot, making him cringe, which caused you to laugh even harder. “What are you laughing at?” He said, opening the oven, the heat coming out in waves around his face. You could even see the hair curl around his cheeks just a little.

“You,” You grinned, swinging your legs back and forth. “It’s a good thing you only wear black socks. That might have stained otherwise.”

“Well thank you for buying them,” He laughed. The breads looked perfect. He slid them off of the tray and onto a large plate. “But remember what you said before we starting cooking?”

Your face dropped at that. Oh yes, you did remember. “Oh no.”

“Oh yeah,” he laughed, holding up the plate. “You said that if I do most of the cooking, you’ll do the cleaning. That’s on you.”

“Crap,” You pouted, forgetting about that. “What if you clean up the floor and... I’ll clean up the plate,” You said, taking it from him with a grin and a sparkle in your eye. He reached for it, but slipped again on the tomato and had to grab onto the counter to stop himself from falling down. With another laugh, you made your way over to the living room where the couch, the TV and all of your cozy blankets were waiting for you.

He joined you a moment later, sock in hand rather than on his foot. He tossed it over at you, and it landed on your lap rather than the plate. “I just wrote you down for laundry duty,” He teased. “What if we clean the floor together - after we eat.”

“Okay,” You agreed. “I think we can do that.” You set the plate down on the table, picked up his wet sock and toseed it off of the couch, out onto the floor to be picked up later. You’d do a load after the movie, just so he’d have them nice and clean once again. But for now, you were focused on the smells of the food in front of you, the aroma wafting up with the steam. “That smells so good.”

“All because of my expert tomato skills,” He bragged, sitting down beside you, the cushion dipping, bringing you closer in together. “Though you helped a bit with the onion. Thanks.”

“Oh, I’m so glad I was able to help my favorite chef,” You smiled, booping the end of his nose making him laugh. You both settled in, leaned back, started the movie and ate your loaded flat breads. The spices were amazing. It was surprisingly hearty for how ... just simple it was. After it disappeared, you cuddled up together, blankets to keep your laps and legs warm. His one un-socked foot kept touching you, the coldness of it surprising you each time. You’d put kisses on his jawline during parts in the movie that were a bit boring, a bit - dialogue or scenery heavy, and you could feel him smiling beneath it.

“Are you going to keep this up?” He muttered, putting his hand on your upper thigh.

“Keep what up?” You asked, imagining a little halo appearing over your head.

“Teasing me,” He muttered.

“Maaayyybbeee.” You said, smiling against his skin. You trailed upwards to under his earlobe. He let out a nervous little laugh.

“You know I really wanted to watch this, right?”

“Oh, am I distracting you?” You asked. He rolled his eyes, put his arm around you and pulled you down so that your head was on his chest.

“Much better,” He chuckled.

“For you maybe,” You said, getting a mouthful of warm, yarn sweater.

“Yup,” He popped. You shook your head - he was lucky that he was so cute - and settled in against him again, using his chest as a pillow as you settled in for the last half of the movie.

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 27

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 27 - This Venerable One Will Cook You A Bowl of Noodles

Chu Wanning felt completely faint.

He blamed himself for being so distracted and unsuspecting on Life-Death Peak. He didn't even notice someone come over.

What was going on? Where did this child come from? His last name was Mo, but Mo. . . what was is again. . . ? Mo Shao? Mo Zhu? Mo. . . Yu?

He composed himself and put on an expression that screamed: "get away". The surprise and panic in his phoenix eyes were quickly masked by his usual harsh and threatening demeanour.

"You—"

He raised his hand out of habit to discipline him, but something suddenly caught his wrist.

Chu Wanning was stunned.

He had been around for a while yet no one had ever dared grab his wrist so casually. For a while, he was frozen in place, not knowing what he should do.

Pull it away and give him a backhanded slap?

. . . It felt like a good word to describe that would be "indecent," like he was no different from a woman in this situation.

Then pull his hand away and not slap him?

. . . Wouldn't that seem like he was being too nice?

Chu Wanning hesitated for a long time and didn't move but the young man laughed: "What's this on your hand? It's pretty good-looking, do you teach how to make stuff like this? Everyone else has introduced themselves already but you haven't spoken yet. Which elder are you? Hey, do you have a headache?"

With so many questions thrown at him, while Chu Wanning's mind hadn't hurt before, now it did.

His mind felt like it was about to split in half. . .

As he got irritated, a golden light in his hand started to glow. When they saw that Tianwen was about to be summoned, the other elders were horrified and moved - Chu Wanning was crazy, right? He would even dare to whip Young Master Mo?

Then, Mo Ran was suddenly holding his hand.

Now Mo Ran had trapped both of his hands. Mo Ran didn't up on the danger of his situation. He pulled him closer and stood in front of him. He tilted his head and said with a smile: "My name is Mo Ran. I don't know anyone here, but just from looking at you, I like you the most. How about I worship you as my shizun, okay?"

This was completely unexpected. The people around them were even more horrified. Several elders gaped with mouths ajar.

Elder Xuanji: "Huh?"

Elder Pojun: "What!"

Elder Qisha: "Oh?"

Elder Jielu: "Uh. . ."

Elder Tanlang: "Hah, ridiculous."

Elder Lucun was the most feminine of the bunch with wavy hair and eyes flooded with peach blossoms: "Ah, this little boy is so bold. He's truly a courageous young man. He might even be so bold as to touch Elder Yuheng's ass."

". . . I beg you, can you not say something so repulsive?" Qisha said with disgust.

Lucun rolled his eyes gracefully and hummed: "Fine, let me put it more eloquently. He's truly a courageous young man. He might even be so bold as to touch Elder Yuheng's buttocks."

Qisha: ". . ." Just kill him and forget this ever happened.

The most popular of all the elders was the gentle and jade-like elder Xuanji. His techniques were easy to learn, and he was a modest gentleman. Most of the disciples on Life-Death Peak worshipped underneath him.

Chu Wanning originally thought that this Mo Ran would've been just like all the others. If not Elder Xuanji, then it should be the energetic Elder Pojun. It never should have been his turn

But Mo Ran was standing so close to him. His face showed a kind of intimacy and affection that was unfamiliar to him. He was like some clown that was just chosen. It was all so distressing for no reason.

Chu Wanning only knew how to deal with "awe", "fear" and "disgust". Something like "affection" was too complicated.

He didn't even have to think about it. He immediately rejected Mo Ran.

The young man froze. Hidden under his slender eyelashes, there was a sense of loneliness and unwillingness in his eyes. He lowered his head, thought for a second, and unreasonably muttered: "Anyways, I still choose you."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

The Lord was watching with great interest. He piped in with a smile:, "A-Ran, do you know who he is?"

"He didn't tell me, how would I?"

"Haha, since you don't know who he is, why would you pick him?"

Mo Ran was still tugging on Chu Wanning's hands. He turned his head, smiling and said to the Lord: "Because he looks the most gentle and easiest to talk to."

In the darkness, Chu Wanning's eyes snapped open, everything appearing fuzzy.

. . . That was one hell of a scene to see.

He didn't know what the hell was wrong with Mo Ran's eyes back then to actually think that he was gentle. Not to mention that all of Life-Death Peak heard about it. They all sent affectionate greetings to Young Master Mo Ran with looks that said "look at this foolish kid".

Chu Wanning lifted his hand to the corner of his faintly throbbing forehead.

His shoulder hurt, his mind was in turmoil, his stomach was hungry, and his head was spinning.

It seemed like he wasn't going to sleep anytime soon.

He fumed on the bed for a while. He sat up and was about to light a stick of incense to calm his mind when suddenly there was another knock on the door.

Mo Ran was outside.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

He didn't answer. He didn't say whether to stay or leave.

But this time, the door opened by itself.

Chu Wanning looked up gloomily. The lit match in his hand hovered in mid-air but never reached the stick of incense. After a while, it went out.

Chu Wanning said: "Get out."

Mo Ran strolled in.

He was holding a steaming bowl of noodles, fresh from the pot.

This time it was a bit simpler. The noodles weren't as fancy. The rich white noodle soup was garnished with chopped green onion and white sesame seeds, small spare ribs, bok choy, and a slightly browned poached egg.

Chu Wanning was incredibly hungry but he didn't let it show on his face. He glanced at the noodles, then at Mo Ran. He turned his face away and didn't say anything.

Mo Ran put the noodles on the table, and gently said: "I asked the inn's chef to make another bowl."

Chu Wanning lowered his eyes.

Sure enough, Mo Ran didn't make this dish himself.

"Eat some." Mo Ran said. "This bowl isn't spicy, has no beef, and no bean sprouts."

After speaking, he left and closed the door for Chu Wanning on his way out.

He apologized for Chu Wanning's injury.

But he could only do so much.

In the room, Chu Wanning leaned against the window, not knowing what to think. He crossed his arms and stared at the bowl of spare rib noodles from a distance until the heat of the noodles dissipated and they grew cold.

He finally walked over and sat down. He picked up the chopsticks, stirred up the cold and soggy noodles, and slowly ate them.

The case of the Chen family's haunting had been closed.

The next day, they picked up the black horses they had boarded from inside the stables and returned to the sect the same way they had arrived.

In the streets and alleys, tea stalls and rice shops, the people of Caidie Town were all talking about the Chen family's affairs.

The not-so-small town had broken out in scandal, one large enough for the townspeople to talk about it for a whole year.

"I didn't expect that Young Master Chen had been secretly married to Miss Luo for so long. Miss Luo is so pitiful."

"If you ask me, if the Chen family hadn't gotten rich, they wouldn't be able to survive this affair. Sure enough, men can't handle their money. Once they have money, only misfortune will await them."

One man was unhappy and said: "This wasn't Young Master Chen's fault. It's his parents' fault. Mr. Chen, that son of a bitch. His children and grandchildren should only give birth to children without assholes in the future."

Another said: "The dead are pitiful but what about the living? Look at Chen Yao, Yao Qianjin. She's the one who's truly been wronged. That black-hearted mother of the Chen family deceived her. Tell me, what should she do now?"

"Just get remarried."

The man rolled his eyes and sneered: "Remarried? Are you here to get married?"

The mud-coated man who was teased bared his teeth and picked at them, grinning: "If that woman at home agrees, I'd marry her. Ms. Yao looks so beautiful, I don't mind her being a widow."

"Bah, the toad wants to eat swan meat*."

(T/N: 癩蛤蟆想吃天鵝肉 - means having unrealistic wishes or expectations)

Mo Ran sat on the back of the horse, ears perked up, listening to all the conversations in high spirits. If it weren't for Chu Wanning's closed eyes, frown, and the words "extremely noisy" essentially spelled out on his forehead, Mo Ran might have wanted to go join the villagers.

They walked together and finally left the main city, arriving at the outskirts.

Shi Mei suddenly gasped and pointed to the distance: "Shizun, look over there."

In front of the ruined Master of Ceremonies Ghost's earthen temple, there was a large group of peasants in brown clothes and shorts. They were busy moving the bricks and stones. It seemed that they were planning to repair the damaged earthen temple and remould the golden body of the Master of Ceremonies Ghost.

Shi Mei said anxiously: "Shizun, the old Master of Ceremonies Ghost is gone but they've made a new one. Will this be cultivated into an immortal body again and do evil?"

Chu Wanning: "I don't know."

"Should we go and persuade them not to?"

Chu Wanning: "The custom of ghost marriages in Caidie Town has been around for several generations. How would you or I be able to persuade them in just a few words? Let's go."

As he spoke, dust flew up from the horse's hoof and he walked away.

It was already dusk when they returned to Life-Death Peak.

Chu Wanning said to the two disciples in front of the mountain gate: "You go to Danxin Hall and explain what happened. I'll go to the Court of Discipline."

Mo Ran looked puzzled: "Why would you go to the Court of Discipline?"

Shi Mei, on the other hand, looked worried: ". . ."

Chu Wanning nonchalantly said: "To receive my punishment."

Although it's said that an emperor commits the same crime as the common people, what emperor would actually have to go to jail for killing someone? The same goes for the cultivation world.

The elders who break the sect rules are as equally guilty as the disciples - in most sects, it's just empty talk.

In fact, if an elder breaks a rule, it was good enough just to write an apology letter. What fool would actually go to be punished with a willow vine or dozens of sticks?

So, after listening to Chu Wanning's explanation, Elder Jielu's complexion turned green.

"No, Elder Yuheng, did you really. . . did you really beat your client?"

Chu Wanning was indifferent: "Yes."

"You're so. . ."

Chu Wanning raised his stare and gave him a sullen look. Elder Jielu shut up.

"According to the law, for breaking this rule, the punishment is two hundred cane strikes, kneeling in Wushan Temple for seven days, and being forbidden from leaving the grounds for three months." Chu Wanning said. "I have no defence, and I voluntarily accept the punishment."

Elder Jielu: ". . ."

He looked around and hooked his fingers, and the door to the Court of Discipline closed with a clang. The surroundings fell silent, and it was only the two of them that stood opposite each other.

Chu Wanning: "What's the meaning of this?"

"Well, Elder Yuheng, it’s not that you don't understand the rules and their consequences, it's just that it shouldn't be something that you should be overly concerned with. This matter is finished. Let's forget it. If I beat you, won't the Lord be angry with me when he finds out?"

Chu Wanning didn't bother to talk such nonsense with him and simply said: "I hold people accountable according to the law, and I should also be held accountable myself according to the law."

Kneeling down in front of the hall, facing the plaque of sect rules, he said:

"Punish me."

[xtrasauce]

so i have to repost this because it literally did NOT show up in the tags?? 

anywho, enjoy this dabi smut that i self-indulgently wrote and would like for you to read so you can eat good too love you bbs warnings: lots of swearing and whewww sweet smut.

“I’m so tired of this shit” you sighed, wiping your eyes.

Another bullshit artist that came into your life. Another man that gassed you up with promises of being better than the last one...only to be the next repeat offender. You were exhausted. Being played like a fiddle only to be let down every time was zapping you of what little romantic energy you had left. It was hard enough being a fiercely independent woman - people feared you. You were intimidating in how well off you were alone; it made the men you dated feel inadequate, scared even. Despite your laid back attitude and never really making a big deal about taking care of yourself, you couldn’t deny you were a force to be reckoned with. But deep down behind your strength and independence…all you asked for was to be loved. To have someone who didn’t care about your successes and just saw you as a woman. Someone worth affection and not fear. Was that so much to ask? You were capable of vulnerability and delicacy like any other human…so why not you?

You dabbed at your eyes, your shoulders sinking heavily as you whimpered. Pity had its place here when you realized you lost count of how many failed relationships have walked out of your front door.

It was after you’d took a long, shaky breath that you heard the quiet thud of steel-toed boots at your living room window.

“You cutting onions in here?” came the rasp from the other room, “I’m hearin’ a lot of sniffling.”

Your eyes widened at the sound of your long time friend sauntering towards you. You used the sleeve of your oversized t-shirt to fiercely wipe at your face, hopefully leaving no traces of tears behind. “Nah, just allergies” you called from the kitchen. A stitched hand pulled around the corner, dark hair and ocean eyes to follow. It came as no surprise to you that Dabi showed up - this was a fairly common occurrence. You two had been long time friends: far before the league, back when he resorted to petty theft to get his meals. You’ll never forget how he tried to intimidate you with his blue flames into stealing your wallet. What he didn’t expect however, was for you to call him a “little shit” (after clearly hearing his stomach growl) and buy him a meal instead while you yammered on about how you busted your ass for a job they give two shits about you in. You weren’t afraid of him. All the fire he possessed, the scorched skin and scars he bore, the way the staples imbedded in his flesh stretched grossly as he flexed and spoke; none of it fazed you. You were nothing short of fascinating. At first you told him to fuck right off when you noticed how he’d follow you, and he did…from a distance. It wasn’t until some creep tried to rob you at gun point when you got home, accompanied by the instant incineration at Dabi’s hand, that you figured maybe he wasn’t half bad. Ever since then, you made fast friends with this odd flame wielding man. So when he popped into your place without mention, it didn’t bother you.

With a nervous spin, you reached into your fridge and grabbed two drinks - a ritual you often practiced when Dabi came over. He took the neck of the bottle and flicked the top off with ease. “Thanks, doll. You always got a stash ready for me.” he smirked, chugging back a long swig. You rolled your eyes as you hopped up on the countertop, “I have to keep stock otherwise you’re gonna drink me out of my fucking home.” He laughed low at that, leaning back on the faux marble with his elbows. That playful smirk was always plastered on his face when he was around you.

“You love having me around, don’t fucking lie.” You mirrored his smirk, he wasn’t far from the truth. Having Dabi around was a pleasantry. Your friendship with him was one of honesty - you didn’t sugarcoat shit with him and neither did he with you. You supposed that’s why he was so willing to open up to you; something you were sure wasn’t kosher for the kind of man Dabi was. But you understood him nonetheless - a tragic past, littered with so many scars both physical and emotional. The idea of you having any sort of ties to a criminal made you realize you probably weren’t the most wholesome person yourself…but you pushed that thought to the back of your mind as often as you could. For now, he was the closest person you had in your circle.

“Yeah, yeah, hothead,” retorted you, hand waving to brush him off, “Maybe if you weren’t a pain in my ass half the time, I’d like you a little more.” “Oh yeah?” Dabi scoffed, eyebrow raised in amusement. “Maybe I can take the place of your current little boy toy - god knows he doesn’t fuck you enough considering the mouth you’ve got on you.”

Silence fell over you. In any other normal circumstance you’d laugh - punch his shoulder and tell him to shut the fuck up. But now…his words struck you deep without him meaning them to. He picked up the chill of your withdrawal almost instantly and it caused him to lean toward you, scrutinizing the entirety of your face. Eyes narrowed, he spoke a little softer now, “Allergies my ass…you’ve been crying.” It nearly struck a nerve in you how quickly he was able to tell; it shouldn’t surprise you, but it does every time he catches on to things when you try to hide them. Turning to you now, Dabi stuffs his hands in his pockets with his gaze trained on you,

“Out with it.”

Those deep turquoise hues locked you in place, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him directly. With your head turned, you did your best to even your tone out, “It’s nothing Dabi, don’t worry about it.”

“Bullshit,” spat the villain, “Considering how quickly you got quiet over the mere mention of your boyfriend, I know something’s fucking up so spit it out.” You grit your teeth, holding your tongue as the blood in your veins felt of searing fire. His teeth shown now in a sour grin as leaned forward toward you, “Oh suddenly she’s speechless now, huh? That little boyfriend of yours break your heart? I know that pathetic look when I fucking see it.” That got your attention. Your face was twisted with malice, hot tears spilling down your face now with a mix of sadness and frustration. Always the one to push your buttons was he…but never this far. Sure you’d lamented to him after your many break ups, but not like this. Dabi had never seen you cry like this. You yanked the fire user by the collar of his white tee, hurt seething in your words,

“What the fuck would you know? You don’t give a fuck about anything or anyone! I’m surprised you haven’t destroyed my shit the way you destroy everything else in your life!” You were screaming at him now, eyes wild, “You don’t have to deal with every man who walks into your life being AFRAID of commitment with you. God for fucking bid I be an adult who can take care of herself, apparently that’s too scary,” the last few words said with pained sarcasm. He was shoved away as your palm scraped across your face to swipe at your tears,

“What the fuck would you know about relationships or love or any of this shit, Touya?” His name, his real name, slipped from your mouth like poison. Your lips were curled back in a snarl as you burned with embarrassment. It took a full minute before your breathing began to slow from its ragged pattern. Your own words resonated back at you and immediately you felt horrendous guilt. Hands carefully reached out for a gentle touch in apology, “Shit…Dabi, I’m-”

“What would I know, huh,” came a deadpan rasp. As fast as you could blink, he was before you, heated hands prying your knees apart so he could slide between them. He was too close too quickly. Dabi’s eyes were dark and unreadable, piercing into your own, “I know I’m tired of seeing you like this…aren’t you tired of feelin’ like you do?” What a question to ask after being downright insulted. He continued, “I’m sick of watching you throw yourself to these fucking idiots who don’t deserve you - just to watch you crumble and cry and sulk. It’s not like you and it makes my blood fucking boil.” Your eyes began to glaze over with tears once more as he wrapped a hand around your wrist, and suddenly you were pulled toward him, inches from his face. He bore holes through your irises with the intensity of his glare,

“You wanna yell at me for bringing the truth to light? Fucking fine…but at least I’m fucking honest with you, princess.”

He was right. No matter how blunt or scathing his words may have felt when he said them, he never lied to you. He...was probably the only man you knew who was completely honest with you. You suddenly became very aware of the grip his hands had on your legs, how close his body was to yours now. His scent, ash and whiskey, a normal comfort for you now made an unfamiliar shiver crawl up the length of your spine. The hand that wasn’t encased in his grip moved without thought, cupping one of his cheeks. Softly you stroked the flesh there, an apology swimming deep in your eyes,

“Dab- no...Touya, I...I’m sorry.”

The hand that held your wrist released it almost immediately, snapping up to your face. An arm encased your waist as you were pulled against his hard frame. Without a word, he slammed his lips into yours. His grip on your hip made you squeak in surprise, allowing Dabi to slip his tongue into your mouth. As he wrestled down your tongue, you felt yourself overwhelmed with several emotions, shock and confusion being the most prominent. Your hands gripped his shirt once more, shaky fingers unsure of what to make of all this. However...that didn’t stop you from kissing back. Everything in your mind told you this should be weird - you shouldn’t like kissing this asshole and all the grief he gives you every damn day he breathes, yet that’s exactly why it feels so incredibly right. The hand on your face trailed down to the back of your neck, and a hard grip on your hair found you tilting your head back. It was inevitable that a breathy mewl would escape you when Dabi pressed hot kisses into the skin of your neck, sinking his teeth in where he wanted most and licking the indents in the aftermath. When you felt the pressure of his lips and teeth suctioned at your pulse, it dawned on you how very real this was becoming. A million thoughts blazed through your mind - yet it was the self-deprecating thoughts that clung to you the most.

He was looking to get his dick wet and you were vulnerable.

Or worse, he pitied you.

Yes...yes, that one hurt the most. The idea of Dabi only wanting to touch you because he felt bad for being so harsh. You felt your lip tremble at the intrusive whispers that plagued you, and it caused your grip on him to loosen. With a shake in your voice,

“Dabi, don’t do this…”

He stopped. Mouth leaving your neck with a wet pop, he ceased all actions and just kept his hold on you. The waver in your tone never left, “I...I-I can’t be a pity fuck for you. Don’t do that to me, please...I c-can’t take that right now…”

The silence in the room was deafening even through your stifled whimpers. His grip on you faltered slowly, and it made your heart sink. You felt like you’d hit the nail on the head with that notion. It was difficult trying to swallow the seeds of rejection, but you’d have no choice.

“You think...this is a pity fuck?” came his voice, full of gravel and a tinge of something you couldn’t place. Suddenly the arm on your waist doubled down in its hold, nearly crushing you against him. His head never left the crook of your neck however and his deep exhale on your skin made your whole body shiver. Dabi trailed his tongue from your pulse to just under your jaw, pressing a small groan into your neck when you arched your chest against his. The growl he let out made you bite your lip, it was strained - as if to insinuate he was holding something back.

“Babe…” he muttered scratchily, “If I wanted to pity fuck someone, I’d pick some sad bitch at the club…” and he peppered kisses over your jaw this time, “You, dollface, are worth much more than that…” his path continued upward before finally stopping at your lips for one final chaste kiss, “In fact, you…you’re getting what you’ve long deserved.” The big question of what that was popped into your head, yet Dabi left no time for you to ask it. Bruising kisses on your mouth were what you got instead, his nimble fingers pawing at your thighs and sliding up your sides. The whine that tried to escape you? Dabi drank it all in, taking your needy cries down to his lungs like it was the air he needed to live. Your hands flew everywhere on him: gripping his shirt, digging into his arms, cupping his face and even scratching at the back of his head when he bit down your neck again. It was delicious and almost too much, but god smite you if you didn’t want every second of it. Your baggy t-shirt was ripped from your body in simple seconds before Dabi latched onto your collarbone. Scarred hands palmed your breasts without hesitation, and the cool, steel staples only served to be enticing on your hot flesh - the threat of them potentially snagging your skin making you ever wetter.

“Fuuuuck, Dabiiii” moaned you, thighs fully spread now as his tongue lapped over a pert nipple. Your fingers were back in his hair now, tugging hard at the scruffy black locks. His low growl sent heat straight between your legs, “That’s right princess, make those sounds for me…” and he quickly switched to your opposite breast, gently rolling the sensitive bud between his teeth. You shoved at his coat, and practically ripped his shirt in two just to get him out of him; you didn’t miss the dark chuckle let out, whispering something about impatience and being needy before you shut him up with a kiss. You palmed the front of his pants, letting out a short gasp into his mouth at what you felt in your hand. The smirk was not missed in the slightest, “Big, isn’t it?”

Normally you’d roll your eyes at his cockiness, but all you could muster at this moment was a deep bite to your bottom lip. Trying to be nimble, your fingers ran for the buckle of his pants - and you did your best to scoot off the counter top. Dabi stopped you however, knowing right away what you were about to do, “Uh uh…there will be time for that another day” the rough tug of thumbs in the waistband of your panties caught your attention; it was now that Dabi made a point to lock eyes with you, predatory heat in those swirling tides, “If I don’t fuck you right fuckin’ now, I’m gonna fuckin’ combust.” You barely made it out of your panties before he was wrapping your legs around his waist and lifting you up. Your back connected with the closest wall, a one hungry flame villain pinning you against it with your thighs held firmly in his hands. He reached between your conjoined bodies for only a few seconds, the shudder in his breath alluding to you that he’s managed to pull his cock free from his pants. The confirmation: how heavy it sat pressed flat against your slit. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, and your breaths came in sputters - it was literally and figuratively, a lot for you to take in.

A pause. Hesitation almost.

With Dabi slated firm between your thighs, you expected him to simply take the plunge...and yet he stilled. He planted his hand strongly against the small of your back, using his weight and strength to keep you there - just above the last act before the bridge that separated you two from being “just friends” would fall to pieces. A hand came to your face, angling your head to the side with an uncharacteristic gentleness. Warm breath trickling over your skin, you felt the hushed command, “...Say you want this.” It was just above a whisper, and your mind being in the haze it was almost didn’t hear it...almost. You stuttered out, “Wh-What…?” He repeated, voice more firm as he said your name, “Say you want this...tell me you want me to fuck you. I won’t ask again.”

Your heart raced a mile a minute. But you already knew the answer.

“Yes, God, Dabi, yesss” you whined out, your thighs squeezing him closer. And that was all it took. Spread open wide for him, Dabi sunk deep within you, a hard groan rolling into your collarbone. Your hands wrapped around his head, holding onto him for dear life. His hips connected with yours slowly at first - allowing you to adjust as he stretched and filled you down to his balls. But the cry you let out when he finally slammed his hips up into you was the sound he loved the most. Thrust for thrust you took him, back scraping against the kitchen wall, rattling all odds and ends that hung nearby.

“Fuck, you feel so ungh, so fucking good.” Dabi says sharply, inhaling between grit teeth as he lends you a particularly hard thrust. Your pussy clenches at the desperation in his voice; masculine moans a symphony that sang down your body. He fucks up into you like you’ve never felt before, primal power oozing out of that lean body of his. All of your senses are ensnared by him and all you can think of in that moment is DabiDabiDabi. Unbeknownst to you, you’re spilling that same mantra from your lips like your life depended on it.

“Yeah, princess? Feel that good? Aghh fuck” he winces, the pain of your nails digging into his scalp mixing with the way your pussy grips him when you register his voice in your ear. He takes the shell of your earlobe between his teeth, moving both his hands now to come up under your ass. As Dabi forcefully ground your hips against his while he continued to pound into you, you couldn’t help but moan - heated pleasure was surging through your whole body. Your muscles tightened, the start of pressure building low in your belly.

“They could never satisfy you like this” he growled into your ear, “No man was ever good enough - no one will ever nghhfuck you like this,” he chuckled immediately after, tone low and dangerous in register, “You’re mine now, understand me?”

With an exasperated gasp you came undone. Electricity zipping through you from head to toe, tears finally spilling, soaking his cock completely as you came. “Fuck yess doll, that’s it, give me all of you,” he hissed, picking up the pace of his thrusts now. You loosened your vice grip on his hair - and that’s when you saw it. Dabi’s lids low as he still took you: eyebrows knitted in sheer pleasure, harsh pants accompanied by sharp grunts. But his eyes...his eyes held an adoration you’d never seen from him before. Soft pools of turquoise that swam in a haze of affection, of pure warmth and intimacy. He watched your flushed face twist in pleasure from your orgasm (simultaneously as he chased his own),

Dabi looked at you like he’d never seen anything more stunning.

“...S-Say my name, princess.” he stuttered out, grunts indicating he was close now.

“Dab-” “No. My real name.”

Your loins fluttered at the notion and you drew him in close. With a wanton moan, you let his ear have every letter, “Unghh, Touyaaa”

His hands gripped the fat of your ass as he damn near drilled an imprint of you into the wall.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckloveyouloveyoufuuuuckcummiiiing” And the sound of a choked gasp cut the air. Thick heat spilled inside of you, a feeling you moaned after as he filled you. You nearly felt yourself collapse onto him, but with the last of his strength, he pulled you both to the couch as you sat on top of him.

His words took a moment to settle with you. Did he…?

You looked up at him, you had to be sure. His head was thrown back, chest rising and falling as he fought to catch his breath.

“...You love me...don’t you”

It was said more as a statement than anything else, but the question was weaved into your words. His head came up for a moment, meeting your eyes quickly before closing his. He was vulnerable here, you knew this. You should’ve known - the way he stuck by your side and met you attitude for attitude. Your shoulder to lean on, your match made in hell. It couldn’t be helped…

“I didn’t think you were capable of love” you laughed softly, your fingers tracing over the scars on his cheeks. He snickered at that, pushing your head down for a quick, deep kiss.

“Only you, doll. It’s only ever been you.”

And boy did you feel finally seen.

[ifmywishescametrue]

and bc i have no self control. #41 kisses to shut them up for rhodeytony

So this one spiraled so quickly, because I also have no self control! And now it’s a 3.4k words of 5+1 for Rhodey and Tony’s first kisses together. Hope you like it :)

The first time is something of a joke. Tony is doing that rambling thing like always, hands moving around rapidly and coming dangerously close to smacking passersby in the face. He gets more than a few dirty looks for it, but he doesn’t seem to be noticing. Rhodey isn’t even sure what he’s ranting about anymore. Maybe one of his professors, or that annoying guy in his physics class. All he does know is that he wants to get to the cafeteria before they run out of pizza and Tony walks slow when he’s talking. So Rhodey grabs him by the wrist when his hand flies in front of him again, spinning him around and planting his lips firmly against Tony’s for just a moment. It does the job of stunning him into silence, but it also makes him freeze completely on the sidewalk. Rhodey keeps walking, and Tony has to run to catch back up. 

“What was that for?” Tony asks, eyes wide. 

Rhodey shrugs, “Had to shut you up somehow.”

Tony makes an offended squawking sound, hitting Rhodey with the too long sleeve of his sweatshirt. Rhodey’s sweatshirt, technically. 

“That’s rude,” Tony says. “You’re getting me ice cream to make it up to me.”

Rhodey laughs, slinging his arm over Tony’s shoulders to pull him along. “Whatever you want, Tones.”

______________

If the first was a joke, the second is just the repeat performance. Between Rhodey’s basic training and Tony’s recent and sudden rise to CEO, it’s been almost three months since the last time they’ve seen each other. Basic has him questioning everything and feeling like a bit of failure. He should have been able to handle it better. The homesickness, the pressure, the constant grind of work. It’s been the dream for so long that he doesn’t know what to do with the feeling he has now. 

“Maybe I should quit.”

Tony snorts inelegantly, “Pretty sure that’s called deserting and it’s a crime.”

“So I’ll go on the run,” Rhodey argues, like it’s a perfectly reasonable response. “I’ll move to Tahiti or Fiji or one of those other islands. Wait, you have a private island, right? I could go there, and if anyone comes for me, I’ll just take a rowboat out to sea, and they won’t have any jurisdiction on the water to arrest me. I’m pretty sure that’s a thing. Right? It’s -”

Tony’s lips are a little sticky from the beer he’s been drinking, and his hands are warm where they cup Rhodey’s cheeks. He doesn’t understand what’s happening or why, and at first he can’t think enough to react. When he can think again he can’t decide whether to push him off or kiss him back, and he still hasn’t reached a conclusion when Tony pulls away. He doesn’t know if it lasted two seconds or two minutes, and it’s confusing to realize that he isn’t sure which he would prefer. 

“Wow, that is effective,” Tony grins. “Thought maybe it was just me it works on, but I should try that on board members sometime if it’s that good.”

Rhodey gapes at him when he connects the pieces. “Seriously, Tony? That happened two years ago, and I’m in the middle of a crisis right now.”

"No, you were spiralling and now you’re not," Tony says simply. "Situation resolved by not talking about it."

"That's not how that works."

"Of course it is. How do you think most fires get put out? By putting a lid on them until they die."

"Alright, ignoring that that's not even true, what the hell does it even mean?" 

"It's very true, and what it means is that I have put a lid on this irrational fire, so it doesn't have the chance to spread and ignite the rest of your life. Containment, honeybear. It's about containment."

"That's a terrible analogy," Rhodey says, and Tony tosses his hands in the air. 

"What do you want from me on the spot?" 

They spend most of the night trying to come up with something better, laughing and drinking the rest of the beer in Tony's fridge, until Rhodey forgets that he was ever stressed in the first place.

______________

Their third kiss is an accident. It happens somewhere in between Rhodey deciding that he hates Tony's new boyfriend and him realizing exactly why that is. 

He comes back from six months overseas, and it's a few days ahead of what he was expecting. He told Tony Thursday, but his plane touches down in California on Tuesday morning, and he gives the taxi driver Tony's address without a second thought. Tony likes surprises, and he has no reason to think this might be a bad one. 

He uses his key to let himself in, fully knowing that Tony won't be awake yet to answer the door. The first traces of sun are just starting to filter in through the windows, and Rhodey sets his duffle bag down near the door before moving into the kitchen. Tony's refrigerator is nearly barren, but there are a few eggs and a green pepper that would be rotten by tomorrow that he can make due with. He finds an onion, too, and falls into a rhythm while dicing vegetables. 

It's this kind of thing that he misses when he's away. He misses having a kitchen and making what he wants in it, even if this isn't his kitchen or his first choice of food. But he misses the simplicity of it all. Life on the base seems alternate between too fast and too slow, but this is all his own pace. 

He hears footsteps on the stairs a little after the eggs hit the pan, and he glances over his shoulder to watch Tony shuffle into the room while rubbing his tired eyes. If he had stayed turned around a little longer, their third kiss wouldn't have happened at all. By the time Tony opens his eyes, Rhodey's back is to him again. 

Instead of instantly reacting, Tony slowly wanders over and puts his hand on Rhodey's shoulder. The words are mumbled when he says, "You're up way too early," and Rhodey doesn't have time to process how strange the sentence is, because he's being kissed the second his head turns. Not the shut up kind of kiss or even that sort of friendly peck he's seen people do sometimes. It's the kind where Tony's tongue is slipping between his lips, and his hand is wandering lower. The kind that friends don't share, but lovers definitely do. 

Rhodey falls into it without question. 

The spatula clatters to the floor from his hand, and Tony laughs into the kiss before pulling back. There's a grin and a joke on his lips that's quickly replaced by dawning horror. 

"Rhodey?" Tony squeaks out. His hand flies up to cover his mouth, and through it Rhodey hears, "Oh, shit." He looks down at the complete lack of space between their bodies, dropping the hand to raise them both in front of himself like a defense as he backs away a couple of steps. "Fuck, I'm so fucking sorry. I thought - you weren't supposed to be here yet. Thursday. That's - you said Thursday. Didn't you?" 

It's like ice water with how quickly the warmth of that kiss leaves his body. 

Rhodey raises an eyebrow and plays at unaffected. "I did, yeah. Seems like you should attack an intruder instead of kissing them, though." 

Tony's cheeks turn a vibrant shade of red, and he runs a still shaky hand through his hair.

"I thought you were someone else," he sheepishly admits. "It's just that from behind you, um, well you look a lot like Ryan, and he wasn't in bed still when I got up, so I came down here, and, uh, I guess you know the rest of that story." 

Ryan, Rhodey's mind bitterly repeats. The guy Tony's spent the last three months talking about on the phone and in his letters. It's always about him in some way.  He told me the funniest story yesterday, Rhodey or Isn't he so romantic, platypus? But Tony seems happy, so he fakes a laugh at a story that definitely isn't funny retold and agrees that string quartets are romantic instead of horribly cliché. He helps him plan dates when it's Tony's turn, because apparently that's yet another adorable thing they do together. 

He just barely suppresses the sigh before saying, "Don't worry about it, Tones. It's all good."

Tony looks relieved, and after an awkward minute or two they fall back into their normal conversation like it never happened. They talk about the missions Rhodey has flown for and the designs Tony has been working on between bites of burned eggs and coffee. 

Neither of them ever mention that Rhodey kissed him back. 

______________

Tony and Rhodey are both drunk for the fourth. The music is loud at the club, and the air is a smoky haze. It's someone's birthday, he thinks, but he can't really remember anymore by the fifth shot of tequila. 

He leans back against the bar on his elbows, watching in drunken amusement while Tony tries to put the moves on someone to hold up his end of the bet. The guy looks like he isn’t quite sure what’s happening, and Rhodey laughs into the rim of his glass. All he needs is one kiss, and Rhodey will be out the contents of his wallet. He isn't even sure what those contents are, and Tony wouldn't let him check before the handshake. It could be anywhere from a nickel to fifty bucks, he figures, which is worth it to watch this complete trainwreck. 

It takes another ten minutes of flirting before Tony finally gives up and comes back over to the bar. 

“Loser,” Rhodey teases. “What happened to having ‘game so good a straight man would fall to his knees?’”

Tony flips him off and steals the glass from his hand. “He has a girlfriend, which is the only reason it didn’t happen.”

“He didn’t even realize that you were flirting with him, did he?” Rhodey laughs, and Tony pouts pitifully. 

“The no touching rule wasn’t fair.”

“A good bet doesn’t involve actual harassment,” Rhodey reasons, just like he did earlier in the night. “If you can’t get them to kiss you by flirting with just words, they wouldn’t want you touching them in the first place. It’s called consent.”

Tony rolls his eyes, “I do not need to be taught about consent. I am the king of consent. Enthusiastic, resounding consent, even.” He pauses, and there’s a dangerous look in his eyes when he narrows them at Rhodey. “Okay, I know that this about to go against everything I just said, but it’s you, and we don’t have rules, right?”

“What?”

“Just say yes.”

“Yes to what?”

Tony leans in with enough time that if Rhodey really wanted to, he could pull away. He could put his hand over Tony’s mouth or step to the side or simply tell him no and Tony wouldn’t do it. 

But he doesn’t do any of those things. 

He lets Tony cup the back of his neck to tilt his head to the right angle, and he threads his hand into Tony’s hair in return. His lips taste like the vodka and cranberry juice from the stolen glass, until Rhodey has kissed him so thoroughly that he can’t taste it anymore. 

“There,” Tony says, grinning proudly like he’s just done something exceptionally smart. His breath is coming quickly, and Rhodey’s head is spinning with the thought that he’s the one that did that to him. “I got a straight man to kiss me. Pay up.”

Rhodey laughs, full-bodied with his head tilted back. “No, man. You definitely didn’t.”

Tony’s still a little too drunk to fully understand what he means by that, and he takes it as if Rhodey’s saying that he stole the kiss, rather than earned it. He spends most of the night after that trying to get him to kiss him again on his own accord, but Rhodey doesn’t want another one like that. He wants Tony’s soft-eyed gaze on him, and his body held tight in his arms. He wants to hear him say the same words he’s saying right now, but to have him actually mean it when he says the word please. Like he won’t be able to live for another second without Rhodey’s lips on his. 

He doesn’t want the joke anymore, but he knows he won’t ever get to have the real thing. 

______________

Rhodey is half asleep for kiss number five, and he isn’t even quite sure that it actually happens. He’s lying in a hospital bed somewhere in Germany, he thinks, and machines are beeping all around him. He can’t really remember what brought him here as he drifts in and out. There was some kind of fight - that much is obvious. He sees flashes of bullets in the sky, flames, and a rapidly plummeting altitude reading. Was it a mission gone wrong? An attack they weren’t expecting? One of the machines ticks a little faster when he tries to clear his head enough to think about it, and then darkness takes over again. 

When he partially wakes the next time, there’s something warm and solid in his hand. It shifts a little, brushing lightly in circles over his skin, and it takes him a longer amount of time than it should to realize that it’s another hand. But when he does, he knows without a doubt who it belongs to, and the thought sends him back into sleep with a warm feeling in his chest. 

He finds out later that he was unconscious for three days, and Tony hardly leaves his side for a minute of it. Rhodey doesn’t want to say how that makes him feel, so he falls back on what he does know how to say. 

“You should really at least go back to the hotel to take a shower. You’re starting to smell, man,” he says after the doctor leaves the room. 

Tony gives him a weak laugh, running his hand through his hair and grimacing at the oily texture. "Maybe in a little bit. You just woke up."

Rhodey shifts against the pillows, tilting his head to get a good look at him. His clothes might be the same ones he showed up here in, all wrinkled with a coffee stain on one of his sleeves. The circles under his eyes are darker than he's ever quite seen them before, and he looks too pale. 

Tony isn't supposed to look like that. 

He's supposed to be sunlight embodied, all tanned skin and bright eyes and fluid motion. But this Tony is slumped over in his chair, small and fragile looking like the wrong word could destroy him completely. This Tony offers him a brave face and a delicate smile that doesn't reach his eyes, and Rhodey can't stand it. Can't stand that it's his own fault he looks like that. 

Stretching his arm out, he turns over his hand to open his palm. The movement tugs at his injured shoulder, but he grits his teeth to hide the pain and it's worth it to have Tony's hand back in his where it belongs. He squeezes gently, and Tony squeezes back. 

"You almost died," Tony whispers. "You're not allowed to die."

"I won't do it again," Rhodey says, even though they both know he can't make that promise. 

Tony nods, and for now that can be enough. He switches the topic to something else so they don't have to talk about it anymore. So Tony doesn't have to say what the last three days felt like, and Rhodey doesn't have to admit that his last thought before the plane went down was regret that he'd never get to have this again. 

Tony makes him laugh until his battered ribs are aching with it, until they've talked about everything and nothing and sleep is pulling at Rhodey again. It's hard to keep his eyes open, and he fights it until he can't any longer. 

A hand runs over his hair, and down the side of his face to linger on his cheek. Rhodey leans into the touch with closed eyes as Tony murmurs, "I'll come back tomorrow. Don't you dare do anything stupid like dying while I'm gone."

He feels the warmth of Tony's breath on his skin the moment before Tony kisses him. It's a barely there, wisp of a thing, right on the corner of his mouth. There one instant, then gone the next. It's the last thing he feels before slipping into sleep again. 

______________

“I’m so old,” Tony groans, flopping down on the beach chair next to Rhodey’s. “Ancient. Decrepit. On death’s door.”

“You’re thirty,” Rhodey says, and he laughs at the pout on Tony’s face. “I’m a year older than you. What does that make me then?”

“A senior citizen, just like me.”

Rhodey lifts his beer from where the bottle was balancing in the sand and clinks it with the bottle in Tony’s hand. “Welcome to the club then. We’re happy to have you.”

Tony kicks off his shoes and tucks his feet under his thighs as he settles back in the chair. It’s quiet out here on the beach, away from the crowds and noise from the party. The crashing of the waves and the distant thrum of music are the only sounds, and they watch the water in the still of the night for a while. 

“Don’t you want to get back to the party?” Rhodey asks softly, unwilling to break their bubble of peace. “It’s for you.”

Tony shakes his head. “I like it better out here.”

“Want me to kick everyone out for you?”

Tony looks over his shoulder at the house, filled to the brim and lights flashing from every window. He leans over the inch between their chairs and rests his head on Rhodey’s shoulder. “No, they can have their fun in there, and I can have mine here.”

Rhodey cards his hand through Tony’s hair, feeling warm despite the cool breeze. “This is fun for you, huh? Sitting in silence?”

“It’s always good with you,” Tony murmurs, so quiet that Rhodey almost loses it to the ocean. He’ll always be thankful that he didn’t. 

He lets his hand go lower, slipping from his hair to run his thumb along Tony’s jaw, and it would be so easy, he thinks, to kiss him right now. To tilt Tony’s chin up and turn his head to the side just a little. To brush their lips together, slowly at first, then steadily growing more desperate as he gives in to everything he’s wanted for so long. He thinks of the way Tony would sound, if he would sigh or moan or whimper under his mouth. Tony would be sticky sweet from the buttercream on the cupcakes from earlier, and Rhodey would taste sugar on his tongue. 

“Rhodey,” Tony whispers, looking up at him. The moon is reflected in the deep brown of his eyes, and Rhodey wants to keep this image of him in him in his mind forever. “Can I tell you what I wished for?”

“Won’t come true if you do,” Rhodey whispers back. 

“I think it’s the only way it might,” Tony answers, and he seems even closer than he was before. 

“What did you wish for?”

Tony’s cheeks are flushed, and Rhodey thinks for a moment that he’s going to lose his nerve to say whatever it is. He’s ready for the joke instead, but it never comes. 

“For you to kiss me,” Tony says with an unsteady breath. “For it to mean something when you do.”

Rhodey slides his hand a little higher, and he strokes across Tony’s cheekbone. He doesn’t miss the way that Tony’s eyes flicker down to his lips. “And what do you want it to mean?”

“Everything.”

“Everything,” Rhodey repeats, and Tony smiles, soft and unsure. “I think I can manage that.”

______________

Years later, Tony still likes to tease Rhodey about their first kiss, except now it's become their thing. The interrupted sentences sometimes get finished after and sometimes don't because kissing Tony is more important than whatever it was that he had to say in the first place. 

He loses count of what number they’re on. One thousand or one million, it could never be enough. They have all kinds of kisses now. Early morning, sleep-hazed kisses, and quick, little pecks on the way out the door. Good night kisses that turn passionate and desperate as often as they stay innocent and sweet. Reluctant ones when Tony is mad at him for something silly, lingering ones in apology. 

Each one still means everything.

[ladyeliot]

I got you.

Request: Anonymous. Hello there, first of all I love your way of writing, the fics are great! Could I send you an request? Maybe the reader and Chris met again after the pandemic, they have an unfinished relationship and she realizes that she still loves him. Don't worry if you don't feel like it, thanks a lot! 

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader

Warning: Mentions of anxiety and the pandemic. A little angst.

Word count: 2687

Notes: Sorry for taking so long! And for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

There had been so many times when you had imagined yourself growing old with him in that house that you didn't know how to deal with the situation right now. You were in Massachusetts, inside your car, standing in front of his house, without any warning and without knowing how he would react when he saw you after so many months.

You and Chris had a history, a short but passionate history that lasted two and a half years as an established couple and one year with comings and goings. The reason for the break-up was not the end of the love, but the time. The time you spent apart was longer than the time you spent together, your work was not very compatible with his, and although you both did your best to overcome it, it was not enough. Even so, after the friendly break-up the relationship didn't end completely, let's say it never had a point and end, becoming friends with benefits, and it was something that didn't seem to matter to you. However, there was a conversation going on between you, and although neither of you named it, that conversation was present. Every time you coincided for a short period of days everything happened except that conversation, and without it neither of you could evolve, neither of you could have freedom. You felt that you were still bound, and you both knew it.

The global pandemic did not benefit your situation, while he stayed in Boston with his family, you flew home. At first everyone thought that the situation would be resolved in a couple of months at most, but as time went on the problem became bigger. The months passed, the pandemic became uncontrollable and everyone stopped their lives. Your contact with Chris was not lost, but it weakened, there were too many things to think about and the constant fear that something might happen to a loved one made you anxious, and your priorities were elsewhere.

As time went by you discovered to value the little things in life, perhaps because of the pandemic. You realized what really mattered, what made you happy and what you were willing to fight for in your day-to-day life. Chris was one of those things. Your life with him was not perfect, like nothing else in this life, but the positives outweighed the negatives. Confinement allowed you to meditate, to consider how you wanted your future to be and to discover that the important thing was to live in the moment, because you never know what is going to happen. It was clear that during the pandemic you couldn't fight for what you wanted, nor take a plane and fly to where he was, but things would slowly come back to normal, and it would be time to make an important decision.

As you had predicted, light began to appear at the end of the tunnel. Things were relaxing again, taking on a new normalcy and you had to start to take up your old life again. Conversations with Chris had increased over the last few months, you had too much to say but it was a bit difficult for both of you to put it on the screen, so in the end you always ended up talking nonsense and getting a laugh out of each other. Maybe that was what you liked best about him, that he managed to make you smile even in your worst moments. It was comforting to discover that he was well, that he had overcome, with his more and with his less, that period and that your feelings towards him had not changed.

It was obvious that you were back to your routine, and that meant that work would barely let you take a break. The New York company had not dealt with the COVID crisis very well and the situation was quite alarming. You barely had time to reconnect with your friends, as you set foot in New York City hundreds of business problems fell upon you. Stress was trapping you, preventing you from even sleeping at night, and all you needed was to escape from that environment because your head was going to explode. You were told that several trips were planned to discuss the impact the pandemic had had on various locations around the country, and you felt an immediate relief when you were told, unless you could get away from the centre of the bomb.

Your destination was even more comforting, as it was barely 30 kilometres from your previous residence with Chris. The plane left for Boston first thing in the morning, the sky had not yet awakened and you chose to rest your eyes for the 60 minutes that the journey took. You hadn't spoken to him for the last two weeks, basically since you arrived in New York, when he called you, you were in business meetings and always came home in the early hours of the morning, falling into bed. That was your life, quite complicated to complement with external factors.

The meeting with the Boston headquarters was not too negative, which got you to relax and send good news to your company. The most positive factor you brought out is that you had finished early enough to do what you had in mind since you discovered your trip to Boston. You borrowed a car from your company and set off for the house where you had lived for almost two years. You didn't know if he would be there when you arrived or if it would be completely empty, but you erased those thoughts from your mind and just drove.

You knew the route perfectly, you used to do it every morning. It was nice to rediscover the variety of colours that those little forests could have during the autumn. You lowered the window so that the wind would fill the interior of the car, producing extreme relief in you, relaxing every limb and freeing your mind from any stressful event. That's all you wanted during the long, final months of your life. It took you just over 30 minutes to reach your destination, and when you were there the world around you came to a standstill. It had been so long since you had been in front of each other that a little worry had formed inside you.

You assumed that naturalness was the best way to deal with such a situation, so you chose to get out of the car and face what might happen. You analysed the outside of the house, there was no car in the driveway, no sign of anyone inside, but a very familiar voice, along with some barking, guided you to the back of the garden. A wistful look on your face, and your smile widened when you discovered that Dodger, hearing the rustling of leaves under your feet, had noticed you. From the distance he headed towards you at great speed, causing Chris to fix his gaze on you. As usual, Dodger lunged at you, causing you to fall backwards into the wet grass, but you were used to that.

The next few minutes hundreds of emotions met in the air. The reunion with Chris was silent, but many things were said through the eyes. First came the nervous smiles, then the excited look and then the hugs.

"It's been so long since I've hugged you... that I've forgotten how it feels to be hugged by you," he whispered those words in your ear and made you tremble, wishing that the embrace would never end.

There were no questions between the two of you, no "What are you doing here" or "Why did you come here", you didn't need an answer to either of them, you wanted to focus on the moment. You went back into that house, for the first time in a long time, accompanied by a Dodger that was fully seeking your attention and that almost prevented you from walking.

"Let's go, buddy! Let Y/N in the house," he said trying to catch him. "Oh, he just ignores me. I'm sorry you'll have to manage on your own. He has chosen, very smart."

Chris' comment made you show a sweet smile as Dodger tried to lick your whole face as you crouched at his height.

"I've missed you too, sweetie," you said, standing up as you could.

You headed inside the house, where Chris was watching you with a tender expression on his face. As you entered, a warmth and that unmistakable aroma of Chris was in the air. It was a mixture between the smell of wood from the fireplace and his fragrance. That caused your senses to come together and create a familiarity in you. You looked around curiously, quickly analysing every corner, Chris waited while you checked.

"It's all the same," you said in a soft tone smiling at him.

"Yep," he replied in the same soft tone. "Will you stay for dinner with us?"

You showed him a smile as you slowly nodded. "That sounds great."

You knew you had one night before your plane back to New York left the next day. There was too much to do and too much to say for just one night, and neither of you were likely to start that conversation, you were experts at it.

Both of you got down to work in the kitchen, as if you were back in the past. Neither of you were experts in that field, but you used to let yourselves go. Dodger, calmer, took a seat in his basket and watched you with curiosity.

"Beer?" asked Chris, approaching you with a bottle.

"Thank you," you took it and took a little drink, imitating him.

The situation was common, two people cooking, but for you it was not at all common where you were. Chris was a person who did not hide his emotions, and you had seen this during the time you had spent together. In the relationship it was much harder for you to express what you were feeling, but at that moment it was perhaps not too much for you to be back in your old home, with the man you had loved, after a year of not seeing each other and having a relationship that was not quite closed.So you finally put down the knife you were cutting onions with and threw yourself away, knowing that everything could go wrong.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here?" You frowned softly and looked at him.

Chris was caught off guard by the question, as he watched you and arched his eyebrows, while leaning against the refrigerator.

"Okay," he nodded across his arms. "Why are you here?

You remained pensive, you had gone into the lion's den, because even you did not know very well how to answer that question. Why were you there? You opened your lips to look for a coherent explanation, but nothing. Chris was waiting for the answer, but he realised that you didn't know what to say, so he approached you. "It's okay," he said, taking a lock of your hair and putting it behind his ear.

"No," you frowned. "It's not okay."

"What do you mean?" he asked curiously, returning to his previous position.

"To us," you pointed. "I don't know if it's right what we're doing to each other.”

"What are we doing to each other?" he asked gently, trying to get you to express what was on your mind.

"This," you raised your voice a little. "We didn't finish. We have no end..."

"That's why you came," he crossed his arms at a considerable distance. "To put an end to it?"

You asked yourself if you had come to that, and the answer was obvious, no, you had not come to that.

"No", you whispered looking into his eyes, then you put your hand to your face. "God, this is too complicated."

"Hey...", he came up to you again and took his hand away from your face. "If it wasn't complicated it wouldn't be us."

Those were the truest words he had ever said. You both had a magnet for complicated situations and were the first to try to deal with them.

"Try to tell me why you came here," he kindly insisted again. "I have a clear idea, but I need you to confirm it.

You remembered how you felt when you got there, when you drove there, when you discovered that the business trip was taking you to Boston, where he was. All your happiness in those days was for him. During the pandemic you told yourself that you needed a change in your life, that many things had been lost because of your previous priorities, and your mood had also changed.

"I have come... ", you sighed, emptying your lungs and taking in air again. "I'm here... During the pandemic, I realized what really makes me happy, how things can change from one day to the next and that you have to fight for what you want." You felt a little embarrassed. "God..."

Chris knew how complex everything was for you, that you only extracted your sentimental feelings and thoughts when you were angry and had an argument, so that was a big effort.

"Please Y/N, continue", he gave you a soft smile.

"In short..." you started.

"No, don't summarize", Chris cut you off with a little laugh, which relaxed you.

"Okay," you leaned against the kitchen island and took a breath of air. "It's simple, I've decided that I want to be happy, and you make me happy.”

When you released that sentence you felt an inner relief, you freed yourself from a great weight that had been with you for a long time, and now Chris had everything in his hands. The next ten seconds were the longest of your life, you waited to see Chris' reaction, who was just a few meters away looking at you with a little smile on his face, that you didn't know how to take it.

"Well?" you whispered expectantly. "Are you planning to say something?"

The smile on Chris' face widened and he slowly took a step towards you to shorten the distance, standing face to face, finding you between the kitchen island and his body. He didn't say anything, it was what he did that made you realize his opinion. He stretched out his arms to take your face in his hands and approached you very slowly to kiss your lips. Your heart gave a return when you felt him so close to you again, testing his taste on your lips again, rediscovering the touch of his beard. A bark from Dodger came in the moment, but you barely noticed the event, as you were too busy meeting again.

You split up by cutting off the kiss and frowning.

"Wait. You haven't said anything, what do you think?"

"Come on honey, isn't it obvious?"

You arched an eyebrow waiting, Chris rolled his eyes and caught you sitting on the kitchen counter, you being taller than him.

"You're going to make me say it," he said, looking at your smile. "If I tell you that I love you, so that I can kiss you again and then later develop the answer, will that help?”

Those were the things you loved about him.

"It depends on the kiss."

Chris soon had you in his hands again, more firmly than the previous time. You let yourselves go forgetting everything around you, as if you wanted to make up for all the lost time, all the time apart. Chris lifted you off the counter again and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

"I got you," he whispered against your lips.

"You've always got me."

Tag list: @imerdwarf @mycosmicparadise @lavendertales

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MAIN MASTERLIST

[ladykissingfish]

Movie Night with the Akatsuki

Pein

This was another of his ideas, to promote a sense of bonding within his lil group of killers. The Pein-body accompanies Konan to the grocery to buy the snacks and drinks they need (but only non-alcoholic beverages, because alcohol tends to make a lot of the others angry and erratic and Himself-knows that these people are ALREADY plenty of angry and erratic). Everything is paid for out of his own pocket, not so much from a sense of generosity as a means to keep Kakuzu from going ballistic over what he’d call “frivolous expenses”. Pein(Nagato) personally has no solid preferences when it comes to films, although he tends to favor flicks with fast-paced plots and a bit of intrigue.

Konan

Konan is more into the idea of a group movie night than the others had anticipated. She takes the time to set up the chips, popcorn, dips, drinks, and candy neatly on the table (which is really a bit of a waste, as all the boys just shovel food into their mouths like animals anyway), and she makes the schedule for movie times diplomatically; everyone gets to pick one movie for everyone to watch ((should be noted that “movie night” technically is movie night(s) as it takes several evenings to get through everyone’s picks)), and who goes first is decided by games of rock-paper-scissors. Her personal movie preference is 80’s teen romance movies; she adores Molly Ringwald and the others have heard her recite lines, verbatim, from Sixteen Candles more times than they can count. She also likes to turn movie night into a half-spa day, sitting in her chair and combing her hair, putting special mud-masks on her face, buffing and re-painting her finger and toe-nails. Several of the Akatsuki members join in her rituals, allowing her to style their hair ((Deidara)) or moisturize their skin ((Kisame)).

Kakuzu

The old guy is, perhaps unsurprisingly, a fan of old movies. He’s seen (and can give detailed lectures on) every Hitchcock film known to man. His favorite of these (and the one he picks to watch most frequently) is Rear Window; it tickles him to no end how the antagonist of the film “almost gets away with such a sloppy murder; if he had done it like THIS —“. The others think these movies are too slow-paced and reeeaaaally boring, but Kakuzu doesn’t care. Hidan likes to tease him with “of course the ancient fuck likes these movies; he was probably a kid when they were made!” His preferred movie-watching spot is in an easy chair, with the footrest up and a can of mixed nuts on his lap. 9/10 will fall asleep before the movie ends and the others will hurry and change it to one of theirs before he wakes up and notices.

Kisame

Always says he’s not the biggest fan of movies, but will watch whatever the others are watching. Although he says this it’s clear that he enjoys comedy movies the most; the others can’t help but smile when hearing his deep guffaws over anything with Adam Sandler in it. The Waterboy in particular made him laugh so hard that he cried. Likes to sit on the couch in-between Itachi and Konan. Doesnt really care for the snacks that the others have, so will make maybe 5-6 boxes of fish sticks and munch on those the whole evening.

Deidara

Should be no surprise that the guy really, really likes action movies. His favorite series is Die Hard, and every time it’s his turn to pick a film, he’ll pick one of the movies from this franchise. Does the absolute worst John McClane impression, but nobody can point this out without getting a little exploding birdie tossed at their head. He and Tobi are the biggest snack-eaters of the bunch, and he has to have his own bowl of popcorn as he’s banned from the community bowl ((his habit of swallowing popcorn with his hand-mouths weirds out the others to no end)). His favorite sitting position is cross-legged on the floor, usually in front of Konan so she can style/play with with his hair (which he finds really relaxing, the way a child might be soothed by his mother brushing his hair). However he’ll jump up frequently to act out his favorite scenes from the movie, which the others get annoyed by (but are so used to that that don’t really put up too much of a fuss).

Hidan

Hidan is a freak for horror movies. The gorier, the more depraved, the better. If it was anyone other than the Akatsuki watching these movies with him, they would likely be horrified at how the white-haired immortal laughs hysterically at brutal murders. As it is, even this group has a hard time stomaching some of the stuff Hidan likes to watch; Tobi had to lift his mask and vomit on the floor the first time Hidan brought Cannibal Holocaust out to play. Can sometimes be convinced to pick an action movie instead, although it’s very rare. Likes to manspread on the second couch and will munch on a jumbo-sized bag of sour cream and onion chips the whole night.

Sasori

Really into documentaries, and if that wasn’t bad ((boring)) enough, it’s almost always foreign documentaries, so everyone is forced to squint at subtitles for two-three hours. His absolute favorite is a film called Grey Gardens, a 1970’s documentary about two eccentric, aging socialites, and the groans from the other members when he puts this on can be heard clear across the country. Hidan wants to know why he’s “obsessed with two old cunts and their hundred cats” but all Sasori will do is shush him and stare, rapt, at the screen, silently mouthing the words to the picture he knows so well. Of course he doesn’t eat or drink, so he doesn’t take part in the snacks; however will occasionally bring a puppet out with him and slowly work on it during the movies ((but only the others’ movies, as he lays completely and undivided attention to his own)). Like Deidara he prefers to sit on the floor, and will literally growl at anyone who gets too close to his personal space.

Tobi/Obito

As Obito, he would prefer to watch romantic movies. This guy could live off of the flicks they show on the Hallmark channel, and is an absolute sucker for 80’s rom-coms. However, as Tobi, he must do what everyone expects of him, and pick an animated, cartoon, or family-friendly live action movie. In one year the Akatsuki as been made to sit through what must be the entire catalog of Disney and Pixar films. He does the best possible rendition of The Little Mermaid’s “Poor Unfortunate Souls” song, so good and so evilly realistic that it actually gives the others goosebumps; especially at the end when he starts laughing maniacally — it’s like his voice changes completely. They’re also witness to Tobi’s massive breakdowns over anything that depicts a sad or hurt animal. One time Hidan brought home Old Yeller for him, told him it was about a dog “who was a good boy” ... and let the chaos ensue. Likes to sit on the floor next to Deidara (until he gets on the blonde’s nerves and is made to move) and dig into whatever candy is available. Will go to bed with a horrible sugary stomach ache if not properly monitored.

Itachi

Itachi really likes crime-based movies, especially ones depicting an intelligent main character carrying out equally intelligent crimes. He’s tried to get the others to watch The Godfather series with him, but they can only make it through the first hour or so before complaining about how slow-paced it is. His next favorite thing to watch is Taxi Driver, which the others find more tolerable; he mentions all the time how much he “gets” Travis Bickle and his deteriorating mindset. Itachi likes to sit curled up in a blanket at the very end of the couch, sipping sweet tea or hot chocolate and eating dango (if they have it; ice cream if not).

Zetsu

It depends on which Zetsu you’re talking to. White Zetsu likes science fiction movies. He’s made the others watch Alien more times than they can count, and always declares Sigourney Weaver to be his “dream girl”. Black Zetsu, however, is similar to Hidan in that he prefers monstrously gory horror movies, particularly ones from the 70’s and 80’s. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is his go-to, and he likes to say that in anther life, he and Leatherface would have made good Akatsuki partners. If they were watching movies by themselves, their snack of choice would be fresh human entrails. However, as this (understandably) sickens the others, they will stick to a lot of leafy greens/salads.

[valwrite]

the bella-vista avenue book club; daveed diggs

masterlist

summary: if only she’d double checked her Amazon shopping cart, Y/N L/N wouldn’t find herself torn between what book to give her hot neighbor next.

warnings: fluff, cheesiness, a slither of smut, mentions of a car accident, cooper is a basic dog name, i know but stfu about it.

fic style: oneshot.

word count: 6455.

author’s note: this fic took way too long to write, bye. no but for real, i’ve been back in uni for one month and so far i’ve: done way too many assignments; had more breakdowns than a disney child star; had a covid scare; and spontaneously dyed my hair dark blue/green at 4am instead of finishing an essay. we’re doing well, folks :)

It took exactly twenty one days for the loneliness to kick in.

On the day the lockdown was first announced, Y/N L/N felt the most confusing sentiment of relief and fear blended together. She'd spent just about the whole day in the meeting from Hell, during which three people had stormed out of after countless shouting matches had broken out and her boss had blatantly fired one of the guys from her department, right in front of everyone. When she did eventually get out of said meeting- a whole two hours later than her usual work days ended -, she was struggling with an impending migraine, threatening to blur her eyesight the whole drive home. She arrived home safely that evening, by the force of some miracle, only to find countless texts from relatives and friends alike, detailing the quarantine announcement and all the rules that came with it. Though concerned over the state of the world battling against the rapidly spreading virus, Y/N was just glad there would be no meetings for a while.

Quarantine was exciting at first. In the normal day-to-day life she lead, Y/N often found herself falling short on time to do things she truly enjoyed. There was just always one more task needing done at work; one more errand to complete; one more mile to run. By the time she stepped into her home come the end of the day, her eyelids were always battling to stay opened. So, it was very fair to say that the sudden infinite amount of free time had her feeling rather excited.

Day two and she'd already set herself a list of goals to spend all this time on, a chance to do all the things her schedule got in the way of. Of course, with the situation at hand, all these goals were modified to be achievable from within the confines of her home. The first goal she achieved was knitting a sweater. Granted, it was a mess she'd ended up trying to turn into a dog sweater only to watch as her fur-baby, Cooper, chewed it into rags.

There was no goal on the list to be good at all those goals.

In the following weeks, Y/N found herself trying her hand at pottery - she both made and broke a mug -, baking - the first cake burned but the second she made was actually pretty edible -, guitar playing - it really was just like riding a bike: one never really forgets how to do it - and many other hobbies. In between finding her artistic calling in life, it seemed family quiz nights became the norm.

But twenty one days, that's when she finally took notice of just how lonely living had become for her. A full twenty one days of not having made eye contact with anyone outside of a screen or who happened to not own four paws and a tail.

The loneliness wasn't unique to her, she was very aware. But she was stuck quarantining in a house all by herself, hours away from any of her family and she knew it was going to be a fair while before she even spoke with someone face to face. Much longer than most people. She was still at the point where even bringing up the thought of going to the store- with a trusted mask on, of course - would send her mother into a spiral of worse case scenarios and her father would be threatening to call her doctor.

As neurotic as the two could be about her health, Y/N completely understood their reactions. Things had never really been the same since her accident, even with the years gone by.

She was sat on her sofa- well, actually, sat on her floor, with her back against the sofa - when the door bell rang. She was up at lighting speed, bounding her way over to the front of the house before peaking a look through the peep hole and finding no one there. Unfazed by this, she unlocked the door and pulled it open to unveil a package at her doorstep, the ever familiar Amazon logo splashed across it. In the past few weeks, the delivery service and her bank account had become well acquainted, with most of her new found hobbies being aided by it.

In a matter of seconds, she'd picked up the package, shut the door and made her way into her kitchen, a drawer being pulled open as she dug through it for a pair of scissors. The package was ripped up and there she found a sight she wasn't awaiting, her eyes widening ever so slightly and a "Huh." noise escaping her.

There, laying on the remaining cardboard package, sat a hardback copy of A Tale Of Two Cities. And right next to it sat an identical copy, both of them staring up at Y/N.

“This can't be right, right?” She proposed the question down at Cooper, who'd at some point sauntered in to the kitchen and sat down at her feet, his tail wagging lazily upon being spoken to.

Sure enough, when she checked her receipt online, there was only one copy on the list. She wondered if it was perhaps a “buy one, get one free” kind of deal but quickly found no evidence to back up her hypothesis.

Thinking of what the right thing to do would be, Y/N on instinct began to investigate how she could possibly return the additional book they'd sent to her. As she came to the realization that it would entail her having to return both books and, then, waiting once again for a copy to be sent to her, she changed her mind instantly. A few other solutions came to mind: she could mail it to her sister-in-law, she was just as much of a book worm as Y/N; or she could keep it until the next time she needs a birthday present for someone; or she could just keep both of the copies, even if it felt a little wasteful.

It was only later on that very evening, as Y/N chopped away at some onions and was struggling to contain her tears- she had a spoon in her mouth because her mother swore it stopped you from crying, spoiler: it did not -, that the perfect idea struck.

In the corner of her eye she spotted him, strolling about his own kitchen. He hadn't lived next door for very long, he'd only moved in at the very start of the year, if she remembered correctly. And though they had never really spoken or interacted- polite waves and stiff smiles when spotting one another either leaving or arriving home wasn't exactly very conversational after all-, Y/N couldn't help but decide he was going to be the honorary recipient of the book. After all, what was the worst that could happen? Well, he could use the book to keep his fireplace alight, but Y/N was more eager to just think optimistically about it.

With her mind firmly made up, she neatly wrapped the book in some stray wrapping paper she'd found in her junk drawer and tied a neat, makeshift bow around it. His doorstep was only a couple feet from her own and it wasn't long till she was stood right in front of it, finger hovering over the doorbell as she wrestled with the thought off handing the present directly to him. She recalled one night, where her bedroom curtains had been wide open to let in the moonlight, and he'd walked past his own bedroom window, nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. The image of water dripping down those defined abs made her mind up and she placed the wrapped book next to his door, the little note she'd written taped on to it carefully.

Happy housewarming! I hope you're taking care during these trying time! - Y/N, your neighbor from door 27. p.s. Cooper (the German Shepherd) says sorry for peeing in your flowers :(

A few days later, as Y/N and Cooper arrived home from their daily walk, a mysterious package sat on the doorstep. What made it mysterious was the fact it wasn't from Amazon, nor from her local grocery store either. Cooper possessed no hesitation and dashed over to investigate, his tail beginning to wag as Y/N approached the front door.

“What is it, Coops?” She crouched down, her hand rubbing over the top of his head as his tongue dangled out of his mouth. There was a small piece of paper stuck on the package and, at first, she wondered if perhaps her attempt at a kind gesture had backfired and the hot neighbor had just dropped it back off. Then, she read the note. “Housewarming? Took you a while. This Dickens guy's good, hope he finally get's some popularity soon. - Daveed, your neighbor from door 28.” A smile crept onto her face as she learnt his name. It felt nice on her lips. His calligraphy skills only made the name look prettier. “P.S. check this book out, author is a real hidden gem. P.S.S. tell Cooper it's chill, I got my revenge and peed in his flowers.”

It was there on her doorstep, with a thin layer of sweat decorating her face and a tired out dog at her feet, that Y/N upgraded Daveed from hot neighbor to hot and funny neighbor.

It was almost like an otherworldly sign when Y/N stumbled over a chew toy the next day, her whole body slamming right into her bookcase and out from it fell a book, smacking her right on her head to add yet another bruise on to her list. Her mother had always joked that she bruised easier than a peach, partially on account of her incapability to walk five paces without stumbling over air or slipping on dry ground.

She let out a groan, her hand rubbing at the spot the book hit her and she reached down to grab her attacker- which lay face down - off of the floor. The cover turned out to be that of The Great Gatsby and the sudden urge to wrap it up, attach a note and drop it over at Daveed's doorstep became overwhelming. It still felt so personal to know his name.

Was she seriously about to use a book as an excuse to try catch a glimpse of her hot neighbor, who just yesterday was claiming to have peed on her flowers? Yes, yes she was. Because, after all, he was hot. And if society had taught her anything, it was that hot people were excused of everything. Okay, perhaps she was exaggerating just a little bit but it all added up to the same thing: Daveed was hot and she was thirsty.

Maybe quarantine really was beginning to have an effect on her.

A few hours later, Y/N was comfortably snuggled under her blankets in bed, the room illuminated by nothing but her television screen and the streetlights outside. A door opened somewhere, her anxious brain questioning if it was one of her own doors but the sudden laughter she could hear changed her train of thought quickly.

Oh my god, his laugh was music to her ears. And, oh my god, she'd actually made him laugh.

She lay back, wondering which part of her note had made Daveed laugh as consciousness slowly slipped away from her. One house away, her hot and funny neighbor was near mirroring her position in his own bed, his head replaying the note he'd received from the cute girl next door.

Not too sure about this author, he seems to have a fetish for big feet! I'm beginning to question exactly what kind of weird foot erotica you read, Daveed from door 28! -Y/N, your foot hating neighbor. P.S. this guy definitely needs more clout, can't you just picture his writing being used to teach the younger generations? P.S.S. Cooper isn't happy about you peeing in his flowers but he is happy about the treats.

Two days later, in the morning, Y/N was sat at her kitchen island. Her computer lay open in front of her, untouched for the past half hour as she flipped through the pages of her book and sipped away at the smoothie she'd blended up for herself. Cooper lay sound asleep under her seat, the occasional snore coming from the pup. It was those moments in her quarantine that she enjoyed most, just pure tranquility. It took her mind off of the loneliness.

A feeling overcame her, as the hairs on the back of her neck began to rise. It was almost like she could feel someone's eyes on her. She tore her own eyes away from the printed text and checked her surroundings vaguely. It was only when she looked straight ahead, out of the window that she spotted the intrusive stare of his.

They were sat in near parallel, him also sat at his kitchen island with a computer opened, only he had a mug of coffee instead of a smoothie. When their eyes made contact, he grinned at her, waving the book in his hand before pointing at the cover. The Great Gatsby.

He really was reading the book she'd sent over.

Mirroring his actions, she lifted up her own book, the one he'd sent over all those days ago. The Hobbit.

It was short, it was sweet and it was the longest they had ever interacted off paper. Even without verbal communication, so much was said between them both in that small instance. It was a sign that these little book deliveries were appreciated, they both cared enough to read whatever the other sent over.

Maybe it was time to consider Daveed her hot, funny and caring neighbor.

The book exchanges continued onward for weeks.

Daveed sent over a collection of fairy tales by the Grimm brothers, his attached note read: Thanks for putting me onto Fitzgerald, gonna have to see if the school board will let me teach his work in my lectures. Think they might be against it, what ya think? In the meantime, check these indie short stories out. Think Cooper will resonate with the wolf in the Red Ridding Hood story. -Daveed, your literature professor neighbor. P.S. Noticed the Raptors jersey on your washing line, tell your boyfriend the Warrior in me is unimpressed.

To which Y/N replied to with, alongside a copy of Twilight,: Cooper loved the Red Ridding Hood story, but he says you remind him of the grandmother in it. Speaking of wolves, check out this classic example of American literature, the lack of emotions this author puts into her writing is truly astounding. -Y/N, the Raptor next door. P.S. The Raptors jersey is mine, but I'll applaud you for smoothly trying to find out if I have a boyfriend. For the record, I do. He's tall, dark haired and lives in my imagination. P.S.S. Could you ask your girlfriend if she knows any good foundations? I'm thinking of changing mine.

He took less than a day to fire back with a copy of 50 Shades Of Grey: If Cooper is the wolf, and I'm the grandmother, would that make you the girl? I think the romance in this book is quite poignant, it really values the emotional over the physical. - Daveed, your grandmother neighbor. P.S. Not sure about my girlfriend's foundation, seeing as she doesn't exist, but I use L'Oreal. Very creamy, or whatever it is foundation is meant to be like. P.S.S. You looked cute in your paint splattered t-shirt the other day.

Not even an hour later, he opened his door to find a hardback of the Holy Bible and the following: I went into that book expecting a rush of happiness and sweetness, but ended up feeling scared and turned on in the most confusing way. I worry about your taste, Daveed, and that is why I'm recommending this book to you. This will cleanse you of all you've done wrong, my friend. -Y/N, your concerned neighbor. P.S. I'm not the girl, I'm the huntsman. P.S.S. Your dog is so cute, Cooper wants her/his number.

It took 45 days of lockdown for Y/N to finally venture out to her local grocers, tired of ordering food online and desperate for some human contact which didn't have to be separated by a great distance and united by a glass screen and a stable internet connection. She'd felt wrong; out of place; strange the whole time she'd been wandering up and down the aisles of the shop, her mask secured on her face and a near full basket hanging on her arm.

The fact Cooper was at home, holding down the fort for the time being gave her a little comfort.

Despite paying through self-service, and using a contactless card payment, her father's voice was ringing in her ears, scolding her for even taking the risk of stepping outdoors. Naturally, she appreciated his caring tendencies but she liked to consider herself old enough and smart enough to manage her own health problems.

With four bags stacked awkwardly in her arms, she took a few steps away from her car, attempting to peak over her shopping to see just where exactly the gate to her garden was. She could very faintly hear Cooper's excited whining, his paws scratching against the metal gate.

It was the sound of a voice, a very distinct voice, calling out her name that halted her movement and turned her head.

“Let me,” He, Daveed from door 28, paused, his hand clutching at his heaving chest. As her eyes drifted over him briefly, she took note of the trainers, the sweaty running shorts and, most of all, his bare chest, perfectly lined abs scattered along him. “get that for you.”

Before Y/N could so much as protest, Daveed had already snatched all four bags from her arms and was stood holding the gate open for her, a stupidly handsome smile decorating him. Her mask was still firmly held up but she smiled beneath it and done her best to share her gratitude with him.

“You don't need to do that.” Despite her words, she never attempted to take her bags back from him, instead cautiously slipping her way past him into her open garden. Cooper launched his paws up onto her, a bark of excitement escaping him before he licked at her arm and redirected his attention to Daveed. Cooper was still fairly young, not even a year old yet, but he was a fierce dog when it came to guarding his owner from any stranger. So, for Y/N to turn back and find him happily circling Daveed's legs, his favorite toy in his mouth and his tail wagging at lighting speed, it was purely a shock to her system.

And the clearest sign she'd ever seen that Daveed, whether he was a complete stranger to her or not, could be trusted.

“Where should I leave these?” He ignored her protest, effortlessly walking up the path of her garden with the heavy bags secure in his hands. Having him around her, all sweaty and heavy breathing and half dressed was more of a health hazard than her trip to the shops. Y/N began to wonder if it was legal to look so good.

“Uh, just,” She fished through her purse for her door key, avoiding the temptation to peak at his abs again. “on the table over there, if you don't mind.” She nodded her head in the direction of the small table sat out on her front porch and, within a couple seconds, she felt as Daveed brushed past her, so close she swore she could feel the heat radiating off of him.

He done exactly as she requested and lay the bags gently to rest on the table, the muscles in his arms flexing. Y/N had to wonder if this was a purposeful action, a way to tempt and seduce her, as if he needed to try much to succeed at that. She'd more or less been whipped for him the second he delivered his first book to her.

“Are you looking after yourself?” Her parents had asked this every time they spoke on the phone - which was basically a daily occasion - but hearing it from Daveed felt refreshing, as though she'd never heard the words before; as though she'd never been spoken to with such tenderness. She let her eyes meet his face, a dangerous choice when she found a dazzling smile reflected back at her.

“I am.” Was it possible for a smile to be brighter than the sun? “Are you?”

“Yeah. Even started eating kale.” Daveed chuckled and she followed suit, because his laugh was infectious and she would willingly let it consume her. “It tastes like shit, don't get me wrong, but it's gotta count for something, right?”

“Oh, totally, kale-boy.”

“Excuse me, I'd prefer if you called me by what I really am: a kale-man.”

The mask slid down the bridge of her nose as she smiled wider than the Cheshire cat. In her mind, she cursed her heart-eyes behavior but it did nothing to halt it, Daveed simply put her on edge in the best way.

“It was nice to finally hear your voice, it's cuter than I thought.” She wondered if he was aware of the effect he was having on her, if each word and every gesture of his was carefully calculated to make her weak in the knees. “I'll save you from my sweaty smell and head off now, I can hear the shower calling my name.”

The last thing, yet also the best thing, Y/N needed to be envisioning was a water soaked Daveed. “I didn't want to say anything but, yeah, you smell worse than Cooper's breath.”

“There's the attitude from all your notes!” Daveed had at some point stepped closer to her, to the point where it was likely a big enough inhalation of a breath would have their chests touching. He was so tall, and muscular. “I'll see you around, Y/N from door 27.”

For two minutes she stood there, mask slapped across her face and her breath caught in her throat, nothing but the raw memory of his body so close and, yet, so far away from her own. She made her way indoors, finally, in a zombiefied state. Cooper trailed happily behind her through the house and all the way into the kitchen and, like the good pup he was being raised to be, he helped put away a few of the groceries, by greedily grabbing at the packet of dog treats when something else in the bag caught Y/N's attention.

“Thank you for the bible, now may I rebut with a copy of the Torah? The characters might seem similar but I swear it's different. Friend? Was that you officially friendzoning me, Y/N? And to think I was willing to look past the fact you're a raptor.” She mumbled allowed without even noticing, her eyes drifting across the note in her hand. When Daveed had snuck this into her shopping, she didn't know. Perhaps he'd left it earlier on that day and simply scooped it into the bags after carrying them for her. That sure made more sense than her theory of him hiding the book down his running shorts. “P.S. My dog and I share a number, so I guess I'll just have to give you that one. Just tell Cooper no phone calls past ten o'clock, that's her bedtime.”

She'd never thought it would be so easy to achieve her hot neighbor's number, but the crumpled paper in her hand told her differently.

The room was dark. Or maybe her eyes were closed. Y/N honestly didn't know nor care enough to find out which was the truth. No, all she cared about was the feeling of her nerves being lit on fire and simultaneously soothed. As the moments passed, she became more and more aware of the predicament she found herself in. Her head was thrown back on the comfort of someone's pillow- it couldn't be one of her own, it was far too plush and soft -, both her legs were bent up at the knee, her hands were busy grasping on to anything and everything close by (the bed sheets, the headboard, the hair of whoever was currently positioned between her thighs) and her mouth was agape. Hushed moans and whimpers of ecstasy filled the thick air of the room, and they were all coming from her.

The tension was building in her gut, a knot winding itself tighter and tighter all the while threatening to snap at any moment. Her hips started grinding in time with the warm tongue against her heat. Or, maybe, she'd already been grinding before. Nothing was making sense. Up was down, left was right and Y/N was on the brink of the most thrilling orgasm she'd felt in a while, or ever, really.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?”

Her eyes- which apparently had in fact been opened all along-, with heavy eyelids, flickered down to between her legs. The man was certainly a specimen built to the likes of a Greek god, or something deriving from one. His fingers, buried deep within her, coaxed out another moan from her as they curled upwards. Daveed only smiled in satisfaction at this, as if he was getting more pleasure from it than she was.

Daveed.

Holy shit.

Daveed was between her bare legs.

Y/N bolted up and out of bed, hand reaching out and switching on the light. Just as she expected, there was no sign of Daveed in her room: not on her bed, not under her covers, not in her closet. But he was everywhere in her mind. Fully dressed, Y/N had never felt more naked in her entire life as she gazed out of her bedroom balcony door, over at the very window of the man who'd soaked her dream in a haze of steam. 

His light was on.

Worst of all, she found that Daveed was sat at his desk, typing away at something on his opened laptop. As though he felt her intrusive gaze, he looked up from the screen and met her eyes. Due to the distance between them both Y/N couldn't tell for sure but she could have sworn he sucked in his lower lip before releasing it in a teasing smile, his hand lazily waving at her.

With all the shame in the world, she shut her curtains and flopped back on to her bad.

In the span of five minutes she'd dreamed of Daveed doing unspeakable things to her with that mouth of his and been caught peeking into the bedroom of the very same man.

She hadn't phoned him.

She hadn't sent a book over to him.

She hadn't opened her blinds.

He'd been stuck thinking about her for eight days straight, yet it was beginning to feel like she'd been nothing but a creation of his own socially starved brain.

In the grand scheme of things, Daveed was not a narcissist. But he also wasn't an idiot. He was very aware of his own looks, of the lingering stares he'd receive from his students- male and female alike-, of the way soccer moms would shamelessly pay more attention to him than their own sons when he coached the local little league team. And, up until that point, he'd been sure Y/N had been reciprocating whatever feelings he'd amassed for her.

One thing Daveed was is decisive.

Mask pulled across the lower part of his face, he let himself into the gated front yard. In a couple seconds, Cooper had pounced up at him, tail wagging a million miles an hour and tongue lapping away at his face. He chuckled as he lowered the dog safely back onto all four paws.

It only took knocking on the door twice for him to get a “Hold on!” shouted from some part of the house as a response. Relief flooded him at the sound of Y/N's voice, reassuring him that everything was okay. But it only brought on more questions about her sudden lack of communication.

“Hell- Oh, Daveed.” A mask decorated her own face, meaning he was unaware  of the hint of a smile on her lips. All Daveed could see were her widened and tired eyes. “Can I help you?” He'd been stood staring her in silence for a little too long, it seemed.

"You never called.” He'd never sounded more pathetic in his life.

“You noticed.”

“Of course I noticed. Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

Apart from appear in one of my wet dreams? “What?! No! I've just been busy and I also didn't want to burden you, if I'm honest.”

“I gave you my number so you'd call me, Y/N.”

“And here I thought it was so our two dogs could kick off their fairy-tale romance.”

“As their parents, don't you think it's our responsibility to get along?” Daveed wanted to ask what had kept her busy for eight days. He wanted to know what she thought about in the morning, in the evening. What she thought about him. About the prospect of there ever being a “them”. But it wasn't the time nor the place. “Promise you'll call.”

“I promise I'll call you, loser.” She laughed behind her mask, leaving him with a longing to see her smile. “Now get lost, I've probably just burnt my omelette because of you.”

Daveed had just closed his front door as he felt his phone begin to buzz in his pocket, an unknown number displayed across the screen.

“You owe me an omelette.” Were the first words he heard as he answered it.

Two months passed. The quarantine rules had loosened and tightened over and over again. The supermarkets had restocked their shelves many times. An entire season had come and gone. And Y/N and Daveed had spoken nearly every single day on the phone.

He'd come to learn a few key things: a health scare had kept her busy those eight days; she was allergic to bullshit and always called him out on his; she loved rose wine, or any wine really; she had the most beautiful mind.

She'd also come to learn some stuff about him: he was a university professor, specifying in classic literature; despite the muscles, he was one heck of a dork; he knew a little too much about the rap industry and was prone to throw himself into tangents about the subject; his voice was even more heavenly in the morning.

“Make yourself something to eat,” Daveed spoke down the line, a twinge of excited demand in his voice. “pour yourself a glass of wine and go up to your bedroom balcony.”

“Ooh, someone's feeling bossy tonight, huh?” Y/N laughed, switching the phone between hands as she pushed herself off of her couch, disturbing a sleeping Cooper. After a few strokes to his head, she began her journey to the kitchen, suppressing a laugh as the tired dog chose to follow her, much like he done all the time. “Am I allowed to ask why I'm doing this?”

“Just do it, before I hang up.”

“I'll add grumpy to list of Daveed Moods tonight.”

With a bowl of heated up leftover pasta, a bottle of red wine and a glass balanced in her hands, and her phone glued between her ear and her shoulder, Y/N found her way up stairs to her bedroom. She was incapable of turning on the lights until she'd put down the items in her hand. It was then, as the lights lit up her room in a warm, golden hue, that she noticed Daveed.

No, not in her room. That would have been completely creepy, and partially arousing.

He was sat out on his own balcony, room lit up behind him, with a dish of unknown food, some wine and a candle lit in front of him. He was dressed casually, yet Y/N still found herself on the cusp of drooling at the sight of him. And when he finally noticed her, Daveed waved with the most shit eating grin on his face.

“Cute onesie. What is it, a bunny?” His tone was friendly, as always, but that never stopped her from groaning in frustration at his teasing.

“Did you call me up here just to criticize my choice of clothing, Diggs? Because I was taking part in an intense Criminal Minds marathon before someone interrupted me.”

“I actually called you to invite you to enjoy the evening with me.” It was a curse and a blessing to be so foul minded, Y/N's instantly flooding her with different meanings to his words. “The sky looked pretty tonight and I need someone to appreciate it with me. Unfortunately, you're the only one who answered my call.”

“I won't hesitate to hang up.”

“Stop talking and sit down, your dinner'll get cold.”

Who knows how much time really passed as the two sat staring out at the other, bellies filled by food and wine, hearts filled with desire and longing. There was a great distance between the two balconies but Y/N couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so close to someone, even before social distancing had become the norm.

“It's crazy, I know. How can we be prepared to teach classes now that the infection rates are higher than back at the start of the year, where we all shut down?” Daveed had brought up the fact he was going back to work soon, a topic which made him a perfect blend of relieved, infuriated and confused. “I give it one semester till they make us go back to online teaching, honestly. What about you? Any signs of getting back to your office?”

“We just got the go ahead last week, we're opening back up in a fortnight.” Her reply was paused by a sip of wine, her second glass of the night. “I say we but I really mean them. My doctor told me I'm not allowed to go back yet, apparently I've got some tests left to do.”

The silence that ensued lasted quite a few minutes, then Daveed sighed down the line.

“Is it alright for me to ask why?” He seemed to regret his words instantly, at least from the limited expressions Y/N could read on his face. “I mean, the doctor thing. Are you sick or...?”

“Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't ask sooner.” In their months of getting to know each other, there were times she couldn't even open the door to him when he'd deliver some of her mail or drop off a bunch of flowers he'd stolen from a neighboring garden. It was always under the excuse of doctor's orders and he never questioned or doubted her, he just accepted her for everything she said and gave of herself. “I was in a car accident a couple years ago. It wasn't fatal for anyone, thankfully, but it was pretty bad. One of my lungs ended up collapsing.

I pretty much lived in and out of the hospital for months, which almost sucked more than having a lung that was pretty much giving up on me. I don't know if you've ever spent a lot of time in hospital but it's like attending your own funeral. Everyone that visits you has this look of grief, everything they say is apologetic and there are so many tears. Not to mention the fact the place smells like a crime scene with how much bleach cleaning they do. Anyways, I'm okay now but I guess they consider me high risk or something so they're taking extra steps to make sure I'm as safe and as far away from that virus as possible.”

“So, correct me if I'm wrong, but does that mean I won't be able to take you out anytime soon?” Daveed spoke up finally, and boy was she glad that he didn't want to stick on the topic of her hospital stay. It was a dark and sad time, and she didn't want to experience any of that with him.

“Nope, not until I get permission from my doctor.”

“Can't believe I'm getting cock-blocked by some fucking virus.”

A laugh, so loud that Daveed heard it without his phone pressed to his ear, erupted from Y/N. “You'll just have to settle for balcony dates for now.”

“This isn't a date, Y/N.” It was his turn to laugh.

“Oh, sorry.” Clearly, she was worse at reading signs than she'd thought. She'd never felt more foolish in her life.

“When I eventually do take you on a date, there won't be so much space between us.” His words honestly had the chance to make or break her in that moment, her entire soul depended on whatever he said next. “It'll be a night where I take you to the most ridiculously expensive restaurant. We won't really like the food on the menu but we'll stay as part of a principle. You'll be reluctant to let me blow all my money on the bill but I'll get my way eventually. We'll find some excuse or reason to stay out. Maybe we'll find some piano bar, do some dancing, share some drinks. I don't think I'll be able to stop thinking about how beautiful you look. We'll still be hungry because dinner was shit, so we'll get some fast food before you let me drive us home. I'll probably hold your hand while I drive. I'll walk you to your front door and, even if I really wish you'd invite me in, I'll be relieved when you don't. I'll try tell you how much I enjoyed our night but I'll probably fumble my words. You'll finally send me on my way but I'll find a way to steal a kiss from you. I'll probably think about your lips until the next date I take you on.”

“The english major really jumped out of you.” Y/N wished she didn't lack the self control to say something normal when a man spoke to her like Daveed did. “But, uh, that sounds really nice. Honestly. Except the bill part. We'll be splitting it or I won't be coming on that date.”

“You're so high maintenance, Y/N from door 27, but I guess that could work.” The eye-roll was audible in his tone. “Speaking of english major, I actually have a book for you to read.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I'll drop it round in the morning.”

“I'll be at the doctors in the morning, sorry.” The wine had rushed to her cheeks, heating them up and making the chill in the air all the more relaxing, lulling her into a half asleep faze.

“Don't worry, I'll leave you a note.”