#oops I sort of forgot that I still have this account my bad ;;;;

[and-then-yoi-happened]

Fic Preview: Love is the Ground We Dance Upon

Fic snippet featured in the image above:

“I have a playlist with interesting options, but I also have some themed ones we can check, if you have an idea for a genre or theme.”

Yuuri followed him and together they settled against the boards. With a few flicks Victor opened the playlist section of his preferred music app.

“Can I?” Yuuri asked, reaching for the tablet.

“Sure, have a look.”

Biting his bottom lip, Yuuri scrolled through the lists until he stopped with a frown.

“Uh, Victor? What’s with this playlist?”

“Hm?” Victor took a closer look at what Yuuri was staring at. “Oh, it’s a collection of songs we could dance to. At our wedding.”

“You mean for our first dance?” Yuuri didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he opened the selection and looked it over, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Yes, these are all just ideas. I’ve been saving them over time, and whenever I found a fitting one, I added it.”

“Wait—over time?” Yuuri stopped scrolling and looked at Victor. “How long have you been collecting them…?”

— ♡ —

I had the honour of getting to write a fluffy slice of life fic where Yuuri and Victor plan, practice and dance their first dance at their reception for the Vows of Grace (a Victuuri wedding themed) zine 💜💙

The zine‘s Twitter account (linked above) has a preview for all the lovely contributions ♡

Preorders are open ♡

#yuri on ice #victuuri #victor nikiforov #yuuri katsuki #yoi zine #fanfic #yoi #demimsy writes #oops I sort of forgot that I still have this account my bad ;;;;

[rawliverandcigarettes]

Ask Game : ALL OF THEM !!!!!! Or, perhaps slightly more realistically, 💭 ! 👓! 🚀 ! 💥! and/or [INSERT PREFERENCE HERE] ! (they're all free choice, answer as many or as little as you like)

Hahaha yes that would be maybe A Lot (though I did have fun, these are good asks! I might answer more at some point!!)

I have already replied to some of them here!

💭 What inspires you and your writing?

I always found the "inspiration" questions to be really hard to answer, because I'm not always 100% sure what qualifies as inspiration to be honest? If I had to answer beyond the obvious (just living one's life, watching others live theirs, get involved with other people's art, learn cool facts about being alive and how we made it obtuse and complicated), I think my thing is to notice intersections, heighten them and push them in a direction that I can then observe? I think it's why I really like fan creation: there isn't the arbitrary part of making things up that could be literally anything, it's more about reckoning with particular feelings and exploring where they come from and what they mean. I think I create in a very... reactory way, if that makes sense? Which sounds awful put like that, but oh well!!!!

👓 What helps you focus when you write?

Two things!

Music and a drink of some kind (generally tea or coffee, but can be a nice cold something, or even alcohol in rare occasions)

NO INTERNET.

This second part is so crucial. As time goes by, I think I have a fairly decent amount of suspicion that I fall somewhere on the ADHD spectrum, and so the internet simply murders my ability to focus. I didn't use to be so bad, but two burnouts before hitting 25 years old will mess up a brain real good, and now I need my way out of the interwebs to do anything remotely productive.

I am so worried about the inevitable moment where my old phone dies and I *have* to get a smartphone.

🚀 Do you like to outline your fic first or create as you go?

It mostly depends on the story. If it's a short piece, I either don't outline or outline in extremely broad strokes.

When it comes to longer pieces, I do outline pretty extensively! I have developed a method that works extremely well for me and involves some sort of table that recaps what's going on in a given chapter, but also notes any crucial information we're supposed to learn regarding main character arcs, main plot and subplots. I only get to the table phase once I have a seriously good idea of what the story will be, which usually takes several notebooks to iron out.

Even then, the outline is pretty loose, and I know I will make adjustments while putting the actual words on the page --there's always something I forgot to take into account, or a narrative opportunity I didn't realize was there to begin with.

(also sometimes I forget what I put in my outline and remembers too late oops)

💥 What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

Oh nooooooo this is so hard!!! And what is hard about it is to only pick one!!!

So I'm trying to pick the one that would have the most positive impact overall, and that reflects my arbitrary bias the least (it still will, but I'm not picking something like "more salarians", which for sure would be great for me but wouldn't do much to enhance the story as a whole)

So. I love Mass Effect 2, I really do. It's my favorite of the trilogy, mostly thanks to its bold narrative design that was pretty revolutionary at the time, and its cast of amazing characters. But... I think the main plot kind of makes very little sense, and its connection to the rest of the trilogy is tenuous at best.

The thing I would change is that instead of Collectors reaping out humans colonies to make a Super Human Reaper, which is pretty stupid, Collectors are still there (and maybe still kidnapping colonists why not), but they are used as an inside job inside the Terminus Systems to stirr trouble and mess things up between different factions, increasing tensions between Council Space and the Terminus Systems before the invasion strikes. We can keep the whole game pretty similar, except that the danger is less in humans disappearing (which... ok mary sues why is it always about you) and more in "we are eating our own instead of being united against the Reapers when they do arrive". We could get a great peak of who are these people opposing the Council and why, and get a sense of the "dark" side of the Milky Way --which I think was always the intention, though it got a little muddied-- and why it still deserves to be saved. We can keep everything: the suicide mission, us being allied with Cerberus and questionning the Alliance, the diverse perspective of all these suicidal outcasts... And!!! That would justify giving depth to batarians, I did it, I made batarians part of my change without making it seem as if the one thing I would change is to write batarians in a better way!!!

(my other pick for those who are curious would be to rework Priority: Thessia and make it less sexist. I really think just reworking this mission would make ME3 overall less weirdly bitter --though toning down the sexism in the entire game also works)

And I'm throwing a wildcard generated by a number generator for good measure:

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

That one's pretty easy! Here's a snippet from The Empire of Preys, from the perspective of the one and only, our favorite eugenist, racist and misandrist space frog: Dalatrass Linron!!!

(it's not edited, first draft, etc, thread with caution --also Dalatrass Linron's first name is Nemore)

Nemore ignored the alien’s brutish sturdiness to return the salarian his defiant gaze; a pastel shade that looked like a discreet blush, an unbecoming secret. He was young, his clothes baggy and practical and unkempt; used to run away from the local city watch, his angles sharpened by the toll of constant revolt, or the streets, or long-term overdose. She wondered whether his mother knew where he was, if she knew about the imprint that krogan claws left on his skin and how it was now overpowering the imprinting on her; whether these claws ever dug deep enough to soil her son’s blood.

She clenched her teeth. Her crusade had never been about saving everyone –especially not souls desperate to sink themselves back to lower cycles. The Salarian Union was a collective struggle, but collective didn’t imply all-encompassing. Nemore was well aware of the sacrifices left to make. All those wayward girls and motherless boys; tragically lost, incapable of being saved.

She wrenched her attention away from the nauseating pair, and back at the crowd chanting her name.

“They’re too close,” Nemore murmured to her security chief. “Get them away from my people.”

Thank you so much, those are really fun!

From this ask game!

#asks #fanfiction #mass effect critical #mass effect 2 #halfway home #the empire of preys #batarians #dalatrass linron #yes the snippet is in fact about a salarian and krogan punk boyfriends #fucking up dalatrass linron's rally #and we do stan

[seraphim-soulmate]

31 October 2023

ok going to write this down before my self-esteem and mood go down, but I've always been very perplexed by friendship and how it works and like, why people like me or are friends with me? and I had some thoughts! (this was longer than I thought it would be lol more under the cut)

So in the shower I was thinking and it is somewhat based on common interests, but NOT in the way that I was thinking of common interests before. It's not like "well we both like dinosaurs so we're friends", its often deeper interests that are connected to identity to some extent. or like shared values, beliefs, but not all of them have to be the same. like just because my friend enjoys a certain type of music that I don't like and often goes to events of that music, doesn't mean we can't be friends because we still have common ground in other areas that can connect us and other events we can go to together.

but still, a friendship is likely going to be frustrating and not work out well if one of the parties has a value that directly clashes against the other in a very material way. like someone who values punctuality, communication and following through on plans isn't going to get along great with someone who is flakey, difficult to contact and often late. But! that also doesn't mean that people can't get along with you because you have different values, beliefs or because you struggle with certain things. like my internalized beliefs around tattoos doesn't make me a bad person, nor a bad friend, and my friends acknowledge that it comes from a more deeply rooted issue and don't take offense to it.

People are also able to accept that you have struggles or limitations (most of the time) and are able to compromise. Like I'm unfortunately often +/-30 mins late because of my disability; I end up needing extra time to lay down that I didn't account for or my body can't move as quickly as it does on other days or oops I dissociated and forgot to do things. I make sure to ask people close to me if it bothers them if I'm late, so I can make sure I set aside even more time to prepare for something if it is the case. Plus there's certain events that have a timeframe of when you can arrive without it being weird, those are hard to figure out though. I think as long as people are secure enough in their identity, values and beliefs, they don't take mine as a personal attack.

sidenote: you can also take care of needs during the time you see friends and don't always have to be 100% prepared when seeing them. I can tell them I need to eat and go get food. this fluctuates based on my sensory difficulty level and cognitive processing abilities of the day but I am allowed to "inconvenience" others with my needs

And friendship, making new friends in particular, is often genuinely about vibes, whether or not you simply "click", which you don't have much control over nor can you always articulate why you didn't have that moment of connection with someone. Because there's a lot of entirely decent people, who I've shared values with and shared perspectives with, who I just didn't really "click" with. I'm still trying to decipher whether that's something that happens instantly upon meeting or can be built up, and if it can be built up, does that result in a fulfilling friendship? or is it always sort of going to be difficult because you're unsure of the connection?

It's also sometimes hard for me to remember what common ground I do have with friends, but sometimes "events" can be going for a walk in the park, sharing a meal or going to some common place like a zoo, aquarium, museum. Just often in the depths of my sadness and isolation, I forget I have interests and I forget that even if I'm not hyperfixated on something, there are still enjoyable activities. That I can do by myself and/or with others.

When I was doing poorly before leaving for the US, I perpetually had the question on my mind of "why are people friends with me? what do I bring to the relationship?", mostly because I was seeing only the differences I had with others and not any of the things we have in common. And it is genuinely hard because a lot of normal interests are things I find difficult, don't enjoy or even find repulsive a lot of the time (music, movies, comics, video games). So I think this will be an interesting period of rediscovering my interests and things I have in common with others.

But I can nevertheless be a bit appeased by remembering that there are things I can do. I often need accommodations, but that doesn't make me a bad person either.

And I don't need to compensate for my weaknesses by trying to placate people with gifts or actions and try prove to them I'm worthy of their friendship.

Like yes maybe going to a museum will be a full day of effort for me, but I can also request a wheelchair, wear noise cancelling earbuds, go at a time where there's less crowd, ask a friend to contact the establishment to verify information related to those things. My life is going to look a bit different than what it looked like before, and yes maybe I will have to put additional requests on my friends, but others not being able to accommodate me doesn't mean I shouldn't or don't have those needs.

Another addition is that people like me, and are friends with me, because we did have that connection, and clicking moment, and have continued to maintain and work on our friendship by spending time with one another and showing care. But people don't like/dislike me because of fundamental traits to who I am really. It's not that deep if I don't feel a connection to a new person. It's not that deep if there's a trait someone doesn't like about me, or I about them, and that's the reason why we don't pursue a friendship. It's not because my life is hard and that I have struggles and difficulties that people dislike me (I think? I mean it can be off-putting but hopefully not the full reason if they are capable of handling that emotionally). A lot of my friends have stuck by me through very difficult moments and have supported me in them.

I still struggle with feeling guilty about having difficulties in my life and probably more often than not, bringing negativity or intensity to a situation where I'm not realizing that's what I'm bringing because I'm in a bad place so those thoughts feel normal to me. I'm still honestly not sure how to navigate that, because I want to respect my needs for reassurance and connection with others, but I also don't want to drag my friends down with me or put heavy things on their conscience when they can't handle it. Part of that is checking in with them before bringing up something heavy, but it's not always easy to know what others consider to be "heavy"; a lot of normal parts of my life are things that are heavy that I don't take the time to recognize as such. I guess that's also why it's best to have a friend group of others you can turn to when someone isn't available.

#personal #me #friends #friendship #feel free to comment/reblog if you have additional insights or references to things that could help me!!! #im still often confused about friendship and my needs and how to be a good friend #bcs like. there is an exchange still. there are still transactions that occur where you do need to bring something of value. #like being able to validate others is an important skill to have and im grateful i took the time to learn about it and do refreshers #when im in a bad place i often focus too much on the transactions and not on the: its nice to spend time with someone i like #because I often feel like im just not a likeable person in hard moments. like its not nice to be around me no matter how hard I try. #every friendship also has a different dynamic and ruleset which is all very confusing for me ngl #its not that im changing my entire identity but i am having to adapt to how that person communicates differently every time

[deviantartdramahub]

Hello! Gelly again! I have another big speech of some sort, but first I wanna say that I forgot something in my last one, oops haha. So another example of hypocrisy with sock-puppets on DA Drama Now is that one of their followers, Doctor Ray, made countless "Kylo-Ren" accounts to harass our friend, Club. And yet, they're wrongly attacking Sam for the same thing.

So, the other thing I intend to tackle this evening is how this group is falsely saying they "want to help me" when in reality they're just trying to scare and manipulate me. I have quite a lot of proof and cases to demonstrate this.

So for start, as you can see here: https://deviantartdramanow.tumblr.com/tagged/gellygirl

They made a whole ass tag for me. They made this so whenever they talk shit on me, they can tag my name for people to click and see everything else they said about me. They likely did this for easy access proof I'm a bad person, the same thing they do to other victims of this group. Sure, you can go "Bro it's just tagging" but notice how they only do this to people they're against. You don't see them tagging Morothias, do you? But yeah, I can admit this is probably my weakest proof, which is one of the reasons why I listed it first.

The 2nd instance of proof I have is them having no problem threatening me with bad things that could happen to me: https://deviantartdramanow.tumblr.com/tagged/gellygirl (This one's debatable as the best proof, as the threat seems to be more of a warning, and this person isn't acting too malicious towards me. Though I'd appreciate it if they'd act less condescending, lol.) https://deviantartdramanow.tumblr.com/post/704925080424251392/wow-of-course-the-sick-fuck-club-would-take (threatening me my good friend would betray me. I haven't made one status thing on my DA, yet he continues to be a wonderful friend.) https://deviantartdramanow.tumblr.com/post/708006114919399424/i-unfollowed-and-blocked-gelly-what-she-did-was (I know I already talked about this post, but it applies here as well for obvious reasons. Yes, the threat is non-sensical, but it's still a threat to report my account and get me in trouble. Another thing to add about this, if they were truly trying to help me, they wouldn't let my reputation get hurt by this, and stick up for me at least a little. But yet Evie happily posts it there with no comment, letting the user say whatever about me. It's also one of the posts that are sexualizing my drawing by calling it a fetish art, but we'll talk about that later...)

https://deviantartdramanow.tumblr.com/post/704836510984372224/laughing-my-rump-off-one-of-clubbys-pals-gelly (And finally, this one. This one's just disgusting and horrible. I expressed to Club long ago how upset and uncomfortable this post made me feel. As this person laughs as they say he'll choke me and take me away. Not to mention no one ever showed slight remorse in the group that I was horrified by this statement. Dear. Fucking. God.)

Another reason that it's obvious that they aren't trying to help me is their willingness to insult me. Insulting someone while saying you're trying to help them is toxic as FUCK. It's way too obvious they're trying to manipulate me, and make me feel small so they can scoop me up away from my friends and use me. Evidence: https://deviantartdramanow.tumblr.com/post/704922897775542273/gellygirl-you-are-a-fool-for-a-minor-other-kids ( Here someone's calling me a fool, calling me unintelligent because I don't jump to conclusions and immediately abandon a friend like some people do.)

https://deviantartdramanow.tumblr.com/post/704925080424251392/wow-of-course-the-sick-fuck-club-would-take (Already talked about this post, but yeah, here's them once again referring to me as a "foolish kid.")

https://deviantartdramanow.tumblr.com/post/705009194279043072/disgusting-i-see-that-club-now-has-watched (Someone calling me stubborn bc I don't listen to their bullshit lol.)

And finally, the last reason why I know they aren't trying to help me. They refuse to hear me out and listen to what I have to say unless it's helping their word. The main evidence of this is them accusing a friend that is YOUNGER than me of taking advantage of me and making me draw fetish art. They refuse to consider the fact that hypnotism can be in a non-sexual context, and are making me and my friend out to be fetish artists when we are BOTH MINORS. I knew Lina for a while, and never ONCE did I see her use hypnotism in a sexual way. Neither in RPs or fan-art of hers. The way she uses it is either one of her evil OCs using it to get minions to take over the world, a classic fun story used in lots of fiction. And when it's used by good OCs, they simply use it to calm chaotic characters down. Oh, and one of her OCs in the fan-art they're sexualizing IS A CHILD CHARACTER! Lina confirmed her to be 14! So not only are they sexualizing a minor's art while accusing another of having a fetish, THEY'RE SEXUALIZING ART WITH A CHILD CHARACTER IN IT! All while they refuse to hear me out. Evidence: https://deviantartdramanow.tumblr.com/post/707728661508472832/i-feel-bad-for-that-gelly-kid-shes-definitely (The shit-stain that dragged Lina into the drama in the first place.) https://deviantartdramanow.tumblr.com/post/707830463335628800/someone-should-warn-gelly-she-drew-fetish-art-im

https://deviantartdramanow.tumblr.com/post/707975406018592768/gelly-instead-of-saying-we-were-wrong-quit-acting (Okay, Lina's not the person who blocked me. The person who did was actually Sam due to a misunderstanding.But we made up and are friends now, so don't worry. She fortunately doesn't even know about the drama going on, and I want to keep it that way. She deserves better than to be dragged into this mess.)

https://deviantartdramanow.tumblr.com/post/708083771187019776/wanna-bet-how-much-club-will-try-to-request-diaper (Now they're saying Club will request fetish art bc of the stupid shit that was started. He was just comforting me after something stressful happened, you creepy sickos, leave us alone.)

https://deviantartdramanow.tumblr.com/post/708083897300402176/funny-that-you-have-this-in-your-favs-gelly-yet (Ah, and finally we have this. This post right here implies they think I genuinely support pedophilia now. Holy fucking shit XD No, hons, ofc not, I support in having ACTUAL pedos get their ass kicked, not a innocent man who wants to make friends and educate those of the importance of helping those with special needs.)

Well...Oh boy that was a lot. I'm sure there's more examples of them manipulating me but I'm sure we can agree this post shows enough, and I feel it's way too long now, haha. Anyways, I hope this post shows some people who are still confused about supporting DA Drama Now how they manipulate their victims.I want them to know it won't work. I know they think I'm a complete idiot and they can easily manipulate me, but they'll never drag me to their side. It makes me sad, I truly wish I was the only one who had to deal with this.

-Gelly.

When reading this I thought about that too. The hypocrisy (or "seeming" hypocrisy, in the off-chance they have a good defense about it and why this doesn't affect the worthiness of the support given to them through the followers of the DA user Morothias) about Doctor Ray and his participation in raiding would be (aside from their KiwiFarms affiliations) the most glaring/discouraging to us. Their idea of helping people is conquest. And yeah tagging can be used for good or bad; I tag people so it's less backbiting-esque for recurring peoples. But then again, they have a written hate list, as if a group about justice would write one. So there is a greater chance they aren't as well-intentioned when tagging. True peacemakers would not readily resort to extortion or ridicule.

We here promise to stand with you against their tactics.

#Eve #Soderlund

[softgrungeprophet]

i’ve watched a lot of futurama in the last week and i have thoughts about this comedy show .... i think i can confidently say season “7″ —aka season 6A aka the first full season on comedy central—was not that great.

i found it repetitive and dull compared to the pre-CC (aka Fox) episodes and relying too heavily on gimmicks and empty catchphrases from previous seasons. the jokes were half as funny and that's even if you DON'T take into account the show's persistently bad attitude toward fat people and trans women, which is definitely my biggest criticism of the show as a whole having watched over 100 episodes in a week, and which was definitely plenty strong in season 6A/7/whatever

(clearly i have nothing better to do with my time but lol) it’s so glaring how even shows that are like... progressive or whatever... always still go for like... fat people, trans people (anyone dmab especially), and sex workers as fodder for “humor.” like Shut The Fuck Up and tell a real joke dumbass

also the weird feminism jokes.... mostly those are confusing more than they are offensive, in both trying to present women as people with intelligence and capability and also playing into stereotypes. they're not eye candy! but make sure they have visible cleavage and/or get naked. they aren't stupid! but here are all the stupid feminists who loooove shoes and shopping. it's like whiplash! and honestly as often happens they’re close to something on the cis feminists’ obsession w/ wombs and vaginas and whatever but as always they never hit on the actual issues w/ modern white feminism lol

other than that i think a lot of it holds up, especially in the first five seasons, and a lot of the social commentary is unfortunately still relevant 90% of the time, and the show is remarkably deft at combining pathos and emotion with humor. like

at the same time sometimes the fryxleela stuff is actually kind of confusing, because they will end an episode with them declaring their love after deliberating for a while, they’ll even like, be on a date or Officially Making Out and then the next episode it will be as if that never happened and leela hates fry again and doesn’t want to see his face????? it’s weird but i guess that’s probably a symptom of being a cable TV animated sitcom where canonicity is typically based on humor rather than stringent timelines of occurrences.

anyway despite the fact that i found season “7″ aka 6A lackluster, and considering it’s a comedy show of the sort where canon = whatever makes for the best punchline (well... usually) so sometimes it has contradictory moments, its continuity is actually surprisingly consistent... especially in terms of character design. even random one-off characters who show up years later are still like... on-model and in-character.... it’s almost like (i assume) having a show bible is useful. like, man, after reading marvel comics for a few years and seeing things like chris claremont going “wyatt has a sister right? what’s her name? well now it’s wynona.” oops now wyatt has two sisters! also an uncle or something because we forgot his grandpa was dead and also forgot his grandpa’s name and also we thought he was his dad—well anyway, new family members! after reading all that— it’s weird to watch a show where fry’s mom looks the same in flashbacks in season 7 or her first appearance and where background characters don’t suddenly have new names........

thinking about how in spidey and agent venom comics flash’s sister was turned from the auburn-haired leather jacket wearing dangly-earring wearing stubborn woman she was in the 90s into, in the 2000s, a blonde permed housewife with no personality or character, cause no one gave half enough of a shit to read her two prior appearances and you know no one at marvel gives a flying fuck about continuity for their ~oh so serious~ comics lmao

anyway

my takeaway is that futurama has more rigorous continuity checks than all of marvel, which, tbh, not that surprising

      also i think bender is probably not straight (insert joke about bending here) and you could probably write a goddamn essay about hyperperformative masculinity in the show in general but specifically as it pertains to bender, overcompensation, his (occasionally stalker-level) obsession with masculine role models such as elzar and calculon, his defensiveness when it comes to his sexuality and the perceived thought that someone MIGHT be calling him gay, as well as his initial shame in interests such as cooking and i guess you could also take into account the olympics sex change episode (boy in recent context that episode was A Lot) as a facet of his ... idk... feminine side

obviously liking cooking doesn’t make someone gay (or bi or whatever) but i think it’s just a detail that in the context is one more little thing to think about.

        also the susan “boil” joke was stupid and unfunny. tedious, even.

#nadia rambles #also hermes' wife is tall and beautiful #that's ME being gay

[crossbowking]

Space Between Us

Summary: (Set at the beginning of Alexandria) After the reader has one too many drinks, she finds herself being taken care of by the archer.

Request: “I’m here if you need anything, okay?” @anonymous 

A/N: I’m so sorry this one has taken so long for me to finish! With all of the shit going on in the world, it’s been a crazy couple of weeks. I hope everyone out there is staying safe during this time!

Also, I’m so sad about the season 10 finale getting pushed back because of this virus. 

Ugh.

Hopefully, this story can bring y’all a little joy during this time.

xx crossbowking

Masterlist

Ko-fi Account

It wasn’t until after you’d finished your fourth glass of wine that you realized you should’ve stopped at your third.

You hadn’t been able to help yourself though — you’d just gotten caught up in the moment, the normalcy, of what was going on around you.

Alexandria was like nothing you’d ever seen before. You hadn’t thought places like this could even exist in the new world you lived in. Yet, here it stood — with steel walls and fortified gates, with watchtowers and armories. There were children of all ages, running around as if there weren’t flesh-eating hoards of the dead roaming outside. There was enough food and water for all, enough medical supplies to stock up a small infirmary. There was even a beautiful garden, for fuck’s sake.

The people within the community had no clue — no concept — of just how bad things had gotten outside their walls.

And just how good they had it inside of them.

When Deanna had first invited your group into her home, to partake in some sort of makeshift ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ party, you’d been hesitant. After everything you’d seen, after everything you’d been through the past few months — the Governor, the Claimers, Terminus — the last thing you’d wanted to do was dress up and play pretend, as if the world hadn’t completely gone to shit.

Still, it was important that you try, that your entire group try — to fit in, to mingle, to get a feel of what exactly you were about to get yourselves into.

And even more so, it was important that you scoped out the people of Alexandria. Your group didn’t trust easy — and for good reason.

You had a little more faith than Rick and the rest of the group. Faith that there were still good people out there and maybe, just maybe, you’d found some here.

Although that could’ve been the wine talking.

A hand suddenly appeared in front of your face, waving back and forth. “Hello? Earth to Y/N,” Maggie teased from beside you, drawing you back from your dazed thoughts.

You glanced down at her sheepishly, swaying slightly from where you sat, perched on the arm of the couch. “Hm?” you hummed faintly, a lazy smile creeping across your face.

Maggie laughed aloud, her features softening for the first time in what seemed like forever as she turned to whisper something to Glenn, who sat beside her.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’re you two love birds whisperin’ ‘bout over there?” you protested with a pout, leaning over in an attempt to eavesdrop — but you suddenly found yourself tipping over, your balance having disappeared right around that second glass of wine, and landed in a clumsy pile beside Maggie.

The pair dissolved into a fit of laughter as you struggled to upright yourself, finding an unexpected giggle slip through your own lips as you gave up with a huff, your face pressed against the back cushion of the couch. “Help?” you asked pathetically, words muffled against the fabric.

Maggie stifled another laugh as she grabbed your hand, pulling you up into a seated position. Glenn shared an elusive look with Maggie, the two seemingly having a silent conversation, before he stood suddenly, extending his hand towards you. “Alright, come on.”

You accepted his reach without question, allowing him to help you up, swaying slightly on your feet. “Ooh, where we goin’?” you mumbled as Maggie joined the two of you.

“Glenn’s gonna take ya home, alright?” Maggie assured, still looking as though she was struggling to keep a straight face.

“What!” you protested, pulling your hand from Glenn’s. “I’m fine — seriously, I’m — I’m fine,” you nodded, waving off the couple as you attempted to do your best impression of a sober person.

“Okay, Y/N,” Glenn relented, crossing his arms over his chest before he smirked at you, shooting Maggie a look you couldn’t quite interpret. “Say the alphabet backward,” he challenged.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring how the motion made your head spin. “Hey, hey, no! That’s not — that’s not supposed to be your shit! Shit, I mean shtick,” you fussed, waggling your finger. “That’s — that should be Rick’s thing, right? ‘Cause, ‘cause he is a man of the law,” you grinned, drawing out the word ‘law’ before you grabbed onto Glenn’s shoulder. “Ya feel me? Ya feel me, brother?” you gasped softly, looking around in bewilderment. “Whoa, that was weird.”

Maggie covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing directly in your face before she excused herself, spotting Rosita motioning her over from the other side of the room.

“Alright, alright, let’s go,” Glenn ushered you forward despite your weakening protests.

You groaned dramatically, earning a side-eye from a couple of Alexandria’s residents — but you simply ignored them, allowing your friend to guide you out of the living room and through the front door.

The cool night air rushed to meet your flushed skin as you inhaled sharply, shaking your head back and forth in an attempt to clear some of the haziness you felt. But the motion threw you off balance and you teetered at the edge of the porch stairs for a moment before Glenn steadied you. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he cautioned before helping escort you down the steps safely.

You turned to him once you reached the sidewalk, widening your bleary eyes as you grabbed onto his arm. “Hey, can I ask you somethin’?” you suddenly mumbled, staggering briefly.

Glenn’s expression became serious as he turned to face you fully, his kind eyes locking with yours. “You okay?” he asked, worry etching his features, making him seem much older than he was.

“Is — oops, shit, sorry,“ you fumbled backward for a moment, having accidentally stepped on Glenn’s foot. You stiffened, keeping yourself upright as you took a deep breath. “Is Glenn short for Glennith?”

Glenn froze for a moment as though the question hadn’t fully registered before a smile broke across his face.

“What?” you questioned, brows knitted in confusion. “Come on, what!” you pressed, suddenly unable to stop giggling as you swayed back and forth.

“This is my favorite version of you,” Glenn laughed, reaching out to steady you once more before he jerked his head to the side, making a move to leave.

You took a step forward before faltering, gasping softly. “Shoot,” you murmured under your breath. Glenn shot you a confused look, quirking a brow at the dramatics. “I forgot my jacket,” you frowned, crossing your arms over your chest as a chill racked through you.

“Oh, I got it,” Glenn offered, turning back towards the house — but not before shooting you a firm look. “You just hang out here for a second, okay?”

You nodded, giving your friend two big thumbs up.

Glenn rolled his eyes, though a smirk was still etched on his face. “I mean it,” he urged, pointing a finger at you as he hurried back up the stairway and disappeared inside the house.

You sighed contently, unsure of the last time you’d felt this good — this free. Clearly, your tolerance for alcohol wasn’t what it used to be — but in that moment, alone in the quiet, the chilled night air biting at your exposed flesh, you simply couldn’t find it in you to give a damn.

“What’re ya doin’?” came a sudden voice, breaking the stillness.

You startled, spinning around on your heels towards where the sound came from. But you misstepped, one foot slipping off the sidewalk and onto the road, pitching you forward. Though you managed to stay standing, you straightened too quickly, suddenly losing your balance completely and tumbling down hard onto your right side. “Oof!” you huffed as your body slammed against the pavement, the skin on your right palm tearing as you attempted to catch yourself before your face hit the ground. “Yep, that’s gonna leave a mark,” you groaned through clenched teeth as you rolled onto your back, throwing one arm across your eyes.

You were vaguely aware of footsteps approaching, boots scuffing against asphalt before halting in front of you. “The hell’s wrong with ya?” came that same gruff voice from before, though closer this time.

You lifted your arm slightly, peeking up at the archer now standing above you before you covered your eyes once more. “I fell,” you exhaled defeatedly.

Daryl grunted softly. “I saw.”

You sighed once more, pushing up onto your elbows, locking eyes with the archer. “What can I say? I’m an athlete,” you shrugged sarcastically, waving one hand around as though you were royalty.

“Mhm,” Daryl murmured, nodding along — though you could’ve sworn you saw the hint of a smile toying at his lips before he reached his hand down towards you.

The sober version of yourself would’ve been mortified — but this version, this version couldn’t care less.

You took the archer’s hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet, swaying briefly until you found your balance. You huffed, blowing a misplaced strand of hair out of your face before your eyes settled on Daryl’s, noticing that he’d already been watching you. “Hi,” you smiled sweetly, wondering if you should be concerned that you could no longer feel your face.

Daryl scoffed lightly, unwinding his hand from yours, shoving it deep into the pocket of his jeans before his expression became serious. “Ya shouldn’t be out here alone, ya know,” he rumbled, surveying the surrounding area with guarded eyes. “Ain’t safe.”

You pursed your lips, looking up and down the darkened street before pointing towards the massive walls surrounding the community. “That’s why — that’s why they built these big ass walls, Dixon,” you shot back, tapping your finger to your temple. “Keeps the outside — the outside, uh, outside, you know?”

Daryl grunted. “Ain’t the outside we oughta be worried ‘bout,” he muttered under his breath before pausing, giving you a brief once over as if he was really looking at you for the first time. Then he slowly leaned forward, narrowed eyes boring into yours and you found yourself subconsciously holding your breath under his scrutinizing stare.

“What?” you asked, somewhat self consciously, ignoring the heat suddenly rushing to your cheeks.

“How much have ya had?” he questioned blankly.

“What —“

“Ta’ drink, Y/N,” he demanded, growing irritated for reasons unbeknownst to you.

“Oh,” you frowned, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “What’s it matter?”

Daryl opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of a door closing drew your attention away.

You spun around, wavering slightly, your nerves still buzzing from the moment previous as you watched Glenn hurry down the steps, your jacket in hand. “Glenn!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up into the air.

But Glenn didn’t seem fazed — instead, his expression looked tenser than it had before. He spotted Daryl behind you and nodded an acknowledgment as he approached. “Hey,” he breathed, slightly out of breath, glancing over his shoulder back up at Deanna’s house. “Here,” he murmured, handing over your jacket, peeking up at the house once more.

“What’s goin’ on?” Daryl questioned immediately, stepping up onto the sidewalk beside you.

You glanced over at the archer, his normally unreadable features back in place — but he clearly knew something was going on that you hadn’t noticed.

“No, nothing — just —“ Glenn sighed, rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand. “Sasha. She’s — she’s kind of having a tough time in there.”

Then as if on cue, Sasha came barreling through the front door, rushing down the stairs as though someone was after her. She spared the three of you a quick, flustered glance before she pushed past Glenn’s outstretched hand and stormed down the sidewalk, away from everyone else.

Glenn exhaled heavily, looking back at you and Daryl somberly. “Like I said, she’s having a tough time,” he murmured, rubbing a hand through his hair as he shifted, looking torn all of the sudden.

“Go,” Daryl suddenly rumbled.

Glenn glanced at you before looking at Daryl. “But —“

“M’ goin’ back ta’ the house anyways,” the archer interrupted. “I got her.”

You were about to ask who this ‘her’ was that they were talking about — but then Glenn was jogging off in the direction Sasha has just gone and Daryl was nudging you in the opposite direction.

“Wha — oh, alrighty then,” you stumbled forward slightly, feeling Daryl grab onto your elbow to keep you upright.

The longer you walked, the more your buzz began to wear off, the crisp night air having an efficient way of sharpening your senses. Neither you or the archer spoke, walking side by side in silence — you didn’t mind, though. You’d always felt oddly comfortable around him.

When you’d first joined the group back at Atlanta, everyone had warned you of the archer. They’d said he was hotheaded and aggressive, hostile and impulsive — especially living under the shadow of his older brother. But you’d never thought any of that — honestly, when you’d looked at him back then, you’d just thought he seemed scared.

And rightfully so if you had anything to say about it.

You sighed aloud, hugging the jacket you still held close to your chest. The house your group shared came into view — you’d only been at Alexandria for a couple of days and it seemed like no one was quite comfortable enough to move into their own spaces yet. You didn’t care — you preferred to be in close proximity to your family — it was the only way to keep everyone safe.

Daryl was so silent, you almost forgot he was beside you. Not even his footsteps made a sound — that was probably why he made such a good hunter, you thought to yourself. But you didn’t have to look at him to know he was deep in his thoughts, his mind constantly on edge, reliving the brutal past and anxiously waiting for the next bad thing to occur.

You nudged him gently. “Hey,” you murmured, your hazy eyes locking with his troubled ones. “We’re gonna be okay,” you whispered softly.

Daryl huffed, approaching the front steps of the house. “I jus’ don’t trust ‘em, is all,” he finally grumbled.

“You? Not trusting people? You’re kidding!” you teased, feigning surprise as you stepped up onto the stairs.

Karma came at you full force then — you realized too little too late that you’d misjudged your growing sobriety. Almost immediately, your foot slipped out from under you, causing you to topple forward, the steps rushing up to meet your face. But before you could fully face plant, you felt Daryl grab onto one of your flailing arms, stopping your fall just in time. “Shit,” you breathed, craning your neck to look at the archer. “I guess I deserved that one for sassing you,” you groaned, using your free hand to push yourself up.

You hissed suddenly, pain spreading through the palm of your right hand as you straightened — you’d forgotten all about your little tumble outside of Deanna’s. But before you could get a good look at your palm, Daryl’s hand snaked around your wrist, bring your arm closer to his face. He inspected your hand by the light streaming from the front porch, his expression neutral. “C’mon,” he mumbled, releasing his hold on you, nudging you up the stairs.

You cradled your hand to your chest, the pain sharper now that you were sobering up. But above anything else, you simply felt embarrassed. For drinking too much, for making an ass out of yourself — especially in front of him.

Your head hung low as you carefully maneuvered up the stairs and followed the archer inside. You spared the back of his head one last look before sighing, turning towards the stairs that led to the second floor, determined to stow yourself away in pure mortification.

“Where’re ya goin’?” Daryl’s voice cut through the silence.

You faltered, one foot already on the first step. “Oh —“

“C’mere,” he stated simply, waving you forward as he made his way into the kitchen — it wasn’t a request, you realized a moment later.

Your brows knitted in confusion as you set your jacket down on the railing, following the archer into the next room. You stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching Daryl stomp around the kitchen in a whirlwind, opening and closing cabinets, clearly searching for something. He glanced at you from over his shoulder. “Sit.”

His tone of voice made you feel like a child — but still, you did as he told, sliding down into one of the chairs around the dining table. You propped your head up with your left hand, uncurling the fingers on your right hand to examine the cut.

It wasn’t as bad as you’d thought — there were a couple of scrapes, some deeper than others, and little dark specks inside of the torn skin, most likely rocks or small pieces of gravel.

A soft clink drew your attention and you noticed the archer now standing beside you, a glass of water now placed on the table. “Drink,” he grunted before turning without another word.

You watched his retreating form, your eyes narrowing as he began searching the cabinets once more. “Have you always been this bossy or am I just realizing it now?” you challenged, quirking a brow. Daryl didn’t turn around but you heard a soft grunt which you chose to interpret as a ‘yes’.

You rolled your eyes, but grabbed the glass of water nonetheless, nearly chugging the entire contents in one gulp — you hadn’t even realized you’d been that thirsty. Daryl continued to move about the kitchen, clearly on some kind of mission, searching for something he was having trouble locating. But you were content to sit and simply watch him exist — you’d always found him as somebody you had a hard time not noticing.

You took another long swig of water as the archer reappeared at the table, holding a bowl in one hand and a first aid kit in the other. He set the bowl down and slid it towards you. “Eat,” he rumbled, his tone still demanding as he sat down on the chair diagonal from you.

Whatever smart-ass comment you were about to make fell short when you peered inside the bowl, a soft gasp escaping through your lips as you peeked up at the archer. “Is — is this —” a small smile crept over your face. “Spaghetti?”

“Aaron,” the archer answered simply, sliding a fork towards you.

You picked up the utensil from the table, digging into the meal without a second thought, unable to stop the blissful moan that came out of you after the first bite. “Oh my God,” you sighed around the food in your mouth. “I love him — I, I mean, I truly love him.”

“Alright, easy, girl,” Daryl grumbled, rummaging through the kit before pulling out tweezers, gauze and alcohol wipes.

You laughed softly. “Don’t be jealous,” you teased, shoveling another big forkful of pasta into your mouth.

The archer merely rolled his eyes, though you could’ve sworn his gaze darkened. “Lemme see,” he suddenly grumbled, grabbing the hand you’d injured, laying it onto the tabletop, palm facing the ceiling.

Using your free hand, you continued eating, every mouthful further sobering you up. Your body was starting to feel sluggish, your eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment as you finished your last bite, sighing contently.

You pushed the bowl away as you propped your head up with your free hand, watching the archer’s steady movements. He picked up the tweezers, resting them between his fingertips as he slid his other hand beneath yours, bringing your palm closer to his face. His eyes narrowed as he inspected the cut on your hand, using the dimmed light above the kitchen table to survey the damage done.

He pulled your fingers back slightly, the skin on your palm stretching as he hunched over, his soft breath tickling your skin. His touch was surprisingly gentle, you realized then.

“Huh,” you breathed softly, the corner of your mouth quirking up.

Daryl glanced up, regarding you warily. “What?” he mumbled, almost self-consciously.

“Dr. Dixon,” you waggled your eyebrows, a soft laugh slipping through your lips as the archer rolled his eyes, though you could’ve sworn you saw the tips of his ears suddenly turn pink.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, though his tone lacked any harshness. He brought the tweezers to your skin, slowly pushing them deeper into your palm until he was able to grasp an imbedded piece of gravel.

You winced, fighting back the urge to curl your hand into a fist. Daryl glanced up at you, scanning your features for a moment before he continued removing the small pieces of rock, moving a fraction slower than before.

Daryl was efficient — he had your wound cleaned and bandaged within minutes, neither of you uttering a word the entire time. You were content to just watch, keeping your gaze on his features to distract you from the burning sensation on your palm. He was incredibly focused — looking as though he was diffusing bomb instead of simply wrapping your hand in gauze.

His brow was furrowed, eyes narrowed — though that seemed to be a permanent feature of his. You suddenly felt this overwhelming urge to touch him, to brush away some of the worry etched on his face — to just be closer to him.

But you fought back the urge, instead bumping your knee against his to draw his attention. “Hey,” you murmured as your eyes locked. “Everything’s gonna be okay, you know.”

Daryl was quiet for a moment, his gaze searching yours before he finished the last wrap, releasing your hand from his.

“I mean it,” you pressed, sighing softly. “Even if it doesn’t work out here, we’re gonna be alright. I need you to know that, D. I just —“ you exhaled, blowing a strand of hair out of your face. “I’m here if you need anything, okay? Anything.”

The archer remained silent, a flash of something flitting across his features as his eyes flickered down to look at your lips before locking with yours once more. “Ya got somethin’ on your face,” he suddenly murmured.

“What!” you squeaked out, leaning away from him abruptly, feeling your face flush.

Daryl pointed to the corner of his lips. “There,” he motioned, his mouth twitching as though he was struggling to keep a straight face.

Your lips formed into a pout as you pathetically felt around your face. “I was just trying to have a moment with you — you know what, whatever!” you fussed dramatically as you wiped your face, realizing a moment too late that you’d used the back of your bandaged hand. You looked down at the red stains now soaking into the gauze. “Spaghetti sauce,” you whispered defeatedly, glancing up at the archer.

Daryl was still for a moment before his face softened, a deep, rumbling laugh coming from his chest — the sound so rare it immediately caught you off guard.

And so you sat back in your seat, fondly watching the archer, desperately wanting to savor the fleeting moment.

Daryl’s gaze caught yours and his laugh faded, in its place a small, somewhat sad smile. His features settled after a moment before he lowered his head — you couldn’t place the emotion he was suddenly exuding, but it seemed to resemble something like embarrassment.

For letting his tough exterior slip? For allowing a moment of joy to overcome him?

You weren’t sure.

All you knew was that you’d give anything — anything — to soothe his bruised and weary soul.

You regarded him carefully, studying his features under the dimmed kitchen light — his guarded eyes, focused downward, his pressed lips, only parting when he brought the side of his thumb between them, the faint scar above his right eyebrow, peeking through the hair that fell over his face.

Then without thinking, you reached forward.

You didn’t miss the way Daryl flinched at your sudden movement, his entire body going rigid. You faltered, pushing past the unexpected heartache you felt. Your outstretched fingers hovered between you before you extended your reach, gently brushing back the hair that covered the archer’s eyes. “There,” you whispered, a somber smile flickering across your lips.

A beat of stillness passed as Daryl’s gaze searched yours, clearly caught off guard but a look in his eyes you had never seen before.

You exhaled, hoping the archer couldn’t hear the shakiness within your breath as you leaned back. “I —” you breathed quietly, attempting to collect yourself. “I should probably get some sleep,” you murmured, pushing past the lump in your throat, afraid of what would happen if you spent one more second with such little space between you.

“Mhm,” Daryl mumbled, nodding once, his expression unreadable though the air between you was buzzing — practically electric — every nerve ending in your body feeling as though they’d been set ablaze. It was as though there was some sort of magnetic pull, drawing you together, the distance between you becoming smaller and smaller until —

The front door suddenly splintered opened, you and Daryl simultaneously jumping to your feet at the intrusion, heavy breaths mirroring each other as you spun towards the noise.

Acting on pure instinct, Daryl yanked his hunting knife from the sheath hanging from his belt, taking a defensive step forward, part of his body automatically moving to shield you.

But when Sasha came into view, storming past the kitchen and up the stairs without a second glance, you let out the breath you’d been holding, your head dropping into your hands as your cheeks flushed, the moment prior finally registering.

What the fuck was that.

From the corner of your eye, you watched Daryl slowly retract his knife, slipping it back into its sheath. You snuck a glance at him, his body so still you weren’t even sure he was breathing.

You dropped your hands with a huff, carefully maneuvering around the archer without touching him, keeping your gaze forward as you slowly walked to the kitchen doorway. You paused once you reached the entrance, turning around to glance back at Daryl, who remained frozen in place.

“Uh,” you murmured awkwardly, gnawing on your bottom lip for a moment, trying to push past the fuzziness you felt in your stomach. “I’m — I’m gonna head to bed. Uh, thank you —“ you held up your bandaged hand. “Thank you for this,” you finished, awkwardly waving at the archer.

Daryl’s eyes remained fixed on the far wall, motionless, avoiding your gaze completely.

You sighed quietly, feeling like a fool for whatever had transpired before — and though you knew you should’ve just gone straight to bed, you couldn’t help the next words that came tumbling from your lips. “I’m sorry — shit, I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know what happened, but I didn’t mean — you and I —“ you huffed a breath, throwing your hands up. “Damn it, I don’t know. I’m just — I’m sorry.”

You were mortified — even more so when Daryl barely even flinched at your words, acting as though he hadn’t even heard them at all. You sighed quietly, turning to leave when suddenly, the archer spoke.

“Y/N?” his voice seemed thick, like it’d caught in his throat.

You locked eyes with him from over your shoulder, your heart beating a fraction faster. “Hm?” you hummed, not trusting your voice.

He was silent for what seemed like forever until he straightened, as if he was attempting to build some courage, steeling himself for whatever he was about to say. “Ya don’t ever gotta apologize ta’ me,” he rumbled simply.

You let his words settle, the intent behind them more meaningful than you could even comprehend in that moment. A small smile grew across your lips as you nodded slowly, a familiar heat flushing across your features. “Goodnight, Daryl,” you whispered, pushing away from the doorway and towards the stairs.

And as your foot landed on the first step, you heard a soft mumble echo from the other room.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

A/N: So...how did y’all like this one!?

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[violencebian]

rant // (sort of? i wrote it like that but i mostly just want your opinion on this matter; sorry if that's confusing)

i'm very sick of people defending those who fake having DID (and mental illnesses & disabilities in general) because "if they're faking it that must mean they have their own mental problems/illnesses."

like? just because someone had a mental illness doesn't mean they have a right to talk over (and often profit from) actually mentally ill and disabled people. having depression doesn't make someone immune to consequences.

oooh alright i see

when it comes to this i think my stance is pretty simple but it is circumstantial so bare with me if this seems rambly or off topic for a hot sec

i think most cases of this issue can fall into two main categories: accidentally "faking" a disorder and purposefully, meaning actually faking said disorder.

for example: if someone misunderstood their symptoms, self-diagnosed with the wrong disorder or thought they had a disorder they didn't i would be ay-okay with it and be fine with it as long as they came clean when they realized and admitted they misunderstood their disorder and don't actually have what they originally said they did. this is also the case if a psychotic person were to have a delusion of a disorder

BUT on the flip side if they're intentionally faking a disorder then yes, they absolutely deserve full consequences. we've been over that mental illness =/= an excuse for behavior so many times but so often it only comes down to disorders that face heavy ableism like psychotic disorders, personality disorders, adhd, and autism. if someone has depression but fakes bipolar for example then they should still be held just as accountable as anyone else. while i dont necessarily think mentally ill ppl and children, especially mentally ill children should be held to the same standards as a mentally healthy, fully functioning adult mental illness still isn't an excuse for faking a disorder.

but i do agree that if someone logs onto the internet and decides to fake a disorder then yes, there likely is something wrong. the reasons they'd be doing it could range from a cry for help to just doing it for attention and in both cases it's likely there is something wrong. but like i said before mental illness isn't an excuse for faking another mental illness

ALSO quickly adding onto that (forgot to mention this originally oops): someone faking a disorder is not an excuse to play online therapist and i think its appropriate to suspect someone might be mentally ill or have something going on it's also no one's business and no one needs to sit around on the internet speculating why person xyz is faking disorders and trying to diagnose them with npd or hpd or whatever personality disorder people wanna slap on the first bad person they meet

#ask #nonnies #hope this made sense djiuhfukhff

[windsource]

So uh you don’t have to answer this but for your adhd what’s it like? Or well yeah that and how long have you know you have adhd because I just- I don’t have the opportunity to get tested until I’m 18 and I don’t wanna self diagnose but it’s something that’s bothering me and I’m genuinely curious

ok kinda said a lot so it's under the cut. i broke it up so it wasnt a huge paragraph because i know those are unappealing with the adhd brain lmao

aha... ooo, where to start. i guess i should first of all say that i also havent had the opportunity to get tested...but it all started here? sort of?

i made this account in october and i expressed through some rambles that i felt i might have adhd but didn't want to self diagnose. i've been to therapy & i was diagnosed with depression, anxiety and ptsd a few years ago, but honestly the therapy experience was just Bad for me because of Reasons and i've been wary of going back (and also my parents aren't very supportive of therapy or anything to do with mental health stuff...so.) *

*edit: i should also mention that i'm someone who likes to feel out...labels? i guess? and things of that nature to make sure i'm certain about it (or as certain as possible) before committing to it. this happened for my gender & sexuality as well as the mental illnesses i thought i might have before i was diagnosed. usually this includes years of internal debate and further research and self analysis...so i. yeah i would never want to just say i have adhd just because.

anyways, in the ask i linked + some others, i was told that it was okay to self diagnose adhd if you've been noticing symptoms for a while? (i believe because it's hard for adults to get an accurate diagnosis... anyway? but don't quote me on that) and i had been, i'd been 👀 for like a year prior but hadn't mentioned it much to anyone because i again...didn't wanna self diagnose.

leading up to me talking about it on here though, it's just like. i've had a lot of time to observe myself during covid/quarantine and come to new... realizations? my parents pointed out to me MORE than once that i was constantly stimming (i mean they didn't call it that, but that's what it was--i was never sitting still & they'd tell me to like. relax. whenever we watched a movie. i snap my fingers a lot when my mom's being slow getting groceries, and also tap my foot/jog my leg which is actually something i've always done but never really noticed, constantly picking at the skin around my nails or at my lips, etc etc)

and then i had the shittiest college quarter of my LIFE because i doubled up on units like an IDIOT but it was around november...which. you know how we all were during november, ok. we were a collective mess. and i just couldn't (still can't) concentrate on school like normal. i (haha..used to) care a lot about school, and my parents were like 👀 what is going ON why are you so stressed but it was because i couldnt focus on a SINGLE assignment for more than 1 minute at a time

so naturally i complained about it on here and asked for ways to study with adhd? because i hadnt looked into it before? and i kid you not... all the suggestions worked. all of them. i actually got the shit done without turning it in late and it was!! a miracle

but yeah, that kinda cemented it for me. that, and having friends on here that told me it was perfectly okay to say i have it/noticed me doing stuff like jumping from thought to thought on my instagram stories or stimming or whatever, which felt pretty validating i guess. i mean sometimes i still doubt that i do have it, but i hope to get tested sometime when i feel it's okay to do so

anyways to sum it all up because i know this was a lot

lack of concentration/difficulty staying focused on one task for too long/procrastinating like crazy

finding it hard to sit still (fidgeting, moving, stimming)

forgetfulness (which i forgot to add... uh. {edit: LMAO I FORGOT TO ADD FORGETFULNESS SHAHDJ} one time i forgot to pay my tuition and got fined a late fee for 100$...oops)

not wanting to do things that require a lot of mental effort (like the essay i'm avoiding rn!)

jumping from thought to thought without really completing the first one (like. for example. "okay yesterday i was watching--okay no wait you know how dean's a bottom?? ok so i was thinking. wait wait okay he's a bottom but it makes sense because the episode i was. hh. fuck okay wait. YOU KNOW how cas wears a striped tie. ok. i swear this makes sense just let me get a grip.")

were the main ones off the top of my head, but here are also some resources that may help!

#hope this...helps? #pls dont repost #anonymous #adhd #rambles #not spn #advice #sort of #adhd talk

[i-like-plan-m]

About your LWJ can hear lies AU- I can’t help but wonder how he would react to Nie Huaisang and Jin Guangyao since they are both known for being expert manipulators, especially since it’s hinted at that Nie Huaisang had a lot to do with the WW and MX thing. So I wondered if Huaisang would find a way around LWJ’s lie detecting or if he even knows about it? Also, I can just imagine the PAIN LWJ would be in if he had to talk to Jin Guangyao

Oops, I forgot to link this on tumblr! My bad! This is chapter 3 of the lies au

The trip to Qinghe was familiar by now. 

Years of flight between the sects meant Lan Zhan could make the trip with his eyes closed. He kept them open, because the sight of the Qinghe mountain range always brought a sense of relief that was as sharp as the cold air.  

The sight at the gates was becoming a familiar one, too. Nie Huiyin waited for him with all the patience she was capable of, her constant restless energy directed into a small but impeccably crafted blade that she was sharpening like it had done something to offend her. 

It was just her way, Lan Zhan had learned. Nie Mingjue’s cousin was as brusque as he was, infinitely more cheerful and possibly the loudest person Lan Zhan had ever met in his life. She was also, however, the most refreshingly honest person in all five of the great sects, save for perhaps Nie Mingjue himself. 

“Ah!” She said brightly as he landed before her, stepping gracefully from his sword and sweeping it back into the sheath on his back. “It’s our little Lan Zhan, back again!” 

He refused to acknowledge the blush heating his ears and instead nodded in greeting. His composed response did not deter her from tossing a friendly arm around his shoulders and hauling him through the open gates, past the grinning guards and into the towering grasp of the Unclean Realm walls. 

“How have you been, shidi?” She asked. The Nie Sect, Lan Zhan had quickly discovered, lived up to their imposing reputation of strength and honor. They were also the friendliest people in the world, once they’d decided you were theirs. 

Once Lan Zhan's was unofficially acknowledged as a member of the sect leader’s family-- or at least someone held in high regard by Nie-zongzhu himself, the floodgates had opened. He couldn’t decide whether their open affection was embarrassing or not, but it did fill him with a warmth he was unfamiliar with, one that felt like unconditional acceptance. As though they wanted him here. As though they liked him.

He had never had friends before. 

Well. He wasn’t entirely positive that he had any now. But regardless, the Nie Sect disciples treated him with regard. They smiled when they saw him. They welcomed him in their training exercise despite the differences in their sects’ fighting styles. 

Some, like Nie Huiyin, treated him as though he was a part of their sect. Another of Nie Mingjue’s little brothers to look out for, to keep tabs on like he was incapable of taking care of himself. 

It would be insulting if it hadn’t felt so much like acceptance. 

“I have been progressing,” Lan Zhan reported dutifully. “My control has improved further since my last visit.” He didn’t react to lies like someone had stabbed him in the ear the way he once had. With age came control, and a higher pain tolerance, apparently. 

Nie Huiyin made a sound of exasperation. “You Lans, I swear. I meant how have you been? Done anything fun lately?” She jostled him to punctuate her questions. He was slightly cheered by the fact that she had to reach higher than usual to rest an arm over his shoulders; he’d finally hit his growth spurt this summer and was nearing his brother’s height. 

“I mastered Inquiry,” he offered. 

She squinted at him suspiciously. “Is that what you do for fun?” 

“I enjoy it, yes.” 

“Hm. Acceptable. Though my rock climbing offer still stands if you want real fun. There’s nothing more exhilarating than free-falling from a thousand feet, shidi!” Lan Zhan gave a doubtful noise in response that made her laugh. “We catch ourselves before the bottom and take the rest of the fall on our sabers. And then!”

And then they raced through the most dangerous mountain pass in Qinghe on their sabers, chasing adrenaline with as many death-defying stunts they could manage until the pass ended in a dead-drop of a hundred feet. Most of them followed the waterfall straight into the large lake at the bottom. Most of the Nie disciples were reckless enough to try it at least once.

“Scorpion Alley,” he said, familiar with the sect’s unofficial rite of passage. 

“You got it,” she agreed cheerfully. “We still haven’t gotten you out there, have we?” 

“You will not,” he assured her, and bit back a smile when her laugh echoed across the training grounds. It was so different here than in his sect. There was little composure in Qinghe, no reason to stifle laughter or keep words hushed. 

Composure, he’d learned, was another word for concealment. Disguising one’s truthful feelings to reflect serenity instead. A mask that hid the turmoil beneath for the sake of propriety.

It was a lie all the same. 

“I hear your sect is hosting guest disciples next year,” Nie Huiyin said, steering him towards the main hall. 

“Yes.” He made a halfhearted attempt to sound neutral. He must have failed, because she snorted a laugh as she shoved open the doors of the main hall where Nie Mingjue sat, sorting through a stack of reports with a cranky expression. A slender, unfamiliar man with a dimpled smile stood beside the desk, holding a massive accounting book and waiting patiently for Nie Mingjue to stop muttering under his breath. 

Nie Mingjue looked up as the doors swung open. He brightened almost immediately, standing to welcome Lan Zhan with such genuine delight that Lan Zhan ducked his head, pleased. 

“Welcome back,” he said, clapping a hand on his shoulder and leading him to one of the nearby tables, gesturing for a servant to bring tea. He sat across from Lan Zhan while Nie Huiyin leaned against a column behind him. “How was the trip?”

“Fine,” Lan Zhan said, and tried not to sound petulant. He was almost sixteen, perfectly capable of making the trip from Gusu to Qinghe without trouble. 

“It’s the da-ge instinct, little Lan,” Nie Huiyin said with a laugh, nudging Nie Mingjue with her knee when he scowled up at her. “He can’t help himself.” 

The unfamiliar man hovered in the background as though unsure what to do without Nie MIngjue’s attention. Lan Zhan blinked at him, still unclear on who this newcomer was or how he’d climbed to Nie Mingjue’s side so quickly. Lan Zhan visited often enough that he would have noticed a new person in Nie Mingjue’s inner circle before today, surely. 

Nie Mingjue noticed his distraction and turned to wave the man over. “Ah. Apologies, you two have not met.” The stranger obediently crossed the room and bowed low to Lan Zhan. “This is Lan Wangji, the Second Jade of Lan. And this is Meng Yao, my new deputy.” 

“It is an honor to finally meet you, Lan-er-gongzi.” 

Lan Zhan nodded politely in response and wondered at the faint whisper of a slipped note that accompanied his words. Not quite a lie, but there was something underlying that sounded… off. 

“Da-ge,” Nie Huisang complained, sweeping into the room with a sulking expression. “I already did my saber training today as promised, and Nie Zonghui is trying to make me do more. This is cruel and unjust and-- oh, hi Lan Wangji.” 

“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Zhan murmured. 

“Lan Wangji,” Nie Huiasang said brightly, throwing himself down beside them. “Tell me, doesn’t your clan have a rule or twelve about keeping promises?” 

“A-Sang,” Nie Mingjue said tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Behind him, Meng Yao hid a smile like he’d witnessed many similar discussions like this one. 

Then again, so had Lan Zhan. The Nie’s bickering was as constant as stars in the sky. It had taken some getting used to, but now Lan Zhan let it pass over him as background noise. It was all born from a place of love, and even the small lies (like Nie Huaisang’s mistruth about the duration of his promised saber practice) were easily ignored. 

Meng Yao, though. He was odd. 

Lan Zhan kept his face carefully neutral whenever Meng Yao’s smiles rang false, which was… often. He smiled like he knew it was expected of him, not because he wanted to. Like he was playing a role, either for the sect leader’s benefit or his own. 

It had been a few years since his lessons with Lan Xichen on the reasons why people lie, but most of it was… still hard to understand. So when Meng Yao responded to direction throughout the rest of Lan Zhan’s visit with a demure, “I would be honored, Sect Leader” and it rang discordant every time, Lan Zhan thought it was perhaps time to ask for help. 

Only a few years ago, Lan Zhan had accidentally exposed an advisor in Qinghe who had been bought off by merchants in the city. Every bit of his advice and own influence had been manipulated to support the merchants. 

Of course, when Lan Zhan was in the room and realized the advisor’s input sounded like a drunkard playing a dizi, he’d signaled to Nie Mingjue, who then rooted out the reason for his lies. Lan Zhan was not capable of doing so himself-- he only knew when people lied, never their reason for it. 

Shortly after Nie Mingjue had personally tossed the advisor out of the Unclean Realm’s gates, Lan Zhan had discovered a shadow wandering around on his heels. 

“How’d you know he was lying?” Nie Huaisang asked curiously. He continued when Lan Zhan stood frozen in place, unsure how to respond. “I saw your cue to da-ge. The hand signal?”

“I…” He had no idea what to do. Brush him off? Explain his mother’s gift? Deny it entirely? 

No. That was dishonest. 

He swallowed hard and admitted, “I can hear lies.” 

“Really?” Nie Huaisang’s eyes brightened. “So you knew the advisor was corrupt?” 

“No. Just that he lied.” 

“Hm. Interesting. So just the lie, not the intention?” The ever-present fan fluttered as Nie Huaisang stared thoughtfully at him. He nodded once in agreement. “You hear it?”

Lan Zhan realized he’d been absently following Nie Huaisang’s meandering pace along one of the walls. They were alone, so he reluctantly shared, “It was a gift from my mother, before she died. I hear conversations like music, and lies are…”

“Horrible, mangled sounds?” Nie Huaisang asked dryly. “My music tutors tell me that’s what I sound like when I play, anyway.” 

His face did not show the flicker of humor he felt. “Yes.”

“Is there anything other than the curse that tells you when they lie? Like, if their voice sounds nervous or their breathing is too fast?” 

Lan Zhan paused. He’d never thought of that, of looking past the sound of the curse to identify the physiological aspects of the liars. Why would he? There was irrefutable proof from the curse. 

But not looking further felt… lazy. Like willful ignorance. That he could not abide. 

“I will observe from now on,” he decided. 

“Me too!” Nie Huaisang caught his skeptical side-eye, because he sighed like he alone bore the weight of the universe and said, “I’m just saying, it seems like a useful skill. That advisor got past me, too, you know, and I spend a lot of time listening to their incredibly boring conversations.” 

“Boring conversations about running the sect.” If the disapproval wasn’t clear on his face, it was evident in his tone. 

“Exactly,” Nie Huaisang agreed. “But I learned my lesson, Lan-er-gongzi, all thanks to you! We should practice together, don’t you think? How about just before lunch every day?” 

“That is the time of your saber training,” Lan Zhan, who was not an idiot, said. 

“Is it?” Nie Huaisang asked, blinking innocently at him. “Ah, well, da-ge can’t complain if I’m busy making our favorite guest feel welcome!” 

“We will spar together before lunch,” Lan Zhan decided, ignoring Nie Huaisang’s horrified expression. “And then study during lunch.” 

“No,” Nie Huaisang wailed. “How can I learn to read people if I’ve been pummeled into the dirt by the Second Jade of Lan?”

“I would not,” Lan Zhan said, offended. “You are not capable of a legitimate spar--” 

“No shit!” 

“--so instead I will help with your training.” 

“Somehow this turned out very badly for me,” Nie Huaisang muttered, but he was at the training grounds mostly on time later that day all the same. 

That was two years ago. 

After two years of shared study, they had something that was not quite a friendship. Lan Zhan had never lost the sense of awkwardness around Nie Huaisang-- he was never quite sure how to interact, wasn’t sure what his role was in this relationship. 

Nie Huaisang mostly just complained to him about everything under the sun. But every time Lan Zhan visited, he showed up to the training grounds with an expression of utmost suffering. He only remembered his saber half the time, and he tripped over his own feet often enough Lan Zhan feared for his life, but he showed up. 

So Lan Zhan knew his concerns would be heard if he took them to Nie Huaisang. Maybe he would have more insight into Meng Yao’s oddities-- Nie Huaisang understood people the way Lan Zhan didn’t. He couldn’t hear lies, but he could see them. 

Most of the time, anyway. He’d learned to read faces where Lan Zhan heard the mistruths. It was a training method with guaranteed reliability, and Nie Huaisang’s success had surprised him. Apparently he was highly capable when he actually applied himself. Too bad he didn’t want to. 

Still. He would listen to Lan Zhan, and he would help. That much was certain.

#this is late #sorry i forgot to answer the actual prompt lol #featuring my chaotic lesbian oc #nie huiyin #because i wanted more women in it #in the shadow of moonlit flowers #my fics #my writing #the untamed #mdzs #asks #anon #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #lan wangji #lan zhan #meng yao #prompts

[tenacityreturns]

aokaga fic alert!

plot: in which kagami and aomine talk about beautiful soul by jesse mccartney and also accidentally injure each other ♥  rating: sfw, very domestic, it’s just them being stupid idiots. also i wrote this in one sitting without taking breaks or reading over it so.... haha.... word count: 2098

it all started with two guys, chilling on the sofa, going through each other’s phones. or more specifically, the music apps (and kagami’s photo reel, but don’t tell anyone because aomine had only gone in looking for something of nigou!). whenever kagami encounters a song title that interests him, he’ll click on it and let about ten seconds play before he changes song again. he gets the idea. 

aomine, meanwhile, will let the songs he finds play in full. not because he respects the skip button and doesn’t want to overuse it, but because he doesn’t understand english and it becomes background noise. he’s just chilling now. legs stretched out over the couch and on top of kagami’s knees, his back leans on the armrest and he thinks about dinner instead. how cheeky he’s feeling with directly impact how extravagant his dining requests will be.

“i just took a screenshot,” kagami says blankly, with a light frown on his face.

“why?”

“i wanted to remember this song, it’s kinda cool.”

“but you’re using my---”

“yeah i know that, i forgot.”

aomine half smiles, returning to the screen. dummy. “i’ll send it to you later.”

he decides to lightly hack his boyfriend and dives onto his instagram. looks up his own page, saves a recent selfie, uploads it from kagami’s account. first, he thinks about captioning it something like sexy, or why is this guy so hot??? but decides against it and instead writes ‘i’ll never be as cool as him :(’ haha. good, harmless prank. who’s this girl that liked it immediately, huh! well, they follow each other, but aomine doesn’t like how snooping around like this is making him feel. his blue eyes will raise, taking in the sight of kagami tapping his hand against aomine’s shin in time with the song. his lips are moving, then his shoulders.

is he... sort of singing along? but to which song? he can’t hear the music from his own phone well enough with kagami’s so nearby, but then... he doesn’t recognise this american music... hm. aomine’s fond smile is forced into a smirk for dignity’s sake.

“what are you doing?”

“huh?” kagami blinks, and the tapping stops. “i used to love this song.”

“used to? it’s on your recently heard playlist, dude.”

“it’s a classic.”

“is it? i never heard of it.”

“me and niji sing it all the time, y’know, just around.”

“okay,” this emotion, unlike the snooping guilt, is straight up jealousy. shut up about nijimura already! we get it! you’re friends! “what’s it about?”

“uh,” cogs turn. his lips move again, maybe in time with the song’s lyrics? aomine isn’t sure. “like, he’s singing about not caring about looks. just... you know, wanting the person’s beautiful soul. that’s what it’s called.”

“sappy,” what a loser. this sounds like the kind of thing satsuki would be interested in for sure. aomine gets an instagram notification from kise and ignores it, then remembers his prank and that this is kagami’s phone! he opens the app again and that blond bastard has written a comment: 

‘looks like you need a new password kagamicchi!’ 

and seen right through the prank! dumb luck. except--- here’s tetsu commenting: 

‘you should never leave your phone with untrustworthy people, kagami-kun.’ 

shut the hell up!

but his oblivious rival distracts the on-coming fury by starting to sing. the tapping against his shin has started again, and he’s still scrolling through the playlist and changing songs, but singing this beautiful soul song. in english. show off! ah, he’s got a nice voice though. and he looks real cute sitting there like that. aomine doesn’t suspect kagami of snooping through the photo reel or posting to instagram, in fact: the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. aomine’s head rocks to lean against the back cushions of the sofa. his fond smile returns.

“you singing about me, bakagami?”

of course he’ll find a way to ruin a perfectly nice moment, and a fleeting glimpse of serenity in his boyfriend. kagami doesn’t look away from his phone, but says something in english that sounded like a comeback. aomine presses his heel into kagami’s thigh, but it incites a more genuine flinch that he’d been expecting and both legs are instantly retracted.

“sorry,” aomine blurts, “i forgot about your leg.”

“what about it?” kagami replies breezily in japanese again ( that is, as breezily as possible through gritted teeth ).

hello again, guilt! aomine rests his knees against the couch, peering around them to watch kagami recover. if he doesn’t in five seconds, aomine will--- no, he can’t last that long. he sits up.

“ah, man, can i get you something?”

“i’m fine, it’s just cramping from sitting so long,”

this guy! they’d not been sitting for half an hour yet! he’s just saying that so aomine won’t feel bad... the bastard... of course he’s going to feel bad!

“wipe that look off your face!” kagami exclaims, “now get outta my way so i can lie down.”

he doesn’t look pissed off, or in pain anymore, which is something. god, wouldn’t it just be easier if kagami could tell him when his half-hearted grumpy statements are genuine or when they’re just him speaking and sounding angry because it’s how he talks? 

aomine rolls himself off the sofa. “is your leg okay?” 

“don’t worry about it,” the redhead returns to aomine’s phone but extends his arm off the sofa. an invitation to join him? but can’t he just say that he isn’t mad right now? ah, look! now he’s glaring at him! “daiki. are you gonna make me say it?”

“say what?”

kagami crunches forward and the arm, still extended, reaches for aomine’s hand. of course he’ll accept the gesture. one second, they’re holding hands ( safe, comfortable, in understanding ), and the next, aomine is falling onto the couch and acutely aware of making sure he doesn’t land on the bad leg.

“be careful!” he scolds, arms bracing against the back of the couch, knees safely avoiding kagami’s limbs. “sheesh!”

“i said don’t worry, didn’t i?”

“i dunno, you talk a lot of shit,” how come aomine’s pissed off at him now!

“what!” kagami launches forward and wraps one of his arms around aomine’s waist, dragging him back as he lies down again.

“taiga!” aomine’s still more concerned about the injury.

“shut up about my fuckin’ leg or i’ll snap you like a toothpick!”

ugh! fine, alright. he’ll give in. aomine definitely sends kagami a look. it’s short-lived, though, and he finds a teasing smile. his hand rests on kagami’s massive bicep. “with these muscles? good luck with a real toothpick, buddy.”

“shut the fuck up, i’ll show you!”

there’s no doubt that kagami hadn’t actually intended to show him, but aomine’s back lasts a total of two seconds of a too-tight hug before it cracks. loudly. it didn’t hurt. caught him off guard, yes, makes him have to pause and stretch his back for a second, sure, but it didn’t hurt. kagami’s staring, aomine notices. not immediately apologising despite the sound, he sees! red eyes are wide, lips tightly turned downwards. he’s waiting to check the damage before damage control kicks in.

“you good?”

“is that all you got?”

“sorry about your back,”

aomine lowers down to lie chest-to-chest. he adjusts so that it’s comfortable to lie with his head on kagami’s shoulder. “yep.”

“does it hurt?”

“nope.”

“good,” and just like that, an arm drapes around aomine’s shoulders and they’re lying in almost silence again. kagami’s phone is somewhere on the other end of the sofa, still playing that muffled song. how long does it go on for?! that beautiful whatever conversation feels like it happened hours ago! of course, it had been the singing that started the teasing which sparked the retort which justified a prod, which had hurt and begun this mess. aomine exhales. kagami starts humming along to what aomine has guessed is the chorus.

“what sorta sappy shit is he saying now?” he closes his eyes.

“uh,” kagami begins to translate the lyrics disjointedly, really having to think about it before he says it in japanese.

I don't want another pretty face I don't want just anyone to hold I don't want my love to go to waste I want you and your beautiful soul

“it sounds better in english,” he then explains, “and when jesse sings it.”

“nah,”

“what do you mean nah?”

oops. well, yeah! alright. so aomine likes kagami’s voice better than this jesse person’s! big whoop! “nothing. so you were definitely singing about me, then.”

“yeah, i got sick of dating hot people and decided to settle.”

“shut the fuck up,” aomine’s smiling, knowing full well that kagami’s not dated anybody before. cheeky little shit!

“all the d-cup supermodels in america, you know.”

“i thought i told you to zip it?” he lifts his head. the stare-off doesn’t last long before kagami just straight up kisses him on the cheek! “hey!”

“can i have my phone back?”

he deliberates being difficult. deliberates telling kagami to get it himself, that he doesn’t know where it is, or just no. for fun, mostly. but then, that kiss had been really cute... and kagami had been kind of nice just now, before the bullshit, about translating and stuff... fine. this once, kagami’s off the hook. saved, even. aomine pushes ( carefully! ) up, finds the phone precariously close to the edge of the sofa, and returns to his place. once comfortable, he’ll hand it over. ah! the prank! he’d forgotten about that. kagami gives aomine his phone too and they are once again silent.

huh. that sure is a lot of facebook likes. his last picture wasn’t even that interesting. or was it? aomine opens the app, trying to recall what it could be about. did he get notifications for likes on things he’d shared? aomine rarely shared anything. oh, to be fair, he did share a video of nigou yesterday saying “he’s the only member of seirin i respect”... was it... that?

a picture aomine absolutely did not post is at the top of his own feed. it’s the seirin team picture, but, naturally, aomine had first seen only tetsu and kagami ( the others are definitely there, but not as interesting or important to look at, you know? ). posted twenty minutes ago. captioned: “i apologise for my last post about seirin, i’m a big idiot. they are really cool”

“hey!” aomine lifts his head up again, though this time, with an expression full of accusation. it meets kagami’s equally offended gaze.

“you posted to my instagram!”

“you posted to facebook! that’s worse!”

“no way!”

“yeah way!”

“everyone knew i got hacked, though,” he grins, “you ain’t slick at all.”

“as if i would ever call myself a big idiot, ever. they would instantly know you posted that to facebook. who else thinks seirin is cool?”

“everyone with brains!”

“bullshit!”

“idiot,”

“dumbass,”

aomine set his head down again. so much for trustworthy boyfriend, kagami taiga! though... isn’t it kind of funny that they both, separately, decided to post to each other’s social media? he’s trying hard to be pissed off about it, but the smile is too strong and, once again, he’s smiling over something kagami has done. satsuki comments under that hacked facebook post:

‘two sides of the same coin.’

which, to the unaware, means nothing. in reality, it makes him think of that thing he’s still accidentally in the habit of saying sometimes. the only one who can beat me is me. maybe kagami really is similar to himself after all? however, it’s hard to imagine that they’re that similar. aomine really likes kagami, after all.

“hey, taiga?”

maybe aomine will tell him he loves him again. does it cheapen it if he’d said it yesterday as well?

“yeah?”

“what’s for dinner?”

chicken.

“chicken, i think.”

aomine blinks. that was almost spooky.

“taiga?”

“still here,”

“love you.”

“pfff,” it’s a scoff! “lame.” insulting!”

aomine pinches him gently in the side. it makes him laugh, even if kagami isn’t that ticklish.

“alright! love you too, obviously. i kissed you, didn’t i?”

“yeah, yeah, yeah. chicken sounds good.”

“are you gonna tell me you love chicken, too? who’s the sap now?”

someone explain why such an irritating response would make aomine’s chest swell as much as that kiss on the cheek? yeah, he’s dead sure if he hadn’t been before. he loves you, kagami taiga, you dumbass, so much. of course he does. they’re two sides of the same coin.

#aokaga #aokaga fic #knb #knb fic #aonon. #drabbles. #this is stupid i just LOVE how they talk tho............................... theyre so fun to write #this is truly all over the place and it's really 1am #so miserable that it's 1am

[theosymphany]

The Canary

A short fic as Chris and Piers discusses more mundane matters as Piers settles in his team. One shot. Early days Nivanfield.

It was 1358. The new lieutenant to Alpha team had planned it to the minute. He had his lunch early, went over the notes he had made, reviewed the things he had on file and mentally went through every last conversation he’s had with the team and of course, his Captain. He checked over himself at the mirror too. Captain is relaxed on grooming standards, but his first lesson from meeting Chris was ‘Do as I say, not as I do.’

He took the longer route to the Captain’s office, not out of habit, but because there’s less chance he’ll be interrupted or run into someone. He wanted to be on time, and have his thoughts where he needed them.

He set off on a purposeful, brisk pace, folder of reports in hand, taking long, measured strides that pass off as confident and looking busy and important enough. Hazel eyes scanned around the perimeters for any unplanned incursions, but he knows deep down he needn’t worry. Staying hidden is his specialty he had mastered, in plain sight, if needed. That said though, he hadn’t been fully able to dodge the spotlight since his time at the BSAA. Being second to the legendary Chris Redfield, afterall, is a high profile role, and the Captain himself isn’t quite a man of subtlety.

He knew as he arrived that the clock had just ticked over to 1400. Captain’s door would usually be open, but he would give four unhurried but confident taps should it be closed. Has he got anything? Should he have brought a treat? Food can be an icebreaker, though the Captain must have a pretty strict diet regime to maintain his bulk…

Focus Piers. He told himself as he banished all irrelevant thoughts.

He could see now that the door was open, letting some rays of the afternoon sun into the otherwise slightly gloomy office. The captain sat at his desk, clawing his mouse, his thick brows furrowed just a little to bring out a few creases. This could be bad.

“Capt-“

“Ah Piers.” Relief fell off the Captain’s face, the five o’clock shadow that usually forms by lunchtime had made him look slightly broody, but the smile was genuine. “Come. Pull up a chair.” He cocked his head to the guest chair beside him.

Piers nodded lightly. All his others commanders usually sat him across the table where they’d have feet up and arms back, as if to silently scream how important they are. Their desks though, usually afforded such luxuries, and the space for it.

Captain Chris Redfield’s desk would be, as his mother would call it, ‘a perennially rueful mess’ bereft of military rigour, but Piers had learnt by day two on base that Captain Redfield sets the rules. Or rather, breaks them at convenience for himself. Piers may never have to worry about an inspection, but also means he’s in that uncomfortable position managing what the enlisted men would consider ‘double standards’.

Regardless, he sat, back straight and attentive, being more than a little pleased that he’s so close to the Captain he could feel the heat radiating off his body.

“It’s our catch up isn’t it. Sorry, I didn’t prepare anything. Uh, did you send- no you must have, I know you would, sorry I didn’t read it, I just…”

Piers nodded and shrugged. Yes, he’d written a short one-page update just in case and emailed through but yet again Chris hasn’t read it, but that’s OK because he’d practiced the verbal brief anyway and knew he preferred that.

“Did you want the two-minute version?”

“Yep, go on- uh wait, oh, that’s right, I was looking at this when you came in. Can I get your thoughts on this first?”

Chris pulled up the email. As he did Piers glanced at the (8709) unread tag and flinched, but told himself to focus.

It was one of those reports, cc’ed for comment by all the team leaders. There must be thousands of those going around.

“Hmm. May I skim the report?” Piers asked.

Chris alt-tabbed and Piers glanced at the page count. Less than fifty. He let out the breath he held in. Trying not to lean in too close to Chris, he scrolled through with the keyboard, looked at the summary and the body, and then the conclusion.

“I think it’s bad, but not quite sure how bad.” Chris said, scratching his head.

“This got drafted by some ivory tower academic who never had a semblance of normal life.”

“How did it get that far then, command can’t actually be that serious about this shit?”

“Well you see when you brand yourself a ‘consultant’, whatever BS they sprout will suddenly became great gems of transformative wisdom that’s it a crime against the state to realise such theoretical gains and crafted rhetoric into action. The good thing is, however, at least it doesn’t read like there’s someone’s self interests in the way…”

“You got a plan of attack?”

“Whatever you do don’t let it be a recommendation. I’m sure every commander out there is fuming about this stuff. I’ll work up some comments on the template in uh, your style and let you review them, but you should go chew the fat with others and draw out their views, and put in a coordinate effort.”

“Mmmh, I like that approach. I can chat to Crosby and K-face. It’s the same crap that keeps going round.”

“So, that brief of yours. Anything important? Do you need me to get money again?”

“No. Nothing of the sort. We could use all kinds of upgrades, but we can’t ask for them willy-nilly, it must be thought out, strategic, have the whole cost, risk benefit balance neatly summed up—”

Chris threw his hands up in defence. “OK, OK, I’m just asking. You work out the details and brief me on what to tell our accounts man. How’s the team?”

“Overall we’re going to be fine. Our teams are much smaller than we used to manage, I’m still getting to know them of course, but they’re willing, have a good attitude and there’s a lot we can cover.”

“I mean, they’re no special forces but miles above army grunts fresh from boot. They’re here because they want to be, and that counts more than anyone realises.”

“Just what I wanted to hear. And how are you?”

“Me? Oh, uh. I’m doing alright. I guess.”

Piers was caught off guard. He’d prepared the brief about everything Chris could ask him about and left out himself. He never thought about himself. As in what Chris would want him to say about himself. Is it like a job interview? Does he stay professional or let out snippets of truth and emotion? No. He never thought about the fact that Chris would ask him about himself. This is the military. No one is your care bear. They want you to get the job done and not cause any problems. Don’t be smart and don’t be stupid. Conform.

“Well you’re doing a damn fine job.” Chris said, clapping a big hand to Piers’ shoulder. “Knew I’d pick the right man.” He grinned a somewhat boyish grin and gave the shoulder a squeeze.

Pier grinned to himself. Chris was a touchy man and he’d be damned if he ever forgot a moment where they connected physically.

“Oh. Another thing.” The squeeze turned to a slap on his shoulder. “What is this writing comments in ‘my style’ that you spoke of?”

Piers blinked. Oops.

“Uh, have you ever hear of ghost writers, Captain?”

“Uh, like the movie with the team with gear battling paranormal lifeforms?” Chris said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Sounds a bit like us, really.”

“Almost, except they fight with words. A ghost writer is like someone who writes for someone else. Like a speech writer, official emails and all.”

Piers feels nervous as Chris stroked his 5’o clock shadow and appraised him intently with his warm brown eyes. He thought about the 8000 unread emails and swallowed.

“Uh, I’m kinda terrible at it, but given the timeframes of the response I might just jot some notes and you can review them so it sounds like it comes from a seasoned… captain and not some fresh-faced rookie from West Point?”

“Seasoned huh?” Chris chuckled. “Medium with a hint of garlic, salt and pepper.”

Piers licked his lips.

“Well, I’ll leave it to you. Forget the style. The key thing is to shoot this thing down before it ever gets off the ground.”

“Yes Sir!” Piers was already plotting in his head. He still needs to write like Chris would, but not as Chris would, but how command would want Chris to, striking that fine balance between authority, reason and a hint of the non-conformant leanings the Captain is known for.

“I know who I picked. You’re not a spring chicken Nivans, even if you look like you belong on a recruitment poster. I see a bright future in you, ghostbusting or zombie busting or writing or whatever else. You’ve got a good package. Of skills and, uh that word…. Aptitude, attitude? Those things. Keep it up.”

“I will, Captain. Thank you, Captain.”

“I’ll send you the docs, no hurry, but if you get it in before 1700 I know there’s a steakhouse you might like.”

Piers raised his eyebrows. Chris is more than his match.

“Right away sir.”

Chris’s eyes followed Piers out of his office, with the golden rays of the sun on his back. He sighed in relief, pressing send on the email. He looked at the other 8000 unread emails, and the pile of reports awaiting read through, and he grinned like a cat who ate the canary.

#Piers Nivans #Chris Redfield #Nivanfield #early days #office work and banter #poor Piers #fanfiction #RE6

[gwentoryfics]

Hot for Teacher, Part 6.

Genre | College Student x College Professor Smut AU

Pairing | Reader x Hongseok x Hyunggu (Kino) x Wooseok

Words | 14k

Summary | You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.

Warnings | Mentions of abusive familial relationships. Explicit sexual content. Grinding. Penetrative sex. Swearing. And, as always, poor choices.

Parts | 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 5.5 • 6 • More Coming Soon

Note | Added Wooseok to the official Pairing list because, let’s be real. He’s earned it. Thank you all for your never-ending patience! I love each and every one of you, and I’ll never get over how much love and support you all give me.

The morning brings with it a throbbing headache and a brief moment of surprise when you realize you’ve woken up in an apartment that is not your own. You remember quickly, however, that you ran into Kino last night and ended up crashing at his place, so you’re not alarmed.

You’re sweaty under the blanket that’s draped over you, and your shirt- er, the one you borrowed from Kino- sticks to your back. Vague bits of a dream mix with faded memories of last night, and you have to take a moment to sort everything out.

You went to the club with the seniors from jazz band. The boys were so supportive, and their performance was stellar, and… and they fucking signed you up to play. Right.

And then you ran into Professor Yang, who sent you home. Your whole body had throbbed with want for him, as per usual. But instead…

Wooseok.

You went to Wooseok’s place, and he fingered you on the kitchen counter.

What was that all about? How did you end up making out with him of all people? Not that he was a bad choice or anything, maybe just an unexpected one.

Desperately, you try to piece together what you feel about the whole situation. So you start with the things you know to be true about him:

Wooseok is tall and attractive, especially in a jean jacket.

Wooseok is an incredible kisser.

Wooseok knows how to use his fingers.

And then you think of things that you know to be true about you:

You’re feeling turned on again just by thinking about Wooseok.

You’re blessedly distracted by something that isn’t Professor Yang for once.

You don’t know what you feel towards Wooseok emotionally, but you maybe wouldn’t mind if something like last night happened again. Maybe.

You puff out your cheeks and let the air rush out in a deep sigh. Somehow, you had managed to make a messy semester even messier. Literally all you had to do was just get your shit together. Is that really such a difficult thing for you to accomplish?

Thoughts of Wooseok’s lips, tongue, and fingers swirl in your brain, and it’s weirdly relieving. It feels like there may be hope for you after all - your world doesn’t have to revolve around Professor Yang. You can move on. You can see other people and stop feeling so hung up on him. 

Maybe the rest of this semester won’t be so bad.

Grabbing your phone off of the coffee table, you check your notifications. Just a message from Nailah - oops, you forgot to let her know you weren’t coming home last night - and an email in your school account. You send off a quick reply to Nailah letting her know that you’re alive and that you’ll make it up to her, and then you check the email.

“_____,

Because you missed our meeting last week, I would like to reschedule. I have set aside time this Thursday afternoon to meet with you. Please let me know if this time does not work for you.

Thank you,

Professor Hongseok Yang”

The email is so formal, it makes you roll your eyes. You get it - your school email is probably monitored and he doesn’t want to at all hint at any kind of comfortability between the two of you, but it doesn’t have to sound like a fucking dissertation. 

You know what? Whatever. You’ll meet with him. It’s not a big deal, anyway, because you’re getting over him. 

Without the slightest hint of sass or sarcasm or whatever else, you genuinely write back: 

“Professor Yang,

Thursday afternoon works great for me. I’ll see you then.

Thank you!

_____”

Sending the message, you feel relieved. You’re turning over a new leaf. All that’s left for you to do is send a quick text to Wooseok letting him know that you won’t be able to tutor him this week, and once that is on its way to him you feel like you’re ready to start the day.

As you sit up on the couch, about to get up and go to the bathroom, you notice a Kino-sized lump on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Had he slept there all night?

You reach down, lifting the end of the blanket that covers his head. “Psst.”

He inhales deeply and shifts, eyes opening and squinting at the sunlight pouring in from the windows. Passively, you note that he’s actually really cute when he’s so sleepy.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you coo. You ruffle his hair, and he swats your hand away, emitting a noise that sounds like a cross between a chuckle and a groan. 

“Five more minutes.”

“No. I’m up so you should be up, too.” 

“Oh, is that how this works?” He peeks up at you, one eye still squinted shut. 

“Think so. I am the guest of honor here, so you should probably do what I say.”

“Guest of honor, my ass.”

“I’m not the one sleeping on the floor, so I think that puts me a step above you.”

“Please. I’m only down here because of you.”

You laugh. “Why? Were you worried I might have nightmares out here by myself?”

“No, I thought you’d be fine.” He sits up, stretching his arms and back, which are surely stiff from sleeping on the carpet all night. “You’re the one that asked me to stay with you.”

Your cheeks suddenly warm and your eyes widen. “...I did?”

He nods. “Yeah, I was going to head in because I thought you were asleep, but the second I stood up you asked me to stay. So I stayed.”

“Shit, Kino, I was drunk. You didn’t have to do that for me.” You frown. “You’re probably stiff as hell because of it.”

Kino just shrugs. “Well, now you know what I’m willing to do for you.”

“Would you be willing to make me some eggs?”

With a broad smile, Kino stands. “Anything for you, dear.” And then he pushes you back onto the couch, giggling like a maniac as he runs for the kitchen.

“Shithead!”

***

You’re grateful to find Changgu at the reception desk on Monday. You never actually sent the apology text that you drafted, and at this point it’s probably better to just do it in person - no matter how embarrassing it might be.

“Hey, Changgu.” You approach the desk, greeting him quietly. Shyly.

He looks up from the computer, eyebrows lifting in surprise before a smile settles on his lips. “Quite the weekend, huh?”

Oh, he has no idea. “You’re telling me.”

“How can I help you?”

“I wanted to apologize for everything. You guys could have all had a perfectly good time without me. I shouldn’t have lied to you about my age.”

“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t do that too often. But I’m not going to lecture you.”

“Thanks.” You shift your weight awkwardly, not really sure what else to say. “Anyway, I really appreciate you inviting me to the jazz club, and getting me into the jazz band practice. I really enjoyed it. Both of those things.”

“It’s not a problem.” Changgu smiles warmly. What a gentle ray of sunshine he is. Then he grabs a stack of post-it notes and scribbles something down before handing it over. “I’m supposed to give you this.”

“Oh?” You look at the square of paper to find what looks to be a phone number.

“From Yanan. You don’t have to text him if you don’t want to. He can be a little forward sometimes, but he won’t be weird about it if he doesn’t hear from you. He just always has to try, you know?”

“Oh. Okay.” You slip it into your pocket, not exactly sure what you want to do with it. “Um, I should probably get going. Class and all. You know.”

As you turn to head out, he calls your name. “_____?”

“Yeah?” You look back at him.

If you’re not mistaken, Changgu’s cheeks are the most delicate rose color. “Don’t forget that you have my number, too.”

Is he flirting?

You smile reassuringly. If Bad Choices is becoming your middle name, you may as well embrace it. “I won’t forget.”

***

Thursday afternoon, you find yourself in Professor Yang's office, as he requested. You feel surprisingly level-headed, but you do notice just a hint of nervousness in the back of your mind. After all, you’re getting over him - so you’re not quite over him yet. He’s still beautiful and tempting and damn him for wearing such a delicious cologne all the time.  

Professor Yang sits across from you, behind his desk, as always. He’s looking through the two incorrectly-graded assignments you brought in, and he takes the time to correct them.

"I apologize. You were right about my miscalculations." He plugs the updated grades into his computer, and they hardly even affect your total grade. "I assure you that I'll take my time with your midterm and all other assignments from here on out."

"Thank you." You take back your labs and stuff them into your backpack. The midterm you took on Tuesday hadn't been terribly difficult and you're anticipating that you'll get a good grade anyway. But at least you know that he's aware of his mistakes so you won't have to confront him about it again (hopefully). 

You stand, ready to leave now that your meeting’s purpose is complete, but he beckons you. "I need to speak with you about something else."

You meet his caramel eyes, and he's just as impossible to read as always. Begrudgingly, you fall back into your chair. "What is it?"

Professor Yang's tongue swipes over his lower lip, but in such a way to indicate that he's thinking, considering where to start. Still, it catches your attention, and you probably look at his lips a hair longer than you should. Damn him.

"About what you said this weekend..." He searches your face. "I don't have a girlfriend."

Why the fuck did he have to say that, of all things?!

"Okay," you spit out, trying to act aloof even though you're fucking mortified that he would even bring that up. You're sure that your furiously warming cheeks give you away. "Good for you."

Professor Yang looks dissatisfied. "Can we perhaps have an adult conversation about this?"

"I don't have to have anything with you." You cross your arms over your chest, defaulting to your usual sass mode that always seems to emerge around him.

His eyes narrow and he scoffs. "See, this is exactly why I said you needed to leave Saturday night. Do you at all notice the childish fit that you're throwing right now?"

With a roll of your eyes (yes, you realize that's still childish), you uncross your arms and take a deep breath. "Fine. Let's talk. What do you want?"

"I want to know what's going on with you. Why did you tell me to say hi to my girlfriend?"

The thing is, you know that he knows exactly why you said it. He just wants you to admit it out loud. "I was heated." That's as much as you'll give him.

"Is that why you left our last appointment? Because you were heated?" Professor Yang recalls the way you stormed off after seeing that woman in his office last week.

"You seemed busy."

"I wasn't. She was leaving."

"Whatever. I didn't feel like talking."

"Did you think she was my girlfriend?"

"I don't care who she is."

"She's my sister."

Somehow, that genuinely catches you off guard. You shift in your seat, curious. "You have a sister?"

Professor Yang nods calmly. "Two. Both younger than me. The sister that you saw was in town for a conference, and she just stopped in to visit. I don't get to see her very often."

Shit. Well that certainly explains why she was so gorgeous, since they share the same gene pool. You try to remain neutral about it all. "I'm glad you got to see her, then."

"The way you've reacted to her is very concerning." His brow furrows. "I knew this would be an issue if we tried to do a class together."

"This has nothing to do with you and me, okay? This..." you gesture between him and yourself, "...is nothing. You can date whoever you want. I literally don't care."

"You want me to believe that after the way you acted?"

"You think I'm jealous or something?" You scoff, laughing, but it's awkward and forced. He notices, and gives you the look of oh-please. Defensively you say, "I'm not jealous!"

Pause. A lull in conversation. You’re both aware that you’re lying, and it’s obvious that you will never admit to it, no matter what he says. You hold each others' gaze, and you wonder which of you will be the first to look away. And then he speaks.

"I wanted to tell you something else. Something honest. But I need you to not read into it, okay? Just take it at face value. Promise me you can do that."

Faintly, you notice the way your heart skips. "Okay. I promise."

"You obviously shouldn't have been at the club over the weekend, but I just thought you should know that you're a really talented pianist. I was very impressed to hear you play like that."

It hadn't even occurred to you that he was in the audience while you were playing. But now that he's acknowledging it, you feel retroactively nervous about your performance. "Thank you... I appreciate that."

He nods once and then turns to his computer, closing out of the grading screen and generally avoiding your gaze.

"I want to say something honestly, too." You get up the nerve to speak, but you have to hold your hands together to keep them from trembling. How could he affect you so much?

His gaze is so intense, full of warning. "Please be careful with whatever it is you want to say."

He doesn't trust you. You can't blame him. You don't really trust him either. You're both tiptoeing around very dangerous territory even allowing yourselves to be in the same room. But this time you want to share with him something genuine, something that has absolutely nothing to do with whatever may have transpired between the two of you in the past.

"I'm truly enjoying your class. And it's not because you're the one teaching it, I swear. The material is really interesting to me and I'm really looking forward to building my dulcimer."

He smiles, and it's almost unguarded. Like he's relieved that you didn't say something else. "That means a lot to me. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I’m not kidding when I say I've been looking forward to this class since I heard about it last year. And I think you're a great teacher, everything else aside."

"Thank you."

"Can I actually ask you a question? About building instruments and stuff."

He sits back a little, as if he's finally able to relax around you, now that you're actually acting like a student speaking with their teacher. "Of course."

"When did you start building instruments? And did you build that guitar?" You gesture to the instrument resting in the corner of the room, with its beautifully stained wood and delicate detailing around the sound hole. 

“I did!” He lights up and stands, retrieving the guitar. “I built my first guitar when I was sixteen. Didn’t turn out that great because I was not very skilled. But after honing my craft for a few years, I saw more success in the instruments I built. This little lady came along just two years ago.”

“She’s beautiful,” you praise his handiwork. “Seriously. I’m impressed that it’s actually a handmade guitar.”

Professor Yang looks at you like you just sprouted a second head. “Of course it’s handmade. All of the best instruments are. You expect a machine to produce something that sounds like this?”

He strums the strings gently, an arpeggiated chord ringing sweetly through the room. The warm, buttery sound is enough to raise goosebumps on your arms.

“You’re right. No robot could ever make that.” 

“This guitar is my heart and soul.” He smooths his hand over its curves lovingly.

“Can you play that? ‘Heart and Soul’?”

“Why on Earth would I want to play that atrocity on my masterpiece of an instrument? Absolutely not.”

You laugh. “Fair enough. Play something else, then. I want to hear what she can do.”

With no further prompting needed, he dives into a beautiful melody, plucking the strings softly and tapping his nails against the strings to create a beat. The sound is gorgeous, and it’s incredibly special to see him get swept up in the music he’s creating. He’s entirely focused on the movement of his fingers, the swell of each phrase, the gentle groove he’s creating.

Your eyes close so you can hear the music more deeply. It seeps into you, and you can feel him in each note. He is part of the music, giving himself to the melody and turning it into something beyond notes on a page. He breathes life into it.

The song ends, and you wish it never had to. You could listen to him play forever. In the end, all you can manage is a soft wow.

“Nice, right?” Professor Yang grins widely, clearly proud of himself.

“Seriously incredible. And you’re so good at playing it, too.”

“Thank you, thank you.”

You sit up a little more, interested. “The way you were tapping the strings… it reminds me of those people who can, like, play the strings and drum on the guitar body at the same time. Can you do that?”

“I used to. Let’s see…”

He plays something a little more upbeat this time, tapping his fingers, knuckles, and the heel of his palm against the guitar’s body as he strums. It’s not perfect and eventually he stumbles, but it’s still incredibly impressive.

With a short laugh, he gives up. “Like I said, I used to. It has been a while.”

“That’s probably the coolest thing in the world,” you laugh along with him. “I don’t know how you have enough coordination to do that.”

“It’s a skill. Like anything else, you just have to take the time to practice and learn.” Professor Yang drums his fingers against the wood softly. “Clearly I’m a little out of practice.”

“I mean, if you don’t have the time to grade my labs properly, I can’t imagine you have time to sit around drumming on your guitar.”

He cocks his head and purses his lips. “You try teaching a class at a university and we’ll see how easy it is for you to keep up with everything.”

“Hey, I’m not doubting the incredible stress you must be under.” You tease. 

It hits you then how incredibly comfortable you feel with him, how easy it is to be with him unguarded. It’s really… nice.

There’s a knock at the door, then, and Professor Yang glances at the clock on his desk. “Ah. Come in!”

The door opens to reveal another student - a boy from your class. “Hi, Professor.” He notices you still sitting in the office. “Am I too early for our meeting?”

Professor Yang reassures him, “Right on time, actually.”

You nod. “I was just getting ready to leave.” Grabbing your bag, you stand and address Professor Yang. “Thank you for meeting with me today. Really.”

“Not a problem. Thank you for making the time to stop in. I’m glad we got everything sorted out.” He nods once to you. “Have a good weekend and I’ll see you in class.”

“You, too.” 

The two of you exchange a smile, and it feels delightfully innocent. It feels like it means something different, like an agreement to be okay with each other from now on. An agreement to not be at each others’ throats this semester. It gives you hope that you’ve finally broken through into a more peaceful part of your relationship as student and teacher.

This semester is going to be just fine.

***

“_____.”

Your eyes lift from the keyboard to find that the tallest human you know somehow snuck into the R&B Ensemble rehearsal without you noticing. You forgot that he was allowed to rejoin the group this week. “Oh. Hi.”

“...hi.” Wooseok tries to smile, but it’s small and awkward and he looks kind of concerned.

You haven’t spoken to him at all during the week or so that has passed since you made out with him. The only communication that happened was the text that you sent to let him know you had to cancel tutoring. He hadn’t responded, and now that you think about it, you probably should have reached out to him again at some point.

A smile pulls across your lips, although you’re sure it seems just as ingenuine as his. But if it’s ingenuine, it’s only because you’re actually wildly nervous about being in front of him again. From your seat on the piano bench, he towers over you, tall and handsome and… and he’s wearing that fucking jean jacket. It’s devastating.

The silence between the two of you stretches on for far too long, and he eventually gives up on having a conversation as he retreats to the drumset. 

Yikes. You didn’t mean for that to get so weird.

Rehearsal goes much more smoothly now that Wooseok is back, and he drums like he never missed a single practice. Every rhythm and fill is spot on. The whole ensemble falls into a groove that’s just a little bit deeper, a little bit smoother than before. And you can tell that your instructor, Typhanie, is jazzed about it.

After rehearsal, Kino darts over to the keyboard. “_____, your solo was killer tonight!”

“You know I’d say the same to you, but I compliment you every week and eventually you’re going to get a big head about it.”

He pouts. “Nonsense. Compliment me.”

You rise to your feet and pat his head twice. “Well done.”

Kino rolls his eyes, but his smile is bright. He nods his head in the direction of the door, tugging on your sleeve absentmindedly. “Come on, let’s go. I want to ask you something.”

You grab your things and follow him. “Alright. Go on.”

“So, um, two-fold question.” He pushes the door open, and ushers you out of the room. “First, are you free this weekend? Specifically Saturday night?”

“I think so. Are we gonna do something?”

“Yeah, I just wanted-”

“_____! Hold up!” Wooseok’s voice precedes him down the hall as he comes thundering after you. Both you and Kino pause as he approaches. “Sorry, can I talk to you? Please?”

You look over at Kino, who wears a slight frown. As much as you don’t want to do this to Kino, you know you really should talk with Wooseok. “Can I catch up with you later?” 

Kino cocks his head, like he’s surprised you would choose Wooseok over him. But you’re not choosing Wooseok over him, you just… you just have to do this. Kino throws on a half-hearted smile and says, “Sure. Later.”

Wooseok pulls you aside as Kino departs, heading down a different hallway to get you away from the other students leaving rehearsal. You don’t protest, but you tell yourself that you will if he tries anything funny.  

“What is it?” you ask, knowing full well what this conversation is going to be.

“I was kind of hoping you could tell me.” Wooseok expression is unsettled. “I’ve been dying to talk to you, but I thought you might need space, since you just kind of stormed off and then immediately canceled tutoring.”

Oh shit. You didn’t mean for it to come off that way. You canceled because of Professor Yang, not because things were weird between you and Wooseok. Nevertheless, you had run out of his apartment without any kind of explanation, and that is entirely your fault. “I’m sorry I left like that. And I swear, I didn’t cancel tutoring because of… everything. Something else came up. That’s all.”

The gentle giant takes a deep breath, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. We were both a little drunk and I shouldn’t have taken it so far. If you don’t ever want to be around me again, I understand. But I just wanted to talk to you about it and let you know that I’m sorry. Honestly.”

Your chest warms. It’s so sweet that he’s worried about you, but it’s also unnecessary. There’s nothing for him to be worried about. “It’s okay. Really. You have nothing to feel bad about. I… I wanted it. And I liked it.” You have to look away from him as you admit it.

It feels like a weight is lifted between you. “I did, too. You’re a good kisser.” He chuckles softly, his hands shyly slipping into his pockets.

“Not so bad yourself,” you chime, still avoiding his gaze. “Um, so even though I enjoyed it, I just felt kind of confused after? I’m…” Go on. You can say it. “I’m getting over someone. So I didn’t know what to feel about all of it. Other than fucking mortified because of your roommate.”

“Don’t worry about him. I promise he doesn’t care.”

Finally, you look up at him. He really is quite handsome, and you fully understand why your drunk self had enjoyed him so much. 

“But I totally understand. I didn’t assume that it meant anything, but thanks for letting me know. Oh, by the way…” Wooseok drops his backpack from his shoulder and unzips one of the small side pockets. “I brought something for you.”

You accept the square of tissue, confused about what he could possibly be giving you - until you unwrap it. He had nicely folded your abandoned underwear to return to you, which is simultaneously embarrassing and sweet.

“Oh my God,” you mumble as you recognize the underwear, a stupid little chuckle leaving you. “I… um, thank you.”

“I’ve gotta be honest, I thought about keeping them.”

“W-what?”

Wooseok shrugs nonchalantly, a goofy grin on his face. “I mean, it’s kind of hot to have a girl’s panties. And they’re cute.”

“You really have no filter.” You stuff the panties into your own backpack, flustered.

“Just wanted to see your reaction,” he laughs. “Worth it.” 

“Glad you thought so. Can we head out now?”

“Mm.” He nods once, and you both head for the stairs. “So, just to make sure we’re both on the same page, I still want to be your friend and I don’t expect anything else from you.”

“Agreed.” You smile, grateful that he’s so considerate about all of this. But against your better judgment, your words don’t stop there. “But if it happens again…”

Wooseok freezes a few stairs ahead of you, turning to face you exactly at eye level. He peers at you curiously. “If it happens again...?”

You shrug, trying to play it cool. You can’t turn back now, so you may as well embrace it. “Then it happens. But I’m not just a booty call, so don’t even think about treating me that way.”

“So…” He moves up a step towards you, regaining a few inches of height. His voice is low as he asks,  “...what exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying… if it feels right and we’re in the moment, then it is what it is.” You know that you’re still being incredibly vague, but you just can’t bring yourself to say I’m down to fuck if you are. “But no catching feelings because I’m still trying to sort mine out.”

“Right, with the guy you’re getting over and everything.” Wooseok leans in a little, the smallest smirk on his lips. “So I shouldn’t call you up out of the blue. But if we’re both here, and we’re both in the moment…”

He leans in further, and you realize he’s going in for a kiss the second he grabs your hand. But you’re all too aware of the fact that you’re standing on the main staircase of the music building, and anyone could walk past you at any time.

You shake off his hand and put your hand on his chest, holding him back. “Not here, idiot. Someone might see!”

He grins mischievously and shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

After that, Wooseok walks you all the way to your dorm, and he’s a total gentleman. He stands with you in front of your building for a moment, his hands buried in his pockets. 

“Just so you know, you’re welcome to come over to my place whenever,” he offers. “Even if you just want to hang out. We could play games or something. We’re friends, after all.”

“That we are. Thanks.” You hold your fist out for him to bump. “See you at tutoring on Thursday, if not before then?”

“Yeah.” He bumps your fist with his own and smiles sweetly. “Catch you later.”

As he walks off, you’re actually really pleased with the way things turned out. Although you didn’t expect to actually bring up the whole maybe-we-could-do-this-again thing, it excites you that he’s at least open to the idea. Who says you can’t have a fling?

You head upstairs and open the door to your room, and you remember that Kino was in the middle of asking you something when he left - and he didn’t seem too pleased by the interruption. So… maybe you should call him to see what’s going on. You do feel kind of bad that he had to leave on his own.

You’re not sure why your impulse is to call and not text, but he answers the phone before you can really question it too much. “Hey, _____.” 

“Hey, Kino. Did you make it home?”

“Yeah.” 

“Go to your window and look up at my building.”

“...Okay…”

You flicker your bedroom light on and off to catch his attention. “Do you see my room? With the flashing light.”

A quiet chuckle comes across the line. “Yeah, I see it.”

“Now show me where you are.”

A short moment later, you notice one of the windows on the building across the street repeatedly light up and go dark. “Found you!”

“What’s this all about?”

You watch as his silhouette reappears in the window. “You didn’t get to ask me your question. I wanted to know what it was.”

“Oh.” He drags his hand through his hair. “So, I haven’t told you yet, but a piece that I choreographed is going to be performed at the Dance Department Showcase.”

“What? Kino, that’s amazing!” It’s not easy to get work presented at a department-wide showcase, so you know that it’s a huge accomplishment for him. “I’m so proud of you. Oh my gosh, that’s so cool.”

“Thank you! Thank you.” Kino laughs, pleased at your reaction. “So… the showcase is this Saturday night and I’m freaking out. I’m not performing, but I’m still incredibly nervous because it’s like… this project, this baby of mine… it’s being put on display and it’s going to be critically watched by all of my peers and professors. It’s just such a big deal.”

“Can I come?” The question eagerly bursts out of you. You would absolutely love to see what he’s capable of choreographing. If it’s anything like his dancing and singing, you know it’ll be awesome. But then you realize that he’s already freaking out about the people in the audience… maybe you shouldn’t add to that stress. “Actually, would that make it worse? I don’t want to stress you out more by being there.”

“No, no, not at all. That’s actually why I brought it up. I want you to come with me.”

You lean against your window, playing with the hem of your shirt. “I would be honored to go with you.”

He exhales deeply. “I think I’m going to feel much better with you there. Thank you.”

“Of course! What are friends for?”

“Exactly.” Kino’s hand comes to rest on the glass, like he’s reaching out to you. “I’ll see you Saturday, then. Well, and probably before then, too.”

You touch your window, too. “Yeah. I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodnight, _____.”

“Night, Kino.”

***

Your class with Professor Yang has officially moved over to the woodshop, now that your midterms are done. He had gone over standard dress code the week before (no loose, drapey clothing or open-toed shoes), but you hadn’t realized that he would be dressed differently as well.

Up until this point, you’ve only seen him in dress slacks and button-downs. But now that he’s teaching a woodworking class, he’s dressed way more casually than you expected. It makes sense that he would dress down, but it still surprises you to see him in jeans and a fitted t-shirt. His hair is swooped up and back, exposing his forehead and keeping his hair out of his eyes. 

It would be great if you could go a day without drooling over him. Seriously.

Professor Yang goes over the basics of the woodshop with everyone, explaining some of the general tools you’ll all use regardless of instrument. You’ve never used any sort of woodworking tools before, and it makes you a little nervous to think that you’ll be responsible for keeping your fingers intact while sawing away at the body of your dulcimer, but you know he’s there to help if you’re struggling (or injured).  

If nothing else, you and Shinhye can struggle together.

Beside you, Shinhye observes the slab of wood that is to be the neck of her cigar-box banjo. Her calculations are all finished and she knows exactly how far apart to mark each fret along the neck, but she hesitates. “I don’t know man, I’m going to fuck this up for sure.”

“Look, all you have to do is mark it with pencil, and then Professor Yang will come to check your work. Just don’t make any cuts into the wood without his approval and you’ll be fine.” You start marking up the wood that you’ve been given, confident in your math.

As you measure and make your marks, your ears tune in to the music Professor Yang plays throughout the workshop. He’s playing an old rock station, to be expected, and you perk up when a certain Aerosmith song comes on.

A smile grows on your face as Steven Tyler starts singing, and you remember when you sang “Dream On” in Professor Yang’s office.

You glance up to the front of the room to find Professor Yang looking right at you with a stupid grin on his dumb little face.

Oh, he remembers, too.

You struggle to hide your laughter as he breaks into a huge smile. What a loon you are.

“What are you giggling about?” Shinhye questions, still concentrated way too hard on her little pencil marks.

You’re about to respond with a simple nothing, but then she tucks her short hair behind her ear, revealing a purplish mark just under her jaw. “Oh my God, Shinhye, is that a hickey?”

She looks up at you like a deer in headlights, quickly ruffling her hair out with her fingers. “You didn’t see that.”

“What the hell do you mean? Of course I fucking saw that.” With a shit-eating grin, you lean in close. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hooking up with someone? I need to know these things!”

“It’s not important! I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Dude. Fine. I’ll give you a pass since we’re in class right now but you need to dish later.” Shinhye looks disgruntled at your demand, and you try to make her feel better about the whole situation. “Look, I’m proud of you. I never thought this day would come and I just want to know what happened! This is kind of a big deal.”

“It’s really not.” She rolls her eyes.

A third voice joins the conversation. “How are we doing over here?” Professor Yang stands next to Shinhye, looking over her work.

“Oh, perfect timing. I think I’m just about done. Can you check my marks?” Shinhye hands over her wood, seemingly grateful for the change of topic.

He takes a moment to check her math, but not her measurements. “Your math is good, so as long as you measured according to your numbers you’ll be good to go.”

You don’t even have to ask - he immediately picks up your scrap paper to check your math, too. It astounds you that he doesn’t feel the need to pick up a calculator, as if he could do all of the calculations in his head.

“Your math looks good, too.” He sets your paper down. “Go ahead and put your frets in.”

You cock your head, still surprised that he could be so good at math. “You can do all that math without a calculator?”

“I do have a Bachelor’s and a Master’s degree in Mathematics, so believe it or not, I don’t really need a calculator.” His voice is touched with sass, as if to say I’m your teacher and I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you.

But you can’t help the question. This man has not one but two math degrees, and he still fucked up your grades? The probability of that being an accident is practically zero - as you’re sure Mr. Math Wiz would agree.

So it must have been intentional. No matter how much he denies it.

It doesn’t seem like he was doing it to punish you, though. It doesn’t seem to have any purpose besides getting your attention.

Getting you into his office.

Getting you one-on-one.

And he succeeded - you sat in his office with him for a solid half hour as he re-graded your papers and chatted. He hadn’t tried to make a move or anything, so why did he want that alone time with you?

Could it be as innocent as just wanting to spend time together?

It doesn’t matter, you remind yourself. I’m getting over him. He doesn’t want anything from me, and I don’t want anything from him. The past is the past and I’m moving on.

You avoid his gaze for the rest of class.

***

Wooseok sits next to you in the practice room, working diligently on the exercises you’ve given him regarding figured bass. Overall, not at all an important concept for him as a drummer, but it’s definitely going to be on his final and he needs to know it for the sake of his grade.

You don’t know if it’s just because the nature of your relationship has changed, but you’ve felt so distracted through the whole session by how cute he looks. His hair is ruffled and he’s not wearing anything different than what he usually wears, but he just looks so damn attractive.

You know you shouldn’t say anything. You should let him work like the good little tutee he is. But since when do you pay attention to what you should and should not do?

“I think tutoring you is going to become increasingly more difficult.”

He pauses, his pencil still in his hand as he meets your gaze. “Why’s that? Because of the material? I feel like I’m actually doing pretty well.”

“No, idiot. Because, well…” Jesus, you never really know what to say in these situations. “Things are different between us now, you know?”

“It’s not that different.”

You can tell by the face he’s making that he’s teasing you. “It is! Don’t make me feel stupid.”

“You’re the one calling me an idiot!”

“It’s a term of endearment.”

“How sweet.” Wooseok shifts in his seat, turning towards you and placing his arm across the back of your chair. “So you’re flirting with me?”

“That may or may not be true.”

His fingers brush gently over your shoulder as he silently watches you, letting the air between you thicken with the thought that it would be so easy to close the gap.

Really, there’s nothing stopping you anyway.

“Wooseok… Have you done something like this before?” You ask before you convince yourself to cross the threshold. “Being friends with benefits and all of that?”

“No, actually.” Wooseok’s fingers reach your collar bone, delicately tracing the peaks and valleys. “I don’t have much experience with girls. I had a girlfriend in high school, but that’s it.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Dating’s not my priority.”

“Is this something you want, though?”

“Well yeah. I probably said it when I was drunk, but you’re really cool and you’re hot, so of course I’m down. This is totally different from dating.” He tilts his head minutely. “Have you done this before?”

Almost instantly, an image of Professor Yang flashes in your mind. “Not technically a friends with benefits situation, but I have hooked up before.”

“How’d it go? Were you okay with keeping it casual?”

Big fat fucking no, you were not okay with keeping it casual. Well, maybe you would have been if he hadn’t turned out to be your teacher. Things might have been so different. But the fact of the matter is that you’ve been an absolute wreck for the last two months because of your failure to keep it casual.

You’re fully aware of the fact that you should be honest about your hookup history. You should tell Wooseok that you most definitely caught feelings the last time you hooked up. It’s your duty to stop this trainwreck before it happens.

But… that means that you wouldn’t be able to hookup with Wooseok. And you really want to hookup with Wooseok right now.

“Yeah, it was totally fine,” you lie through your teeth. “No problems at all.”

“Cool.” He reaches out to cup your face. “Let’s stop talking about it then.”

As if they have always belonged together, your lips meet his. The kiss is sweet and gentle, and his hand is warm on your cheek. It feels so, so good to give in to your urges, to do what you want instead of overthinking. A friends-with-benefits situation is exactly what you need.

You don’t stay in your chair much longer as you continue to kiss. His lap is a much more appealing seat. Without pulling away from his lips, you get up and straddle him, your hands sliding behind his neck. 

Wooseok’s teeth bite down on your lip and his large hands are quick to venture into less innocent territory. His fingers slip down your sides and into the back pockets of your jeans, cupping your ass and giving a gentle squeeze. You roll your hips to show him that you’re pleased, and he lets out the quietest groan.

“Be careful moving your hips like that,” he warns against your lips, “or you’re signing yourself up for a whole lot of trouble.”

You smirk and roll your hips again as you say, “Maybe I want trouble.”

He responds by claiming your lips, his tongue diving deep into the cavern of your mouth as his fingers dig hard into your ass cheeks. 

You feel so alive. And so blissful - especially as you feel him start to harden through his jeans. The extra friction provided by rubbing against his thickness is absolutely delicious, and you shamelessly grind against him.

It’s clear that Wooseok is enjoying himself, too. He kisses you deeply as you grind, and his hand sneaks under your shirt, pushing your bra out of the way so that he can pinch and rub your nipple. 

You moan for him, careful to stay quiet - the sound proofing in the practice rooms isn’t perfect, after all. But you sigh and groan to let him know that you feel amazing and you love everything he’s doing to you. You would be totally content to just stay like this for the rest of your session, and it doesn’t seem like Wooseok would mind.

Unfortunately, though, you know this can’t last forever - you have to leave soon for your piano lesson. But he’s just such a good kisser…

You’re not sure what causes it, but suddenly the mood changes. His hurried kisses and touches melt into something much softer. Wooseok’s hand migrates to the small of your back, pulling you in close and embracing you as he kisses you. 

It’s mind-numbingly sweet, and you hold him tight, too.

With one last kiss, you part, but you rest your forehead on his as you catch your breath and try to process how he could be such a phenomenal kisser.

“What are you doing after this?” Wooseok asks, his voice low - and you know exactly why he’s asking.

“Piano lesson,” you huff quietly.

“Skip it.” Kiss. “Come back to my place.”

“Ugh, I wish. But I can’t. My lessons are important.” Your fingers glide through his soft hair, your gaze connecting with his sweet eyes. “What about tonight?”

Wooseok shakes his head as his fingers drum a rhythm against your spine. “Minho’s having some guys over. Tomorrow?”

“Girl’s night with my roommate.” You sigh. Who knew it would be so difficult to find time to hook up?

“I’m pretty sure Minho said he was going out of town this weekend, so we’d definitely have the place to ourselves.”

That sounds like a blessedly perfect scenario. “I have a thing with Kino on Saturday, but I could come over later that night?”

“Stellar. I’ll make sure Minho is out of the apartment.” Wooseok presses another kiss to your lips before helping you stand up. “You should probably get going though, since you have your lesson. Right?”

You glance at the clock on the wall and realize you have exactly thirty seconds to get downstairs. “Shit. Yeah, I have to run.”

Wooseok helps you gather your things. “I’ll see you Saturday night then?”

You hoist your backpack onto your shoulder and run a finger down Wooseok’s torso. “You bet.”

***

“Remind me why we’re doing this,” you grumble as you follow Nailah and Shinhye through the gym locker room on Saturday morning. Being physically active has never been your favorite thing, yet Nailah has managed to drag you along.

“Cute boy. You love cute boys, don’t you?” Nailah turns, tucking you under her arm and leading you over to the row of lockers. “This is all for you, baby.”

“But whyyyyy…”

“_____, exercising is good for you.” Shinhye tries to boost your morale as you each claim a locker, tossing your gym bags but keeping your water bottles in hand. “I promise it won’t be as bad as you think.”

“Since when have you become such a gym rat? Little Miss I-Live-On-The-Couch.” You tease her. She never seems to be interested in working out, but she looks like a total natural in her mid-calf leggings and moisture-wicking tank top.

She shrugs, touching the outer rim of her glasses to push them further up her nose. “I don’t know, I just go when Nailah invites me. And I think it’s actually pretty fun.”

“Yeah, Shinhye’s a great gym partner. She doesn’t complain.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring Nailah. “So have you seen this cute guy, then? Is it worth the effort?”

Shinhye shakes her head. “We’ve never seen him when I come along.”

“Okay, hold on.” You close your locker, realizing that this mystery cutie hasn’t been spotted in quite some time. “Are you telling me that it has probably been, like, a month and a half since you last saw him? Does he even go to this gym anymore?”

Nailah sighs exasperatedly. “I don’t know, _____. But we’re here now, so we may as well sweat a little.” She lifts her shirt up over her head, so she’s just in her spandex shorts and a sports bra. The shirt gets tossed into her locker and she holds out her hand to you. “Give me your shirt.”

“What?”

“Do it. We’re gonna go out there looking hot so you can seduce cute guy.”

“He’s probably not even out there!”

“Come on. It’s not even a big deal.” She gestures for you to hand her your shirt, and you begrudgingly do as she asks. 

“What about you, Shinhye?” You ask as your shirt disappears into Nailah’s locker.

Her face reddens. “Isn’t it weird to just wear a bra?”

“Not at all,” Nailah reassures her, closing her locker and patting Shinhye on the head as she walks away. “But don’t worry, my little Shinhye doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.”

You notice Shinhye’s eyes grow wide and her blush deepen, and look at her quizzically. What the hell is that reaction all about? She just avoids your gaze and tails after Nailah.

As you follow them into the equipment room, you try not to feel embarrassed about your lack of shirt. It’s not that unusual for a girl to work out in just her bra and shorts, but you don’t feel particularly confident since you are bound to make a fool out of yourself on the machines, anyway.

The three of you head for the stationary bikes on the opposite side of the room, scoping out all of the other gym-goers along the way. When you reach the bikes, Nailah turns on her heel and pulls you and Shinhye in close.

“Don’t make it obvious, but he’s here. He’s at the bench press.”

What are the odds that he would actually be here today? You take a swig from your water bottle before setting it next to one of the bikes and casually turning around to try to spot him.

Shinhye finds him first. “Oh my God. Him?” She bursts into laughter. “Nailah, you don’t know who that is, do you?”

“Should I?”

“He teaches at our school! _____ and I are both in his class!”

“What?!” You and Nailah respond simultaneously, both for different reasons. Is it really him?

Your eyes scan over the weight machines, and just as you spot the row of bench presses, he sits up and wipes the sweat from his brow with a hand towel.

Fucking Professor Yang is sitting halfway across the room, biceps bulging, a delicious V of sweat forming on the chest of his muscle shirt. 

God, you wish you could just melt into a puddle and disappear from this world.

“No way.” Nailah chuckles. “He’s a Professor? Oh, this is gold.”

Shinhye starts giggling, too. “Yeah, and _____ totally has a crush on him. You should have seen them in class this week.”

“Well just look at her now.”

You finally snap out of your trance. “I do not!”

“No shame, girl.” Nailah smirks as she settles onto a bike. “We’ve all had an innocent crush on a teacher before.”

Oh, if only she knew how not innocent this was.

“Yeah, no shame.” Shinhye chimes, climbing onto the bike next to Nailah.

“Whatever. Shouldn’t we stretch first?” You quickly change the subject. You’re going to spend the rest of this hour pretending like the world’s most handsome professor isn’t over there keeping up his gorgeous physique with which you are unfortunately quite familiar. 

“It’s bad to stretch cold, so we do an easy five-minute ride just to get things warmed up a bit.” Nailah states.

“Alright, then.” 

So you bike, stretch, and tackle a few machines - and you’re incredibly aware of the fact that Nailah’s routine is strategically getting you closer and closer to wherever Professor Yang is stationed. 

You trail along behind her from machine to machine, and next thing you know you’re headed straight for him.

As the three of you approach, you hope and pray that he doesn’t notice you. And when you look over, you’re blessed. He grabs the bottom of his shirt and lifts it to wipe his face, but you’re too distracted by his abs to be grateful for his blocked view of you.

Professor Yang is absolutely chiseled under his muscle shirt, and you shouldn’t even be surprised. You’ve seen him shirtless before, you’ve felt the ripples of his muscles, but you’re still taken off guard by the body that hides beneath his clothes.

The glimpse of his abs is so distracting that you actually forget how you’re supposed to act around him. He drops his shirt and looks up just as you’re passing him, and you unintentionally flash him a coy smile. When his eyes widen as he recognizes you, you realize that you do not want to try to look cute right now. 

Well, you want to, but you shouldn’t.

Somehow that doesn’t stop you.

Professor Yang’s eyes travel down your body, taking in your shirtless state. But you don’t feel shy or nervous - you feel weirdly confident, and you walk with a little extra sass in the swing of your hips. You hope with all of your might that he’s as flustered by the sight of you as you always are by him. 

If your appearance gets to him at all, he certainly doesn’t make it known. Without any hint of what he might be feeling, he gets up and moves to a different machine farther down the row, and he doesn’t look back at you again.

Thankfully, it seems that Nailah and Shinhye did not notice anything that just happened, but you feel suddenly embarrassed about strutting past him the way you did. You need to step out for a second and collect yourself.

“I’m going to grab some more water.” You hold up your mostly empty water bottle for the two girls to see and tear off before either one of them can offer to come along.

That was so dumb. Why did you react that way when he saw you? You know better. You should be avoiding him at all costs, because you’re getting over him. You’ve got Wooseok to keep you entertained now, so you can finally let go of Professor Yang.

He just looked so good… and you want the confidence boost of knowing he thinks you look good, too.

But the thing is, though, you know that he thinks you look good. He’s made it kind of obvious throughout the semester that he’s still attracted to you, so you’re positive that he must have felt something when he saw you in your tight leggings and sports bra. He’s just really good at masking it.

You fill up your bottle and take a sip from it as you turn around, and you accidentally bump into a warm, solid body that immediately fills you with dread.

“_____.”

You’re surprised by the face you see when you look up - this is not the human you were expecting. “Yuto?”

He has a black bandana rolled up and tied across his forehead, and honestly it’s a look. Yuto hardly gives you so much as a smile before his hand comes to rest on your shoulder, gently pushing you aside so he can access the water fountain.

“I didn’t know you worked out here.”

He stands upright after taking a leisurely drink, looking you up and down. “I didn’t know you worked out. Wouldn’t have guessed it.”

“Don’t be rude, asshole.” You huff, stalking off towards the weight room. You don’t need to deal with him if he’s going to be a jerk.

“Hey, wait.” Yuto catches up to you, matching your stride. “I just meant that I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Yeah. Roommate dragged me along.”

“Nailah, right?” He points off to the left, and your eyes follow to that part of the room. Nailah’s hands rest on Shinhye’s hips, guiding your friend into the correct form for squats. You frown, worried about what that could mean.

If she’s starting to crush on Shinhye, she really needs to cut it out before she gets herself hurt. Shinhye’s straight - she’s not going to reciprocate any of Nailah’s feelings. And really, Nailah needs to make sure she’s not making Shinhye uncomfortable by being too forward with her flirting.

“That’s her.” You can’t help your frown as you beeline for them. 

“Wait, wait.” Yuto grabs your arm. “I need to talk to you.”

Surprised, you pause. “What about?”

“Wooseok.”

Your frown deepens. Does he know about your agreement? “What about Wooseok?”

“Be careful with him. He’s a kid.”

“We’re the same age...? What are you getting at?”

“He’s naive, okay?” Yuto looks frustrated that you don’t understand what he’s trying to say. “Just try not to hurt him. He’s a lot more delicate than he seems. He told me about you two, and I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“It’s none of your business what we decide to do.” You scoff. “But yeah, okay, I’m the Big Bad Meanie here so I’ll be ‘gentle’ or whatever.”

Yuto’s voice noticeably softens when he realizes you’re upset. “_____…”

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you.” You brush off his hand. “Have a good workout.”

You stomp back over to your friends, and they both watch you quizzically as you approach. 

“What was that all about?” Nailah asks.

“It’s nothing.” Your first instinct is to just dismiss all of it, but these are two of your best friends. They deserve to know at least a little bit of the boy drama in your life - but you don’t want to spill the tea in the middle of the gym. “I’ll fill you in later.”

Shinhye chimes in, “Professor Yang left while you were gone. We thought you might run into him out there.”

“No, I didn’t see him. Just Yuto.”

“Who’s Yuto?” She asks. “The guy you were just talking to?”

Nailah responds for you, nodding. “He’s our neighbor, right across the hall.”

“Oh.” Shinhye chews timidly on the inside of her cheek. “He’s kind of cute, too.”

“Shinhye! I didn’t know you liked dark, brooding boys.” Nailah reaches out to smooth Shinhye’s hair, and Shinhye blushes.

“Apparently you really don’t know her type, Nailah.” There’s a slight edge to your voice as you say it. It’s just so weird to see Nailah being so forward with Shinhye, and you feel the need to stop it. Shinhye isn’t particularly vocal, so she probably won’t say anything if she’s feeling uncomfortable.

Seems like you’ll have to have a chat with Nailah later.

***

Kino meets you in your dorm’s lobby at exactly 6:15pm. Doors open for the dance department showcase in fifteen minutes, and you can sense the energy bubbling out of him when he arrives.

“Hi.” He bounces slightly, standing still for a moment before pulling you into a hug.

“Hi,” you echo, a small smile spreading across your lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous. Oh my God, I’m nervous. But let’s not talk about that because I’ll literally die before the show.”

“My CPR skills aren’t exactly stellar, so I guess we should probably do what we can to keep you alive before that becomes necessary.”

“Good call.” He places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of the building and into the brisk night air. “You look really nice, by the way.”

“Thank you!” You look down at yourself, taking a second to button up your jacket over the burgundy dress and black tights you’ve chosen for the evening. Your heels click along the sidewalk as you walk, and then you realize how Kino is dressed; his burgundy pants didn’t immediately draw your attention, but you have to laugh at the coincidence now that you’ve noticed. “Oh my God, are we actually matching?”

Kino nods, laughing. “Yeah, we are.”

So this is what it feels like to wear a couple’s outfit... Obviously you’re not a couple, but it’s still kind of cute that you’ve got similar tastes in clothes.

Kino is oddly quiet as you make your way towards the theater, and you know it’s just because of his nerves. You speak up to try to distract him. “Is your family coming tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t invite them.”

“Oh.” That surprises you. “Why not? This is a big deal. I’m sure they’d love to be here.”

“I don’t really want to talk about that right now.” Kino frowns slightly, clearly bothered by the topic.

Has something happened? He never really talks about his family, so you don’t know what his relationship with them is like. 

Wait - he has talked about them before. You remember the first night you talked to him after R&B Ensemble practice, when you both bonded over your unsupportive parents. How could you be careless enough to forget something like that? Are you really that distracted by your own life?

“I’m sorry, Kino. I shouldn’t have brought that up.” You link your arm with his. “I’m here to support you no matter what.”

“Thanks, _____.” He smiles slightly. “And no worries. It’s fine.”

To keep the mood light, you chat with him about your excursion to the gym this morning, leaving out the parts about Professor Yang, of course. Mostly, you just complain about how you have to use the baby weights because everything else is too heavy.

Thankfully you can keep him chuckling until you’re seated in the theater and the lights go down, signaling the start of the show. That’s when the terror sets in - Kino takes a deep, nervous breath, and his leg bounces wildly as the first performers step on stage. His piece isn’t until a little later on in the show, but you know he’s going to feel anxious until then.

Normally it doesn’t bother you when someone else bounces their leg, but his movement shakes your chair and you don’t want to sit through the whole show like that. Without even thinking about it, you place your hand on his thigh, squeezing gently to grab his attention. His movement stalls and he stares at you wide-eyed.

You lean in so he can hear you whisper over the music. “It’s gonna be great, okay? Everyone’s going to love your piece.”

Kino’s gaze flits between your eyes, and it occurs to you just how close your faces are. Then his hand covers yours, and he smiles. “I was right to bring you along.”

His attention returns to the stage and he seems much calmer now, but you struggle to focus on the dancers. Your whole consciousness is alert to the fact that his hand is so warm and secure around yours, and for some reason that makes your heart beat just a little bit faster.

All rational thought goes out the window. When the first performance ends, you don’t want to let his hand go. Kino notices the way you cling to his hand when he tries to let go to clap, and he gives you a funny look - not one of judgment, but one of curiosity.

You’re immediately embarrassed, so you let go and hurriedly clap before the applause ends. 

It’s fine. You’re just friends. Friends can hold hands. It’s seriously not a big deal - worst case scenario, Kino’s just going to tease you a little bit after the showcase. You do your best to shake it off.

But then the applause ends, and Kino places his hand on your lap, palm up. It’s an invitation, and his smile makes it so that you cannot refuse. You interlace your fingers with his, your heart beating happily in your chest.

You don’t know what it means, or if it even means anything. But you’ll sort it out later.

That becomes your routine, your hands letting go only to clap between pieces and then quickly returning to each other. It feels foreign yet completely comfortable, exciting yet confusing. 

And then he squeezes your hand tightly and leans over, whispering in your ear, “This one is mine.”

For just a brief second you think he’s talking about your hand, but then you realize that he means his piece is next. Your cheeks flush because of the way you misunderstood him, but you pretend that didn’t just happen and whisper back, “I can’t wait.”

A delicate piano melody guides the two male dancers on stage, but it isn’t until the lyrics kick in that you realize just how mournful the performance is going to be.

“Don’t know where I am with you Forgetting time and space with you Oh I wish we had a common view You see my red as blue I don’t belong in your universe For better or for worse…”

The dancers move fluidly across the stage, embodying the story of two people - maybe lovers, maybe friends - who want to be together despite the invisible force that’s keeping them apart.

“I’m the same but I’m bolder You get home, but I’m on my way out now Not the same destinations I will stay when you get off the train…”

No, they don’t want to be together. It’s not mutual - you see that now, how one dancer is caught in the other dancer’s world and he is trying to break free. Is this an abusive relationship?

“You’re safe as a mountain But know that I am dynamite Oh, oh, you’re safe as a mountain But know that I am dynamite…”

The pieces come together, and it suddenly makes sense. Maybe you’re making a huge assumption, but you can’t help but think that this is the story of Kino’s relationship with his family.

It moves you to tears, and you struggle to keep your composure. It feels like you’re watching a little piece of Kino’s soul through these dancers, and it’s devastating to think that someone as sweet and gentle as Kino would ever be caught in such a terrible situation. He deserves so much better than that. He deserves a family that loves him.

When the performance ends the whole audience applauds, but you can only look at Kino as he wipes away his tears, a melancholy smile on his lips. 

***

Kino walks you back to your dorm, and you stop just outside the front door. You haven’t said much since the performance because he was immediately bombarded by other students and professors coming up to congratulate him. But now, you finally have his undivided attention.

“Your piece was absolutely beautiful,” you gently praise him. “I think you’re incredibly talented to draw that much emotion out of the audience. Seriously, it was incredible.”

“Thank you.” He looks down, his soft voice accompanied by a shy smile. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you came with me tonight. Thank you so much for being there to support me.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Kino.” You pull him in for a hug, feeling proud of him and also feeling much closer to him than you were before. 

When you pull away, he asks, “Do you want to maybe come over for a little bit? Just to hang out?”

That would be nice, but you remember your plans with Wooseok. For some reason, though, it doesn’t feel right to tell Kino about that. “Ah, I can’t. I told Nailah I’d spend time with her tonight.”

You immediately feel guilty about the lie, but Kino isn’t bothered by your excuse. “Have fun with her, then.”

He reaches out, his hand gliding down your forearm until his fingers interlace with yours. You look down at your intertwined hands, your pulse quickening just as it did in the theater. You’re not sure why you react that way. And then you feel the soft press of lips on your forehead.

Did…? Did Kino just…?

You look up at him, shocked. He had just kissed you. What was that all about?

His eyes scan your face, the sweetest, gentlest smile on his lips. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

You nod, still kind of confused and surprised by what just happened. But he walks off before you can really process it, and you just stand there like an idiot for a minute or two.

Reading into it is probably the worst thing you could do. Kino is a touchy guy, so it shouldn’t seem unusual for him to kiss you on the forehead. It’s just a sweet, friendly gesture, right? He probably doesn’t mean anything by it, so you shouldn’t assume he does.

The last thing you want is to make things weird. He’s a great friend, and you don’t want to lose him. So you’re not going to make a big deal out of this.

Desperate for a distraction, you pull your phone out as you head inside. A few texts from Wooseok are waiting for you, just as you had expected.

Wooseok (8:13pm): Still want to come over?

Wooseok (8:13pm): Minho just left and won’t be back until tomorrow

You respond.

You (9:02pm): Of course. Just got back. Give me 10 to freshen up and I’ll be over.

Wooseok (9:02pm): I’ll give you 5

You (9:03pm): 7?

Wooseok (9:03pm): 6.5 starting now. 

Wooseok (9:04pm): see u soon, short stuff 😘

***

You make it to his place in exactly seven minutes because you’re a glutton for punishment, but you think you’ve devised a plan to help you earn back his favor.

“You’re late.” He greets you at the door to his apartment.

“But I brought a gift.” You try your best to look cute as you hide the small ‘present’ behind your back. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

He looks suspicious, but he smiles slightly as he does what you ask. Into his large palms, you place the panties you’ve been wearing all day. If Minseo has taught you anything, it’s that men go crazy for a girl in a dress with nothing on underneath.

“You said you wanted to keep them, so these are for you.”

Wooseok’s eyes shoot open as he realizes it’s silky, lacy fabric puddled in his hands. He looks at them with a sly smile. “Are you wearing any right now?”

You just smile coyly and shake your head. Success.

“Christ, woman, get in here.” He grabs your wrist and pulls you inside, letting the door slam shut behind you. You don’t even have time to kick off your shoes before he picks you up, your legs naturally wrapping around his hips to hold yourself up.

Wooseok’s lips crash into yours like he can’t stand the thought of waiting one more second. He’s way too eager, but you could never complain. You love feeling so wanted.

He presses you against the wall and you lace your fingers into his hair, tugging gently as you bite his lower lip. A deep growl vibrates in his throat, and it immediately shoots pleasure straight to your core.

You let yourself moan as you feverishly return every kiss he offers. You just can’t get enough of him, and it’s making you crazy. 

For just a second you pull away, but only because you need more. “Bedroom?” you pant.

Wooseok nods and carries you deeper into the apartment, throwing open the door to the bedroom and dropping you onto the bed.

“Hey! I’m not a doll!” You lecture him, but you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. “Don’t toss me around like that.”

Wooseok just ignores you. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” His long fingers immediately find the buttons of your jacket, fiddling with one after the other until he pulls it off of you.

“It’s freezing outside! What did you expect? That I’d run across the street without a jacket on just so it would be easier for you to strip me? It’s bad enough that I came over without my tights on.”

“I mean… You probably would have gotten here when I asked you to if you hadn’t stopped to put a jacket on.” Wooseok runs his fingers over your bare thighs. “But next time, keep the tights on. They’re hot.”

“You’d like that?”

“Yeah, but you’re hot like this, too.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “You’d be hotter with your shirt off, if it counts for anything.”

“Sassy,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck. Still hovering over you, he grabs the back of his collar and easily pulls the t-shirt over his head.

You’re right - you definitely like him better without the shirt. His torso and arms are nicely toned, and he just looks so good. Even his face is somehow more attractive than it’s ever been, and you know you’ve made the right choice in coming over here tonight.

You touch his cheek, and you can sense the depth behind his irises as his eyes scan your face. He’s fully present, and you just want to live in this moment with him.

“Why do you have to look at me like that?” he asks.

“Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know, you’re just fucking cute.” Wooseok dives in, laying you back onto the bed as his lips connect with yours. His hand starts at your neck and runs down over your arm before transferring to your hip, his kiss overwhelming your senses. Everything about him feels so good, so nice.

As you wrap your limbs around him, you remember what Yuto said to you at the gym this morning.

Be gentle with him.

Try not to hurt him.

Even though it’s none of Yuto’s business, you can’t help but keep his warnings in mind. The last thing you want to do is hurt Wooseok. This is all supposed to be harmless fun, after all.

You press a hand to his chest, silently asking him to stop kissing you.

“You good?” Wooseok asks, concerned.

“Yeah! I just wanted to make sure… You’re totally cool with this, right? Like, with us just being friends and doing this for fun? This isn’t going to make anything weird, right?”

Wooseok shrugs calmly. “Yeah, it’s cool with me. I don’t mind it at all and I promise I won’t get weird around you. You cool?”

You nod. “I’m cool with it. I just needed to know we were still on the same page. I, um, ran into Yuto today…”

“Shit, did he say something?”

“He told me to be careful with you. Like he thought I was going to break your heart or something.” You search his eyes. “Also, not cool that you told him about us. I thought this was going to be a private thing.”

Wooseok closes his eyes, sighing quietly. “I’m sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut. He’s my best friend and I tell him everything. I didn’t even think about it.”

“It’s okay. Just don’t go telling the rest of the school, okay?” You chuckle quietly, not quite realizing how much you sound like a certain Professor asking someone to keep things a secret.

“I won’t breathe a word of it to anybody else. I promise.” He smiles. “And don’t worry, I’m not gonna catch feelings.”

“Okay, I’m going to trust you on that. But if either one of us starts to feel something, we have to be honest and stop. Deal?”

“Deal. But, not gonna happen. You can’t lock me down, woman.”

You roll your eyes. “You can lock me down, tie me up, whatever you’re into…”

Wooseok lowers himself onto you again with a devilish grin. “You’re bad.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“Probably just get you naked and plow you into tomorrow.”

Laughter bursts from you and you can’t control yourself. “Did you really just say that?”

He laughs too, never one to take himself too seriously. “Yeah, I think I did. That was pretty awful.”

You slide your fingers into his hair and pull him down to you, crashing your lips together now that your concerns are alleviated. Your body is already aching for release and you’ve hardly even started.

Wooseok’s large hands roam your body, gliding over your curves and massaging your chest. Your fingers trail down his back and the groan he emits is absolutely precious. It feels like it has been ages since you’ve gotten laid and suddenly you’re starving for it.

Every kiss fuels the fire burning deep within you, your core throbbing with want. Your legs are wrapped around his waist and you wiggle your hips in search of some sort of friction. 

Wooseok gets the message loud and clear. His hand glides under the skirt of your dress in search of your folds, which are already delightfully wet by the time he reaches them. Even though you’re more than ready, he teases you, taking his time to caress your most sensitive spot. 

A quiet moan escapes you, and you reach down between your bodies in search of his length. You just have to know what it feels like, what kind of fun you should expect for the rest of the night.

Your fingers brush over the front of his jeans until you find an unmistakable bulge, and he sighs deeply as you pass over it. The sound is actually really hot, and you know instantly that you need to get him naked. 

“Take off your pants,” you murmur against his lips, your fingers already working to unfasten his jeans. You get the button and zipper of his pants undone, and he steps out of his pants and boxers all at once.

Seeing Wooseok naked is both weird and thrilling, and you realize how incredibly sober you are. The last time you were here in his apartment, you were both a little drunk. But this time you’re not inebriated in the least bit.

You definitely don’t need any alcohol to be convinced that you should have sex with this man right the fuck now.

“Condom?” You seriously hope that he has some, because you definitely didn’t think to bring one over.

“Yeah, hold up.” He opens the top drawer of his dresser and pulls out a rubber from his stash.

You pull him back down onto the bed as soon as he’s within reach, and he chuckles at your eagerness. You climb on top of him, kissing him passionately and wrapping your hand around his cock. 

“I don’t want to wait,” you whine as you stroke him. He’s already incredibly hard, and he’s just the perfect size for you. Usually you would insist that foreplay is a good idea, but you are way too impatient at the moment. “I want you inside of me.”

“Then stop waiting.”

Wooseok tears open the condom packet and rolls it on, and you lift yourself up, lining him up with your entrance. 

You let out a slightly strained breath as you slide down onto him, your walls stretching around his girth as you finally fill yourself with his cock. You unfortunately have to take it easy since you completely skipped the foreplay bit, but you slowly rock your hips, indulging in every bit of pleasure even the smallest movements bring you.

Eventually you’re able to increase your speed, and you lean back, helping his cock hit just the right spot inside of you, the spot that you know will leave you blinded with ecstasy. 

You don’t even realize that you’re still in your dress until Wooseok’s hand pushes your skirt back, bunching it at your hip as you ride him. “Lemme see.”

He fixates on the place where your bodies connect, his gaze full of lust. The sight of him beneath you only serves to turn you on more, and it only gets more perfect when his thumb grazes over your clit.

“Oh my God, yes,” you murmur, placing a hand behind you to hold yourself up as you lean back more. Between Wooseok’s touch and the angle of his cock, you felt yourself very quickly becoming unraveled.

Wooseok’s fingers dig into your hip, his cock sliding deliciously in and out of you. Your walls contract tightly around him as you work yourself up, entirely obsessed with the beautiful pleasure pulsing through you. 

“I’m… so close…” You moan for him. “Please, keep going. Don’t change a thing.”

He groans softly. “Already, baby?”

“It feels good,” your voice is absolutely blissful. “Count down from five. Slowly.”

It’s something you like to do when you masturbate - you’ve practiced orgasming on demand because there’s something you absolutely love about forcing yourself to hold off right when you’re ready to explode.

Wooseok doesn’t question. He just keeps rubbing circles into your clit, and he counts. “Five.”

Your chest is already growing warm, your abdomen tight. 

“Four.”

You force yourself to take deep breaths, but they’re littered with moans.

“Three.”

Your pussy swells with pleasure, hot and electric.

“Two.”

“Fuck!” You can barely keep yourself together. “Please please please…”

“One, baby-”

“Oh!” 

You don’t just explode - you burst like a fucking broken dam. Ecstasy overwhelms you as you unintentionally squirt all over Wooseok’s stomach. You’re an absolute gushing mess for him, but you’re too caught up in your pleasure to care. Your whole body feels bathed in sunshine and you’re convinced there is no better feeling than this.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

You’re brought back to reality when Wooseok finally speaks up. He looks absolutely shocked by what just happened, and you realize that you didn’t give him any sort of warning that you might soak him.

Panicked, you apologize. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut up, you’re so fucking hot.”

Wooseok sits up and pulls you to him, kissing you more roughly than ever. You eagerly return each kiss, grateful that he’s not upset like you originally thought. 

“Wooseok,” you smile against his lips at what you’re about to say. “I think now’s the time to get me naked and plow me into tomorrow.”

He laughs loudly, and his smile is adorable. “Hell yeah.”

In no time, your dress is on the floor and Wooseok has you pinned under him. Per his request you’re lying on your stomach, and he straddles your legs. He nestles his cock between your thighs, pressing into your slit with a pleased groan. 

“Shit, you feel good.” He holds himself up on his forearms, and his lips find your shoulder as he thrusts into you. He starts slow but very quickly picks up the pace until you’re both panting.

You lift your hips as much as you can to meet him, your fingers deftly working your clit. A second orgasm is definitely feasible at this rate, but you’re not going to try to force it.

Wooseok leaves a trail of bites and sucks from your shoulder up your neck until he reaches your ear. He sucks your earlobe into his mouth, biting and toying with your earring as he pounds into you. The sensation drives you wild, and very suddenly you crash into another orgasm.

A weird half-squeak, half-moan comes out of you as you dissolve beneath him, and you hear a strange series of noises come from Wooseok, too. He starts to laugh, but it’s strained and broken up by strangled, awkward moans as he finishes - then he collapses on top of you, shaking with laughter.

You know he’s definitely laughing at the sound you made, and you’re definitely laughing at the way he just laughed through his orgasm. It’s just such a drastic change of mood, and it’s absolutely endearing the way he clutches onto you as he laughs.

Wooseok is everything you thought he might be in bed, and it doesn’t even phase you that your hookup ended in a less-than-hot circumstance. How could you be bothered when you’re laughing this hard?

Something about the laughter makes his embrace feel exceptionally warm. And you kind of adore that.

You feel lighter than you have in a while, even though you’re sort of being crushed by him.

“Can’t breathe!” You squeal.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, rolling off of you and onto his back. “Hey, whatever the fuck that noise was, it was super cute.”

“I could say the same about your laughing orgasm,” you retort, scooting closer to him to indulge in his warmth.

Wooseok pushes your hair back, his dark chocolate eyes locking with yours. “It’s your fault I laughed through it. I don’t know how the hell your voice even got that high.” 

Just for fun, you try to recreate the noise, reaching as high as you can through your vocal range to pull out the most ridiculous note you’re capable of. You both laugh at your attempt, and then Wooseok gives it a try - and somehow far surpasses whatever pitch you had managed.

His eyes get so wide you think they might just fall out of his head, and you laugh more hysterically than you ever have in your life. It has to be physically impossible for him to screech as high as he just did, but he succeeded!

“Wooseok, what the fuck?” It’s impossible to catch your breath, but you manage to get some words out.

“I don’t even know.” He shakes his head and shrugs, laughing right along with you.

Eventually you’re both able to calm down. Your arm is draped across his chest, and his hand glides up and down your spine in a way that soothes you. The friends-with-benefits line is a little blurred because you’re not sure if cuddling is part of that package, but as per usual you tell yourself that you’ll figure it out later. You’d rather just enjoy yourself.

“_____?” Wooseok gently breathes your name into your hair, and you prop yourself up on your elbow so you can look at him. He’s gorgeous and you don’t know how you didn’t see it before. “I’m glad you came over.”

You don’t think - you just act on instinct. Your fingers glide up to his cheek and you lean down to kiss him. Wooseok’s lips are warm and soft, and the kiss is sensual and provocative and...

And it melts deep into your heart, lighting you up from head to toe.

It stirs up every romantic thought that you know you shouldn’t have about him.

Fuck.

Post Script | Thank you for reading! Please stay tuned for Part 7.

All Rights Reserved © gwentoryfics. No translations, reposting, and/or modifying of the material is allowed without my direct permission.

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[kaelen]

10 question tag

thanks to @soulful-studyblr for tagging me in this! (and sorry that it took me forever to do)

the rules: answer the questions the individual who tagged you asked, then make up your own and tag as many others as you please :)

questions from @soulful-studyblr:

Favorite color- that prize has got to go to green. moss, frogs, sunlight coming through trees, what’s not to love?

Why do you like language- ‘cause it’s cool. no, but seriously, there’s no way to explain it without sounding like a colossal idiot, but that’s how people communicate, and live their lives, and that’s just indescribably cool to me. it all makes sense to them, and i want to be a part of that. even with english, there’s always so much more to learn, and the more exposed to the language you are, the more you get to know about the people who speak it, and that’s just. it’s pretty awesome. makes my internal organs clench up. in a good way. 

Why are you learning your 2nd languages- my second language is spanish, and i think i’m partially learning it out of practicality, but also because i like it :) there are a lot of other languages that i like too, of course, but i started learning this one first. it’s easily accessible, and there’s a whole wealth of cultures to learn about in the meanwhile. that wasn’t a super cogent answer, i guess, but i think i sort of got my point across.

Least favorite taste- hm. i mean my own bile has got to be up there, but i bet someone else’s bile would be worse. i’ve has the merciful good luck of not having to find out though, so in terms of things i’ve actually tasted, i would cautiously say that my least favorite is (my own bile, seconded by) shirataki noodles. you can say that i’ve never had them prepared properly, and you’re probably right, but the way that i’ve had them, the smell, the texture... they don’t actually taste like much but that somehow makes it worse. i have no clue how people eat those. 

dogs or cats- well, i have a dog, and she’s quite lovely, so i’ll say dogs, but really i love them both. i used to be a diehard dog person, but my first boyfriend loved cats, so i became, if not converted, very sympathetic to the cat person cause. i think my first pet out of college will be a cat, but i love them both!

Would you rather- i think i would rather, yes.

Have you always liked learning?- 100% yes, but academia-type subjects in particular (literature, languages, anything you’d find on a medblr) have always been my favorite. i’m willing to pick up welding, but i doubt i’d like learning it as much.

2nd favorite book- what a delightfully random question! i forgot the name of it, but it’s this book i read in maybe 2017. i might give kind of a spoiler trying to describe it oops. so it’s a historical fiction set in maybe france around the 1300s (a total guess), and it starts with this traveler sitting down in a pub, and he can’t afford a beer, so the owner offers him food and drink in exchange for a story. so then he starts to tell the story that’s the main plot of the book. it’s about this magical young girl, and her dog who came back from the dead, and two boys (there are some things that make them special too but i forgot what. i think one of them is an orphan and jewish. and one is black maybe) gallivanting around the country together trying to accomplish an objective that i’ve forgotten. along the way they wreak a fair amount of havoc, and the king sets out to kill them because they caused him some trouble. and as all this is happening, the traveler is describing events getting closer and closer to the present, until, as the book ends, the kids enter the pub where the story is being told. there’s no way i’m doing it justice here, but it was just great. an amazingly well-written book, so pretty to read (had that old book aesthetic), and the story was just so well-researched and ghfshgjka. i loved it. i wish i remembered the name. something illuminating??? OKAY I GOT IT MAYBE I SHOULD HAVE JUST LOOKED UP 50 SEARCH TERMS TO START OUT WITH. IT’S THE INQUISITOR’S TALE BY ADAM GIDWITZ AND IT’S ABSOLUTELY GOBSMASHINGLY FANTASTIC. 

Favorite time period for fashion- i think that the last 50 years or so have been pretty good fashion-wise for the middle class in america, with lots of more affordable, low-maintenance clothing options, but that’s not a fun answer. now, i had to do reasearch for this. if i get to be obscenely wealthy and exist in any location i so choose, i think that Italy from 1500-1510 would be my favorite for fashion. i prefer the more open necklines, especially square ones, embroidery, dramatic sleeves, and cinched silhouettes to earlier ones, though i’m not a huge fan of the layers and boning, even that’s not as bad when you get into southern Italy. (even though i would still love to be rich in the present day and circle through 60 or so teuta matoshi dresses. and long peacoats. i love peacoats.)

One good thing that happend to you today- hm. well, i’ve been really stressed out lately trying to figure out how to get into/pay for college. (my dream school is a private liberal arts/small research university on the east coast. i won’t say exactly which because there are a few top contenders at the moment that i could never afford or get into anyways.) so, the good part is that i finally got to laying out a plan for practicing for the sat, applying for jobs, applying for scholarships, and working on my meager serving of extracurriculars, which will hopefully increase my chances of getting into/being able to afford the schools i want to go to. i guess that that’s not something that happened to me because i made it happen, but it’s similar enough.

thank you for tagging me !

i’m tagging @ninasowl-studyblr and @la-biblioteca-de-ciana. both are excellent accounts, and, as i’m fairly new, pretty much the extent of my mutuals. 

questions:

if you could travel anywhere (in or out of the world) right now, where are you traveling? (pretend c*****v**** and money aren’t issues)

why did you start your blog?

how ya doin’?

are you a chocolate or vanilla person?

what’s your motivation for learning your tl(s)?

what’s the next language you would like to learn, if any?

what’s your favorite song at the moment?

favorite food?

feelings on duolingo?

what have you done to be proud of recently?

#tag game #not language related #spanish langblr #langblr #langblog #spanish #lingblr #polyglot #bilingual #multilingual #español #spain

[watchingminecraftyansim]

Post 2 - The One Where The Intro is Mystery Science Theater 3000

In the not too distant future

Next Friday A.D.

There was a gal named Isabelle

Not too different from you or me

She moderated a discord server

Just another face in a red sweatshirt

She did a good job looking over the place

But her bosses didn’t like her so they shot her into spaaace

“We’ll send her a Minecraft Roleplay”

“One from her past” (la-la-la)

“She’ll have to sit and watch them all”

“It’ll surely be a blast” (la-la-la)

Now keep in mind Izzy can control when the episodes begin and end

Because we didn’t have the budget to make her robot friends

If you’re wondering how she eats and breaths

And other science facts (la-la-la)

Then repeat to yourself “it’s just a blog, 

I should really just relax…

For Watching Minecraft Yanderesim RP post twooooo~”

Hi, I’m Isabelle, but you knew that already, and we would do a proper Mystery Science Theater 3000 parody if I liked how my voice sounded, and I had proper recording software, but I don’t so let’s begin talking about episodes two and three of Samgladiator’s Minecraft Yandere Highschool. 

So to start off Episode 2 Sam wakes up to the Super Smash Brothers Melee theme blasting at full volume from the Gamecubecrab he and Taurtis bought last episode. Given the fact that we haven’t seen either Sam or Taurtis shower or use deodorant, they are both well on their way to becoming true Melee players. We also learn Taurtis has been up since last night trying to get the Gamecube to work, and he doesn’t even get to play it before going to school, which a true Melee player would shirk all responsibilities and drop out of school to become a professional smash bros player, so he gets docked some Epic Gamer points for that blunder. 

As Sam and Taurtis exit Sam opens their mailbox to reveal fanart they got, half of which is made by people who are actors in the series, but that’s not all too surprising as they likely used their fans as actors. This show was likely made on a budget of however much it cost to have the set built and fans will work for nothing but the opportunity to be in the same Minecraft server as the person they enjoy. I shouldn’t be talking though, I was ecstatic to get into one of RTGame’s Minecraft build days. Back on topic Taurtis and Sam head over to the convenience store and sam quickly rushes through his shopping because he doesn’t want the girls to see him and make fun of him, but he also finds cat meat, because the joke of Asian countries selling the meat of and eating domestic pets is a hilarious one, right fellas? Taurtis tries to buy the robot from the European versions of Tomodachi Life, which makes me happy, because I really enjoyed Tomodachi Life, and it’s nice to see something from it. But before we can get too far into my other trip down memory lane, this trip down memory lane interrupts it, with Sam realizing they’re going to be late if Taurtis keeps haggling with the shopkeeper for the robot he said wasn’t for sale. But despite that realization Sam and Taurtis are still late to class along with Jay, but he doesn’t get called out by teacher Gareth for being late, so… Anyways Gareth calls up Sam to tell the class about himself, and to show off the item he brought to represent himself, which is his teddy bear, Snugglemuffins, which promptly results in him being laughed at and made fun of by everyone in class, including teacher Gareth. Sam proceeds to run to another classroom crying, but is coaxed back by Gareth bribing him with 1000 Yen, or roughly 9 United States Dollars, so Sam’s bragging about getting 10 bucks wasn’t super off. Next up is Jay, who presented a katana from his katana collection, which everyone thought was cool except Yuki, who’s only comment was “Great, a weeaboo”, which you know what? Valid. Finally Taurtis presents his item, which is the Gamecube, which teacher Gareth promptly steals, robbing Taurtis of his dreams of becoming a professional Melee player, which it was never stated he had but in our hearts we all know he had. At the end teacher Gareth tells the students their assignment is to sell as many cookies as they can and to take some from the chest at the front of class “Just like my wife took everything from me”. 

The boys then head down to get lunch, and Sam, Taurtis, and Jay sit together, and Jay lets Sam play with his katana, where Sam promptly cuts someone with it. Oops. We then overhear the girls making fun of Sam, so Sam sends over Taurtis to talk him up, and on his first attempt he freaks out and runs away, and I’m not gonna criticize him, given the fact that I would have definitely done worse in that situation, being unable to think of what to say and just resorting to some stupid shit like “You got Fortnite on your phone?”. His second attempt goes better, where he then proceeds to shit talk Sam with the girls, saying he was raised by bunnies, and he gets Jay to join in on the fun. This eventually leads to Sam getting mad and wanting to impress Taurtis by saying Sookie is his Girlfriend, Taurtis proceeds to try and win Sookie over, not realizing Sam was lying and setting up a love triangle that I’m sure is going to go well for everyone involved. Shortly after this the bell rings and it is time for Gym class, where we see Rowan wearing nothing, save for a VERY small speedo, which, when we first see him, is covered by his desk. Making it look like he’s ass naked. He then has everyone stretch, and then head out to the pool, since they are going to be doing diving and laps for that day. Everyone then proceeds to get changed into their swimsuits and that is where episode 2 ends.

Episode three then starts with Sam, Taurtis and everyone else changed into their swimsuits, Sam’s is nothing special but Taurtis’ is just like Rowan’s except he has water wings on. The girl’s swimsuits are thankfully not revealing, being a one piece suit, but they aren’t as diverse as the boy’s swimsuits. Except for one student, HiddenSentinels forgot to bring his swimsuit so he is instead sent to clean Rowan’s car. Rowan starts with making them do dives, Sam jumps in and gets his teddy bear wet so he asks Rowan to hold onto it so it doesn’t get more wet, where Rowan proceeds to yeet that motherfucker over the fence. This causes some of the students to feel bad for Sam, as you probably would, at this point Sam, while he’s been a bit of an asshole, hasn’t done anything too horrible. Sookie also mentions that she doesn’t like the water, which brings me to a question, what is Sookie? Is she a human, she has hair. But humans aren’t traditionally green, as far as I know, and are usually fine with water. This comment makes me think she’s water soluble, sort of, but that’s a question for another time. Rowan then gets the students to start doing laps around the pool, and during that exercise one of the students, PowerDragon starts to drown despite having floaties on, and Sam and Taurtis save him, sort of making fun of him for managing to drown with floaties on. Sam has, what we in the business call, a VERY GOOD IDEA, if he pretends to drown, the girls will feel bad for him, save him, and he might even get mouth to mouth from a pretty girl. So he fake drowns next to SirCutieYuki, gets saved by Invader, the girl with the beard for those of you who forgot, and told by SoulOwl to “just swim you nerd”, which, that’s fair. Sam gets mouth to mouth because he is freaked out by girl beard touching him. We have truly entered the comedy area. 

Rowan then has the class move onto the high dive, and between being scared of the high dive, him being kissed by a girl with a beard, and people taking pictures of him after that, Sam runs to get his teddy bear on the other side of the fence, and it is gone, and Sam is upset for all of five seconds before moving on. Sam then returns to the pool and Rowan demonstrates the high dive while staring directly at Sam on his way down. The high drive is by my count is 26 meters high, or roughly 85 feet for us Americans (or Liberians or Myanmarese), which has to be some kind of safety violation, since the pool is only 3 meters deep. Taurtis and the rest of the class, sans Sam, start lining up to do the dive, with Sam opting to go last. Teacher Gareth tells Taurtis that he hopes he falls before he dives, but thankfully for everyone who likes Taurtis he doesn’t eat shit on the pavement after falling 85 feet from the air, and instead lands safely in the pool. Albeit with Rowan berating them for their lack of form. Sam finally does his dive off of the diving board, even though he had to be pushed off of the top of the diving board after he got to the top, and we got to see the whole city, including the unfinished flattened bit we weren’t supposed to. When he gets down we see that teacher Gareth has decided to get in on the high diving fun, fully clothed. This reminds Sam that he and Taurtis should be selling cookies, and he proceeds to try and sell them to Rowan, who shouts that they have empty carbs and yeeted that shit over the fence. While this is happening SoulOwl starts molting in the water, on account of being an owl in water. Between this, Sookie possibly being water soluble, and one student nearly drowning, I’m starting to feel that this swimming exercise might have been ill conceived. After Sookie heads off to take Soul to the nurse Invader tries to sell Rowan some cookies, claiming they have steroids in them, this causes Rowan to start punching her and throwing her cookies into the pool, teacher of the year 2015. At the same time Sam tries to sell cookies to Yuki, who will only buy them if they are from Taurtis, which Taurtis says they are, and he takes all the money, not even giving sam commission for selling the cookies, and then the bell rings, leading to everyone heading home in their swimsuits and Rowan saying that he will take care of their clothes for them.

As everyone is heading home then see that Jay has a fucking boat the size of the school’s pool, Sam and Taurtis ask about how he got so rich, with Sam commenting on the fact that Jay might be an entrepenur, and Jay saying “That’s a secret”, thus smashing my headcannon that Jay recieved all of his money from Kevin O’Leary, from the hit ABC show, Shark Tank. They then see SoulOwl and Sookie, and Sam sends Taurtis to talk to them to see how Soul is doing because he is too shy to talk to her himself. Sam also says that her molting sounds gross, but for Taurtis not to tell her that he said that, with Taurtis pointing out they weren’t super far away from him, and that Sookie and Soul could hear him too, and SoulOwl promptly getting mad at Sam, causing him and Taurtis to flee, when they go past the confiscated items box, where we see their GameCube and a copy of Super Smash Bros Melee. The boys then see Jay has a wrench and ask him to help them break into the office and help them get their GameCube back, because no series is complete without a little breaking and entering. Following their heist the gang heads to the convenience store with Jay to haggle for the robot once again, and the shop owner once again refuses, even after Jay showers him with money, stating it is a priceless family heirloom, Taurtis does however manage to successfully unload all of his cookies onto the shopkeeper, Sam is successful when he tries the same thing, instead Jay offers to buy them, and sam does, stating Jay is the best friend ever because of his money, and inviting him over to play Smash Brothers. Taurtis suggests inviting Invader over as well, because she developed a crush on Sam after giving him mouth to mouth I guess. Sam however declines because she has a beard and that’s gross, Invader however is more than pleased to come along, and does, despite Sam being a real asshole. When they get home however it is revealed that someone has there Teletubbies DVDs, and leaving off on that epic cliffhanger you’ll just have to wait until next week to find out what happens next. Or just watch the next episode before me, I’m a gal who makes terrible decisions, not a cop.

Before we end this post however, I would like to say one thing, Yuki is bi. Why do I say this you may ask, it’s simple, I have evidence, what evidence you may ask? Why, it’s simple

-I feel like it

-It’s my blog and I get to make the LGBTQ+ head cannons

-I can do what I want

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk and I’ll see you twice next week as the internet has decided on two smaller posts a week rather than one big one a week.

#samgladiator #taurtis

[veroticker]

Candy ever after - Jo Raven

You can buy the book on the author’s website.

Summary (from Jo Raven’s website)

“Candy, why is your bed so big?” “… to fit my two boyfriends when we snuggle together at night.” Only that’s my father asking, staring at the bed in question. Oops.

So yeah. Unruly Jethro and cocky Joel are now officially my boyfriends. My Candy Boys. I moved in with them, and I expected things to be tense, awkward. I was wrong. This feels so right, and well, hot. These boys are SO hot.

But with college starting, Jethro returning to work at the bookshop, and Joel planning to start his own business, everything’s shifting. Not to forget the fact that Joel still hasn’t confronted his parents about our relationship, that Jethro is still recovering from his dad’s brutal attack, and that I feel insecure, well…

Wait a sec. Insecure? Come on, Candy. That’s BS. These boys love you. Yeah, I know. The boys and me, we’re solid. However, doubt still lingers. I mean, Joel’s parents hate each other. Jethro’s dad killed his mom, for chrissakes—and my mom has acquired a sudden interest in sex toys and escort services.

So I wonder if true love really exists. Love that doesn’t fade over time. You know, the kind that withstands nightmares and bad jokes, unwashed dishes in the sink and lack of lube. Yeah, that happened.

These boys own me. They’re sweet, sexy and caring—but will they break my heart, or is this our happily ever after?

Blurb

“Candy

“Are you ready?” J-One asks.

“What for?” I glance at J-Two who’s giving me a knowing grin.

“Our Happy Ending,” they say in unison.

The door flies open, revealing a trio of Mariachis in huge sombreros, guitars at the ready, mouths open to launch into song.

(Candy’s Note: Are the Mariachis too much?)

From Candy Ever After (Unpublished epilogue to the serial Candy Boys)

“This bed’s pretty big,” my dad says, looking into our bedroom.

“Humongous,” I agree.

Notice the “our.” Our bedroom. No more separate beds. No more separate living arrangements. This is it. Me and the boys, we’re a thing. A trio. In a relationship.

Status: hot.

“Lots of space to stretch out,” my dad says, awe in his voice. He leans further in, one hand on the doorjamb. “Your mom and I should get a bed like that. Hey, I didn’t know you liked dark sheets.”

“I don’t. The boys do.”

“You let your roommates choose your sheets?”

Okay, I’m starting to think that dear old dad is out of the loop, but like, completely. Looks like my mom forgot to tell him about the changes in my life. The new relationship status.

Or anything at all. I have been keeping her updated on the major landmarks of my life—up to and including finding Joel and Jethro and the difficulties we faced until we figured out we three want each other and are serious about it—but my dad’s next comment confirms my fears.

“I bet you got the best bedroom, Candace. Let’s see…” He peeks into the next room, eager like a child. “Ah, this is a storeroom. Just how many rooms does this apartment have? Where are the other bedrooms?”

Dad is an accountant in a big law firm. He has worked there all his life—okay, that makes him sound old, when he’s in fact all of fifty years. He looks and sounds like an old man, though. Set in his ways. Doesn’t like changes and breaking his habits. I mean, he can ooh and aah over something new he sees or reads about, and it’s cute, but his fascination quickly passes.

I push my brand new pink-rimmed glasses up my nose. “Dad, Joel and Jethro are my boyfriends. We, uh, we sleep together.”

And why is that so hard to say? I’m a grown woman, and it’s not like I invited him to look into our bedroom or anything.

But he’s my dad. My palms are so sweaty I could jack Joel and Jet off without need for lube.

Aaaaaand… not the sort of thing I’m comfortable thinking in front of my time-honored progenitors.”

(review under the cut)

Review

(audiobook) There wasn’t much left to resolve at the end of the first book, except, mostly, the acceptance of Candy, Joel and Jethro’s relationship by the rest of the world. Especially their family and friends. And so that’s the main focus of this bonus epilogue.

Joel’s family, who’s the least accepting, becomes the main problem. Plus we know from the first book that Joel’s upbringing and the pressure his parents put on him was a huge obstacle to Joel accepting his special feelings. So there’s a lot of tension here--will Joel stay with his lovers despite his parents’ disapproval? To keep the reader entertain, other subplots appear--the sex life of Candy’s parents, Jethro’s cousin, and other little stories inside the big one.

There’s also one last big step left to the characters in the exploration of their sexuality, and it fills most of the sex scenes.

And the narrators are once again at the top of their talent, bringing life into those characters.

All in all, it’s a very good conclusion to the story of the first book.

Quickie

Series: Hot Candy #2 (bonus epilogue for the first book)

Hashtags: #menage romance #curvy girl #nerd #bad boy #bisexual #polyamorous relationship

Triggers: homophobia

Main couple: Candace Riley & Joel Kingsley & Jethro Connors

Hotness: 5/5

Romance: 5/5

+ a definite happily ever after

- the friends are a bit over the top

Stalker mode

You can suscribe to Jo Raven’s newsletter on her website.

You can also follow her on Facebook.

#Jo Raven #Candy ever after #contemporary romance #menage romance

[emperorxeroki]

My Princess - Ch. 20

So…yeah. It’s been…a year??? Over a year??? That I have been gone and haven’t written anything for my stories. Anyway, no promises that I will get them back on track, but hey, who knows. I hope everyone had a good time during the holidays and wish you the best for the new year. Just gonna drop this here so you all know that I’m still alive (and yes, I do read all the comments I still get about writing my other stories). Thanks for your support!

-Xero

P.S – if anyone wants to talk about random stuff, I got a Tumblr and Discord account, just shoot me a message on here or on Tumblr

DISCLAMER: I DO NOT OWN LOVE LIVE CHARACTERS

My Princess – Ch. 20

Paring: Honoka x Umi

Rating: K

Notes: Requested by Guest

xXx

“If we are born again, in our next life, will you allow me to be by your side again?”

“…mi-chan…earth to Umi-chan? UMI-CHAN!” The loud shout in her ear startled Umi from her daze. Amber eyes widen in reflex, but quickly glared at the blue-eyed ginger who was currently pouting at her. She released her puffed cheeks and frowned, unhappy that Umi was not paying attention to her. “Geez, I’ve been calling you for a while now you know.”

“I apologize for not paying attention…but was it really necessary to yell in my ear Honoka?” Umi pointed out.

“Well, how else was I supposed to get your attention? You seemed like you were lost in Lala Land.” Honoka avoided eye contact, until suddenly, a wild idea popped in her mind. “I should have just kissed you!”

The ginger nodded to herself as if that was the most natural approach to get Umi’s attention. “That’s shameless!” Umi could feel her cheeks turning red. Honoka couldn’t help but grin at the reaction. Although her life was on the line, she could never help herself from not teasing her girlfriend. After all, Umi could never really stay mad at Honoka for long.

“Sooooo, whacha doing?” Curious blue eyes looked at Umi. They wanted answers for being ignored from earlier.

“You know how I was asked to write the play for our class right?” Umi received a nod from the ginger. Honoka was the one that gave the others the idea of using Umi’s writing. She knew Umi had always had a way with words. Umi had always been praised for her poems despite the other arguing that they were shameless. “Well, I’m stuck. I don’t know if I really want to end the story like how I did.”

Now that was something you don’t get to hear everyday from Umi. Because this was THE Sonoda Umi. Honoka had always believed that Umi could do anything. Well, sort of if you don’t count the many times Umi fainted from thinking about doing things that couples do.

“Honoka, are you even listening?”

“Huh?” The ginger gave a sheepish smile and rubbed the back of her head. “Hehe, oops.” Her response earned a small sigh from Umi.

“Why don’t I help you out then?” Blue eyes sparkled with anticipation. “Maybe, if you let me read what you have, I can give you some ideas!”

“That’s…” The blue haired girl blushed and mumbled the rest of response. “embarrassing…”

“Aw come on, it can’t be that bad.” Honoka was already looking though the other’s bag to find the manuscript. Despite the many refusals Umi was giving Honoka skimmed though the papers. Umi crawled into a fetal position and hid her face behind her hands.

Silence filled the orange colored classroom. The soft echoes other students practicing outside soon began to fade as the sun continued to set. Umi peeked from between her fingers to look at the other. To her surprise, Honoka was reading her script intently, which usually never happens because it would take just a few words before she fell asleep. Was her script that good? Or was it that bad? It wasn’t long before Honoka set down the pieces of papers followed by closing her eyes and crossing her arms.

“Is it that bad?” Umi couldn’t help but ask.

“What made you think of this kind of story?” Umi was stunned at the way Honoka was looking at her. The calmness in the other’s blue eyes gave her goosebumps, but behind that calmness, there was a hint of sadness. No, more like longing.

“Umi-chan?”

“A dream. I’m not sure when it started, but I would often dream of similar events. Almost as if it was me living in that story.” Umi smiled at Honoka. “Strange isn’t it.”

“I love you.” The sudden confession caused amber eyes to widen. Umi could feel her cheeks heat up as embarrassment filled her mind. Before Umi could give a proper response, Honoka stood up and hugged the taller girl. She hid her face in the crook of Umi’s neck and took in the other’s scent.

“Should I change the story?” At first, Umi was stunned, but quickly she wrapped her arms around Honoka to comfort her.

“No, because you wrote it…but it’s sad…” Honoka pulled away but kept her arms around Umi.

“Sorry.” The tender moment was interrupted by a sudden growl from Honoka, earning giggles from both girls. “Let’s go home, it’s getting late.”

“Umi-chan, I want to spend the night at your place tonight.”

“We still have school tomorrow Honoka.”

“Pleaseeeee~” The shorter girl pursed her lips and begged like a puppy. Eventually, Umi gave in and it was decided that she would spend the night at the Sonoda household.

xXx

“You look good Umi-chan.” Both of her childhood friends smiled while the said person attempted to control her hot cheeks.

“Why exactly am I playing as the knight again?”

“Because you know the character the best.” Honoka answered.

“And you look dashing in the outfit I made.” Kotori beamed while she did some extra checks to see if all the measurements fit Umi. All the blue haired girl could do was sigh because she knew that this was their plan from the very start. There was no way out of this because everyone in the class had already agreed to it. “Don’t worry, if you get cold feet Honoka-chan will help you out.”

Umi felt all the blood drain from her face. That’s right, being one of the main characters in her play meant that she would have to be on stage more than minor characters. Suddenly, Umi felt the world was spinning too fast for her.

“Ah…did ya have to remind her about that Kotori-chan? I think she’s broken.” The two wondered when would their childhood friend ever get over her shyness. Being one of the most popular second-years at their school, one would think that the girl would be used to having all eyes on her.

“Anyway, it’s time for our main heroine to try on her dress.” Kotori quickly changed the subject. Honoka then kinda knew how Umi was starting to feel whenever the taupe haired girl gave that certain smile of not letting her prey go.

It wasn’t long before everyone was preparing for the school festival. While their class did go through the play and practiced at school, Honoka decided to stay at Umi’s to get more practice in and, of course, try to get Umi to not die out of embarrassment.

On the day of their performance, the whole audience was full. Chattering from excitement filled the auditorium. As their classmates were running around to make sure everything was ready to go, Umi sat in the corner writing the character for ‘person’ and swallowing it to relieve her of stage fright. Honoka decided to peek around the curtains and saw their friends sitting in a small group together. The amount of people there gave her a rush of excitement, but it was quickly turned down some notches when she saw some other girls holding signs with Umi’s name. It wasn’t quite the secret that Umi had a fan club, and although Umi urged Honoka to not worry too much, it still made her a bit jealous that other people were looking at her girlfriend.

“Is everyone ready?” One of their classmates wanted to doublecheck with all the actresses before letting them have the stage.

“YEAH!” Everyone shouted to get their spirits up. If you listened hard enough, you could hear Umi weakly in the background.

Honoka took Umi’s hand and smiled. “It’ll be okay, you’ll do great as my knight.”

“Yeah.” Umi could only helplessly smile back at the girl with the bright personality.

xXx

Tears were streaming down the faces of many people sitting in the audience. Even those that where there for the practice runs for the script were crying even though they knew what was going to happen. The heated duel between the princess and her knight had everyone on the edge of their seats. Little did they expect the skilled knight to purposely lost the fight just to protect the princess one last time.

Umi gently caressed Honoka’s cheek and acted out the death of her character. When exactly did she forget out being watched by others? She forgot when she was so absorbed into Honoka’s acting. It was almost as if the ginger was the princess herself. The final scene was supposed to end with Honoka holding Umi in her arms and showing sorrow for her lost, but the words that were whispered into her ear resonated inside of her.

“If we are born again, in our next life, will you allow me to be by your side again?”

The curtains came down to end the play. Umi opened her eyes and found Honoka wiping away tears streaming down her face. Before Umi could ask if she was okay, the rest of her classmates came up to them to congratulate the success of the play and the story Umi had written for them. It wasn’t long before as large smile was plastered across Honoka’s face.

Afterwards, the students at Otonokizaka were enjoying their time of the after-festival. Umi had separated from her friends to go look for Honoka. Of course, before she left, some of them commented on her to be careful of not getting caught doing ‘naughty’ things, which obviously, ended up with Umi shouting at them for being indecent.

Umi walked around the school to see where the ginger had disappeared off to. Searching every possible place Honoka would go, Umi ended up on the school rooftop. There, Honoka was staring at the sky filled with stars that were hard to see accompanied by the bright moon.

“Honoka?” Umi walked up to the other, wondering what she was doing up here alone and not with the others.

“I’m sorry…” Umi was confused at first but was surprised to see Honoka holding back her tears when she turned around.

“Why are you apologizing? The play was a success, right?”

“I hurt you so much.” Honoka grabbed Umi’s shirt, clenching tightly at her abdomen, the area where Umi was stabbed. Umi stood there silently while the other did her best to hold back her sobs.

“You…remember now…don’t you?” Umi cautiously asked the question and earned a nod from the other. It wasn’t long before Honoka’s legs gave out that made Umi even more worried. But instead of panicking, she decided it was best to hold her close. “Thank you.”

“Why? Why are you thanking me when-” Honoka’s sentence was cut short when Umi pressed her lips against Honoka’s. The ginger was too shocked to comprehend what had just happened.

Did Umi really just kiss her? Was she dreaming? Heck, Honoka was even beginning to think that she died.

“I’m thanking you because you let me be by your side again.” Umi gently wiped away Honoka’s tears and bumped their heads softly against each other. “You will always be, my one and only, Princess. Always.”

#honoumi #xero writes #it's been too long since i last posted something ll related #it was the heat of the moment late last night #hope you all enjoy :) #this chapter is also a reference to ch. 14