#I could eat a bowl full of nails it wouldn’t matter

[just-rogi]

I’ve always joked around because I’m very fair skinned and my mother is much darker than me, but I was looking at some older photos of me as a child and??? I’m significantly darker?? Almost the same skin tone as my mother with a noticeable difference between my palms and the rest of my skin, but I started looking much MUCH lighter right around the start of high school which is also when I started having blood related medical issues and was in and out of the hospital for chronic anemia and fainting, and I’m beginning to question if I’m actually light skinned at all or if I’m just pale due to a medical condition

[bakubabes-tatakae]

Request by anon: Omg you do write for him! In that case could I ask for a scenario where Yato and the reader are just cuddling and one thing leads to another and they end up having some passionate love making so then they just keep with the cuddling skin against skin? 👀🔥

It's been a really long time since I've written anything for Yato, but I'll say I forgot how much I loved to write for him. I hope you like it bby. 👏♥

Movies & Chill || {NSFW} Yato x fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, 18+ content, dirty talk, offensive language (swearing)

Word Count: 1.3k

The first thing that the two of you always did when Yukine was gone was a movie marathon. It was so rare that Yato got to pick what movie he wanted to watch when Yukine and yourself usually always sided together. As he popped the movie in the DVD player and ran back to the bed he wore a large smile, larger than you had seen in a long time.

Yato jumped onto the bed, shaking you and the bowl of popcorn that he had expressed the importance of having. He grabbed the remote and the bowl of popcorn and began to eat, watching the previews with excitement that you would have guessed had been from a child.

As the movie started you glanced over at him, wanting to settle yourself in the spot on his shoulder, but noticing that the bowl of popcorn was in your way. When he reached for the remote you took your moment, gripping the bowl of popcorn quickly and moving it to the nightstand. As he moved his hand to reach into it and felt your body glued to him instead, he was a little shocked. “I… Y/n, where’d the popcorn go?”

Your face went from a grin to narrowed eyes as you playfully whined at him. “Forget the popcorn, just let me cuddle with you, please?”

Yato softened when he saw the pleading look on your face. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in. “Yea, yea. I’ll forget it for now, but only because I want to curl up with you.”

You curled into him more, getting as close to him as you could before looking back up at him. “Yato…”

You were met with a teasing shush as the movie played, his eyes full of love as he looked down at you. “What’s the matter, angel?”

Instead of answering him, you pushed your lips out, wrapping your hand around his head. Your lips touched his and you had half expected him to push away, wanting to watch the movie and not fool around. In your shock, Yato was more intrigued by your kiss than you had expected. His lips danced with your own, his tongue pushing for entrance as he found his body moving.

You felt his hands move to your body as he slowly turned, his body hovering over your own as his hands pinned you down. ���This is why you wanted to cuddle with me, isn’t it?” He teased as he placed small kisses down your cheek to your chin. “You know that cuddling with me always ends in sex, princess.”

You felt his hands sliding between your legs as he slowly pushed his way into your shorts. It had never been a secret that Yato had been good with his hands, though they were rough and calloused from his years of fighting, they were exceptional once they made their way through your shorts. You whined as his fingers slowly rubbed against your folds, finding their way to your core with ease. He stroked your walls slowly and spoke softly. “Come on darling, was this what you were waiting for?”

You whined, not able to make sentences as he quickened his pace. Your hands moved to his body, gripping tightly as your hips began to grind against his fingers. He chuckled as he watched your needy figure. “Baby girl, did you need me this badly?” He pulled his fingers away, the sensation of pleasure leaving you as you cried out. “Let me give you something that’s going to satisfy you just a little more than those will.” He gripped the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down your legs with ease, tossing them to the side as he pulled his shirt over his head. You quickly pulled your own shirt, tossing it where he had just discarded his.

The sound of his belt coming undone filled the room as the ache in your loins grew more and more. You needed him, you had never wanted him this badly before. Maybe it was the fact that Yato had been more dominating than he ever had been before. Usually, he was a laydown and let you take over type of guy, rarely ever caring if you were in charge or not. Yato quickly kicked his pants and boxers off his legs, letting them fall off the end of the bed.

Hi took his length in his hands and pumped, watching you already squirming underneath him, anticipating his entrance. Yato lined himself up with your core and slowly pushed into you, just barely letting himself in, before pulling back out again. He was playing with you, loving the look on your face as you tried desperately to grab him and pull him further. Your voice was high-pitched and needy as he pushed into you again. “P-please, Yato.”

Yato smiled at you, pushing further into you, filling your walls with his girth. Your sounds were like music to his ears as he kept his pace slow, only speeding up the more that your nails dug into his back. “Now, now, keep yourself calm, angel. Wouldn’t want to end this too quickly, now would we?”

You pulled his body as close to you as you could, his cock hitting every wall that it possibly could. Yato’s grunts filled the room as they mixed with the blissful moans that escaped your mouth.

Yato whispered to you as his pace quickened. “I’m so close darling, not much longer now.”

You placed your hands on his face and pressed your lips to his. His hips were now moving as quickly as he could get them, chasing his high with reckless abandon.

You could feel the coil in your abdomen about to snap as his cock bottomed out inside your core, the heat in your stomach growing more and more. “F-fuck, Yato.”

His words were soft and low as he brought you to your release. “Come for me, angel. Go ahead, suffocate my cock.”

That was all it took. Your walls convulsed around him, and his face contorted at the feeling of it. Your quivering cunt clenched around his length as he rode out his high, emptying himself out inside your tight walls. Yato placed a soft kiss on your forehead and rolled back over onto his side of the bed.

You caught your breath as you looked back over at him, glancing at the tv a second later. “I think we might have missed the beginning of that?”

Yato laughed in amusement at your comment, rolling toward you as he wrapped you in his arms. The feeling of his soft skin against your own made a shiver run down your spine. You couldn’t remember the last time that the two of you had been this close. “I’d say we did.” He reached for the remote and restarted the movie, tucking you into his arms. Yato ran a hand through your hair and pressed his chin against your head. “Maybe this time we just cuddle and actually watch the movie?”

You smiled at him and nodded in agreement. “I’d love to. I just want to be with you Yato, that’s all I ever want.”

The movie began again, the first few minutes had been the only thing that you had remembered from before. Sitting in Yato’s arms had felt safe, like nothing was going to ever harm you. You wrapped an arm around the back of you, playing with the end of his hair as he cooed at your touch. His voice almost jumped you, you had thought he was too enveloped in the movie to say anything. “I love you.”

You grinned like an idiot, knowing that he would have known that you were without even being told or seeing it. He took a deep breath and leaned farther into you. “I love you, too, Y/n.”

Taglist: @monic00l @strangeinternetwasteland @rowley-with-ackerman @kyu-pine @barrysimpparker @saudade-mayari @nikiniki743 @mykuronekome @gudaworks

©2021 bakubabes-hatake, please do not repost/modify without my permission, please do not use my work as ASMR without my permission

[pillage-and-lute]

Geralt attempts to bake cookies. That’s it that’s the prompt

Hi Cabbage-with-legs!

This is a Modern AU with Tired Dad! Geralt. + bonus pining

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“Geralt? Geralt what’s all this.”

Geralt’s shoulders slumped and he scraped dejectedly at the blackened hockey pucks on the cookie pan. “Cookies.”

“I’ve seen charcoal briquets less black, dear heart. What’s this about?” Jaskier said, leaning his shoulder against his best friend.

Geralt sighed and leaned into the touch, hardly even registering Jaskier’s neon pink Hawaiian shirt. “PTA bake sale. They need me to bake something so I’m trying but, well...” Geralt shuffled a spatula under one pathetic hockey puck and flicked it into the trash.

“Lucky you,” Jaskier said. “I am a world class baker.”

“You burn water.”

“Cooking and baking are very different, my friend.”

“We aren’t friends,” Geralt huffed.

“Not if you keep up that attitude. How much food does the bake sale need?”

Geralt sat in a creaky chair and looked at the ugly yellow wallpaper of his kitchen. “They said anything helps, but the school is really underfunded, they need to make a lot of money off of this.”

Jaskier sat across from Geralt and bumped his foot against his friend’s boot. He smiled sadly. He saw Geralt almost every day, and Geralt never saw him, not really. He never looked at Jaskier and saw him.

It didn’t matter because Jaskier saw Geralt, and would continue to do so until Geralt threw him from his life.

“Alright,” Jaskier said standing up. “It’s Saturday, so Triss won’t have work, I’ll text her, she can bring by some bread.”

“Don’t bother her,” Geralt said.

“She’ll want to help. Yennefer too, she’ll bring something by the bake sale as well.”

None of them had much money, but baking, well, for Ciri they could all do something.

“You and I,” Jaskier said, “We’re going to bake up a storm.”

Geralt stood. “No, Jaskier. Go away.”

“No, you need my help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Fine,” Jaskier said, hand on one jutted hip, “Then take a bite out of one of those.” He nodded his head towards the blackened tray.

Geralt growled, but it was acquiescence. 

“Great,” Jaskier said. “Now, lets start this again.” He tidied up the kitchen, loading the dirty dishes into Geralt’s ancient dishwasher and pressing start. He knew Geralt’s kitchen as well as he knew his own. When Renfri had died and left Ciri and Geralt all by themselves he’d done all the cooking here. Geralt had just sat in the chair in the living room and wouldn’t let go of Ciri. Jaskier had practically hand fed him.

Triss had called it sitting Shiva, even though she was the only Jewish person among them. From what she’d told Jaskier, though, Geralt had been doing something similar, even if he didn’t know it.

Now, though, they both moved about the kitchen. Geralt measured flour and sugar as directed and patiently took the bowl of frosting Jaskier pressed into his hands, stirring as directed.

Jaskier moved around him, orbiting Geralt like he always did, adding almond extract and nutmeg and an extra dash of salt because Geralt used too little. At one point their little dance messed up and Jaskier placed one floury hand on Geralt’s chest to keep him from backing up against the open oven door. 

He looked at the dusty handprint on Geralt’s black hoodie, right over his heart. Geralt smiled softly.

“Thanks, I would have fallen right into the oven, there,” he said. 

Jaskier chuckled, “Yeah, Hansel, can’t eat you yet I have to fatten you up,” he poked Geralt in his rock hard abs. “You’d be awfully stringy.”

Geralt rumbled a laugh, deep in his chest. “I guess I’m not prime cannibal fodder, huh?” He crossed to the laptop, open to their recipe. “What’s next?”

“I’m sure there’s someone who’d take a bite out of you,” Jaskier said absently. “But we’re done with the cookies now that they’re in the oven, onto the cake.”

“We’re making a cake?” Geralt said. He looked in dismay at the cookies already in the oven.

“Unless you’d rather make the pies first,” Jaskier said. “And yes, we are. You and I are going to nail this PTA bake sale.” He watched the way Geralt sighed, the rise and fall of his shoulders, the little roll they did to loosen the tension. 

He patted Geralt on one such shoulder, looking into a pale hazel gaze. “Drink some coffee, we’ll be up a while.”

Geralt moved to start the coffee. “Is the--”

Jaskier handed him the little scoop that Geralt used to measure out his coffee and Geralt turned around to face Jaskier.

“You didn’t even know what I was going to say,” he said.

“I did, I know you.” Geralt stepped close and looked at Jaskier with lazer focus. 

Please, Jaskier thought. For once in your life just, see me. 

“You have flour in your hair,” Geralt said, then turned back to the coffeemaker.” 

Jaskier held in a sigh and began pulling up the recipe he liked for chocolate cake. “Do you have cocoa?” He asked. 

“Cupboard,” Geralt grunted. There where multiple cupboards in the kitchen, but Jaskier knew which one Geralt meant.

They descended again into their orbiting dance.

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

Morning dawned to find a messy kitchen and two men asleep at the kitchen table. Ciri looked around, registered the mountain of cookies and muffins, four pies and two cakes, then got herself cereal. Jaskier woke up, the seam of his sleeve had pressed into his face in his sleep.

“Have you kissed my dad yet?”

Jaskier blinked away sleep to see Ciri, still in her Wonder Woman pajamas, eating a bowl of coco puffs while standing in the middle of the kitchen. He made to stand to give her the chair, but she shook her head.

“Stay put, you must’ve worked hard. When I went to bed Dad had just burned his second batch of cookies. I repeat, have you kissed my dad yet?”

“Um, no.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t want to kiss me,” Jaskier said. “He looks right through me.”

“Hmmm,” Ciri said. It was so like her father that Jaskier had to smile.

“Hello darling,” Triss said, closing the door with her foot behind her. “Jas, you’re up, I figured you’d be asleep...oh,” she glanced at Geralt, conked out on the table, then looked at the pile of baked goods. “Nice job, I brought Challah, soda bread, and Irish brown bread.”

Jaskier stood and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, I appreciate it, Triss.”

“Aunt Triss,” Ciri said. “Do you think my dad wants to kiss Jaskier?”

“Of course, why?”

“He doesn’t even really know I exist,” Jaskier said. 

“He does too.”

“He knows I exist but he looks right through me, Triss, I’m a ghost in his life.”

The front door creaked open then slammed, startling Geralt awake. 

“Whazzit?”

“It’s probably Yennefer,” Jaskier said.

Geralt blinked his eyes hurriedly and brushed back his pale hair. 

Yennefer stomped in and set down a tray full of lemon bars. “For the bake sale.” She looked up at Geralt, who was smiling at her. “You have frosting on your face.”

Jaskier stepped into the other room and Triss followed. Ciri stepped out after them, still spooning cereal into her mouth.

“He sees her,” Jaskier whispered.

“You like Yen,” Triss said. 

“I do, she’s terrifying and fun, but I just wish he looked at me like that, like he noticed me.”

“He notices you,” Ciri said. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt called from the other room.

Ciri smirked. “See?”

Jaskier reentered the kitchen. “What’s up.” 

“I’m loading stuff into my car, help.” 

Jaskier promptly took a few trays of muffins and began to walk them out to Roach, Geralt’s ‘84 Chevy Nova. It wasn’t a beautiful car but Geralt loved her, and Jaskier had grown to love her too. The four of them, watched by Ciri, loaded up the baked goods and Jaskier went to get in the passenger seat. 

“You’re not coming,” Geralt said. 

Jaskier faltered but recovered well. “Oh, well of course. And since I’m your very best friend--”

“Not my friend.”

“I’ll stay and clean up the kitchen,” Jaskier finished.

Triss made a sympathetic face at him, kissed Ciri on the forehead, and left. Yen nudged him in a mostly friendly way and swept out after her. 

Ciri watched him clean up, sitting on the counter in the corner of the kitchen. Unusually, neither of them said a word the entire time. When the last dish was put away she said.

“You know, I’m not sure Dad sees many people, not sees them. I’m not always sure he sees me. It doesn’t mean you aren’t important to him.”

Jaskier smiled wanly. “You’re very wise for fourteen.”

“I am. Extremely.”

“He sees her.”

“That’s because he’s slightly scared of her.”

Jaskier leaned with both hands on the counter and stared between them. “Ciri, you know I love you dearly?”

“Yes.”

“And I won’t stop loving you. Not ever. But I might not come around so often. I promise it doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you.”

“Just that you think Dad doesn’t care about you.”

“I know he does,” Jaskier said, looking up and crossing to where Ciri sat. “But he can’t even call me his friend. I can’t do that anymore. I need to...I need to not do that. At least for a while.”

“I’ll miss you,” Ciri said, setting down her empty bowl and hugging Jaskier. “He’ll miss you too.”

“I’m going to miss both of you too, but I need to do this. I’ll still come to every last one of your gymnastics meets. And I’ll still be your Uncle Jas.”

Cir pulled back from her hug, jaw set but her eyes dry. “I wish you could be my papa instead.” Jaskier kissed her on the forehead. 

“Bye Ciri, I’ll see you next week when you get another medal.”

She waved at him as he left.

Jaskier didn’t look up from the bus floor the whole ride back to his shithole apartment. The ugly green carpet on the floor of his room still looked the same. He shrugged and began to work on grading papers. There was no more he could do. 

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

Jaskier was surprised to find that the day had passed easily. He’d only had to turn his thoughts away from Geralt every time he started to think of him. 

Then there was a knock on the door and Jaskier suddenly couldn’t stop thinking of Geralt. There he was, drenched, from the sudden rainstorm and dripping in his apartment’s doorway. 

Geralt shoved a fist out, holding some supermarket flowers, the daisies they dyed in obnoxious colors. Usually Jaskier found them ugly but these, battered and very, very neon, were the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.

“What?--”

“We aren’t friends I want to kiss you,” Geralt said in one breath.

“What?!”

“I don’t want to kiss friends. I want to kiss you a lot. All the time.”

“You never even look at me,” Jaskier said.

“I do, just not when you’re looking.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to catch me staring at your lips I want to kiss you, Jaskier.” He stared into Jaskier’s eyes, unwavering. “I see you.”

“Who told you?”

“Triss. I came home and the kitchen was clean and Ciri was sort of mad at me and you were gone so I called her and panicked,” Geralt paused for breath. “And she told me. I see you. I promise I do. maybe not all the time but I’m not good at noticing people all the time I’m...Renfri could do that. I can’t. You can notice people all the time but I just don’t. I’m sorry. I do notice you though, I see you, I promise.”

“You see me,” Jaskier said. He watched Geralt’s eyes as they looked downwards. At his lips.

“I don’t want to kiss friends, Jaskier,” Geralt whispered. “Please, please may I kiss you.”

Jaskier nodded.

Geralt tasted like the peppermint Chapstick that he bought around Christmas and hoarded all through the year. A kiss had never been so good. 

Geralt pulled back and handed Jaskier the flowers. “You don’t like this kind but I like them because they remind me of you.”

“They do?”

“They’re bright and if you were a flower Ciri said you’d be a daisy.”

Jaskier smiled. “You got her advice, on what flowers to get me.”

Geralt nodded. “She knows these things. There’s cookies, back home. I bought some from the bake sale. Someone made white chocolate macadamia nut and I know they’re your favorite.”

“Fine, Geralt. I’ll go back home with you.”

“You’ll stay?”

“I’m not moving all my stuff in tonight, but yes, eventually I’ll stay.”

“Good.”

“Ciri’s going to have to stop calling me uncle now. It’ll give people the wrong idea.”

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It got away from me. Whoops. Happy ending for all, though.

[comfortwriting]

When You’re Gone - F.W

Fred Weasley (and George) x fem reader, inspired by the song ‘When You’re Gone’ by Avril Lavigne.

A/N: If any of you are struggling with loss, grief or need someone to talk to, my inbox is open and I’ve re-blogged support hotline numbers.

About: The reader is mourning the death of her boyfriend, Fred Weasley. She’s struggling to move on, finding herself lost in both the past and present. Unfortunately, she loses her grips on reality and George has to put on the mask and pretend to be Fred.

Warnings: Grief, sadness, death, depression, flashbacks, some fluff here and there, deterioration of mental and physical health, mention of hospice care towards the end.

Three months ago your long term boyfriend, the man you planned to marry, was killed in an explosion during the battle of Hogwarts. His death changed your life forever.

You found it hard leaving the bed, eating and showering. At first you tried to accept that he was gone but no matter what it got harder to do so, you just wanted to hide away, fall asleep forever to wake up again one day with him next to you.

I always needed time on my own I never thought I'd Need you there when I cry And the days feel like years when I'm alone And the bed where you lie Is made up on your side

“Come on Y/N, you should write back to them, they want to know how you are.” Your mother said softly, trying to encourage you.

Ever since Fred’s death, the Weasley's wrote to you every week when they had time, you couldn’t bring yourself to reading whatever they wrote, let alone reply. You didn’t want to hear from them or see them, the guilt you felt for their sons death was eating you up inside - you didn’t want to lie to them about your state either. 

“Maybe another time mum” you replied, staring at Fred’s side of the bed. 

Your mother sat next to you and placed a hand against your tear stained cheek “He isn’t coming back, you can’t just leave everything how it is.”

You sighed and stood up walking over to the window “I’ll send them a Christmas card and apologise for not being able to protect their son.”

“It’s August, Y/N”

“Right.”

“And it wasn’t your fault!” Your mother cried.

Slowly but surely, you were losing track of time, of what was and wasn’t real, you found yourself over the next year getting more confused and plummeting even more into denial - your parents believed you didn’t want to move on - but you couldn’t to no fault of your own, you didn’t have a choice.

Your stress and grief shaped your brain and changed it, changing your reality and everything around you to create a world in which Fred would be coming home.

When you walk away I count the steps that you take Do you see how much I need you right now?

“Fred you can’t be serious” You sighed, rubbing your temple.

“Harry is like family to me, to us. He needs me there and I’m not going to allow.. WE need him gone to be able to have the life we want together, Y/N.” Fred argued back, pacing around the much brighter and cleaner bedroom.

“How am I going to protect you? I am in no state to be entering a war when I’m already so badly injured. If something goes wrong out there when I’m not with you...”

Fred walked over to you and placed a finger on your lips, shushing you. “Nothing is going to happen to me, my love.” he reassured you.

You shook your head “We don’t know that, please Fred, stay.”

Fred frowned and walked away from you “you know I can’t.”

When you're gone The pieces of my heart are missin' you When you're gone The face I came to know is missin', too When you're gone The words I need to hear To always get me through the day And make it okay I miss you

“Fred” you whispered, sitting in the shower, the water storming down upon you. “Please come back soon, I know you can and I hope you will.”

Your mother rubbed the bar of soap on your back before rinsing it with the water “I know we argued last night but I trust you, I know you’ll make it out alive.” you whispered again.

Your mother stopped washing you for a moment, taking in everything you had been saying, finally understand that something had gone wrong and your frame of mind wasn’t the same as it used to be. She knew deep in her heart you weren’t calling out for his spirit, she knew that you truly believed that he had just gone to Hogwarts - you were reliving the same period of time over and over, from the moment Fred left up until you would panic, running to the windows and asking members of the public if they had seen him.

Fifteen months on you were sitting at the table in the kitchen with your parents, you felt nervous at Fred’s silence.

“It’s a shame he can’t use a muggle phone” you muttered to your dad, taking a sip of your tea “I’d be able to hear his voice if he did.”

You started to bite at your nails whilst your legs couldn’t stop shaking “I bet his owls bloody snuffed it” you muttered again “he’s not replied to any of my letters, he must not be receiving them.”

Your parents exchanged a worried glance and sighed, your mental state crumpling even further. Recently, you were caught writing to Fred over and over again, asking how Harry was, how the war was going and if he’s okay, telling him you loved him. Your parents would tell you they would send the letters, but didn’t - Fred was dead and wouldn’t be coming back.

Even when they told you over and over again, within hours you would be back to writing those letters and talking about him in present tense.

Luckily George (and Arthur) finally learned how to use a muggle phone. Your parents decided to tell the Weasley family the truth, Molly, Arthur and George were heartbroken. George would ring up weekly to see how he could help and for updates on your condition.

“George she’s getting worse, we think she’ll stay where she is but she doesn’t she just goes further and further into madness.” Your mother said down the phone.

George sighed on the other end “I’m sorry-”

In the background George could hear you calling out in a panic “Dad! Dad! Where is Fred? he should be back by now and he isn’t here!” you began to cry.

“She’s like this as soon as the sun sets, every single day.” Your mother told George.

“I’ll be round in the morning” George replied.

I've never felt this way before Everything that I do Reminds me of you And the clothes you left, they lie on the floor And they smell just like you I love the things that you do

Rocking in your chair you looked around the room, feeling the same nausea as usual, waiting for Fred to return home. In your lap was one of his jumpers Molly made him one Christmas, you would wear it all the time, and if you got too hot you’d clutch to it like a toddler with a blanket.

Hearing the door open, which was incredibly unusual in your house you got up to your feet, your mouth dropping wide open when Fred, now with much longer hair came walking inside.

Your parents were hoping George’s visit would help break away at the cloudiness in your brain, but all they did was make it worse.

“Freddie!” You squealed out, running over and wrapping your arms around him “You’re finally home!” 

You noticed behind his hair, he was missing an ear, but your overwhelming happiness of finally being reunited with him distracted you from asking questions. 

George could feel his heart ache and his stomach drop, realising how much worse his visit would impact you. You got on your tip toes as you always did and placed a long and loving kiss onto his lips. 

You furrowed your eyebrows at who you thought was Fred, George couldn’t bring himself to kiss you back, he felt cruel for doing this, but your parents had never seen you so calm and so happy in almost two years.

George looked at your parents for a moment and decided to try, he sighed and shook his head, not wanting to lie to you.

“I’m not Fred, I’m George.”

When you walk away I count the steps that you take Do you see how much I need you right now?

You let out a laugh “You need to come back from war with more than longer hair and a missing ear to try and trick me.” 

“Fred died, Y/N. He was killed in an explosion.” George told the truth.

You shook your head in disbelief “No? You’re right in front of me.” you replied “I know you like your laughs and jokes Fred, but that’s not something to joke about, George should know better too for putting you up to this.”

You walked into the kitchen forgetting what you went in there for and walked back into the living room, taking a seat.

Your mother burst into tears and walked out of the room, your father following her to give comfort. You stared at them, not understanding why they hadn’t welcomed your boyfriend back into warm open arms.

George knew that no matter how hard he tried he wouldn’t be able to get you to see the truth - you couldn’t no matter what, they were living in your world now. George sighed, almost kicking himself for what he was about to do.

“I’m only joking, I am Fred.” 

When you're gone The pieces of my heart are missin' you When you're gone The face I came to know is missin', too When you're gone The words I need to hear To always get me through the day And make it okay I miss you 

Waking up from your nap you jolted up and noticed the darkness through the window outside, feeling the panic brew inside your tummy you started to worry.

“It’s okay I’m here.” George, playing Fred, patted your shoulders, walking around your chair.

He was carrying a bowl of soup in his hands nice and warm, just for you. 

Your parents and George were taking you care of you full time now, George had been living as your pretend boyfriend for just over seven years now and his heart broke even more as your state worsened.

You couldn’t feed yourself, wash yourself, get your self dressed or brush your hair. You couldn’t communicate through speech properly either, you would instead pull faces, point or stare into the same four walls, and every day was exactly the same; waiting for Fred to come home, being nervous, overjoyed when you’d see him, in distress when George would leave the room or when your parents would take over his shift.

You smiled at Fred, as he blew on the soup filled spoon, making you drink it. It took you ages just to finish eating and drinking, it was hard to simply exist, but staring into those beautiful eyes you never thought you’d see again calmed the storms that distressed your seas and damaged your boats.

George finished buttoning up your pyjama shirt and got you to lay down in your bed, he sat beside you and stroked your hair until your eyes fluttered shut. Once he knew you were dreaming far away from home, he stood up and met your parents downstairs.

“George, our daughter... well you know all of this is no good, not getting better.” Your father tried his best to explain, swallowing the great big lump in his throat.

Your mother took over “What we’re trying to say George, is that, we’re looking to place Y/N in a twenty four hour care facility. She cannot speak, she cannot look after herself, she’s incredible vulnerable and she’ll be getting the care she needs - you’ll be able to get your life back.”

We were made for each other Out here forever I know we were Yeah, yeah And all I ever wanted was for you to know Everything I do, I give my heart and soul I can hardly breathe; I need to feel you here with me Yeah

Today was your 40th birthday, twenty whole years since Fred died along with a part of yourself no one would ever see again. 

Now due to your bedbound state, you were laid in bed and the care assistant next to you got out your photo albums from all of your years at Hogwarts. She adjusted the height and position of the bed with her wand, making you more comfortable. 

Placing the photo albums on your lap she took you through them one by one, the memories flashing before you like a movie reel as you watched the photos move.

The twins on the train going home after their first year at Hogwarts, Fred flying on his broom during Quidditch. Fred and you on your first date in Hogsmeade, him dancing around the tent with a giant shamrock painted on his face, the two of you pulling faces and giggling in the kitchen at the burrow, Fred proudly standing in front of his shop, the two of you in your house just before he left for the war.

The care assistant pulled out the letters he had written to you over the years on your birthday, placing them in front of you to read. Despite his death - absence - from your life, you could still hear his voice as clear as day, making re-reading these letters all the more special.

When you're gone The pieces of my heart are missin' you When you're gone The face I came to know is missin', too When you're gone The words I need to hear Will always get me through the day And make it okay I miss you

Overtime, your muscles weakened and so did your organs, and unfortunately this years cold, flu, and sickness season didn’t go easy on you. The whole facility lost many residents this time of the year but none as young as you.

Your parents who would much rather be grandparents sporting perfect silver hair and wrinkles were notified of your deterioration, being told that now would be the time to come and say goodbye. Your parents notified George and he left his wife and children at home, coming to visit you.

In a deep sleep you could hear your parents talking but couldn’t quite make out what they were staying, you didn’t have the strength to open your eyes either. After struggling to leave the room, George finally switched over from them and sat in the chair next to you, taking a hold on your hand.

When going through the room he and his brother shared, he stumbled across a letter Fred had written but never sent in one of the pockets of the last coat he had ever worn. George brought it with him after reading it, knowing it would help you reach the reality with Fred you yearned for.

My Dearest Y/N,

I’m sorry that I had to go and leave you behind, but don’t be scared, don’t worry about me, my love. You are strong and you are brave, no matter what happens - I promise we’ll meet again. Just keep those beautiful eyes of yours set on the horizon, and when the time is right, we’ll know where to meet again. 

George felt your grip on his hand tighten, tears rolled down his face.

I know it’s not been easy and I know that it’s been calm, but we’ll have forever together and we’ll be away from harm. So keep on smiling and searching beautiful, the adventure is not so far away.

Love Always, Fred.

Letting go of the weight on your shoulders, you stumbled through the forest, feeling the sun beam on your skin. Following the chatty Magpie you stopped in your tracks, your whole world standing right in front of you.

“You got my letter?” Fred asked, who had aged like fine wine.

You grinned widely and nodded, tears forming in your eyes and ran into his open arms. 

“I missed you.”

[jaskiersvalley]

Shards of Ice

There was a lot of yelling in tags, reblogs and comments about Lambert needing to be loved following this post. You should have been more careful with what you wished for, because before things can get better, they need to get worse. But he gets his happy ending, don't worry.

CW: Suicidal thoughts

The room was cold and dusty but Lambert no longer had the energy to care. It was a room, his room, as barren as it was. He had survived trekking up to Kaer Morhen, at least he wouldn't be exposed to the elements so it was a bit better, even if there was no roaring fire. There wasn't even any wood in his room to start one. It would have to wait. Much like food could wait too, Lambert still had a few rations and some water in his pack, that would see him through the next couple of days while his leg finished healing. He so desperately wished he had something to take for it, even just a root to chew on for the pain but he'd run out of potions a while back and had been too caught in grief to even think about making more. At least he had a bed to lie on, that was better than the cold, hard forest floor. Lambert would take any small fortune as a blessing at that point.

Sleep claimed him and didn't release him until the sun was high the next day. Groggy, stiff from sleeping in his armour, and ravenous, Lambert pushed himself up. In the light of day his room looked no better, still just as empty and stale as when he'd walked in. If he could, he would have gone for a wash, anything to freshen up but his leg protested too much. In the end, he sat on the floor next to his bed, munching on a ration of cured meat, willing himself not to feel.

The others had to know he was back. He'd made enough noise, they probably even saw him approaching. But obviously he had no place in their lives. A dogsbody who was good for making their lives easier but didn't warrant anything in return. Not that Lambert did it to get something. But he'd always thought family looked after each other, took turns picking up the slack when one of them stumbled. As the day wore on and Lambert pulled his bedroll onto his bed for a bit of extra warmth, there was only one conclusion he could draw. While he had counted Geralt, Eskel and Vesemir as his family, they didn't think of him in a similar fashion.

On his own with his thoughts, Lambert had the chance to mull it all over. He had been a fool to think his fellow Witchers would consider him part of their family unit. Not even Lambert's own flesh and blood had done that. Just because Destiny threw them in the same cooking pot didn't mean were all part of the same cake. Though Aiden had been different. He had seen Lambert, all of him and decided that he was worth something. Desperate fury at the unfairness of it all had Lambert's lips wobbling even if tears were beyond him. He raged against his lot in life and the fact that the one possible good thing had been ripped from him. Nobody wanted Lambert and, when he found someone who did, they were violently snatched from his grasp.

With nothing do do but sleep and heal, Lambert didn't bother keeping track of the days. While his food and water lasted he would be okay. And when it ran out, he'd decide what he wanted then. Time stopped existing for Lambert, he was either asleep or wallowing in misery. It wasn't like anyone actually cared that his behaviour was very unbecoming of a Witcher, let alone a fully grown man. Lambert figured that if nobody wanted him at his best, it didn't matter what he was like at his worst.

A soft knock woke him from his slumber. It was better to sleep than get lost in his head. Why someone would try to take his only solace from him was beyond Lambert and he woke with a snarl. His leg still pulsed with pain, his room was still cold though he had managed to somewhat air it while the sun was high so it was maybe a little less chilly.

"Lambert?" Eskel's voice called as the door opened. "You missed breakfast again."

All Lambert heard was that he hadn't provided breakfast once again. He'd been back for probably a few days but soft foods and warm honey hadn't magically appeared on the breakfast table for the others. Well, it served them right.

"Go away!" He growled low in his throat.

"I just wanted-"

"Fuck off!" Lambert didn't let Eskel finish. Whatever Eskel wanted, he could get for himself. "I don't want you! I don't need you! Just leave me the fuck alone!" He threw his gloves at the door, followed by his bracers which clanked loudly against the wood, barely missing Eskel's face.

For the first time in his life, Lambert got what he asked for. The door closed again and he was alone. A strangled scream mixed with a sob in his throat and he curled up on the bed, heart and chest aching worse than his leg.

Time had no meaning, Lambert stayed curled up under his blanket, eyes open but not seeing. He'd had enough. Enough pain, enough rejection, enough loneliness. His rations were dwindling but he couldn't even find it in himself to finish them off. There was no point, it would only prolong his suffering.

Another soft knock on his door but he didn't even bother acknowledging it. He was done, the others could get on with their happy little family, they didn't need Lambert in any capacity, that had become obvious in the last few days.

The door opened and Eskel stepped in, an armful of logs and a bag of kindling in hand. He didn't say anything but got a fire going and left. The warmth of the room didn't reach Lambert's heart. He stayed where he was, even when Vesemir stepped in, a bucket of steaming water and a couple of wash cloths. Lambert didn't even have it in him to growl when hands methodically stripped him and wiped the worst of the Path's grime from his body. Fingers deftly worked the bandage on his leg open and, like when Lambert was a kid who'd scraped his knee, the injury got tutted over. Vesemir left and Lambert wondered whether he was such a disappointment that the fact he couldn't even heal from a simple bite had sent the man he'd once considered his father figure turning away in disgust.

For some reason Vesemir was back with a tray. It smelled like medical supplies but Lambert couldn't understand why. Firm hands worked over his leg, cleaning out the wounds, wrapping them. Finally, a vial was tipped against Lambert's lips and he swallowed, hoping it was poison to put him out of his misery. He fell asleep with the sweet bitterness of the potion still on his tongue and decided that maybe this wasn't such a bad way to go.

Unfortunately he woke up again. This time Geralt was in his room, a bowl of broth warming by the hearth. Lambert finally found his words.

"What the fuck do you want?"

He pretended not to see the way Geralt flinched and looked away. It filled him with a sense of perverse satisfaction, knowing that he repulsed his, well, Geralt wasn't his brother, not anymore. Not that he ever was actually.

"Eat," Geralt said, grabbing the warm bowl and holding it up. When Lambert made no move to take it, he fiddled with the spoon. "I can help feed you if you need."

Growling, Lambert snatched the bowl, ignoring the way it was so hot his fingers almost burned. The broth was good, seasoned with his favourites, not that the others would know, they never bothered to ask him. Still, it slid down his throat and warmed his belly, so close to his still stone cold heart.

Anger bubbled in Lambert's chest. The others couldn't even leave him be to make a dignified exit from this world. For some cursed reason now was the time they decided to bring Lambert back, even as he fought tooth and nail to be left. From then on, Lambert never woke alone. There was always someone in his room, never once commenting on his nightmares. Maybe they didn't notice, or thought it was just Lambert's regular dreams.

"Who is Aiden?" Eskel asked one night when Lambert woke, heart in his throat. "You call out for him a lot."

It wasn't something Lambert wanted to answer. He didn't want to trust Eskel with Aiden's memory. It wasn't something he had earned. However, each time Eskel was there and Lambert awoke from a fresh nightmare, he was asked the same question. There was only so many times that Lambert could hear those words before he snapped. At first it was just a gruff "nobody" then a "none of your business" to "a friend". It went on and on like that until Eskel had the full story, with Lambert held close to his chest and shaking like a new born foal.

When Lambert finally left his room, it was with Geralt hot on his heels. Something told Lambert that he knew about Aiden too. Those suspicions were only confirmed when, in the kitchen, Geralt casually said, "I'll come with you in the spring. We'll avenge him."

By the time spring came round, Lambert didn't feel quite so hollow. His heart had started to thaw out but the clump of ice that sat heavy in his chest could barely be called a heart anymore. Over the winter he'd been shown what it could have been like to be part of a family, to be wanted but he couldn't quite connect with the others anymore. The trust he'd offered had been twisted and warped until it was nothing more than a burnt silhouette of what it had once been.

Lambert was no fool. He knew Geralt travelled with him not just for revenge but also for Lambert's safety. It wasn't like Lambert was going to throw himself at the first chort he found. That was not how he wanted to go. But the others didn't care to listen to him in that respect. In a way, nothing had changed in that regard. Lambert's voice was still one to be ignored.

Winter came round quicker than expected. Lambert and Geralt turned north to Kaer Morhen and trekked up the mountain. There was smoke meandering through the air from the fires that had already been lit. It wasn't the Lambert had wanted to come back but he had nowhere else to go either. At least in the old keep he could actually survive winter in relative safety.

"Welcome home boys," Vesemir said as he stepped out the greet them, hugging Lambert first, then Geralt. "Eskel is already home and he's brought a guest with him."

Distantly, Lambert wondered how Geralt would react to Eskel having a guest. And maybe he was a little jealous that Eskel, despite his scars and menacing build, could find someone to winter with so easily. There was only one person Lambert had ever considered inviting home but that had only been a fleeting hope of the past, Destiny had made sure to quash it without hesitation.

"Lamb?" A familiar voice called and Lambert's whole chest hurt. His mind was cruel to play such games, taunting him with the one thing he couldn't have. "Lambert!"

A body barrelled into Lambert, arms wrapping around him tightly. Lips pressed against Lambert's and he tried to see who was stupid enough to mess around with him like that. It wasn't Eskel, his arms felt heavier around him. Eyes open for the kiss, Lambert saw an eyepatch and, as his assailant pulled away, a familiar green eye.

"Aiden." The word was a broken whisper of hope and disbelief. Lambert's hands cupped Aiden's cheeks, held him in place to be inspected, admired and committed to memory. "I thought you'd died. I'd avenged you."

"You're a real darling, thank you for that." Aiden smiled and placed his hands over Lambert's, warm palms holding glove covered ones in place. "But, by some twist of fate, I survived, more or less intact. Took a while to recover, Eskel found me in some remote temple, being healed by some monks. Dragged me back here as soon as I was able to make the journey."

Hands slipping from Aiden's face, Lambert pulled him in for a tight hug, eyes squeezed shut tight. He let Aiden go but only as far as keeping an arm wrapped around his waist. From where he stood, he looked over to the other three Wolves, standing together and watching them. Maybe, just maybe, they were more of a family than Lambert had dared hope. He wasn't certain yet, needed more time to accept that. But, for the first time in a long time, he had he spark of hope flickering in his heart.

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [21]

Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 21.5 OR Chapter 22

➜ Words: 4.5k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Baking is a mastery. It’s an ability that needs to be practiced and refined. It requires discipline and patience, especially when things go wrong. It’s problem solving and creative with never one right answer. It’s practically magic in a silver bowl, a whisk, and an oven. And Jungkook is the best wizard in this kitchen.   He preheats the oven to three hundred and seventy five degrees fahrenheit. Then he cuts parchment paper to line a baking sheet and moves to brush the ramekins with melted butter. Jungkook adds the tablespoon of white sugar and rotates the ramekins until the surfaces are coated in it.   Five ounces of seventy percent dark chocolate is put into a bowl with two ounces of semisweet chocolate and he melts it over a saucepan with hot water on low heat. Afterwards, he adds the egg yolks until the mixture stiffens. Jungkook wipes his sweat before he mixes in the tablespoon of flour and butter, reducing the heat to low and adding in some cold milk.   It’s thickened after three minutes and he adds salt, a pinch of cayenne pepper as a secret ingredient, and mixes.   The bowl is left over hot water while he whips egg whites with a pinch of cream of tartar, adding sugar after a bit to create glossy, soft peaks.   Jungkook transfers the egg whites into the soufflé base, folding it in gently one third at a time and then he divides the mixture to bake for a full fifteen minutes.   What he’s left with at the end is the best chocolate soufflé on the planet.   “What do you think?”   “It’s really good.” Aeri politely smiles and you roll your eyes.   “You don’t need to feed his ego. He’s been raving about it for days now.”   “And you’ve eaten at least ten of them.” Jungkook grins and you mutter incoherently, unable to really protest against the claim that’s all too true.   The soufflé is puffed and crusty on top, but still gooey and jiggly in the center. It’s risen to its maximum height without collapsing whatsoever, uniform all around. And the texture is cloud-like, soft with the chocolate taste melting on the palate.   It took two weeks to perfect — but the outcome made the effort all worth it.   “I call it the ultimate soufflé.”   Your brows raise. “The ultimate? Not Jungkook’s ultimate?”   “Nope. The ultimate.” He smirks and leans into you. “Want another one?”   You hope he doesn’t know that it takes a lot of strength for you to reject.   Jungkook’s good at baking. That much is clear. You’re not sure if he’s as good as you are of course, but anything that has to do with chocolate practically has his name on it. His chocolate soufflé is no exception. It’s fucking delicious. Enough that even Yoongi asks for seconds and Taehyung almost starts to cry.   But you don’t want to admit just how good it is since his ego’s been boundless these past few days.   “How does it feel to be in a relationship with the best chocolatier on Earth?” he pipes up suddenly when you haven’t even said a single word for the past five minutes. And when you tell Jungkook he’s not a chocolatier yet, he laughs and tells you he will be soon while condescendingly patting your head like you’re his pet.   As if that wasn’t enough, he interrupts snuggling time by rolling over with a pompous look on his face. “I’m just so happy right now.”   “Why?”   You’re expecting a corny answer along the lines of — ‘because you’re here’. But instead Jungkook sighs dreamily and says, “I really nailed that soufflé, didn’t I?”   It’s annoying. You’re just trying to live your life peacefully but in every shape, way, or form, no matter the context, he just has to bring up that goddamn soufflé like it’s his child he’s so proud of. It’s not like you aren’t happy for your boyfriend — frankly, you wouldn’t mind if he bragged or boasted about it to others. But he’s been constantly chirping about it in your ear. And any complaints from you would just warrant his grins and questions of if you’re jealous of his skills.   “I don’t know what to add to my portfolio,” you mention passingly one afternoon after much contemplation.   Your boyfriend hums. “You need something with chocolate, right?”   “Yeah.”   “Well, you could make my soufflé. I’m sure it would help with your grade a lot, but—,” Jungkook draws out the syllable with another sly smirk, “my recipe’s a secret. Sorry, babe. Wish I could help.”   In spite of your inner exhaustion and vexation, for the sake of being a good girlfriend, you simply nod and let him have his moment. Even if Jeon Jungkook was being unbearably arrogant and reminding you of why you hated him about a year ago, he was clearly happy with the recipe he worked so hard on and you didn’t want to step on that.    He deserves some personal limelight, so you let him have it.   But luckily, you don’t have to bear the weight of his smug ass by yourself for long.   “Yuna!” Your arm waves over your head. The high schooler smiles, rolling her luggage behind her and meeting with you halfway. Immediately, you engulf her in your arms even when she grumbles and resists. “How was the trip here? You’re not hungry, are you?”   “God, you’re like my mom,” she huffs. “It was fine. Hey, Jungkook.” Yuna shifts and smiles warmly at your boyfriend who nods, greeting her as well.   “Hey.”   “So this is the school you go to?”   You grin. “Sure is!”   The last time you were with Yuna, she expressed interest in the professional baking and pastry arts program. You didn’t expect that she would actually come visit during the week-long break for a tour but it was a surprise you welcomed. You hope you can take her interest and curiosity and inspire her.    “Namjoon and Sejeong packed some cookies for you. They told me to say...thanks….for showing me around when you’re busy and stuff.”   “It’s not a problem. I’m happy to.” You smile. “Tell them I said thanks too.”   “Taehyung’s joining us,” Jungkook reads off his phone and then pockets it. “Apparently, he’s bored.”   You shrug. “Fine by me.”    “Who’s Taehyung?” Yuna asks.   “Just a friend of ours,” you say to ease her obvious worries of the stranger.   The three of you wait a few minutes, getting caught up with one another as Yuna talks about what her last classes were about. But soon after, the tall brunette is strolling over with his hands buried in his white hoodie pockets. His hair is disheveled like he just rolled out of bed and you don’t think that’s too far from the truth.    “Jimin ditched me to go on some date with the chick from his classic desserts class,” he whines when he gets in ear-shot distance. “I thought I was going to die of boredom.”   “Tough life,” you scoff and don’t notice Yuna who’s frozen next to you. Her eyes are wide on the stranger, gaze sweeping up and down at him.    She swallows hard before stepping forward and making herself known. “H-Hi. My name is Kim Yuna.”   “Oh yeah.” Taehyung grins easily. “They told me about you.”   “Did they? I’m glad.” She giggles and tucks her hair behind her ear. You exchange expressions with Jungkook. This was an awfully familiar situation. “I’m Namjoon’s niece, their boss during their internship.”   “I’m Kim Taehyung.”   They shake hands and Yuna goes in for the kill without hesitation— “Does your girlfriend know you’re here?”   Taehyung is flustered, taken aback by the blunt question. “I….don’t have a girlfriend.”   “Great.” Yuna answers swiftly with a big smile.   You have to admit, she’s bold. The girl has some guts even you don’t have. And you’ve never witnessed Taehyung this perplexed either. It’s hard to catch someone as spontaneous as him off guard.   “How old are you?” Taehyung frowns, an apprehensive expression etched on his features like you’re telling him to touch a gooey substance in the corner of some dirty bathroom stall.   “I turned eighteen in May,” she declares bluntly.   But Taehyung looks unconvinced despite his slow nod. “That’s barely legal,” he mutters and only you and Jungkook catch it.   It’s hard to hold back laughter, but you try your best and interrupt— “Should we start the tour?”   You show her around campus, walking through the corridors, directing her where the lecture halls are and what classes are where. You tell her what it was like for first years and you show her the dormitories, the lockers, the dining hall, and the kitchen area.   All in the meanwhile, Taehyung sticks to Jungkook’s side like gum. It’s obvious that he’s intimidated by the petite high schooler and it’s an amusing sight.    But Yuna is a go-getter and somehow manages to get Taehyung beside her to answer her numerous questions. You and Jungkook fall back, no longer showing her the way and you’re reduced to watching their backsides.   “You know what I want to eat right now?” Jungkook turns to you, mumbling, “My soufflé.”   Here we go again….    You internally sigh, but maintain a stiff smile. “Uh-huh.”   “I should make it for Yuna. She’d be blown away.”   “What?” The younger girl twirls around at the mention of her name.   Jungkook grins at her. “You like soufflé? I make the best chocolate soufflé here.”   Yuna blinks, too innocent to know better. “Really?”   “Your soufflé isn’t even that good.” It’s a lie. “I bet I could do it better.” That’s an even bigger lie, but you can’t stop it once it’s spewed out of your mouth.   It goes silent.   Jungkook stops walking. Taehyung turns around.   “You think you can make a better chocolate soufflé than me?” Your boyfriend’s eyes narrow, taking personal offence.   You shrug — it’s too late to back down now. “Why not? Can’t be that hard.”   Jungkook scoffs with a stupidly smug expression, calling your bluff. “You can barely temper chocolate.”   “You underestimate me, Jeon,” you bite back and his lips curl.   “Fine. Let’s see then.”   //   It was a mistake — something said on impulse, after days of irritation bubbling in the pit of your stomach. It came tumbling out before you could know better, before you could think twice about the consequences, but now you’re standing in the kitchen at an impromptu competition.   “Welcome to the annual Jeon and L/N competition, everyone!”   “This isn’t annual,” you mutter at Taehyung’s unnecessary extravagance.   He corrects himself— “Welcome to the first annual Jeon and L/N competition, everyone!”   The word spread like wildfire, but luckily kept only in the group chat. The last thing you needed were acquaintances, classmates, and teachers coming to watch. The guys were noisy enough. And it’s a testament proven with Yoongi coming over, Hoseok sprinting to get here, and Jimin calling to tell everyone to wait for his date to be over. All of it was enough pressure you could handle at the moment.    But even Aeri had caught wind of what was going on and decided to come by.    It’s clear that there’s still tension between her and Hoseok. You don’t miss the strained expressions they exchange with one another before taking seats on the opposite ends, but you’re glad that they can at least be in the same room as one another. It’s an improvement. A sign of moving on.   Yet you don’t dwell on them — not when you have bigger fish to fry at the moment.   “Over here we have Y/N who believes she can make a better chocolate soufflé than Jungkook, an aspiring chocolatier who literally took weeks and weeks to perfect this recipe of his to make it the ultimate soufflé—”   “Alright, that’s enough,” you cut off Taehyung, the self-designated commentator, before you start actually sweating.   Jungkook is competitive. Everyone and their mother knows that. And that fact alone makes you nervous. He might just throw you entirely under the bus and burn your relationship to the ground for the sake of winning. You’re worried — but you don’t show it. You can’t.   If he knows you’re fearful, he’ll have the upper hand. So you feign indifference.   After all, if there was one similarity between you and Jungkook, it was that you weren’t going to back down without a fight either. You were born a winner and it was going to stay that way.   “And to make it more fair and maximize the amount of desserts we get to eat, over here we have Jeon Jungkook who will be making éclair. A pastry made with choux dough filled with cream and topped with chocolate icing. It is a specialty perfected by Y/N, an aspiring pâtisserie chef who dreams of running her own wedding cake catering services someday.”    “Two very different dishes that the opposing member has a speciality in.” Taehyung continues to narrate and nods his head, inadvertently making Yuna giggle, “Who can make it better? You’ll be the judge of that.”   It’s ridiculous, but you’re not going to cave in or surrender. Not when Jungkook’s ego was insurmountable and you’d never hear the end of it if you gave up.   An hour and a half is put on the clock. Your counters parallel to one another while your friends are gathered at the other, ready to watch, eat their snacks and hang around. You momentarily wonder why you never have the privilege of relaxing like them.   But you don’t think about it for too long. The moment Taehyung starts the time, you begin.   You preheat the oven and begin buttering the ramekins.    “How do you feel, Y/N?” Suddenly a whisk is thrusted in your face, almost puncturing your cheek. It’s a makeshift microphone that you push aside.   “Fine.”   “What are you doing now?”   “What does it look like?” You push Taehyung aside, grabbing sugar to coat the dish.   “Well alright then.” He laughs and slinks over to Jungkook’s side who’s humming underneath his breath. He’s much too casual as he finishes greasing a cookie sheet and moves to combine butter and water in a saucepan. “How about you, Jungkook?”   “Never been better.” The side of his lip is curled. Jungkook’s black long sleeve is pushed up to his elbows to reveal his forearms, and one peek at him is enough to feel your blood boil. It’s obvious that he doesn’t see you as a threat whatsoever.   “You think you’re going to win?”   “Unfortunately, I do.” Jungkook plays along with Taehyung’s antics, head so far up in the clouds.   “Why unfortunately?”   “Well, it’s not everyday I want to crush my girlfriend, but sometimes I just have to.” Jungkook twists to you. “Sorry, babe.”   You ignore him, too busy glancing at the label and dumping the chocolate into a small bowl with butter. In the meanwhile, Yoongi chews on his chips and scrutinizes. “Are you sure that’s the right kind?”   “Fuck off, Yoongi.”   It’s not like you haven’t done this before — you’re just not sure if yours can ever beat Jungkook’s.   You whisk in the six egg yolks and add a pinch of sea salt until the melted mixture thickens. At the same time, Jungkook is singing under his breath, forming his pastry dough and piping it out onto his baking sheet.   You don’t know how he works so fast, but you concentrate harder, ignoring Jimin asking Yuna if she likes the place so far, disregarding Yoongi’s snarky comments and Hoseok’s music that he turns on as background noise.   Once you place egg whites and half a teaspoon of cream of tartar in the electric mixer to beat, you’re finally able to take a moment of relief. Jungkook is also at his mixer beating his heavy cream for the filing. “Nervous, babe?”   You scoff at him. “As if.”   “Alright then.” Jungkook smirks, almost as if he finds your snobbery endearing.   You hate how he can see right through you, but you still maintain the facade anyhow. At this moment, he was your rival first and your boyfriend second.   “It smells so good.” Yuna inhales.   Aeri smiles at her. “That would be Jungkook's choux pastry in the oven.”   “Who do you think is going to win?” Taehyung suddenly asks the high schooler, thrusting the whisk in front of her.   She smiles gingerly. “I don’t know. Who do you think will win?”   Taehyung hums and ignores the protest of his friend when he says— “I’ll put my money on Y/N.”   “Want to bet on it then?” Yuna asks, lashes batting back and forth. “Loser takes the other person to dinner.”   “What about you, Chim?” Taehyung immediately diverts his vision, pretending that he doesn’t hear her deal. He even disregards Aeri and Hoseok’s stunned expressions of Yuna’s forwardness. “Who do you think?”   You add the sugar carefully, one tablespoon at a time until the egg whites hold glossy, stiff peaks. Then you’re gently folding the egg whites into your soufflé base until it’s a light and fluffy mixture ready to be put into the ramekins. But you know it’s too basic.    It would never beat Jungkook’s.   So in the midst of your inner hysteria, you sprinkle in a teaspoon of cinnamon and nutmeg. Yoongi, the only person who’s actually watching, quirks his brow but doesn’t say anything.   The soufflés are popped into the oven and by then, Jungkook is still working.    He’s letting his pastries cool on a rack, his filling already in a piping bag, and he’s busy making the icing.   “How do you feel now, Y/N?”   “The same.” You shrug. “I know I’m going to win, so…”   Your boyfriend lifts his chin, a small smirk gracing his lips. “We’ll see about that.”   “You aren’t intimidated whatsoever?” Taehyung asks. “I mean Jungkook’s soufflé was fucking deli—cious. It was like gooey on the inside and so soft, but really crispy on the outside and very, very chocolatey. It felt like an explosion of flavour—”   “Alright.” You shut him up and move over to steal Yoongi’s bag of chips, much to his dismay.   In the few minutes that you finally get to sit down and rest, you observe Jungkook.   In spite of his arrogance, he’s working quite hard. You’re impressed he agreed to make éclairs in just an hour and a half since it usually takes two. But Jungkook works quickly, efficiently, and your eyes can’t help lingering on his exposed forearms, the furrow of his brows, the tip of his tongue peeking out of his pink lips.   God. As competitive as you are, a part of you doesn’t even care who wins — you already feel like a winner.   The beeping of your oven breaks you out of your daydream.   “You should wipe off your saliva,” Yoongi mutters out of the corner of his mouth, knowing full well that you were ogling Jungkook in silence. You glare at the dark-haired man, a silent threat not to say anything lest it becomes clear you have other priorities other than winning.   You take your soufflés out of the oven, breathing a sigh of relief when you see them.   They all rose. A few with them have cracks and they’re not uniform whatsoever, but it’s more than you hoped for.   The aroma of chocolate fills the room, making Yuna antsy in her seat.   You begin dusting the top with powdered sugar.   “Two minutes left, chefs,” Hoseok warns with a grin, peeking over at Taehyung’s timer.   Jungkook is long finished piping his éclairs, already drizzled the chocolate icing over top of it and allowing them to set in the fridge. You step back from your counter as well. “I’m done.”   “Same here.”   “Finally!” Yuna is cheering. “Can we taste them now?”   You’re the first to go since the soufflés are still piping hot. It’s six servings with Yuna receiving the first one since she’s the guest of honour. Then the rest are passed to Taehyung, Yoongi, Jimin, Hoseok, Aeri. They dig in without hesitation and you watch with your breath hitched.   “It’s really good,” Hoseok says, chewing in his cheek.   “I like it a lot.” Aeri smiles. “You did a good job, Y/N.”   “Thanks.” Even if you don’t win, you feel great at your attempt.   Yuna hisses when it burns her tongue and she hums after letting it cool. There doesn’t seem to be any complaints from anyone.   “The top can be crustier. It’s baked well through though,” Yoongi notes pompously after sniffing his spoonful for the past minute to take in the scent. “Not half bad.”   “But is it better than Jungkook’s?” Taehyung asks.   It’s silent. No one can give a blatant answer. Jungkook is appalled that they even need to think about it.   “Give me that.” He grabs Jimin’s and takes a spoonful. Jungkook bites, chews, and his brows furrow. “What...is that? There's something in there that’s weird. Like the aftertaste is off.”   In hindsight, cinnamon and nutmeg probably wasn’t the best idea. But you don’t say anything and you plop your hand on Yoongi’s shoulder as an implicit warning not to speak about it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”   It’s your turn to take a taste and the moment it hits your tongue, you know the outcome.   It’s miles and miles away from Jungkook’s standards. Your soufflé is good, but not crying-worthy. It doesn’t bring tears to your eyes and make you remember your mother’s home cooking, how you gathered around the table for dessert during warm holidays.   The situation only gets shittier when you take a taste of Jungkook’s éclair. The custard is tangy and smooth, pastry crispy and buttery, chocolate icing sweet at all the right places. And all you can think is — what. the. fuck.    This guy had to have a cheat code for life. There’s no way he can be so good at everything he does. It’s impossible. It’s unbelievable. It’s unfair.   “What do you think?” Jungkook stares at you in particular, trying to gauge your reaction.   You swallow hard, managing a half-hearted shrug. “It’s decent.”   It’s clear with his smile he can see you’re trying to hide your true feelings. “Want me to save you seconds?”   “I’m fine.” You wave your hand at him, despite your heart saying otherwise. It causes Jungkook to chuckle, but he doesn’t push to spare your pride.   It’s hard to tell if his éclair is better than yours — but the mere fact that Jungkook hadn’t even had time to perfect his recipe or practice yet made it this good has your knees weak. You’re glad you don’t have him as your competition on a daily basis anymore.   “This is pretty good,” Yuna admits, licking off her fingers.   Yoongi seems to be enjoying it as well, eating quietly as he studies it. Hoseok is making noises at the back of his throat and Taehyung nods in approval. “Have you only made this once before?” Jimin asks.   “Once or twice. Can’t remember.” Jungkook grins and that’s even more impressive.   You’re conflicted of being proud of having such a talented boyfriend and being spiteful of him as a rival.   Eventually, Taehyung dismisses the two of you for the rest of them to ‘deliberate’ and judge.    You step out into the hallway and Jungkook throws his arm over your shoulder, pulling you close.   “Don’t be too sad when you lose, babe. I’ll comfort you with my golden trophy.”   “There is no trophy.”   “Hmmm, how about a kiss then?” His nose bumps against you, smiling wide.   You feign a pout. “I’ll think about it.”   “Alright, love birds.” Taehyung pokes his head out of the door in less than two minutes. “We’ve made our decision.”   You gather back together again. All of them are pretending to be very experienced pâtisserie chefs with decades of experience. It’s both an amusing and lame sight — but you don’t comment in case they decide to deduct your points and Jimin grins, reading off the paper he has in front of him.   “Y/N, your chocolate soufflé was very moist and delectable. It had the perfect amount of sweetness. We found your techniques to be very competent and proficient. The presentation was great. The texture was very soft and the flavour was very deep. The aftertaste, on the other hand, was unique and different. It caused many to continue tasting to pinpoint what it was. You obviously accomplished what you set out to do and you made a very tasty dessert.” Jimin clears his throat. “And Jungkook, your éclair was alright.”   “Y/N wins,” Yuna announces with giddy laughter, arms in the air.   “Wait.” Jungkook frowns. “What?”   “Me?” You point to yourself, starting to laugh. “I won!”   “It was a consensus,” Taehyung spits in the midst of giggles.   “This is obviously rigged!” Jungkook protests loudly.   “Don’t be a sore loser.” Hoseok shouts and the rest ignore his outcry.   Yoongi nods in approval. “Congratulations, Y/N.”   You put your hand over your heart. “Thank you.”   You didn’t plan this — maybe they were sick of Jungkook’s ego too or maybe they just thought it would be hilarious to see his reaction, but whatever the case may be, you’re glad that they have your back.   You lean over to your boyfriend, giving a brief peck on his pouting lips.   “This is so rigged,” he mutters, less upset after your kiss.   You smile at him and quirk your head to the side. “Life’s rigged, sweetheart. But tell me, how does it feel to be in a relationship with the best chocolatier on Earth?”   Jungkook scoffs, a grin spreads into his face.   //   Informal baking competitions are all fun and games, but it’s not so much at the end when there’s a mountain of dishes to wash in the sink and a whole kitchen to clean. The others have long left after satisfying their sweet tooths, so you and Jungkook have been hard at work yet again.   But in the midst of wiping down the counters, your eyes stray to Jungkook’s pastries.   He’s stepped out for a moment, so you take the opportunity swiftly by its throat.   You lurch across the floor and grab an éclair to eat.    But as you’re stuffing your face as fast as you can while relishing in the deliciousness, you don’t notice the man creeping up on you.   “Having those seconds, huh?”   You’re scared shitless, jolting, and you whirl around to see Jungkook with his shit eating grin that just screams ‘I knew it’. You’ve been caught in the act. There’s no denying it now.   All you can do is swallow your mouthful.   “So you liked it that much? You should’ve just admitted it from the start, Y/N. You know I can read you like an open book—”   You grab Jungkook by the back of his neck and pull him in for a smothering kiss, just to shut him up. It’s a slow kiss, one where he cleans the cream off your lips and tastes the sugar on your tongue.   It’s ambiguous who the real winner is. When you pull apart, you know you both feel like it.   “Happy?”   Jungkook laughs, nose scrunched and eyes crinkled. “Very.”

[ayellowcurtain]

Could you do an elu fic where Eliott is coming out of a depressive episode and wants Lucas to make love to him inside him because he needs reassurance that Lucas still wants him and finds him attractive even after being down for weeks?

Lucas keeps waiting for the time he’ll be able to see Eliott again, it’s weird to not live under the same roof as him. Eliott explicitly asked Lucas to stay away and Lucas shouldn’t take it personally but it’s hard when the person you love is looking at you like you’re the most annoying thing, triggering them into getting worse.

So he’s waiting, trying not to think about how Eliott is doing every second of every day.

The second he recognizes the phone number being from Eliott’s parents’ place, Lucas picks up right away, afraid of what he might hear. His brain always thinks of the worst-case scenario.

“Lucas?”

“Hi! Hi, Mrs. Demaury. Is everything okay?” Lucas pauses the movie he was trying to watch on his computer to distract himself.

“Yes, yes, sweetheart. He’s...still in bed but he’s been asking of you so I was wondering if you wanted to come to see him…”

Lucas lies on his bed, pulling his covers over his head. That’s all he wants but he doesn’t want to cross Eliott’s boundaries. What he wants and what his mom understands he wants can be two very different things.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

“Of course. I promise that if that wasn't the case I wouldn’t have called.” She sighs and Lucas finds a little bit of confidence in her tiredness. It’s horrible to think that but if she was overly optimistic he would feel that her call was just a big red flag, crossing Eliott’s wishes to get her way.  

“Okay. I’m on my way.”

Lucas closes his computer and rushes to put on some sneakers and a jacket, not carrying how terrible he looks with his comfortable sweatpants and an old hoodie.

He doesn’t care about the looks he gets while sitting on the bus, nervously tapping his feet constantly, biting his nails.

It feels like forever but it’s only been two weeks since they haven’t properly seen each other. Lucas thinks he might find a completely different Eliott even though it wasn’t that long.

“He’s taking a shower!” Lucas feels Eliott’s mom jumping a little during their welcoming hug, so excited with such a mundane task. And Lucas feels it too, looks at her, struggling to keep his tears. When Eliott is down, the very least thing he wants to do is take a shower. So this is great, amazing news.

“He knows that I was coming?” She nods her head, still smiling but clearly tired from stressing so much. Lucas steps aside, kicking his shoes off while she locks the door.

“I told him when I found him in the bathroom.”

“Do you think he’ll eat if I make us something?” Eliott loves Lucas’ food. He’s no chef but it’s one of their things, and Lucas is more than happy to cook for Eliott any day. And his mom is probably exhausted and in with no desire to cook - it runs in the family, the lack of interest for cooking - and she sighs so loudly, dropping her hands against her sides that it makes Lucas laugh.

“Oh my god. I know why he loves you so much.”

She puts her hand in his back and leads him to the kitchen, the fanciest kitchen Lucas has ever seen.

“Feel free to do anything you want, my love. The pantry is right behind that door,” she points to the big door right next to the industrial oven, “And I’m gonna get him some clean clothes.”

It feels like they’re planning a sad surprise, not sure how Eliott is but so excited he’s a little more responsive.

She runs around the place, grabbing clean clothes right out of the dryer, still warm and comfortable, and runs back down the hall, where Lucas can hear the water running, imagining Eliott having to lower his head to fit under the showerhead. Lucas misses him so much it feels like a first blind date that Eliott’s mom is setting for them.

He decides on some cheesy, delicious pasta that comforts him on his bad days. For once he can make it properly, using the expensive cheese he can’t afford but Eliott’s parents can. He makes almost the whole bag because he’s also starving and if Eliott doesn’t eat, his parents can enjoy it.

It’s so nerve recking that demands Lucas’ full attention, trying to find all the ingredients, trying to not let the pasta overcook and make it in the perfect time that when Eliott is done with his shower, the pasta will still be warm, the cheese will still be soft.

Suddenly, there’s a shadow next to him and he looks, finding the love of his life right there, leaning against the counter slowly like he’s sore from working out too much, unable to move normally.

“Hi…” Lucas tries not to be too loud but it’s hard when he’s this nervous to be around Eliott again, being seen by him.

Eliott smiles, his hair still damp and not brushed or styled at all, the tips falling forward a little bit, “Hello.”

“Are you hungry?” Eliott nods his head, looking at the pan, Lucas almost ready to turn it off and wait for it to cool down for a moment.

“A little bit.” His eyes are smaller than usual, a little bit red and puffy but Lucas doesn’t ask. Eliott wouldn’t be here, standing and talking to him if he was still angry. So Lucas does what he’s been desperate to do, holding the wooden spoon with his other hand so he can run his fingers through Eliott’s soft hair, putting it to the side so he can properly see his boyfriend completely. Eliott smiles and closes his eyes when Lucas slips his hand down, touching his still flushed cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

Every time Eliott apologizes, his voice is so heavy with embarrassment, shame, and frustration that it makes Lucas want to hug him so tight and never let go. It makes him forget how hurt he was when they were fighting, every time.

“It’s okay.”

Eliott puts his hand over Lucas’ and slowly they put their hands down and Eliott moves on to do some other thing. Lucas follows him with his eyes to find his mom behind the island, setting the dining table for the three of them, clearly going a little too far with her limits but she’s looking at Eliott and she doesn’t find any extreme despair for sitting to eat with her and Lucas so she smiles and continues, always moving quickly.

They sit and talk while Lucas is putting his pasta in three bowls, two bigger than the third one and while he puts them all in front of each chair, Eliott’s mom rushes to the fridge to get them some cold water.

She acts how Lucas is doing with college and how is his mom doing and they make small talk over dinner, happy to hear Eliott when he makes a comment or two. Lucas starts gathering all the dirty dishes but she stops him, smiling.

“Please, don’t you worry about the dishes! You made us some delicious dinner, the least I can do is put this in the dishwasher and give you two the rest of the night off.”

Lucas looks at Eliott, worried he might be overstaying but Eliott smiles at him and gets up, grabbing Lucas’ hand so they can go to his bedroom.

He’s in awe that he’ll get to spend a few more hours with Eliott, probably watching some movie, with Eliott lying his head on Lucas’ chest but he’s caught by surprise when Eliott pulls him closer and kisses him the second they’re safe inside his bedroom, one arm going around Lucas’ waist, his long and often distracting fingers pressing against the small of his back under his shirt.

“Eliott…” Lucas hisses, feeling his whole body instantly respond, melting against Eliott’s touch, “We should...watch a movie.”

He tries to be rational but Eliott starts kissing his cheek, down his neck and it’s hard to say no to that, ever. Eliott lifts his shirt slowly and Lucas should keep his arms down, say they should just chill for tonight but he’s already shirtless, watching Eliott kiss his chest, his hand in the back of his neck.

Eliott walks them to the bed and Lucas lets himself be selfish, kissing his boyfriend until he gets out of breath.

He’s always with a one-second delay, still in awe that he has Eliott back, kissing his navel while pushing his pants down his thighs, carefully pushing down his calves. Lucas wasn’t expecting this eagerness and no matter how much he loves it, he can’t stop worrying that easily either.

“Eliott...Eliott.” He holds his face with both his hands, really needing a minute of actual conversation to make sure they should be doing this.

Eliott grunts, lying on top of him with his whole weight, pressing his forehead against Lucas’ chest before looking up. Lucas feels a little exposed being already naked with Eliott still wearing his soft sweatpants, lying in between his legs but it’s the type of exposure that feels like he’s in a rollercoaster, taking his breath away.

Eliott looks up at him and Lucas feels his own heart beating so fast, so happy to be with Eliott again, holding his hair to the side so they can see each other.

“I miss you. I miss us. I don’t want to lose you, for you to find someone better, who you’re attracted to and doesn’t give you more problems-”

Lucas pulls him up and presses their lips together.

“Don’t say that. You know it won’t happen.”

“It could. I’m a mess, Lucas, and you’re so fucking beautiful.”

He wants to say how he couldn’t care less about the rest of the world if Eliott is not with him but he’s faster, kissing Lucas again, pressing their hips together, pulling a moan out of Lucas.

“I want you, please. To feel that you still want me. No condoms.” Eliott pants against his lips and Lucas can’t control how it makes his back arch even more, looking to keep their bodies as close together as possible. He nods his head and rolls them in bed, getting rid of Eliott’s sweatpants and underwear too, needing to show him how crazy Lucas is about Eliott and only him.

[charincharge]

AN: Part 3 of that Rowaelin Actress AU you’ve all been asking for. Because y’all are masochists. I’m fully convinced. Anyway. If you missed the first two parts, they’re linked below.

Part 1, Part 2

Manon shot Aelin an exasperated look as her stylist struggled to fix her premiere dress.

The man shoved another pin between his teeth as he pinched up the loose fabric at Aelin’s waist. The once form-fitting red gown fell limply across her bony shoulders.

“How did you lose this much weight in a month, sweetie?” Dorian asked as he tugged the thin straps up, pinning them to show how much he’d need to cut. Aelin ignored the shared look of worry between her team members. She didn’t bother responding. Nothing that would make sense to him, anyway. As his fingers fumbled with the fabric, Aelin looked at herself in the mirror.

Despite her red carpet makeup, she still looked exhausted. And she felt it, too. Her hands shook with the faintest tremor, betraying her withdrawal. And though she’d wanted her hair down in loose waves, her glam squad was shocked to discover that bits of it were breaking off the back. Brittle from malnutrition, one had whispered.

She was trying to kick her drug habit. She really was. It’d been a full day since her last bump, since Arobynn had handed her that small precious baggie of white powder she’d come to treasure so much. But, she wanted to get away from the man who’d controlled every aspect of her life for the last year, and she couldn’t let him have this over her. She’d find another way. She couldn’t bear his steely gaze or his possessive touch on her skin anymore. She’d regretted it as soon as she’d flushed the baggie down the toilet, her hands twitching to reverse the motion and grabbing at it as it swirled down the plumbing. But she knew it was for the best. She could do this.

“Dor, can you make this work?” Manon asked as Dorian sighed loudly.

“Grab me those scissors.” He motioned behind her. Manon handed them over, and he quickly got to work, snipping the straps to help pull the dress up more as he pinned them to the inside of the dress. He took the excess fabric he’d snipped and wrapped it around Aelin’s too-thin stomach in a cinched belt.

“Eh?” he raised his eyebrow in Manon’s direction, who couldn’t resist kissing him on the cheek.

“You’re a miracle worker.”

Dorian’s cheeks flushed slightly as he waved the usually stoic publicist off. “If they ask who’s it is, just say custom couture.”

Manon nodded succinctly and pulled Aelin over to the chair to help her slide into her towering heels.

“Do you need anything before we go?” Manon asked pointedly.

“Nope,” Aelin said, shaking her head. She would not break.

Manon sighed loudly, and ushered her into the black car waiting downstairs. The ride to the premiere was tense and silent, the only sound Manon’s long nails click-clacking away on her phone screen as she replied to a barrage of texts and emails.

The car finally pulled up, and as Aelin was about to exit the vehicle, she felt Manon’s hand clasp gently onto her forearm.

“Hey,” Manon said in a soft voice Aelin had never heard her use before. “I’m proud of you.”

Aelin’s eyes swam with unshed tears at her publicist’s words of affirmation. The brash and cold woman rarely gave anyone any kind of praise, so the words meant more than Aelin could fully process, her heart clenching with an overflow of emotion. She nodded succinctly and exited the car with a wide smile and a big wave for the screaming fans, blinking the tears away as she made her way to the first interview down the long line of press.

Her rehearsed answers came naturally, and she could almost see the end in sight as she looked ahead to the last two press members ahead. She was so close to being able to sit down, so close to being finished with this project and putting it behind her, and sleeping for a month.

She felt Arobynn’s presence behind her before the interviewer acknowledged him. His hand hovered over the bare skin of her back, and she fought the instinct to shiver as the his clammy palm pressed against her.

“There’s my star,” he said with a wide grin, leaning in to kiss Aelin’s cheek lightly. She swallowed back her feeling of disgust, forcing a small smile onto her face as cameras flashed all around her.

“Arobynn! Arobynn!” the photographers cried from every angle. “Can we get a picture of you and Aelin?”

Manon attempted to keep Aelin with the interviewer, insisting they were in the middle, but Arobynn ignored her, pulling Aelin’s toward the step and repeat background for a photo op.

Aelin had planned to do it last, a short walk across the step-and-repeat for photos and then duck into the premiere, but it seemed that her plans had been foiled. Stuck with Arobynn’s hand around her waist, she plastered a smile across her red lips and placed her cocked arm on her bony hip.

Her head looked away from the bright lights of the flashing cameras, suddenly feeling light-headed and overwhelmed, and she caught sight of a head of silver hair and couldn’t help but feel better. She’d made the decision to tell Rowan what was going on with her. It was way overdue, she knew, but it was a conversation she’d wanted to have sober and in person. And today seemed like the perfect opportunity. She’d have the entire movie to gear herself up for it, and then she could find a private place to discuss with him at the afterparty.

“Rowan!” the photographers called out. “Rowan, look over here! Rowan, why don’t you pose with Arobynn and Aelin?”

Aelin held her breath as Arobynn’s fingers dug into her side, grasping at her skin with uncomfortable pressure, as Rowan appeared at Aelin’s other side. His arm ghosted around her shoulders, barely pressing against her as he donned a wide smile for the cameras.

Flashing cameras went wild at the new combination of people in front of them – the director, the star, and the writer – and Aelin attempted to relax her smile to look more natural as she moved her arm to wrap around his sturdy waist.

“Rowan! Who’s your date tonight? New girlfriend?” a loud photographer called, and Rowan just shook his head, smiling graciously. But sure enough, as Aelin looked ahead of them, waiting on the other side of the step and repeat was a stunning blonde woman, staring at Rowan like he was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen.

Aelin’s stomach knotted as a feeling of nausea swept across her chest.

She’d waited too long. She was too late.

If Rowan had brought a date to the premiere and walked the carpet with her, it wasn’t something casual; it was real. Aelin chanced a glance up at him, but as if he could feel her looking, he looked away, over her shoulder at the girl waiting for him. He flashed her a wide smile, his cheeks flushing and his eyes alight with joy.

Aelin hadn’t seen that look in so long. She hadn’t realized how much she’d miss it when it wasn’t directed at her. Her heart pounded, and her skin prickled with goosebumps as a soft sheen of sweat broke across her brow.

Aelin motioned to Manon with a four-fingered wave, their emergency signal to be removed from a situation. Manon’s golden eyes narrowed as she approached the trio, apologizing to the photographers behind her.

“Sorry, folks, I need Aelin!” she said, reaching for Aelin’s limp hand and placing it through her bent arm. Aelin held on for dear life as her publicist swept her down the remainder of the press line, apologizing for needing Aelin inside. Aelin waved with as much enthusiasm she could muster, but her head swam, the floor becoming uneven beneath her feet with each uneasy step.

Manon shoved her into the ladies’ room, ushering everyone else out and locking the door behind her.

“You look green, babe, are you okay?” Manon asked as she helped Aelin sit on the large settee in the bathroom.

“I think I might pass out,” Aelin said, gasping for air. Manon pulled something from her purse as Aelin leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, hoping her clammy skin wouldn’t stain the silk of the gown.

“Eat,” Manon ordered as she shoved a baggie of Teddy Grahams in front of Aelin’s face.

Aelin made a face as she opened the bag with shaky hands. “Movie snack?” she tried to joke, but it fell flat. Manon rolled her eyes and stared harder until Aelin took one of the cookies and placed it in her mouth. She chewed slowly, the sugary sweetness feeling thick and cloying on her tongue.

“I have a toddler,” Manon said, shocking the hell out of Aelin. “I always have snacks in my purse.” Aelin paused her chewing. “Don’t look so surprised,” Manon said with a wry smirk. “Who do you think I’m always texting?”

“Clients?” Aelin croaked.

“Nanny.”

“Can I see a picture?” Aelin asked, and Manon bit her lip, warring with herself before finally showing Aelin a picture of a sweet toddler with honey eyes and Manon’s same white-blonde hair, wearing the cutest fluffiest dress Aelin had ever seen.

Before she could process anything, Aelin’s body heaved. She ran into the stall and heaved up the two cookies she’d consumed, her body expelling the sugary snack as soon as it hit her stomach.

Manon sighed. “What day of withdrawal are you on?”

“Two?” Aelin dabbed at her mouth with toilet paper, spitting the remnants of crumbs ungracefully into the bowl.

Manon helped her stand and sighed even louder. “I can’t believe I’m going to suggest this, but…. You need to make it through the end of the night, and you can’t be passing out or running to the bathroom to puke every ten minutes. Ask Arobynn for a bump.”

Aelin frowned. That was the last thing she wanted to do. She’d had all these plans. But she couldn’t help but agree with her publicist. Plus, it’s not like it mattered anymore. She had no need to explain anything to Rowan anymore, and she certainly didn’t plan on talking to him or his new girlfriend while she was tweaking.

But she wouldn’t resort to asking Arobynn. She couldn’t.

Still, she nodded at her publicist. She’d find some elsewhere.

As she made her way into the theater and took her seat next to Archer, she avoided looking at anyone, despite the heavy pressing feeling of eyes on her back.

Her costar smiled at her, content to excitedly chat about seeing the film for the first time. She noticed he was slightly twitchy, and Aelin nearly clapped for joy when she noticed him rub at his nose.

“Partying without me?” she whispered, and Archer shot her a dubious look.

“I didn’t think you partied with anyone but our director, Galathynius,” he said lowly.

“I’m branching out,” she said as she leaned forward. She placed her hand on his tux-clad arm and gave him the most seductive smile she could possibly feign with as little energy as she had. But it seemed to work. Archer’s eyes flashed, and he returned her expression with a roguish grin.

“Well, then,” he said, resting his hand on her silken thigh. “Find me at the party.” He winked at her, and she chuckled softly, squeezing his hand before placing it back in his own lap.

A harsh whisper made Aelin’s neck prickle behind her as she heard a hushed female voice say her name. She glanced over her shoulder and watched as Rowan nodded in response to the woman whispering in his ear. Their faces were so close, and Aelin could feel herself growing nauseous again.

Instead, she whipped her head back toward the screen and let herself zone out as the lights dimmed. She barely remembered the movie; it crossed her vision but never penetrated her consciousness. Memories of her and Rowan, tangled in his bed and running lines pervaded her senses.

When she arrived at the party, she knew she had to seek out Archer immediately. She was fading fast.

She’d just spotted him when Rowan crossed her path. His warm smile made her stomach flutter.

“Aelin.” Her name on his lips was everything she wanted, but her eyes pulled to the woman waiting beside him. “I was looking for you. I wanted to introduce you to—”

Aelin couldn’t bear to be introduced to Rowan’s girlfriend, though. Not yet. Not before she’d drowned herself in a white haze of drugs.

She spotted Archer out of the corner of her eye, and she smiled graciously, not wanting to be rude. “Sorry, I’ll come find you in a minute. I just have to…”

She pointed over his shoulder at Archer, who grinned lasciviously and winked at her, beckoning her with a curling finger.

Rowan’s expression changed to something she couldn’t quite parse out, but she didn’t have time to anyway. She was a woman on a mission as she followed Archer into the coat closet, cutting up half a baggie and snorting it quickly.

“Shit,” Archer laughed. “Some of that was for me! That was a big fucking bump.”

The white crystals worked quickly, creating a swirl of relaxation in her body, making her feel invincible. Instead of letting him take the last bump, Aelin leaned down and took it for herself.

“You snooze, you lose,” she laughed loudly, feeling loose and confident as she stumbled out of the coat closet.

Her heel snagged the bottom of her dress, and she launched forward into the arms of someone waiting just outside the closet. She fell into a hard chest with a loud oomph, and she couldn’t resist laughing again, feeling better and better as the drugs worked their way through her system.

She looked up to see the arms that had caught her and smiled guiltily at Rowan’s pained face. She blinked, hoping to change his expression, but with each slow blink, the image of Rowan faded away. She reached out, grasping for his face, pleading with him to stay, but before she could touch him, he disappeared. Her heart pounded too fast in her chest, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to calm herself.

“Aelin?” a faraway voice called. “Aelin?”

She could just barely hear him over the rush of blood in her ears. It swirled and swooshed around her ears, deafeningly loud as the world faded to white.

~*~

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[tooruluv]

Tooru Oikawa x F!Reader ( part 6 )

❝ my love for him is much like winter, a skeleton for the world to see. too bad he never liked the cold. ❞

description: being the neighbor and lifelong best friend of tooru oikawa definitely had it’s perks. you were never an outcast, always had a seat at lunch, got into volleyball games for free. the problem was, however, that being in love with him outweighed those perks. you would never tell him that, though, even if it hurt like hell.

genre: best friends to lovers, angst, unrequited love, fluff if you squint hard enough

word count: 2,182

warnings/notes: didn’t know yall were SIMPS for kuroo... anyway here’s more angst for y’all

tag list: @afuckingunicornn​​ @maii-flowers​​ @clandestinerays​​ @brownandchill​​ @readeretal​​ @wedojustbevibin​​ @shigarakiskitten​​ @shittykawaa​​ @saeranoppa​ @srirachibi​

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“I brought the good nacho popcorn seasoning!” Kuroo told you as he rummaged around inside of his bag.

Tetsurou Kuroo had become a close friend in a short amount of time (it seems as though that was something happening to you often, these days). The “mall date” was full of conversation and laughter. You found out he was an only child, played volleyball himself and went to some camp, that he’s never had a girlfriend, and that he’s actually very funny. He grew on you.

You both sat on the couch, claiming it from your parents as you usually do on Saturday nights. This time, it was just with a different boy. Your parents didn’t mind.

Kuroo tossed the bottle to you once he found it. You caught it, and immediately started to pour it into the bowl that was full of popcorn and m&m’s.

Not too long after, the both of you had a scary movie on. You both sat on the couch, the bowl on the table in front of you. He sat with one leg tucked under his outstretched one, his arms crossed into his hoodie pockets. You sat next to him, a couple inches between so you don’t rub your leg against his. Your legs were brought to your chest.

“Are you cold?” Kuroo asked you, leaning forward to get a better look at your face.

“Just a little.”

Before you could protest, he took his hoodie off and held it out for you. You were about to deny his offer when he decided to lean back and literally shove the thing onto your head.

You were giggling when you pulled your arms through. “Thank you, but I could’ve just grabbed a blanket.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He turned his attention back to the TV. Was that a blush? “You look good in red.”

You couldn’t help but smile. You moved closer to him, your body flush with his. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, something you hadn’t felt in a minute, and both of you smiled as someone got killed on screen.

Tooru Oikawa had always been your safety net. He was the one you went to for absolutely everything, even if it was a minor inconvenience. He was the one you called if you were lost, the one you exchanged looks with when the teacher would say something that could be passed as an innuendo, the one you would go to if you had a splinter or broken nail. And that safety would go both ways.

He would always show up in the middle of the night, or ask you to join him on the occasional Monday for you to watch him practice when he’s supposed to have the day off, or even facetime you just because.

Yet, this time, when you received a very drunk call from Oikawa, it didn’t feel normal.

You missed the call (it was at five in the morning), but you were left a very long voicemail from the boy.

“Nut!~” He slurred into the phone, basically directly onto the speaker. “Hello love. Hi. I drank a lot tonight. By myself. Very good. I should do this more often.”

You smiled to yourself. Oikawa hated being drunk, he would always make a point to never drink whenever he had the opportunity to. It was cute, the slurred and soft-spoken version of Oikawa you were receiving.

“I just wanted to say. I miss you. A lot. That’s why I came over the other day. I have so much I want to tell you but I…” Something muffled the speaker, and you couldn’t hear what exactly he was saying after that. Until, “Yeah, I just miss you a lot. I sleep now.”

You listened to it again.

Iwaizumi sent you a text Sunday. You were at dinner with your parents, out at some restaurant for the night. You went to the bathroom to read it (your parents had a rule: no phones at the dinner table if you’re eating as a family).

“I told my parents.” It said.

“You don’t drink.” You said to Oikawa Monday morning. You didn’t look at him, both of you at your lockers. He sent you a look.

“I don’t drink.” He repeated.

You finally shut your locker and looked up at him. The first time in a long time that you were talking. He seemed taller, thinner.

“Why were you drunk this weekend?”

Oikawa’s eyes wouldn’t meet yours. He shook his head. “I wasn’t.”

“You’re lying to me now?”

He shut his locker and started to walk down the hall. Before he could get far, you stepped in front of him and cut him off. He stopped.

“I got a voicemail from you.” You told him, and his eyes shot to yours. “I miss you, too. I don’t know why you won’t talk to me, but I miss you too.”

For a moment, it was just the both of you standing alone in the hallway. Like nothing else really mattered. He was finding the right words to say, and you waited for him to reply. Your chest was aching, and you wanted to throw the word “love” at him right then.

“I…I miss you a lot.” He finally said. You held back a smile. “But, um, can we talk? Later?”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” You were too eager, you knew. “We can talk later.”

Oikawa sent you a smile, something you missed, and your eyes found his tie. Before thinking, you reached up to tighten it. He chuckled.

“Yeah, I can’t fucking get this shit right.” He told you, letting you bring him closer to push it up. “Sana’s been fixing it at breakfast but I was running late this morning so we didn’t go.”

“Good thing I’m always here, huh?”

You walked next to Iwaizumi and Matsukawa on the way to lunch (the library). They were holding hands, openly smiling and giggling and being gay. You loved it.

“What was it like?” You asked them as you sat at the usual table.

“When I told my mom that I liked guys and I think I’m bisexual, do you want to know what she said?” Iwaizumi asked you. You nodded. “She said, and I quote, “well I can’t blame you, I like guys too”. I was so nervous for nothing. My dad even told me that it was okay and he’s fine with it as long as I’m happy, he just didn’t want to hear the details.”

“Your mom is iconic.”

Tooru Oikawa was not someone who could hide in a crowd. You could always pick him out of everyone, always spot him through the human traffic. It also helped that he was tall.

That being said, you found him instantly.

He wanted to meet at a park, as he was watching his nephew and his older brother was at work. You joined, of course, and you always found his nephew adorable.

You sat on the bench next to him. The very first time you have ever felt uncomfortable enough to sit further away from him. He noticed.

“We almost kissed.” He finally said, eyes following his nephew on the playset. He seemed tense, back straight and hands clasped together.

“Yeah.” You twisted your fingers in your lap. “Almost.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” You were forgiven weeks ago.

“I do, though.” Oikawa finally looked at you. “I almost kissed you when I just became official with Sana the night before. I shouldn’t have done that. And I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t upset about you almost kissing me.” You told him, staring at him. “I was never mad at that. It’s you ignoring me and avoiding me like the plague that I don’t particularly enjoy.”

“Right.” He bit the inside of his mouth. “I just…I couldn’t really…I felt really guilty. Having enough feelings to kiss you, but standing hand in hand with Sana. I haven’t told her about it.”

“I haven’t either.”

“Yeah, you two are close.”

“She’s very nice, and good company.” You told him. “You chose a good one.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

He blinked a couple of times, like his eyes would fix what he heard. “What are you apologizing for?”

“Everything. Me and Iwa talked some shit about you.”

“I’m not surprised, I’ve been acting like a dick.”

“Ah, we prefer the word asshole.”

You both chuckled, and you ducked your head. His eyes were back on his nephew, who waved at you both from the top of the castle.

“Listen, I’m not going to push you to be my friend again.” You said. “If I make you uncomfortable or make you question your relationship, I’m not going to be mad at you.”

“Be your friend again.” He mumbled, shaking his head like it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “I never considered us not being friends. And you would never make me uncomfortable, ever. I just…”

“I know.” You stood up. His eyes jumped to you, head tilting up. “Let me know when you figure out whatever you need to figure out. Until then, I’m still right next door and a drunk call away.”

His mouth gaped as if you offended him, but there was a smile behind it. “God damn it, nut, just delete the voicemail!”

“No, I think I’ll keep it.” You brought your phone out and played it. His drunken slur came over the speakers. “Nut! Hello love. Hi!” you mocked him as his voice played.

Oikawa stood up, face red. “Oh my god! Stop! That’s embarrassing!”

He chased you as you continued to mimic him over the voicemail. You didn’t know every word, of course, but you knew when he was going to say certain things. You laughed as he chased you onto the playground.

“Takeru! Help!” you called, holding the phone up so Oikawa couldn’t get it.

“No, Takeru!” he called for his nephew. “Give me the phone, she’s a traitor!”

“Nice try, Uncle.” Takeru grabbed your phone and shook it from his spot on the very top. “She already told me that you were the spy for the English. We must take you to jail! Thank you, Auntie, for the valuable information. We will promote you to Head Knight.”

You giggled at Oikawa’s surprised and embarrassed face. You mouthed “Head Knight” at him, pointing at yourself. He rolled his eyes, but kept smiling at you.

You wore Kuroo’s hoodie the next time you met up with him. A fun fact about Kuroo: the man loves coffee. So, you weren’t surprised when he asked to meet at a coffee shop around the corner from where you buy alcohol. You wonder what he would say if you told him about buying shit from there.

“Damn, that hoodie looks familiar.” He told you when you sat across from him.

“Yeah, it’s comfy.” You said, smiling. “A pretty cool dude let me borrow it.”

“Ah, he let you keep it.” He corrected, hands already around a warm cup of black coffee.

You raised a brow. “I guess I’ll keep it then.”

“So…” Sana threw a piece of candy into the air to catch in her mouth. “You and Kuroo?”

This time, it was Iwaizumi and Sana at your house. Your two best friends. It was a strange combo, to you, as you always separated them in your head. But they actually got along quite easily, immediately started to roast and complain about Oikawa.

The three of you were in your bedroom. You sat on your bed, Iwaizumi on the floor by the door, and Sana sat in your desk chair. You were playing a game: try to catch the candy in your mouth. So far, Iwaizumi was winning (he hadn’t missed a single one, even if your throws were trash).

“What about me and Kuroo?”

“Oh, come on,” Sana scoffed, shaking her head. “You have been spending a lot of time with him. Spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill.” You caught a piece she threw up for you. As you chewed, “We’re very good friends. He’s cool.”

“Alright that’s it. Who is it?”

“Who is what?” you blinked.

“The other boy.”

You gulped, looking quickly at Iwaizumi. He just looked at you, wide eyed and confused.

“You told me that you’ve had a thing for another boy for a long time but he doesn’t feel the same.” Sana continued, her attention fully on you. “And he’s obviously the reason that you’re not going for Kuroo. You’re in love with someone else, and you’re throwing away a perfectly good relationship with someone who actually likes you.” She leaned forward. “So, I’ll ask again. Who is the boy?”

You didn’t say anything, your silence the only answer you could give. Iwaizumi’s eyes went back and forth between you two, staying just as silent.

“Who is it?” Sana asked again, held tilted. When you looked at the floor, it was like a rush of realization dawned on her. The air turned tense, but not negative. Like you couldn’t breathe.

“Oh.”

[kurosara]

Hongjoong x Reader

I didn’t proofread this or anything. I just wrote some middle of the night comfort I needed. 

Angst, sad

I felt my spine unconsciously shiver as yet another cool breeze fluttered heavily past me. A quick glance at my phone told me it was nearing 3 in the morning. The dim light of the screen faded, as my eyes cast back to the bare sky. It was a new moon tonight, and there weren’t many stars out either. There wasn’t anything interesting in the chilly fall weather, unless you counted the never slowing raindrops falling down my cheeks.

Why was I even crying again?

I couldn’t remember. I’d been crying that long. It hadn’t felt like it, but I’ve been sitting on the balcony of my bedroom, suffering in the chilled air, for nearly 6 hours. How long could such an overwhelming feeling last?

An eternity…

A cynical voice taunted me further with evasive thoughts similar to this. It’s dark, and lonely. I’ve whispered curses and wishes to no one. I’ve replied to… no one. Because all I could wonder was if anyone was really listening. The neatly decorated interior, fit with (f/c) furniture and various art pieces and large photos of me and my boyfriend hanging on the wall, felt eerily cruel the moment I walked in. The fleeting thought of my boyfriend stuck for a moment, like the breath hitching in my throat as I visualized his soft smile, a bit of nervousness from smiling at me for the very first time. The happy thought turned sour, the smile fading into a blank stare.

“I’ll be home late…”

The image dissipated with his words. I could barely taste the remnants of the ramen bowl I’d forced down before coming out onto the balcony. The taste was bitter and dry as I forcefully swallowed the growing lump of anxiety. My fingernails, or rather the remaining nubs since I’d chewed off all my nails earlier, felt sticky as they scratched nervously at the cold concrete I was sitting on. I could only assume it was blood from the scraping contact. The balcony’s railing taunted me similar to bars of a jail cell. But at least in prison there are other people.

But here? In this dark and lonely space I created for myself? There is no one. I’ve self-isolated. And every attempt to escape has never been followed through. If I unlocked my phone you’d see the contact pulled up where I’ve nearly called him. And before that a lengthy text that boiled down to one thing; I need you. The text was never sent of course. However, even now as I describe these feelings and sensations, I don’t feel them. They aren’t processed in my mind or my physical body. I simply sat in the corner of the balcony, knees pulled to my chest, staring into pure dark, as my body and the world continued past my racing thoughts of how this is where I should be.

I deserved to be alone.

Keys jingled in the background and it was painfully obvious the individual tried being quiet, but it wouldn’t matter. He could’ve kicked the door in screaming, and I wouldn’t budge an inch.

Hongjoong removed his shoes and hung up his coat on the nearby rack. His bag made a soft sound as he tried to gently slide it onto the couch, hoping his partner was sleeping peacefully, and trying not to disturb that. As he typically did when he ended up home this late, he trekked to the kitchen for a bottle of water to carry to bed. As he exited the kitchen, a cold breeze caught his attention.

Where’s that coming from?

Just like Hongjoong. He knew how much I hated being the slightest bit cold, so the house was always a warm temperature. He narrowed his eyes slightly as he gazed around the empty living room, noticing the cracked balcony door. Cautiously, he approached the door, peering out just the slightest bit and hoping there was no intruder lurking around.

Though he’d really hoped for that to be the case right now versus the sight he was met with.

His eyes barely made out my trembling figure in the corner, huddled against the wall. Immediately Hongjoong turned on the outdoor light and rushed to my side, carefully kneeling beside me.

“Y-y/n?” The worry was so thick in his voice, yet sweet. Like honey.

There he was. My boyfriend. Acknowledging my presence as he always does, yet I hadn’t heard a word. There was no light, though he very clearly turned one on. For a moment Hongjoong panicked. His eyes worriedly scanned my body, searching for any signs of hurt or reason for my being like this. He saw the bloody fingers and the tears still flowing. He knew what was happening, for sadly he’d seen it too many times even before they were dating. At least more times than I’d like. By now though, Hongjoong knew almost how to help. He adjusted his position to sit in front of me, his knees pulled up like mine. He touched his knees to mine, gently pulling my hands from the concrete as he rubbed soothing circles with his thumbs.

I felt the tingling of sensation from the touch, still all I saw was a never ending tunnel of darkness. Hongjoong brought my knuckles to his lips, placing gentle kisses on them before resting them onto our knees. His thumbs didn’t stop caressing the top of my hands as he simply stared into my eyes and mustered the kindest smile he could as he looked at my broken state.

“I know you probably won’t process what I’m saying right now, and that’s alright. Just focus on my voice ok?” He took a shaky breath, feeling his own tears well up, “You’ve been having a hard time lately haven’t you? I know you’ve been eating well and everything because I’ve seen it, but that doesn’t mean you’re alright. And it’s ok to not be ok. It’s not your fault.”

There was a flicker of light, like a shooting star passing across my vision. I swallowed another lump, feeling a bit of warmth from the original tingling sensation.

Hongjoong squeezed my hands, trying to urge warmth into your shivering body. Just the thought of how long you could’ve been freezing made him sick to his stomach. Nonetheless he continued to talk as calmly as he could.

“Just remember that there is someone here for you. I know you don’t always believe that, but it’s true. I am here. Right here.” A single tear rolled down his cheek unwillingly. “I’ll help you pick up the pieces you feel are broken and hold them together for you. I’ll be here to hold you steady when you’re shaking and keep you warm when you’re cold. I’m sorry I was late this time. There’s no telling how long you’ve been here.” Another tear. “But I’m here now baby. I love you.” He squeezed my hands gently once more.

Like a thread, his words formed a silver lining in the dark tunnel. My vision corrupted from pure black, to blurry shapes and images. The feeling of being frozen to my core was slowly warming in the places where his body touched mine. And finally, his beautiful, kind smile. So bright, and such a contrast to the dark space I’d been suffering in. There was a soft ringing that slowly got louder, as I realized his lips were moving. Hongjoong was speaking, yet I could only hear the ringing. Hongjoong saw the way my eyes scanned his face just the smallest bit. His smile grew a bit.

“There you are. It’s ok. Take your time.” He leaned forward, never breaking eye contact as he kissed the back of my hands lovingly.

I squeezed his hands gently, the feeling, or void of feeling, was quickly fading, and in its place a crushing weight on my throat and lungs. My chest heaved at my increased breathing pace, worrying Hongjoong as he realized the anxiety was setting in more than the previous emptiness. Without releasing my hands, he scooted to sit beside me. He let go of one hand to wrap his arm around my shoulder, leaving a gentle kiss on my temple as he whispered sweet nothings.

His voice trickled in like a small river, every other word registering before his kindness fully processed. My beating heart didn’t slow, but it became easier to breathe as I buried my head in the crook of his neck silently. He pulled me closer with one arm, resting his forehead on my hair.

“Do you want to go inside and get under the blankets?” The first full sentence I’d registered in my mind.

I absentmindedly nodded, but before I could attempt to move, Hongjoong was picking me up bridal style, careful like I was an expensive glass or diamond jewelry. Once in our shared bedroom, he placed me on the bed before tossing back the covers and tucking them around me like a child. With a reassuring smile he left the room. Although I knew where he was going, I gripped the covers tightly anxiously waiting for his return.

In a matter of minutes Hongjoong returned with two cups of hot chocolate with small marshmallows, and a pack of hershey’s kisses tucked under his arm too. He set one cup down and offered me the other, which I had to fumble from under the covers to shakily take the cup. The warm liquid felt comforting, with just a splash of caramel the way I loved it. A soft melody played as Hongjoong connected to the bluetooth speaker on the dresser, playing soft instrumentals he had been working on the days prior. Hongjoong climbed into the bed, careful of me and my drink, and opened the chocolates, feeding me one as he grabbed his own drink.

He took the drink gently from me, and pulled a small first aid kit from his pocket, beginning to tend to my wounded fingers. He tried to be as gentle as possible, though I couldn’t stop the involuntary flinching everytime there was direct contact to the broken skin. He continued mumbling soft apologies and comforting words nonetheless. Once he finished wrapping my fingers, he continued with his early motion of serving me my drink and feeding me hershey kisses.

I’m not sure how long we sat like that. Hongjoong rested his head against the headboard, one hand gently playing with strands of my hair, while the other held my own hand. Originally, he had alternated between feeding me chocolates and bringing his now cold drink to his lips. The time on Hongjoong’s phone read 5:52 am. I had long since finished my drink and passed out with my head on his shoulder sometime after 4 I think. Hongjoong hummed softly to the still playing music, like a soothing lullaby. He wanted to make sure I was fully asleep before deciding to move.

Hongjoong gently laid me on the pillow, going to turn off the lamp he’d had on and turning the music down a little more, before crawling back into bed. He cuddled me from behind, his warm chest pressed against my back as he pulled me closer to him in a tight embrace.

“Goodnight my love. Have sweet dreams. When you wake, I’ll be here. I promise. I won’t let you be lonely in the dark if I can help it. I love you. So I hope you use that love as a light. It’s not too late. So don’t give up, ok? We can do this. I love you.”

With a simple kiss to my head, he nuzzled closer, leaving me with floating thoughts.

It’s not too late. I’m not alone.

[just-benni]

Home Early

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky comes home early from a mission to find Y/N in his apartment, making herself comfortable

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst

“Al, what’s wrong baby?” You cooed toward Bucky’s white-furred cat. You’d never seen Alpine in such a depressed state. But it made sense, Bucky had already been away on mission for almost three weeks.

Surprisingly, Alpine allowed you to pet her and didn’t try to bite or claw your hand off. She wasn’t the friendliest of cats towards you, or towards people in general, Bucky included. Overtime, you’ve become immune to her scratches and biting, some scars here and there. You knew that Bucky had a soft spot for the feline.

“Alright then, Al,” you stood, huffing out a breath. “Food is in your bowl if you wanna eat.” Alpine meowed in response as you left the room, as if she were thanking you.

You loved Bucky’s apartment. Just how small yet spacious it was, a perfect fit for him considering he wasn’t someone to keep a clutter of unnecessary things. Bucky had mentioned to you one time that it was easier to live like that. Not getting attached to inanimate objects made it easier for if he ever had to go on the run again. It wasn’t totally likely that he would have to go into hiding again but considering what Bucky had been through already, it was definitely a possibility.

A framed picture set on his dresser came into view. You smiled to yourself, remembering the day the photo was taken. It was the Fourth of July a few years back when you and Bucky weren’t together yet. The team took a trip to Tony’s mansion sized cabin in the mountains to celebrate the American holiday, as well as Steve turning another year older.

The photo came about when Peter was going around, taking pictures to have memories of what a fun weekend it was. It was you and Bucky in the frame, sitting on opposite ends of a cut up tree log, only to be ushered closer by Peter. You, being tipsy, you didn’t object to getting closer to Bucky and wrapped your arm around his shoulders. 

Bucky told you a different story of how the picture came to be. He explained that you weren’t just tipsy, but rather, Tony and Sam had managed to get you full on drunk. When you got up to get another drink, you misstepped and Bucky caught you before you could land face first on the dirt floor. He sat you next to him to keep you steady and he remembered you slurring out words about how warm he was, then the two of you argued that it was the fire keeping you warm, not him. At that point, Peter appeared with his camera and you circled your arm around Buck’s neck like in the picture, displaying a bright smile on your face.

Bucky didn’t oblige so quickly to smile along with you. In fact, the one thing you remember vividly is you having to scold him, “Smile and at least act like you like being next to me.” He of course smiled, though it was more like a grin but you took it for what it was. Peter sent you the picture in the days following and as a gift for Bucky when he moved into his apartment, you printed and framed the photo.

You brushed your finger over the edge of the frame before heading into the bathroom to do a face mask. Bucky would be home any day now and you wanted to do some self-care tasks before he returned, not necessarily for him. You knew Bucky would shower you with compliments no matter how you looked.

You applied the paste-like substance to your face evenly and popped your earbuds in, blasting your music at full volume because why not? The apartment was too quiet for you not think about ghosts or some supernatural thing coming to haunt you, making you miss Bucky even more. He made you feel safe, without a doubt.

You sat out on the balcony furniture, propping your legs up on the railing and laying back against the chair. You either had your eyes closed or looked out at the sunset view. It always reminded you of Bucky. Every so often, he would tell stories about growing up with Steve and all trouble they got into. 

You jumped up when you felt a cold touch to your shoulder. Standing with a jolt, you turned and saw Bucky standing there. “Oh.” You ripped out the earphones from your ears, “What are you doing home?”

“Well unless you know something I don’t, this is my apartment.”

“But you weren’t supposed to be home for hours. It’s too early for you to be home!”

“Got the mission done early.” He smirked, looking at you up and down of your appearance. It wasn’t often that Bucky got the high ground against you. “Is that my shirt?”

You shielded your face from being seen, failing miserably. “I’m gonna go wash this off.”

You try to subtly brush past him but he didn’t let you get very far by wrapping his arm around your waist, and hoisting you from the ground so your back was pressed against his chest. You tried to pry his hands off of you, whimpering when he wouldn’t release you. “What’s wrong doll? I thought you would be happy to see me.”

“Bucky! You cannot see me like this!” You demanded, trying to dig your nails into his flesh arm which had no effect on him. “I look like a scary monster from a horror film!”

“Then you’re by far the most beautiful monster I’ve ever seen,” Bucky turned himself around and set you down so you were back onto the balcony.

“Fine, you wanna play like that?” As quickly as you could, you rubbed your face and swiped some of the cream onto Bucky’s scruffy face. The two of you laughed as Bucky grabbed a hold of your forearms and you squirmed to escape his grasp once again. “You started it, hon.”

“You’re the one at my apartment.” Bucky pinned you against the railing, his face at a close distance from yours.

“You’re gonna get more on your face if you get any closer.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Bucky closed off the space between the two of you. You smiled into the kiss, missing the warmth it brought you. There was a distant meow from behind Bucky, making the two of you separate from the kiss.

“She really missed you.” You commented, watching Alpine stretch before moving towards you both.

“I missed the both of you.” Bucky attempted to wipe your face mask off his skin but there was still some residue left on his cheek.

“So pretty,” you teased, finally getting past Bucky and headed into the bathroom. You heard Bucky in his bedroom, talking to Alpine. You found him sitting at the foot of his bed. You stepped in between his legs, cupping his face with one hand to wipe his face with a damp cloth.

“Will you stay for the night?” He questioned timidly.

“Sure. Are you hungry?”

“Not really. All I want is to sleep.”

“Okay, why don’t you go shower and change into some comfier clothes?”

You backed away to give him space only to be pulled back and settled you to sit at his side. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, what’s up? Is it the mission? Everything go okay? You’re not hurt are you?” You briefly examined him, checking for any cuts, bruises, and especially blood. Fortunately, there was nothing visible to the surface.

“Relax, Y/N. Everything and everyone is fine. The mission went smooth.”

You blushed. “Sorry, what was it you wanted to ask?”

“Just now, I loved the way that I got to come home to you like I did. Today is something I want to have every time I go on a mission.” Bucky paused and you knew there were tons of anxious thoughts going through his head. “So I was maybe thinking we could move in together. You can move here with me.”

“I would need to think about it. But are you sure about this?”

He displayed a soft smile, softening his steel blue eyes. “Trying to talk me out of it?”

“No, no.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Well, I’m not totally opposed to it,” you started, still processing that Bucky had asked you to move in. You were weighing out the pros and cons in your head momentarily. There was so much rummaging in your head, it was hard to give him a definite answer. 

“Y/N.”

“No, yeah, sorry. I’m just thinking.”

Bucky stood abruptly, shifting himself towards the bathroom. “You know what, forget I said anything. I just ruined the whole night.”

“No, stop,” you scolded. “Don’t say that. It’s fine.”

“I’m gonna go take a shower, give you time to think. But it’s alright if you say no, I understand if this is too fast.”

You separated, Bucky into the bathroom and you into the kitchen to make some tea. Alpine followed you, prowling along the marble counter.

“What do you think, Al? Should I move in with you and that moody soldier?” You scratched behind her ear. “You haven’t bitten me yet I’ll assume that’s a yes, or at least not a definite no.”

Not long after, Bucky came and found you in the kitchen, unsure of where the two of you stood.

“Here,” you offered him a mug of warm tea. “To help you sleep.”

He thanked you silently as he took the cup in his hands. It was quiet for a few moments until he spoke up, “I was way in over my head when I asked you. You don’t have to move in. It was stupid of me to ask.”

“So you didn’t mean it when you asked me to move in?”

“Fuck.” Bucky was flustered, unintentionally burning himself when he took a sip of the drink. He set it down to cool, almost forgetting you had asked him a question. “No.”

“No, as in you don’t want me to move in or no you didn’t mean it?”

“I do want you to move in. But you think it’s a bad idea, I get it, it’s fine you don’t want to.” You rolled your eyes. You loved him to death but sometimes men were idiots.

“Will you look at me?” You clasped your hands around his neck, stepping directly in front of him to lock his gaze. Your voice was calm, trying not to further set off Bucky’s nerves. “I never said I didn’t want to move in with you.”

“You didn’t have to,” he started. “If you really wanted to, you would’ve said yes already.”

“You can’t just drop something like that onto me and expect me to have an answer within a few seconds. Moving in together is a really big step in a relationship and I just wanna make sure we play this right. We’re not a regular couple.”

“We can talk about this tomorrow or forget about it altogether, I’m tired.”

“But I don’t wanna forget about it.” You followed close behind Bucky into the bedroom. “This conversation is gonna come up again sooner or later. Please, just let me talk?”

“Fine.” He sat comfortably on the edge of his bed, you taking the seat at his side. 

“You make me very happy. You have for almost two years. I’m actually surprised it’s taken us this long to get to this conversation. And you obviously want this. You’re acting like you don’t and you can’t do that. You deserve to want things for yourself.”

“But is this what you want? It’s not only about what I want.” You turned your head to his, meeting his soft, concerning eyes that made a fluttering go off in your stomach. Even after all these years, he was still able to do that and you wondered how. “Y/N?”

You had your answer. “I’ll move in with you.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes, but one thing first.”

Bucky stood, already in celebration mode by peppering your hand with delicate kisses. With ease, he pulled you to your feet. “What is it, doll? Anything.”

“I’m gonna need a lot of closet space.”

“Baby, I’ll throw all my clothes out the window if that’s what it takes to get you to move in.” The two of you broke out in a fit of laughter, Bucky circling his arms around your shoulders and pressing kisses to your head. You feel Bucky relax into your arms. “I love you.”

“I know.” You press a kiss to his collarbone. “I love you too.”

Bucky stood, offering his hand to you, “Come on now, we have to rest up.”

“Rest for what, old man?”

“Moving your things here, keep up.”

The two of you proceeded to stay in each other’s arms, gently shifting weight from one foot to the other, having little conversation. You could definitely get used to this.

[slashersins-abandoned]

happy birthday

the smell of cake is what woke him . the sound of light clatter filling silence of the house . the clock by the bed read four am . it was early . especially for you . he could just go back to sleep , wait until the sun peaked through the windows for him to fully wake , but the sweet scent of chocolate and sugar only grew the longer he stayed motionless staring at the door . even in his old age , michael could not resist the scent of baked goods . his sweet tooth screaming at him the same way his blood lust did .

he didn’t bother with his mask . right now it wasn’t important . what was happening in the oven was . it didn’t take him long to make it to the kitchen , watching with mild interest , wanting to know what you’d made . wanting to know why . you’d tell him , you wouldn’t have a choice . but for now , the man stood there . silent and observant as you bustled around the kitchen , making a mess of flour and eggs and sugar . he could compare your messiness in the kitchen to his own when he had a more than excitable kill .

it seemed you’d noticed the warpath left behind , the confectionery destruction . and you started to clean up . michael stayed still , like a statue . hidden in plain sight , unseen by you and yet so close . after the few years you’d spent together , your awareness of your surroundings didn’t seem to improve . was both an annoyance and amusement for the man . but right now was one of the times he was annoyed . especially when you took the mixing bowl and spoon , coated in thick batter , and carried it to the sink .

not a moment later michael was behind you , one hand wrapped deadly tight around the wrist holding the bowl , the other plucking the spoon up an out of it to bring it to his lips . all done while pressed against you , leaning over you , trapping you between him and the sink . his intention was to devour the sweet prebaked batter .

he ignored your squeak of shock at his appearance , too busy with the task at hand . but he did hear your laughter . the way you shook your head and called him a greedy old man . he didn’t care at the moment . the only thing that mattered was this cake batter finding a new home in his stomach . he only paused in his mission when he felt your lips against the stubble on his jaw .

“ happy birthday , michael . ” ah . so that is what it was . he’d stopped keeping track years and years ago . it never really mattered much to him anyway . but part of his old , cold heart seemed to warm from your little offering of sweets made just for him .

“ i’ll make all your favorites today . you’re my grumpy old boogeyman , and you deserve it . ” michael wanted to roll his eyes , but it’d be too much effort . so he settled for dropping the now lick cleaned spoon into the sink , taking the bowl from your hand and starting to scrap up what he could with thick fingers . his full focus seemed to be on ‘ cleaning ’ the bowl as he stood a bit away now , cradling it to his chest for better access .

you flushed as you watched him . ever serious in concentration . devouring and sucking and licking on his fingers . you had to look away , to embarrassed by your own thoughts to do anything more than the dishes . michael seemed to notice . his gaze tearing a hole straight into your core . he knew . eating like this , all fingers and mouth and tongue , it did something too you . something just as delicious as a well baked cake . and he loved letting you hang there and suffer in silence . with a pop of his finger out of his mouth and a near , finger scrubbed , clean bowl , michael dropped the bowl into the sink , waitng for you to glance up and catch his eye .

what you saw there was unmistakable . a hunger . a deep gnawing hunger . not for blood . not for the sweet treat currently baking in the over . it was something more dangerous . it was a hunger directed at you . a hunger michael came to know as lust . something that gave him the same sensation that gliding knife into the chest of some screaming victim gave him . so similar and yet so different . both ending with such satisfaction . and seeing how you had reacted to just the simplest of actions of him being close , he knew you felt it too .

you nearly buckle under his stare . the intensity of it . you’re not sure what michael wants . if he’ll leave you hanging like this , or go through with some needy desire . it’s always a mystery with michael . and god if that mystery doesn’t keep you wrapped up in suspense . it’s hard to maintain eye contact , each time you look back at the older man he seems to be staring harder . you can’t take it , and bite your lip , looking anywhere but his eyes .

“ you - you have some uh , some batter on your cheek . here , i’ll - ” it’s a bold move , but it also helps you understand what michael’s attentions are . if he lets you touch him , then he might be in the mood to do more . if he grabs you or pulls away , you might have crossed a line and that never ends well . surprisingly , michael only tilts his head downward so you can better reach . eyes boring holes into your soul as you gently wipe the brownie mix away with your thumb .

you make another surprised yelp when his strong fingers grip your wrist , refusing to let go and unmovable . you open your mouth to apologize only for it to die on your lips when the older man pops your thumb into his mouth and licks the mix off .

he doesn’t release your hand , instead choosing to keep it in place between the two of you as he walks you back towards the sink . there is still plenty of thick , sticky brownie mix in the bowl , and michael has just discovered it tastes better when it’s mixed the salt of your skin .

you have little choice , not that you were ever good at resisting michael , as he takes a knife and cuts through your shirt , ruining the fabric before stabbing the knife harshly into the cabinet by your head . his free fingers move to scoop the sweet mix from the bowl , painting your neck and collarbones with it . you want to squirm and snap and tell him to stop . it’s sticky and gross and now you need a shower , but then his mouth is on you . the roughness of his beard tickling your skin .

the mouths at you . licking and spreading the mess around before sucking harshly , hard enough to leave marks as his teeth dig into you , making sure to clean you . you can’t stop the moan that leaves you , the way your legs start to shake and thighs rub together . your free hand fists into his shirt , holding onto him as you pant at the roughness of it all .

“ mi - michael ! s - stop , we - we - i know it’s your birthday but maybe - ” there’s no arguing with him as michael forces a knee between his thighs . he may be older , but he wants , and it’s obvious how much he wants when he rocks his hips so hard into you that you make a pained noise when the counter cuts into your hip at the force of it . the feeling of him , hard and hot through his thin pajama bottoms making you whine . “ okay . okay . i’ll - yes . michael , just - ”

there’s no waiting when he swiftly turns you around , the fact he is still so strong after so many years making your head spin in a delightful way . the knife is pulled from the cabinet , leaving a splintered gash in the wood .  you feel the cold metal of the blade against your thigh . slowly and practiced as he pushes it under your shorts and then tugs , cutting through fabric and leaving you bare before him . the knife if returned to it’s previous place , michael pressing in to rub his thigh against your bare sex .

you can’t help but moan , leaning forward as you wrap your arms around michael’s neck , fingers buried in his short grey hair . you haven’t gotten permission to move , but your hips rock on their own . and it seems that michael is fine with it , staying still and forcing you to do all the work , making you work yourself up into a needy mewling mess on his thigh .

but michael is needy , and starved , and enough is enough . he wants you . and you were right . it is his birthday . so why not take what he wants . you already said he deserves it , didn’t you ?

fingers still wet with saliva and sticky , michael pressed against your entrance . you panted and squirmed in his hold , you wanted him to press inside , to stretch you open before ramming himself inside of you , but he wouldn’t move . he only gave you a blank look . he wanted you to fuck yourself on those his fingers . he wanted you to show him just how eager you were to please him . and god , if that didn’t make you moan as you rocked your hips , trying to sink down and take what you could .

it’s hard to keep rocking , and michael keeps so still , only his even breathing keeping you company as he watched you come undone . it’s your plea , michael’s name falling from your lips so sweetly , so needy , that has the older man pulling away only to get out his length and line his tip up . he doesn’t wait , as soon as he brushes against you he’s shoving in . fast and harsh , only to stop and savor the way your walls spasm at the sudden intrusion . at how your eyes scrunch up and your mouth opens into a silent scream .

he stays still inside of you , and you think this might have been the nicest michael has ever been as you adjust to him . but that thought flies out the window when he pulls nearly all the way out only to swiftly thrust back in . there’s no holding back . it’s his birthday after all . and he wants to ruin you . he wants to thank you for the treat currently baking in the oven , this is the only way he can truly show you .

his hands grip your hips harshly , nails digging into the soft flesh there . his mouth goes back to attacking your neck and shoulder , leaving near bloody marks in their wake . he’s panting , gritting his teeth to keep back the growls that threaten to spill out . the way you squeeze around him , the sobbed out moans that leave your lips and fill the air , the way you cling and whimper michael’s name like he was some deity you were praying to - all of it had him fucking you harder , faster .

you don’t last long . the stretch of michael and his break neck pace has you pushed over the edge faster than you’d hoped , but that predatory gaze in his eyes was just too much when mixed with his animalistic rutting . you can only cling to him , vision foggy and eyes watering as he keeps using you like a glorified cock sleeve . and finally , after michael has pushed you into a second overstimulated orgasm , he cums .

he hovers over you , his chest heaving shoulder’s tense as he looks down at you . soon his hands leave your hips and he backs away , only to look at the oven and then back at you . you’re not sure what he is trying to tell you , too busy trying to stand up on legs made of jelly and a sweet soreness between your thighs . but then the timer goes off .

you want to laugh , but doing so might upset michael , or worse might make you fall on the floor and laugh more , and you don’t want to burn your boogeyman’s cake . somehow you wobble over , taking the cake out and setting it on the table . you know michael doesn’t give a shit about frosting , and he doesn’t have the patience to let the treat cool . but you do have time to stick the birthday candles on .

you steal a kiss , going to sit in a chair when michael pulls you into your lap as you pass by . you smile at him , leaning in a kissing his bearded cheek when he takes his first bite . “ happy 63rd birthday , mr boogeyman . ”

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Lost Boys: Promised Prize

Dwayne x Reader

Word Count: 1,768

Summary: After final exams are over, Dwayne makes good on the reward that you guys worked out. 

A siren blared as a police car zoomed by your building, waking you from your impromptu sleep. Where the sun had previously forced its way through the gaps in the blinds, nocturnal darkness had completely taken over and doused everything in shadow. You stretched leisurely on top of the sheets, giving your eyes time to adjust as shapes blurred into focus.

Propping yourself up on your forearms you reached for your alarm clock, the glowing red numbers flashing 10:14 pm.

Well then.

It appeared that you had literally slept half of the day away and then some. You blamed it on your body’s post-finals bid to finally catch up on the sleep that you had been depriving yourself of for the past two weeks.

You also hadn’t seen much of your boyfriend during that period, although that wasn’t by your choice. When he found out how busy you were with finals prep he basically disappeared which was his way of giving you space so you could be productive. He didn’t even talk with you about it, he just straight up stopped coming to your apartment. 

It was a good thing you knew him as well as you did otherwise you might’ve taken his ghosting to mean something else entirely and you told him as much when you finally saw him over the weekend.  

You went down the hall, switching on lights as you walked by on your way to the kitchen. A cool glass of water from the fridge always hit the spot after waking up. The water was extremely refreshing and several large gulps followed the first.

You took the water bottle with you so you could continue sipping from it while you went outside to get your mail. The small metal door creaked open and you juggled everything in your hands you flipped through the stack of envelops and inserts.

Junk. Pizza coupon. Bill. Bill—oh! Something from the college!

Unable to wait until you were inside, you tore open the envelope with shaky fingers. The paper unfolded and you scanned over the typed font with nervous determination.

You lowered the grade report in shock. Did you read that correctly?

You held it up again and, sure enough, the verdict was the same—you aced all of your final exams! And in doing that, your semester grade point average was high enough to make the Dean’s list.

The whole apartment complex was treated to your victorious banshee yell as it echoed off the concrete and glass of the apartment complex. Even some of the wildlife scattered.

High with endorphins, you scurried back to your apartment, laying the paper smack dab on the center of the kitchen table. There was another person who needed to see it as well.

The sun had been set for a few hours, plenty of time to find a first meal of the night, which meant that he would be dropping by at any time.

You found it impossible to sit since you were still feeling the excitement so rather than sit around and wait for him, you decided to channel the energy into something productive.

Cabinet doors were opened and closed as you took out different ingredients that were all thrown into a mixing bowl and kneaded together with your bare hands. Some of the mix stuck under your fingernails but you were more than happy to suck it off your fingers.

Separating the tan dough into small balls you carefully placed them on a cookie sheet and stuck it into the oven. Ten minutes later and they were out, cooling on the counter.

Dwayne still hadn’t arrived even after your cookie quest. You blew a couple of strands of hair away from your face. Time to do some dishes.

You slipped a Ratt cassette into your boombox, cranked it, and got to scrubbing. In the middle of cleaning the tines on a fork, you heard him enter.

He was bent over, taking off his shoes when you met him by the door.

He stood up and leaned in for a sweet kiss, but you stopped him to wipe some stray blood droplets off of his lips before you allowed it.

“Come on, there’s something I wanna show you,” you insisted, pulling him to the kitchen.

He sniffed the air.

“Peanut butter?” he asked hopefully.

“Yep. Sit down and I’ll bring you some.”

He sat down obediently and you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist reading the only readable thing in front of him. While you took your time with the cookies, you watched him out of the corner of your eye and saw the exact moment he took the bait.

He slid the paper closer with his pointer finger and read it silently. Even when he faced you there was no discernable reaction that most people would’ve noticed, however, you weren’t most people. The warmth in his brown eyes and the slight softening of his mouth were very clear to you.

“I aced everything,” you boasted, setting the plate pile of cookies in front of him.

“And the Dean’s list,” he added.

You were touched that he remembered that bit and gently scratched his scalp which had him rolling his head in a feline manner. “That means I get my reward too.”

He reached out and stroked the outer rim of your ear. “A promise is a promise. Wanna do it now?”

Back when you were stressing out all the tests and essays, and before Dwayne ghosted, he promised to give you a gift to keep you motivated. Anything you wanted. You told him you wanted a piercing done midway up your ear after seeing some people at school with them and he promised to do it for you.

You swiftly nodded. You really wanted the piercing.

Without another word, he shoved two peanut butter cookies into his mouth for safekeeping and tugged his shoes on. For being as old as he was, his inner child was always near the surface and you loved that about him. Most of the time.

“Heathen,” you razzed as you playfully hip checked him out of the way so you could grab your silver boots.

Opting not to retaliate, he merely winked and ushered you out the door, cookies still in his mouth.

The drive to the cave was short and uneventful. A benefit to the apartment being closer to the bluffs than it was the pier or the boardwalk. Dwayne expertly guided you down the rickety, wooden stairs and to the mouth of the cave.

Earlier in the relationship he always offered to fly you down so you didn’t have to use the stairs, but he respected the decision to do it yourself unless you were too tired or tipsy, in which case he made the final decision.

He prowled around the cave, grabbing supplied from seemingly random spots. “Do you still want it on the cartilage?”

You told him yes and sat on the cool edge of the fountain, noting how quiet it was with just the two of you here.

“What’s the rest of the crew up to?”

“I left the boys on the beach and Star wanted some more stuff for her bed. It’s not even midnight so they’ll be gone for a while yet.”

“I need to hang out with her more now that classes are done for now,” you said resting your chin on the tops of your knees.

“She’d appreciate any company that isn’t us at this point.”

You remembered the blood he had on his lips earlier. And the crumbs he left on them after eating the cookies. “I can’t imagine why...”

He plopped down next to you on the fountain and spread everything out, handing you a box full of earrings so you could pick one out.

“Fingers crossed you guys didn’t rip these off of your meals.”

Dwayne chose not to say anything, preferring to watch your squirm at the thought.

You did have to admit that there was quite a nice selection to pick from, no matter the source. There were shiny studs, pieces with all manner of materials dangling from them, and delicate hoops both decorated and plain. But a small, snug silver hoop with a pearl-colored sphere attached caught your interest.

Dwayne noticed and started rubbing your ear with alcohol to disinfect the area. Then he held the piercing needle over a small candle flame to sterilize it. Star had taught them a lot about piercing procedure and etiquette; not wanting to jeopardize your mortal health, he put her words to use.

Needle ready, he swung around with one of his legs resting in your lap.

“For grabbing onto if it hurts,” he offered and you settled your hands onto his jean-clad thigh. The needle was poised against the cartilage midway up your ear and you couldn’t help it when your heartrate sped up. 

The last time you had your ears pierced you were a little kid and you couldn’t remember the pain. You hoped this new one wouldn’t be too unbearable.

He nudged you gently to see if you were good to continue.

“I’m good. And you’d better not hit a nerve and paralyze me cause then I’ll have to beat you up.”

Were there any nerves to hit in that part of your ear? You weren’t sure but it came out of your mouth last minute.

“Good luck punching if you’re paralyzed,” he smirked punching the needle through the flesh as he spoke. He had a bottle cork pressed on the back of your ear so that the needle didn’t stab into your neck when it came out on the other side.

Your lids slammed shut and your finger nails dug into his leg. It wasn’t the worst you could imagine but it was still a sharp, noticeable pain.

Dwayne was quick with it removing the needle and dropping the cork in order to work the earring through the freshly made hole. He clicked the earring closed and gave the area one last wipe down with a water soaked q-tip.

“Well? How do I look?” You were impatient and he wasn’t moving fast enough for you. 

He held up a mirror so you could see it. You weren’t sure how he conjured it since none of the vamps in the cave used them, but you were more interested in seeing at your ear at the moment.

You gasped as you turned this way and that to admire it.

“I love it, Dwayne!” You peppered him with kisses.

Dwayne looked at you with evident pride. Pride in your smartness, pride in how you handled the pain, pride in the way the piercing turned out.

Beautiful, he thought.

_______________

Congrats to everyone that’s finished with finals and good luck to those who are still working through exams. Thanks so much for reading! 

[eternalstann]

Quarantine

You and your best friend Tom spend some quarantine time together, and it isn’t exactly what you expected...

Warnings: fluff, angst??, smut ;)

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Normally you missed Tom, since he was always on the go. But since this ‘quarantine’ began, the two of you had been in the house together for 6 days straight. Tuwaine, Harrison and Harry had come over for a bit, but decided to be with their families instead. Harry claiming Sam missed him. You had almost begged him to stay, but he assured you you’d be fine with Tom. And you were, at first. Slowly you began to notice all his annoying habits.

Like leaving the toilet seat up, or his dishes all over the house. Albeit it was his house, but still.

You’d woken up on day 7 feeling sluggish even though you’d done absolutely nothing but sleep and lie around for the last week. You leave the guest room you’d been staying in and make your way to kitchen. Tom must’ve been still asleep. You pull out a bowl to make yourself some cereal and tea, deciding to make a cup for Tom too when he wakes up. You scroll through your phone while you eat, pausing when a FaceTime comes in from Harry.

“Y/N!” He called cheerily through the phone. And you smile, “Hey, what’s up!” You respond. “Nothing just seeing how things were over there, miss you already” he spoke and you grin. “It’s fine, I miss you too” you listen to the chaos in the background, so different to the near silence where you were. Tom was one of your closest friends, and you loved him dearly but things were off. You just summed it up to all the craziness going on in the world. It was more than enough to put anyone in a mood.

You and Harry chat for a while longer until you hear a door slam. “He’s risen” you laugh, you hear his footsteps getting closer. “I’ll talk to you later Harry” you smile but Tom walks in with a frown. “No, no - don’t let me interrupt your love connection” he grumbles and your eyebrows go up to your hairline. “What?” You and Harry both exclaim at the same time, “Jinx!” You do it again before bursting out with laughter. Tom rolls his eyes about to walk out, “Wait, I made you some tea!” You offer and he takes it without so much as a thank you and goes to sit on the couch.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed” Harry jokes and you shake your head before hanging up. You take a deep breath before approaching your solemn friend. “Goodmorning!” You chirp, plopping down on the couch next to him. He glances at you, then turns back to the T.V. “You know, if you’d rather be with Harry you’re more then welcome to go” he tells you and you feel a pang in your chest at his sharp words. Was he serious? You do your best to brush it off, “Tom what’s the matter? You’re not acting like yourself.” You sigh inching closer to him.

“I’m not acting like myself? You’re the one fawning over Harry like he’s gods gift to this earth. And he’s eating that shit right up. When this all went down, I was looking forward to spending time with you...I missed you. But I see now you were - are, fine without me” his voice is low and you’re in shock. You can’t believe he thinks you like Harry. You almost want to laugh. Harry was your friend...but he was the one you were crushing on. “Tom, I promise you there is nothing between me and Harry. We’re just friends, and we wouldn’t even be friends if it weren’t for you!” You explain.

“Better friends than you and I?” He asks, eyes looking at yours now. You and Harry had shared laughs; but Tom? Tom has been there for you through everything. And you for him. “Nobody’s better friends then you and I” you assure him. You watch the way his face relaxes. “I don’t know..it’s just when I’m away I feel like I’m missing so much. I came home, so excited to see you but then I saw all your inside jokes with Harry and your handshake with Tuwaine. I felt like I was losing you. I’m not gonna lie...I miss when you were just my best friend.” He laughs a little at the end, and now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Yeah well I’ve always had to share you!” You remind him and he nods. “I know. I guess I was just..jealous?” He squints and you bite your lip.

He was jealous? Do people get jealous of ‘friends’? Does this mean he feels for you as more than a friend?! Your mind is racing now and your heart feels like it might jump out your chest. “Well you could never lose me Tom, you’re my best friend. And I love you” you hug him. “I love you too Y/N”

You pull away, tired of all the moody somberness and glance towards the fridge. “Fuck this tea, lets get drunk” you smirk and Tom laughs. “This is why you’re my best friend”

—

You’re on your fourth...you think?? Cup of wine. Tom’s standing across from you, face red from the alcohol. He’s still holding his beer in his hand as he explains the stunt to you. “Just run at me, I’m gonna grab your hips and flip you over and onto the couch” he explains.

“Tom I swear if you drop me!” You giggle before running towards him at full speed. He lunges towards you and when you’re close enough his fingers wrap around your waist and hoist you up. You squeal as he tosses you on the couch, and Tom cheers before jumping over so he’s on top of you.

You’re breathing heavily, a giant smile on your face as you stare up at the brown haired boy. His eyes sparkle with something you’ve never seen before. A happy, goofy look on his face. “I love you Y/N” he says in between pants. His gaze makes your face hot and you blink; “I love you too Tom” you tell him again. “No- Y/N I’m in love with you” You’re eyes go wide at his confession. “Shit, I’m sorry. God, I shouldn’t have-“ you cut off your stuttering best friend with a kiss. But the word kiss didn’t do it justice.

Your eyes close the moment your lips meet. You feel him relax, body sinking into yours; his weight on top of you. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. “Tom..” you murmur and he hums, lips traveling from you jaw to your neck. You feel like you’re in a dream. Toms hand creeps up your chest and shoves down your tank top to expose your breasts and you gasp when his tongue licks your nipple. He circles the hard bud, his fingers tweaking the other one. You arch into his touch, hips subconsciously grinding against him. “Tom; please..” you wine. You don’t even know what you were asking him for but you’d take whatever he’d give you.

“I got you” his voice rumbles from his chest, hand leaving your nipple to toy with the waistband of your shorts. “Can I?” He asks, eyes searching yours. You nod, craning your neck to kiss him again. “You smell good” you compliment and he just smiles.

“Thank you” and then his hand is beneath the fabric that had separated you. His finger trailing between your lips before finding the sensitive bud that has you moaning his name. “That’s it baby..” he encourages you. Your nails dig into his back while he works on you. “Fuck..I’m gonna cum Tom” you call out. His hand slides down so his fingers can pump into you, his palm pressed to your clit with every movement. You shake as you reach your peak, cumming on Toms strong hand. He keeps going while you ride out your high, watching you writhe beneath him. You sit up to look at the man in front of you and he smirks while he licks his fingers. You always knew Tom was a freak.

“Lay back” you instruct, pushing your shorts off and Tom does as you say, kicking off his sweats. “You can get rid of those too” you tell him, pointing to his boxers. “Straight shooter, I like that” and you roll your eyes. “You’re so funny Tom, anyone ever tell you that you should be a comedian” you whisper in a sultry voice, straddling him. “Yeah all the ti-oh fuck!” His voice cracks when you sink onto him.

“Oh shit, Tom!” You moan, feeling all of him when you’re fully seated. Tom can’t help but stare at you, tits out and head thrown back. And you were like that because of the pleasure he was giving you..he could’ve cum right then. You plant your legs and bounce on the brunette, watching his jaw go slack. You lean forwards, hands resting in the middle of his chest to balance yourself so you can go even faster. You want to watch Tom but your eyes fall shut from the way his thick cock felt inside of you. “Fuck; Tom..cum for me baby” you groan feeling yourself getting close again.

“Y/N...” he calls your name, hand reaching up behind you to tug on your hair. Your walls clench around him when he pulls and that’s it for Tom. His groans are like music to your ears when he orgasms. You grind against him a few more times before reaching your own peak and falling against him.

Tom tilts his head to look down at you, a lazy smile on his face; “I just got some quarantitties”

——————

I was really tempted to name this quarantitties 😂, I hope you enjoyed! I hope you all are well and pleaseeeeee send me some prompts I’m bored out of my mind!!

[angstyaches]

Somewhere to Go

Continued from this fic. 

(Added a cut because she’s a little long.)

CW: stress, spiralling whumpee, nausea, emeto, crying, mention of trauma/abuse (very vague), mention of disordered eating/food issues

___

Charlie’s nerves were making his limbs go numb, and he fumbled with the hangers as he lopped them onto the rack between the fitting rooms. He had his teeth clamped around his thumb nail as he paced around the corner. He took a quick glance out into the shop before turning his head towards the ladies’ rooms.

“Rin?” he called out, shifting his feet uneasily. “Are you still in there?”

“Uh-huh, sorry.” A curtain swooped open and Rin stumbled out, still wriggling her foot into her boot, dragging her shoulder bag on the floor. Her eyes were wide as she finally straightened up in front of Charlie. She seemed to have abandoned the items she’d been trying on in the fitting room.

“Sorry,” she sighed, flinging some dark-red hair over her shoulder. She pressed her hands to her face then, shaking her head violently from side to side. “What did I do, Charlie, what the hell did I do?”

“No, no, no, Rin, it’s okay,” Charlie assured her. “It’s just the - the food thing, I think. It doesn’t usually set him off that easily, but...”

“Oh, god.” Rin groaned and stared off past the racks of clothes, her eyes widening again like she was gazing into an endless abyss. “What do we do?”

“Fuck, I don’t – I don’t know.” Charlie scrubbed his fingers through his hair as they started to walk. The shopping centre seemed louder and even more sprawling than it had before they’d gone into that last store. “He - he doesn’t know this place, and neither do I, so I don’t know where he’d go. I don’t know where to start.”

“Okay, so, we’ll just split up and find him.” Rin squeezed his elbow. “You start on this floor and work up. I’ll start downstairs.”

___

“Uh… Hello?” Charlie’s voice was low and awkward, yet unmistakable, as it echoed lightly against the tiled walls; tentative, like it wasn’t the first bathroom he’d called into.

Shayne tucked his head further between his knees and held himself tightly. He had one arm wrapped around his ribs, as though that would stop his body from shaking with sobs. The other hand was pressed to his stomach, trying to suppress the ache that was spreading through his insides.

Fuck, he thought at the sound of soft footsteps. Maybe Charlie wouldn’t spot him from under the stall door… Or maybe this plan wasn’t as fool-proof as he’d originally thought.

He watched as the light-blue Converse trainers came into view, slowing by his stall before coming to a stop. The tops of the rubber soles were worn from Charlie’s nervous habit of bouncing his toes against floors and walls.

The sensation of being found curdled in Shayne’s veins, and he had to very deliberately remind himself that he was still safe. In this moment, he was safe. Gulping back tears, he forced himself to clear his throat. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Charlie said back through the door. His breath sounded a little heavy. “We’ve been running all over, looking for you.”

“Sorry,” Shayne mumbled.

“Are you okay?” Charlie pleaded softly. He paused for a moment. “Is your stomach bothering you?”

“Mmm.” Shayne swallowed and pressed his face to his raised knees. His stomach had been in knots for days, but it had seemed like the least of his problems, and certainly not worth mentioning. “Kind of.”

“Kind of?” Charlie repeated. “Shayne, I know you, and I know you don’t start crying over kind of. What’s going on?”

Shayne swallowed again, this time shaking his head slightly, despite the fact that Charlie couldn’t see him doing it. Nobody had ever known him the way Charlie did, and there was a cold lump of fear settled under the dread in his chest that told him that nobody ever would again. The weight of his existence fell upon Charlie, and once Charlie was gone, he’d be back to being a tool with a purpose, a ghost with a flimsy, earthly shell that was only good for –

“Please open the door,” Charlie said softly. “We need to go and find Rin. She’s really, she’s – she’s really upset about what she said to you.”

Shayne winced, jaw tightening with a sharp sting. “She didn’t, I – it wasn’t her. It – it was…”

You know we’ll find you, had been the last thing Watson had ever said to him. And Shayne agreed with him, because even at the time, he had known it was true. It was a matter of time before he’d go back to that house, to those people, to that life that he was bound to –

“Shayne?”

This is what you are –

Shayne’s stomach flipped, making his throat clench and his hands shake even more horribly as he fumbled with the lid of the toilet. He’d barely managed to lurch onto his knees before a cold, sticky stream of bright-pink liquid gushed out of his mouth. His throat made a soft choking sound, and the whole ordeal might have been quiet, if it weren’t for the splash.

“Did you just get sick?”

“Um… Maybe.” Shayne hiccupped before retching again, this time unproductively. His jaw was clenched with the sobs that were wracking his body, while his lips were simultaneously being forced open by the nausea.

A low groan of sympathy came through the door. “Shayne, please undo the lock.”

After spitting sour, stringy saliva into the pink mess that had already destroyed the bowl, Shayne shook his head. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, wincing as something between a sob and a burp lurched up his throat. “Go and – go and find Rin. Tell her I’m fine and I’m s–”

Another wave of the smoothie he and Charlie had shared that morning came gurgling up his throat and into the toilet, followed by a weak cough as his diaphragm spasmed with pain.

“You want me to tell Rin you’re fine, while you’re – you’re crying and throwing up?” There was no anger in Charlie’s voice, just a sad kind of resignation. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m just gonna call her and tell her I found you.”

Shayne rested an arm across the toilet seat and tucked his head into his elbow, shivering and choking back sobs as he heard Charlie lower his voice for the phone. He always lowered his voice for the phone, no matter who was speaking to or where he was. Shayne was glad he couldn’t hear Rin on the other end because he could imagine her worry clearly enough in his head. He needed to get it together for her sake, but there was no shoving the anxious thoughts away now that he’d let them creep in.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t – don’t worry. I’ve got him,” Charlie was saying. “Bathroom on the second floor, we’re – yeah, no, we’ll meet you in a few minutes and we’ll – Rin? Shit. Um… Hey, how are you doing in there, lovely?”

The jittery energy in Shayne’s body reeled at the sound of the pet name. He lifted his head and moved his arm, stars dotting his vision. The remnants of the smoothie crawled up and out of him, with another sickening splash that made his stomach immediately flip again.

“Shayne, please,” Charlie whimpered. There was a slight thump and a rattle, like he’d leaned his weight against the door. “Please, please, tell me what’s going on, or at least just – just let me be with you…”

The sharp spike of panic in Charlie’s voice made Shayne’s breath hitch. Fuck. His head was spinning, and he was shaking from the sobs and the nausea, but he managed to turn and slip the lock aside.

“Thank you.”

“Mmhmm.” Shayne’s stomach twisted and he lurched back over the toilet bowl, gagging drily. A grateful wince escaped him when he felt Charlie lay a hand on his back, waiting in silence for him to be finished. Charlie’s hand felt its way around Shayne’s waist after a moment, smoothing back and forth across his stomach.

Footsteps entered the bathroom a few minutes later, and they weren’t the first to come in while he’d been in there. Most people had come in, done their business, and left, as far as Shayne knew, but he expected to hear this person leave once they realised someone was violently puking in the end stall.

Or not.

“Shayne? Charlie Bear?” Rin. In the men’s bathroom.

“Rin, what are you –?” Charlie cut himself off with a deep sigh. “You know what? Never mind.”

“Babe, are you okay?” Rin whimpered, her voice alone betraying the fact that she’d been crying a bit too. She’d been so happy earlier, full of light and jokes and smiles. And now she was crying, and it was his fault. “I was - I didn’t mean to say anything to upset you, I - I really hope you know that.”

Shayne gasped, tears falling on the toilet seat from his chin and his eyes. He sank back shakily against the wall. He’d started clinging to Charlie’s hand at some point, keeping him close.

Rin was crouched right behind Charlie, her hand on his shoulder as she peered over it. Behind the wide lenses of her glasses, her eyes were swimming with tears and her eyebrows were furrowed tightly together. As he looked down, he noticed that the nail of her thumb was pressing into the pad of her forefinger.

“Sorry, Rin,” Shayne choked out, looking down at the tiled floor. “This – this isn’t y-your fault.”

“I know. I-I know, Shayne, it’s okay, but I’m still…” Rin shook her head. “I’m still sorry that I upset you, and that we – we didn’t notice something was wrong…”

Charlie nodded. His eyes were glistening as he leaned in to search Shayne’s face. “What’s… what’s going on? Are you just worried about the offers tomorrow?”

Shayne’s jaw trembled as he shook his head. Nausea crawled at the back of his throat, and he hugged his belly to try to muffle the uncomfortable gurgling. 

Charlie brushed a thumb across Shayne’s cheek, clearing away a tear that had been creeping slowly downward. “What’s going on, lovely?”

“I-I’m, um…” Shayne struggled to form a sentence as his lips parted. He just wanted it out of him, he wanted it fixed; though he had a feeling the latter wasn’t going to be possible. “If… If I d-don’t get an offer tomorrow, I’m… I think I’ll have to go – to go back to – to…” He swallowed, the motion igniting the pain in his throat and his jaw. “To them.”

“What?” Charlie whispered.

Rin scoffed in disbelief, horror washing over her face. Having both of them look at him with those expressions made Shayne’s gut churn.

“Babe,” Rin breathed, “what are you talking about?”

“Ryan and Nancy, they – they said they’ll help me through – throughout my education, but if I’m n-not in education anymore, I – I have nowhere else to…” Shayne wheezed, feeling like something had wrapped itself around his ribs and started to squeeze. “Nowhere else to go.”

“You know that’s not true,” Charlie said quietly, squeezing Shayne’s hand. “Come on, let’s get you out of the stall.”

Shayne dutifully squeezed back, allowing himself to be pulled up from the floor as Charlie and Rin stood up too. He swayed until he held onto Charlie’s shoulder and followed him out into the bathroom, which suddenly felt vast and dizzyingly white.

A father and a son were making their way from the stalls to the sinks, and the kid kept looking back towards them, either bewildered by the red-haired girl in the men’s bathroom or the guy bawling his eyes out. Shayne shrank back from their gaze, fingers still looped lightly with Charlie’s.

“Shayne, babe…” Rin was shaking her head, somehow paying no attention to the man and the boy. “Why didn’t you tell us about this sooner?”

Shayne shrugged helplessly. “What would you have said? Would you have told me everything’s going to be okay?”

Rin bit her lip and glanced at the floor. Charlie sighed quietly, like a balloon deflating, as Shayne took his hand back.

“Because you don’t know that’s it’s going to be okay,” Shayne whimpered, pressing his wrists against his eyes. “You don’t –”

Suddenly he was taking a step back under the force of Rin’s body, stiffening as her arms pulled tightly around his back. The only thing he could think of, to fight off the instinct to kick and scream, was to hug her back, squeezing her just as hard as she was squeezing him. The pressure didn’t do his stomach any favours as it twisted inside him, but as soon as his arms were locked around her, it was like something solid had just come loose in his chest.

Fuck, he just couldn’t stop crying; it felt like he was never going to be finished, like he would just keep going until his body dried up and his organs failed.

“Babe, if the – if the Aldridges throw you out because of this?” Rin whispered, voice hitching. “Then they’re horrible people and you don’t need them.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Charlie ran his fingers through Shayne’s hair, prompting him to turn his head slightly, cheek pressed against Rin’s loose hair. Shayne closed his eyes and exhaled shakily as Charlie cupped the back of his head, grip tightening. “And if the Devines want you back, they’ll have to pry you out of my cold, dead hands.”

Shayne swallowed, opening his eyes in time to see the shadowy traces of Charlie Two’s stare retreating into the whites of Charlie One’s eyes.

“I mean that,” Charlie whispered in his usual register.

Rin rubbed Shayne’s back and nodded her head in agreement.

Charlie half-smiled as he curled a strand of Shayne’s hair behind his ear. “How about we all get out of here, head back to Mulberry for the night, and camp out in front of the TV? We can stop and get Chinese on the way.”

Shayne tried not to groan at the mention of food, feeling a dull ache settle in his stomach again. He wasn’t exactly going to keep complaining about his friends’ need to eat; besides, the thought of curling up with his friends at the Mulberry house almost had him crying again, this time with relief.

“I’m not sure how much sleep any of us are going to get tonight,” Charlie added, “so we might as well all be together, right?”

As Rin began to agree, Shayne felt himself being slowly guided out of the bathroom. He reached for Charlie’s hand again, both in an attempt to ward off any dizzy stumbling, and to remind himself that he could. 

Charlie wordlessly stroked Shayne’s wrist with his thumb, and despite the lingering nausea and the dread that still hung over him like a storm cloud, Shayne felt his stomach flutter.

[vesuvian-american-fics]

better with time. Ch 14

change your mind.

Your future with the scouts is decided, along with new duties! (AO3)

Words: 2,390

You sighed shakily on the other side of the doors, three curious cadets eyeing you over.

“Let's get back to work guys.” You said, and without another word the four of you were sweeping, dusting, and mopping in silence. Just as you were wrapping up in the kitchen, Erwin appeared in the doorway asking for you. Jean pointed in the direction of the kitchen doors as you were pulling them open.

Your brows raised in question but Erwin’s character wouldn’t allow him to answer you just yet, instead he simply opened the canteen door wider prompting you to step through and follow him down the hall. The silence was heavy, the only noise being your collective footfalls. Erwin turned his head in your direction, smiling down at you.

“I heard about your experience from the other day, how are you feeling?” He waited patiently for your response, watching the way you were sputtering trying to quickly get your words out.

“I-I’m okay now, glad to be up and about cleaning for once. Heh.” You chuckled awkwardly, his face remained unchanging.

“Glad to hear it. Step into my office.” With that he opened his heavy office door, and inside Levi and Hange were still present, the latter turning in their chair to face you.

“Ohh, Y/N!” They said, pleased with your appearance.

“Don’t act so surprised Four Eyes, we’ve only been talking about what to do with her for the last three hours.” Levi grunted, a tired look to his eyes. They flicked in your direction for only a moment before watching as Erwin took his seat behind his desk.

“So, let’s get to the point, shall we? Y/N we’ll continue our research of course, only this time Eren Jeager will be attending. We’ll use what we know about him to help you tap into whatever titan abilities you may have. There are many things we need to test for, you see, Hange if you will.” Erwin prompted. Hange turned to where you sat flipping through their notes to explain what they all know about titans from previous work with Eren and experience outside the walls.

“First, we tested to see if you could transform. That’s still up in the air, with that comes healing and regeneration...” Hange paused to gage your reaction, you looked puzzled.

“Regeneration? What do you mean?”

“Think of it like this, brat... If I cut off your arm now, will it grow back tomorrow?” Levi questioned, his tone seemed threatening but you couldn’t tell if you should actually be worried or not. You swallowed loudly, your hand coming to rub comfortingly against your forearm.

“E-eh! But no worries Y/N! That won’t happen! We do have to test it but we won't take any limbs, or even any phalanges!! Just a cut to your palm to see how fast you heal, titans and shifters heal much faster than normal humans from what we’ve seen.” They continued to explain, you masked your nausea with forced determination.

They need to know, and the more they know the quicker this can be over. Not that you know what will happen to you after all of this.

“And if you can shift, can you move during the nighttime, because most cannot. How did you manage to regain your humanity? Are there others like you? Can you communicate with them? These are things we need to know.” Erwin added, his blue eyes floating over your face, taking in your features. Visibly scared and reluctant, a storm in your eyes.

"Basically, if you're of any use or are you worthless." Levi added flatly.

“But the good news is, we’re still the only ones that know about you. You’re safe here, Y/N. We’re not planning on letting anyone know of your existence until we know wall that there is to know. The others can be...” Erwin searched for the word in his mind before Levi cut in.

“Idiotic? Useless? Dimwitted? They wanted to cut the other brat open when they found out about him.” Levi said, crossing on leg over the other.

“The others?” You asked, your lips were parted in astonishment. Cut him open?

“The military police and the church.” He replied matter of factly, noting your bewilderment.

“Thats exactly why we want to keep things under wraps before they catch word. They don’t have experience with titans so their fear takes hold and they become irrational. They’d sooner kill you before hearing you out.” Erwin said, lacing his fingers together on his desk. This was a lot to take in. Things were more complicated than you had previously presumed, but even still what did you expect? You know nothing of these people and their society. All you have ever known was this one base.

You heaved a shaking sigh before shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Hange. Levi, and Erwin all exchanged quick glances before changing the topic of conversation.

“Well, I have good news, Y/N!” Hange cooed, wrapping their arm over your shoulder and pulling you close. The cloud of negativity in your head instantly dissipated at the contact.

“What is it?” You asked, curiosity prickling your skin.

“I feel bad only seeing you clean and get hurt here, so I got permission to let you help out in the kitchen at meal times! You can help cook!”

“Really?” You glanced between Hange and Erwin, who only smiled in response.

“I think I'd love to cook... t-thank you so much.” You said, suddenly feeling like a part of your character revolved around cooking and eating with your family, though the full memory eludes you still. Levi scoffed, folding his arms together.

“We don’t eat human meat around here, if I find even a single finger in my soup--” He was quickly cut off by Hange’s boisterous laughter.

“Lighten up Levi! This’ll be good for Y/N.” Hange said, giving you a squeeze before heading for the door. Levi’s eyes narrowed at Hange’s words before they slid over to you. Your smile, your eyes looking soft and appreciative. Your bottom lip trembled for only a moment before you sharply inhaled and lifted your head.

“Follow me Y/N! I’ll show you the food we got!” Hange said and you followed their lead. Levi hadn’t noticed but his frown instantly vanished the moment he saw you almost brought to tears by this new job for you. Erwin always the one with sharp eyes for these things hummed to himself in thought.

“How are things?” He asked, bringing Levi back down to earth.

“Tiring. She used to be insufferable, utterly a chore to be around.” Levi complained, surveying his nail beds to keep from making eye contact with his Commander.

“Used to be?” Erwin asked, a playful lilt to his words. Levi’s brow twitched before he stood to take his leave, wordlessly.

...

For dinner that night, tomato soup with bread. Unlike what the cooks for the evening were used to, you added cream to the soup and other seasonings you found collecting dust.

“OOOOH! WHO’S ON KITCHEN DUTY? I need to hug them!” Sasha announced, shedding euphoric tears at the unusual, yet delicious flavor. The other young cadets exchanged cautious looks before simultaneously taking a small spoonful of the soup into their mouths.

The table fell silent as they assessed the flavor, then the next second only the sounds of spoons, slurping, and blissful sighs could be heard. The squad leader table, consisting of Levi, Hange, Miche, Moblit, and Erwin watch as their cadets chow down.

“Bunch of pigs...” Levi comments, he turns his attention to Hange who he finds eating just as monstrously as the cadets. He groans eyeing his soup over; he glances to Erwin who just finished his first bite.  He gives a delighted hum at the food before dipping in his spoon for another. Miche sniffs, a smile forming on his face. He and Moblit dig in leaving only Levi who hasn’t tasted yet.

Having finished cleaning up in the kitchen, you joined their table with a bowl filled with your own soup. You felt giddy hearing the way Sasha and Connie whined for more food.

“Do you like it?” You asked Levi, seeing as how he didn’t seem to be having as much of an outward reaction as everyone else. Your eyes caught a glimpse of his spoon, completely clean. You couldn’t fight the way your shoulders dropped seeing that he hadn’t even tasted it yet.

“Oh... well, I hope you like it.” You said before grabbing your spoon and taking your first bite. Your lips curled into a satisfied smile before you went for another, and then a third. Levi couldn’t deny that it smelled nice and fresh, different from when regular cadets had their turn to scrape something together.

Levi gave his soup one last look before finally dipping his spoon in and taking it to his lips. You waited with bated breath for his commentary. The two of you used to butt heads a lot, but something in you wanted his approval on mundane things. Maybe it was that you wanted him to think differently of you. Maybe it was something else.

Seeing as you weren't going to take silence for an answer, with the way you even ventured to scoot closer to him, Levi felt pressured to respond. He sighed dramatically, rolling his head on his shoulders in agitation.

“It’s edible.” He said, cocking his brow at you, daring you to complain. You snorted at the comment before returning to your soup and he did the same in silence. It was really good, but his pride wouldn’t allow him to admit that it’s the best thing he’d eaten in a long time.

“Y/N were you a chef in a past life or something?” Hange asked, not realizing the unintentional gravity of their question, but you ignored the painful throb it gave your heart.

“I’m not sure, haha.” You replied wearily, your chuckle was forced and there was no smile to your eyes. It wasn’t Hange’s fault, you desperately wanted to remember who you were. Or, at least, you quickly wanted to make peace with the fact that you may never know. Moblit gave Hange a soft nudge with his elbow, nodding in your direction. Hange noticed you looked sad for a moment, but quickly deflected the growing melancholy.

“I’m glad you liked the food! I had to learn how to work a lot of the things back there, but once I did, I had a lot of fun. Got my mind off things for a few hours.” You said, a sad smile on your lips, but a genuine one. The table fell silent for a moment but it was interrupted by Levi standing from his seat.

“Meet me outside.”

Your brows knitted together in confusion at the order, but nevertheless, after you deposited your bowl and his at the sink in the kitchen you did as you were told. You met him outside where he kept his back to you. Next to him sat a few buckets and scrubbing brushes. More chores. Great.

“You’re not as troublesome as you used to be. Today was your last day of cleaning duty. I'm upgrading you to stable duty. Keep ‘em clean and orderly how I like.” That didn’t sound like much of a gift, but you were happy to not need to clean the entire kitchen all the time anymore.

“Take care of the horses, feed and water them, brush ‘em out all of that. It’s dirty work, but I imagine you’ll enjoy the horse's company.” He said, finally turning to face you. He stalked forward to you, closer than he has ever been before. Reading the situation completely wrong your heart fluttered in your chest, your cheeks burning at the sudden proximity.

“The horses are important and vital to scouting missions. You mess up, you’re done. That’s it.”

“O-okay! Thank you, Captain!”

“Don’t call me that...”

“Thank you, Levi!” You corrected instantly, sweat beading at your brow. You don’t understand why now you were so insecure in Levi’s presence but, that’s something you’ll put to the back of your mind for now. This was a big job requiring a lot of trust from him, the fruits of your labor.

“There's only three things you need to worry about now. Cooking, shoveling horse shit, and getting Erwin results from your titan experiments. So, get it done.”

You nodded in response and with that, he left you to get acquainted with the horses. You watched as he disappeared inside, you turned on your heel and when rounding the corner there they were. The stables were modest, just wood and nail constructed to house a fleet of horses. On the inside, it was dirty. Very dirty . Whoever’s job it was to clean this before were obviously lacking in discipline you thought. You whined but before getting yourself dirty making this place clean, you met the horses.

The horses farthest to the end was Levi’s, a huge stallion with marvelous shiny black fur. A luscious mane, and kind eyes. You smiled at the horse, offering your hand for it to sniff. It huffed at you before lowering its head for you to caress.

“Your rider makes me nervous. How do you work with him so well?” The horse whinnied in response making you laugh.

“Look, I’m not sure if I’m afraid of him or just desperate for his faith. But it’s doing a number on my nerves either way.” The horse neighed loudly, swishing its tail back and forth.

“Don’t laugh at me! I’m serious! One moment he’s mean and intimidating, the next it’s like he kind of thinks I’m tolerable. Like I’m his friend at least sometimes!” You pressed your forehead to the horse's snout before humming to yourself.

“Well, horsey, next time you see him, tell him to give me a break. Now let's get this place cleaned up."

Outside the stable, Levi listened as you retrieved the rake and began shoveling the hay around. His arms were folded over his chest, his once knitted brows softening as his eyes shifted to his feet at the ground. He had come to tell you not to bother with brushing out his horse, in fear that it wouldn’t be up to his standards but...

He thinks his horse is in good hands now.