#I feel like someone has reached into the back of my kitchen cupboards- found an expired packet of biscuits

[normalhuman-menace]

My art from two years ago getting dragged out of the depths of this mostly inactive blog and seeing people put tags with little comments in them sure is an experience. I haven't watched wwdits in years but I sure am glad you like that art.

[filthgarbage86]

Take me to Church

Note: this definitely has absolutely nothing to do with the church, but when Eddie feels you for the first time, he's convinced he's found a new religion: you.

You're over at Eddie's for a movie night and dinner like every other week. Normally, you both agree to just wear your pajamas for ultimate comfort. But tonight, you were a little bit more comfortable than normal...

Content warning: smut. filth. innocent, painfully innocent reader. lots and lots of consent, lots of reassurance. Praise kink/degration kink. Body Worship. reader!has a vagina, Eddie x reader, ass grabbing, fingering, p in v, kitchen sex, teasing. Let me know if I missed anything!

you had to know

Eddie is sitting on the edge of his seat, in the kitchen, as you're reaching for something in the cupboard.

Except you're in your night-time wear. Which is always a big shirt and underwear. But you usually put shorts on or pants on in front of Eddie, you guys had only just recently gotten together. You were still getting comfortable with him.

You seem to be plenty comfortable, because as you're not wearing your shorts or pants. You're wearing cheeky, little, boyshort undies that have Eddie realizing he's never really seen your ass. And he feels like he's transcended.

Surely you know that you're showing your whole ass right now.

But you continued to reach on your tiptoes to get something, a snack from the top shelf, but you still had to reach with every inch you could.

"Should I say something?" he thought to himself, immediately followed by the smallest, tiniest, moment of selfish-intent of he didn't want to say something. He wanted to enjoy just looking at you, completely unaware.

"Am I allowed to look? Is this okay? We are together, it's not illegal i guess, but what if-" his spiral came to stop as soon as you came back down, flattening your feet.

You mindlessly pull down your shirt, just like you normally do, oblivious. Until you turned around. And you're greeted with Eddie turning his head so quickly down to the table, trying to cover the bright flush of his cheeks, hoping he didn't get caught. He definitely got caught.

What's up with him? What could have... You immediately go to cover your ass, literally, and are bug eyed. He was totally looking. You giggle a little to yourself. Eddie was staring at your ass and you totally caught him.

"What's so funny?"

"I don't know, what's got you so flustered, huh? See something?"

It was his turn to go bug-eyed. "I didn't mean to- not that I didn't want to, I mean I did, but I didn't want you to get uncomfortable- but I thought for sure you had to have known- but i didn't want to- I was"

You're giggling once again, you've finally got big, scary, mysterious, metalhead dork babbling on, all because he got caught looking at your ass. You walk over very swiftly but gently and hold onto his face, his cheeks immediately warming yours. His face settles into your hold, you loved when he did this.

"Eddie, it's okay, I'm not mad."

"You're not?"

"No, of course not, I'm just a little embarrassed"

"Angel, why are you embarrassed?"

It's your turn to blush, "cause.. you know.. i didn't really realize you were paying attention and that my ass was just out. it's a bit embarrassing of me."

He immediately puts his hands on the curve where your hips and waist meet "Honey, I promise you, it was not embarrassing in the slightest. I felt very guilty at how lucky I felt..."

"Guilty? Lucky? What are you-"

"Can I touch it?"

"What?"

"Y/N, can I touch your ass?"

well shit you are officially more flustered than he was before all of this. Shit. What was even happening? You couldn't do much more than nod your head slowly and softly. He was going to die, how could someone be so fucking hot and so fucking cute at the same time?

"Are you sure? I want you to be fully comfortable. You can tell me how you feel if you don't want me to okay?"

"I know. It's okay. You can do it."

"Can do...?" Okay now he's just being mean.

you are trying to look everywhere else, but it's hard when he's still sitting at the kitchen chair and looking up at you like you hang the stars individually. You take a deep breathe, close your eyes, and at that he squeezes your hips a little. God damn it, you thought you were in control in this situation. "you can... touch me, Eddie"

"Thank you" and with that he slides his hands down your hips with a slight squeeze, then your thighs, first the front a few times, to the sides, wrapping his arms and hands around your thighs starting from the backs of your knees and slides up to grab your ass. Finally.

Both of you groan at this gesture. Your body felt like it was on fire just from his touch, you're already doomed. It felt so good to touch you, you were so soft and were so perfect to him. He couldn't stop groping and kneading and gripping onto your ass as though he was trying to burn the feeling into his head. He practically was.

You breathe out a quiet "Eddie" and he groans again

"Yes Angel?" "Nothing it just.. feels.. good. Thank you" "oh you sweet, beautiful angel, no need to thank me, you are worthy of worship." "Cheeseball." "I'm so serious. you look like those paintings we had to study in history."

You were so fuzzy brained just from his touch, you wanted him to keep touching you. You wanted more. You needed more. It was almost like he heard your thought. He takes one of his hands regrettably off you, but just long enough to where your whine in protest turned into another breathy moan. He grabbed the back of your neck and kissed you feverishly, gripping onto your ass with his other hand hard. You wondered if there would be marks left over, you hoped there would be.

You couldn't stand even the slight distance, you give up caring and straddle him on the kitchen chair. Before wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close to you, not wanting to take your lips off his for even a second, you moved his hand back onto your ass. He groans, deepening the kiss and holding and groping and feeling you.

He moves then to kissing your jawline, down your neck, and up to your sensitive spot near your ear where you could feel and hear every breathe, every whine, every moan this man let out and you were lost. You were completely lost in the moment, your whole body on fire, a heat you've never felt before. You needed him, desperately.

"Eddie, I want.." "Hmm? What was that baby? What do you want?" "Mmmhmm eddieeee" He loosens his grip slightly, having you whine again in protest, "What do you want princess? What do you need?" "I want you to touch me." He chuckles to himself "I am touching you honey" "I mean.. everywhere" "What was that?" Bastard even leaned into you so you could repeat your whisper

"Damn it, Eddie, I don't know. I just want you to touch me everywhere, touch me like you want me."

His face was so still for a second, before his eyes flash with vigor, something sinister behind them, coupled with a wicked smile that went ear to ear. "I can touch you baby?"

"Please."

You would have thought you just told him he won the lottery and are performing in Vegas. He crashes his mouth back onto yours and holds your hips down as he grinds up into you, causing you to gasp at the friction. He used that moment to deepen the kiss, engulfing you in the understanding that he wasn't just touching you how he wanted, but how he needed.

His hands were everywhere. On your hips, thighs, your chest, your ass still, wrapped around you, he couldn't stop until he memorized every single inch of you. He has you writhing under his touch. You were delirious, grinding down onto him as he worked you up. Both of you were just a pair of huffing, panting, moaning messes.

"Do you... want to.. move to.. my room..." Eddie said in between kisses, which he took turns where he was kissing.

"No I need you now. Right now. Please."

"In the kitchen? that's filthy, baby"

"Doesn't matter, I want it, I need you. Please."

"Don't gotta tell me twice"

He lifts your shirt off first, practically drooling at your exposed chest and you had to fight every intention of hiding them. He quickly disguarded his own shirt and then latched his mouth onto one of your nipples and teased the other with his fingers.

"fuck.. shit... god yes. thank you."

"Fuck you're so polite baby, how'd I get so lucky to have such a well mannered filthy little slut?" you whimper at his words, near tears from pleasure. This was going very fast but you were so caught up in it, you didn't dare stop it.

Eddie took one of his hands and slithered down and down and down until he reached your cute, sinful little booty shorts and spread your ass just slightly to rile you up again. This man was going to be the absolute death of you.

He slowly drags then his hand down until he's literally holding your clothed pussy in his hand and you have to really control yourself not to immediate grind down into his touch. That didn't last long though, as he presses two fingers gentle upwards to add pressure directly to your clit. Your eyes roll back a bit, you're so sensitive right now and you just want to put your head down into his neck but you didn't want to give up just yet.

You finally do grind down onto him and he grabs you by your ass with both hands, stands you up, pulls your underwear down while staring you. You couldn't not look at him but that didn't stop you from going completely fuzzy brained. You felt like you were short circuiting.

"You still with me, Angel? You're awfully quiet" "I just don't want to ruin it." "Sweetie, you couldn't ruin this. You are... everything. Like you are so unbelievably stunning, I don't know what to do with myself, but I have many ideas of what I want to do to you. If you still want."

"Yes please."

"Can I finger you, please?" How could you say no to him when he asked so nicely.

You settle back down onto his lap and his kisses turn more gentle. He kisses you on your shoulders, your collarbone, your neck, everywhere he could get to. Down the valley of your chest, even kisses you on both sides with such lightness it makes you dizzy and drunk from affection. You were in heaven.

As he's doing this, his hand slides back and behind you, slipping his fingers in between your pussy. You are soaked. Wet, sticky, sweetly soaked and he decides right there that he himself is ruined forever. He's never felt such a plump, soft, wet, beautiful pussy as yours. He rubs a few circles around your clit to test the waters a bit and are welcomed with breathy moans once again.

"Yes please" you whisper moan to him, your head really meeting his shoulder. He takes this as encouragement to keep going. He takes one finger and inserts it slowly, until he is knuckle deep. His finger starts pumping into at a pain-aching slow speed - "Eddie.. more please. Please a little faster"

He immediately responds and is welcomed with even more sounds. you are giving him so many hums and moans and whines as he changes up his speed, inserting one then two more fingers into you. He's still kissing you all the while and you couldn't care anymore what you look or sound like. It didn't matter, you were a goddess to him.

"That feel good, baby? You like that?" "Feels sooo goooood eddieeee, thank youuu"

"Anything for you, angel. Fuck, you're doing so so so well."

"Can you fuck me, please? I'm ready. I want you to fuck me."

He slips his fingers out of you, leaving you empty long enough to pull down his boxers down enough to spring his dick loose, slapping against his stomach. It was big. It was long. Oh fuck, why are you both scared but so excited at the same time?

You resaddle him, literally feeling like you're saddling up, take hold of his dick and rub the head against your slick. Both of you groan at the sensation, Eddie more so once your hand fondled his cock a bit to distribute your slick onto his dick as lube and he was going to lose his mind. Finally, you line up, and start inching your way down down down until you're flushed against Eddie's lap.

Both of you just sit there for a minute, Eddie trying not to blow his load just from how warm you are and how well you squeeze his cock around your walls. You've never felt this full before, you've heard of the stretch before but you felt like you felt Eddie in your stomach and it felt good. You started rocking a bit and you start seeing stars.

It isn't long until Eddie is humping into you to meet how you bounce and grind down into Eddie, both of you wondering how this could feel so damn good.

"Fuck, you feel amazing." "You too, shit, you're so big" "You're so warm, you're perfect, I'm going to fuck this pussy any chance I get, fuck."

"Yes please, Yes please, Yes please"

You both start going faster, faster, faster until you were losing your rhythm and was obviously trying to hold out. "Babe I'm not going to last long if you keep riding me like an animal" "Me neither, I'm fuck so so so close, please please please"

Your pleads turn into a loss of breathe when your climax tips over you and crushes into you. You're seeing white light and stars until you feel nothing but warmth. Eddie's pumping into you one, two, three more times and then he releases himself. Thank gods you were on birth control. You two just sit there in bliss, ecstasy washed over both of you.

You slump down into his chest and he wraps his arms around you, hugging you into him. You both sit there holding each other as you're catching your breath.

Well, your first time together certainly was eventful.

"So wait.. should I wear shorts around you again or no?"

"If You deprive me of that simple joy and rightful access, I'll protest until the day you understand your ass is my new religion."

That has you laughing hard again, in the midst of your bodies sticking together. "But seriously, you do whatever you're most comfortable. But I wouldn't ever protest to be able to pay worship."

You smack him in the shoulder at that, but you were blushing none the less. You didn't know what you were going to do or how to thank him for looking at you that way. He still felt like he should be thanking you. The feelings were mutual.

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Author's Notes: oh heyyy so like literally all my other pieces, I have uh no fuckin clue where this came from but I definitely needed to share the thought with y'all. Hope you enjoy and if not, please just scroll! Let me know know if you liked it!

[captain-lessship]

His “Sidekick In The Chair” No Longer Pt.2

a/n: I promise that pt. 3 will be longer. Also enjoy Motivational Era quote Pav header cause I made it while sleep deprived

You honestly thought that living with an alien inside you would be significantly worse than what it was. 

Toxin would help you where he could. He would read recipes off to you while you cooked, he would help you with schoolwork and gave his opinion on your outfits albeit that the latter was unwanted.

There was just one thing that worried you: How was Pav going to react?

He was your best friend and it would break your heart if he didn’t approve.

“Are you sad?” Toxin asked as you set the kettle on the stove.

“Well, not exactly. I am just worried.”

“What about?” 

“What if my other friend doesn’t like you?”

The voice was quiet, “I don’t think he has much room to judge.”

You scoffed, “Yeah but I just worry.”

“Too much.”

“Shut up.”

“Fine. But I crave chocolate.” 

You rolled your eyes as you walked to the cupboard and opened it, “What kind?” 

“Dark.” 

You pulled out a bar of chocolate and began eating it, “Ya know, I think we should start training.” 

“For?”

“Superhero work.”

“I see.” 

You heard a knock at your door, you walked to it and looked through the peephole: It was Pavitr. 

It had been a few weeks since he came to your house, you opened the door and  looked at him.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” You joked, letting him in. You shut the door behind him, “So, what’s up?”

Pav looked at you, “I- Well… can we sit down?”

“Sure, I got a kettle on for tea.” You said, wondering where his sunny attitude had gone. 

He followed you into the kitchen and sat at the table, eyes watching you intently. You noticed but you kept your attention on the teapot as you filled it with boiling water. 

“Pav-“ you started but were cut off.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

You thought for a moment before turning around with the tea pot and two cups, “Is there something you want to know?”

You sat down the cup in front of him and poured his cup first, then yours. 

“Has anything… strange happened to you?”

“There is something.” You started, “But you gotta understand that… I did it for a good reason and I am happy that I did. It’ll be good for us, we can both be out there and we can help people.”

He looked at you with confusion, “I know that it is inside of you that can’t be good!” He said, moving his hands as he talked.

You were shocked that he knew and you were wondering how he knew, “He has a name.” 

“Oh he does?”

“Toxin.” You clarified.

“Might as well name him ticket to hel-“ 

Suddenly the crimson creature partially left your body to look Pav in the eye. 

“Toxin!” You shouted, “Be nice. He’s our friend.”

You looked at the creature as it moved back to rest on your shoulder like a messed up parrot.

Pav looked at you with a shocked expression, he’d only seen it on your bed, not as a moving creature, “That’s him?” 

“Yes, and he can be really sweet, right Toxin?”

“Right.” It grumbled out, eyes focused on Pav, who was reaching for his tea cup.

“Well,” Toxin said, eyes now locked to yours, “Is he the Spider Man?”

“You told him?” Pav said, leaning forward.

“He can read my mind, he found himself.” You said, taking a sip from your cup.

“What’s it like?” Pav asked. A smile came to your face: he wasn’t completely scared now, more curious than afraid. 

“Well, It is like having a second voice of reason in you that you have very little control over. He also is very smart and helpful.” You held out your hand for Toxin to move to and encapsulate. “He can also cover my body, which keeps me safe from anything.”

“Can you feel things? Like if you fall or if something gets thrown at you?” 

“Personally? No. But I can feel the force of a hit. Think like went someone turns on a leaf blower in your face or really close to your body.” You stood to allow Toxin to cover you. He stood and slowly moved to touch you, it was like a thick coating of shampoo that was very cool to the touch had invaded you. Pavitr was very impressed by it but a concern can to mind.

“Wow… It’s kinda cool. It doesn’t hurt you right?”

Your voice had changed into a blend of yours and Toxin’s, “Nah, if anything it helps cause I have to remember to take of him and that goes hand in hand with taking care of myself.”

“Does he eat weird things?”

“He’s asked for weird things.”

“Like?”

You had to answer this very carefully, it would either alarm Pav or ease his conscious. “He has asked for human brains but only for the chemicals! Only the chemical phenethylamine!”

Pav regained a look of shock and was about to open his mouth when you added on a small yet comforting detail.

“Phenethylamine is also found in chocolate.”

———————

@cantdothis-nomore

[cybrsan]

Ahhh congrats on your 100!!! I love your prompt options, can you plz do yunho with 1, 14, 36

Thank you so much! Since you didn't specify what genre, I avoided writing smut just in case.

Prompts:  1. “Come over here and make me.” + 14. “You heard me. Take. It. Off.” + 36. “You were put on this earth to give me a headache.”  Pairing: Roommate!Yunho x F!Reader Genre: Angst, Fluff Word Count: <1kTags/warnings: Alcohol usage, hidden feelings, somewhat controlling behavior

Requests are currently closed, but my masterlist can be found here.

“Jeong Yunho, give me my phone back right now, or I am going to end you.”

“Come over here and make me,” he teases, letting the device hang haphazardly between his thumb and index finger as he dangles it over the sink that is currently filled with dirty dishes and soapy water. 

You lunge at him and he immediately reacts, holding the phone high over his head and out of your reach. He laughs at you as you try to grab it from him, knowing that your attempts are useless. Not only are you unsteady on your feet from the alcohol, but he has a good few inches on you already. After a few tries, you decide to stop and save the rest of your dignity while you still can.

With an exasperated groan, you take a seat at one of the kitchen barstools, resigning yourself to simply glaring at him until he gives it back or until he erupts into a fiery blaze. Whatever happens first.

“You’re an asshole,” you chide. “I swear, you were put on this earth to give me a headache.” 

He slides your phone into the small space between the cabinets and the ceiling, and you cringe, thinking of all the dust that’s probably up there. Maybe you’ll make him clean it as revenge. He sits next to you, and, petty as you are, you move down a stool so that there is space between you. 

“I’m an asshole for not letting you text your ex? I feel like that’s unfair.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m going to kick you out.”

“And pay the rent all on your own? Doubt it.”

“You know, you really need to stop hanging out with Wooyoung so much. His brattiness is rubbing off on you.”

Yunho laughs, throwing his head back. “He’s gonna love to hear that.” 

Your conversation tapers off, Yunho getting himself a snack from one of the cupboards while you play absentmindedly with your half-drunk glass of rum and coke. The silence starts to grate at your nerves and, steeling yourself, you down the rest of your drink and get up to put on your coat. 

Yunho eyes you suspiciously. “And where are you going?” 

“Hyunjin’s house. Since someone won’t let me text him.”

“Woah,” he gets up, moving toward you. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea. Look, I’ll give you your phone back, but just wait until you’re sober, okay?” 

“Nice try,” you huff, turning around to leave.

He grabs your wrist, his grip gentle but still firm enough to prevent you from moving. “Y/N, you aren’t thinking straight. He broke your heart, remember?” 

The reminder makes you bristle, and you choose to ignore it. “Yunho, you can’t stop me.”

“I think I can,” he says, moving to stand in front of the door. “Take off your coat.”

“What?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

You gape at him, shocked by his audacity. Yet, as much as you don’t want to listen to him, there is something about his aura that makes you hesitant to argue. So, for the second time tonight, you give in to him, harrumphing as you take off your coat and throw it directly at his face.

“Fine, you win. I’ll stay locked in the apartment forever, resorting to carrier pigeons and smoke signals as my only means of communicating with the outside world!”

You flop onto the couch dramatically, and Yunho rolls his eyes as he hangs your coat up for you. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

“Doubt it.” Next thing you know, Yunho is in front of you, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. You screech, flailing in his grasp. “What the hell do you think you are doing?!”

“Putting you to bed.”

“Well, I’m flattered, but I’m really not into the whole super dominant thing.”

He ignores your snide comment, gently placing you into your bed and tucking you in so that the blanket forms a cacoon around you. You grumpily snuggle deeper into your mattress, and he chuckles. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Am not.”

“Are too—even when you attempt to cause me bodily harm. Now get some rest.”

“Wait,” you say, stopping him from leaving. “Can I ask you something?”

He sits next to you and nods. “Yeah, go ahead.” 

“Why do you care so much? About me not reaching out to Hyunjin, I mean.”

“You really have to ask?” When you don’t answer, he continues, “He hurt you, Y/N. I watched, unable to do anything to help, as it took you weeks to get over him. I don’t want to see that happen again. I care about you too much to stand idly by this time.”

You light up a bit at his words. “Yeah? You really mean that?”

He smiles at you, eyes crinkling, and says, “Of course.” Then, leaning down, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry for stealing your phone earlier. Maybe I was a little drunk, too. I’ll charge it for you.”

“It’s okay. Thank you, Yunho. For looking out for me.”

“Always. Sleep tight, okay?” 

He stands up and turns off your light, and it doesn’t take long for you to fall into a dreamless slumber. When you wake, your phone is at your bedside table, along with a glass of water, some aspirin, and a handwritten note.

Please don’t go back to him. Let me treat you better.

[yurislotusgarden]

Akutagawa with 19 and 12?

Dinner surprise

ʚїɞ Akutagawa Ryuunosuke x Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ The event

ʚїɞ word count: 510

ʚїɞ Tw’s: None! Just pure fluff, reader’s gender is not specified in any way

ʚїɞ Per event rules, there's only one prompt per ask, so I hope you don't mind I went with 12!

If there's one place that no one would expect Akutagawa Ryuunosuke in, it would be in the kitchen, helping with, or even making food himself.

Currently, he could be seen in front of a counter, cutting up a few vegetables for dinner, while you could be seen in front of the stove, in charge of the things already starting to cook. Gin would usually help but she got a surprise mission therefore she’s out.

Just after the water started to boil in one of the pots, you remembered you had to add one specific spice, it’s barely used in the Akutagawa household, meaning the siblings decided to put it into a cupboard placed high up, way too high to reach without a small ladder, at least for you. Maybe someone over 190cm (6’2 I believe) could barely reach it, so never mind you doing so. Why do they even have a cupboard that high?

There is a small ladder in their house for things like that, the problem is that you aren’t sure where it is since it’s always moved around by Gin. Ryuu really has to stop putting things in higher places just to spite her about height.

“Hey Ryuu, can you watch the food on the stove while I go look for the mini ladder?”

“Sure, but why do you need the ladder?”

After he agreed, you started walking towards the kitchen entrance. “I need to get [spice] to add to dinner but it’s too high to reach so imma be back in a minute or two.”

Finding the ladder took in fact, way longer than you anticipated, as it took over 10 minutes. You really wonder why in hell it was in Gin’s room but if you were to bet, your oh-so-lovely boyfriend decided to put something of hers on a higher shelf out of spite. You really can’t explain the love-hate sibling relationship, but oh well.

When you got back to the kitchen, you found out your search was useless upon noticing the spice you needed ready on the counter. It’s obvious to you why and how.

“You really couldn’t do that while I was in the kitchen?”

“Didn’t feel like doing so”

You're well aware that he can just grab stuff with Rashomon, but completely forgot about it earlier.

…You’re fighting the urge to grab one of the pans on the stove to hit him across the head. Affectionately, of course.

“Don’t stare at me like that.” Seems he can feel the glare. Good.

“How about no?”

“What-”

A surprise peck on the cheek when he was turning around to face you. It was enough to crash this man like a computer for good 2 minutes.

“It’s annoying that you just let me go search for the ladder for like 10 minutes even when you probably knew where it was from the start, but thank you for bringing it down for me, Ryuu.”

No answer from him, an innocent smile from you while moving away from him.

Little shit.

He should’ve let the food burn.

Notes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated

Do not copy or translate my works on/to any site

[featherandferns]

fluff drabble for 13?

13. You ate the last slice of cake. You're dead to me now.

absolutely!

feel free to request: prompt list

have your cake and eat it too - prompt 13

No.

No, no, no. This can’t be happening.

Your stomach twists and churns and you feel your light mood immediately drop like an anchor sinking to the water’s bottom.

You push a few more things out the way, hoping that maybe the remaining slice of cake is somehow hidden behind two bottles of beer and a half empty punnet of strawberries…but it’s useless and built on false hope. The cake that you’d been saving specifically for this afternoon is gone.

“Goddamn it,” you mutter, ticked off.

Closing the fridge, you trudge to the cupboards in search of something sweet to have instead. There’s a two-week out-of-date protein bar, topped with chocolate. It’ll do. It’s definitely not as good as that last slice of strawberry shortcake, though. As you eat, you stare out the window of the Chateau’s kitchen absentmindedly. Normal thoughts pass through your mind, like plotting the murder of whichever of your friends ate the last slice of cake.

When someone’s arm wraps around your waist and hoist you up, you let out a surprised yelp. JJ presses wet, purposefully sloppy kisses to your neck as you groan out in protests, trying to shove him off.

“Cut it out!”

JJ finally lets up with a laugh, putting you back on the floor. You spin around to face him. The moment you lay eyes on him, you know who the victim is for your imaginary daydreams. In his spare hand, the one that he hadn’t wrestled you up from the floor with, is the last slice of cake. There’s a huge bite already taken out of it. Whatever JJ’s babbling on about is falling on deaf ears. You’re staring at the cake like it might start talking to you.

“Is that my cake?”

“Huh?”

He follows your gaze and shrugs. “I just found it in the fridge.”

“That was mine,” you tell him.

JJ raises his brows, a shit-eating grin already growing on his face.

“This was yours?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Well, how come? Does it have your name on it?”

Making his point, he lifts the plate up nearer to his eyes and pretends to search for your name pasted on the frosting.

“No, I don’t see your name,” JJ concludes.

“I’ve been saving that all day,” you darkly say, glaring holes into his head. JJ doesn’t even tremble under your deadly gaze. If anything, his smile grows.

He picks up the slice careless, like it’s a twinkie or something that he found under the sofa and has another bite. Talking with his mouth full, he says, “I can see why, I mean, it’s really good.”

Reaching out for it, you say, “at least share it with me.”

He’s taller than you and easily holds it out of your reach. Grinning down at you, he swallows then asks, “why should I?”

“Because you’re a nice boyfriend,” you say. You’re jumping up, trying to reach for the half-slice left.

“I am?”

“When you want to be.”

“Hm,” JJ thinks. “I guess that’s true.”

“JJ! Come on!” you whine. So close.

But he’s backing away from you, still holding the cake up. “Well, what’s in it for me?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I get in return for sharing my slice of cake with you?”

You bite back to the urge to remind him that it isn’t his slice of cake. “I don’t know. The satisfaction of being a good boyfriend?”

“Yawn.”

“The joy of making someone happy?”

“Boring,” he sing-songs.

JJ leisurely takes another bite, somehow still too quick for you to grab the cake from him. You have to be careful. You can’t let him drop it. Whilst you’ll be put off eating it, he has no shame and would still finish the whole thing off.

“Oh! I know!” JJ says as an idea comes to him, swallowing his mouthful. Grinning boyishly, he continues. “You have to give me head.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Trading head for cake is technically prostitution,” you tell him. A bit of a stretch, but still…

JJ barks out a laugh. His body relaxes when he does, and his arm lowers just enough that you can reach. In his brief moment of distraction, you jump up and swipe the cake.

“Hey!”

You immediately make a run for it, laughing manically, darting under his arm and out the front door. JJ’s laughing too, racing as after you.

“Give it back!”

“Never!” you call back.

The Pogues, who are sat outside, perk up as you race past them. Crumbs are falling off the cake as you go.

“What’s going on?” Pope asks.

“I’ve been robbed, Pope! That’s what’s going on!” JJ tells him.

JJ catches up and tackles you into his arms. You start screaming through your laughs, trying to wriggle free.

Locked in his hold, you still try and keep the cake from out of his reach. It’s like a stalemate. If he lets go of you with even one arm, you’ll break free again. If he tries to take a bite from the cake, you simply hold it out of his reach, but if you try and take a bite, he’ll practically ram your head with his as he goes in to take some too.  

“Why don’t you two just share it?” Sarah offers, humour in her voice as she watches the whole exchange transpire. John B and Kie have gone back to their conversation; yours and JJ’s antics like white noise to them by this point.

“Oh, we’re well past the point of that now,” you tell her.

You’re not sure how the idea came to JJ, but the moment it does you’re screaming through your uncontrollable laughs and falling to his mercy. He’s tickling at your stomach, relentlessly ambushing you on either side.

“JJ! Stop it! I’m gonna pee myself!” you practically cry through your hysterics.

JJ lets up and lets you go. You collapse onto the ground, trying to catch your breath, and JJ swoops down and takes the last slice of cake. There’s no time to even say goodbye. He eats it in one huge mouthful. You gape up at him from the grass. Betrayal.

“You bastard,” you dramatically say.

JJ wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I hope that cake was worth it. You’re in the doghouse for a week,” you tell him.

JJ stands upright, hands shoving into his pockets. Cocky, he tells you, “you can’t stay mad at me for a day, let alone a week.”

“Watch me. You ate the last slice of cake. You’re dead to me now.”

He quirks a brow. Behind him, the sun shines, casting him in a gorgeous glow. Damnit. Even looking at him has your resolve breaking.

“What if I gave you head?” he offers.

You bite back your smile. JJ knows it’s there nonetheless; starts grinning too. Knows he’s won once again. Rolling your eyes, as if having him go down on you is some kind of inconvenience, you sigh.

“I guess that could win me back.”

[washingmachinegirly]

Iona Featherbrook Drabble (Gale x OC)

Posting my drabbles and DND characters I create here now. (They are all to made secretly to date someone from BG3)

TW: None

Gale Dekarios x OC (Iona Featherbrook)

Prompt: A wizard appears at your front door and tells you that you must go on an adventure. What is the adventure and why?

Prologue (aka everything I've written so far)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunlight glints against the swords hanging on the wall, some reflecting rainbow lights upon the ground—specks of dust dance in the light through the shop's restless air. Stray bouts of static energy scatter the dust like miniature missiles ready to attack visitors’ allergies. The Enchanted Anvil is a small shop set up in Waterdeep a few years back. It provides its patrons with anything they may need enchanted—swords, rings, cloaks, battleaxes, and more. While the store is known by both locals and travelers for seemingly always having what they need, it is most well-known for who owns the shop. Like the store, the shop owner is known for her explosive personality and lightning-fast wits and reflexes. Her traits and the adventures she has partaken in have gifted her many names, but no name is more popular than her latest—the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. 

Iona can be found in the back, polishing the last of her freshly enchanted rings. Today has been like any other day in her newly found adult life. She wakes up, feeling a soft dip in her bed before the mattress adjusts to accompany only her weight. After drinking in the morning sun from the window with her eyes shut, she sits up and stretches her aching limbs. A snap here and a crack there. Before she can gather enough of her bearings to stand up, her husband returns with a hot cup of coffee and kisses her on her forehead, cradling her cheek.

The rest of her morning is just as gentle as the beginning. She rises to do her business in the washroom before ushering herself towards the entrance of their abode to wish her husband farewell before he leaves for his job at the academy. 

“Goodbye, love. I hope your day is fruitful with discoveries and well-behaved pupils.”

“It seems my honied words have passed onto you.” he jests.

“Oh, just get out of here before you are late.” she retorts, smiling and rolling her eyes. 

“Goodbye, dear. I hope the day brings you courteous patrons and you back into my arms in due time.” he says, pulling Iona in his arms to kiss her before walking out the door.

After closing the door behind her lover, she continues her routine to prepare for work. As Iona pads from bedroom to kitchen to bathroom to bedroom, the couple’s tressym, Tara, weaves between her feet, rubbing affectionately against the woman’s legs. Readily dressed to run her shop, Iona quickly reaches into the cupboard to feed Tara before heading out. The tressym purrs in appreciation, pattering over to her bowl, filled with only the best delights. 

“Stay out of trouble, Mrs. Dekarios.” The tressym instructs as the sorceress rushes out the door.

Iona looks back at Tara, smiling earnestly.

“No promises, Tara!”

[in-a-nook-with-a-notebook]

Nightmarish | Anything For You

Masterlist

Franchise: Percy Jackson

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Nick Oliver (original character, pronouns are he/him/his)

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: swearing, angst, nightmares, flashbacks, angst, violence, injuries, Nick's dip in the Styx, not all torture is physical I suppose, implied smut at the end

Series Summary: Nick Oliver was on track to figure out his life after high school. One day in a bookstore, and suddenly, post-high school plans were the farthest thing from his mind. One day in a bookstore, he met Luke Castellan.

Chapter Summary: As all demigod dreams go, Nick's night is plagued with nightmares, featuring flashbacks of his and Luke's time together.

A/N: Posting this is me ignoring my academic obligations and the fact that I'm about to have seven performances within the month

Nick leans against the kitchen counter of his and Luke’s shared apartment three years later. It’s 2am and he can’t sleep, especially when he knows what Luke’s been up to. Luke himself shuffles out of the bedroom, hair sticking up in several directions, looking like a sleepy blond hedgehog more than a servant of Kronos. He yawns and meets Nick’s gaze. 

“What’re you doing up?” He mumbles, walking over to him. Luke gently kisses Nick on the cheek and reaches past him to get a mug from the cupboard. Nick watches him in silence as his boyfriend busies himself with boiling water in the kettle. 

“Are you sure about this, babe?” Nick asks finally. “The dip in the Styx and all of this, this Kronos stuff?” 

“Nicky, baby…” 

“I’m not an idiot, Luke, I know what all of this means.” 

The kettle boils. Luke pours himself a cup full of the hot water and gets a mug for Nick. “Tea?” He inquires softly. 

“Hot chocolate.” 

Luke adds some hot chocolate powder to Nick’s cup, then the water, passes it to him, and grabs a tea bag from the drawer for himself. “You know you can’t change my mind about this. About any of this. You went through, why can’t I?” 

“Luke, baby, I went into the River because I’m reckless, careless, and I was born with a target on my back- my dad thought it was necessary and so did I! You’re going in to prepare to be possessed by a goddamn Titan, there’s a difference.” 

“What are you trying to convince me of?” 

Nick sighs, stirring his drink to mix the powder with the water. He moves to get milk from the fridge. “I haven’t tried to convince you not to do this since we left camp. I just don’t want you to get hurt.” He adds milk to his hot chocolate and takes a sip. He puts away the milk. 

“The Styx is the only way.” 

“Or you could just not go through with any of it,” Nick mutters, tapping Luke’s chest. The son of Hermes is an infuriating three inches taller than him, so he has to look up to see his eyes every time. 

“Thought you said you weren’t convincing me,” Luke teases. 

“Just… suggesting.” 

Luke kisses him softly. “Let’s finish these and get back to bed, okay?” 

————————

Nick’s sleep is plagued with dreams, as usual. It starts with memories of his very first quest with Luke. 

He stands alone in an alley in Chicago, his cane in one hand and his umbrella resting on his shoulder. He didn’t mean to lie to Luke and Beckendorf, but here he was. Nick manages to catch his breath; he had been running. Then he hears someone call his name. 

“Nick!” 

He looks up to see Beckendorf standing at the end of the alley. “Luke, I found your boy!” He calls down the street. 

Luke appears, looking relieved, until he expression melts into fear and anger. 

“Nick, behind you!” 

Nick doesn’t have time to turn around before he feels the intense pain in his back; he’s been stabbed. He curses loudly in Ancient Greek and twists the handle of his cane to make it a sword, slashing behind him at the monster who did the deed. It disappears in a cloud of yellow dust, the sword used to stab him is still in his back, and Nick now has a whole new reason to catch his breath. 

“I’ll Iris-message Chiron,” Beckendorf tells Luke as the blond rushes to his boyfriend. 

“I’m fine, Luke, I promise,” Nick says through a strained voice, his vision blurring, then clearing, then blurring again. 

“You’ve been stabbed, you are most certainly not fine,” Luke retorts. Nick sees tears in Luke’s eyes before he moves behind hm to look at the wound. “Gods, of all the quests not to have a son of Apollo with us.” 

“Hey, technically we’re already done our quest. Chiron can just come and… Chiron can come and… he’ll… he…”  The pain overwhelms him and he passes out in Luke’s arms.

———————— 

The dream shifts from a time after Nick had been healed to the time when Nick and Luke went down to the River Styx with Nick’s father, Hades. 

“Are we sure about this?” Luke asks worriedly. 

“My children are born with targets in their backs,” Hades says solemnly. “I wouldn’t wish a dip in the Styx on my worst enemy, but the protection is necessary.” 

“I’ll be fine, Luke,” Nick says. 

“You have to prepare yourself, son,” Hades states. 

“Prepare himself?” Luke inquires, looking at Nick. “Why?” 

“It’ll kinda destroy me if not. Burn away my body and soul, stuff like that.” 

“Nick!” 

“Did I not mention that?” 

“There’s only one way for him to stay anchored to his mortal life,” Hades explains. “He has to… oh, great. What are you doing here?” 

Nick and Luke look up to see a Greek warrior. He reminds Nick of Ares – tall and buff, with a cruel scarred face and closely shaved black hair. He’s wearing a white tunic and bronze armour, carrying a plumed war helm under his arm. But his eyes are human – pale green like a shallow sea – and a bloody arrow is sticking out of his left calf, just above his ankle.

It’s the ghost of Achilles. 

“Do not do this,” the hero warns. “It will make you powerful, but it will also make you weak. Your prowess in combat will be beyond any mortal’s but your weaknesses, your failings will increase as well.” 

“What, you mean like a bad heel? I don’t opt for sandals in battle, no offence.” 

Achilles glances down at his bloody foot. “The heel is only my physical weakness, demigod. My mother, Thetis, held me there when she dipped me in the Styx. What really killed me was my own arrogance. Beware! Turn back!” 

“I get that you’re trying to protect me, man, but I’ve made my decision.” 

“I think what my remarkably polite boyfriend is trying to say is go away, Achilles,” Luke interjects. 

Achilles lowers his head. “Let the gods witness I tried.” 

“Consider it witnessed,” Hades replies. 

Nick notices Achilles stop himself from scowling at Hades. “Hero,” he continues, addressing Nick again, “if you must do this, concentrate on your mortal point. Imagine one spot of your body where your soul will anchor your body to the world. It will be your greatest weakness, but also your only hope. No man may be completely invulnerable. Lose sight of what keeps you mortal, and the River Styx will burn you to ashes. You will cease to exist. Prepare yourself, foolish boy. Whether you survive this or not, you have sealed your doom!” 

With that happy thought, the old hero disappears. 

“Well, that was considerate of him,” Nick states bluntly. 

“Are you still sure about this?” Luke murmurs, slipping his hand into Nick’s and looking him in the eye. 

“If you like having a living boyfriend…” 

“How I ended up with a son so reckless and careless, I’ll never know,” Hades says. 

“Funny, ‘cause you’ve always said I got it from that mother I never knew.” 

Hades chuckles. “That, you did.” 

Nick kisses Luke. “I love you.” 

He concentrates on the small of his back – a tiny point just opposite his navel. It’s well defended when he wears armour; it would be hard to hit by accident; and few enemies would aim for it on purpose. No place would be perfect, really, but his back is more dignified than his armpit or something. Nick imagines a string, a bungee cord connecting him to the world from the small of his back, and he steps into the river. 

Imagine jumping into a pit of boiling acid. Now multiply that pain times fifty. You still won’t be close enough to understand what it feels like to swim in the Styx. 

Nick is submerged completely. He can’t breathe and every nerve in his body burns, like he’s dissolving in the water. He sees faces – Luke, Beckendorf, Percy, Annabeth, Will and Nico – but they fade as soon as they appear. 

“Be safe, brother,” Nico says. 

“Come back alive, Zombie Boy,” Annabeth puts in. Even with all the pain, Nick almost smiles at the stupid nickname. 

Nick is losing the fight; the pain is nearly too much for him. His hands and feet are melting into the water and his soul is being ripped from his body. He can’t remember who he is. He can’t remember anything about himself. 

The cord, a familiar but disembodied voice says. Remember your fucking lifeline! 

Suddenly, there’s a tug in his lower back. The current pulls at him, but it isn’t carrying him away anymore. He imagines the string in his back keeping him tied to the shore. 

“You better hold on, Nicky.” It’s Luke’s voice, much clearer now. “I’m not letting you die on me just yet.” 

The cord strengthens. 

He can see Luke now – standing above him in training armour, his sword held loosely in his hand. They’re in the combat arena at camp. Luke holds his hand out to help him up, as he’d been knocked down. “Stop leaving yourself undefended,” Luke says through a small laugh. “Come on, let’s keep training. Take my hand already.” 

Memories come flooding back to him, sharper and more colourful. His name is Nick Oliver. He reaches up and takes Luke’s hand. 

Suddenly, he bursts out of the river. He collapses on the sand, and Luke and Hades scramble back in surprise. 

“Are you okay?” Luke asks immediately. “Your skin… oh gods, you’re hurt. Shit…” 

Nick’s arms are bright red. He feels like every inch of his body has been broiled over a slow flame. He realizes he’s not in the combat arena. It had felt so real. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “I think.” The colour of his skin turns back to normal and the pain subsides. He shifts himself to lay on his back in the sand. “Yeah. All good.” 

————————

The dream shifts again. Nick is running from a servant of the goddess Oizys; it’s his second quest with Luke, and he may or may not have lied to the son of Hermes about his whereabouts. Luke would still be back where they had temporarily set up camp for the night waiting for Nick to come back with food. Things didn’t exactly go as planned. 

The demigod serving Oizys had been pelting Nick’s mind with jabs at things that Nick always pushes down: how he doesn’t think he’s good enough, or strong enough; how he doesn’t feel like he belongs; how he worries if he’s really worthy of Luke’s love, worries if Luke even really loves him at all. 

Speaking of Luke, Nick turns a corner and almost runs right into the blond. 

“What are you doing here!” Nick hisses. 

“What am I doing here? I’m looking for you, hot shot, you were taking way too long getting food for only three people. I left Malcom back at our site to come look for you.” 

“You can’t be here right now!” 

“Well, I am. What in the name of the gods are you doing!?” 

“Running, and I suggest you do, too!” 

“Luke Castellan,” the booming voice of the servant says, materializing behind Luke. Before either boy can react, the servant pulls Luke against her and presses a Celestial bronze blade to his throat. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for Kronos?” 

“Preparing for Kronos…? Luke, what’s she talking about?” 

The servant chuckles lowly. “What’s this? You haven’t told your beloved about that big plan of yours?” 

“Let him go,” Nick says firmly. 

“Are you sure you’ll want him free when you hear what he’s been up to?” She taunts. 

“What part of let him go wasn’t clear?” 

“Let’s talk about this, son of Hades.” 

“Give me back my Luke!” Nick says loudly. 

He can’t see it, but his green eyes begin to glow purple, as do his weapons. What he does see is a flicker of fear in the servant’s expression. 

“My name is Nick Andrei Oliver, son of Hades, bearer of the curse of Achilles and man of two worlds. I have fought Ares, Nemesis, even Zeus. I have battled your master and won, and you are nothing compared to her. I will not ask you again.” Nick’s typically reddish-brown hair goes dark, engulfed in black fire. 

“Let my boyfriend go.” 

————————

The dream shifts to directly after Nick’s battle with the servant of Oizys. Nick has pulled Luke into an alley and carefully leans him against a brick wall. 

“I will never lie to you again, I’m so so sorry,” Nick murmurs repeatedly. His mind is working overtime, fighting the thoughts that Oizys’s servant planted in his head while trying to keep Luke alive. The servant had hurt him badly. He definitely has a concussion. He’s bleeding from a cut at his hairline, as well as his arm, his side and his leg. His left wrist is bent at a strange angle and his right ankle twisted the last time he tried to stand. 

“‘S’not your fault, Nicky,” Luke mumbles, his words slurring together slightly. 

“Of all the days not to have an Apollo kid on a quest, right?” 

Luke laughs weakly at Nick’s reference to what Luke had said on their last quest. Suddenly, someone swears loudly in Ancient Greek. Nick and Luke look up to see Malcolm Pace, son of Athena and third member of the quest, standing at the end of the alley. 

“We were just about to come get you,” Nick says, knowing full well that neither he nor Luke had thought of Malcolm during the fight. 

“Move over, Oliver.” 

“What’re you gonna do?” 

“My best friend is a son of Apollo, I’ve learned a few things.” 

Nick sighs and collapses next to Luke, leaning his head against the brick wall. Luke’s hand finds Nick’s and they lock their hands together. 

“What happened?” Malcolm asks softly. 

“Servant of Oizys,” Nick mumbles. 

Malcolm looks up with wide eyes between Luke’s injuries and the physically unharmed Nick. He nods sadly and squeezes Nick’s shoulder. “Say no more.” 

That’s Nick’s breaking point. The sobs he had choked down, the tears he was holding back, all of it erupts. While Malcolm patches up a half-conscious Luke, Nick lets it all out in the company of his boyfriend and his friend. 

————————

Nick wakes up trembling, his face wet and tears in his eyes. Luke is awake, too, gently holding Nick’s arm and rubbing his thumb in circles on Nick’s bicep to help him calm down. 

“I’m right here, Nicky.” 

“Yeah, but for how much longer?” Nick mutters bitterly. 

“Nick…” 

“Luke, babe, I have seen you on the brink of death too many times, but I’ve felt the Styx, I’ve felt it. It nearly killed me, I was disintegrating in the water- there is no worse feeling out there. I can’t see you get hurt again, I cannot do that, Luke, I-” Nick interrupts himself crying. Luke pulls him into his arms and kisses the top of his head. 

“You don’t have to come with me.” 

Nick shakes his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. I love you too much to let you go down there and go through that alone. You did it for me.” 

“I’d do anything for you, ómorfos.” 

Luke tilts Nick’s chin up and captures his lips in a slow, passionate kiss. Nick gives in, relishing in the warmth of Luke’s body so close to his. He knows Luke won’t be Luke for too much longer and he hates that, so he tries to forget it. He tries to forget that he’ll have to fight the love of his life to stop Kronos. 

Nick cradles Luke’s face in his hands as he deepens the kiss. Luke wraps an arm around Nick’s waist, pulling him closer. 

Nick lays down and Luke shifts to be on top of him, their lips never parting. Luke kisses along his boyfriend’s jaw and down his neck to his collarbone. He melts into Nick’s embrace and tries to keep his mind off how he knows he can’t be with him forever. Luke knows he’ll have to distance himself from Nick once Kronos takes control. He’ll never get the chance to ask Nick to… Luke clears his mind of the thought. No use grieving the life he could have had, even if it’s his own damn fault he lost it. 

Nick’s hand drifts into Luke’s hair and he knots his fingers in it, tugging a little. “Luke, please,” he whispers in the blond’s ear. Luke groans softly, locking his lips with Nick’s again while his hand travels to the hem of Nick’s shirt. 

A/N: should I go to sleep? Yes. Will I? Jury's out. Feedback is encouraged and appreciated, thank you for reading!!

[lonesome-witching]

We'll Rule the World

I did not proofread this. I did not edit this. I wrote this in about an hour while being tired and stressed for tomorrow. But I still want to share it with you guys.

So, let's say this is my final work for @strangerthingsfemslashweek for day 7: free choice

“I like to believe that someday we’ll rule the world.” Robin lay on the hood of the Wheeler station wagon, staring at the stars in the sky. Nancy sitting next to her.

“Why is that?” She asks, her gaze directed straight ahead of her. 

“Because life sucks and people treat women like garbage. I keep thinking of the guy at Pennhurst. The way he looked at us. It just gets under my skin.” 

Nancy scoffs. Her own mind taking her back to the Hawkins Post and the men who treated her like filth. Like she was a puppet there for their amusement and to get their lunches. 

“Sorry, you probably didn’t invite me to hang out just to talk about misogyny.” Robin clears her throat and takes a sip of her drink. A can of lukewarm beer that Nancy found in the back of one of the cupboards in her kitchen. 

When Nancy didn’t reply, she spoke again. “Why did you invite me?” It was a loaded question and Robin knew it before she decided to ask it. 

“I- I don’t really know. I just needed some company and I guess it’s just easy with you.” Nancy doesn’t turn around to face Robin. Maybe she should but she doesn’t know if she can. She doesn’t know if she has the strength to look at the other girl in the dim starlight. 

“Oh.” 

“Sorry. Should I take you back home?” This time Nancy does turn, before she can think better of it. Her eyes catch Robin’s gaze and she wants to scream. 

“No, I’m okay. I’m perfectly fine.” 

Nancy leans back, lays down next to Robin, avoids her gaze once again. “Can you tell me a story?” 

“What kind of story?”

“Any kind. Just something that is true.” Nancy frowns at her own words. Even she doesn’t know what she wants, what she means with them. Somehow Robin does. Because Robin always understands. 

“When I was a sophomore with barely any friends I would go and lay on the roof of my house. If I climb out of the window and position my foot just right in this crack in the wall I can just reach it. On the way down I’ve fallen a few times though. Anyway, I would lay there much like I lay here on the hood of your car, and I would stare up at the stars and dream. There was this one dream that particularly stuck with me.” She pauses for a second, collects her thoughts and continues.

“I always talked about leaving Hawkins and running away to Europe or just anywhere. But as I was laying on my rooftop I would always dream of just belonging here. I’d dream of making friends and finding someone to love and settling down in a small house at the end of a cul-de-sac.” 

Nancy couldn’t keep the grimace off her face. 

“Sounds horrible, doesn’t it? I completely agree. Because that wasn’t my dream. It was what I was supposed to dream. It was the easy way out. And I would imagine it and there would be this knot in my stomach and I realized that even though I could try it, dream it, imagine it, I could never be it. I could never be the person that this town wanted me to be. Wants me to be. So, I became the opposite. I tried to rebel. I started slinging ice cream to escape. I told every person that would listen that this town is a trap. And somehow that’s how I found a place to belong. That’s about as real as I can get.” There’s a soft smile on her face as she keeps her eyes on her beer. The one she’s not drinking anymore. 

“Where are you going to go?” Nancy feels a tug at her heart, a reminder of what she’s ignoring. 

“I’m thinking Paris. The way that city is described in songs and poetry, it must be magnificent, life-changing.” 

“Paris does sound nice.” 

“Where are you going to go?” Robin repeats the question with a smile and a sparkle in her eyes.

“I’m going to be little miss perfect. I’ll go to Boston, get my degree and then… Maybe Indianapolis or Chicago but probably somewhere like Hawkins.” Nancy does take another drink of the beer. It’s vile and burns her throat in a way beer really shouldn’t. But it fits her mood.

“Where do you want to go?” 

“New York, maybe. Paris sounds great. LA or Rome or London. Somewhere big and grand and full of possibilities. Somewhere that keeps surprising you even though you’ve lived there 20 years. Somewhere you can be anonymous because you keep getting swallowed in massive crowds that lead you astray but you let them because it’s better than being seen.” 

“You know you can do that, right? You don’t have to be little miss perfect. You can be you. And that will be perfect enough.” Robin’s pinky slides against Nancy’s hand. 

“My parents would not approve.” 

“Karen will be fine with it, she wants you to be happy. And Ted, he’d barely notice. And even if they’d hate you for it, Nance, you have to do what makes you happy. There is no point in pretending, in pleasing other people. This is your life. Take it, do something with it, live it.” 

Nancy can’t help herself. She grabs Robin’s hand and intertwines their fingers. “I’m scared.” She admits, her throat closing up. 

“What are you scared of?” 

“I’m scared of admitting what I want… Who I want.” 

Robin looks at their intertwined hands. “Who do you want?” She asks breathlessly. 

Nancy doesn’t reply. She doesn’t know how to get the simple admission out of her mouth. Because she has been hiding for so long. She has been denying it for so long. 

“Who do you want, Nance?” Robin asks again a few moments later. 

“I want you.” Her voice breaks on that last word. A sob threatens to slip out. 

“I want you too.” 

Nancy turns her head to find Robin already staring at her. Robin’s thumb strokes over the back of her hand and that is encouragement enough for Nancy to close the distance. To finally quench that thirst in her heart that kept trying to leap out, that has leapt out. 

They kiss for hours and hours. Until the sun rises in the sky and they are both breathless and smiling and hopeful for the future. Because one day they’ll rule the world. 

[blog-reflection]

One / Four - Screaming Lights

[Phone vibration]

It is 8 o'clock in the morning. I got woken up by my phone buzzing somewhere in my bed. I was unable to figure out the exact location of it, which led me to believe that it's buried under my pillows. It took a while but I did managed to grab my phone. The screen displayed 8:50 in the morning which meant that I've been looking around for a solid 5 minutes. I turned off the alarm and glanced towards my tablet. This tablet is the most important thing in my life. I mean, I have everything on it. Time table, Backups from almost everything, my passcodes, the support Mail for the registrations, you name it. I opened the time table which had one thing scheduled for today. Registration.Great, I couldn't think of anything more fun than to register dozens of students that are attending the school all over the UK south side. Well, seems like I have some stuff to do, so better get started right?

I unwrapped myself out of the blanket, grabbed an oversized shirt and walked downstairs. Mildret was already at work, so I had time for myself. I put on my headphones,and fired up my spotify right before I opened the app for the registration. I realized I haven’t had a proper meal since I’m back from my grandparents, so I decided to make myself some breakfast. I danced through the entire kitchen while mixing the batter for some pancakes, including me almost letting loose of the bowl and spilling batter everywhere. But I saved it, more or less in a gentle way, but I kept the mess low. I spilled the batter in the buttered pan and baked them till they were soft and golden. Pancake after pancake was flying through the kitchen until one after another was piled up on the plate. I opened all the cupboards panicking that we’ve run out of syrup. That was when I found the syrup which I dropped down onto my pancakes. I also reached for the blueberries to finish off the plate. I went upstairs and left the mess in the kitchen for later.

At my room, I shut the curtains and turned on my fairy lights while eating my pancakes and registering people on my bed. Today I worked on Truham Grammer and Higgs. It's weird to read those names all over again when you stayed in that school for about 2 years. I can picture almost everything. I dropped school after year 13 and started working in jobs that are even more cruel than the one I have right now. Jesse was the one who gave me this very job, which I’m really thankful for. I was bragging how much I've hated all the jobs before and personally I think they just got annoyed. They have known I'm pretty good with keeping everything in order and signing stuff up so they asked around. Turns out no one wanted this job so they were quite desperate to have someone who works for them. On the bright side, I can work from home and I have chances to get to all southern schools in the UK if I can't do it from home. The salary isn't amazing but I have my own cloud that I can do the way I want. 

I also managed to program my second tablet only for this, while the other is my “private” one. In case it wasn’t obvious, yes I freaking love touch displays and couldn't imagine anything else or working with anything else. It allows me to easily set up everything without spending ages on one single person. 

I wonder. How are days at Truham now? I know that they've struggled to find a new headboy after the last one. I know that because they wanted me to be the follow up. But since I already knew that I wouldn’t stay for my finals I had to say no. And yes I’f I wouldn’t change schools I would like to be headboy. As headboy you can at least feel like you have some influence on what happens around you. I glanced at my clock on the wall, 11am. Usually, I would already finish one class but today I’m rather slow. I don’t know why though. I assume this has something to do with what happened yesterday. I still can’t believe that she made such a big thing out of it. Well anyways, getting stuck on thoughts about her won't make me work faster. I decided to call it a shot and get back onto Royal Holloway, one of the prettier places. Royal Holloway feels like an Elite University while looking like it belongs in a fairytale. The registration is already done but no matter how hard I try I still can’t get the liberty sorted. Royal Holloway features a massive, and relatively new, liberty building right in front of the founder’s building. This year, they included a new access app combined with chip-entry. It’s pretty and modern, but apparently it’s not working. Multiple students and faculty members claimed that their entry chip doesn’t work. It’s not *that* big of an issue but it can be really annoying. Mostly because the faculty members in the liberty have to be ready to open the doors for anyone who can’t get in.  However, Julie Sanders, the principal of the school, mentioned that “it is a big security issue, which has to be dealt with as soon as possible”. I understand her, and she’s more than right. It's just not an easy code. I mean I could just walk right to the tech student’s but then I’d be depressed. I want to achieve the goal myself, no matter how hard I try. I told her it’s going to take some time since the stuff we use is hightech and difficult to mess with, which she understood. But I promised her that it’s done by Christmas-Break! She did not like that timeline since it’s still 3 months but I try to get it done earlier. 

I booted up the access app and streamed it to my monitor, which is also usable by touch. Lot’s of numbers and lights that scream in an unknown language something like “help me” and “end my suffering”. I bet that some of these sven send out morse code which literally translates to that. It’s like taking a look into what could be a digital version of a brain and I wonder. Do I have light’s in my head that scream and blick all the time? I cough because I was laughing at my own imagination before taking a closer look. Who am I kidding? I have no Idea what this is, nor what I’m doing or supposed to do. All I do is look up youtube and copy them step by step. But at this point in time, I gave up. I emailed the support and have been waiting for an answer ever since. I turned off all the tech stuff and took a look out my window. It was a nice gray and cozy day, perfect for a cup of tea. I went downstairs to get the kettle on fire, when I realized that the kitchen is still a mess. I fired up the kettle and started cleaning. It was at that very moment, I noticed Mildret arriving. There are multiple things that could happen now.

She comes up and murders me

She starts yelling

She cries and walks outside

She doesn't care and just walks back to the living room 

Just chucks something at me.

I was surprised when she just didn’t give a damn and went upstairs. I mean she gave me the look of a really disappointed mother but that’s it? That’s when all of a sudden, I hear loud noises coming from upstairs.

What the hell is she doing?

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 52: Tattoos

When he left the Wizarding World, Harry hadn't thought too much about what would happen to Draco Malfoy after he testified for him at his trial.

If pressed, he probably would have assumed that Malfoy would have continued in his father's footsteps. He would have imagined well tailored suits and robes, long blonde hair, the same aristocratic nose tipped in the air.

So, perhaps his jaw all but hitting the floor when he saw the other man for the first time in five years was understandable.

And it wasn't the fact that he was walking into the muggle bar that Harry worked at that shocked him, it was the fact that Malfoy had trimmed his hair short on the sides and left the top long; it was that he'd dyed it hot pink.

It was the fact that his left arm had a muggle tattoo covering the dark mark that had once been there with beautiful, bright flowers; new life coming out of death. It was the dragon tattoo peaking out of the collar of his shirt, that Harry guessed, was shaped around his namesake constellation.

It was the loose, black v-neck, muggle t-shirt tucked into skinny jeans that were cuffed just above his ankles. And the three earrings in the cartilage at the top of his right ear.

It was that he looked nothing like the stiff, tidy, pretentious twat that Harry would have envisioned him growing into and it made Harry wonder what else he was wrong about.

Malfoy caught sight of him a few second later and literally froze in place.

"What can I get you?" Harry asked, giving him a little smile.

"Sorry," Malfoy said, cocking his head uncertainly, "You look like someone I used to know."

(Read more below the cut)

And that was fair, too, Harry supposed. He didn't look anything like the scrawny, desperate teen he'd been the last time Malfoy saw him, either. Harry had grown a good six inches since then, his shoulders had filled out, he'd grown his hair long because the curls were less messy that way, he'd grown a beard that he kept short and tidy, and he had a few tattoos of his own. "You look like someone I used to know, too," he replied, "But you can't possibly be the same person that I thought I knew and I'm sure that I'm not quite what you thought either." He tilted his head at Malfoy, "What can I get you?" he repeated.

"What would you recommend?" Malfoy asked as he slid into a bar stool with a touch more caution than Harry liked.

"Do you like sweet drinks?" he asked, "I have this cotton candy drink that we make with cranberry juice and raspberry vodka," then he added, "And cotton candy, obviously."

"That would definitely be something I've never tried before," Malfoy replied with a little smile.

"Done." While Harry was making the drink he said, "So what brings you so far from home?"

Malfoy cocked his head, "I left home ages ago," he said. "Disowned, as a matter of fact."

Harry frowned as he reached under the bar to fetch the cotton candy, "What? Why?"

Harry saw him lift one shoulder casually before having to stick his head into the cupboard below to reach the bag of cotton candy in the back, "Apparently, Malfoys are allowed to make all sorts of mistakes and commit all sorts of atrocities, but being gay was just one step too far for them."

Harry bashed the back of his head against the bar in his haste to stand up, "Wait, you're-?" he started before registering just how badly that had hurt, "Ouch, fuck," he said, rubbing the back of his skull.

"Here," Malfoy murmured, holding out his hand, "Let me."

Harry leaned over and Malfoy gently cupped the back of his head and murmured something under his breath. A moment later a warm, tingly feeling suffused Harry's head and all of the pain disappeared.

"Wow," Harry said, rubbing the back of his skull again and feeling for any tender spots, "That was amazing."

Malfoy shrugged and Harry went back to working on the drink. "I was training to be a healer," he confessed softly so no one would overhear, "But then I had one too many people refuse to let me help them because of-" he broke off and shook his head, "Well you know."

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Harry said with a frown as he slid the drink across the bar. He was about to say more when Ben, one of his regulars, came up to the bar for a refill, "Hold that thought," he said, making his way over to get him another bourbon.

"This," Malfoy said, pointing to the drink Harry had made him when he returned a few minutes later, "Is actually quite tasty, Potter."

He laughed, "No need for the tone of surprise, this has been my job for nearly five years now. And you can call me, Harry," he added.

The corner of Draco's mouth tilted up, "Oh I can, can I?"

Harry nodded, "And I think I'll be calling you Draco."

"Bold of you," he said but he was smiling so Harry didn't take him too seriously.

"Gryffindor," he replied, pointing to himself with a wink. "So tell me about yourself, Draco," he said.

And to his surprise and utter delight, Draco did. He sat at the bar, sipping that martini before switching over to lemonade, all evening, telling Harry about his life and asking questions about Harry in turn.

One things led to another and by the time Harry was getting ready to leave, Harry was really not ready for the night to end.

"Can I walk you home?" Draco asked, apparently he wasn't ready for it to end either.

Harry smiled at him and nodded toward his house, they set off down the street talking about nothing. He only lived a few blocks away and they found themselves standing at the bottom of Harry's steps all too soon.

"Will you punch me if I kiss you?" Draco asked him.

Harry shook his head with a smile he couldn't quite hide, and leaned forward to meet Draco halfway. The moment their lips met, Harry's veins felt like they'd been set on fire. He reached out and clasped the fabric of Draco's t-shirt in his hands and pulled him forward, crashing their bodies together.

"Come inside," Harry begged against Draco's lips.

Draco pulled back, brow furrowed slightly, "You want this? With me?"

"Godric, yes," he groaned. "Please."

The other man gave him a breathless little smile and Harry dragged him up the stairs and straight to the bedroom.

Afterward, Harry got up to order them some pizza and when he returned, Draco was laid on his back on the bed, his pink hair fanned out across the pillow, Harry couldn't help but think that his body looked more gorgeous than any work of art he'd ever seen. And Harry sat up beside him admire him better, "I thought this one was your constellation," he murmured triumphantly, stroking his fingers over the dragon that curled over his collarbone and up his neck.

"Well spotted," Draco said, a smile in his voice.

He brushed his fingers over the snitch on Draco's chest, "I've got one of these, too," he murmured, leaning a bit so Draco can see the snitch he has on his own hip.

"Yes, I noticed," Draco replied, giving him a little smirk, "What does it say under it?"

"I open at the close," Harry said.

Draco hummed, "You'll have to tell me the story sometime."

"I'd like that," Harry told him, surprised to find that it was true since he'd never wanted to talk to anyone about the war. He trailed his fingers over the flower that had been tattooed over Draco's heart. "For your mum?" he asked.

He gave him a sad smile and nodded, "The black narcissus."

"These are for my parents," he told him, pointing to the antlers adorned with lilies along his collarbones.

"What are these ones?" he asked, trailing his fingers over the Marauder's map style footprints on his bicep and shoulder.

"These," he said, twisting to show Draco that they wrapped around his shoulder and onto his back, "are names of the people who have held me up, some of them still living, and others who live on in me." He grinned at him, "I'll show you the map they're modeled after the next time I have it out."

"Do you have any others?"

"Yeah," Harry said, collapsing onto his back so he could show Draco his ankle, "Deathly Hallows on my ankle."

Draco's fingers brushed lightly over his skin and Harry's spine tingled pleasantly.

"Do you have others?" he echoed

He nodded and rolled over onto his stomach and Harry had to hold back a gasp, "Beautiful," he whispered, trailing his fingers lightly over the wings covering Draco's shoulder blades.

"They're to remind me that I am free. I made my choice to fly instead of staying shackled."

"They're beautiful," Harry repeated.

Draco reached back and pointed to his neck and Harry's eyes followed to a compass. "To remind me that I choose the direction of my life from here on out."

"I love that," Harry replied, flopping back down on the bed next to Draco. "I'm planning my next one."

"Oh?" Draco asked, turning his head to the side and resting it on his forearms so he could look at Harry.

Harry nodded, "A constellation as well, Sirius, and wolfsbane incorporated somehow."

"Are all of yours for people, then?"

"Yeah," he replied, about to say more when the doorbell rang. "That'll be the pizza. Do you want to eat in here or in the kitchen?" he asked as he stood up and started looking for a pair of pants to put on to answer the door

"I should go-"

"Draco," he said, leaning in and stealing another kiss, "Stay. Please."

"For how long?" Draco asked.

The doorbell rang again and Harry stumbled into his boxers, "For as long as you want. Stay forever if you like."

And he was surprised to find that he was only half joking.

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Please go look at this GORGEOUS art by @pato-roldnart. I'm completely in awe of how talented they are. It's just like I imagined it and I am totally in love!

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Day 51: Parents | Day 53: First Anniversary

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Of something beautiful, but annihilating🚬5/end

Warnings: nonconsensual touching, fingering, deceptive behaviour, allusions to abuse, blood, violence/death, fucking.

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Note: Another finale! Hahahhaa, hope you like it!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You went to bed with shame burning in your cheeks but the heat quickly travelled to your loins as you thought of the scene at the drive-in. When you closed your eyes, you felt Arvin’s weight on you and his hand between your legs. You rolled onto one side, then the other, tossing and turning as you couldn’t escape the memory or the lingering sensation of his touch.

He was already downstairs when you woke up, a lazy Saturday morning as the garage was closed for the weekends. He was at the counter, boiling water for the coffee as you came down in a plain peach dress and flats. He looked over his shoulder and smiled at you, urging you to sit.

“I’m gonna make you breakfast, honey,” he announced as he filled the coffee press, “you know, my ma was a waitress. Worked down at this greasy diner when she met my dad. Before she died…” he stopped and his throat bobbed, “I dunno, I just remember the smell of her cookin’.”

“I’m sorry, Arvin,” you said as you took a seat at the table, “about your mother.”

“Why? It was so long ago, I hardly remember,” he shrugged as he searched the cupboards and pulled out the cast iron pan, “you know, I can barely even see my pa in my mind. Even when I really think. I feel like I’ve lived a dozen lifetimes already.” He put the metal to the burner, “but I think I found the one I want.”

You ran your fingertips along your throat nervously as you leaned your elbows on the table. You felt the void left by your missing wedding ring. You clapped your hands together and lowered them to the wood.

You watched him work in the kitchen. When you tried once to get up and help, he bid you back down tersely and you obliged. You felt restless sitting there as someone else did everything. He put a cup of coffee before you and sipped from his own between flipping the eggs.

Finally, he presented you with a plate of hash, egg, toast, and bacon. You thanked him as he sat and you picked up your fork and knife. You weren’t very hungry, the anxiety squeezed your stomach as you watched his hand. He buttered a slice and you recalled the tingle as his fingers sank into you.

You dropped your fork and apologised for the loud clang. You picked it back up and pushed the potato around. You were trying to think of what to say. Of how to say it. Arvin wasn’t volatile like Roy but he showed glimmers of anger that troubled you nonetheless.

“Last night…” you began.

“You liked it?” he perked up and swallowed, “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Arvin,” you uttered.

“I just… you’re so wonderful and warm, I never known a woman like you,” he ranted, “and I… I never been with a woman, you know? I hope I didn’t leave you wanting--”

“Arvin,” you said more firmly, “I’m married.”

His face fell and he leaned back in his chair. He looked down as he scooped up some egg and hash and shoved it in his mouth. He chewed tight-lipped. His steely silence was worse than any punch. You shoved some yolk in your mouth and chewed.

“I…” you began, “I’m not meaning to upset you but we can’t just pretend--”

A deafening bang sounded and shook the house. Your breath caught as you looked at Arvin with wide eyes and he cleared his throat as he stood.

“Where is ya, boy?” Roy hollered as another blast came and you heard the door jolt. You rose and looked down the hall as slivers decorated the floor below the holes peppered in the wood. “I heard about you and my wife…” footsteps clamoured up the steps of the porch, “you think you can pull a gun on me? Well, I got a bigger one, boy!”

“Shit,” Arvin pulled you back as another gunshot blew out the handle, “go, hide.”

He shoved you away and turned back to the table. He tossed the butter knife and hurried to the counter. He pulled out a drawer and took out a steak knife. He shook his head and glanced over at you again.

“Go on,” he snarled.

“No, you,” you ran to him and touched his arm, “go, I’ll talk to him--”

“He’ll kill you,” he whispered.

“No, he won’t,” you assured, “he woulda done it years ago, Arvin, go.”

You pointed him to the back door and he shook his head. You met his eyes as he glanced back at you and you nodded. 

“It’ll be fine, I’ll get him gone and come find you when he goes,” you promised, “Arvin, I can’t see you die because of me.”

His eyes searched your face and he touched your cheek. “Alright, honey,” he breathed, “you know I’ll do anything for you, don’t you?”

“Go,” you insisted as the door flew inward with a heavy kick.

Arvin scrambled away and the back door creaked in his stead as you turned to near the doorway and peer past the staircase. Roy kept the double barrel level as he pointed it at you. You quivered but tried not to show your terror.

“Roy,” you greeted through your tight throat.

“You whore,” he cocked the gun and you flinched, “I oughta shoot your fuckin’ head off too, but I just want the boy. Where is he?”

“I… I dunno, he just went out front, I thought you woulda seen him,” you lied as you filled the doorframe with your body, realising the table set for two would give away your deception.

“Don’t you be hidin’ him from me, you’re still my wife,” Roy snarled as you came closer, trying to keep him from the kitchen, “and I’m gonna put down that punk and remind you who I am. Who you are.”

“I am your wife, Roy,” you said evenly, “I can never forget that, now please, lower the gun, I’ll help you find him.”

“I ain’t believe you, you let him beat me--”

“What was I supposed to do?” you touched the metal muzzle, “he been keepin’ me here. He has a gun too, you know that.” You slid past the barrel and hesitantly reached to touch his chest, “I been so scared without you here, you’re my husband, Roy, and I love--”

He sputtered and flinched suddenly. The gun sagged and fired into the floorboards beside your shoes. The metal slid from his grasp and fell down smoking as a red splotch stained the dingy fabric of his shirt. The cascade spread as he staggered and you saw the wooden handle of the steak knife stick out from his side.

Arvin pulled the blade out as you tripped over the gun and toppled to the floor. Roy slumped to his knees as the younger man brought the knife down over his shoulder and sank it into his heart. Your lungs puffed with panic at the sickly crunch as the blade twisted between his ribs.

Your eyes widened and blurred with tears as bitterness filled your stomach. You opened your mouth and screamed as Roy fell onto his stomach and gasped out his last breaths. You felt a slickness on your cheek as a hand touched you and an arm wrapped around you. You blinked and Arvin came clear as he held the knife against your face and pulled you into his lap to cradle you.

“Wh--wh--wh--” you babbled as your eyes found your husband, completely still across the floorboards.

“He can’t hurt you no more,” Arvin cooed as he rocked you, “I heard him, he said he was gon’ shoot you. I told you, honey, I’ll do anything for you. Anything to keep you safe.”

🚬

The porcelain was cold against your body as you sat in the tub, the hot water slowly rose around you. Arvin shoved your bloody clothes in a bag and took off his own. He tied up the sack, his hands still tinged scarlet. He put the bundle in the sink and neared the wall of the footed tub.

You watched him step over the side, his stomach tightly muscles, his figure much more slender than Roy’s, though his arms were thick and his shoulders wide. He lowered himself across from you as he sat with his back to the flowing faucet. The water deepened and scalded your skin.

He took a cloth and scrubbed your face, your neck, your chest above the surface of the water. You were numb as you felt itchy, as if bugs crawled over every inch of flesh. He stood you up and finished washing you. He was gentle but firm, lingering around your curves as his brown eyes drank you in.

He took a new cloth for himself and after wiping off the droplets across his face and rinsing his body, he scratched the red from around his nails. You shivered as he helped you out of the tub and hugged you in a towel. He led you to the bed and laid you down under the quilt.

“Gonna drive out and find a ditch,” he said as he dressed. “Finish cleaning when I get back. Probably need another bath then.”

You said nothing as you stared at the ceiling, a searing white.

“Honey,” he neared and pressed his hand to your forehead, “I know you’re shook. He tried to kill ya. We both heard him say it.”

You looked at him and your eyes dampened. He bent and pecked your lips and retracted his hand reluctantly.

“I’ll try not to be too long,” he promised and pulled on his denim jacket.

He left you and you listened to his footsteps fade. You closed your eyes and saw Roy’s blood spilling forth like a tainted river. You could hear the scraping as he was dragged across the wood, Arvin’s grunts as you watched him struggle to roll your husband’s large body in a sheet.

Your lashes flicked open but the picture is painted vivid in your mind. You hear the car and the engine fades into the soft sway of trees and the noise of critters in the grass. You don’t have the strength to do more than lay there. Time passes by your stagnant eyes and the shadows set in from the corner of the room. The windows darkened and deepened your gloom.

Arvin startled you as he appeared at the door. You didn’t hear the approach of his car or his footsteps on the stairs. He neared and kissed you again. He pulled the chain on the lamp and it cast a yellow haze over you.

“You’re awake,” he said as he stood straight, “I needa wash up again.” You hummed and stayed as you were, “you want tea?”

You shook your head and he watched you. He clamped his thin lips together and backed away.

“Found his truck, just down the way,” he pulled his grey tee over his head, “looks like he drove out to the river, walked up here. Make sure it was seen so he can’t be traced up here. Smarter than he looked.” Arvin bent to untie his boots. “I left it in the water, put it into gear and let it drift off.”

You rolled onto your side and pulled the blanket to your ear. He quieted as you listened to the rustle of his clothing as he stripped it away.

“Anyhow, they won’t find him,” he said, “likely he told whoever, if anyone even cared, that he was goin’ fishin’.”

He waited for an answer but didn’t get it. He went into the bathroom and you heard the pipes rattle as he twisted on the faucet. You felt the dampness cross the hallway and seep into the room. When he returned, he gave a sigh and tossed his towel over the old chair sat by your vanity.

He folded the blanket back and you closed your eyes at his nudity. He slid in next to you and tugged the blanket over his shoulders. He circled his arm around you and brought your body against his. Suddenly, you felt everything as you were set alight by the heat of his flesh.

“Honey,” he said softly as he framed your face with his hand, “I’m here. You’re safe with me.”

You quivered and pushed your hands to his chest. You’d never been naked with another man, never seen another man naked. In the tub, you hardly figured what was happening but then, it was all too real as you felt his cock twitch against your thigh.

“Didn’t I save you? He would killed both of us,” he rasped, “honey, I know, I’ve met so many men like him…” he rubbed his nose against yours, “and killed every one of them.”

You winced and your fingers curled into his shoulders. He smothered you with a kiss as his hand trailed down and he cupped your chest. He groaned as he fondled you, tilting his hips to rub his dick against you. He rolled your nipple under his thumb as he dragged his lips down your cheek and chin.

His hand crept around your side as he slipped lower to nibble your breasts. Roy never touched you like that. Early on he was clumsy but impatient, and after a while, he was thankless and cruel. Arvin was gentle, doting and diligent. He suckled at your bud and the tugging plucked at your core.

“Mmm,” he left a path of spit down your stomach as he nudged you onto your back, “honey, you’re so beautiful,” he disappeared beneath the blanket and pushed your legs apart as he nuzzled your pelvis, his hot breath tickling your patch of hair.

He purred as nosed your cunt and his tongue dipped between your folds. You murmured and reached down to grasp his damp hair. You brought your thighs against his head and arched your back as he tended to you, slow and scintillating as he filled you with a yearning you’d never known before.

You didn’t think as you tangled your fingers in his locks and tilted your pelvis against his lapping. You shouldn’t feel this way, should feel so good. Your husband was dead and there was another man in your bed. You were a whore, just as he said. But it felt good and he wasn’t there to tell you again.

Arvin moaned as he devoured you, his hands hungrily groped your ass as he lifted you slightly from the bed. He pushed a finger against your entrance and eased into you. You gasped and he dipped another inside of you. He moved his hand in time with his mouth, his groans rumbling through you.

You hooked your legs under his arm and cried out as you came. Your body spasmed and jerked and you rode out the shattering ascent. You shook as you stilled and kissed your thighs with his wet lips, smearing your juices across your flesh. 

You panted as he pushed himself up and the blanket fell down his back, leaving both your bodies bare to the soft glow of the lamp. His hands roved over your body and he bent again, kissing every inch his fingertips danced over first. He brought his lips back to yours and you tasted the sweetness as he forced his tongue into your mouth.

He pushed his thighs to yours so your legs bent around them, wide and welcoming. He parted and stared down at you, his deep brown eyes swallowing you up.

“The moment I saw you, I knew,” he said as he caressed your cheek, “and I haven’t stopped thinking of this ever since that moment.”

“Arvin,” you sighed and touched his wrist.

“I’ll take care of you, honey,” he reached down between your bodies as he planted and elbow into the pillow. He ran his tip along your wet folds and his jaw clenched. “I’ll keep you safe, I’ll keep you…” he pressed against you until his tip was inside you, “forever.”

“Arvin,” you gulped and gripped his muscled arms, “I…”

“He’s gone,” he sank further into you and kissed you again, “and you’re mine.”

You moaned and he bottomed out with a gasp. His body tensed and he shuddered as he wiggled his hips.

“God, you’re so perfect,” he groaned, “so warm, so… sweet. Oh, honey.”

“Please…” you croaked as your eyes watered.

You didn’t know if it was the bloodiness of the day or that you’d never felt anything so pleasant, so gentle, so caring. You didn’t know why you were crying or why your body buzzed like cicadas under the moon. You pushed your head into the pillow as he pressed his fingers to your clit and rubbed in time with his steady thrusts.

“Honey,” he droned and kissed your wet cheek between each stroke, “oh, you’re so nice.”

He tilted into you over and over. You brought your legs around him and hooked your arms under his as you clawed at his back. Your body contorted with his as your eyes rolled back and you succumbed to the stolid heat coursing through your veins. You cried out and let your hands fall down as you groped his ass, begging for more.

The bed quaked as he grew more fervent in his appetite, the pain was dulled by the sheer bliss and you sang out your delight. There was nothing but his body and that radiating pulse in your core. You came again and again as you whined ravenously and dug your nails into his flesh.

He jerked into you with a fluttery breath. His hips stuttered and he fell limp over you. His head hung over your shoulder as he huffed. His cum coated your walls in a salacious heat and you ran your hands up his back. He turned his head to kiss your temples, tears still rolling down to your lobes.

As your nerves stilled and the afterglow dimmed, reality shrouded you once more. The body over yours felt heavier as you were paralysed against the bed. Arvin drew you with him as he rolled onto his side and held you. It was nice but tinged with the horror wrought by his hands.

You didn’t miss Roy but you didn’t feel free either.

🚬

Arvin rolled out the rug over the bloodstain in the hall, the whole covered over  with a thin board of scrap. You watched and clutched your purse then checked the clock. He stood and neared to fetch his jacket from the small square corner table. He pulled it over the button-up that once belonged to your dad and the tie that was Roy’s.

His hair was combed back tidily and he wore a carefree smile. His eyes twinkled as he offered his hand and gestured to the door. The frame was curtained with a sheet as the shredded wood was removed and another would be ordered from Tim’s Hardware. He clung to your hand as he followed you out into the Sunday sunlight.

“We don’t have to go,” you said as he swung your hand and led you to the Chevrolet, “I know you don’t like it.”

“Nah, we should go to church,” he smiled and spun you to kiss you. He held your face between your hands as his lips lingered overly long. “Let the lord and all the other holy people see me and my girl.”

“Arvin,” you shied away.

He reached past you and opened the door. You sat and he gripped the metal as he looked down at you.

“I will keep my hands to myself before the lord,” he avowed, “I only ask his blessing for what I know to be his work.”

You considered him and wrung the short strap of your purse, “I thought you didn’t believe in God.”

“I didn’t, not before,” he said with a smile, “not ‘til I met you. His most precious angel.”

You chewed your lip and turned your face down. He chuckled and closed the door. He got in the driver’s side and the engine rolled over. His hand wandered over to your lap as he steered with one hand. You looked out the window and stared up at the pale blue sky.

You didn’t believe in God. You couldn’t. Just like your father said, a benevolent lord would not gift such suffering to his creation. There was no all-knowing being sitting in the clouds, no glorious purpose for you or any other. There were only devilish men and their dark deeds.

[libraryofloveletters]

also. 15+16 with eddie fluff/comfort including chris because he’s adorable

You Feel Like Home

Eddie Diaz x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of alcohol

Prompts: #15: “Did you let yourself in?” // #16: “How did you get in my house?”

Category: fluff

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: here’s a lil something because I haven’t posted a x reader in so long. Also I didn’t check for errors cause I'm lazy so ignore any mistakes :) 

----

It’s raining, the streets were drenching with water and muck which you found yourself staring at as you sat in your car at the intersection.

You had left your job, more like you were fired for something you didn’t do but you hated your job, 100 and 10% despited it and everyone there- needless to say, you didn’t mind not being there anymore.

The shitty weather on top of the idea of having to find a new job was putting more than damper on your day. So here you were in the middle of the day driving to your best friend’s house. He doesn't like to admit that he’s your best friend but he is and you both knew that.

The driveway was empty and the house was dark, at least from what you could see. Hopping out of the car, you make your way to the front door, the rain drenching your clothing. The key to his house hanging from the bunch you held in your hand, you let yourself in.

“Anyone home?” shouting into the dark house, slipping off your shoes.

There was no answer, you assumed Eddie was at work and Chris was still at school which made sense considering it was 2:30 on a Friday afternoon.

A puddle of water trialed behind you on your way to the bathroom, stopping to get a towel from the cupboard. The wet clothes get stripped off and tossed into the tub, making a mental note to come back and put them in the dryer after you get something to wear.

The towel now wrapped around you, you find your way down the hallway and into Eddie’s bedroom. There was a basket of folded laundry on the bed, deciding that it’s probably better to get something from the basket than to tumble through his drawers.

Just as you go to drop the towel, you hear the front door open and then a woman’s voice.

“Shit shit shit” you mumble to yourself and look around the room frantically- there’s no way you could get dressed before the person gets to the room, you have no choice but you stay the way you are.

The footsteps approaching the room, a knock on the door before it opens, Carla sticks her head in the room and you let out a breath of relief.

“Jesus, it’s just you” sitting on the bed, you smile at her and she laughs softly.

“Who’d you think it was hun?”

“I thought Eddie had come home, with a woman. That would have been hard to explain- ya know, a woman in a towel in his bedroom while he’s not home.”

“Mhm hm,” Carla has one of her famous mischievous looks on her face. “Sure, because it’s normal for you to be half naked in his bedroom when he isn't home.” She laughs.

“Were you waiting for him?” she teased, your face twists and you groan.

“Carla! No, god. I had a shitty day and I wanted to hang out. It was raining cats and dogs when I got here and my clothes got wet.” you explain what happened and she gives you a hum, stepping back out and leaving you to change.

You can hear laughter coming from the bedroom down the hall, you make your way there. Chris sat on his bed, looking out his window while he was on the phone.

“Love you too dad, bye” the phone is set beside him on the bed, you knock on the door and Chris looks back, his face lighting up when he sees you.

“Hey kiddo” smiling at the boy who’s now making his way over to you, you step into the room and meet him halfway.

“Hi! What are you doing here?” he asks you, hugging you.

“Came by to see your dad but he wasn’t home. I’m better now because you’re free” looking down at him, Christopher laughs and holds your hand as the two of you walk down the hallway to the living room. Carla brings him a snack and joins the two of you in the living room, Christopher telling you both about his day at school.

----

Eddie runs to the front door from his truck, the rain had been pouring all day.

“I’m home!” he shouts, as he steps in only for Carla to shush him from the kitchen.

His face screws and he makes his way down the hallway to Christopher’s room but he wasn't in there. Carla sat in the kitchen reading her book, she smiles when he steps in the kitchen.

“Hey, where’s Chris ?” he asks, washing his hands and pulling a pot out of the cupboard.

“Shower,” shutting the book, she slips it into her bag. “You’re going ?” Eddie glances over his shoulder, pouting slightly. Carla always helps him with dinner and truthfully, she’s the better cook out of the two.

“I’ve got myself a hot date tonight” She tells him, giving him a smile before making her way to the front door.

Eddie follows her, “what? really? But who’s going to keep me company while Chris does his homework ?” his hand coming up to his chest as he sighs dramatically.

Carla’s hand meets his, patting his chest. “Chris is done with his work, he had help” nodding towards the couch, Eddie follows her gesture to see you sleep on the couch.

“When did- are those my clothes ?” his mouth hung in disbelief.

Why were you asleep on his couch in his clothes ? He wasn't even home, how the hell did you get in ?

“Mhm hm” Carla hums, a soft laugh slipping past her lips. “Have fun sugar, I'll be back in the morning. Tell lil man I said bye” She steps out, pulling the door shut behind her.

The pattering of feet pulled Eddie’s attention away from a sleeping you on the couch.

“Dad!” Chris’s smile lit up the room, Eddie found himself smiling at his son.

“Hey buddy” he kneeled to hug him, holding him close after a long day at work.

“How was work ?” Christopher asks his father as the two make their way to the kitchen.  

“It was a fine, normal day of us saving the city” Eddie chuckled, smiling at his son who was sitting at the table now. “Hey bud?”

“Mhm hm ?”

“When did y/n get here?”

“I don’t know, she was here when me and Carla got home” he shrugs, turning his attention back to something Eddie had left out on the table.

Eddie is half way into the fridge and it was down to its bare bones. A carton of milk, two eggs left in a tray and a half used stick of butter - guess he had forgotten to go grocery shopping yesterday.

“How does pizza for dinner sound?” Eddie turns to Chris who’s nodding eagerly. Pizza was the way to that kid’s heart.

---

dinner was short, the boys talked about their day. Chris told his father all about his day at school and how they learned about the atmosphere and space in science class and Eddie told him about a resume they had today - the safe for work details of course, he always left out the gruesome parts.

“So Carla told me y/n helped with your homework ?”

“Yeah, I only had math work to do. It was easy”

Eddie hums, it was still relatively early and a Friday afternoon, he thought why not have a movie night.

“Here’s the plan for tonight, you tidy up your room real quick and then we can build a fort and have movie night. How does that sound ?”

“Like a plan!” he smiles at Eddie before getting up. Eddie sits at the table watching Chris make his way into the hallway and towards the bathroom.

The sound of a snore brought him back to reality, he remembered you were still on the couch asleep. He quietly got up and made his way over, crouching in front of the couch.

You looked at peace, which was strange to him because the two of you are always bickering or poking each other about something. The only times he had seen you smile was if someone made fun of him or if you were with Chris - he had never actually seen you relaxed.

“Take a picture and leave or I'm filing a restraining order” you mumble sleepily. Eddie laughed, you were always teasing him about his stare.

Eddie stands, lifting your legs and sitting before dropping them down onto his lap. “How did you get in my house? Did you let yourself in?”

“I used the key” rolling onto your jacket, you shift upwards slightly. The disapproval on Eddie’s face was very much visible.

“I gave you that key for emergencies!”

“It was an emergency!”

Eddie sighs, his hand rubbing the piece of bare skin showing from the rolled up pants. The room is quick, the sound of the rain pouring echoed through the house.

“What’s on your mind ? I can practically see the wrinkles forming on your face”

“Hey!” you nudged him with your foot while he laughed. “Nothing,” sitting up to face him properly. “I just had a shitty day and wanted to see my bes- my friend.”

A small smile appeared on his face. “Your what ?” “Shut up Eddie”

“No no, say it” he grabs your foot, his fingers reaching to the sole of your foot. Your eyes widen, shaking your head. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh but I do” he smirks before tickling the bottom of your foot. You try to pull your foot away but you’re laughing and wiggling around on the couch so much that you end up rolling off but your foot is still on Eddie’s lap.

There you were lying diagonally off the couch with your feet on his lap. He shifts to the floor, now sitting beside you. The two of you have your backs up against the couch.

“Seriously, talk to me. What’s up ?”

“Just wanted some company. Work was shitty and I- I don’t know. I didn’t know where to go. There’s nothing waiting for me at my place, the weather’s kinda depressing so I didn’t want to go drinking because it would just make me sad” you chuckle, turning your head to face him.

“I got in the car and just drove and I ended up here. This is home, you know? ” you admit. Humming, he smiles.

“I’m glad you felt like you could come here.”

“Well I know you couldn’t kick me out. You love me and my puppy face too much” you pout playfully making his laugh before nudging you with his shoulder.

Eddie’s arm is now over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. “You’re welcomed here anytime.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Tilting your head from his shoulder, you're now face to face with him. There had always been unspoken feelings between the two of you, everyone could see that - even the two of you.

He leans in, a hand cupping your cheek like it was chiseled to fit the curve of your structure perfectly.

The palm of your hand wraps around his wrist, leaning closer to him.

This was the moment you were waiting for.

“DAD!” Chris shouts, causing Eddie to pull away. Not that either of you minded but there does that moment.

“Yeah ?” His hand was still cupping your cheek. “Can we watch a movie now?”

“Of course, pick one out.” He moves his hand to give the remote to Chris, you cheek cold from the loss of touch.

The 3 of you settle into the couch, Christopher between the two of you. The boy settled on Space Jam though he had seen it a million times.

Eddie’s arm is stretched over the back of the couch. It was bent at an awkward position, his fingers barely grazing your cheek, letting you know that he’s right there.

The two of you shared stolen glances all night, watching each other more than the movie. Eventually Chris fell asleep between the two of you.

You felt safe, peaceful, home.

This felt like home.

----- 

taglist: @hailsstormthings @averyhotchner @captainxholmes @advicefromnixxxx @keenmarvellover @beth-winchester21 @fernandaweasley2 @yikesyikesyikes95 @hotchsdarling @duhbar1975 @dralexreid

[drabbles-mc]

Sick Day

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Request by @nessamc​: I saw a picture of Coco wrapped in a blanket and immediately thought of a request idea for Nestor instead of Coco. Can I get a fic where Nestor is sick and is being a big baby about it, so reader has to take care of him?

Warnings: Nestor being a big baby

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: It’s one of my personal fave HCs about Nestor that he’s a total baby when he’s sick. Totally one of those guys who swears he isn’t sick until he’s lowkey dying and then proceeds to be a baby about it. Love that for him.

General Mayans Taglist: @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @queenbeered @kelpies-shed @sesamepancakes @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @gemini0410 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @garbinge @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @kkim120 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99​ @lexondeck​ @mrsstevenbuchananstark​ @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo​ @amorestevens​ @angelreyesisdaddy04​ @mijagif​ @frattsparty​ @winchestershiresauce​ @bellisperennis0​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @mveggieburger​ @thanossexual​ @xeniarocks​ @choochoo284​ @littlekittymeow​ @beardsanddetectives​ (If you want to be added just let me know!)

For a few days, you’d noticed that it seemed like Nestor was starting to come down with something. You’d tried to tell him that he should get a little extra rest, take some vitamins, and just overall keep an eye on himself so it wouldn’t get worse. He waved you off, assuring you that it was nothing, that he never got sick, that if it was anything it was just allergies. You knew that he was a man too stubborn to win that kind of argument against, so you let him do as he pleased. He’d make his own bed, and he’d have to lay in it.

You were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping on your coffee as you scrolled on your phone. You’d gotten out of bed before Nestor, which was incredibly unusual. You figured it meant that all his denial was finally catching up to him, and that whatever was ailing him started to really wear him down. The house was almost silent, so when you heard the shuffling of fabric and the scuffling of feet, you smiled as you kept your attention on the little screen in your hands.

Nestor cleared his throat as he walked into the kitchen, and you knew that he was passively trying to get your attention. Determined not to feed into it, you spoke to him without turning to look at him, “Coffee’s already made if you want some.”

You could hear him sniffling as he paced throughout the kitchen. When you heard the sound of him opening the cupboard, you chanced a look back over your shoulder to see what kind of shape he was in. Immediately you found yourself pressing your lips together in a lame attempt not to smile. Nestor’s hair was down, a big curly mess the way it always got first thing in the morning. You could only see the ends, though, because he had a blanket draped over the top of his head and wrapped around his shoulders like an ill-fitting robe, or the most ridiculous superhero cape you’d ever seen.

“Nes?” you sat there, waiting for him to turn and look at you. When he did, you could see it immediately on his face how he must’ve been feeling, “Oh, baby,” you stood up and walked over to him, gently cupping his face in your hands, “You need to go back to bed.”

“I’m good,” he sounded congested beyond belief—he didn’t even sound like your boyfriend anymore.

You chuckled, shaking your head, “No you’re not,” you pressed your hand to his forehead and shook your head, “Go back and lay down. I’ll pull some stuff together for you.”

“It’s fine,” he sniffled, “Once I have some coffee and shower I’ll be—”

You gave him a light push back towards the hall that lead to the bedroom, “Go back to bed. I’ll make you some tea, pull together some stuff that’ll help make it so you can breathe like a normal human again. You’ll be cured in no time.”

“I’m not that sick.”

Rolling your eyes, you nodded, “Sure you’re not. Now go lay down.”

You couldn’t quite make out the words he was grumbling as he walked away, but surely enough you could hear the receding sounds of his shuffling along the floor. Once you were fairly certain that he was back in bed, you began to grab everything you’d need for his tea.

When it was done, you stood in the bedroom doorway for a moment, his mug of tea cupped carefully in your hands. Nestor was completely wrapped up in the blanket on the bed, looking as small as you’d ever seen him. His head was rested on the pillow, comforter pulled up to his chin. His eyes were shut, breathing steady, but you could still tell that he wasn’t completely asleep. You leaned against the doorway and looked at him, and despite the fact that you hated seeing him sick, there was something wholesome about the sight of him bundled up in bed the way that he was.

Finally crossing the threshold, you made your way over to him. You set the mug on the bedside table before getting situated on the mattress next to him. Leaning back against the headboard, you stretched your legs out in front of you. Even in his sick, exhausted daze, Nestor realized what you were doing and immediately scooted himself over so that he could rest his head in your lap, draping one arm across your thighs. You let out a quiet chuckle as you carefully, lovingly, toyed with his hair. He let out a quiet grumble of contentment as you did, practically melting into your lap.

He let out a deep sigh that turned into him trying to hold back a cough. A small smile crossed your face as you gave his shoulder a gentle shake, “Sit up, Nes. The tea will help with that.”

He groaned but slowly he propped himself up, leaning back against the headboard the same way that you were. He pulled his legs up so that he was sitting cross-legged, blanket still somehow wrapped around his shoulders and draped over him. You smiled as you handed him the mug, watching as he carefully cupped it in his hands. He soaked up the warmth through the ceramic for a few moments before lifting it to his lips and taking a careful sip. His facial features quickly relaxed—clearly he was expecting the tea to taste disgusting since it was supposed to be helpful.

“Not too bad, right?” you asked quietly as you reached over and rested your hand on his knee.

He nodded, taking another sip, “It’s good.”

“Good,” you smiled as you pulled your phone out, “there’s more in the kitchen so I can get you more when you’re done.”

“I can get my own—”

“You need to rest. Let me take care of you for a couple days, will you?”

He let out a mumble of sorts but didn’t argue with you anymore. You chuckled quietly, loving the tired, grumpy man sitting beside you on the bed. Sitting back and letting himself be taken care of wasn’t something that he’d ever been good at, and now he wasn’t being given another option.

As the morning went by, Nestor had another cup of the tea you’d made, before promptly falling back to sleep. You soothingly pushed the hair back out of his face as he laid sprawled out on his stomach on the bed. Even though he filled the room with congested snores, you still adored everything about him.

When Nestor woke up again, he had no idea how long he’d been asleep for. His eyes weren’t completely open yet as he felt around the bed for you. When he realized that you weren’t there, he opened his eyes the rest of the way. Slowly pushing himself up, he took a breath and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He felt a little less exhausted thanks to the nap, but he still felt sick. He knew he wasn’t going to get better in the span of one morning but he still hoped.

Sniffling, he caught the faint scent of something. He assumed that to someone who wasn’t losing the ability to breathe through their nose, it probably smelled great. Whatever it was, was just enticing enough to get him to force himself out of bed, adorning his blanket cape once more. He knew that you were just going to tell him to get back to bed, but he wanted to see what you were up to without having to shout to you from the other end of the house.

You heard him as soon as he stepped out of the bedroom. Not even needing to turn around and face him, you spoke to him as he walked into the kitchen, “It’ll be ready in about ten minutes.”

“What’s it?” he asked as he loomed closer to you and the stove.

You chuckled, glancing over at him for a moment, “Family recipe. Surefire way to get you breathing like a functional human again,” you turned and looked over at him, unable to fight the urge to tenderly cup the side of his face in your palm, “You should be laying down.”

“I’ll lay on the couch,” he started shuffling towards the living room.

You smiled, shaking your head because you knew that was the best you were going to get from him for the time being. He was always clingier and needier than he let on, but when he wasn’t feeling well it intensified tenfold.

When you were done cooking and were bringing over bowls for each of you, Nestor was on the couch, half-dazed as he tried to focus on what he was watching on TV. Setting the bowls on the coffee table in front of you, you sat down and nudged Nestor to let him know that it was time to eat. You were surprised that he hadn’t fallen back to sleep yet, but you assumed that he would as soon as he was done eating.

He curled up with his bowl of soup, and you knew that realistically the last thing he wanted to be doing was eating, but he did it without a fight. The lack of argument was mostly due to the fact that he didn’t have the energy to try and win one against you, but he wasn’t ever going to cop to that.

Both of your bowls were empty, discarded back onto the coffee table. Nestor sat with his head resting against the back of the couch. His eyes were shut as he looked up at the ceiling. You were leaning back against the arm of the couch, legs bent in front of you as you half paid attention to the show that was on. Looking over to Nestor, you saw that he was on the brink of falling back to sleep again. That was fine, but you also knew that if he fell asleep like that, the pain in his neck when he woke up would be atrocious.

Gently nudging him with your foot, you got him to look at you. Offering him a soft smile, you motioned for him to come and lay with you, “C’mere.”

He shook his head as he shifted on the couch, “I don’t wanna get you sick.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head, “I’ll be fine. If I’m not sick now, I’ll be alright. Come lay with me,” you stretched out your legs and positioned yourself so that he could come and lay with you.

He hesitated for a moment, but the thought of being curled up with you while he felt the way he did was too tempting to turn down. With a light sigh, he shimmied his way down to your end of the couch. He positioned himself between your legs and laid his head against your chest. You adjusted the blanket so that it was comfortably draped over the both of you. His eyes drifted shut immediately as he mumbled out a semi-coherent, “I love you.”

Smiling, you pressed a kiss to the edge of his forehead, “I love you too.”

[eloves-writes]

a failed attempt to hate you

(tristan dugray)

a/n: i can only apologise if this writing is terrible, i wrote most of this in the middle of the night hopped up on medication for my disgusting cold. i hope it makes sense. anywho thanks for reading, enjoy, mwah <3

screw mr medina for making you help tristan study. you knew he knew from rory your inherent disdain for him, and it wasn’t your fault he was falling behind therefore not your responsibility to help him (as you had told mr medina last tuesday, with no effect). it was now sunday morning and you held little hope he would actually show up this time; he had somehow managed to cancel on your little study date 6 times already and it had only been 5 days since you were handed this apparently mammoth task. honestly, you didn’t expect him to show up at all, especially not anytime before noon- for which reasons you had made the decision put on your usual lazy sunday morning reading in bed get-up, which included (but was not limited to) an oversized rock concert shirt rory’s friend lane had given you in an attempt to clear her closet of non-christian attire, nothing but underwear underneath since you wouldn’t plan on leaving the comfort of your bedsheets for many hours, and a loose silk scrunchie you accidentally stole from rory keeping your hair out of your eyes. 

your book of choice today was ‘harry potter and the goblet of fire’ , the most recently released chapter of the boy wizard’s adventures at hogwarts. the clock beside you read 9:15 as you comfied yourself for a morning of magic and adventure, which naturally was ended a mere 8 minutes later at 9:23 when the doorbell rang downstairs. you assumed your mother would answer it, but when it rang a second time you remembered your parents had both gone out to watch your sibling’s soccer match and you’d have to get it yourself.

it didn’t even cross your mind to put pants on, or that it may not be the postman at the door, until you opened it to see your very favourite chilton student whose eyes had hastily wandered to your bare legs. typical high school boy, you thought to yourself before your brain actually grasped the situation and kick started into action.

‘tristan. hi.’ you said with a slight shock in your voice.

‘erm, hi. i hope i’m not interrupting anything,’ he smirked, glancing down at your thighs again.

you rolled your eyes so aggressively you hoped mr medina could hear it from wherever he was spending his day, irritating boy-less and free to do whatever he wanted with his time.

‘you’re not,’ you quipped. ‘i just didn’t expect you to actually show up this time. and early may i add, i’m sure we said 11.’

‘we did, but i’ve got plans later so i thought i’d come by earlier and get this over with.’

‘how did you know i didn’t have plans? i might have been busy before 11.’

he pulled a face of amusement and you could swear you saw a hint of sarcasm shining through his eyes too. ‘right. are you done talking now or can i come in?’

‘you can come in, i guess,’ you sighed, closing the door behind him and showing him to the kitchen table. ‘wait here, i’ll go and get my books.’

‘grab some pants whilst you’re at it.’

‘stop talking,’ you called as you walked upstairs.

you came back downstairs a few minutes later fully-clothed and carrying your english notes to see that tristan had wandered from the chair you specifically remembered telling him to sit in, and was instead tracing a finger along the bookcase that stretched across the far wall of your living room. for a moment you just watched him nosey into your life; the framed certificates, the family photos, the 5 tapes of ‘beauty and the beast’ stacked atop of each other because it was your favourite film when you were 9 and practically every living relative had bought you a copy. beside those was a picture of you dressed as princess belle at disneyworld with chocolate ice cream smeared from cheek to cheek, a huge smile plastered between. tristan picked it up and turned to face you.

‘thoroughly adorable. seriously, you should go for this look more often.’

‘ha ha,’ you grimaced, snatching it off him and placing it back on the shelf. ‘are we studying or reminiscing on my past fashion choices?’ 

‘oo, someone’s in a good mood this morning huh,’ he teased. you pulled another face, once again silently cursing mr medina for completely ruining not just your day, but in fact your whole week. by god this boy got more irritating the more time you spent with him- it had only been 10 minutes, but it was 10 minutes longer than you ever previously had or ever wanted to.

 ‘can i get a drink before we start?’ he asked, redirecting the conversation and walking past you back into the kitchen. he began opening various cupboards, searching for a glass. ‘where’s the-’

‘why yes, tristan. you can have a drink,’ you snarked, opening the cupboard behind him with a dramatic flourish. he raised his eyebrows at you and reached forward to grab a glass, leaning over you as he did so. you caught a whiff of his cologne and almost forgot to dislike him for a moment.

‘there’s, um, soda in the ... fridge,’ you told him, voice unwillingly faltering as he looked down to meet your eyes. he had pretty eyes. pretty, blue, sparkling, stupid, annoying, asshole eyes. 

you found the thick tension sickening. you refused to be another girl at school who simply swooned over him when he walked past your locker. you didn't like him. you were here to teach him english. because he was dumb. and actually, his eyes weren’t that nice.

he grabbed a soda out of the fridge and you both sat down at the table and began reading through your analysis of ‘to kill a mockingbird’, adamantly pretending not to see him staring at you the whole time. 

why? he had had every popular and pretty girl in the whole of chilton, how was he ever so starved of female attention that he would look at you so admirably when you liked to make it clear you despised him? in fact, you enjoyed making a special effort to flip him off, or pull a face at him when he walked by, or kick his chair extra hard in spanish, or... oh shit. you had seen it from an outside point of view now, and it was glaringly obvious; maybe you did like him, just a little bit. shit. rory owed lorelai 10$ and a cheeseburger from luke’s, though you didn’t want to have to admit she was right when she’d said you were like a kindergarten boy pulling a girl’s ponytails because he thought she was pretty.

‘hey tristan,’ you started, breaking the comfortable silence between his questions and suddenly nervous to talk to him. stupid, it was still the exact same boy you’d been complaining about all week, nothing new. 

he looked up from your notes. ‘what’s up princess?’ 

that was definitely new.

‘don’t call me princess’ -he smirked irritatingly- ‘do you need to stay much longer? i mean, is there anything else you want help with?’

‘trying to get rid of me?’

‘no! no. i just thought that you’d only stay and pretend to listen to me for like, half an hour then vanish. it’s 11:30 and you’ve been through my whole binder.’

‘it is? time flies.’

‘tristan.’

‘i do care about my grades, you know. and you’re a good teacher, i might have a chance at an A.’

‘why didn't you show up the last 6 times we planned then?’

he put down his pen- your pen, actually. it had pink sparkles on the lid. ‘got to keep up my street cred.’

‘ha ha. funny,’ you replied as blankly as possible, pulling back a smile you could feel in your stomach. you made eye contact again and, like every other time since you’d sat down and started studying, you held each other’s gaze for longer than necessary. funny how realising you like someone makes you suddenly act like it.

‘i should get going then right,’ he said, picking his jacket from the back of his chair.

you felt weird, almost as if you didn't want him to leave after praying earlier he wouldn't show up. alas, your parents would be home soon and you would be willing to bet money that tristan would have some interesting jokes about your being home alone that would not slide with your dad.

‘yeah. i hope you get that A,’ you said, accidentally smiling as you walked him to the door.

tristan turned to lean on the frame of the now-open door and put on a face of mock surprise. ‘my, my, y/n. was that a kind comment and a smile? you’re spoiling me.’

‘shut up, i hope you fail.’

he smiled back. ‘you really mean that?’

‘i guess not.’

there was yet another beat of heavy silence.

‘see you monday.’

‘see you monday.’

you closed the front door as he walked down the drive, but noticed tristan’s car keys still sat on the kitchen table. a porsche, of course. you picked them up and reopened the door to his fist poised to knock. the two of you laughed awkwardly for a second.

‘i forgot my-’

‘you forgot your-’

another awkward laugh. jesus christ this was uncomfortable. you passed him the keys, and with absolutely no warning at all, your lips were suddenly met with his. they were soft and confident, and his free hand held your face as you tried to process the new situation. you quickly melted into the kiss, letting him take control until he pulled away and smiled that sparkly smile you didn't hate as much as you tried to.

‘didn't see that one coming,’ you said breathily, brushing some loose hairs off of your face.

‘i knew you didn’t hate me.’

‘ever the arrogant twat.’

‘hey, does this mean you’ll stop kicking my chair in spanish?’

‘absolutely not. in fact, i think i’ll kick it harder.’

‘as long as you let me do that again.’

tags: @leossmoonn for inspiring me to start writing again, @account123445 & @lmaoidekanymore6 for asking me to post tristan fics! (couldn’t figure out how to make the tags work but if you read this, you know ✨)

[yournameoneverypage]

Confessions

Shawn x reader.

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: Drinking/drunkenness, blink and you'll miss it angst.

// * // * //

You rested your head back against the front passenger seat of Shawn’s Tesla and closed your eyes. “I drank too much.” He had picked you up from a girls' night out with your friends. You had been ready to go home before the others and Shawn had told you to never hesitate to call him if ever you should need to.

“Just don’t puke in my car,” he snickered. “We’ll be home in ten.”

You rolled your head to the side and met his eyes as he glanced at you. “You really didn’ have to come,” you said softly.

“Of course I did. I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

“But your friends...”

Shawn had had a few of his friends over at his place that evening. He had chosen to not drink much himself, anticipating a possible call from you.

“It’s just Brian left. He crashes there all the time.”

“When am I gonna meet ’em?”

“When I’m ready to share you with them,” he smirked.

“’m yours,” you whispered, small smile on your lips, and closed your eyes again.

The thought of you being his made his heart skip.

// * // * //

Once in the elevator, you placed your hand on Shawn’s shoulder for balance and slipped off your heels. You exhaled in relief. “That’s better.”

He took your shoes in his own hand and when the elevator door opened, he said, “Hold on to me, honey.”

You bubbled, “’m not so drunk I can’t walk!”

“I beg to differ. You almost bit it getting out of the car,” he teased.

“You have good reflexes,” you said, wrapping both of your arms around his bicep as you started down the hall.

Stopping in front of your door, Shawn asked, “Where are your keys, Sweetheart?”

“In here. Somewhere,” you mumbled, letting go of him to dig through your clutch.

“Give it here. I’ll find them.” Cell, cash, credit card, dark pink tinted cherry lip balm, a-ha, keys, and, “Condoms? I didn’t think you were that kind of girl.” He smirked, trying to conceal the disappointment in his voice.

“’m not but the twins are,” you giggled.

It shouldn’t have mattered if the condoms had belonged to you. Still, Shawn found himself profoundly relieved.

Unlocking the door and stepping inside, he set your heels on the shoe rack and hung your clutch from a wall hook.

He led you to the kitchen and made you sit on one of the stools at the island. “Let’s get some food in you. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You watched intently as Shawn cut an avocado, removed the pit, and scooped out the flesh. He mashed it and added small pinches of garlic, sea salt, and pepper and then put two slices of whole grain bread in the toaster.

“I haven’ been drunk since college... "I do stupid things when I’m drunk.”

“We all do stupid things when we’re drunk,” he chuckled, taking a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water.

He was about to pass it to you when you said, abruptly, “I kissed some guy at the club.”

He lost his grip on the glass. It hit the ground with a crash and shattered.

“Shit.”

“Lemme help,” you said, starting to move from the stool.

“No, you need to stay right there while I clean up. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He laid a dishtowel over the mess before retrieving a new glass and trying again. This time he successfully placed it before you, followed by a slice of avocado toast. “Eat.”

You ate dutifully while Shawn sopped up the water and swept up the glass. He found a post-it and wrote:

No bare feet in the kitchen!

He stuck it right where you would see it in the morning. He wasn’t sure if he’d gotten all the slivers.

Shawn polished off the second piece of avocado toast himself while leaning elbows and forearms on the kitchen island across from you. “Finish your water too, angel.”

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you whispered.

He smiled tenderly. “You would do the same for me. Now, come on. Time for bed.”

He followed closely behind you as you made your way to the master bedroom. It would be the first time he had been in your room; he was undeniably curious. He slipped his slides off just outside the bedroom door and crossed the threshold.

It was a stunning space. King-sized, hard maple, canopy bed, likely custom made, with matching bedroom furniture. The bed rested on a large rug which felt ridiculously plush beneath his bare feet. Above the low-rise dresser hung a 50” flat screen television.

Shawn was pulled from his perusal when he heard you apologize. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I feel guilty.”

“For what?”

“For kissing someone else.”

“You can kiss whoever you want, babe.”

“’cept you,” you sighed. “He wasn’ even a good kisser. Too sloppy. Too eager.”

“Of course he was eager. You are gorgeous. And darling, in this dress...”

“Which I can’t wait to get outta.” You reached behind you and started to unzip it.

“Whoa,” Shawn said, spinning away, flushing.

You giggled and hiccupped. “I’m not gonna get naked in fron’a you! I just need outta this damn dress! Help me!”

He stepped up behind you and moved your hair to the side.

While he slid the zipper all the way down to where it stopped at the dimples above the swell of your bottom, you confessed, "He coulda been your twin. Or maybe I jus’ saw your face in his ’cause you’re always in my head.”

Before Shawn could even digest that, your dress fell from your body to the floor. He groaned softly. You were wearing a blush colored, lace, strapless bra and matching thong panties. He looked up at the ceiling and breathed deeply. This would be an inappropriate time to get aroused, but damn if you didn’t have the most amazing body he had ever seen.

Suddenly unsteady, you swayed on your feet. You reached out to grab the bedpost, almost missing it, but Shawn was there to catch you, again.

He chuckled. “I need you to sit down so I can find you something to wear to bed without worrying about you faceplanting.”

“I should take a shower.”

“In the morning, love. I’m afraid you’ll stumble in the tub and hurt yourself.”

“I gotta’least wash my face an’ brush my teeth.”

Shawn stood beside you, holding your hair back, while you scrubbed your face pink and brushed your teeth. He then had you sit on the chair at your small vanity while he went to choose something from your dresser drawers.

He returned with a pair of white boy short underwear with rainbow hearts all over them and a white racerback tank top.

“I like these,” you said about the boy shorts. “But I don’ want this.” You handed the top back to him.

“What do you want instead?”

“Can I wear your shirt? It’ll smell like you an’ I’d really love that.” He was wearing a simple white button-down.

“You’re lucky I’m wearing a tank top underneath, and that I have a hard time saying no to you,” he chuckled, undoing the only three buttons that were fastened, slipping it from his shoulders, and handing it to you. He then waited on the other side of the door to give you privacy to change.

You exited the bathroom, thankfully seeming to be a little more stable on your feet. He bit softly on his bottom lip; he liked how you looked in his shirt.

“Come on, babe. Into bed.”

You crawled to the very middle of the mattress. He retrieved the brush from your dresser and positioned himself behind you. He gently brushed your hair out before loosely braiding it. That way, should you wake up sick, at least your hair would be out of the way.

When he had finished, you glanced back at him over your shoulder. “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known,” he said softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then why don’t you want me?” you whispered.

He kissed your shoulder and breathed in the scent of your soft, warm skin mingling with the smell of himself from his shirt. His heart began thumping in his ears. You probably wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning, which made him braver than he would be otherwise.

“I want you, more than you can imagine, and that scares me,” he murmured. “You were…unexpected. You walked into my life and turned my world upside down so quickly; it’s making me question everything. I feel unbalanced around you.”

“’m sorry, I didn’mean to.”

“I wouldn’t wish it any different,” he smiled tenderly.

Shawn helped you settle under the covers and retrieved a glass of water and two ibuprofens to set on the nightstand beside the bed. He also moved a small wastebasket to within arms’ reach.

He crouched down to level himself with you and gently asked, “Do you really want to kiss me?”

You exhaled, your words almost imperceptible, “Every damn day.”

He took a deep breath. “If you remember any part of our conversation tomorrow, I’ll let you,” he promised. “Damn the consequences.”

// * // * //

@mendesblurb @benito-mi-vida