#I think duck would be against it at First then warm up to her rather quickly

[dira333]

Of Lovers and Friends - Ushijima x Reader

thank you @screamin-abt-haikyuu talking to you is inspiring

If you find a typo, I wrote this instead of going to bed. Goodnight.

“Just a Tonic Water, please,” You order, well aware of all the eyes on you.

“Are you sick?” Kindaichi asks, already pressing a hand against your forehead.

“Pregnant?” Kunimi’s next, though less serious.

“As if, you can’t get pregnant from RPG,” Makki points out, licking foam off his lip.

“You would know,” you tell him, a little peeved, as you push Kindaichi away.

“I’m fine. I just have a date later.”

Yahabi whistles, clearly impressed. God, you need to amp up your game. This is just sad.

“Who is it?” Kyoutani asks, forever your best friend. Or at least the one guy who’s seemingly the least interested in teasing you.

“I don’t know, my Mom set us up. She went to school with his Mom or something like that. I just know that he plays Volleyball and is about my age.”

“Could be anyone,” Watari mumbles into his Aperol Spritz.

“Could be Ushijima,” Mattsun jokes, causing Makki to choke on his beer, spluttering as he bellows out a laugh.

“Can you imagine? That would be hilarious!”

“Har har har,” you thank the waitress for your drink and lean back in your chair, “Can we change the topic? Does Makki have a job yet?”

“Uncalled for!” Makki points an accusing finger at you. “And no. But a little birdy told me that Kyoutani’s got a fangirl.”

Kyoutani blushes, glaring into his drink. The girl must mean something to him if he’s trying to pull himself together like this. You swerve to look at Kindaichi who’s managed to spill his diet coke - again.

“What about you? Did you call that girl we met at the coffee shop?”

“No,” he ducks his head. “I didn’t. I was… I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself.”

“Yeah, well, you did,” Makki lets his eyes wander as usual, “Tell you what. There’s a nice girl with her friends two tables over. We’ll get you her number but you have to call. Or at least send her some funny memes, okay?”

“Okay,” Kindaichi’s looking at you. Makki’s looking at you.

You groan and get up. “Next time you get someone else to get that number, okay? This is the last time.”

“Love you too, pumpkin!” Makki calls after you as you make your way over. These patterns have turned familiar.

-

You should have gotten a beer, you think two hours later as you wait, your legs twitching with anxiety. 

You’ve been painfully single for so long that you can’t help but feel you should have worn a dress or at least something more fancy than the jeans and top combo you’re sporting. But it’s comfy and it sets you at ease. And you’ve always been an advocate for being yourself on the first date. If they don’t like you like that, they won’t matter anyway.

So far that has brought you a lot of first dates and not a lot of second dates.

A deep voice calls out your name. You turn, your hands clutching the single purple carnation you had to bring - your mother’s idea. 

You spot the flower first, a tiny purple thing held in massive hands. He’s tall, impressively so. You let your eyes wander up as he walks over, the flickering street light casting long shadows over his face until he’s reached you and the soft warm glow of the restaurant behind you. 

Your heart skips a painful beat as he attempts a rather forced smile.

“Ushijima-kun,” you stutter, the confidence earned in twenty-something years shattered and replaced by the anxious brain of a teenager.

He offers you his hand, the one without the flower and you take it. His palm swallows yours, his grip warm and firm. If you can blend out the history your team has with his, that your friends have with him, you can give him a chance, right?

-

“Are you close with your mother?” He asks in the tense moment when the food’s already been ordered and the drinks aren’t served yet. It’s the worst possible question to ask, too, because no, you’re not close. Not since she went through with the divorce, unable to settle with a man ever since, as dissatisfied with them as she is with life, her business, you.

You don’t ramble often, but you do when you’re nervous. 

If he’s taken aback by the flood of words, of trauma seemingly long overcome, he does not show. He’s like a rock, sitting steadfast in the crashing river of your emotions, unmoving, sturdy.

When you’re finished, throat a little dry, he nods slowly. 

“My parents are divorced as well,” he says. You wonder if he’s told it often. 

“How was it for you?” You ask and the surprise in his eyes tells you that he hasn’t been asked this before. 

His tale is told more slowly. He hands out information bit by bit, always confirming that you’re still listening, still interested in what he has to say about this topic. You share a bottle of wine over his parent's divorce, the main dish just an accessory to the topic at hand. 

When his words run dry and the last drop of wine is poured into your glass, your mind a little fuzzy and his lips tinted a little blue, you are full and empty at the same time. All the anxiety has left you over dinner. 

Seijoh and your friends are far, far away but Ushijima - Wakatoshi, as he asks you to call him - is right there.

“Do you want to share dessert?” You ask and his eyes light up with a new emotion, one you haven’t seen before on him. It’s a little softer, makes him look a little younger, maybe.

“Do you like chocolate?” He asks, leaning forward a bit as if to share a secret.

“Who doesn’t?” You ask back and learn about his best friend.

-

“This was nice,” you say when he walks you to the train station, slowing his steps to be in tune with yours. The cold night air does wonders for your fuzzy brain but the chill is less pleasant. You shiver.

“Here.” A warm weight settles over your shoulders. His jacket drapes over your skin like it was made for this. It smells good, too. 

It’s not the first time you wonder if there will be a second date. But it’s the first time you really, really hope there is.

The train station appears much too soon. You want to prolong this evening, stay longer in this emotion that you cannot name. But you’re a realist at heart and you slip his jacket off before you become too used to its warmth.

“Keep it,” his large hand stops your movement, easily takes hold of yours. “You can give it back the next time.”

“Next time?” You ask, unable to keep that hopeful tone out of your voice. 

“I don’t have much free time,” Wakatoshi explains, “Could we meet again in a week? Same time, same place?”

You nod, much too eager to come off as nonchalant. It reminds you of Kindaichi, but you cannot bring yourself to care. You give him your number and feel your lips slip into a smile when he immediately texts you so that you have his as well.

Overhead your trains arrival is announced. You turn, still unwilling to part.

“Until Friday,” Wakatoshi says, one last wave. “Good night.”

- - -

You sleep well, better than you have in days.

It’s only when you wake up that you realize what this means.

You have a second date. The first in a long time. 

But as excited as you are for it, dread still settles in your stomach. How on earth will you explain this to your friends?

The answer is, you don’t.

When you meet up for beers and games on wednesday, Makki consolingly pats your shoulder. He seems to think your date went awful and you do nothing to correct him. You only feel a little guilty. It’s his fault for not even asking.

The others seem to already have forgotten. The news of Kindaichi getting a first date is more exciting and you let yourself get dragged into it, give him fashion advice - that goes ignored - and laugh with the others when Yahaba tries to fix his hair.

It’s only Friday afternoon that your nerves make themselves known.

Surely there’s nothing wrong in dressing similar again. Wakatoshi didn’t seem to mind and neither should you.

But you want to, you desperately want to… look a little better. You want him to look at you, unable to catch his breath, unable to form words, at least for a few seconds. Is that too much to ask for?

But you don’t own any Make-up, courtesy of rebelling against everything that makes you think of your mother. So you do the next best thing and call Mattsun.

“I’m not late,” he answers, immediately defensive. Right, you’re still on for drinks before the date. You can’t think about that now.

“I don’t care. Get your girlfriend on the phone, I need help.”

“What? Why?”

“Girls-stuff, you wouldn’t understand.” 

Miri agrees to join you for drinks. According to her she won’t need more than ten minutes in the bar bathroom to give you a little bit of an extra kick.

“You don’t want to look too different to what he’s seen the last time,” she reasons as you go over the few options of fancier clothes you have.

You're anxious the whole time, nurse one soda after the other. Even Kunimi notices.

“Second date?” Kyoutani asks. Makki’s eyes widen in surprise. You hate it.

“Maybe,” you grumble, getting up to pee once more. 

“What? You didn’t tell us the first one went well.”

“You didn’t ask,” you tell him as you make your escape to the bathroom. But this is Makki. He doesn’t let go of a topic.

“What’s his name?” He asks as soon as you’re back. “What team does he play for?”

“Let me get through this date first,” you huff, trying to sound more relaxed than you are. 

“He’s nice?” Kyoutani asks, able to put a threat and a question and a whole lot of worry in those few words. 

“Yeah,” you say, a little flustered just by the thought of him. The boys go silent around you. 

“Wow, you really like that guy,” Mattsun points out. 

“Shut up,” you grumble and empty your glass, calling for another. You don’t want to talk about it.

“Anyway,” Miri points out and you’ll forever be thankful for that, for her switching topics when you need it most, “Mattsun and I have decided to move together. We’re still debating about which apartment to move into, though.”

“Are you for real?” Makki’s always the first to put in his two cents, “Miri’s apartment is way better.”

Miri laughs. “Thank you Makki, I knew I could count on you.”

-

“There, done.” Miri steps away. You look at yourself in the mirror, the knots in your stomach slowly loosening. You don’t look like a clown, not like your mother either. 

“What did you do?” You ask, a little perplexed by how long your lashes suddenly are. 

“Mascara and some eyeliner. A little lipgloss too, you can reapply it when you’re at the restaurant.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime. If you want, we can go shopping for some of this stuff. You don’t need much and I can show you how to do the little things you might want to do sometimes.”

“Ah,” you look away, embarrassed, “Let me get through this date first.”

Miri smiles, understanding visible in her eyes. 

“Go get him, tiger,” she tells you when you part ways.

- - -

Wakatoshi is already waiting for you. 

Warmth pools in your stomach when he stills at your sight, his eyes warm as they wander over your face. 

“You look beautiful,” he tells you and you have to look away, too flustered to face him for a second.

“Am I not beautiful all the time?” You joke, hoping against hope that he does not notice the way your voice breaks slightly.

“Of course,” Wakatoshi tells you immediately, not an ounce of insincerity in his voice. You have to swallow twice before you’re able to talk again.

“You’re very pretty too,” your voice is doing funny things. You offer your hand to shake, a little unsure of what greeting is correct. He takes your hand in his, not to shake it, but to hold it all the way to the table and you’re unable to look anyone in the eyes until you’re seated, your insides a fluttery mess.

-

“Can I see you again?” Wakatoshi asks when you reach the train station, his jacket a comforting weight on your shoulders, your hand resting in his.

You nod, unable to hide your eagerness. 

You can’t blame the buzzing of your mind on alcohol this time. He’s calmly explained that he can’t drink often with his strict diet, has to choose between dessert or a glass of wine most of the time. It didn’t feel right to drink when he wasn’t allowed to.

Somehow your conversations feel deeper, more meaningful without the alcohol coating them. You know he means it when he asks and he knows you mean it when you nod.

Overhead, your train is announced. You don’t let go of his hand.

“I could do a little walk,” you say, “What do you say?”

You kiss his cheek when you eventually part. His skin is soft and warm underneath your lips. It follows you into your dreams.

-

On Wednesday you get a text just as you head out to meet the boys for beers and games.

“I’ve got out of practice earlier. Do you want to go for a walk?”

You go back inside, put on the lipgloss Miri had lent you as you text him your confirmation. You think about kissing him and wipe it off again, unsure of what you want. In the end you put it into your pocket just in case.

“Can’t come today, I have another date,” you text the group chat. 

Makki’s the first to answer, per usual, but his use of emojis has your anxiety rising so you put your phone on silent. You’ll deal with this on Friday.

It’s not yet time for the Sakura blossoms, but the park is beautiful anyway.

Not that you can focus on much besides the feeling of your hand in his, the way his voice rumbles in his chest as he talks about practice and his plans to meet up with his old teammates. 

You like this, the calmness of it all. You like him, with his serious expression and his direct way of asking. You like how he never fails to ask how your day has been, how he’s interested in all aspects of your work, even the little ones that no one seems to care about.

You like him, a lot. And if the way he looks at you is any indication, he likes you too. 

It’s when you’re on your way back, the setting sun bringing forth a chill, that someone calls your name.

You turn, your hand still firmly in Wakatoshi’s grasp, only to spot Kyoutani. He’s frozen on a near path and you know with certainty that he’s recognized your date. Your heart beats painfully in your throat and you feel sick.

“Everything okay?” Wakatoshi asks at the same time the girl next to Kyoutani pulls her massive scarf down to look at you. She looks familiar, blond hair, brown eyes, petite figure. It’s only when she opens her mouth to ask Kyoutani what’s going on that you recongize her. She’d been Karasuno’s volleyball manager. Yachi something.

Kyoutani seems to realize that you’ve recognized her because his face turns dark. He shakes his head at Yachi, points into the distance and leads her away. 

You’re still frozen next to Wakatoshi, realization washing over you like the cold floods of the  Tamagawa. 

“Is everything okay?” He asks again, cradling your face in his hands to make you look at him. You blink to clear your mind, wish you could just lean into his touch and disappear forever.

“You know what school I went to, right?”

“Aoba Johsai, yes. You were a manager for their volleyball team.”

“Yes,” He must have realized the truth already, still he asks you to say it out loud. “I’m still friends with the team, like you are with yours. They are not… They’re not fans of you.”

“I understand.” Wakatoshi nods. His hands slip away from your face, you miss them immediately.

You didn’t plan for it to go like this. He’s got an uncanny ability to make you open yourself up. Being vulnerable feels less scary when it’s him. 

He takes your hand again, guides you around the park for another round as you tell him all there is to know about your poor attempts at dating. How it sucks to be “just one of the boys” sometimes. How it hurts that they don’t even ask anymore if you’ve got a second date. How scary it is to admit to them that you’re dating him.

You bite your tongue after those last words. You’ve been on two dates so far, this is your third. Is it too forward to call this “dating”? What if he’s not-

“I understand if you want to keep this a secret for longer,” he says. His voice is heavy in a way that tells you that there’s more to it. 

Two things can be true at the same time. Understanding it won’t mean that he’ll appreciate it.

“I will… I will try and talk to them,” you promise. And you will. Even if you could keep this a secret, you won’t if it hurts him. And you can tell that it hurts.

-

You wish you could kiss him goodbye. But you can tell that he’s distanced himself, put up a wall to protect his heart. 

“On Wednesday we usually meet up to drink beer and play games,” you explain, wringing your hands, “They should all be there right now. Well, except Kyoutani. I will... I will go and talk to them right now.”

He nods. Your voice breaks a little when you ask. “Are we still- Are we still on for Friday?”

“Of course,” his deep voice soothes your anxious heart a little. You take a step forward and hug him, stiff and awkward, before you move back.

“I really like you, Wakatoshi,” you say before you can take it back, swallow it down, hide it from the world. 

“I like you too.”

- - -

Makki is already buzzed when he opens the door.

It’s probably not the best time to talk about things like this, but you want to get this over with. If you talk about it now, the dust will settle by Friday. Or so you hope.

There’s an iPad on the coffee table, Iwaizumi and Oikawa grinning back at you. You accept a beer, almost drop it with how jumpy you are, your legs unable to stay still.

“So, how was your date?” Makki asks, cutting off one of Oikawa’s rants.

“Good,” you say and take another sip of beer, “We met Kyoutani at the park.”

“Oh?” Mattsun looks up from his phone. “So you met the girl he fancies?”

“Maybe,” you shrug, unwilling to give up his secret. He’s got his one fears to face. 

“What you mean, dear Mattsun,” Makki teases, “Is that Kyoutani met her boyfriend.”

Oikawa gasps dramatically. “No way?! You got a boyfriend? Who is it!”

“Ushijima,” you say, ripping the bandaid off in one swoop.

Makki cackles, spurned on by Oikawa’s apparent confusion.

“Good one,” Mattsun jokes as Iwaizumi snorts. The younger players don’t think the joke’s that funny. It’s Kunimi who bothers you the most, his perceptive eyes locked onto your face.

“Guys,” he cuts through the laughter, “She’s serious.”

And it would have turned out better, you suppose, without the beer. Because Oikawa gets more petulant when drunk and Makki’s jokes are a bit less funny and a lot more mean when he’s buzzed. The younger guys don’t really know how to mediate. That has always been your job, or Iwaizumi’s. But the distance does not work in your favor.

You leave half an hour after you’ve arrived, angry tears streaming down your face. 

It’s always the people closest to you that hurt you the most. They know what parts of you are the most sensible, and which parts of you are still bruised, still in the process of healing.

You press your phone to your ear.

Wakatoshi picks up right away.

“I talked to them,” you press out. Your voice is doing funny things again and you swallow back another wave of tears, less motivated by anger and more by hurt.

“Do you want to come over?” He asks and you don’t hesitate to agree.

It hurts to fight, to possibly lose good friends over something as stupid as old rivalries, but Wakatoshi is good at soothing over it, with warm hands and the gentle rumble of his voice as he holds you close.

-

You don’t meet up with the boys on Friday. No one has bothered to invite you.

You watch Wakatoshi practice instead, laughing about Kageyama who pesters you about how to better his form - you’re a licensed sports therapist after all - and teasing Hoshiumi who fake gags every time you throw Wakatoshi a kiss. 

You move your date to Wakatoshi’s apartment, cook dinner together - it turns out pretty decent - and talk through the night. When you wake up in his arms on Saturday morning you know that you want this to go on, that you want this to be a relationship that lives instead of dies, one that strengthens over time.

- - -

You’re a little surprised to find Mattsun and Makki at your work. 

It’s Wednesday and they should be working too, well, at least Mattsun should.

“Iwaizumi called us every day,” Mattsun admits eventually, “Apparently we’ve been dicks.”

“Yeah,” you tell him bluntly, noticing that Makki’s still stubbornly staring out of the window. “You were.”

“Oikawa’s still pissed,” Mattsun admits next, taking a seat in front of your desk. “But he’ll get around. Kunimi pointed out that it was a blind date. You didn’t actively pick him.”

“Even if-” You start but Mattsun just shakes his head. “It’s Oikawa. Logic does not pull.”

“I’m only apologizing-” Makki interrupts, huffs, and continues, “I’ll only apologize if you do too.” He glares at you. Mattsun’s looking too, though his eyes are softer.

Finally, you nod and get up, offering your hand for Makki to shake.

“I’m sorry I made fun of you. It’s not your fault that you got fired.”

He huffs again. You know that sound. He sounds like that when he’s trying not to cry. And you suppose you can’t fault him for that. Friends just know where it hurts the most.

But he shakes your hand, his grip a bit firmer than it needs to be.

“I’m sorry that I called you an ugly bitch that has no game.”

Suddenly you can’t help but laugh. It flows freely, from deep within, has you bending over the desk as you cackle. They laugh along, softly first before it breaks out of them too.

“All good?” Makki asks when you eventually calm down.

“All good,” you agree, looking over at Mattsun. He shrugs. “Don’t look at me, I’ve always been good.”

“Sure,” you joke, “But just so you know, I’ll bring Wakatoshi along tonight.”

Makki rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I’ll smoke him at Mario Kart.”

As it turns out, however, Wakatoshi smokes him.

Who knew he had it in him?

.

-.- Warsaw -.-

The front door closes with a soft click, alerting you.

“Shh!” You hiss at the boys before turning toward the door of the living room. 

“Hey honey, welcome home!”

“Hi,” Wakatoshi steps inside, spots the beer and your laptop screen and waves. “Beers and Games?”

“Yeah, but it’s not that important.” You get up to kiss him, ignoring Makki who’s trying to make a point of his importance. “You wanna go out to eat?”

“Can we stay in?” He asks, “There’s this new movie that Satori recommended.”

“Yeah, sure,” you nod. “Go shower. I’ll make some food.”

He smiles and leans in for another kiss, waving at the camera before he leaves for the bathroom.

“So he doesn’t know, huh?” Mattsun asks as you pick up your laptop and carry it to the kitchen.

“No, I want to tell him tonight. Thanks for not spoiling it guys.”

“Anytime,” Kindaichi pipes in. You bet he’s got no clue what you’re talking about. “What are you making?”

“Golabki,” you answer, “Cabbage roles. I’ve been obsessed with these lately.” 

You catch up while you cook, eager to hear more about Kindaichi’s budding relationship or Makki’s latest work adventure. Even Kyoutani contributes a lot today, proudly talking about how Yachi has won a prize for one of her designs.

At some point Wakatoshi appears, leaning into you as you work. He likes to be in the way when you facetime the team, thinks it’s funny that Makki has named him “the Log” or that he’s always blocking the drawer you need to get to the most.

“Move,” you tell him, pulling at his thighs. Behind him’s the cutlery you need to set the table.

“There’s a price for that,” he tells you quietly. You roll your eyes and move to kiss him. He shuffles slightly to the side, now blocking the cabinet that hides the plates.

-

It’s only after dinner, your laptop put away, the dishes done, that you find yourself back on the Couch, cuddled into him.

“Wakatoshi,” you address him, your hands shoved under his shirt. His eyes have closed but he’s still awake, you can tell by his breathing.

“Hmm?”

“Remember how we were talking about what we wanted to do on your next break?”

“Yes?” He opens one eye to squint at you. “Do you still want to go back to Japan?”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” you confess, “But we talked it through. It’s not feasible and I’ve got a better idea.”

That has him opening both his eyes. He can sense that something’s coming and you nestle further into him. 

You like to surprise him, for sure. You love how quiet he gets when you do something special for him, almost unsure if he deserves it. If this is really just for him. But that doesn’t mean you don’t get flustered by your feelings for him once in a while.

“I got us tickets to Paris,” you tell him quietly. “Tendō already knows.”

When he pulls you close he doesn’t have to say anything. You already know.

He misses his best friend just as much as you miss yours.

[liplinerloser]

Hello!

Увидела, что ваши запросы открыты и я решила оставить свой!

Можно мне Мейсона, Дерека с f!reader, которая оказалась хитрее них?

Она одерживает над ними победу, но не решает их убить, потому что "просто быстро убить вас было бы слишком гуманно"

I liked how these sort of came out so I might write them as little fics, or the after maths of them since part of the request is you don’t actually kill them

hope I didn’t butcher the translation!

Minors dni!

Mason + Derek with an F!reader, who out smarts them

Derek

It’s not difficult to imagine someone being able to outsmart him, he’s so full of himself he doesn’t even think of it as a possibility. With his inflated ego all it took was some fake submission and a few fulfilled requests until he was lulled into a false sense of security. He would believe you were primal, like a scared animal, what he expected with the other captives. But you had a plan.

From your few rough encounters with Derek you knew he wouldn’t ever let you off lightly if he caught you lacking, the sore sting of your tongue against the roof of your mouth reminded you of that.

You were practically defenceless, and to make matters worse you were sure the water supply was tainted, meaning you were thirsty, hungry and afraid.

You clocked Komodo and Dragon performing some weird ritual, but after gauging the level of threat you ruled them out. Unless you stepped into their territory it’s likely they wouldn’t be an issue; you were tempted to attack them when you noticed the knife they used on their victims, just big enough to do some damage but small enough to hide on your person. You stashed the idea and moved on.

If you had survived long enough to withstand the heat of the desert and the pangs of grinding hunger you had definitely encountered jack. Despite him being the most threatening he was ironically one of the most benevolent of the group. You’d remembered how he’d caught you and forced you into certain activities, and rewarded you as such. This was a possible opening

carefully, you stalked the desert, being sure to duck in the cover of the sand if you heard the familiar rumble of the quad. You reached the place where you had initially encountered jack, ducked your head, and silently peered out over the Sandy terrain. It was only a matter of time before he made his rounds.

And so he did, you caught him with his captive, mid fight no doubt. She thrashed wildly in his grasp, landing a few hits from the steady stream of blood under the mask.

You respected her courage in the situation, especially when you saw her knock jack to the ground and lunge for his weapon. You saw your opening.

Practically diving before she could grip the knuckle duster hilt of the knife, you tackled her, in her state of shock she thrashed rather than attacking you. It was clear she recognised you.

Before you could register the betrayal in her eyes you pushed the knife into the soft flesh beneath her jaw. She writhed, warm blood pulsing out in a clean stream. Your eyes were wide, jaw ajar, completely forgetting about him.

You were pulled out of your trance by a rumbling laughter. He had pulled himself off the floor and loomed over you.

“You batting for the other team now? Don’t think the others would be best pleased hm”, he had a shit eating grin plastered over his now unmasked face. You braced for impact, nothing came.

You were the one who held the knife, the power dynamic had shifted and he knew it too. Even if he managed to pry the knife out of your hands and beat you limp, you wouldn’t die without a fight. He’d seen first hand how you were willing to fuck someone up just to survive. His arrogance and pride wouldn’t allow him to be seen at the camp bruised and battered at the hands of a captive.

Jack let out a grunt, holding his hands up defeatedly. Everyone had a price, and he was willing to pay yours to live, or At least until he could kill you when you weren’t looking. You took advantage of this, pointing the knife at his throat as you explained your situation with Derek.

You could’ve swore you saw his head nodding almost with understanding? Maybe Derek was just an asshole to everyone. You told him you wanted him dead, at that his eyes flashed with an emotion you couldn’t quite pick out.

you heard him sigh with frustration, he promised to help you, he clarified just one thing.

“You can do what you want to the little shit, cut him into little cubes, wear him like a jacket for all I care. But you can’t kill him. Fuck him up real good, then meet me at camp. I’ll get you out of here”

It’s not unbelievable to assume you didn’t trust him at all, you had a feeling this choice would come back to you later

He offered you the knife you’d killed the other captive with, you grimaced as you took it, but understood it was the only way out.

You waited until it was darker, the desert had cooled. Taking the knife and reaching behind you, you made a jagged slash along your shoulders and back. As you did, deliberately screaming, listening to the hollow echoes of your voice around the desert.

The other 3 captors were nowhere to be seen, same with the other captives. Apart from 1, that familiar grinding noise of the quad approaching you. Your stomach churned as you quickly hid the knife in the waist band of your shorts.

Lying on the floor, seething with pain, he approached you curiously. Upon seeing the wound he bared his teeth like a dog.

“Who the fuck did this to you. I paid good money for you. and you let someone else touch you, dirty bitch.”, his nose scrunched in disgust.

There was no concern or empathy, as you had to remind yourself he was barely human, barely feeling in terms of emotion. You were not a conscious being to him, instead a mere chew toy to satisfy his urges. The piñata he got all his frustration out on before he had to wear the mask of a functional person back home, and for his father

“Might as well make good use one last time. And I’m a nice guy, so I’ll let you pick which hole.”, blinking away tears, you pitifully pointed to your mouth, Playing off the sad character you had created for yourself

Positioning yourself on your knees, looking through your lashes with teary eyes, you found yourself smiling, before reaching for his belt and getting to work. You had to make sure you were good for him, just this once.

Using both your hands and tongue, you pawed and kneaded at him needily, drinking him, much to his pleasure. The original grip he had on your hair had loosened as he leaned into your touch desperately. Derek felt so secure in his position of power, felt he had broke you, but you waited for this.

He twitched, gritting his teeth. He was almost there, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of finishing. With his eyes practically rolled into the back of his head, you stretched a free hand behind you, gripping the knife that you’d hidden.

Quicker than he could process, you pushed the knife so deep into the flesh of his thigh that you were sure you hit bone. Before he could grab you as a reflex, you lay on your back, using one leg to kick at the fresh wound, and the other to stop him from hobbling towards you

“You fucking bitch. You fucking stupid cunt, you’re nothing, if you kill me you still can’t leave here, don’t you fucking get that?!”, you cringed at his temper tantrum.

The pain was too much for him, he fell to the floor, gritting his teeth and writhing in agony. You knew in this state he wouldn’t get far, and eventually he would pass out from blood loss, so you decided against stabbing him again (as much as you wanted the satisfaction)

“You need me. You can’t leave me here, do you even know who I am?!”

After all the pain he had caused you, to see him so vulnerable, crying like a spoiled child, it gave you back a little bit of dignity that he had stripped you of.

“Please. Please, fuck, please. You don’t have to do this, I can get you anything you want, literally anything. Don’t leave me here.” , all you could think was how pathetic he was to resort to begging.

There was more Babbling, in between the tears and choked sobs. Something about his urges, how it wasn’t personally against you and he just wanted to feel normal. You couldn’t help but audibly scoff, after everything he had put you through, he’s sorry cause it “wasn’t personal”, or he “wanted normalcy”. You were shaking from anger.

You decided against killing him, not only because of the offer with jack, but because any death you could afford him would be too generous and humane.

God knows he doesn’t deserve that. He wasn’t worth your effort, you just wanted to go home.

You thought you saw a white mask stalking in the Distance. Fearing one of the others, gripping your knife you moved quickly in the direction of the camp.

As expected jack was waiting for you, cigarette lit between his calloused fingers.

He blinked almost in surprise that you'd survived, but Moreso acknowledgment for your existence. Holding out a cup of ambiguous liquid, you assumed out of good will, you silently drank together.

that was the last thing you remembered before knocking out.

in homeless fashion, you'd woke up on a random park bench in a familiar town that once your eyes adjusted you presumed to be your own.

you finally let out a sigh of relief as you let your feet drag across the pavement in the direction of your home. Your reality had shifted, becoming more aware of peoples lingering glances, their facial reaction towards you. You couldn’t help but feel ruined.

A fresh shower eased your tense muscles, washing away your guilt (temporarily), you let your fingers trace over the scars and bruises that littered your skin. they would fade. it was over. you finally let yourself feel vulnerable

But you should never be vulnerable, especially since you fucked with a Goffard.

Mason

To survive Mason you had to be much more calculated than you did with Derek. Mason didn’t need to be cocky, he knew his way around that Forest more than you ever would, he was quick and quiet.

You had learned a few things just from your first day. Mason made rounds, he didn’t stick to one place, which meant that you couldn’t stick to one place either. Due to the Forrest shape and the pattern of his movements it was more difficult for him to corner you, which was in your favour.

Another thing was the Forrest was cold as a motherfucker, and sleeping was near impossible without the comfort of a fire to warm you. At first you thought the supplies to light the fire were a trick, trying to weed you out, surely he would be able to see the smoke rising from the tree tops and catch you?

But nights were also safe, gave you enough time to patch yourself up, rest, or set up for the next day. You’d figured out on the night he rested in a log cabin, which gave you some peace of mind knowing he wouldn’t be prowling

Mason was a man of his word, if you survived him he would let you go of no consequence, which could not apply to others. The issue was finding a way around a man that was so obviously a skilled hunter

First you thought about the Snares, having nearly been caught in one, you thought you could possibly use one to your advantage. That was ruled out when animals kept getting stuck in them, your guilty conscience forced you to leap to save them

You had seen a bear trap before, cunningly hidden under dry foliage, you’d spotted it and avoided it, maybe you could move it into his pathway? By this point you had his moves tracked to a T, so you could predict where he would be moving next.

Your chest swelled with pride, and a mixture of anxiety, as you tried to replicate the deceptive placement of the trap he had originally set, covered in leaves, twigs and shrubbery.

To seal the deal and ensure he actually came you let a raw scream rip through your throat, you knew it wasn’t an issue for him to find where the scream could come from, the man could practically echolocate.

Your eyes darted around the open Forrest, realising you had nowhere to hide and had given up your location. Staring up a tree near the bear trap, you sighed.

Making sure to climb promptly up the tree while leaving no trace proved a challenge, the longer you waited the more you hallucinated the sounds of twigs snapping beneath thick leather boots. Once you were up, securely hidden by the dense leaves, you dared to peer down

It had taken him a matter of 15 minutes to find you, just from a scream. Either he sprinted or he was in an area nearby, both options scared you. The familiar green of his tartan print shirt made you lurch with fear

Biting your lip, you watching him along the pathway edge closer and closer to the trap, you had granted yourself the feeling of freedom prematurely, assuming it would work.

Furrowing your brows, you were confused when he stopped a pace away from the trap. You felt your skin crawl hearing a deep resonating laughter erupt from him, a laughter that felt patronising

He had seen it. And he was amused? Instead of stepping onto it or around it, he instead picked up a large stick, and used it to trigger the trap with a gut wrenching snap. That could’ve been you, ideally it should’ve been him.

It was a premature plan, not very well thought out, it would take more to take him out, especially considering his size, he was easily twice yours, if not in height but the sheer weight and strength of him. You did have a lingering feeling that you should keep an eye out for the repurposed bear trap, that could come in handy.

The next step on the failing agenda was to explore the one place you really really didn’t want to. His Cabin. By default you assumed it was locked so before you even considered actually going you thought about methods to get in, he hadn’t seen you by that area, so maybe he would accidentally leave the door unlocked??

Yeah fat chance. Surely you had to take advantage of how quick he seemed to be when he heard you in the area with the bear trap, it’s almost as if he dropped everything to find you, you wanted to test this theory.

You knew there was a lake nearby, and decided to try your chances at fishing, not really for the whole nutritional value of the fish but another idea. It was a forest right? A densely packed, environmentally diverse forest, you had seen foxes, rabbits, deer, so it was only right to assume there must be bears, especially with a stream so close by.

Waiting until night fall again, you wondered how long it would take before he grew tired of exclusively searching for you during the day. You made your way over to the stream, you’d seen something about catching fish with your hands on some tv show and didn’t really think much of it when you saw it. Maybe you should’ve paid attention.

After a few tries of Emulating a really terrible Bear Grylls technique you resorted to a stick, rolling up your trousers and standing in the freezing water very still, seeing an unfortunate victim swim towards you, you plunged your stick into it.

You could worry about feeling guilty later, when you were safe. Making your way over to a snare you knew he set up before, one that you’d narrowly avoided, you placed the fish very close to it. Making sure to remove the head so it’s stench was stronger.

Practically sprinting, you made your way back to the hiding place near his cabin. It would take a while for a Bear to go near the snare, and it was almost morning, so he’d surely he would be up and out. You hoped he would confuse the bear for you just long enough.

The timing couldn’t have been more perfect, you were practically becoming delirious from hunger, and the cold had finally started nipping away at your fingers and nose. Alongside that you were drained, forcing yourself to stay awake, you didn’t want to be caught at the last lap.

He finally came. Striding out with an air of confidence, gruff harsh footsteps crunching against the earth. Further into the distance, the familiar sound of the snare, and the shake of the trees. The deer weren’t heavy enough to do that, he thought he had finally won.

Overcome with hubris, he slammed the door of the cabin shut, gripping his knife. You noted he didn’t lock it. Even mass murderers make mistakes.

There was your chance, quietly crawling up the steps, you made your way in. Anxiety ripped at your insides as you searched, conveniently you had found that handy bear trap, and a few other interesting bits too. You didn’t like the guy but you were always curious to learn about someone.

No technology, but a map? Upon studying it a little closer you noticed the area with a pin in it was where you were, seeing the familiar curves of the stream on its hand drawn surface. Another place fairly close by was circled, you wondered if that would be useful later.

Placing the bear trap in front of the door was the first thought, but that was too easy, he would surely notice it, and even if it caught just a leg he seemed rough enough to pull it off and lunge for you. That wouldn’t work out for you.

You noticed a stool, dragged it to the gap behind the door for when it would swing open upon his entry, then stood on it with the bear trap positioned away from your body.

Mason was pissed to say the least. Not only was it not you in the snare, but a large angry fucking bear. it took a few hacks at it to get it to die, it almost got a few hits on him too, but Sandy never let him down.

His heavy footsteps left imprints in the soft dirt as he made his way back to the cabin, realising his previous mistake. You were a frightened animal, he doubted you’d be brave enough to go to the one enclosed space he stayed in the most.

Nothing seemed off when he came back, everything as it was. But he wasn’t just going to lock the door, being paranoid kept him alive, so he would quickly check and be on his way.

With his same air of confidence, Mason strides into the cramped cabin, upon first glance it seemed nothing had moved, he did note his stool was gone.

Furrowing his brows he turned to look for it, only noticing then the seething captive that had been waiting for him.

The stool gave you enough height to jump at him, wrapping your legs around his torso, in one fell swoop, you locked the jaws of the bear trap around his head. It didn’t fit so snugly due to his struggling, so with as much force as you could muster, you slammed it so hard you felt the spring locks recoil against you.

There was silence for a moment, you had unwound your legs from him, falling to the floor and crawling towards the door. His towering figure stood still, eyes open with shock, the grip on his knife had diminished as it hit the floor with a gentle thud.

Then you were met with screams, piercing screams, and you genuinely wondered when you stared at him, how was this fucker not dead? People lose their legs from bear traps, and he still somehow was conscious enough to yell, even trying to undo the spring lock to free himself.

While he was distracted trying to free his twisted flesh from within the teeth of the trap, you took your opportunity to grab his knife and scramble frantically away from the lumbering man.

Just as you were out the door you remembered the map, but Mason was too busy trying to salvage his face to care what you were doing, making eye contact with him as you sprinted in the direction of the map you noted he looked at you differently. There was no anger, or victimising glare, it felt more equal, like he finally respected you as a person and not prey

His face disgusted you, the trap still actively disfiguring him the more he struggled. Killing him would be too humane, you hoped he would survive this, and that his scars and deformity would be a reminder. The hunter had finally been hunted.

Knowing he wouldn’t be following you, with the map and knife in hand, and your back pack of supplies you had stashed in your hiding place, you made your way to the circled area on the map. You hoped there would be something like a phone, a way to contact anyone. Worst case scenario you could survive a little longer, trek out the forest and find your way back.

After dealing with him you didn’t feel so vulnerable, the only threat left in the vicinity was you; a dangerous wave of euphoria ran over you.

You hoped he had learnt his lesson, if he came looking for you, you wouldn’t be so nice. Maybe you shouldn’t have taken Sandy though-

[redmyeyes]

point, game, set, match

i. POINT

“Make him come,” Tashi tells Art.

She’s gotten them to the bed. Through the awkwardness of the aftermath, the trophy presentations, the car ride back that felt an hour long, the conversation with her mother with the two of them standing right there, thanks Mom, we’re just going to celebrate Art’s victory, would you mind putting Lily to bed?

Her boys could wait, they’d been trained well. Or, Art had been trained well. He took to anticipation like a duck to water. Master of the slow game, Art. Patrick, it just fired up. The moment they’d leapt into each other’s arms across the net, they’d all known this was where the evening was leading. And now she’s gotten them to the bed. Finally. A nice, wide king, rather than two queens pushed together.

She leans back on her elbows, deliberate echo of their aborted first time—Art on her right, Patrick on her left. “Think I’m joking?” she says to the hesitant look on Art’s face. No easy warm up here. They’ve been edging all day, and they need to dive straight into round one before the tension shatters them. Besides, Patrick’s always needed a quick orgasm to take the edge off before he really heats up.

“He’s been a good boy, hasn’t he?” she asks Art. “Coming back to us. You’ve both been such good boys. So make him come.” She turns to Patrick. “You. Don’t come.”

She scoots back further, so there’s only the slim line of her crossed calves between them. Art looks at Tashi. Patrick looks at Art. Art looks at Patrick. He leans across the barrier, cupping Patrick’s jaw in his hand, and kisses him.

The kiss hangs suspended for a minute, then it’s fevered, then soft. Finally Patrick pulls back and his eyes are glazed with tears or lust or both, and the corner of his mouth curls up in that familiar smartass smirk and he says, “Gonna make me come with just your mouth?” And Art smiles and slides off the bed to his knees in front of him.

Art’s always been so obedient. And Patrick’s always loved Art.

Art sits back on his heels, hands on his thighs, cool, like he’s assessing where to place the serve. Patrick’s practically vibrating with tension and looking down at Art with this expression of near wonder on his face. Art’s lips quirk. He grabs the back collar of his shirt and pulls it off.

He makes Patrick look, holds his gaze. Then he pulls Patrick’s shoes off. Left foot. Then right. Left sock. Right. Slides his hands slow over Patrick’s knees and up his thighs, under his athletic shorts. Hairy legs, not like hers, and she watches him absorb the difference with his fingers. Reverent.

And then he noses into Patrick’s crotch, hungry, mouthing, and Patrick’s hand slaps down on his head, fingers sliding through hair, fisting. Advantage, Art.

Art grins, pulling off enough to get his hands on Patrick’s hips, to slide his shorts and boxers off when Patrick lifts for him.

Tashi slides behind him, spreads her legs to pull Patrick back between them, crooks her finger at Art to come closer. Lips on the shell of Patrick’s ear, she watches alongside Patrick as Art crawls between their bare legs, lips skimming their way up Patrick’s inner thigh.

“Don’t come,” she reminds him, pulling his shirt off and holding him back against her.

[sunshinesteviee]

human heating pad - s.h.

summary: steve takes care of you while you're on your period wc: 1.3k warnings: reader who menstruates, but no mention of pronouns, so gn! a/n: just a lil something since it's been a while since i've posted anything!!! this is half self-indulgent, and half for ash lol.

Masterlist

“I don’t wanna get up,” you whined, pulling the blankets on your bed up, clutching them to your chest. 

Hearing your groans, Steve popped his head out of the bathroom, hands still in his hair as he attempted to get it into place, “What’s wrong, babe?”

“Don’t feel good,” you huffed, pushing your bottom lip out into a pout to emphasize your point, “Cramps.”

Steve gave you a sympathetic frown, holding a finger up to signal that he’d be right back before ducking back into the bathroom. He reappeared a moment later and crawled back into bed with you, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of your hips. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, “Let’s stay home, then.” You had been planning on a night out with the older group of friends, and Steve had already started getting ready. 

“We can’t not go, Stevie—” 

“No, I’m serious,” Steve cut you off, soft kisses scattered across the side of your face, “You always say how bad your cramps are; you deserve to take care of yourself. I’ll call Robin to let her know, and we can stay in."

“I don’t know…” you replied, uncertain. You hated canceling on friends, especially last minute.

“C’mon,” he murmured, bringing a hand up to brush over your hair. The pad of his thumb rubbed gently against your temple, “We’ll stay in bed all night and watch movies, and we can order whatever you want for dinner. Whaddya think?”

Pursing your lips, you finally nodded. Honestly, you weren’t ever going to say no to Steve. And he was making the first day of your period sound almost bearable. “And you’ll cuddle with me all night?”

Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully, “Obviously, baby. I’ll go call Robin and tell her you’re not feeling well. You get comfy.” He left a small kiss on the tip of your nose before getting out of bed again, making his way down the hall to the phone. 

You couldn’t hear much of what he was saying into the phone, and settled back into the pillows beneath you, not-so-patiently waiting for your boyfriend’s return. Just being in his bed helped soothe the ache in your abdomen. Everything smelled like him, and the bed was still warm from where he’d been next to you all afternoon on your lazy day. The only thing that would be better is if you were wrapped up in his arms. 

He returned a few minutes later, a glass of water and some medicine in hand for you, just in case. Placing it on your nightstand, Steve got back in bed next to you, wiggling his way underneath the covers. You scooted closer to him and let out a soft sigh, “I’m sorry we had to cancel… Were they mad?”

“Of course not,” Steve frowned, one arm sliding over your shoulder to pull you in, lips pressing to your temple, “Robin just said she hoped you felt better soon. And don’t apologize, baby. We’ll reschedule for a day next week, yeah? Would rather go out when you can enjoy it, too.”

Sighing again, you nodded, cheek pressed into Steve’s chest, “Yeah, okay. Thanks for calling, baby.” Your hand slid across Steve’s torso, tucking around his side as you nuzzled into him. He was warm under your touch and you slipped your hand underneath the hem of his shirt, searching for his soft skin. Steve shivered as your fingers grazed his skin, pulling a soft laugh and another apology out of you, a light kiss to his jaw. 

“Would rather be here with you all night, anyway,” Steve added, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. “Do you want a heating pad, babe?”

You shook your head quickly, eyebrows furrowing together, “No! Don’t want you to get up. Can you be my heating pad?”

Steve let out a quiet laugh, but agreed immediately, tapping on your hip, “Sure, babe. C’mon, little spoon. Turn over.” 

“You’re the best,” you mumbled as you pecked his lips gently and turned over in his arms. They circled around your waist and pulled your back into his chest. His body curved around yours, the warmth of his abdomen soothing the dull ache in your back. 

“Better?” he asked, breath warm against your neck, lips ghosting over your skin. 

Without replying, you reached behind you in search of Steve’s hand. You found his wrist and tugged at it gently until his palm was against your stomach. He let out a quiet laugh again, fingers searching for the hem of your shirt and slipping underneath it so he was resting his hand against your skin. Relaxing into his touch, you finally agreed, “Much better.” 

Steve’s fingers splayed out over your skin and pressed lightly, an attempt to massage the aches away. When you’d first started dating Steve, you were surprised by how much he didn’t care about your period, and how supportive he was, especially when it came to taking care of yourself. He always did his best to take care of you, whether that meant running to the store to get the things you needed (and usually coming home with a plethora of snacks he knew would cheer you up), or being your human heating pad. He’d wait on you hand and foot if you let him. 

The further the sun sank into the sky, the further you sank into bed, and into Steve’s touch. There was a movie playing on the TV, but you’d long forgotten it, too distracted by Steve’s warmth and his soft voice at your ear. It was only when your stomach grumbled loudly that you realized how late it’d gotten. You giggled quietly, finally turning back over in Steve’s grasp, “Are you hungry? ‘Cause I am.”

“I heard,” Steve giggled with you, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours now that you were facing him, “Whaddya want? We’ll get it delivered.”

You only complained slightly when he got out of bed to call the restaurant, grabbing at his hand as he rolled out of bed, “You’ll come right back?”

“Do you want food or not?” he retorted, his free hand on his hip as he looked at you with a mock-disapproving stare. 

“Yeah, but want you more. So come back quick, please.”

“You know I will, honey.” 

You did know that, and yet, you dragged yourself out of bed, blanket cloak and all, to follow him downstairs. You knew Steve wouldn’t mind, but you don’t want to eat in his bed, and you were sure that if he joined you in bed again, the two of you would never get up again. When he saw you shuffling down the stairs, he gave you a confused look, but you ignored him and flopped onto the couch. 

Hanging the phone back up on the wall after ordering, Steve made his way over to you and crouched down, an amused smile on his face, “I said I’d be right back, silly.” 

“I know,” you smiled, shifting onto your back and tugging at his arm, “We can eat down here. You can still cuddle with me ’til the food gets here. C’mere.” With that, you tugged a bit harder until Steve all but fell into you. 

“Babe!” Steve laughed, trying to hold himself up over you, “I’m gonna crush you!” 

“That’s the point, Stevie. You’re like my very own heated, weighted blanket,” you replied, pulling at his shoulders until his body was pressed to yours. 

Steve finally gave in and laid against you, his cheek pressing into your shoulder as he grumbled something along the lines of, “Only wanna cuddle for your own selfish needs. ‘M just a human heating pad.” He kissed the skin just beneath your collarbone once, and then twice, to let you know that he was only joking. 

“You love it,” you huffed, wrapping the ends of the blanket around Steve’s shoulders to keep him close to you. Tilting your chin up, you pressed a soft kiss to his temple and mumbled, “And thank you for taking care of me.” 

He hummed quietly, his hand rubbing along your side gently, “You know I always will.” 

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Hey!! Could I request a Larissa x reader where reader is new to Jericho and they meet Larissa in the coffeeshop. Larissa likes them immediately but is scared that reader will reject her so she hides her being an outcast to them. When reader finds out by accident, Larissa expects to be rejected and hurt but readers just like “So you’re like Professor X and Mystique at the same time. That makes you cooler.” because reader’s a bit of a nerd, and Larissa just falls for them even more. Thanks

Here you go Anon. Hope you like it.

Larissa knew you must be new in town. You had to be. She would have noticed you before. As it was, she felt as if she’d been struck by lightning just watching you chat to the barista. Your laughter was like music to her ears and she felt a desperation to be on the receiving end of it.

Turning her gaze away she did her best to get her heartbeat under control. It had been a long time since she’d felt this way, and certainly never at first sight. There had to be something wrong with her. No grown woman should be feeling that way.

“Excuse me?”

She looked up from her coffee, having been staring into the depths of her mug. You were standing at her shoulder, smiling down as if she were the most wonderful thing you’d ever seen.

“Sorry, do you mind if I sit here?” you asked, “everywhere else is full.”

“Of course not. It would be a pleasure.”

She gestured over the table to the seat on the other side. You grinned, sliding into the booth across from her. You introduced yourself, and she repeated your name, finding it sweet on her tongue. Your eyelashes fluttered and your smile turned bashful.

“You’re new in town, aren’t you?” she asked, unable to help herself.

“I am.” You sounded so happy about it, “my aunt needs some help around the house now so I flew in to look after her.”

“That’s rather admirable,” she said.

“It’s family,” you said with a shrug, “what about you?”

And in that question she saw the crossroads in front of her. You were new in town, you clearly didn’t know who she was, but she was certain you knew about outcasts and their reputation in town. She had a choice, and she was desperate to make the right one so you’d want to stay talking to her.

“I grew up here,” she replied, not quite lying to you.

“Really?” You tilted your head, lips pursing, “you seem… different from everyone else here.”

Her heart seized but you were still smiling. She wasn’t sure what you were implying but she knew what she didn’t want you to be implying.

“Classier,” you said, your eyes sweeping over her, “more elegant.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling her cheeks warm up.

“Do I get to know your name?” you asked and she realised she had never introduced herself.

“Larissa,” she replied ignoring the flutter of embarrassment. You were turning her head upside down.

“Larissa.” It was like you were rolling around the syllables around your mouth. Heat filled her veins and she couldn’t help but stare, “is there anything about you that isn’t gorgeous?”

She wasn’t sure how to answer that. She ducked her head and listened to your bright laugh. When she looked up through her lashes you were smiling, bottom lip caught between your teeth. She had to fight against images of catching it between her own teeth.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to have dinner with me tonight?” she asked, before she could think about it too much.

“I’d love to,” you replied.

Which explains why she spent the next few months going into Jericho more often than she had her entire time at Nevermore. She ignored the whispers amongst the staff and students, only wanting to focus on you.

And she was focusing on you. So much. You were the first thing she thought about when she woke up and the last thing she thought about when she went to sleep. She craved you in ways she never had before. You were making it difficult to concentrate on anything but you.

Her arm was looped through yours as you took a slow walk around the town as the sun was setting. Your cheek was leaning against her shoulder and she was wondering how soon she could spirit you away back to your house for some privacy. She was itching to hear you moan her name.

“Principal Weems.”

Her stomach immediately sunk hearing the familiar voice of Noble behind her. She paused, turning to look behind her. He was looking between the two of you with evident surprise on his face. You were smiling, a little confused.

“It’s always a pleasure to see people from Nevermore mingling with people in town,” he said.

“Nevermore?”

Her head snapped down to you. Your brows were drawn together and your lips were pursed. Her heart stopped. She’d done such a good job of hiding that part of herself so far.

“The school,” he said, “surely you know who the lovely woman on your arm is?”

“Of course,” you replied, a smile replacing the confused look on your face, “we just try to keep the work talk to a minimum.”

“A very smart move,” he said, “well, you two have a wonderful evening.”

She watched him continue downtime street, whatever atmosphere between the two of you now laying smashed on the pavement. She extracted her hand from your arm, taking a step back from you. You opened your mouth then closed it when you saw the look on her face.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you’re the principal of Nevermore?” you asked and she hated the disappointment she heard in your voice.

“I know how the normies in town feel about us,” she said, “and I didn’t want you to feel that way about me.”

“Right,” you said and she couldn’t tell how you were feeling. She wanted to know how you were feeling.

“It’s alright,” she said, taking another step back from you, “we can just forget this ever happened. You’ll never have to see me again.”

“Wait.”

You grabbed her hand, stopping her before she could turn tail and run. She stared down at it, your thumb brushing along the skin of back of her hand, her breath catching in her throat at the feeling.

“What kind of outcast are you?” you asked, “you all have, like, powers, right?”

“We do.” She was hesitant to continue answering, scared of what the reaction might be.

“So what can you do?” You blinked up at her, all wide eyed and curious, “wait, can you read my thoughts? Please tell me you can’t read my thoughts. I’d be so embarrassed.”

“I can’t read your thoughts,” she said.

“Oh good.” You let out a big sigh, “because I have thought some really embarrassing things around you. So what is it you do?”

“I can…” Her eyes darted away from you then back to your face, “I’m what’s known as a shifter. I can change how I look.”

“No way!”

A spark of hope flared in her chest at how excited you sounded. You were practically bouncing on the balls of your feet and you still hadn’t let her hand go.

“I understand if this changes things,” she said.

“Of course it changes things.” Her heart sunk again at your words, “this is so cool.”

“What?”

“So you’re like Professor X and Mystique at the same time. That makes you cooler.” You shook your head, “I’m just all normal and you’re like a proper superhero. You’re amazing.”

“This isn’t an issue for you?” she asked, trying to wrap her mind around how the conversation was going.

“Only in that now I have to step up my game so much more,” you said, grinning up at her, “you’re so impressive I’,m gong to have to really work to impress you now.”

The laugh that burst out of her chest was so bright and surprising it shocked her into silence again. You were grinning at her, watching her with sparkling eyes. She gently cupped your cheek, light filling her. You nuzzled against her hand.

“Oh darling,” she murmured, “you already impress me.”

You melted against her when she kissed you and nothing had ever felt so right to her. She had no idea how she’d gotten so lucky with you.

“Now what was that about embarrassing thoughts?” she asked when you drew away.

“Uh uh, not telling,” you said, drawing her in for another kiss.

And just like that she forgot what she’d been asking about.

[hurlingsupport]

Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous (Gender Neutral Reader Insert)

200 Heart Special

This series gained over 200 hearts on Quotev, so I wrote this chapter in celebration! Unlike the 100 Heart Special, this chapter actually focuses on (non-canon) romantic development, so I felt that it was only right to post it on here as well. Also, just for context, I wrote this with season 3 in mind.

Your skin is warm, almost uncomfortably so. You'd think with the camp being surrounded by trees, you'd be spared from the sun; but no, it always gets through somehow. Pulling your collar away from your neck in an attempt to feel a nonexistent breeze, you spare a glance around at the almost empty camp.

Yasmina and Sammy had gone off together, for a reason you've long forgotten, Brooklynn is playing some game you don't know the name of with Darius, and Kenji is snoozing away on the couch. You tap your feet against the wooden ground, growing more and more impatient just sitting on your bed. And finally, you decide enough is enough. Jumping up from your bed, you make your way towards Brooklynn and Darius, the duo quickly giving you their attention.

“Hey!’ Darius sits up taller at the sight of you. “Did you wanna play?”

“We can start a new game for you.” Brooklynn offers as she sorts through her cards.

You squint down at the cards strewn about, shaking your head soon after. “No, I just wanted to know if you guys have seen Ben anywhere.”

Darius looks to his side in contemplation as Brooklynn tilts her head. Sadly, they both shake their heads.

“No, weren't you guys supposed to go do something today?” Darius asks, placing a card into the pile in the middle.

“Yeah, that's why I'm asking.” You huff, turning your head to see if you can somehow spot him through the foliage.

“Well, if he bails on you, just know that you're welcome to play with us.” Brooklynn places another card onto the pile, causing Darius to sputter.

“Wait, did you just win?” He looks utterly befuddled, as do you. Are they playing Uno? It looks different, though.

“Yeah, I told you, when the joker matches the suit, it beats everything.” Brooklynn confirms.

“But the suit was a heart, not a diamond.” Darius says with furrowed brows.

“Look…” Brooklynn begins to re-explain the rules to Darius, and you take that as your cue to leave.

Turning towards Kenji's sleeping form, you unapologetically shake him awake. He fumbles for a bit, covering his eyes with his arms and cursing nonsensically.

“Do you know where Ben is?” You ask, ignoring his mumbling.

“What?” He rasps.

“Ben. Where is he?” You repeat.

“How am I supposed to know?” He groans, taking a look around the camp. “What time is it?”

“Daytime.” You respond, leaving Kenji behind to recollect himself.

Did he not tell anyone he was leaving? No, it's more likely that he left, and no one really cared to ask. Ben left randomly quite often, which was fine since he always brought Bumpy with him, so he's probably safer than any of you are even at camp. Still, you wish you had at least a hint as to where he went. This is a gigantic island, and unlike Ben, you don't have any protection to ensure that you can go wherever you please.

With much reluctance, you climb down the treehouse ladder to look for Ben. You'd much rather try and run into him than sit around and do nothing all day. Of course, you could try playing that card game with Brooklynn and Darius, but just looking at Darius's confused face ensured that it would just worsen your mood.

Ducking to avoid an outstretched branch, you continue walking deeper into the jungle. Slapping bugs away from you served to occupy you for some time until your thoughts eventually overtook you. Would you and Ben have to reschedule your hangout? Did he even want to hang out in the first place? Well, he's the one who brought it up, so why would he ditch you and not the other way around? Not that you would ditch him. This place is way too boring to even think of doing that.

Now that you think about it, getting bored of Jurassic World is a little funny. That's like getting bored of roller-coasters. But, then again, if you were continuously riding a roller-coaster, you'd obviously get bored after a while. So, really, it's not that strange.

You wipe sweat from your face, hand brushing against the right side of your face. The skin is still sensitive despite being entirely healed. Sometimes, you wonder if someone could hit your brain if they stabbed something through it, but that's a gross thought, so you try not to wonder about it. You hate thinking about that. You should think of something else.

How far are you from camp? Not too far, probably. You've been walking at a slower pace than usual in hopes of spotting Ben. Still, you're getting a little anxious. Should you go back? Oh, but you really don't want to. This isn't too bad. You haven't run into anything scary.

A rustle to your right has you stopping in your tracks. Almost instinctively, you crouch down, turning in that direction so you could actually see what was there. The rustling continues, almost as if something was continuously going back and forth within the bushes. Could it be Ben?

Moving closer despite literally every experience of yours telling you not to, you almost get struck in the face by a giant boulder. Or, wait, no, that's not a boulder. That's a tail, an Ankylosaurus tail! And, when you stand to your full height, the dinosaur turns towards you, bellowing excitedly. Before you know it, you're being held in the air by Bumpy's head as you hug her. Wait a minute, if Bumpy's here…

You stumble a bit as she throws you back onto your feet, swiftly turning your head in any and all directions in search of Ben. And to your delight, he's not too far off. Crouching in front of a bush, Ben plucks some plump caterpillars from the leaves. You try to ignore the fact that those things are going in his mouth and instead quietly walk up to him.

“Are you trying to scare me?” He asks suddenly, squishing one of the wiggling insects between his pointer and his thumb.

“Not really.” You refute with a grimace. “Did you forget about our plans?”

Ben turns towards you, briefly forgetting about the bug in his hands as guilt crosses his face. “Oh, that. Yeah, sorry, I got hungry.”

“We have cans of food at camp.” You remind him.

“I have my preferences.” He says, eating the caterpillar in one gulp.

Holding back literally everything you want to say in response to that, you simply sigh.

“Do you… still want to hang out?”

He only hums.

“Ben.”

“I heard you. Come on.” He gets up without another word, walking in a random direction.

Dejected, you follow after him with a frown. If he didn't want to hang out, he should've told you before running off so you didn't waste your time trying to find him. But also, why didn't he want to hang out? Is he mad at you? Why would he be mad at you, though? You haven't done anything to him, or at least you don't think you have. Have you?

You cross your arms, a mixture of anger and worry stirring within your mind. Is it because you make a weird face whenever he eats bugs in front of you? But everyone else does that, so that can't be it. Did you say something that he took the wrong way? Well, thinking of that, a lot of the things you say could be taken the wrong way. Or, well, not exactly the wrong way, just meaner than you meant it.

Your thoughts come to a stop when Ben settles down onto the grass. Looking up, you realize he's taken you to a part of the island you haven't yet seen. It's pretty, honestly, a cliff overlooking a good portion of the island. You didn't know a place like this was so close to camp. You can even see some Brachiosauruses. Taking a seat next to Ben, you nearly jump out of your skin when a ‘thump’ sounds behind you, but a quick glance reveals the culprit to be Bumpy.

It's silent for an awkward moment until you realize Ben’s refusing to speak. So, you muster up the strength to say something to the boy you're sure hates you at the moment.

“Are you mad?” You ask outright.

Ben’s eyes flit to your form, silence stretching on.

“No. It's…” He pauses, collecting his thoughts. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah.” You answer maybe a bit too quickly.

“I, uh, I'm worried. About what's going to happen once we get back home.” He runs his fingers over the bark tied to his arm. “I know this is kind of random, but it's been bothering me.”

You find yourself shaking your head absent-mindedly. “No, I've been thinking about it too.”

“Good, good. Um, it's… I don't really know how to explain it.” He looks up at you. “I'm just not sure how it's going to go, y’know? I'm… different.”

You hum, nodding along to his words.

“I'm also scared I'll go back to the way I was. At the start, I mean.”

“I think you'll be okay.” You follow the tapping motion of his fingers before meeting his eyes. “If you want, I can remind you of every cool thing you've done on this nightmare island.”

“Can you remember it all?” He grins.

“Yeah, Ben, don't you remember when you beat Toro?” You say in a teasing tone. “And when you rode Bumpy while an explosion went off behind you?”

“Did I tell you about that?” He ponders.

“Wait, that actually happened?”

Ben barks out a laugh at your puzzled expression, and you can't help but crack a smile.

“When? I've never seen that happen?” You scoot closer.

“You weren't there. If you don't believe me, ask Brooklynn or Kenji.” He snickers.

“I'd think you're bluffing even if I did ask them.”

“I'm not!” He huffs. “Seriously, you just missed out.”

You groan, resisting the urge to smile when he smacks your shoulder.

“Did you want to tell me anything?” Ben asks suddenly.

“Like what?” You raise a brow.

“I mean, I kind of just ranted about my worries. What about you?” He implores.

“Oh.” You look to your side. “No, I'm fine.”

“Do you wanna talk about Mit–”

“I said I was fine.” You interrupt, anger flickering in your chest at the offhand mention of that poacher.

Ben goes quiet at your rejection, staring at you for a few silent moments. “Will you tell me about anything else?”

You don't reply for a few seconds, mostly out of pettiness. However, the silence gets to you eventually, and you mumble out an answer. “Do you… like your parents?”

“Well, yeah, I'd say I do. Why?”

You don't speak, at least not until his shoulder touches yours. It's a bit uncomfortable, considering how hot you are wearing your sweater, but you don't say anything about it.

“I… don't like my parents.” You mumble, ignoring how Ben leans in closer to hear you. “They're not… there.”

“Like, physically, or…”

“Mentally, I guess.” You specify.

“How so?”

“They, um, take these… medications.”

You feel sick. But you feel Ben leaning against you, and it feels like you can think better when you focus on the heat of his body rather than what you're saying.

“It just… bothers me.” You force out. It's not exactly true, but you'd rather not tell Ben the entirety of it.

Ben hums. “Is it prescribed?”

You only shake your head. He waits, likely assuming that you're going to continue, but you never do. This is the most he'll get out of you willingly, at least for now.

Ben grabs your hand, fingers intertwining with your own. “I think you'll be alright.” He assures you. “I'll remind you of how cool you are anytime you want.”

“Well, how cool am I now?” You lean into him.

“Cool enough to kiss.” He affirms.

“Wh– huh?” You stammer.

Ben uses his free hand to grab ahold of your face, pulling you closer until his lips meet your cheek. And now the only thing you're able to worry about is if he can feel how hot your face is from under his lips. Unknowingly, you clench the hand holding his own, and he holds you tighter in return.

He hums, eyes latched onto your surprised face. “Yeah, I think you're cool enough for two kisses even.”

And without another thought, he's leaning in again to push his lips onto your face. It's not even an actual kiss, and yet you're clumsily trying to find the words to tell him… tell him what? You're actually not too sure. The most you can think to do is hold his hand tighter and lean impossibly closer so his lips can meet their mark quicker.

[nyctophiliq]

✮ ┆ BEFORE WE DRIFT AWAY. dina woodward

— “I think I’m gonna miss your love when it’s gone.”

description.              after ellie williams left dina in pieces, wanting to or not, you are the one picking those pieces up and gluing them back together content warnings.               MDNI, suggestive content, female bodied reader, implied rebound girl! reader, pet names ‘sweetheart, darling’, reader is naked, interrupted (sort of)

author's notes.              okay maybe I chickened out on the smut a little but BUT promise it’s a little fun, I promise- maybe part two? maybe not? we’ll see but hope you enjoyed !!! special tag for @whore4abby because she helped me finish this madness

your eyes followed her every step, making sure that there wasn’t someone else lurking around just you, trying to take care of things. you probably had better options rather than stalking her, following her like a second shadow and prying into her life via the friends she had made at the camp. truth to be told, you were too shy to actually go up to her and strike up a conversation, just try and spark her interest in you.

she was… something else. you have had your share of running loves, most of them were so you could survive the state that the world was in and one or two were the kind of love that you saw in her.

you stop when she walks up to a small group of people, crossing her arms and began to chat with them. your heart flutters a little, feeling as if someone was watching so you ducked behind one of the houses close by, trying to be completely flat against the wall.

another truth, you liked this little chase that you have set up for yourself. not to say it wasn’t embarrassing to be committing to such ways to get to someone but there were worst things. it was especially humiliating to be thinking about her so much, particularly when you were… helping yourself out, let’s just say that. you swore that there was one time that you could see her pass in front of the window of the house you moved in just as you were in the middle of everything. it wasn’t even that long ago; it still disturbed your every thought that she might have heard you cry her name in the haze of your peak.

“you’re not really good at being quiet you know.” whipping your head back when you hear the familiar voice behind yourself, still clutching onto the house wall as if it made you invisible to everyone, especially dina who was face to face with you.

“w-what?! why would you s-say that?” you stutter, taking small step backwards but since you didn’t have eyes on the back of your head, you missed that one piece of wood that stick out of the mud, tripping over and falling into the pool of muck.

you groaned like an annoyed little kid- you just got new and clean clothes yesterday! shaking your head you look up, watching as the raven-haired girl smile wide before breaking out, laughing “s-stop laughing! it’s not funny…” you grunt, rubbing the nape as an attempt to ease the pain that your head colliding with the dirt caused. that was one of the aching points on your body alongside your back and hips.

“come on, I’ll help you out.” she offered her hand, still laughing although now it was under her breath, quietly as you scrunched your face up. giving it a few moment to sink in, another two to decide if you wanted to act all though and cool or you let yourself be helped out.

you choose the latest.

a firm grip meets both your palm and wrist when you catch her hand, a warm line, sort of lighting like force runs through your arm and it stuns you for a second. “thanks, dina…”

dina, dina woodward, that was her name- you knew it because you were one of the few who helped her move in with her son the first day she and her little group arrived here from god knows where. you could never forget the name that matched her face, a face that now was offering its help to run you a bath and get rid of all the mud you got on yourself.

a little hesitant and with a slight stutter, you accepted dina’s offer and followed her to her house to wash yourself up. it was a short walk thankfully, small hairs on your back and arms started to stand as you walked through the dirt streets of the community, feeling as if every eye was prying at you and what you were doing waltzing around with dina woodward.

thankfully your head quickly became occupied as you shudder when you touch the cold, sort of slimy but half dried mud at the hem of your shirt. your lunch runs up from your stomach but before it could make it’s goodbye from your mouth you swallow it back, not letting a little ick like that get the worst of you.

“come on, don’t be such a baby about it.” she speaks almost like she noticed you fighting your food. you set eyes on her, squinting in annoyance when being called a baby before slapping your arms onto your sides like one. “I’m not it’s just…I can’t pull it over my head alone. the shirt is a little too tight and the mud-“

“let me help you then, alright?” her tone is much softer now, just how you imagined it in the first place. you give her a small nod, letting go of the dirty shirt and allowing her to take a hold on the hem, lifting it up and pulling it over your head.

what an awkward feeling washed over you as you stood there topless, cradling your chest in your arms as you watched her smooth your shirt out and throw it somewhere behind her before suggesting you get out of your pants. gulping you agreed, trying to make it as quick as possible while also trying not to fall over and hit your head, die, and embarrass yourself. she takes the pants from your hand and as you get into the tub you mutter, “I’m sure your son is easier to handle than me.”

stupid- why would you even say something like that?!

she suddenly becomes silent, visibly uncomfortable as she shifts her position next to the tub. “he is, but I have my experience with adult babies like you.” her lips shake a little as she finishes her sentence, tossing your pants into a vat of hot water that you shirt was also in. you give her a nod and a neglectable hum, lowering your head a little and averting your eyes from her reflection that you saw on the window but still taking small glances at her from the corner of your eyes as she reached for a small bowl.

it was hard to hide, trying to mask the white of her eyes picking up a red tint as well as her continuous sniffing, the way her hand shook from time to time while her fingertips dragged across your scalp trying to wash the mud from your hair. sitting in complete quietness as she rinses the soap out of your hair, “everything alright?” you break the silence and the echoing sounds of the wet drops breaking on the surface of the now cooling water. she hums peacefully followed by another sniff before she rinses your hair for the last time.

it wasn’t convincing at all, much rather spiked the worry in you then calm down the nerves that were tingling along your spine and twisting your stomach. she sits down onto a blanket she set out for herself on the ground, knees close to her chest while her head rested on them, gazing at you as if there was something so interesting about you and the pathetic way you were curling in the warm water.

dina sighs, one of her arms coming over the edge of the tub and her fingertips dipping under the water with her eyes still on you. “yeah, the quiet just got me thinking…” her expression seems distant from this conversation, like she is still deep in her thoughts until her eyebrow raises, hand reaching out and she cups your face, her thumb running across a healing scratch on your cheekbone.

“if there is anything you want to get off your mind, I can listen.” you say, a small grin  accompanying your words as you let your head weigh down her palm. she doesn’t say a word, the sly smile and her narrowing eyes speak loud enough, your cheeks burning up and you hurry to pull away from her. “I’d forget it pretty soon anyway…”

“let’s get you out, the water is getting a little cold.” she says before standing up and turning around for a towel. it doesn’t really make sense to you, the water sure feels like it started to come to room temperature but maybe fighting with her wasn’t a way to get onto her better side.

the next couple of moments of her handing a tower over to you and you getting out of the tub, wrapping said towel around yourself feels so much longer and awkward that it really is. shoulder tensing, jaw clenching as you watch her step back and face you, one of her hand once again cupping your cheek.

dina’s other hand run up your side, not taking a stop at any of the folds until she reached the one that was keeping the towel around your body. you swallow hard, feeling her clothed chest rubbing up against your naked one and at the fact that her face was getting closer to yours.

“s’this alright?” she asks as her fingers tangle in the towel, loosening it around your chest just enough to if you make a longer movement it slips right off of you without any more help. you give her a nod, one that starts with your head slowly tipping before it picks up its pace and describes the thing you really didn’t wanna show- you were desperately in need of this.

it’s like she reads your mind that is running wild with untamed thoughts of kissing her, tilting your head to one side while she tilts hers to the other and have that kiss that you always saw in the movies as a little kid. a life changing kiss. one that starts out slow and picks up a sloppy, uncoordinated turn of making out before it has its peak with the unforgettable scene of slipping under the bed sheets and finally take care of the raging pits of fire that has been overheating your bodies since the start of your encounter all those weeks ago.

despite wanting to say something, to get the burning thoughts of needing her out of your head and into the open air so it no longer torments your every thought, you don’t. it’s a long-lasting kiss, that has you breathless in the first few seconds of it, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to pull away even when you can feel yourself fainting a little. what if this is the first and last time for you to experience her this close?

“aren’t you a little eager for this, sweetheart?” and if there wasn’t a sickening feeling in your stomach already, now totally was. she set a blaze in your heart, your blood pumping so fast you can feel it under your skin while the towel that covered you, now on the ground, it fell after dina moved in to kiss you and your body followed her lead to get closer to her.

“yes I am… I want it...” you manage to choke out; voice cracking slightly as she pulls away slightly, a faint smirk playing on her pretty features before she leans forward and kisses you again, only this time slower, teasingly, as if testing whether you could stay put with her lips on yours or not.  you let out a sigh before closing your eyes tightly, hands reaching up to grab her shoulders as you try to press yourself further against her, but it just didn’t work. dina’s tongue was invading your mouth and you couldn't help but give in to her advances, your body melting into her warm embrace and soon enough your knees felt weak beneath you.

but then you feel the tip of her nose brushing against your earlobe, her hot breath hitting your neck causing you to shiver.

“is there anything else I can do for you?” she whispers to you lowly, sending goosebumps down your neck and spine before she trails her teeth against your jawline and places a chaste peck there. you bite your lip, trying to keep your composure, but you're failing miserably with how badly you need her right now. she pulls away again, looking at you with her soft gaze. "to me it seems… there's nothing else you can do, but me..." somehow you get out with your voice barely shaking.

she took your hand in hers, chuckling and dragging you along with her as she stepped back out of the bathroom and into the living room, to the couch. it’s semi sweet of a feeling as the two of you maneuver around the room, trying not to bump into any of chairs and stray furniture all while your lips mold to one another, teeth clashing as the balance of your knees slowly give out.

“you’re beautiful.” dina whispers as she gets on top of you, her lips grazing the shell of your ear as the compliment leaves her mouth. your body shudders, your hand that is so uncertain as to where to be wraps around her neck and your legs tangle with hers. the small glance she got of you, those mere minutes that dina spent watching your exposed body was the most embarrassing and most delightful experience in your life. the attention she gave to only you, the attention you have been waiting for a while, and the way her wet lips sucked on your cooling skin was all a fever dream.

and dina was feeling feverish too, heat pulsing in her veins as she pressed her body harder on yours, grinding her pelvis against yours through the thin fabric between you, feeling your arousal growing inside you as her hands moved downward and settled around your torso. she wanted you, and she wants you so bad it makes her feel dizzy, dizzier than she’s ever been before with a new type of addiction, one she hasn’t felt for some time, but it feels just like old times when it was just her and...

she pulls away from you, letting go of your hips to cup your face and lean over to connect her forehead to yours, her warm breath tickling your skin and leaving goose bumps wherever it touches. the look in her eyes isn’t as innocent or as soft as it usually is, that playful glint is not there, and it makes you wonder- was it something you did?

"what is it?" you ask, leaning into her touch and pressing your forehead against hers. "there's something wrong isn't there?" the question leaves your mouth softly, your voice almost a whisper.

"just... my son, i think i've been away for a little longer than expected."  her answer is quick and simple, and it sends a spike of pain straight through your heart as it sinks in that she is leaving soon, that she won't be here for much longer...

"oh..." you mutter, trying to swallow the lump forming in your throat.

dina gets up from the couch, touching down on the cold hardwood floor before grabbing a blanket from the armrest, and handing it to you.

 you wrap it around your bare body, your arms tightening around the blanket. “i'll see you... around.” it's bittersweet as she hesitates to say it, knowing she needs to leave and that you will probably see her later rather than sooner, but she still kisses you before turning and walking towards the door, stepping outside of it, and closing it shut.

you sit there for a good minute or two, staring at the closed door with a dull and lifeless look. the air in the room stills, suddenly it feels colder now, the tip of your toes and fingers freezing as you stuck to the couch, trying to take in the last glances of dina through the window before she disappears into a smaller crowd.

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Why do you make me feel this way? - Chapter 4: Gift

Astarion knew why everyone had fallen head over heels for Tav. She was sweet and caring, and he'd been a fool to believe that she'd fall for his shameless attempts of seduction.

Gale made goo-goo eyes at her and stumbled over his grandiose words whenever he talked to her.

Halsin looked at her like a cleric at a statue of their deity and told her the sweetest things in the most genuine way.

Karlach was just her joyful self and wrapped Tav into a hug anytime she could since her mechanical heart was stabilised.

Lae'zel showed her affection by making less biting comments and by stopping to look down on Tav.

Shadowheart teased Tav flirtatiously and told her repeatedly how much she values her support and trust.

Wyll acted like an old-fashioned gentleman and thought that shielding Tav from danger was the right way to win her heart.

And Astarion? Astarion had held a dagger against her throat when they'd first met, fed from her every night to be even strong enough to fight at her side, and still struggled with nightmares about Cazador.

Astarion was broken and nobody wanted broken things. Tav would never choose to be his lover, everyone else was much better suited, and Astarion knew it.

Wistfully, the vampire spawn observed how the human bard praised Gale's stew, cooed at Halsin's carved wooden duck, gave Karlach a quick but heartfelt smacking kiss on the cheek, complimented Lae'zel's weapon-sharpening technique, encouraged Shadowheart regarding Shar's trials, commented on Wyll's footwork as he went through his daily training routine, and petted Scratch and the owlbear cup. Astarion's heart ached. Now, Tav walked over to him. The vampire spawn put on a cheerful smile and lilted: "Hello, what can I do for you?"

"Actually, I think I can do something for you for once," Tav replied, looking sincere. "While wandering through the ruins of Shar's temple, I found a couple of interesting books."

"Mh, yes, darling. We all know you love collecting souvenirs."

"You got me there," she chuckled, "but this is for you."

Tav thrusted a dusty tome into his hands.

"The book's about dealing with trauma and pain. I've read the first couple of chapters to see if it could be helpful to you and I think it could be. There are detailed instructions on how to work through unpleasant memories and how to 'digest' them instead of shoving them into the far back of your mind to try to forget them. You should read it and try out the techniques."

Astarion blinked at her dumbly.

"You want me to read a self-help book to 'get over' the torture that I endured for two hundred years?"

"Uhm, if you put it that way, it sounds tactless," Tav muttered and averted her gaze.

Astarion felt like a jerk, thus, he spoke his next words more softly: "I understand that you're trying to help, so, thank you. I can use a new, stimulating bedtime reading."

His undead heart skipped a beat when Tav beamed at him.

"Good. That's good."

Her hand lingered on his forearm for a bit longer than necessary before she turned around with flushed cheek. Astarion watched the bard go, holding her gift close to his chest. He desperately wished for the book to work like magic.

"Hm, your presence makes her blush like a peach that turns pink in the sunlight," mused Halsin.

Astarion jumped when the druid suddenly stood behind him and could barely hold back a startled squeak. The wood elf chuckled amused.

"No need to be alarmed, Astarion. It wasn't my intention to sneak up on you."

"But you did," replied the addressed huffily.

Halsin chuckled again, a rich, warm rumble from deep in his broad chest. Astarion imagined how cosy Tav would look spread out on that hairy torso. Next to the druid, she almost seemed dainty. The polar opposite of how she looked next to Astarion. The latter found the thought of being picked up by her alluring though – and rather hot.

Halsin cleared his throat und Astarion realised his mind had drifted away while his eyes were still staring at the druid's chest. Why was the wood elf so much taller, broader, and bigger than him? Astarion pursed his lips, slightly peeved.

"I do feel flattered by your attention, but it's a bit unnerving that you're so quiet," Halsin told him. His tone was warm, his eyes soft, and his smile genuine.

"Apologies, I was in thoughts," Astarion replied, truthfully. "Now, excuse me, druid, I have a book to read."

When he made his way past Halsin, the latter murmured: "Tav likes you."

"Obviously. Everyone likes me," the vampire spawn spoke with a wink.

The other man sighed.

"That's not what I meant. She... She has a big heart and you take up a lot of space in it. Cherish such a gift, Astarion."

The vampire spawn gaped after Halsin who walked deeper into the temple ruins to collect flammable objects to fuel their campfire.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Round 3, Poll 1

A Mother's Curse v. Ambassador to Madness

THE POLL IS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE POST! CLICK "KEEP READING".

A Mother's Curse: (Reverse Werewolf AU)

He and Falco silently slipped off into the woods, getting as close to Bywater as they could before Bilbo would need to prepare for the transformation. When the eastern sky started to show just the tiniest glimpse of light, Bilbo quickly stripped down and handed his clothes to Falco who stuffed them in his pack for him.

“Hey! What’s that?” His cousin asked, pointing to the bead hanging around his neck.

Bilbo clasped it in his hand to hide it feeling unnecessarily protective.

“Just a gift from a friend.” He answered.

Falco’s brows shot up, and Bilbo found himself annoyed by the reaction. He was allowed to have friends after all.

“I guess you really do know what you’re doing then. I hope your friend takes good care of you, Cousin.”

Bilbo’s expression softened, and he pulled Falco into one last hug as the first rays of the sun began to touch the earth. Bilbo fell to the ground, gritting his teeth as the transformation took him. His back arched at the shifting of bones under his skin, his body became warm and itchy at the new growth of hair all over, and his cry of discomfort tapered off into a howl. 

Bilbo slowly stood back on his four paws, shaking out the pins and needles, falling into a comfortable form once more. And wasn’t that a depressing thought. That he was more comfortable as a wolf at this point. Falco knelt down, scratching behind Bilbo’s ears, a sad smile on his face.

“I’ll miss you, Bilbo.”

Bilbo licked at his cousin’s hands whining at the tears forming on his face. He chuckled, wiping them away with a promise to get his bag to Gandalf. Bilbo watched him go, his ears lying flat against his head coming to the realization that this was it. As soon as he took a step, he was surrendering himself to the mercy of the dwarf’s quest. He would be leaving his home. 

He didn’t know how long he would have sat there contemplating his future, but the Shire was coming to life around him. He heard the whistling tune of the miller coming down the road, and Bilbo seamlessly melted into the shadow of the forest. It would be okay. He would be with his friend.

***

Bilbo picked his way southwest to the Three Farthing Stone, making sure to bypass Bywater. He assumed the dwarves would take the East Road as it was the main road in and out of the Shire, and at least at the Three Farthing Stone, he wouldn’t miss them. He wondered when they planned to hit the road. If his Aunt Chica was having to fuss over dwarves in her dining room for a hearty first breakfast. Honestly, Bilbo was realizing he knew very little about this quest.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t any place to hide by the Three Farthing Stone, and he was beginning to feel exposed. Bilbo took to pacing, then falling into the tall grass when he heard someone nearby, back to pacing, and sprinting for the treeline.

Ambassador to Madness: (Arranged Marriage AU)

Where he considers him a friend. What was he thinking by jumping into a courtship that could have disastrous results? If all that happened was Bilbo and Thorin revealed to each other that they were incompatible as partners, how awkward would that make the remainder of their marriage?

  Of course, Bilbo conveyed none of these worries to Ori. Instead, he spouted the story that Thorin and Balin approved.

“My husband and I’s relationship was a rather whirlwind affair, and while we did everything right the hobbit way, we never got the chance to court the dwarven way. And the terrible romantic that he is, feels obligated to hold true to his promise even now that we’re married.”

Bilbo had always been a well-practiced storyteller and he added just the right amount of fond chuckles and exasperated shaking of his head that the dwarf had perked right up in understanding.

“That is rather romantic.” The young dwarf ducked his head with a slight blush. “It would be my honor to assist you...only…”

Bilbo frowned. “Only?”

The dwarf blanched. “No! Not only! Of course I am happy to be of service, and will perform my duty to the fullest of my abilities. I just...well I am terribly curious if you wouldn’t mind sharing the story of how you courted the hobbit way after I finish?”

Bilbo fought to keep a neutral expression. Of course he would ask that.

“I-It’s not a terribly entertaining story.” Bilbo tried to laugh off.

“Still, as a scribe, I’m always interested to hear about other cultures. Besides, I think this soft side of our warrior prince ought to be recorded. At least just to offer perspective for future generations.” 

Bilbo tried to resist  the urge to sigh. “Of  course. You teach me to court the dwarven way, and I’ll be more than happy to teach you to court the hobbit way.”

Ori beamed as if Bilbo had just presented him a gift at Yule. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Bilbo.” He corrected once more. 

Ori nodded, but didn’t look the least bit sheepish. A wry grin split his face as Bilbo tried to rehearse the story a few more times to himself before he said it out loud. 

Bilbo began by telling Ori about the courting practices of hobbits. That there were essentially three gifts that had to be given and they were all flowers. The first described you as the suitor, the second described how you saw your intended, and the third described how you saw your lives together. Other than that, it was usually expected to share a few meals together, maybe even eat off each other’s plate if you were feeling bold. And of course, share a dance in front of everyone under the Party Tree.

Ori was scribbling down notes about as fast as Bilbo could provide them. 

“Okay, now tell me about you and the prince.” Ori beamed.

Bilbo chuckled nervously hoping he was remembering their fake story correctly. 

“Right. Well you know that we met after I found him wandering the Old Forest by himself?”

[freezingwhitefire]

Chained Across the Ages ; Prologue; Legend

The Hero of Skyloft is helped along his adventure because of the Hero's Spirit and how it can link the Links. This is the way it leads him to a different time.

Link felt fear as he sat in his bed. Fear and helplessness. Zelda had fallen, he had no way to reach her. He buried his head in his hands, his eyes closed tightly.

A sense of warmth seemed to fill him just before he heard a strangely familiar voice calling to him. Opening his eyes he looked up to see the blue and purple figure from his dream by his door. He stared at her indecisively for a long moment. That warmth seemed to give him a gentle push and before he knew it his boots were on his feet and he was racing after her.

That should have been the end of it... but it wasn't.

After finding the Kikwis he was gifted with a new tool and looking at the slingshot he felt confused. That warmth returned, this time he almost felt a set of hands arranging his hold on it. They guided his aim as he turned to face the coiled vine he was told would lead him to his next destination. As he loosed the seed and it struck the vine he felt a small surge of triumph. Delighted he practiced a little more until he felt confident using it without the other aiding him.

As he chased Zelda any time he felt too disheartened or alone he felt some sort of warmth or presence that helped soothe him, it wasn't always the same as the first two times but it was there none the less.

It wasn't until he was separated from Zelda and Impa that he felt the drive to truly push himself. Then the warmth often appeared when he needed to stop and rest. The one time he ignored it Fi appeared and forced him to stop by carrying him to a safe resting place.

The time he expected to be the final time was when he was facing Demise. He felt a small touch of fear but that warmth reminded him that he had many others depending on him. Holding tightly to the Master Sword he confidently met Demise's eyes.

As a result it was a shock to be awakened sharply by a sudden overwhelming pain. It felt as though his entire being was set on fire and being ripped apart. It wasn't a feeling he recognized as being his but rather a feeling from one of the others that helped him on his journey. As he recognized that Link wished that he had some way to actually help whoever it was that was experiencing it. He only became aware of how it was effecting him when he realized that Zelda, Groose, and Pipit were all holding him down while he was thrashing against them. His eyes snapped open as he felt a surge of Divine energy wash over him.

'Do you truly wish to help?'

'Yes.'

'Grab your sword then go to the Goddess' Statue. Once there call to me, I am Kishin and I shall guide you to where you must go.'

Link slumped to the ground and gasped for breath while trying to regain his senses.

"Link?"

Zelda?

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah... give me a minute."

Zelda clearly didn't believe him. Groose and Pipit both were standing behind her watching with concern while Karine and Fledge were there with them. He took an extra moment before finally getting up. Standing up he stumbled slightly as he tried to head towards his room. Zelda quickly ducked under his arm and supported him.

"What happened?"

"I... I'm not sure." He tried to think for a moment before he finally decided to share something he hadn't told Zelda yet. "While I was trying to find you there was something... someone else. It was a warm presence that helped me when I needed it or that guided me in using some of my new tools as I found them. I am sure without them I... I would have failed you. I think... I think they just got really hurt."

"So you're connected to them?"

"Yes, as far as I can tell."

"Well then let's get our things and go."

"I'm not sure you can come along yet... Kishin told me to grab my things and-"

"Kishin?" Zelda cut in. Link looked at her and noticed the worried but confused expression on her face.

"Yes?"

"He was my- Hylia's brother. She didn't know what happened to him."

"I'm not sure, the voice that spoke to me gave me that name and said to go to the Statue."

"Well I'll help you as much as I can here, and if I can join you I will. If not then I'll try to find anything out of place or odd. I'm sure the others will help too."

"Thank you, Zelda."

"Of course, now come on silly. You need to get ready to save your friend, right?"

"Right you are, my darling Goddess."

Zelda laughed and shook her head. "If I'm the Goddess then you are my Legendary Hero."

"Now that's a mouth full."

Zelda smiled, noticing that he was stalling a little. She turned to face him and cupped his cheeks.

"You'll come home to me. I know it. Focus on what you need to do first. We'll be fine until you can come back."

Link felt reassured by that and nodded. He finally went to his room and retrieved his gear. It didn't take too long to gather everything, and soon he was sneaking past Groose and the others while Zelda was distracting him. After reaching the statue he looked around curiously, he noticed that there was that sense of Divine power that lingered in the chamber where he found Fi.

"Kishin, I am ready."

A glowing silvery gold circle appeared below him and there was a brief sense of falling. He closed his eyes and decided to trust that he would be guided to where he needed to be.

[nowoyas]

Edible Arrangements 35

First - Prev - Next - M.list - Read on Ao3

A/N: APRIL FOOLS IT'S ON TIME YOU WERE FOOLED

SO. THIS MONTH. Is camp nanowrimo. I have made it my goal. To FINISH drafting edible arrangements for camp nanowrimo. which does not mean posting all of it. and may not be attainable. BUT it DOES mean the end is kind of sort of in sight. stay tuned for my mental breakdown.

Special thanks to @sincerelybubbles for taking a look at the first part of this chapter for me! <3

Chapter Summary: You wake up in the hospital.

Warnings: hospital stuff, assault mentions (non-sexual), emotions, blood, mentions of stabbing

Word count: ~5300

You are safe now, you’re sure.

You’re not sure who’s here, but you feel the burn of your bite marks and can make an educated guess or two, each a comfort rather than a curse. You’re relieved to think that

(you are not alone here you are being watched you are struggling to)

Breathe. Think. Figure it out.

Tenya would make the most sense. He had just left you, right?

…right? Despite all your fights, he cares for you. You fight because he cares for you. Maybe more than he should.

But that’s not Tenya at your bedside. You knew that already, of course.

Tenya had been long gone by the time you heard that voice.

Part of you cannot shake the idea that it should be Tenya, it was Tenya last time, but since when was there a

(last time no last time only this time you are already a)

memory of last time rolls off your brain, water off a duck, and your mind wanders to the next option.

It, unfortunately, would not be Hitoshi. He wasn’t anywhere nearby when you—when you—

When you heard the laughter. We will have to settle for that, seeing as you can barely wrap your mind around your own errant

(thoughts of the past thoughts of things you are not allowed to think of thoughts caged away thoughts that bring)

danger. But Neito is no danger, not anymore. Still you can’t imagine him coming to sit by your bedside in the

(hospital this is a hospital you are dying has anyone contacted)

Izuku.

It would make sense.

You were on your porch, weren’t you?

So Izuku would have been there.

He would have heard you

(scream why did you scream did they find her has she hurt anyone else or was it only you she)

hurt. A touch. Dull background noise becomes beeps, erratic. Beeps become voice. Voice becomes a home.

“I really don’t like how fast your heart is beating right now, [name].”

The touch leaves you and

(no longer can you focus you cant hear him cant breathe cant bring yourself to come)

home becomes a mumble. Mumble becomes a blur.

Who was she?

No, you know who she was. That much was obvious the moment you heard her voice, the moment you heard her laugh.

But who had she become? She had another face, you think. So she must have

(killed someone killed you you are dying the breaths are not coming and you are going to die and all is becoming)

Warm. Something presses against your shoulder. The one that doesn’t hurt.

Oh. The other shoulder hurts.

Why does the other shoulder hurt?

Your body is so heavy. Something is weighing it down, something heavier than mere things.

The lightest brush of fluff against your chin.

A whisper.

“Please, please wake up. I can’t lose you, too.”

Oh. He thinks you’re sleeping?

Come to think of it, your eyes take tremendous effort to open. But he sounds so worried. But you are so heavy now. Not your eyelids or your arms or your body but your you has become heavy. He has to understand that.

It is Izuku, isn’t it?

It must be.

But if it is Izuku, then—

You manage to form a word. The barest tremble of your lips and vibration of your throat gives you the momentum to open your eyes, and opening your eyes gives you back your sight, and at last you see the green fluff resting his head on your shoulder and trembling.

“Who’s…”

It’s just one word. Really, it’s all you can muster, poor thing. But it’s enough for Izuku’s head to rocket up and let you see the tears, and then you have the urge to reach up and touch his cheek. All you manage is a weak few inches off the bed, then a pathetic drop where your hand bounces on impact.

“’Zuku,” you slur out. It’s amazing how much effort that one nickname has become. Just to try its weight on your throat again, you let out a small half-laugh and repeat it. “’Zuku.”

“Oh my god you’re awake,” he blurts, and then he’s holding you as close as he can in this awkward position. “I’m so sorry he got to you. I’m so sorry he hurt you. I’m so sorry, so sorry, so sorry—“

“Sbeve okay?”

He pauses, pulling away to stare at your face. There’s tears already streaming down his cheeks. “Yeah. Yeah, Sbeve’s okay. He didn’t hurt Sbeve.”

“He?” you mumble. Something is heavy in your brain, too. Brain-heavy. Who weighed your brain?

Oh. A he. Not her, then.

“Yeah. [name], I’m so sorry that he hurt you. He should never have gotten close to you, and that’s my fault.”

He’s so kind. So sweet. You’ll love him as long as he’ll let you. As long as he’ll keep you around, you’re not going anywhere.

Clarity gone. Eyes still heavy. Alive is heavy. It is time to

(rest)

~

“How are they?”

“They woke up,” Izuku confides. “Not for long, though. Thanks to the morphine, they were really out of it. They acted like they didn’t even know what happened…”

“Hey, at least it got you enough power to leave their side for a minute,” Mina jokes.

“Yeah, maybe now you can tell us what happened.”

Izuku averts his eyes. Five pairs of eyes are staring him down, expecting answers, and he doesn’t have any. What answer is there beyond “I fucked up”? How do you answer for your own failures in the face of the near death of a loved one? What can you say? What can you possibly do except make sure it never happens again?

So that’s what he tells them. “I fucked up.” It’s all he’s got. “I expected that they would be safe.”

“Safe,” Tenya repeats. It’s the first thing he’s said since arriving at the hospital, his expression as hollow as his single word. “You expected that they would be safe.”

“From what, kero? That doesn’t tell us anything about what happened.”

“They… You have to understand, I never thought he would come back for me. If he were smart, he’d have figured out where I lived and never come close to me again.”

“Who?”

“My sire. He… he killed my parents, and countless other people, and turned me. And I couldn’t catch him because [name] would have bled out otherwise, but I know it was him. I saw him run. He attacked them to get to me. He nearly killed them to get to me.”

“This was… your fault…?” Tenya stares at him, wide-eyed.

Izuku hardens his gaze and stares right through him. “Don’t worry. I won’t let it happen again.”

“What, are you going to hunt him?” Neito has a hand on his hip. “Do you have experience killing vampires?”

“Do you?”

Neito looks unabashed. “I won’t pretend I’m innocent. In fact, quite the opposite. If you’re going to kill a vampire, you may want backup from someone who has that experience.”

Hitoshi snorts. “You have one failed kill under your belt. Cool it, Van Helsing.”

“One failed kill is much more valuable than no kills, failed or otherwise. I spent quite a lot of time researching vampires before all this happened. Try not to forget.”

“About that… [name] got me some holy water for the job. It’ll be rough, but… I’m not going to let this happen again, to anyone else. Ever.”

“Alone?” Hitoshi arches a brow. “I didn’t take you for the stupid type, but you have to realize you’re talking about facing off against a serial killer with a kill count in the hundreds. Didn’t the Death Adder take down more people in one night than most serial killers manage in their lifetime?”

“Fuck off,” Izuku spits, but it’s covered by someone else’s words.

“The Death Adder. You’re serious?”

“Yeah. [name] and I found out by accident doing an assignment. I wasn’t going to bring it up, but you guys should know what he’s getting himself into before letting him throw himself to his death.”

“Don’t bother,” Izuku says, and it comes out a growl. “None of you need to be involved. I’ll handle this, and you all can take care of [name].”

“You are stupid,” Tenya says.

“Excuse me?”

He doesn’t give Izuku the dignity of a response, merely grabs him by the shoulder and walks him out. As he walks, he casts a glance over his shoulder. “One of you stay with [name]. This may take some time.”

~

Every time you open your eyes, you’re haler and heartier and, perhaps most importantly of all, more restless. Keyly, if you don’t get out of this damn hospital soon, you’re going to lose your mind.

It’s been too long. Honestly, it’s been long enough for all of the more functional members of your friend group to justify going to get a change of clothes. A day, maybe two? Maybe longer. You’ve slept for most of it, but you know it’s enough. Enough for people to need to eat. Enough for the weight in your body to lift, just a touch. Enough for the police to have been by to ask you every question possible, as though you’re remotely cognizant enough to answer. Enough that Izuku informs you later they’ve already left the house and your house is no longer considered an active crime scene.

Enough that by the time the doctor comes into the room to check you over, you’re itching to ask him if you can leave.

But you don’t. You let him ask you questions, let him look over your wound. You were stabbed, just below the collarbone. Though he expresses worry about the wounds marking your neck, you brush those off with an embarrassed blush and a high-pitched “it’s all consensual, I promise”. Whatever he makes of that, you don’t have the headspace to consider right now.

All you want to do is be home. Pet your cat. Cuddle up to Izuku and apologize for the way you’ve been treating him. Talk to him about everything.

Tell him you love him.

“Given what you’ve told me and the condition you’re in, I’d say you’re good to go! We’ll get you checked out and send you and your friends home.”

You give him a shaky thumbs up with your good hand, which used to be your bad hand.

Burn scars on one arm, stab wound in the other. Bite marks decorating the spaces between.

Yeah, you’re a tapestry, all right.

When at last you leave, you find that everyone is still here, still waiting. Izuku is keeping a hand, firm and gentle, at the small of your back, supporting you even as he’s silent, walking you out even as he’s distant.

He must be blaming himself. Beating himself up because you got yourself attacked.

You’ll be sure to smack those thoughts out of him next chance you get. Whenever your arm doesn’t hurt too bad. The faintest twinges are prickling at your shoulder, though you’re sure the worst is yet to come. The painkillers have only just barely begun to wear off.

You wonder, idly, if that vampire venom Izuku tells you about can numb a wound of this magnitude.

Oh, shit. He’s not going to feed off of you for ages now, is he?

You nearly sigh at the realization. You'll just have to force him, or at least force him to find some other way to get the blood he needs. It'll take work, but you're more than willing to make sure your lovable dumbass genius vampire is taking proper care of himself.

Izuku's hand doesn't leave your back as your friends dart forward to mob you about the details. Mina is there, hugging your one good bad arm gently, like she's afraid you'll break if she holds you too tight.

"[name] I think you're cursed," she blurts out as she hugs you. "What happened to you? Izuku couldn't tell us much."

You shrug, one-armed, and shake your head. "Got stabbed."

"Who? Why? Weren't you with Tenya?"

Tenya flinches at the mention of his name. You shoot him a weird look.

"He had already gone home. I was just getting some air before I came inside because it was a nice night, and..."

Another weak half-shrug. "I don't really know what happened. Someone was there? Waiting? I definitely heard a voice."

"And then what?"

You shake your head. "I don't know. Look, I'm still drugged to shit, so can we do this later? I'm sure I'll remember more when I'm not all morphined up anyway."

She furrows her brow. "Yeah. Yeah, that's fine. But... call me when you're up to talking, okay?”

You nod, resting your head against hers gently. "Yeah. I'll call."

If you glow, if you don't, that's for you to say. And you say nothing.

~

Izuku is quiet as he takes you home. There's not much of any words shared between you on the drive, or getting out of the car (a "thank you" when he goes out of his way to open the door for you and support you to the porch and beyond), or even once you're safely inside, cuddling Sbeve. It's partially just because you're exhausted—you could sleep for hours right now, but you've got too much going on in your head to even consider it. Body heavy, mind racing.

All you want to do right now is remember what happened. You don't understand why you can't. You don't understand anything right now.

But, as you watch Izuku silently move to disappear somewhere in the house, you know you need to stop him.

"Izuku."

He pauses at the foot of the stairs, giving you a wounded look. "I'm sorry," he blurts. "Really. I'm so, so sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?"

He doesn't respond, gripping the railing with one firm hand.

"Izuku, honey, this wasn't your fault. I know you're going to blame yourself, but you have to understand, no one could have seen this coming. I was stabbed because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time—"

"Our house?" He turns to face you fully now. "[name]. You live here. If this was the wrong place and wrong time, then you never should have been here in the first place."

The thought drops into your stomach with a wet plop. "Y-you're not saying—"

"I just... this never should have happened to you. Not while I was here. And I'm really angry at myself for that. I'm not going to stop being angry at myself for that, you know?"

"I'm not asking you to pretend like nothing happened. But... come on, Zuzu. If you feel bad, if you wanna make it up to me... let's have a good night. Cuddle the kitten, cuddle each other, breathe and recover from a really shitty day. Order out..." You shoot him a pleading look. "Let's get some pizza or something. Stop thinking about the outside world. Please."

He hesitates, that same wounded look on his face. You almost think he's guarding himself, the way he watches you.

"Please, Izuku? I'm tired. I don't want to be alone right now."

He sighs, takes his hand off the banister. He's across the room to you in seconds, careful not to crush Sbeve as he takes you into his arms. "I really am sorry."

"I know. I believe you." You don't have the arms to hug him back between Sbeve and the sling, but you press your face into the crook of his neck and sigh. "I'm sorry, too. For the way I've been acting. For all of this. I know that the world is crashing down right now, but I never meant to add to that."

"It's okay. We're here now."

And he holds you, and you are held, and all is going to be okay. You have to believe that.

~

You wake up alone, in Izuku’s bed. It’s peaceful, warm. Your shoulder screams in the moments you come to. The fucking painkillers must have worn off—you reach blindly for the bottle, wincing a smile when you find that it’s in reach with a glass of water. Lid cracked so you don’t have to fight medicine bottle lids with one working arm. He’s even made sure they’re not the prescription strength ones, not yet. Not until you’re sure you need that level of pain relief.

He’s too good to you. Too perfect.

You’d spent the night watching TV, fighting off Sbeve, and eating delivery pizza on the couch cuddled up to Izuku. It had been nice. You must have fallen asleep curled up with him like that.

You manage to sit. Manage to down the painkillers and the water—the entire glass, because you know he’d shake his head at anything less than every drop, especially with the day—days? how long has it been?—that you’ve had.

And, blessedly, it’s nearly a perfect day. You slip downstairs, get Izuku’s help notifying the dean of your latest medical emergency so you can be excused from classes for a bit to recover, and just to be sure, pass on the message to your professors, as well. Mina’s got your back for one class, Neito for another, and there’s no saving your bio lab, but that professor will just have to get over it because there’s no way in hell you’re doing science with a fresh stab wound.

If you revel in not leaving Izuku’s side? If you’re thriving at the closeness after ages of not speaking? That’s for you to know. You’re keeping lots of those things to yourself nowadays, hiding away from everything. Not leaving the house is your domain.

So you sigh into another night asleep at Izuku’s side, blissful as though you’re not ignoring the fear you feel in the shadows.

Izuku is on his phone when you press into his side. “What’re you up to?”

“Just scrolling, I guess.”

“Just scrolling? I didn’t take you for the type, Dr. Midoriya.”

He laughs softly. “Good to see you’re feeling more like yourself.”

“I missed you,” you admit.

“I missed you too.” His voice is quiet. Another day, another night, when you weren’t so comforted by his presence alone, you might have noticed it. Might have noticed just how off he seems, how off he’s seemed ever since you returned from the hospital.

But that’s not what happens. You don’t notice anything. You fall into quiet contemplation, letting your eyes drift shut. Listening to his breathing and his unnaturally quiet, quick heartbeat until you can sleep in spite of the pain.

You pretend not to notice when you feel the chest beneath your ear shift, nor when you feel the pair of lips brush your forehead. No need to ruin it.

~

Izuku: I need to know for certain that you’re in on this.

Izuku: There won’t be any going back.

The text comes back, scarcely a few minutes later:

He ruined my life, too. Are you sure you’re okay doing this to them?

Izuku: I’m not giving them a choice.

~

There is someone downstairs. You are alone in the room with Sbeve, and there are multiple people moving around downstairs.

It’s too early in the morning for Mina to be here. Tenya would probably still rather die than set foot here without your explicit begging for him to be nice to Izuku. Neito’s not allowed without proper adult (read: Itsuka’s) supervision. Tsuyu might, but her footsteps don’t sound quite so heavy.

And then you hear a voice, and you know it doesn’t belong to anyone you know.

You slip out of bed, down the glass of water waiting bedside, and slip downstairs.

And your world comes crashing down.

“Izuku.”

The door closes behind the man who’s just left. No one you recognize. You don’t care.

“Why are there a bunch of boxes in the living room?”

He turns to face you, pale. “You should be resting. You have a lot of healing to do.”

You shake your head. “Not that much. The noise woke me up.”

“I’m sorry.”

You understand immediately: he isn’t apologizing for just the noise.

There’s something else going on.

“I’ll ask you again. Why are there a bunch of boxes in the living room?”

…

…

…

“Izuku.”

He isn’t meeting your eyes. He isn’t answering you.

A pit settles in your stomach.

“Please tell me that I’m misunderstanding.”

“[name], you were attacked because you were close to me.”

Oh no. You are not misunderstanding.

“Izuku, you know this wasn’t your fault—“

“Whose fault was it, then?”

You freeze. “Izuku—“

“You were attacked. You were attacked because you were at the house I own, because you were close to me. Because you were here.” There’s tears in his eyes now. You can barely look.

“I think you know you’re being stupid. And I want you to know that you’re being stupid.”

“I’ll pack for you. I won’t make you do all the work. Any of it, actually. Not with your shoulder. But really, it’s safer if you just…”

“I’m not going anywhere, Izuku!”

Your face burns with the outburst, but you don’t regret it a moment. You’d throw things if you had anything to throw or the arm mobility to throw it with.

“Don’t you get that it’s for the best? I’m trying to protect you!”

You flinch away, wounded. Izuku has never raised his voice at you. He’s never raised his voice at all, not as long as you’ve known him. He doesn’t get—doesn’t get angry. Least of all at you. But here he is, baring his teeth, hurt in his eyes, voice loud.

“If what you really want is for me to leave, then I am not going to say no.” Your words are careful, controlled. Forced. “But I need you to say it. Tell me directly.”

Your words are met with guilty silence.

“I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Izuku. Do you want me to leave?”

“…yes.”

One word. Just one blinding word. The flash of his word is brighter than any flashlight you’ve ever seen, any LED headlight or spotlight or floodlight. It hurts just the same.

Liar.

The biggest lie he’s ever told in front of you.

The biggest lie you’ve ever seen.

Your head screams in protest, his glow offensive. You force yourself to look directly at him. Force him to look directly at his effect on you.

“But I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here. With you.”

No response. He’s glowing far too brightly—he washes out the room. You can’t see his expression, can barely even tell whether he’s looking at you. It’s job enough to look at him, but you force yourself as best you can.

“I know you’re lying. I know you don’t want me to go.”

“I don’t want to see you hurt,” he says, voice measured and evenly empty. Every word of the truth dilutes his lie, just a touch. Each word makes him just a bit easier to look at, just a bit less painful. Your vision is still spotty from the flash. “I am not enough to protect you like this. I’ve never been enough to protect anyone, I’ll never be enough, and if you think he won’t come back—“

“You really don’t get it?” You sniffle. Don’t cry. Please do not cry right now. You meet his eyes, desperately pulling back your tears. The words come running out. “I don’t give a shit about that. I don’t care about whether you think I’m safe. I know I’m safe with you, I’m in love with you, so please…”

He freezes at the admission. “You’re what?”

All you can do is nod. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I swear I’m not saying that because of the money. I mean it. Everything could come crashing down around me but, as long as you’re there with me—“

He staggers forward, interrupting you by firmly placing his hand on your good shoulder. He drags his eyes up from the floor to meet yours, pain written clear as day across his face.

Pain.

Not love.

Pain.

You're about to enter a lifetime of regret and recovery from this horrible failed confession while he's trying to kick you out when he interrupts again.

"Can you... can you say it again? Please. I need... I just need to hear you say it again."

"I love you, Izuku." There's no waver to your words now. "I want to stay in this house because you are in it. I feel safe because you are here. I will always be glad I met you, no matter what you do and what happens. I love you, I love you, I—mmph!"

His lips crash onto your own, clashing awkwardly against yours as you fail to finish your confession. One of his hands slides up to cup your cheek—the other trails down your arm, fingers brushing over the scarred-over skin and intertwining with yours at the end. When you relax into the kiss, you feel a gentle squeeze.

The press of his lips against yours is slow, sweet, innocent. Softer than you’d expected. Even as your tears are slipping down your cheeks to mix with his, the contact sets your nerves alight. His forehead rests against yours, eyes still closed as he brushes away a track of tears with his thumb.

Another lingering kiss. Then, a third.

“I love you too,” he whispers at last. “I love you so much it hurts. The past week, not getting to hold you or even talk to you, has killed me.You kissed me on New Year’s and I thought I’d died, but then you didn’t r-remember so I’ve been stuck replaying it in my head. Mourning the fact that you forgot.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll never forget this one.”

He laughs, a wet, teary laugh. “I—I’m gonna live for a long time, you know? And as you are, you can’t follow me. It’s not possible and it’s not safe.”

“But I want to try.” You watch his face, his closed eyes, his perfect long lashes. Try not to count the freckles as his expression twists with emotion. He brings your hand to rest over his heart, just a moment. “I’ll follow you wherever you’re willing to take me. As long as you’re willing, I’ll be here. We don’t need the boxes. Just each other, and Sbeve.”

His eyes crack open just a touch, finding yours in an instant as he kisses your fingertips in turn.

“You’re a kind soul, [name]. You deserve to live a normal life. You deserve to die a normal death. You deserve to go about your days without pain, or heartache, or, fuck, definitely without having to worry about the kinds of people who wait in the shadows to stab you and narrowly miss a major artery, leaving you bleeding out on the porch.”

“How close did I come to dying?” It’s not the right question to ask. But it’s an answer you need to know.

“Too close. Way, way too close.”

He brings your hand to his forehead, your knuckles brushing the fluff of his bangs as his eyes drift shut again. You pretend not to notice the additional tears still slipping down his cheeks.

“Izuku…”

“So close that I know for sure I can never let that happen again. I can never put you in that danger. And the best thing I can do to make sure that you’re safe is to let you go before he can hold your life over my head. It’s the only thing I can do to keep you safe, until I know he’s dead.”

“Izuku, you don’t have to do that,” you plead, the horror flooding back in a tsunami. “I don’t want you to do that. I don’t want you to let me go. I don’t care if I get hurt! Will you please just listen?”

He shushes you gently, his breath fanning hot against the skin of your exposed wrist. “I care if you get hurt. Sorry, but that isn’t changing.”

“Izu—“

“Please, don’t make this any harder than it is. If there were a way for me to protect you, and for you to stay by my side, I’d wake up every day with you in my arms. But look at you. Look at what’s happened to you since I met you. You’re covered in scars and scabs and burns and stab wounds. I want to give you the life and death you deserve. If I can give you that, that’ll be enough to make me happy.”

He tilts your wrist to the side.

No.

Not this.

He places a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist, and you slam your eyes shut. “Please don’t.”

“Thank you, [full name]. For telling me that you loved me. Even if you didn’t mean it, I’m really glad I got to hear those words from you. I’ll never forget the sound.”

You take a peek, fearful of what you’ll see. But his eyes are closed; his lips brush against your flesh with each word. “I did mean it, Izuku. Every single word. I’ll say it to you as many times as you need.”

“Can I ask you to do something for me?”

“I won’t leave.”

A bitter chuckle. “No, not that.”

Look at the freckles dusting his perfect skin. Do not meet his eyes as he speaks. When he makes his request of you, shake your head and try to close your eyes. Do not let his eyes meet yours. When he asks you not to forgive him, even if you someday remember him, do not panic when you realize that you can’t close them. Panic will change nothing. Do not look away as fangs that have pierced your skin countless times before brush against it again—always tentative at first, always searching for something.

Look into the green eyes locked onto yours. Do not cry. It will not change how red his eyes are as a result of the tears he has shed this morning. It will not cause his resolve to falter. Do not let those tears fall onto his expensive carpet, or onto his chest, which is now pressed against yours. Pay no attention to the movement of his second hand in place to hold you close. None of that matters, because even if you had the will to move, you would find that you cannot.

In this moment, your body is not your body. It is an object which things are happening to, and you cannot control this. If you tried, you would find that you can no longer control any of this.

Try to pull your eyes away, to close them as you make a final plea for this to not be happening, even as everything else slips away. Allow the shift in the green that remains to a brilliant red to fascinate you. Allow it to distract you when, at last, his fangs pierce your skin with apology and tenderness. Allow the tears to fall as the world around the two of you slips away like sand from your fingers.

What matters now is not what is happening in these words. While you may find that you want to stop this, to yell at him to stop, to pull away before it is too late, it has always been too late. The reality remains that you cannot change this.

Note how he presses a final, sweet kiss against the seeping wound when he is done. Note how sorrowful his eyes are as they fade from red back to the green of every forest. Note how there is no telltale glow to his skin when he offers his last apology, nor his last “I love you”.

Close your eyes as he lets you go, and then…

Then?

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[winters-mistress]

the gentle pain of change

"Are-are you alright?" Geralt scratches the back if his neck awkwardly, leaning against the stone mantlepiece that he had just finished stoaking and prodding, and now the logs roared with fire and flame, warming the chamber really rather quickly now that Eskel had patched up the windows.

His new ward looks up at him, her eyelids drooping as she takes stock of the large witcher.

"It's alright," her voice is tired. "Obviously, I'm very greatful to you all, happy to do my bit if you all help me learn how do chores and stuff. And being indoors with food and a bed is obviously far better than the road. But it'll take a bit of time to adjust to the cold, the wind. And-" she trails off, looking up at him, clearly trying to figure out the words to not irritate him.

"My brothers, Vesemir?" Geralt guesses. Ciri licks her lips, looks down, fiddles with the blankets. "It's alright, girl." He tries to lighten his voice. "They just need a few days to get used to you, you're the first human up here in a long while. And the way you look-"

"What? What about the way I look? What's wrong with it?" Ciri's voice is quick, her eyes big. She's not frantic, but she's certainly worried.

"Calm down, Ciri." Geralt huffs, walking over towards her. "It's nothing you've done or haven't done, nothing you've said or haven't said. Just-" he sits down on her bed. "You look like someone, someone who Eskel would rather forget. She was blonde, too, hunted and extraordinary." He shifts. "You remind him of her, that's all. I'll speak to him about it, its not fair to you to have him treat you wrong becaude of what she did."

Ciri is baffled, but glad to have him on side about his strange brother.

"And the one with red hair?" She asks.

"He's just an arsehole. He'll be prickly for a few days, will probably be snide and sly. But something else will catch his attention soon enough and he'll get used to you being here. But if he goes too far, you tell me and I'll sort him out, okay, girl?"

"Alright," she says quietly, ducking down to hide her smile. He's a good man, she realises. Gentle and protective, even if he is gruff and grizzly.

"Uh-" He pauses. "Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Another blanket?"

Ciri shakes her head, her fingers trailing closer towards his hand. "No, thank you." She looks away, trying to find something to say. "Uh, and the third one? He's very imposing, don't want to piss him off. He looks like he could throw me off a snowdrift if I say the wrong thing."

Geralt snorts. "He's fine enough. Vesemir, his name is. He's the mentor of all of us. Uh, don't be a brat and do your chores and lessons and you'll get along fine."

Ciri's eyes widen. "Lessons?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Did you think that you'd just do chores all winter? You're hardly gonna have an easy life after-" he winces as Ciri does. It's a crushing reminder of what shes lost, everything and everybody thats been taken from her. "-but it'll do you good to know about monsters and swords, how to fly an arrow. We're witchers, can't teach you much else, but we can teach you to fight. Defend yourself."

Ciri smiles happily. "Thank you." She pauses. "Grandmother would never let me fight, wouldn't let me learn. I always wanted to."

"Really?" His eyes widen. "That's a surprise. She was a formidable woman, a force of nature."

She nods. "She was, it's something she and Eist always fought about. He wanted me to be just as much as a warrior as her, as much as a skelligan shield maiden. But Grandmother wanted to do all the fighting for me. So I could be a lady, like my mother." her voice trails and she feels the pain in her heart. Grandmother and Eist, her second parents who loved her and protected her and taught her, and who have been taken from her now. Taken just like her mother and father on that boat, the pain of loss is too great and now she has Geralt staring at her with big golden eyes, they're sad and sympathetic and now she has no reason to not think about Calanthe, Eist, Mouseack, Lazlo and Danek and Adon. There's nothing to distract her now and she can feel the tears slip down her cheeks.

Her breaths stutter and she covers her face as the tears stream down her face. She cries helplessly, until suddenly a heavy hand is in her hair. It lingers there for a moment, before running along the length. It's a grounding weight, and she sniffles as more tears come.

Thick arms wrap around her and she's pulled towards a broad chest. She helplessly cries as her face meets a damp cotton shirt. Her hands tighten around it, feeling messy hair get tangled in her fingers.

"Shh, its alright, Cirilla. I'm here, it's okay. It's all going to be alright. Let it out, girl."

[ravensilversea]

Title: The Art of Butterfly Photography Author: Raven_Silversea Rating: T Pairing: Chrome Dokuro/Sasagawa Kyoko Tags/Warnings: butterfly garden, Fluff, Dating, Kissing, Established Relationship, Butterflies, Photography

Summary: Kyoko has indulged Chrome's photography hobby by taking her to a butterfly garden. There are butterflies, and selfies, and kisses, and Chrome loves her girlfriend so much

Ao3

Air blasts out of the white box unit above the door as Chrome pushes it open with a hand. The sound fades quickly as the door closes behind her and Kyoko, replaced by the sounds of running water, quail calls, and rustling leaves. Green plants tower along the winding sidewalk, reaching for the fine netting situated at least a story above their heads, dotted with bright tropical flowers.

Chrome breathes in the fresh, clean air and smiles back at Kyoko. “Thank you,” she says, already fiddling with the camera around her neck. She exchanges the short lens for long, spins the dial to close-up mode.

Kyoko bounces on the balls of her feets, clapping her hands together. “Of course, Chrome-chan! I haven’t come here since I was little, and this was the perfect excuse anyway.” She wraps an arm around Chrome’s shoulders and holds her phone out for a selfie. Chrome looks up from her camera to smile at the Kyoko on the phone screen. One click later, and the moment is captured forever: Kyoko on the right, cheeks flushed the same soft pink as her shirt, and Chrome on the left, bangs pushed forward by Chikusa’s spare beanie, almost covering her eye-patch and drawing the eye to her soft smile.

Forget any pictures she takes today, Chrome wants that one in a frame on her bedside table so it can be the first thing she sees every morning. 

Her phone chimes as she tucks the short lens back into her camera bag, and she catches Kyoko’s eyes knowingly. Kyoko giggles and clutches her phone to her chest in that particular way that means not only has she sent Chrome a copy of the picture, she has already set it as her new phone background. A warm affection fills Chrome’s chest so much she thinks she might burst from it.

Ducking her head, Chrome takes a moment to run a finger along her patch, making sure the straps are straight under the beanie. Then she spins the camera bag to rest against her hip, freeing Ken’s jacket from being bunched under the strap and tugging at the collar of Mukuro’s band shirt so that it doesn’t press up against her neck so much. Each of the boys had taken offense to her outfit when she laid it out last night and had insisted on styling her themselves. She’s decided to take it as a token of their blessings on her relationship and as something like a lucky rabbit’s foot for the date to go well.

Of course nothing comes free with them, that would be admitting a weakness, a fondness for her, so she had a short list of things to bring them back in return from the gift shop- fun socks and a book for Chikusa, some kind of game or puzzle for Ken.

A picture of a Blue Morpho butterfly for Mukuro.

Checking her camera settings one more time and taking a test shot of a flower near the entrance, she turns to Kyoko and asks, “Ready?”

“Ready!”

They move along the sidewalk, pausing to take pictures of the butterflies gliding through the air and drinking nectar from the flowers. A white-and-cream butterfly with black stripes and dots similar to a monarch kindly opens it’s wings while sitting on a leaf, and Chrome snaps a couple pictures. Another picture of a small black one with a red and cream spot in the center of it’s lower wings drinking from an orange flower. Switch to her phone to take a picture of Kyoko grinning and pointing to five brown-gray-blue, perfectly orb-shaped quail amongst the foliage in a corner.

The Blue Morphos they see are clustered on banana halves, drinking the rotting juice. Their wings folded up so the brown undersides and large eyespots are visible rather than the brilliant metallic blue they’re known for. Chrome takes several pictures of the butterflies, but they keep twisting around in the hopes of seeing one flapping it’s wings on a leaf or something similar.

“Over there!” Kyoko whisper-shouts, pointing across the water feature beside them. Chrome follows her finger and sees it: A Blue Morpho flittering along over the water feature. She pulls her camera up and frantically tries to get it to focus on the moving butterfly. Kyoko’s phone camera clicks once, twice, three times. By the time, Chrome’s brought her camera into focus, the butterfly is gone.

Kyoko shakes her head as she flips through the pictures she took. “I didn’t get it either, Chrome-chan,” she says.

Chrome shrugs. “We’ll just have to keep trying. If we don’t get it, Mukuro-sama will understand.” But he’ll be disappointed, and Chrome doesn’t want to disappoint him when he’s done so much for her.

They keep following the path in a dance of whirling steps and whipping turns as they chased the Morphos flying from one plate of bananas to the next. Chrome manages to get a blurry half a wing at the edge of a picture; Kyoko manages to get a picture of one closing it’s wings, the smallest sliver of blue visible.

They pause and take selfie together while sitting on a bench. An emerald swallowtail sitting in Kyoko’s hair while another white-and-cream settles on Chrome’s outstretched finger.

They sit on that bench for a while, watching people pass by and just enjoying each other’s company. Kyoko rests her head on Chrome’s shoulder and weaves her fingers between Chrome’s. “This is a good day, neh?” 

Chrome hums in agreement. “Any day with you is a good day,” she whispers. “The butterflies and photography practice is just a bonus.” 

“If only the Morphos would cooperate.”

Chrome hums. “We did get lots of pictures of them though,” she says with a laugh. She looks at Kyoko, who lifts her head to smile up at her so brightly her eyes almost close. Before she has a chance to overthink it, Chrome darts forward and presses a kiss to the corner of Kyoko’s mouth.

Kyoko giggles. “Don’t forget the other side,” she says, and Chrome kisses the other corner of her mouth. She then presses a kiss to the tip of Kyoko’s nose for good measure.

Then, Kyoko wraps both arms around Chrome’s neck, hands locked together, and she pulls Chrome into a gentle kiss. Their lips curve upwards in shared smiles, even as they press their lips together. It’s only the ticklish feeling of butterfly legs settling on Chrome’s hands that pulls her away from the moment. She looks down and laughs. 

A Blue Morpho flutters its wings as it almost dances in place on her hand. Kyoko oh so slowly pulls a hand down from around Chrome’s neck and reaches for her phone. As her fingers graze the phone case, the Morpho flutters away.

The phone camera shutter clicks seconds too late.

“Oh,” Chrome sighs. “We were so close.”

“Or maybe just close enough?” Kyoko holds up her phone, showing off a picture of a blurry, almost streak of moving blue. The Morpho is just in focus enough to be identifiable as a butterfly.

Chrome stares at the picture just a moment longer. Then she grins like a loon and pulls Kyoko into another breathtaking kiss.

[pastelraccoons]

SuleMio Week Day 7: Gardeners

(If you’d rather read this on AO3, you can read it here!)

Suletta stared hard from her porch towards the rather empty backyard. She had just moved into her new home and unpacked everything, but something definitely felt off about her outside space.

It’s too lifeless, she thought. Suletta scratched at her cheek. Maybe I could get some chairs and a table? Oh, maybe some plants for a garden? That would be nice.

She nodded to herself. She pulled her phone out of her pocket to search for local greenhouses. After all, she’d rather support smaller businesses than some giant company. She quickly opened her browser and searched for ‘greenhouses near me.’

After scrolling for a little bit, one finally caught her eye: the Rembran Greenhouse. It was only about a mile away, an easy enough bike ride for her, and the reviews were phenomenal. They mainly mentioned the sheer variety of plants available and that the owner knew what she was talking about.

“Sounds like the perfect place!” Suletta said to herself.

She slipped her phone back into her pocket. A small grunt came from her when she pushed off the railing of the porch. She quickly ducked inside to grab the small backpack she kept by the door so she could easily bring back any plants she bought. Suletta paused for a moment to lock the door behind her. Then, she jumped off her porch, ignoring the few steps that led into her yard. She made her way towards her bike that she had propped against the side of her home.

Picking it up, she threw a leg over it to perch herself onto its seat then pushed off towards the greenhouse.

-----

The summer sun warmed Suletta’s skin. A slight sweat clung to her forehead that she wiped away with the back of her forearm. Several large greenhouses were lined up in a neat row. A small, white truck branded with the greenhouse’s name was parked nearby. The rumble of a lawnmower from somewhere in the distance cut through the air. She carefully leaned her bike against the fence at the entrance.

The gravel pathway crunched beneath her shoes. Peeking into the first greenhouse, she could see rows upon rows of brightly colored flowers. Concentrated pollen tickled her nose then made her let out a loud sneeze. With a sniff, she shook her head.

I don’t think I want to grow flowers, Suletta stuck her hands into her pockets while moving on to the next building. Something practical would be nice, like vegetables.

Suletta stuck her head into the next one to see more of the same. A disappointed sigh fell from her lips as she moved on.

The last seemed promising when she stepped inside. The heat and humidity inside pressed down on her when she started to move through the rows of produce. Anything she could imagine seemed to be in there. Brightly colored peppers were to her right and fragrant herbs to her left. As the choices swam around her head, the sound of what she assumed was a shovel being stabbed into soil finally registered in her ears.

Suletta walked in deeper until she finally found the cause of the sound.

A rather petite woman knelt down in front of a bed of tomatoes. A wide brimmed hat shielded her face from the bright summer sun that shone through the windows of the greenhouse. Silvery hair flowed down her back from beneath it. Her lightly colored sundress had been smeared with soil, though she seemed to pay it no mind. Thick, tan colored gloves that seemed a bit too big covered her hands. One of which held a small rake in its grip. She wore a calm, loving expression on her face as she tended to her plants.

She's so pretty… Suletta thought.

"Uhm, excuse me?" she stuttered. "Are you the person who I should talk to?"

The woman stopped moving to look up at Suletta. She smiled slightly, causing her gray colored eyes to crinkle at the corners.

“Yes, I am.” She stood up, pulled off one of her gloves, then extended a hand towards Suletta. “Miorine Rembran. I’m the owner of this greenhouse. How could I help?”

“Oh!” Suletta accepted the handshake with a smile of her own. Even though Miorine’s hands seemed delicate, she could feel several callouses in her grip. “I’m Suletta. I was interested in growing some vegetables in my backyard.”

“Have you ever grown anything before?”

Suletta shook her head. Miorine clicked her tongue then motioned towards the tomatoes she had been taking care of.

“If that’s the case, tomatoes are actually a decent starting plant. Since we’re at the beginning of the summer, they’ll grow wonderfully.”

Suletta pressed her hands against her knees to bend down and look the plant over. Very small, obviously unripe tomatoes grew on their vines that were wrapped around a sturdy piece of wood. A hum buzzed in her chest.

“If you think so, then I trust you.” Her smile widened when she looked back at Miorine. “May I get one of these, then?”

Miorine nodded then knelt back down. It was then that Suletta noticed a small toolbox practically bursting with gardening tools were at her feet. A moment of noisy rummaging later, and Miorine held a trowel in her hand. With meticulous precision, she carefully chose a good looking tomato plant and dug it up. She carefully held the bundle of roots in her hands as she plucked an unused pot from a stack nearby. Once she placed it inside, she offered it to Suletta.

“Since you’re starting out, I’m assuming you don’t have any tools or soil?” Miorine asked.

Suletta shook her head again. A laugh bubbled up from Miorine’s chest.

“I thought so. Then come on. I’ll help you.”

Suletta’s head spun at all the new information being shown to her. But as she followed behind Miorine, she thought it might not be so bad.

-----

Suletta stood up with a grunt. Sweat made her hair stick uncomfortably to the back of her neck, but she felt satisfied nonetheless as she looked down at her newly planted tomatoes. It looked a little sad, being the only thing she had for now, but she couldn’t deny how proud of herself she was.

“And it was all thanks to miss Miorine helping me,” she said to herself.

All day she couldn’t seem to get the gardener out of her head, even while she was hard at work. She brought a gloved hand to her face to brush the hair and sweat from her eyes.

“I wanna see her again and tell her how I did…”

-----

The next day, Suletta hopped back onto her bike and went back to the greenhouse. Now that she knew which building had the vegetables, she headed straight for it. Again, she looked up and down the various rows of plant-life, though this time looking for Miorine.

Her shoulders dropped when she couldn’t find her. A disappointed frown pulled on her lips.

“Ah! Miss… Suletta, was it?”

Suletta spun around to see Miorine in the doorway. She carried a small palette of barely sprouted plants in her hands. She wore another, different colored sundress from yesterday, and the same wide brimmed hat. Her strangely graceful movements had Suletta staring when she approached.

“Miss Suletta?”

“Ah! I’m here!” Suletta’s posture stiffened once she realized she had been staring. “I’m sorry! I zoned out for a minute there!”

“It’s probably the heat. It gets rather hot in the greenhouses,” Miorine sighed, obviously knowing from experience. “But what brings you back here? Did the tomato plants not work out?”

“No. I mean, yes, they did!” Suletta stammered, nearly biting her tongue. “They’re fine! I wanted to tell you that I planted them.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m glad to hear you had no issues.”

Suletta responded with a hum and a nod.

“Actually, would you mind helping me choose another plant?” She fidgeted slightly with her hands. “It looks kind of lonely with only one. That’s not really a garden, is it?”

Miorine gave her a bright smile that strangely took her breath away.

“I’d be glad to.”

-----

“I think I have a problem…”

Suletta leaned against her porch’s railing with a sigh. She looked out at her transformed backyard. Vegetables and herbs lined her fences. Everything from hot peppers, to rosemary, to her precious tomatoes stood happy and healthy. Only a bit more than a week had passed since she started making the garden, and it already looked like she had it for months. She ran a hand through her hair.

“And it’s all because of Miorine,” she mumbled. “I can’t get her out of my head.”

Suletta clapped her hands against her cheeks to try and clear her thoughts, but they kept going back to Miorine. Back to her hardworking hands. Her flowing sundresses. Her caring smile. Over and over again, like she haunted Suletta’s every waking hour.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Suletta soon gasped from a sudden realization.

“I think I love her…”

-----

Suletta put her bike in her usual spot by the greenhouse’s entrance. It had become like clockwork. Every day she would show up in the afternoon, find Miorine, and ask about another new plant.

Though she had another question on her mind this time.

One by one, she checked each greenhouse. Part of it was to make sure Miorine didn’t happen to be in one of the other’s for a change, but it was mostly so she could delay the inevitable. Unsurprisingly, she found her amongst the vegetables, like she always seemed to be around this time.

Suletta gulped. The noticeable increase in heat inside stopped bothering her after her third or fourth visit there, but it felt stifling that time. Her mouth went dry as she approached Miorine.

Miorine’s eyes seemed focused and a bit distant, like she was lost in thought. It was a stark difference to her usual content look when she worked.

"You've come here every day now, Suletta." Miorine suddenly spoke up, causing Suletta to let out a surprised squeak. She stabbed her trowel into the dirt. She stood up with a grunt and planted her hands on her hips, not bothering to remove her usual thick gloves. "There must be a reason other than the plants. You've bought so many!"

Suletta fidgeted and bit the corner of her lip. She'd been caught red-handed and now she felt stuck. Her eyes darted around to look at anything but at Miorine’s face.

"I just wanted to start my own garden," Suletta stuttered. She figured it wasn't a complete lie, so she thought she could get away with it. "And the stuff you've grown is so impressive that I wanted it to be like yours."

"While I'm flattered you think like that," Miorine stepped up to Suletta and stood on her toes to get in her face. Despite the height difference, her intimidating aura made Suletta shrink into herself. "I'm also not stupid. What's going on?"

“I-” Suletta’s heart pounded hard against her ribs. Her palms felt clammy, so she reflexively wiped them against her shorts. Nerves started to make her stomach churn. It made her want to throw up, but she shoved the feeling down. “I think I love you, Miorine! Would you go out with me?”

Suletta’s face lit up bright red once she registered what she blurted out. She tightly gripped the bottom of her tank top and bit her lip to keep herself grounded. She waited in silence for Miorine’s answer.

Miorine’s eyes went wide. The surprise on her face was obvious. Slowly, a blush of her own spread across her fair skin all the way to her ears. She soon stared down at her feet while biting her lip.

“I thought you’d never ask…” she muttered.

“What?” Suletta couldn’t believe what she heard. “So you mean-?”

Miorine nodded then finally tore her eyes away from the floor to meet Suletta’s gaze.

Something behind that familiar shade of gray felt different. It felt warm and inviting. It was then that Suletta realized what Miorine said.

A large grin spread across Suletta’s face when she threw her strong arms around Miorine. Without thinking, she lifted Miorine off her feet and spun her around in her hold. Her musical laugh spilled directly into Suletta’s ear. The sound caused her feelings to swell. Suletta’s grin widened to the point her cheeks hurt.

What started with visiting a greenhouse on a whim bloomed into a romance she didn’t expect; and she was quite fine with that.

[geraldtarrant]

Winter Solstice [1,208 words]

Fandom: Coldfire Trilogy - C. S. Friedman Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Almea Tarrant/Gerald Tarrant Additional Tags: Winter Solstice, Bittersweet, Yuletide, Yuletide Treat

Written for @theobscurepotato as a Yuletide 2022 treat. Full fic below, also on Ao3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/43638243

The white doors of Merentha Castle’s great room had been left ajar.

Gerald Tarrant placed a hand on the wood, trembling. Light spilled out the narrow opening alongside children’s voices, silver bright, its pull as strong as a waterfall. He had no place here, nor any right to take comfort in it. Yet with a deep sigh he pushed the carved panels open, and in he walked.

The domed skylight rose above him, and the slanted evening light shimmered down over splendid garlands decked in tinsel and glass. He braced himself for the sight ahead as he approached, knowing already what he’d find: the great Winter Solstice tree—narrow at its base as Ernan tradition dictated, to accommodate presents; its middle lush with leaves and ornaments that shone gold in the fireplace’s warm glow. But he knew that no amount of preparation could shield his soul against that breathtaking moment when he first saw her; not this year, or in any of the years he’d known her.

She was stars and sunshine in her winter holiday gown. Its flowing silk hem hid her feet so that, having climbed up onto a ladder to place the sparkling tip atop the tree, she appeared suspended on air, ethereal like a spirit from the heavens. 

“It’s going to fall on Eric!” 

Tory, the diminutive dark-haired source of the dire warning, was gesturing wildly while jumping up and down to punctuate his words. It was incredible that someone so small could produce that volume of sound, Gerald Tarrant mused, and he felt his face melt helplessly into a smile.

“It is fine where it is,” Eric announced calmly, then lifted his chin proudly, his silver gaze far too perceptive for one so young. “What do you think, Dad?”

He opened his mouth to speak, and then she turned and saw him, and all his thoughts quieted as if sunk under the waters of the deepest sea. “Gerald,” she whispered, beaming, and God of Earth, she was so beautiful he thought his heart would shatter.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered, blinking to keep his sight from blurring. 

All of a sudden she put a hand on her rounded belly, gasping, and he stepped forward in unthinking worry. “I wish you’d let me help, in your condition,” he said, “if you must insist on giving the servants this night off.” Because of course she had done so, as she always did, so that they could spend this time with their own families. 

“I’ve been through this twice before, Gerald, if you have forgotten,” she chided, though her eyes were bright with her smile. “Have some faith.”

“At least choose a more sensible gown next time.” He placed a hand on the ladder to steady it, eyeing the long tangled cloth around her feet with irrational, instinctive concern.

“You love this gown.”

“Not if it puts you at risk, my love.” That was Eric, in a haughty voice that was a perfect imitation of his father’s, apart from its childlike pitch. Almea’s laughter rang out like chiming bells, followed by Toby’s far less dignified but enthusiastic screams.

“Do more ‘Serious Dad,’ Eric!” Toby demanded—he had always been direct rather than diplomatic—and Gerald Tarrant had to give up any pretense at keeping a straight face as his eldest son pulled himself up to his full six-year-old height and solemnly intoned: “Ignorance is, and has always been, the source of humanity’s greatest fears. Therefore I will now take it upon myself to fight this evil—by finding out what’s in this present!” he finished abruptly, then ducked under the tree with surprising speed, snatched up a wrapped box, and sprinted away with it.

“Wait!” Toby yelled, already running after his brother. “I want to see!” 

And just like that, he was alone with her. He gazed up into her face, marveling at the luxury, drinking his fill of the sight in the way a rescued man marooned at sea gulped his first drink of water. He didn’t quite mean to offer his embrace, but somehow he must have stretched out his arms for her, and she put her own arms sweetly around his neck and let him help her down. She wore only her thin gown and chemise, and her delicate form molded itself softly against his chest, stirring desires he’d thought forgotten.

Gently he put his arms on her shoulders, and made himself take a step back, though even the slight distance felt like a world apart.

“Stay with me,” she said, as he pushed back a strand of silky red hair behind her ear. “Spend the holiday with us. Like you used to, back in the good days.”

“In the good days,” he echoed, long fingers sweeping against her face absently, so very softly. “If only.”

“Why won’t you stay?” Her pleading voice was trembling, though she tried to hide it.

“Because,” he whispered through the tears in his throat, “I know how our story goes, Almea. And it is not a happy one.”

She frowned, puzzled, but when she looked up at him there was hope in her eyes, so much hope. “And so?” she asked him. “Give it a different ending. Isn’t that what you’ve been doing all your life? Rewriting our history, against all odds to the contrary.” He shook his head helplessly. God, don’t let me cry, he mouthed silently, and the prayer tasted strange and bitter on his tongue. “Gerald,” his wife said gently; infinitely loving, all too trusting as always. “I know you can do it. I’ve always known it. You can do anything you set your mind to.”

“Not this one thing,” he whispered, touching his forehead against hers, and he felt a single tear escape from his eyes. He let it run its staining trail down to his lips, for her, heedless of who might see. “I wish I could.”

He kissed her, then. Her lips were pure as cool snow, a single moment’s peace in a world of chaos and pain, and that was what gave him the strength, just barely, to do what he knew he must. 

Keeping the deadly blade out of her sight, he drew his sword with slow care. Then, swiftly and ruthlessly, he let the blazing key to a Banishing flare up in his mind's eye, and watched as the great hall vanished like windswept ashes, along with its light, and its tree, and at the very last Almea, who wasn’t really waiting for him, and wouldn’t ever again.

The sea was dark, with no Earth Fae in sight, and the roar of the waves was drowned out by the inhuman screeching of the constructs that surrounded the Desert Queen like so many hungry leeches. The only illumination came from the icy blue of his own Working, but its glow was enough to keep him anchored as he stared ahead impassively, cold walls in place as his soul thrashed within. 

He could feel Vryce’s inquisitive gaze upon him. Could almost read, through their link, how eager he would have been for Tarrant to trust him with some sort of soul-stripping disclosure. 

As if the priest would understand, or spare him a single drop of unearned compassion. 

As if anyone would. 

[finalgirlkateausten]

“can we pretend this never happened?” + Maggie and Mickey?

ehehe this is a gooood one. I'm setting this in s1, right at the end of Chaos Theory. Like yes this is already in my top 3 McHaller scenes but also. I can make it even more insane

Mickey takes Maggie into his arms without thinking, the look on his face spurring action from his heart rather than his mind. "You were trying to do the right thing," he assures her, rubbing her back. "Getting the witness to talk is your job."

"It's my fault he's dead," she says, her voice choked and her face buried in his shoulder.

Mickey shakes his head. "You didn't pull the trigger."

"He had a daughter, Mickey. Fuck, Hayley was... she saw the whole thing. I couldn't get her out of there while everything was happening..."

"She's okay, Mags," he reminds her. "She's safe. I know you didn't want her there, but she's thirteen, it's not our fault she does what she wants."

Maggie looks up at him, her brow furrowing with doubt. "I can't get him out of my head, I don't even want to know how Hayley's doing."

"She's doing alright," Mickey insists, cupping Maggie's face in his hands and tucking her hair away from her face. "It's not your fault," he repeats. He wants to pull her closer, but they're already flush against each other. Mickey risks leaning in, his eyes on Maggie's the whole time.

Her eyes, on the other hand, flick down to his lips as he ducks his head. He skirts his fingers along her jaw, tilting her chin up when he finally leans down to kiss her.

It lasts longer than he could've expected, and to his surprise, Maggie is holding almost as tightly to him as he is to her. When they do have to breathe, they end up just staring at each other, and Maggie bites her lip, the anxiety returning to her face.

"I'm sorry--"

"No, don't," he protests, cutting her off. He's not sure if he should apologize or just tell her they don't need to be sorry at all, but they're interrupted before he can decide.

"Woah, okay," Hayley says. Maggie whips toward her so fast that Mickey actually stumbles when she leaves his arms. "What's happening?"

"Nothing's happening," Maggie answers quickly. "You didn't need to call your dad, honey, it's not your job to worry about me."

"Yeah, that's why she called me," Mickey interrupts, brushing his hand against the small of Maggie's back in the hopes of calming her down. "It's my job. What about you, Hayley, do you want a hot drink or something? I know it's been a long day."

Hayley shrugs. "I dunno. I already have a therapist. It didn't really feel, like, real? Could've just been a 9-1-1 episode."

Mickey looks between her and Maggie, who looks flushed and a little ill. He's not sure either of them are as okay as they're professing to be.

"I'm making hot chocolate," he announces decisively. He ushers Hayley into the kitchen, relieved to see her smile, but her mother doesn't follow. "Mags?" He calls, while he's filling the kettle. "You coming?"

Maggie hovers in the doorway. "I already have a drink," she points out, lifting her half-full wine glass.

If he had to guess, he would be doubtful that's her first glass-- the bottle had been sitting on the coffee table, not to mention he'd tasted the wine when he'd kissed her. "Come on," he says, shaking his head. "Nothing wrong with a nice warm drink on a bad day, is there?"

She tosses back the last of the wine and then makes her way into the kitchen. "No, there isn't."

Mickey takes her hand in his as she tries to slip past him. "Let me take care of you," he murmurs, nearly whispering in her ear. She turns to look at him with clear resistance in her eyes. "Okay?"

Maggie pulls her hand away, but nods, her eyes toward the floor. "Okay."

Later, when Hayley has rebounded enough to no longer want the company of her parents, Mickey begins trying to clean up, gathering mugs and spoons off the table.

"You don't have to do that," Maggie sighs.

Mickey shrugs. "It's fine. I was just going to pop them in the dishwasher."

"Really, Mick," Maggie insists, standing and taking a mug from him. "I think you should go."

He frowns. "I was thinking I should hang around for a bit."

She shakes her head. "I don't want to talk tonight, about any of this... can we pretend this never happened?"

It's a slap to the face, but Mickey isn't willing to risk upsetting Maggie even more tonight. "If that's what you want."

Maybe he'll get an apology a week from now with the excuse of her being out of her mind tonight. It's happened before.

"I need some time to myself," Maggie says, nodding slowly.

Mickey frowns. "Are you sure you want to be alone?"

"No," Maggie says quietly, "but not being alone is a bad idea, too. And at least I know right now that when I wake up tomorrow this will all be a little further behind me." She gives him a pointed look.

He gets it. She wants him behind her too, and it doesn't matter that he doesn't want the same. It's not a good idea, like she'd said.

"You need anything," he sighs, "you call me."

Maggie gives him a wry smile. "I don't know about that."

"Goodnight, Mags." He leans in and kisses her cheek as he hands her the last mug.

She lays a hand firmly against his shoulder but doesn't quite push him away. "Go say goodnight to Hayley before I kick you out of the house."

"Seriously," he says, backing out of the kitchen, "call me."

"Goodnight, Mickey."

He sighs, wishing they were still standing in the living room holding onto each other. "Goodnight."