payrollassoc

[m4ur]

most of my pottery came out fucked bc the glazes did something weird. I want to go lie in a ditch

[eddiernunson]

Pathetic | Virgin!Eddie Munson x f!Reader | 18+

Summary: Eddie surprisingly asks you out, despite being in separate social circles. When he doesn't make a move on any dates, you ask and discover the fun of making him whimper

Warnings: sub!Eddie, (slight) dom!reader, edging, multiple orgasms (m), no protection, virgin!eddie, sloppy ending, and just making Eddie whine

Barely edited.

Inspired by a conversation with @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you when we talked about this exact thing.

Word Count: 2.3k

To say it surprised you when Eddie Munson asked you out would be an understatement. You found him decent looking enough, eyes following his slim hips or limber fingers when you had the chance. Since you’re in completely different social circles, tables on the opposite ends of the cafeteria, you never interact.

However, one Friday afternoon he approached you, a shy smile on his face as he asks you to a Drive In, you accepted sincerely.

When you’re in his passenger seat, you find yourself surprised by how his hands don’t even attempt to make their way under your tiny skirt, a feat you’ve faced from every other date you’ve had since reaching high school. It was stupidly refreshing. In fact, so refreshing, by the end of the date as he continues licking the butter of the popcorn your thighs end up tensing up, now wishing he had fingered you in the fucking Drive In.

When he dropped you off at home, he gives a gentle kiss on your cheek, promising to call you the next day. Your fingernails leave moon imprints on the palm on your hand, officially fucking sexually frustrated because of Eddie fucking Munson.

He takes you on a few more dates as the time goes on, still never making a move. Not the restaurant, bowling alley, or the arcade. You got a long well with him, his humour and yours mixing well as you get to know him, but if you didn’t get his cock down your throat soon, you were gonna lose it.

Now you sit on his couch, absentmindedly watching reruns of Bewitched as he practices on his guitar. His nimble and fast fingers distract you, zoning in on them as you watch them, not even noticing that the reruns have ended and the tv is now playing The Mary Tyler Moore Show.

You clear your throat, getting his attention. He looks up, his expression taken aback as his eyes peer up at you with his mouth half open. “Hmm?” He asks, licking his fingers for a slight relief.

God, he’s a tease. “Please just kiss me already.”

His eyes noticeably widen, his mouth partially opening. “Huh?”

You shuffle up to him in the corner of the couch and lift his guitar from him, gently placing it on the coffee table. “Kiss me.”

His mouth shifts into a boyish smile, licking his lips as he glances to your lips, just a little bit. You sit right next to him. You sit on your own leg, grabbing at his face as you finally, finally place your lips on his luscious pink ones. It’s gentle, far gentler than you’re craving from him, been craving. Your mouth opens slightly, leading the way as you swallow a muffled whine from him. Your tongue collides with his, hungrily starting to crawl closer to him. “C-can we please go to your room?” You ask, knowing the couch won’t be enough.

His eyes take a minute to open, glazing over as they switch between yours, his cheeks flushed. In hindsight, you’re not sure how you didn’t see initial signs.

Eddie holds your hand as he leads you to his room at the end of the hall, biting his lips nervously. You lie on his bed, tugging him by the jean vest on top of you, hungrily kissing him. Throughout the kissing, there’s numerous muffled moans you swallow, your hands holding his back as his stay stationed on your hips, fingers unsteady and tense.

“Um…I-I need to tell you something.” Eddie mumbles, his voice low and husky.

“Hmm?” You ask, peering into his now darkened brown eyes.

He looks down between the two of you, an audible gulp leaving his throat. “I’m…I’m a virgin.”

Your eyebrows raise by reflex, suddenly several things making sense. “And…that’s why you haven’t made a move?” You ask, assessing his nervousness.

He nods, entirely vulnerable and the complete opposite of the front he puts up at school.

“That’s okay,” you nod, attempting to calm him down with your soft tone. “We just have a lot of time to make up for.” You don’t give him a chance to register this comment, leaning up for another desperate kiss. “Will you let me suck your cock?” You ask, noting the slight pressure now at your thigh.

It’s visible as he short circuits, his eyes darting as he takes it in. “A-are you sure?”

You swing your weight so you’re now on top, giggling as he gives you this look of pure astonishment. “Mmhmm!”

You quickly crawl down to face the bulge in his pants, drooling gathering in your mouth at the sheer size of him. Your hand reaches out to palm him, his startled and guttural moan satisfying you the shit out of you. Oh, you’re going to have a lot of fun. Your hands move to undo the button on his black jeans with ease, eagerly pulling down his pants has his cock pops out.

“Holy shit, you’re huge.” You mumble, taking in his size. “Ed. Look at me.” You wait patiently as his eyes open to face yours, placing your tongue tentatively on the pink weepy head, a whine escaping his throat as it makes contact. Your hand wraps around the base, licking tentatively at his head, feeling as his cock twitches in your hand. “Cock is so fucking needy, huh?” You ask, just teasing him.

Eddie nods enthusiastically, mouth open and eyes half closed. God, he looked desperate in the best of ways.

Slowly, you wrap your lips around the head, sucking tentatively as you start to stroke the length of him, veins pulsing. His stomach is already starting to tense, a sign that he was close. “You close, baby?” You ask, stroking his cock slowly.

“Uh huh.” Eddie whines, his legs starting to move under you restlessly.

You hum, starting to take a much larger amount into your mouth, bobbing your head quickly. Within seconds Eddie’s tip is shooting cum down your throat, the delicious salty taste making you hum around him.

“Fuck!” Eddie swears, left leg tensing under you. “Fuck, that was fast, I’m so sorry.”

“Aww, it’s okay.” You tell him, still stroking him sleepily. “If your pretty cock hasn’t been touched before, I understand. Think you can cum again?”

Eddie lets out a laugh in disbelief. “Um…”

“Wanna see if I can make you cum again...” You take his length further into the heat of your mouth than before, bobbing your head up and sucking with more enthusiasm.

Under you, he whines more desperately, his torso hiking up in intervals, hands intertwined in his hair as everything you give him sends him dumb.

As your hand moves under to roll his heavy balls, Eddie gasps loudly as he cums again within minutes, sucking him until every drop is shot into your throat again. “Ah, shit.” You lazily stroke him, eyes half open as you watch him get his bearings again. “Fuck, cock hurts, baby.”

“Oh, does it?” You ask, your tone of voice slightly condescending. “I think I’m gonna blow you until you cum two or three more times and then I’m gonna ride the shit out of you.” Your voice is casual as you explain it to him, but your pussy throbs at the prospect of making him whine pathetically even more.

His tip was darkening in shades of red from the sensitivity, gasping as you kiss at the tip. “Ed. Say a random word.”

“Huh?”

“Top of your head.”

Eddie takes advantage of the break you’re giving him, racking his thoughtless brain for a word without question. “Uh, duck.”

“Okay. If you really can’t handle another orgasm, you say that word as a last resort and I will stop, okay?” Eddie nods, his eyes squeezed shut. “Hey, look at me.” Eddie lifts his head up to you, eyes heavy as he nods again. “Okay, now I wanna hear some more of those pathetic little whines of yours.”

His cock twitches in your hand at that, a nonverbal cue that he was enjoying the shit out of this. You lick a long stripe up his cock, the gasp out of your mouth as you do is nearly feral as you do. As your thumb presses on his slit as you go back down to the base, starting to mouth at the skin of his balls. His whole-body tenses up, gasping as you suck at the flesh, soaking him with your spit. You move down, hand still stroking him as you attack the perinium, licking and sucking gently. As your head moves back up to the tip, he’s continuing to twitch. You wrap your lips around the head alone, flicking your tongue it up and down against it, his whine pure music to your ears.

This does it for the third time, the salty taste getting better and better.

Eddie is restless under you, mouth moving like he wants to say words but nothing coming out. “Look at you, so fucking pathetic. I haven’t even choked on your big cock, yet.”

“Pl-please” He chokes out, his voice breathy as he begs for you.

“Please, what, hmm?” You ask scattering wet kisses along the pulsing veins in his cock.

“P-please choke on it?” He asks, licking his lips desperately.

“Oh, baby is so desperate for it, hmm?” He nods shakily, his breathing short and jagged.

You immediately take him into the back of your throat, gagging on his cock with the most sinful sounds, Eddie’s hips pushing up to put more in your mouth, whining as he does. Your hand reaches out for his, placing it on the crown of your head. His hand pushes it on you, forcing his cock down your throat and starting to fuck it. Your eyes burn, a tear dressed in mascara falling slowly down your cheek and onto his thigh. As he finally fucks one last time in your mouth, shooting down your throat, he gasps, starting to feel much more sensitive as he cums a fourth time.

Finally, you as you lift your head he sees the trail of mascara down your cheeks, seeing the concern flash in his eyes. “You, you okay?”

You giggle, wiping the salt away from your flushed cheek. “Oh, that’s just part of the job.” You kiss his twitching tip, tongue lapping at it softly. “Trust me, that’s a good blow job when I’m crying.” His dick twitches, turned on by it. You ignore it, knowing you have plenty of time for him to fuck your throat on your knees. You had one last goal, wanting his hips to twitch.

“Gonna make you cum one more time, baby.” You say, licking thoroughly up and down the length. It’s a bit tamer this time, just jerking him off and playing with the sensitive tip as you maintain the eye contact. As he got close, his hips start to lift at their own accord, the moans on a whole new level. “Look at your hips twitching, baby. Wanna cum all over my face?”

“Please” He begs.

An impulsive thought takes over, stopping the action right as his tummy starts tense up.

Eddie’s eyebrows meet in the middle as he lets out a echo of disappointment. “Baby.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.” You apologize, stroking him quickly again. “Wanted to see that pathetic little face one more time.” You focus on him, getting him over the edge one last time as his hips twitch uncontrollably from the edge, gasping in little moans. As his sticky cum shoots, much less than the first time you open your mouth, wanting to accept his cum with your mouth open and smiling as the cum dresses your face.

You hum, grabbing the edge of your shirt to wipe it off, not caring much for this graphic tee, anyway. As you crawl up to him, you grin madly, taking in the way he’s eyes are glossed over. “You good?”

He nods lazily, breathing heavily. “What the fuck was that?”

You shrug, leaning in for a sweet kiss. “You need some water?”

“No, I want you to ride me.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m fucking sure. Ride me, please.”

“Okay!”

After taking off your panties and skirt, you lift your leg to straddle him, making eye contact as you move his cock to your entrance. “You gonna wear your shirt?”

“You’re still wearing your shirt.” You point out, and Eddie laughs, his palm hitting his face sheepishly.

“Right. Whatever.”

Finally, you sink down on his cock, your pussy begging you for attention as you sucked him off. “Eddie.” You gasp out, his length filling you up deliciously. “Oh my god.”

“Now whos’ pathetic?” He asks, his voice quite cocky for someone who just came five times in what…ten minutes?

“Your cock is fucking good, Ed. Can you fucking blame me?” You tell him, deciding to ignore his unearned cockiness…for now.

“Fuck, this pussy is so tight.” Your hips start to roll, the pleasure all encompassing as he reaches the deepest depths of you.  “Roll those hips, oh my god.”

Okay. You have to point it out. “You’re surprisingly cocky for someone that just came so many times.”

“Wait until I fucking eat you out, babe.”

Your eyes roll in the back of your head, starting to bounce on him as you chase the orgasm that you’ve been denying yourself, listening to Eddie moan and babble even more.

“Gonna cum, Ed.” You warn him, sneaking up on you with how wet and horny you were.

“Me too.” He hums, a stupid silly smile on his face.

When you cum together, sweaty and sunny, you rest on his chest, petting his chest gently as you bask in the afterglow.

Effectively, you have solved your problem as Eddie sneaks his hand under your skirt the next time you’re sitting at the drive in.

-

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

[vngelicc]

⊹₊ ⋆ “he love how i ride it, hop on that dick i make him get excited,”

TAGS — dilf!jk, riding, creampie, dirty talk, slight fingering (brief lol), reader’s a soft good girl, praise kink(?), brief masturbation (male), jk is obsessed with his bby, riding it good wooo, reader’s like a shy good girl uwu, nasty flip-flopping sex, daddy kink to the MAX, she’s subby but kinda bratty, jk has a high sex drive LMAO, mentions of future pregnancy at the end

WORD COUNT — 1.9 k

Jungkook’s insatiable when it comes to you–even more now that you two started sleeping with each other. You didn’t mind at first until you realized it was a bit harder to keep up with him and his high sex drive. He fucked like a man on death row, like he was never going to see you again or something. You were left fucked out but positively bruised.

How Hani hasn’t walked in on you two yet is still a mystery to you with the amount of times you two go at it. If you were down in the kitchen, Jungkook had you on the counter spread out within seconds of walking in. Watching a movie with Jungkook? That won’t last long, you’re lucky if you even get to see the beginning of it. It gets worse when Hani says she’s going out for the day (he will NOT let you out of his sight at all).

Needless to say you weren’t complaining about the situation, you were just as needy as Jungkook was.

“Hey baby.” Jungkook pops his head into your room with a tiny smile, “What you up to?”

You stopped typing on your laptop and spun around in your chair to greet him with a soft hum, “Finishing up this essay, ‘s due by the end of the week.” You mumble and look down to see him holding something from behind the door, “What you got there?”

“A snack for my hard-working girl.” He grins and steps in, holding up the piping hot bowl of ramen that instantly has your mouth watering. “Figured you could use something since you’ve been cooped up in here for days now baby.” He makes his way over and sets the food on the side table.

“Thank you.” You shyly reply and take his hands in yours, “You’re the best..” Jungkook squeezes your hands gently, “How was your day? I didn’t see you when I came home from class.” You run your thumb over his knuckles tenderly.

“Boring without you baby. Had you on my mind the entire time.” He grins mischievously, and you already know where this is heading. “Couldn’t stop thinking ‘bout your pretty little lips and sweet little noises.” He slips one of his hands up to cup your cheek, thumb stroking over your soft pillowy lips.

Your eyes flutter coyly and you lean into his touch, “..missed you too.” You mumble out and let your eyes drop down to his chest where the top two buttons sit unbuttoned, “Missed you lots.” You breathily whisper out.

Jungkook must notice how glazed over your eyes look because he smiles at you deviously and chuckles quietly, “Yeah baby? You were thinkin’ bout daddy too?” He says as he tugs your chair and makes it roll over in front of him, “Tell me what you were thinking about sweetheart.”

“You. Wanted to..wanted you daddy,” you softly mewl, “didn’t like how we couldn’t finish this morning, you left me hanging daddy.” You press your thighs together, rubbing them slowly as a soft pout forms on your lips.

Jungkook licks his lips hungrily, “Baby’s upset she didn’t get to cum in the morning? Didn’t I make you cum two times before that baby? What a greedy girl I got, needs more than my fingers in her slutty little pussy.” He smacks your thighs apart, “Open up for me, don’t be a brat.”

You whine quietly and let your thighs fall open for him, shivering when he slides his hand up, “Daddy…it-it isn’t fair! Y-You said that you will always make me cum however many times I want.” You yelp when he smacks your inner thigh.

“Don’t get mouthy with me baby, where did my sweet girl go? You’ll take what I give you won’t you baby?” He says as his eyes narrow, “Unless you’re being a bad girl?”

Your heart beats faster and you shake your head vehemently, “I’m not a bad girl daddy, ‘m a good girl.”

“Then act like it.” Jungkook pulls back and stands, “Since my baby’s so desperate for my cock why don’t you prep yourself, get you nice and stretched with your fingers. Go on,” he sits on your bed, legs wide apart as he man spreads and leans back.

A small whimper threatens to escape your throat as you watch him, you can feel your mouth salivating as drool threatens to slip past your lips. “Go on.” He nods, “Don’t keep me waiting.” With that you reach down to slip your cotton shorts down your thighs, your panties come down with them but you let them dangle around one ankle as you bring your knees up on the chair, spreading your legs wide as your pussy’s out for his pleasure.

“There you go baby,” Jungkook darkly mutters as he unbuckles his own slacks, “touch yourself for me.” He licks his lips.

A shudder runs through your body, goosebumps erupting all over your body as you shyly bring your hand down to part your slicked up pussy lips. He groans low when you show off your puckered up hole shiny with slick, he’s got his own cock out of his boxers, hand steadily stroking himself. “Look at you,” he sighs, “so messy.”

You let your fingers dip low at your hole, you tease yourself a tiny bit by slipping the tip of your finger in before you slip it back out and circle them around your clit. You softly moan his name and repeat your actions from before a few more times until your pussy is slicked up and dripping. “Go on baby, slip ‘em inside and get yourself ready for my cock.” He purrs.

“Daddy.” You whine out and curl your fingers as you stuff your pussy full with your ring and middle finger. “Don’t wanna stretch myself out, wanna have you inside already.” You let your head loll back as you speed your fingers up with a quiet whine.

Slicked up noises filled the space between you, slick dribbles down between your ass cheeks and on to the desk chair. Your fingers are soaked and your poor clit throbs from lack of attention. This wouldn’t be happening if Jungkook wasn’t making you tease yourself. “Daddy please,” you whimper, “wanna ride you.”

“Yeah baby? Gonna do all the work and let daddy lay there while you use my cock to get off?” Jungkook groans as he speeds up his movements, “Fuck, get over here baby. Sit on my cock,” he slides the rest of his pants right off, “c’mon.” He coos.

You eagerly let your fingers slip out and you make your way over to him, happily climbing over as you crawl up the bed and over his lap. “Please daddy,” you beg softly and settle on to his lap nicely.

“Go on, you know what to do baby.” Jungkook smacks one of your ass cheeks, “Show me you’re my good girl.” He grins.

You grip the base of his cock with one hand and lift your hips up to position your pussy over the head of his cock, “So fucking wet,” he mumbles and watches with hooded eyes, “like that baby, there you go.” He bites his lip.

Your lips part in a silent moan as you slowly inch yourself downwards on his cock, the stretch is a bit painful but not by much. When you sit fully on his lap you’re eager to have your way with him right off the bat. You set your hands on his chest for balance and begin grinding your hips in slow sensual motions.

“Shit.” Jungkook grunts as his head falls back on the pillow, “ ‘s good, pussy so warm and wet ‘round my cock. Got you drippin’ all over me.” He rolls his hips upward as if he wants to slip in deeper somehow.

The shift has you whining and grinding down on him harder, his cock just presses up against all your sweet spots just right. You can feel stars bursting behind your eyelids as you lean your head back.

“Daddy,” you whimper out and grind faster, “please—feels so good, can feel it here,” you set a hand over your lower abdomen, “so deep.” Your words come out slurred.

Jungkook cusses under his breath when you hears you talk like that, “Oh fuck baby,” he whispers, “look at you, desperate little thing you are. You like the way my cock fills you baby? Fills you up just right don’t it?” He runs his hands over your soft cheeks before he smacks both hard and jiggles them in his hands.

You nod your head rapidly, muffling your own whimpers as you begin bouncing in his lap. His cock strikes your g-spot with every bounce, your thighs shake and loud smacks fill the entire room. The sounds you two make are fucking filthy—wet, messy, hot—the bed frame begins rocking into the wall.

“Daddy please,” you bring his hands up to wrap around your waist, “ ‘m getting tired, can’t do it anymore.” You whimper out as your bouncing comes to a stop. You lay down on top of him, idly grinding back and forth.

“You want daddy to fuck you sweetheart? Need me to take over and fuck you so good?” Jungkook moans as he turns his face to hide in your neck, peppering kisses all over.

“Please.” You whisper back and turn to slot your lips against his in a sloppy little kiss.

Jungkook sighs into the kiss and readjusts his grip on your waist before he begins fucking up into your battered pussy. Loud fopping noises resonate as he fucks you like a animal. You bury your hands in his hair and grip it tightly as he plows you from below.

“Baby,” he moans out, “feels so fucking good, gripping me so tight.” He whispers in your ear over the loud squelching noises your pussy makes when his cock slams into you over and over again.

“Mm..! T-There, right there,” you beg softly and meet him thrust for thrust, “gonna cum daddy.” You reach behind to move one of his hands, “Want you to touch me here daddy.” You tug it towards your aching clit.

Jungkook growls low and his thumb immediately finds your clit, rubbing the tender bud side to side rapidly. His hips smack into your ass over and over as he sends you hurtling towards your much awaited orgasm.

“J-Jungkook..!” You cry out and stiffen, your back arches and hips raise as you cum hard all over him and his stupidly perfect cock. “S-So good,” you gasp out.

He grabs your ass tight with one hand as he continues fucking into you until he’s coming too. “Shit baby,” he gasps and rolls his hips slowly, “shit..” He chuckles breathily and lays there blinking slowly, “Made a mess.”

You lay tiredly on him and bury your face in his neck, “Mm..” Your drained, that fucking really took the life out of you, “I didn’t get to eat my ramen.” You mumble out.

“Let’s clean up and take a nap, yeah baby? You worked too hard today on your essay, take some time off.” Jungkook whispers and presses a kiss to your temple. You nod to his words and head over to the bathroom together.

You miss the telltale signs of your watch that sits on your dresser beeping, next to it lies your open pack of birth control, something you completely forget about even after the nap, and then the day after that, and after that…

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan

[liv2post]

Hii!! I'm not sure if you're still taking requests but I have one if you are, one of my favorite chapters in itlt is the baking one, and I was wondering if you could write a separate fluffy baking fic!

Hi gracie! Thanks for the request! I hope you enjoy it :D

Cinnamon Rolls

Summary: After a long first day of the school year, Severus returns to your chambers in need of your presence and excellent baked confections.

Word Count: 1179

it's the little things story here (if anyone wants to read!)

The door to your office closed with a punctuated clang, the grumpy potion master leaning against it and letting out a weary sigh. He had gotten used to the summer months he was afforded that he had forgotten how cumbersome each new batch of first years’ incompetency was. One boy had not been paying attention during the safety demonstration for handling sharp tools properly and had cut his thumb open so deeply that he needed to be sent to the Hospital Wing. He swore each new injury or exploded cauldron was going to give him a new wrinkle or grey hair.

It was only until the sound of soft music and the smell of cinnamon spice hit his senses that he was able to let go of his frustration. They were a sign of your presence. His love.

He trudged silently through your living space toward the kitchen where he was met with a sight that made his heart flutter with equal intensity each time. 

You were flitting about the kitchen, a jumper with the sleeves rolled up to your elbows and lounge shorts on, but the front of your legs was partially covered by the apron you had tied around you. Your hair was clipped up and out of the way, allowing him a view of the chain you wore around your neck, one that held the ring Severus gave you that remained hidden beneath your day clothes. He could also make out a bit of flour caked along your jaw and near your neck, how you always managed to make a mess he’ll never know. It didn’t matter though. He thought you looked adorable.

As you finished stirring the bowl of glaze, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your middle, pulling you back into a firm chest. 

“Hi, Severus,” you smiled, letting go of the wooden spoon and resting your hands on his forearms.

He sighed into you, his face nuzzling into your hair as he inhaled your scent, loving the way your natural fragrance mixed with the sweetness of the confections you baked. 

“You smell so good…” he remarked quietly.

You chuckled. “I sure hope so.” 

He tugged you a little to the side with one arm, the other coming up to grasp your jaw and tilt your head back and up, his lips eagerly connecting with yours. You hummed into the kiss, your lips moving just as enthusiastically against his whenever he was domineering with you. You felt his tongue swipe against your own and on your bottom lip, sampling the remnants of cinnamon rolls and the glaze you had been perfecting for the last five minutes.

“You taste good, too,” he pulled away with a smug smirk. Oh, how he loved the way such words reduced you to a blushing mess, your face blazing with redness as you managed to turn into his hold and bury your face into the crook of his neck, your arms coming to wrap around his back. His arms readjusted similarly, stroking up and down the length of your back as you both breathed each other in, missing each other's presence as the both of you had classes to teach on the farthest sides of the castle. The both of you had gotten so accustomed to waking up next to one another, absorbing each other's constant presence in your summer cottage. But it was autumn now and the both of you had your respective duties in the school. On the flip side, it was also a school term he greatly looked forward to because you’d bake some of his favorite treats which just so happened to be in season.

What felt like many minutes passed before either of you spoke up once more.

“I missed you,” you said, voice partially muffled by his body.

“And I, you.” He pecked the side of your head.

“How was your first class?”

Severus huffed, holding you tighter. “The words necessary to describe the anticipated ineptitude I’ll be dealing with elude me.” He could feel your smile in comiseration against him. “Yours?”

“I have a feeling I’ll know who my ‘problem children’ will be, but otherwise not bad.” You kissed his neck before he released you. “I imagined you would have a rougher day than I would, so I made cinnamon rolls!” you announced, pouring the glaze over the brown, puffy rolls. “And I believe we still have some Earl Grey in the cabinet.”

The longing in his gaze deepened, the need to be close to you making him press against you his hands lightly grasping your waist as he pressed his lips to the back of your neck, just above the chain. “You’re too good to me…” he murmured. His fingers began to undo the tie around your waist as well as the one resting on the base of your neck. “Allow me to make us the tea. Have a rest on the sofa.”

“Severus, I still have to clean up—”

“Have a rest...on the sofa” he repeated more firmly, a mixture of a warning and a plea. You had done something so nice for him and now he wanted to reciprocate. And he knew that you knew this. “Don’t be stubborn, you silly girl,” he kissed you once more, this time on the forehead as he peeled the apron off of you and proceeded to kick you out of your own kitchen.

The low fire blazed away, washing the office in warm yellow-orange and flickering on along the tan pages of your book. It wasn’t even dinner yet, but the dungeons had a way of making it seem like it was always nighttime. Severus’s soft footsteps caught your attention as he entered your field of vision. A snort escaped you.

“Something amusing?” He lifted a brow. 

“It seems the flour on my apron transferred onto your black robes.”

He looked down at himself and scowled. Indeed, the flour from your apron and on your face had imprinted onto his robes and collar. He set the cups of tea down on the coffee table and handed you the small plate holding two of the cinnamon rolls so he could swipe off as much of the flour as he could manage, though some appeared to be stuck.

“You could always just turn your robes white,” you teased.

“Absolutely not,” he gruffed, giving up on the attempt to clean himself in favor of being next to you. Severus settled down on the couch with you. His side pressed against you as he took a cinnamon roll and bit into it, moaning quietly at how good it was, how the sweet glaze mixed wonderfully with the spiced dough. You automatically leaned back against him, resting your head against his shoulder. The simple bliss of being with one another and enjoying the little domesticities of life washed over the both of you, his other hand interlacing with yours and his thumb gently rolling over the skin of your hand, grateful for his love that brought him so much peace. 

His love, who smelled like cinnamon rolls.

[oo-delallymrcrow]

Soup for the Soul

Summary: Gricko has come down with a flu. You help take care of him and Hootsie.

A/N: another request! I'm sorry it's taken awhile to put out but it's finally here! I thought this was so cute and I love Hootsie! I would absolutely die for her I swear! Edit: I forgot to say @amethyst-gemstone requested this because they give me inspiration!! Thank you 😊

Gricko Grimgrin wasn’t one to fall ill. He prided himself on his resilience, his ability to withstand the things that would knock others flat. But this time, something had gotten the better of him. When you’d first heard about it, the idea of Gricko, bedridden and vulnerable, seemed almost impossible.

Everyone seemed to be busy with something and just could not stay to help their friend. Kremy and Gideon off doing God knows what with Twig. Frost and Torbek doing ... .well you didn't really listen when you heard the coughs and sad hoots coming from Gricko’s room. So with everyone else busy with their own things today, you volunteered to stay behind.

You walked up to the room that Gricko had taken over and softly rapt at the door. You just heard a sniffle and a few scratches in response, so you opened it. Hootsie immediately hopped up to get a few scratches and coos as you made sure she was ok. Looking up to find Grickob in a sorry state, lying in bed with a fever that had him sweating and shivering all at once.

“Gricko?” you called softly, stepping into the room. He didn’t respond, just mumbled something incoherent.

You approached the bed and found him lost in a feverish haze, his usually sharp eyes glazed over.

“It’s me,” you said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m here to help. Just rest, okay?”

He muttered something about “the shadows moving” and “never trust the clocks,” his voice barely above a whisper. You couldn’t help but smile a little at the absurdity of it all. Even in his delirium, Gricko was a strange one.

Hootsie curled up at the foot of the bed, keeping watch as you moved about, gathering supplies to help nurse him back to health. You made sure she was fed and comfortable, giving her the attention she needed while also trying to soothe Gricko’s fever.

Hours passed, and Gricko’s ramblings continued. He talked about forgotten memories, dreams that made no sense, and even mumbled your name a few times, though you couldn’t quite catch the context. Every now and then, he would open his eyes and look at you with a confused expression, as if he wasn’t sure if you were really there or just another figment of his fevered imagination.

As he slept you let her follow you around the Inn and help with the mundane chores. She helped you with the broom, letting her hold it while you swept. You opened the front door to let her run around in the grass and chase rabbits and mice that she found and ate for lunch.

Speaking of, you made sure to gather a few ingredients to make a nice soup. Making sure to make it hearty and filled with vegetables that you know Gricko lacks in his diet. As you prepared it Hootsie came in from her fun, sitting and watching you as you moved around the kitchen. When you finished you made sure to ladle a good helping and a good cup of tea with honey mixed in.

As you brought him a bowl of warm soup, he tried to sit up, but his strength failed him. He reached out, and his hand grasped the fabric of your pants, tugging weakly as he struggled to stay upright.

“Gricko, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” you whispered, setting the soup and tea aside to help him back down onto the bed.

But instead of letting go, he clung to you, his fingers trembling as he pulled himself closer. Before you knew it, he had curled up against you, his head resting on your lap like a weary, weak puppy seeking comfort.

“Stay,” he murmured, his voice barely a breath. “Don’t go…”

You couldn’t refuse him, not when he was like this. Gently, you stroked his hair, trying to soothe him as best you could. He nuzzled closer, his fever making him more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him before. The lines between platonic and romantic, between caring and something more, began to blur, but you weren't ready to question it. Just stroked his hair with a hum of a soft tune as Hootsie joined you both on the bed, laying by Gricko’s feet to watch as she too fell asleep.

As you sat there, with Gricko curled up in your lap, you realized just how much this strange, often misunderstood man meant to you. He might be freaky, with his odd habits and mysterious ways, but in this moment, all you saw was someone who needed love, just like anyone else.

And so, you stayed, holding him close, whispering reassurances until his breathing slowed and he drifted into a peaceful sleep. You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, hoping that, in his dreams, he’d find the comfort he so desperately needed.

But there was a shift that night. His delusions became less frequent, and instead, he watched you quietly as you took care of Hootsie. You heard him mumble something but when you turned to look at him, he had fallen asleep again. You smiled and let Hootsie cuddle up to her father as you tidied up his room.

When you left for a while to make him a small breakfast, you found him awake and talking quietly to Hootsie. You stopped for a second to listen to his soft words as Hootsie chirped and hooted.

“She let you play outside? And eat all the rats and rabbits? She really is a nice lady isn't she?”

You smiled to yourself before you entered the room with a soft ‘hello’.

Hootsie jumped from the bed to let you set the tray of food down as Gricko sat up. You smiled as he gave you a cheeky grin.

“I see you're feeling a little better.”

“Oh quite. I woke up to find the place tidy and a nice cup of tea next to me.”

You hummed as you brushed some of his hair back as his eyes crinkled in another smile and you saw them soften as he continued to watch you. You moved to sit at the end of his bed as he began to eat. Hootsie coming up to cuddle with you as you both talked about where everyone has been and other nonsense.

“Hootsie was telling me you were taking really good care of her.”

“Oh it wasn't anything special. She just needed someone while you were down for the count.”

You giggled as she purred and chirped at your words. He chuckled and leaned back from finishing his meal. He watched you both, you having a conversation with her and Hootsie responding to you. Hootsie turns to him and waddles up to lay by his side. She looked up at him with her big owl eyes and you could see him melt and scratch at her chin.

“She really likes you.”

“Hmm I hope so,” you chuckled as he glanced up at you.

“I really like you too.”

You blink at his soft words and can see he is being sincere with his words. He watches you and with a nervous laugh he shrugs as he looks away.

“Sorry. Probably something you don't want to hear.”

“That's not true Gricko,” you swallowed and stood up to grab the tray. “I like you too.”

You turned and started to leave the room as Gricko gave a slight cough.

“So hypothetical, if I wanted to take you out on a date, you wouldn't say no?”

You smiled and turned to Gricko with a wink, “get better and we'll see.”

As you walked down the hall you stifled a laugh as Gricko whispered excitedly to Hootsie.

“Oh Hootsie, did you hear that? You'll have a momma yet!”

[sabo-has-my-heart]

You're open for request 🥰🥰

Ok ok. Could I have a Katakuri x female reader? Katakuri being out and doing his duties and she wants to surprise him with Donuts for his Snack time? But she gets distracted in her mind, imagining New donut Decorations and ends up with WAY more Donuts than she thought and Katakuri Breaks her out of it, making her sigh and apologize for her head being in the clouds? That would be utterly adorable fluff

Thank you in advance and have a good day/night, and take enough Breaks! P.S you're amazing 🥰🥰🥰

This was so fluffy and sweet. Don't worry, I'm taking plenty of breaks, only one or 2 fics out a day, 3 if I'm really motivated (trust me, that's very few for me). I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: 

Word Count: 1470

     Working the dough, you couldn’t help but hum to yourself, you’d decided to make your boyfriend’s donuts today and had gotten a very early start, having started almost the second he left. You knew how many he could eat and his love for the pastry, so you wanted to make sure you had enough by the time his merienda came around. Moreover, while he wasn’t exactly picky about his donuts, he’d been eating the donuts made by the chateau chefs for years meaning that you wanted these to hold up to theirs. It had taken you weeks to get everything you needed without Kata noticing, wanting the pastries to be a surprise, but you knew it would be worth it when you saw the look on his face. You even had some planned out. Jelly filled, glazed, sprinkles, powdered, nuts, everything you could think of had been prepared for your beloved’s snack time. All that you had to do was make them and put them together!

     Pulling the last of the donuts out of the particularly large frier, you smiled. The ones you’d cooked first had already cooled enough to start glazing, meaning that you were still on schedule. Grabbing one of the bowls of glaze, you started in. Everything was going according to plan, you had everything planned out. You’d start with standard glazed and sprinkles, then you’d do powdered, after that you’d do miscellaneous toppings, and finally, jelly filled. You even had enough leftover dough for more donuts if you managed to finish early. Stopping, you suddenly grinned, putting the glaze aside and grabbing some colored donut frosting and the chocolate frosting. This was going to be adorable! Making the donut didn’t take long, setting it aside proudly. It wasn’t over the top or flashy, but it was covered in little pink hearts and read ‘to my beloved’ in burgundy. Frowning, you looked at it. On second thought, maybe it was too plain, perhaps something a little more grandiose would look better? Huffing, you grabbed more frosting before glancing at the unglazed donuts, if you kept decorating these ones like this, there wouldn’t be enough regular chocolate covered… maybe a few more donuts? It’s not like Katakuri wouldn’t eat them and he’d probably be touched that you made so many. Smiling, you quickly turned the fryer back on before returning to your decorations. This one was going to be a bit more extravagant, something more worthy of your astounding mochi boyfriend… mochi… would mochi taste alright in a donut? Running over to the fridge, you pulled some of the stretchy, sticky treat out. While mochi wasn’t Kata’s favorite treat, he might like the pairing between donut and mochi. Just one or two would be alright, right? Hurrying around the kitchen, you set the mochi down before picking the decorations back up, a gleam in your eyes as you returned to your donut making. 

     Wiping your brow, you smiled as you looked down at some of your decorations. Glancing at the time you nodded, you still had plenty of time to properly glaze and decorate the others as you’d planned. At worst, you’d be just a couple minutes late, you might even be early if you ran. Pausing, you turned to see how many donuts you had, making sure that you’d have enough, frowning and huffing once more when you double counted and noted an excess. You’d made too many… well, it would be okay, so it was a few too many, if worse came to worse, you could give them to the chateau chefs or something as a reward for their constant hard work. Besides, you still had so many decoration ideas! Putting the extras aside, you rolled up your sleeves. The special ones would be for Katakuri, the chefs could have the plain glazed ones if there were too many, but your darling Kata came first! 

     Finishing up the specially decorated donuts, you smiled. There! Now he had plenty of decorated donuts plus his regular donuts! Turning, you panicked, where… where were the donuts made for plain glazing. Spinning around, you looked in slight horror as you counted the special donuts. You’d had so many ideas, you’d just kept grabbing donuts! No, no, it was fine! It was… that was a great idea! Grabbing another donut, you went to work again, starting to fry up yet another batch. You still had time, right? You didn’t even bother looking at the clock, the decorations hadn’t taken that long, it would be fine. Even as the clock ticked the seconds away, Katakuri’s merienda was only half an hour away now. 

     The chateau chefs cowered under Katakuri’s hard glare. His merienda hadn’t just been late, it hadn’t shown up at all! This had honestly never happened, the chefs too afraid of his mother and in awe of his power to dare ignore his sacred merienda.

     “I-it’s not our fault, Katakuri, sir! We were told to not deliver your donuts today!” one of the chefs piped up, still cowering before the man.

     “And who holds enough authority over you to dare interfere with my merienda?” Katakuri demanded, looming over the poor, terrified chefs.

     “I-it was Lady Y/n, sh-she said she had it covered today! W-we swear it, sir! Said she was gonna do something special!” another chef squeaked, surprising the mochi man. You’d told them? You were doing something special for him? Then… where were you? It wasn’t like you to forget. His mind immediately jumped to the worst, running out of the kitchen before the chefs could even take another breath, the group sighing in relief at the man’s departure. Maybe they should ask Big Mom for protection from her son, the man was terrifying. 

     Slamming the door open, Katakuri was immediately greeted by the smell of donuts, the man rushing to the kitchen. Standing in front of one of the counters, completely oblivious to the outside world, was you, in the cutest apron and humming as you decorated more donuts. Why, however, he wasn’t sure. Every free spot on the counters was piled high with donuts. Racks stacked on top of racks holding more donuts! Even with his love of donuts, this was a bit much! Sighing, he walked over to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. Whirling around, you looked up at him, your heart pounding. You hadn’t even heard him come in! Why was he even here? It was only… your eyes widened as you looked at the time, it was well past his merienda and, knowing Katakuri, he very well may have killed one of the chateau chefs for not delivering his donuts. 

     “I’m so sorry, Kata! I… I meant to show up with these sooner! I just wanted to make you a few donuts today!” you said in a panic, watching as he raised an eyebrow before looking around. Uncertain what he was looking at, you took a look around as well, finally noticing the sheer amount of glazed and decorated pastry you really had. It was certainly more than the ‘few’ you’d wanted to make for him. You sighed, hanging your head. Not only had you not shown up with his donuts, but you’d made far, far more than you’d intended

     “I… I’m sorry Kata, I didn’t mean to.” you said softly, your shoulders sagging. Giving a small smile, he caressed your cheek, lifting your head, making you look at him.

     “Thank you for the gift, maybe next time get help from the chefs so you don’t make too many. Even I can’t eat this many.” he said softly, pulling his scarf down to give you a gentle kiss on the forehead. You smiled and nodded in agreement, letting Kata grab a large plate of donuts, heading towards the living room, “Could you do me one last favor and get me some tea?” he asked sweetly, making you smile. You nodded, turning towards the tea pot. It was the least you could do after all the trouble you’d probably caused. Katakuri just smiled as he set the donuts on the coffee table. It might be a late merienda, but he’d definitely have to do something nice for you after all the hard work you’d put into this. Besides, the donuts would probably keep for a day so it’s not like they’d be going to waste. It didn’t take long for you to enter the living room with the tea, sitting down with Katakuri as he took a bite of one of the donuts.

     “Delicious, worth the wait.” he said sweetly, making you blush. Honestly, you didn’t believe him, but you’d accept the compliment as he enjoyed his treat. You’d have to set an alarm or something next time so you weren’t late again, but you definitely wanted to make him more donuts in the future.

[astoryisaloveaffair]

Fix You - Chapter 14: Enjoy the Silence

Gif by @hunterschafer

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

Fic Masterlist

Read on A03

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Chapter Summary: The final heat...

Word Count: 7k

Rating: R

Chapter Warnings: Cussing, violence. I will not be warning anything else due to spoiling the story. We are all grown. You can stop reading when you want to.

A/N: Has it really been a year? I wish I had a better excuse than "I haven't been doing great." But that's what it is. I've had huge changes in my life. New job, new career, new goals, and a greater sense of self-worth. I'm feeling a lot better. But my new schedule is busy! Hopefully you can forgive me for such a long cliffhanger.

Finally, a heads up. This has been the arc I have been working towards for almost two years, and I'm not going to waver. Just stick with me like you have been. It’ll be worth it.

I also did the absolute most and made a specific playlist just for this chapter here.

Forever thank you to everyone who commented, reblogged, shared, boosted, made content for, and supported me. It meant a lot and definitely kept this fic in the back of my mind. As always, most love to my girl @musings-of-a-rose who has tolerated me being a shitty friend for a whole ass year, and always talking things through with me in life and in this fic. Cheers.

Suggested Songs: Depeche Mode "Enjoy the Silence", Fitz and the Tantrums: "Out of My League", Lizzo "Truth Hurts", Michael Kiwanuka "Cold Little Heart", Cigarettes After Sex "Cry", Guster "Demons"

Frankie and you decided to break your apartment lease starting October 1st. Fall term started on the 30th of August, and you wanted time to settle into your schedule before planning a move. You spent almost all your time at his house anyway, only stopping back at your apartment for more clothes. Frankie had already given you a row of drawers to keep your things in.

You’d honestly never been happier, both on cloud 9 and it never faded, you were incredibly excited to begin this new start with Frankie and Gabi. It all seemed to have happened so fast. It had only been five months, you hadn’t even told your family about him yet, mostly to avoid comments on the age gap. 

You were relieved the hiccup in your relationship settled, you didn’t like feeling unsure or that someone resented you. When you started feeling secure again, you clung to it. That sparkle of joy was hard to keep in check.

You picked your Fall schedule out together and spent the remaining weeks of summer basking in your relationship, playing with Gabi, going out with the guys, and constant fucking. But your most favorite thing was still lying on the couch with Frankie, teasing each other and watching bad TV.

“This is simultaneously the best and worst movie I have ever seen in my life. I don’t understand how they achieved this.”

Frankie shrugs, reaching to your lap for the giant bowl of popcorn, his eyes still glazed to the TV where Mad Max: Fury Road is playing. “I dunno. Who cares? It’s cars and chaos!”

“And Tom Hardy. And Charlize Theron.”

He pinches you on the waist, acting threatened by your thirst just to tease you. “You ever been to a demo derby? This kind of reminds me of it.”

You sit up from where your back is resting against his chest. “Um, no? Isn’t that kind of…for rednecks?”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but Benny and Will are rednecks. But no, it’s for anyone who likes cars crashing into each other. There’s actually one at the fair every year. We always go to it. You should come.”

“I’m not going to a demo derby.”

“Aw come on! It’ll be fun! First time for Gabi too, and there’s rides and games and funnel cake and fried oreos—” He pauses as you hold your hand up to silence him.

“I’ll go. You had me at ‘funnel cake.’”

The fair is packed. The final hurrah of the summer before kids return to school and university students dive back into their studies. The derby started at 8 PM sharp, you, Dali, and the boys got there plenty early to look around a bit, get some food, and find seats.

You forgo any typical entree and go right for the funnel cake, heaping fruit and extra powdered sugar on it until the plate is a big mound of sweet. The guys had talked you up on this for days, Benny wouldn’t shut up about it, and you found yourself excited to watch. Your legs bounce impatiently as you scarf down your cake, breaking off pieces here and there to feed to Gabi and your boys.

The seats were bleachers, hard metal planks that hurt your butt and back and caught vibration from every footfall, but Pope sat behind you so you could lean back against his legs to be more comfortable. 

It’s a long wait. The bleachers eventually fill up, you certainly had the best seat in the house (thank you Will), and you could see the hoods up of participating cars behind the commentator podium. The air is musty, the odor of wet dirt from a quick August shower earlier that day.

When the first round of vehicles start revving their engines, Frankie pulls some earphones for Gabi and secures it to her head. Once he’s sure she’s comfortable, he quickly runs you through the basic rules. “So there’s several ‘heats’, and which heat you’re in is based on how many cylinders the car has. Last car moving is the winner, but you can’t just avoid the other cars the whole time. No continuing if your car starts sparking from the engine, no hitting the driver side door, and no hitting anyone who’s already out.” 

“Wait, cars catch on fire in this?”

Before Frankie can answer, the announcer calls out the first heat and you almost choke at the state of the cars coming out. They were completely dilapidated, windows punched out and hood frames reinforced with extra steel. It looked like each entry had about 5 different parts all from different cars, horrendous paint jobs, and one of them even had a stuffed dinosaur duct taped to the hood. Some of them looked like they had already been hit by cars, parts hanging off and bumpers pressing in on itself. None of these cars would last at all. There’s no way...

The rink was surrounded by giant cement cinder blocks creating a large “rink” type area. The contestants lined the front bumpers of their vehicles up parallel to each other at the barricades separating the cars from the bleachers, alternately revving their engines during the countdown.

“Okay, so, usually we all pick the car we think is going to win.” Benny says. You lean forward to look over the assortment of jacked up cars for this heat, eventually settling on an old Toyota Corolla painted a matte black. Benny chooses the dino car, Will chooses a Dodge Stealth with it’s headlights hanging outside the socket, Dali and Pope argue over a Ford Taurus whose back end was already smashed into the back seats, and Frankie chooses a Chevy Impala, which you immediately regret not taking because it has such a long front and back end. Lots of room for smashing and being able to keep going.

Gabi jumps up and down on Frankie’s lap as he points out things to her over the sounds of engines and a countdown, and then the cars are off off, engines roaring and dirt kicking up as they all reverse at full speed, several of them crunching up in the middle while others circle around the perimeters.

It soon becomes clear to you that there is no rhyme or reason to which car makes it and which doesn’t. Pope’s Taurus didn’t even start and is eliminated after 2 minutes of no movement, and whoever is driving the boxy piece of shit Honda Accord that Dali had to select is a fucking maniac, winding and weaving at full speed backwards, hitting whoever gets in their way. Her choice is the winner of that heat. 

Most of them are driving backwards, and Will tells you it’s because they are trying to protect the engine. You deflate in your seat a little in disappointment, but he assures you that as the heat winds down and there's fewer cars taking up the space, the drivers and announcer will get impatient and they will hit each other head to head.

You’re shocked at how much you enjoy it. At one point a car hits the passenger side door of another so hard that it is pushed up and onto the barricade wall from the inertia, hanging from an angle as the crowd jeers and shrieks in excitement. One car flips over completely, another’s engine bursts into flames and the crowd all starts crying out caution because the announcer can’t see it. You’ve never seen anything like it before and there was so much fire you were sure the whole thing would blow up, but the driver slid out the glassless driver’s side window like it was no big deal and walked it off.

There is something satisfying about two cars hitting each other at full speed, the bodies of them crunching, wheels hanging off axles, bumpers being dragged behind and run over by other drivers, cars with mangled pieces becoming stuck to each other so they can’t separate until another car hits them, tires completely gone and cars only moving on its hubs. It’s chaos in a safe format, a way to experience destruction and violence in a way that feels good and unharmful. 

Gabi has never been so amazed in her entire life, her mouth hangs open and she wriggles against her dad to see everything, laughing every time a collision happens. The audience oohs and ahhs and boos and screams and cheers and teases, you and your friends join the clamor as you have your own mini competition with yourselves.  

Giant fork tractors come into the arena area to lift the cars that can’t move anymore, some guys are able to get theirs back up and running, driving them to the sides to shape up for the final Battle Royale.

The final heat is fucking wild. All the cars that were already battered enough before they even began to come back out, returned to do another round for the final winner. With all the action you’d barely even noticed that contestants whose cars were still driveable had spent the remaining heats beyond the barricades hammering and reforming their vehicles enough to compete again. 

And at the end, the winner of all faces the crowd, pulls off their helmet to reveal a thick curly mass of long hair.  The winner is a woman. You and Dali cheer until your throats hurt.

It’s over too soon. There’s a mass exodus the instant the derby is over, the packed stadium standing and pouring down the stairs pressing so tight that you and your boys decide to hang back until it thins out. You lead the way, Frankie’s large and warm hand grazing your waist as you slowly move down the stairs and back out into the fair, turning to wait for the rest of your friends to make it out.

“What next?” Benny says when you are all reunited. “More food? Games? Rides?”

“I’m not eating more before getting on rides, let's do those now.” Says Frankie, grumbling as he hears you tease him with Benny. He whips his head around to glare at you. “Just you wait until you get older and start getting sick on rides, I cannot wait to make fun of you back.”

The wait for the ride tickets is long, but it leaves plenty of time for the group to decide how many are needed. Who is riding what, who isn’t, what pairings and who will watch Gabi on the rides she can’t do. You’re surprised when Will and Pope back out of the Zipper, leaving you and Benny as a pairing for that.

Riding it was a mistake. The ride is basically a giant airborne conveyer belt with completely enclosed containers for people hanging off it that were 360 degree capable. And it lasted FOREVER. You lose some of your funnel cake behind the ride out of sight, threatening violence on Benny if he outs you to the others. 

But it didn’t stop you from riding The Freak Out immediately afterwards, a rotating pendulum swing that made you feel like you were going to be catapulted out of your seat. The ride seated 4 groups of 4 so that in between squeezing your eyes shut, you could catch watery glimpses of Benny red-faced and cackling hysterically, Will’s chants of “ohfuckohfuckohfuckOHfuckOHFUCKOHSHIT FUCCCCCCK!”, and Frankie looking…absolutely fine. It was almost disturbing really, he was calm and collected, the only hint that this might have been something other than a nice drive in his truck was his giant smile, the tears leaking from his squinted eyes, his chocolate curls whipping around in the breeze as his hands clutch his hat in his lap with a steel grip.

“How the fuck were you so calm?!” You gasp as you stumble off the rickety landing platform. You hadn’t moved yet you felt like you had run a mile, your heart was beating so fast from the adrenaline it almost felt like you might have a heart attack. 

Frankie shrugs. “Feels like a copter in a bad air current.” 

You simply stare blinking. 

“No, he’s always like this. Like this one time, we were flying in a helo over the Andes mountains, and—”

A sharp stare from Frankie that he tries to hide from you makes Benny backpedal. 

“Uhhh yea we were flying over some mountains and the air current was wild but we got over the mountains just fine and everything was fine and we were fine.”

Your heart seizes in your chest, that same feeling of not being told something creeping up. You hate it. You push it back down, swallowing heavily to center yourself. “So I assume you were fine.”

“Yea. Yea. Cat is a good pilot.” 

You hum, the panic still not leaving your chest.

Frankie grabs your hand as you walk. “It happened a lot, I just got used to it.”

“It happened a lot?”

“Yea. I mean, sometimes we were flying through shit climates, sometimes even pursued. Doesn’t make for a smooth ride. I’m just used to it. They always scream bloody murder though.” Frankie smiles softly.

“Oh.”

You go silent, continuing to walk to the next destination: the scrambler. You had already established you would not ride and Dali wanted some funnel cake herself, so she heads off while you stay off to the side with Gabi to watch, lost in your own thoughts.

“Just don’t fucking talk about that, none of that. That never happened.” Frankie seethes to Benny as they are strapped into the ride. 

“Sorry dude, I can’t read your thoughts. I figured she knew.”

“No. I don’t want her to know. No one else needs to know about it.”

Benny falls silent, looking to Will beside him. Pope lowers his head, choosing to say nothing.

“Catfish…you have to.” Says Will.

“No the fuck I don’t. I never want her to know. If she knows…she’ll actually see ‘real me’. ‘Fuck-up me.” And I don't want her to yet. I don’t want to lose her yet. I don’t want her to be afraid. Stop fucking looking at me like that.”

They stop. But only because the ride starts, and they can’t see anything other than blurs.

You hate this feeling, this fluttering in your stomach like something is wrong but your heart knows, it knows it’s fine. It has to be. Your mind is spinning, trying to combat the rising anxiety clenching in your chest, doing gymnastics to find reasons to not be alarmed.

He’s not lying about something. He’s not. …He promised….I’m just overthinking this…

You can’t. You refuse to even think about it. Confronting the terrible possibility that you might’ve done it again, you might have thrown yourself all in to someone only to—-no. 

He’s not lying. He’s not. …He promised….he’s different. I’m just overthinking this…

You can feel butterflies bubbling in your stomach and you feel like you might throw up. Fucking men. You huff in frustration and try to distract yourself with your surroundings, watching people on rides, sharing funnel cake. Your eyes scan over two men staring at you silently by a skewered chicken cart and in your current mood it makes you furious. “What the fuck are you staring at?!” You growl at them. They say nothing and slowly walk away, disappearing into the crowd. Fucking. Men.

You try not to let your emotions show. You sit back while Gabi goes on some rides for her age, using the time to rehydrate and calm yourself down. Living through Gabi’s joy helps.. She’s having a blast, choosing a different person to pair with for each time ride. Pope in the Wacky House, the Helicopters with her dad, Benny on the mini Viking ship. Once you feel better you join in to play bumper cars (Will and Gabi win) and ride the high-rise swings with her seated in the cool metal chair next to you, Benny singing along to the ambient speakers playing “Out of My League” so loud eventually all the other teens on the ride join in.You enjoy the mini coaster more than you thought you would considering it’s for kids Gabi’s age, you and Dali are the only others who can fit in the seats, no matter how hard Benny tried. It was easy to quickly forget.

After the coaster, Gabi begins to slow down, so you hit the fried oreo stand, paying for several batches despite protestation and alternately feeding everyone as the group slowly walks through the agricultural parts of the fair. It’s calmer here, the air warm and quiet. The pathway is less crowded so Gabi is able to frolic around on the walkway in front of you safely. 

You walk through every barn, stopping to pet every animal. She’s a natural with them. Completely fearless, not one flicker of apprehension as she approaches cows and horses that are easily 6 times her height, paying close attention to her dad in how to not spook them. Everyone finds the goats to be the favorite because of the sounds they make. Even more so when Frankie engages in a screaming contest back and forth with a bunch of them until someone shoos them out of the pavilion.

Soon, all the sugar Gabi consumed rears its ugly head in the rabbit barn, she throws a fit when Frankie won’t let her get a pet rabbit and you only just catch her upper arm in time to keep her from collapsing on the filthy barn floor. You’re surprised she held out so long. Even you were crashing and getting tired. Also, the rabbits were ridiculously cute.

“Listen Gabi, how about we ride the ferris wheel? Would you like that?” You kneel before her, swiping the tears off her cheeks as she catches her breath. “It goes really high! Higher than the swings!” She nods, sniffing in a snot bubble as she takes your hand. The two of you lead the way, and as you get closer and closer, you start to regret your decision. 

It’s much taller than the Freak Out. By more than 100 feet. It doesn’t look very stable either.

“Wait...this…this looks kind of high, don’t you think?” You turn to the guys, trying to conceal the wavering in your voice. You were scared enough at 70 feet. This was more like 200.

“Height requirement says she’s fine. And it’s enclosed, goes really slow. Come on.” Frankie takes you by the hand and your heart leaps into your throat, your feet skidding across the lawn as you try to pull back. 

A light shove pushes you forward and you turn to glare at Will as he smirks down at you. “If you don’t go I’m never going to let you hear the end of it. Not after you called us “old and broken down.”

Well shit.

“Fine.”

You’re shaking when it’s your turn, the group mad dashing to three cars next to each other so you could talk throughout. Benny pairs with Pope, Gabi is vibrating with excitement as she’s put into a carriage by Will and Dali, and Frankie is beaming as he motions you towards the left car. He pats your butt as you gingerly step in, waiting until you’re seated before joining you and taking your hand. 

“Babe…are you okay?”

You swallow, grateful it’s dark enough he can’t see you trembling. “Yep. I’m good.” 

He leans forward in his seat, the glowing phosphorescence of the lights of the ride and around the fair bathing him halfway in a multicolored glow. tThe colors and shadows fold into the angles of his face like rainbow chiaroscuro, an angular stained glass window. He takes your hand again, yours is swallowed in his palm and you close your eyes as he rubs his thumb across the top. The dark beat of Depeche Mode pounds against your chest and echoes in your ears and you briefly imagine this is what it must feel like to drop acid.

“Your hands are really sweaty…and you’re breathing really fast. Are you sure you’re okay? Hey…” He squeezes your palm and you open your eyes to meet his. “It’s okay if you’re scared. I won’t joke anymore about it, I’m sorry.”

You swallow. “It’s just really really high.”

Frankie watches the ride operator out of the corner of his eye passing their car as he makes sure everyone is safely locked in before tugging on your arm slightly. You slide forward minutely, he meets you more than halfway with his large limbs and rests his hands on your hips. You gasp as the ride jolts and begins rolling, lifting the cabs up in the air. His calloused fingertip pushes your head back up.

“How about I distract you.” He murmurs, shifting forward one inch more, tilting his neck as his soft pouty lips meet yours. 

You close your eyes, trying to lose your self awareness into him and his mouth and the soft skin of his nose that bumps your cheek and tickles your nose with its little breaths. 

The lift mechanism suddenly shudders, clunking over something and it feels like when you run over a squirrel in your car. You inhale sharply against Frankie’s lips as your cab jostles back and forth. Not much, but enough for you to slam yourself back against your seat and clutch the seat bottom as hard as you can. Your heart beats wildly and you imagine the ride breaking and dropping you on the ground to be crushed to death by this stupid fucking metal cab.

You feel pressure on your knees and look down, focusing hard to not see double from fear. Frankie cups both in his hands, thumbs lightly stroking the inside of your thighs. “It’s okay.” He reassures, squeezing your knees once more. “Probably an under-greased cog, it’s nothing. They test these things like 50 times a day.”

You simply stare, forcing yourself to nod. 

“Close your eyes.”

You open your mouth to argue then close it and obey. You trust Frankie, and it can’t be any worse. 

“Just focus on me. And…you hear the music? It’s called “Enjoy the Silence.” I was obsessed with this song when it came out. And can you hear Benny below us? I can hear Gabi laughing too. We’re all okay, you’re okay too.”

You bite your lips into your mouth, focusing on the song and Frankie’s husky voice. The meditative synth pop calms you, and the carefree voices of your friends below does help calm you, but you can’t slow down your heartbeat. 

“I’m okay. Just too much adrenaline.”

The hands on your knees slide up your bare thighs and wrap around the bottoms of them. Frankie pulls you forward in your seat with a smirk. “I’m feeling a little amped up too.”

“Frankie.”

He doesn’t respond, his sole focus on your thighs as his hands slide up and up and up until he is just able to slip the tip of one of his fingers under one leg of your shorts. For some reason, it pisses you off.

“Frankie!” You hiss. “People could see us.”

“Nah…” He shushes you, his finger sliding lower. 

You clamp your legs shut and push his hand back in his direction. “Frankie, I don’t want to right here.” 

He sits up. “Oh.”

Suddenly you hear Benny’s voice from below. “Hello we are underneath you guys! I don’t want to hear any hooking up sounds!” He trolls, and you fully push Frankie back to his side, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.

It’s the first time you can remember that it’s ever been uncomfortably awkward between the two of you, and you’re not sure why. The silence seems so much more noticeable and weird against the clanking of the Ferris wheel gears and the chattering of random other people.

You’re not even looking at each other, you realize. When did that happen? Your neck cranes to the left as you gaze at the stars, and when you turn back towards Frankie, he is looking to the right and down at the fair. 

“…Is everything okay?”

His eyes snap back to yours. “Yea? Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Cause I pushed you away, and…I dunno, you’re being weird..”

“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s not intentional. I’m not upset, c’mere.” He opens his arms wide to you, scooting on his bench so there’s enough room for you.

You hesitate. “Won’t it…won’t it throw off the balance?”

You feel ridiculous asking but he doesn’t laugh at you, just shakes his head slightly. “Nah, they wouldn’t be able to run this ride if people couldn’t sit on the same side.”

You balance awkwardly on the edge of your bench overanalyzing what exact moment during the track of the ride to launch onto his, but you overthink it and end up jostling the cab more than necessary. Frankie’s arms pull you into his side and you burrow your face in his neck as the cab continues to rock. The music fades from Depeche Mode to Lizzo to Lil’ Nas X (Will clearly enjoys that one) and then back to Lizzo, and you forget all about your uneasiness.

He was right. It did feel better being with him. 

The ride does one more pass then rolls to a halt, letting off you with Frankie and Benny with Santiago. You hover at the exit for Will and Gabi, who have to wait for their cab to reach the platform before dismounting. Frankie takes your hand as you wait.

Gabby’s adrenaline rush runs out fast, and you spend the remainder of the fair eating more fried Oreos and playing games. Somehow you manage to beat them all at the water shooting game, which amps up the competitiveness to the point you’d rather just watch.

Which is how you end up at the “star” game. 

“We’re so fucking good at this game, it pisses them off every time.” Laughs Benny, as he shoots the entire Star out perfectly with the gun that is specifically not given enough ammo to achieve this. You hop up on the far side of the counter to watch, noting the way each of you boys handles their weapon and the differences in each. Benny held his gun loosely, like he was relaxed and self assured. It almost seemed like you would be able to slap it out of his hands but you knew he still had an iron grip. Will was precise and, as you expected, “perfect form”. You could tell just from Pope’s posture change that he was the best shot on the team, you’d never seen him look so focused. Frankie held his with a tense white knuckle grip, the folding stock tucked against his shoulder joint. The tension carrying up his arms as his veins popped out in his forearms and biceps. He looked fucking good. And you wouldn’t consider yourself a “gun person.” In fact, you kind of hated them. But there just was something about a strong non-douchey man holding a rifle like that that activated you. Damn the patriarchy. Even Dali is a great shot, though not as good as the guys.

After a few rounds, the carnie finally stopped allowing your posse to keep playing, frustrated that somehow the rigging system didn’t work on your group. You lean back on your hands, your legs swinging against the wood counter, observing Benny arguing with the carnie with a smirk. Gabi is passed out in her stroller next to you as Frankie sidles up to you, feeding you a piece of Fried Reeses, then promptly kissing you so the taste floats between you. 

He hums deeply, stepping closer to you til he’s between your legs. His hands rest low on the top of your thighs. “This ok?”

You smile. “Yes. More than okay. And I want more.” 

Frankie beams and cups your face, his lips crashing into yours as he all but breathes you in. You tilt your head and poke his mouth with your tongue. He responds immediately and opens for you, meeting you halfway. You whine softly as his hands leave your cheeks and trail down your back, one hand sneaking a bit lower to discreetly cup your ass. You’ve just wound your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck when you hear a shrill voice cut through the din of the dwindling crowd.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Your heart slams to a halt so fast it hurts. You recognize that voice. And so does Frankie. Your heads both snap to the left as a disheveled looking Lex stands there with a bunch of her friends.

Frankie simply stares. She repeats herself. “Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me. The BABYSITTER? Are you fucking your BABYSITTER??? Oh Frankie…come on…how pathetic can you be? She’s like a child!”

You look at Frankie, receding into himself like a silent, terrified puppy. You’ve never seen him like this before, it unnerves you.

“Excuse me.” You snap back. “I am 28.”

She scoffs. I fucking knew something was going on with you two. And you’re doing this in front of my child?”

“Well, actually, Gabi is sleeping. At least she was, until you came ranting and raving.” You make eye contact with Pope, who reads your perfectly and starts steering Gabi’s stroller away so she can’t hear. “We made sure to be careful for her but why do you even care if we are fucking? You left him! You didn’t want him anymore, so it shouldn’t fucking matter who he dates.” 

“He’s a drug addict and a pathological liar. He will NEVER change.”

“Yea? And you are a drunk, controlling, OCD bitch who can’t mind her own fucking business. He’s happy with me. I trust him. Unlike you. Bye.” You couldn’t help yourself, you just fucking hated her.

But that set her off. “Did he tell you why he was suspended?”

“Yes, he—“

“Did he tell you he was high, flying a family and he almost injured everyone from a sloppy landing? Did he tell you how he would take Gabi to his drug dealers house with him? How he went on a STUPID fucking mission with these idiots to burglarize a fucking drug lord completely off paper? That I deliberately asked him not to because we had a new baby? That he crashed their helicopter, dropped all their money and shot innocent villagers to keep them from getting it? At children and old men adn women? That because of that, Molly’s husband was shot in the fucking head by one of those people? And then they couldn’t even bring the money back so it was all for no reason?”

She’s shouting now, spittle flying from her inebriated lips. One of her friends tries to grab her arm but she shakes them off. People in the crowd are starting to stop and watch. “Then, THEN, he treated me like shit, saying horrible things to me just when he was mad, throwing things, scaring me!”

You feel like you can’t breathe, it’s too much information all at once. “...What? I don’t…No. no, he said he was on a delta mission–”

“Oh sweetheart,” She sneers condescendingly. “He was on a greed mission. He was retired from delta. This was like a year ago. They all wanted to get rich and robbed a fucking drug kingpin and Frankie shot innocent people to make sure he got alllllll that money. And because of that, his friend was shot and killed and his family has NO idea why. He lied to you.”

You turn to look at him, and all his friends. Everyone is silent, trying not to look up from the ground. Dali looks as bewildered as you. “Frankie…?” Tears water in your eyes and you feel like your heart is going to burst. You thought he told you it was an enlisted mission, but on top of everything else you just learned your thoughts are rushing so fast you can’t seem to remember specifics. 

Frankie can’t even look at you. And that’s how you know. 

It’s true…

“Lex. Stop.” Will’s Southern drawl cuts through the silence, the commanding officer in him coming out. “It’s over. This shit between you two has to stop. Enough.” His eyes shift to Lex’s friends, who are nodding and repeating the same thing. Lex finally allows them to pull her away muttering under her breath, sending one last glare in your direction.

The walk to the truck is silent. The ride home is a foggy blur. But the minute you step into the house, you crack. 

“Frankie please tell me all this is not true.” You can’t read him at all, his face is completely blank as he moves around you towards Gabi’s bedroom to tuck her in.

So you wait.

His hackles are already up when he comes back out.

“Frankie–”

“Yea.”

“Well?”

“Yea. It’s true. We tried to steal money from one of Pope’s cases and it backfired and Tom got shot.”

“Because of you.”

His expression changes then, from blank nothing to vicious defensive anger. “Yea. Because of me. I fucked up the flight back and we crash landed and these fuckin’ villagers were gonna take the money! And it was an accident!”

“You ‘accidentally’ shot innocent people?”

He swallows, his jaw clenching and unclenching. You can see he’s doing mental gymnastics in order to avoid accountability. 

“Did your finger slip?”

No answer. 

“Frankie. Did your finger slip on the trigger?”

You already know the answer before he says it. And somehow it’s like he morphs into a Disney villain as he says it. “No. My finger didn’t slip.”

It burns, the sharp pain in your heart that makes you feel like it’s having a seizure or forgot how to pump blood or is pumping too much blood. “How many people did you kill.”

He shrugs. “I dunno.”

“You don’t know? How can you not know?! Frankie, you told me this was your job! You- you fucking lied to me! I-I I asked you if you were hiding anything else from me and you fucking lied to me!” You can’t help your voice raising, the tears spilling out of your eyes as you realize how fucking stupid you had been. Somewhere in the background you can hear Gabi has woken and is hysterically crying. Frankie, clearly having enough, turns back towards her room. But you continue, screaming at his back. “And that’s why Tom is dead? And his family doesn’t know why?!”

Frankie doesn’t answer and suddenly you are enraged. You run behind him and shove him forward. “I’m fucking talking to you! How can you just be so fucking blase about this??? And…all that other shit???—I feel like I don’t know you at all!”

He whirls around, that furious murderous face you ‘ve seen him give others is finally directed at you. “Because you don’t!” He screams back, his teeth nash and he shoves a finger one inch from  your face. You flinch.

“Frankie, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m scaring you? Really? I thought this was your thing?” 

You blink, confused, tears stalling on your face. “Don’t–”  You plead softly.

“No, Lex is right. You’re a naive little girl who thinks she can save worthless idiots like me and live some fucking fantasy happily ever after. You won’t. You can’t. I’m unfixable.”

“How can you say that!! Frankie, I love you!

He scoffs. “I know you think you do. And I know you aren’t stupid, you told me you’ve done this before. But guess what sweetie, you aren’t better, you’re still doing it because you’re so fucking desperate for someone to love you. You don’t love me. You just want to feel like some fucking savior.”

“No! No… I didn’t, I don’t…you told me you loved me!”

“I wanted to fuck you.” His eyes are black as far, it’s like you don’t even recognize his face anymore. Lex was right. Lex was right. How…did you make all of it up in your head?

“You…You’re a fucking psycho…I feel like you emotionally manipulated me into caring for you only for you to play games with me! I specifically told you I couldn’t go through this again and you fucking did it anyway!”

“Hey, you kissed me. And you were fun to fuck, I will admit that. Let me do fucking anything. But we both knew this would happen. You set yourself up. I did shoot those villagers. I caused Tom’s death. I just wanted the fucking money. And I wanted to kill a bunch of kids too, when they got in my way. Fuckin’ teenagers and I told Pope to fucking shoot them all.  And you know what else? We went back and got all that fucking money we hid, and we are fucking swimming in it. And I didn’t share a goddamn dime with my ex. You’re right. I am a psycho, so it’s a good thing this is over. Pack your shit and leave me alone.”

“Fuck you Frankie.”

You don’t wait another moment. You don’t need to be asked twice this time. You shove him aside on your way down the hallway, doing everything you can not to let the second round of tears fall. He’d seen enough.

You slam the door of the master bedroom behind you, frantically bouncing around different points in the room to grab all your shit. When did all of this stuff even get here? Anxiety bubbles up your chest until you can’t take it anymore and say fuck it, he can just throw anything else out. I have to get out of here.

You rush back down the hallway like a speed demon, praying to whatever that he won’t be standing in the hallway still. He isn’t. He’s sitting on his couch facing away from you, his head in his hands. You hate yourself for wanting to go comfort him. He’s right…I’m

not better…

You pause on the front doorway, struggling to say what needs to be said. Don’t be weak. Don’t keep letting people do this to you over and over. “Don’t contact me.I never want to see you again.” You say to his back.

He doesn’t move a muscle, or even look at you. “You won’t.”

You were able to make it halfway across the lawn before the grief fully hit. By the time you got to your car you were gasping like you were no longer able to breathe. And the minute your car door shut you broke, a wailing sob bursting from your lips as you bury your face in your palms. 

Again. It happened again. And it’s just as crushing as every other time, except now it feels like you never healed from the others and now they are all piling on top of the other with this one as the final blow.

Why. WHY? Was there something wrong with you? Why were you never enough? Why couldn’t you make them stay? What did you do to keep having to go through this? It almost killed you last time, your eyes squeeze shut as you remember the look on your parents face as they watched you writhe on your bed screaming and crying hysterically from your latest breakup.

And why did you let yourself fall into it again, like you had never learned a goddamn thing. It was like you were masochistic, you told yourself you would never need someone again so badly, you wouldn’t enmesh yourself so fully that when it fell apart you could barely function. Your heart was once again ripped out of your chest and thrown to the floor, the cracks from before making this shattering into pieces so small you know it can’t get repaired again.

With a trembling whimper, you pull your face out of your hands and wipe your eyes, your nose. You realize you’re still sitting in Frankie’s driveway and you immediately look to see if he's at the window, concerned for you. He isn’t. You hate yourself for it but it breaks you even more. 

It’s over.

You drive home mindlessly, your Spotify on shuffle and you aren’t aware of anything else. Just get home. Just get home and then you can cry, try to move on. But you already know you won’t. 

You finally tire yourself out of tears, and you try to talk yourself up, turning up the music and chanting “it’s okay” to yourself. 

It’s Coldplay. You always liked Coldplay. 

When you're too in love to let it go

But if you never try, you'll never know

Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you…

Tears stream down your face

When you lose something you cannot replace

Tears stream down your face, and I–

You slam the on/off button so hard you actually cause the auxiliary cord to malfunction, so you rip it out of your phone and throw the damn thing on the passenger seat. You drive home in silence.

It’s dark in the lot when you arrive. You park in a spot along the side and towards the back because the lot is mostly full. The only light shining is the pole yards away, the bulb switches off and on opposite of the dark one right above you. 

You feel numb. You can still feel sticky dried tears on your face, but your ability to utter a sound is gone. You close your eyes and try to compose yourself, simply sitting in your car in the dark. You’re avoiding going upstairs, you know. You’ve pretty much been living at Frankie’s. Walking through that door would make it feel too ‘official’. You cover your face with your hands and rub the tears tracks off your raw face, and are about to take a breath and gather your shit when a THWACKING sound bursts right in your left ear.

You startle with a yelp and look out your window, prepared to tell off whoever is messing with you, but freeze when you find yourself face to face with the barrel of a gun, the only thing separating you from it is the shitty window glass on your cheap car.

»»———————►

Post A/N: Don't yell at me lol

[coryosbaby]

hi love!!! i am so in love with your blog and content !! you’re amazing !!

i was wondering if i could request ethan x afro-latina! reader. i was imagining a scenario where he’s introduced to her by the group and he’s pulled in because of her aura. i don’t think there’s anything else specific i’m thinking of other than her wearing a lot of gold jewelry and having a small tattoo of whatever you want in between her boobs bc i love when girls have that 🤭

ty for reading this !!!!

- 🥥

Ethan Landry x Afro Latina! Reader

Thank you so so much, love. Was getting major hippie/summer-ey vibes from this so decided to write the reader that way. This is like, insanely short but I’m thinking ab making this a series w different parts. If this doesn’t appeal to you, feel free to write to me and ask for a redo <3

Warnings: none, just Ethan pining over the reader :)

When Tara says that she has a new friend that she wants everyone to meet, they agree to meet up and go bowling together. Ethan and Chad conversating over a video game as they walk into the door of the bowling alley, a water bottle resting in both boy’s hands.

Sitting at a table with the group is where Ethan first sees her.

A girl, and an unfamiliar one, it seems. This must be Tara’s new friend.

Its during summer, by the way. A specific detail, yet it remains because of how much the girl reminds Ethan of the season. She has captivating, warm eyes, a beautiful complexion, and a natural look to her glazed features. A sliver of soft brown skin peeks out through her slightly cropped shirt. Golden rings and necklaces hang off of her fingers and neck, and in between her tits rests the numbers 444 in solid black ink.

He tries not to stare at her for too long.

When they get there Tara tells the girl their names one by one. Her eyes set on Ethan when she feels his gaze on her.

She smiles at him, and Ethan’s heart begins to run rampant, his face flushing cherry red as she shakes his hand and greets him with one singular word.

“Hi.” Her voice is angelic, just like her.

“Hey.”

He doesn’t mean for his words to sound hushed and quiet, and he definitely doesn’t mean for his hand to hold onto hers for so long, but it does. She rubs a small circle into his skin and then lets out a giggle as she lets go.

“Tara didn’t tell me that she had a cute friend.”

[ak47stylegirl]

Let me take care of you.

This fic/chapter literally tried to kill me, It's a miracle I got it to a point where I can post it lol I hope you guys enjoy it!

Continued on from this fic.

--

Scar was woken up a couple of hours later by Jellie pawing at his face. “Well, hello there, Miss Jellie…” Scar smiled at the cat sitting on his chest like she owned it, “You’re hungry, I’m guessing?” 

Jellie meowed in response, rubbing her cheek against Scar’s face. 

“Hmm, well let’s not keep you waiting, huh…” Scar hummed, giving Jellie an affectionate scratch behind the ear as he did so. Giving Jellie a nudge to jump off him, Scar glanced over at Grian. 

The avian was snuggled up beside Scar, his feverishly hot cheek smooshed up against Scar’s shoulder. 

Scar smiled sadly, the sight was adorable, yes, but his pesky bird didn’t look anywhere near well at all. Grian’s face was flushed red, his hair/head feathers damp with sweat. Scar could physically feel the heat radiating from Grian. 

It concerned Scar on so many levels. 

Scar sighed as he began untangling himself from Grian’s hold, carefully lowering Grain’s head onto their pillow. Waiting a second to see if that had disturbed the avian, (It didn’t, thank the Void…) Scar carefully slipped his legs off the bed; and sat up. 

Scar yawned as he stretched, allowing his mind and body to adjust to being vertical. It was important Scar let his body adjust, otherwise he would probably trigger a dizzy spell and fall over. No one wanted that. 

(Scar had gotten up too fast before…it’s not fun facepalming the floor) 

Chronic illness was a bitch but at least it wasn’t too bad today. Scar would have been devastated if his medical issues kept him from looking after his pesky bird. Jellie meowed, her tail held high as she rubbed her body against Scar’s legs. 

She was getting impatient.

“Oh Shush, Little Miss…” Scar mumbled as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, grabbing his cane as he stood up with a small grunt. “I know you’re hungry, but we don’t want to wake your papa-”

“Scar?” 

Scar grimaced as he turned around, finding Grian groggily peering up at him. Scar couldn’t help but notice how the avian could barely lift his head off of the pillow. Concern once again flooded Scar’s heart and soul. 

“Hey love…” Scar sighed as he gave Grian a soft look, leaning down to press a kiss to Grian’s forehead. “I’m just feeding Jellie…you go back to sleep, okay?” 

Grian looked briefly ready to argue against that. But any attempts to get up were short-lived as Grian was wrecked with full-body shivers and stomach cramps. Grian nodded with a groan, wrapping an arm around his upset stomach. 

“Oh love…” 

Scar bit his lip, glazing down at Grian, who seemed sicker each time Scar looked. There had to be something he could do to help? Maybe they had some health or regen potions lying around? 

Jellie howled, causing Scar to wince. (And worst, it caused Grian to whimper)

“Okay, okay…I got the message Jellie…” Scar pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing as he made his way out of the bedroom, cat following close behind. “You could be a little more con-con-siter-...dang it! Kind, you could be a little more kind, girl…” 

Jellie jumped up onto the kitchen counter, meowing like she didn’t have a clue what Scar was talking about. She was a little angel. 

“Your papa’s not feeling well…” Scar explained as he grabbed Jellie’s food out of the fridge, scooping some into Jellie’s little bowl. “So meowing at the top of your lungs doesn’t really help, missy…” 

Scar placed Jellie’s bowl down near the kitchen window, unable to stop himself from smile as she began to devour it. “You’re lucky you’re too cute to stay mad at…hmmm, that’s something you and your papa both got in common…” 

No matter what Grian says, his pouting face is adorable. Actually, Grian was just adorable in general. (Though he could also be downright terrifying, which Scar found sort of hot-)

The morning sun was long on its way up into the sky, lighting up the apartment. Now that Scar was up, he decided he might as well get ready for the day. First things first, Scar needed a shower, (Plus nature was calling).

Silently, Scar made his way back into the bedroom (For clothes) and the sight that met him made his heartache. Grian had curled up into a feeble ball, cuddling Scar’s pillow close. With a sigh, Scar grabbed some clothes out of his dresser. 

Stopping briefly by the bed, Scar leaned down and kissed Grian’s cheek. Grian hummed softly in his sleep, snuggling deeper into the pillow with a slight smile. Mission accomplished, Scar made his way to the bathroom. 

TBC...

[writing-on-the-wahl]

Look Alike Part 5

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4 

Sooo, are you going to show me what you do here?” 

Civilian stared up at Villain. Was he serious? But as he stood before her, rocking back and forth on his heels as he took in the room for what felt like the first time, that Civilian realized he was serious. 

“I uh…” 

Before she could come up with a response, Villain’s gaze caught on the mound of wet clay she’d abandoned on the pottery wheel, and his shoulders and his hopeful expression dropped as he took a step back. “I’m sorry- I interrupted…”

Suddenly the thought of being alone while she yet again attempted to throw the perfect pot sounded intolerably lonely. “It’s fine!” she blurted. “I was just going to practice for my ceramics class. I can just clean it up and show you around.” 

Villain shook his head. “It’s fine; you have work to do and I …” He hesitated, all of the suave confidence from early disappearing as he tucked his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath. “Maybe I could stay while you worked? See what you do?” 

Oh that was much worse than giving him a tour of the kilns. Civilian’s insides twisted at the thought of having an audience for what would mostly likely be an unsuccessful evening, if the last two weeks were anything to judge by. 

She should definitely say no. She’d never performed well under pressure. It always made her chest tighten and her hands tremble. 

Not the greatest conditions for delicate ceramic work. 

But the beautiful apology bouquet on the table reminded her why he’d come here, and all he’d done trying to make it up to her. Maybe she could just show him around a little and he’d forget about watching her work. 

So Civilian smiled. “That’s ok, I can work on it later. Let me show you around.” She held her breath until Villain smiled back. 

“If you’re sure.” 

Normally she would have started with the pottery wheels, explaining how the clay was shaped into the pots and bowls and all manner of things. But she didn’t want to remind him he was keeping her from work, so she instead led him to the tables and chairs where customers could glaze their chosen items. 

“So did you make any of these?” 

“No!” Civilian snorted as Villain wandered towards the shelves that carried a variety of pre-made ceramics for customers to glaze. “Those are all made in molds. Most of our business comes from people who just want to glaze something that’s already made. Making your own pottery can be difficult.” 

Villain nodded as he stepped up to a shelf containing a variety of ceramic animals and picked up a palm-sized statue of a goat. “That makes sense. The real question is who would pick something like this.” He gestured to the shelf of various bowls and mugs. “Those at least have a function.” 

She shrugged. “We stock the animals for the kids. Although the adults choose them just as often. Especially the college students.” 

Villain grimaced as he eyed the goat. “That’s ridiculous.” 

Civilian stepped closer, plucking the goat from his hand and holding it up to eye level. “Awwww but it’s so cute!!” 

A tiny smile cracked through Villain’s critical veneer, and Civilian wanted to cheer. 

“Can you imagine this on my desk?” 

Civilian mentally placed a brightly colored goat like the one that four year old had glazed last week on a desk of dark mahogany, the statue comical against neatly organized files and papers. 

“What do you do for work?” The question was out of her mouth before she realized what she’d said. She clapped a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t—”  

The imaginary desk was replaced with the visceral memory of a blacked out van, a dark room. 

When her mind returned to the pottery shop, the guilt on Villain’s face told her he knew exactly where her thoughts had gone. Before he could apologize, again, she looked around for something to distract him. The solution was so simple, yet not easy at all. 

Steeling herself, Civilian gestured to the row of pottery wheels. “We also offer weekly classes for those who want to try their hand at making their own pottery. I can show you how it works, if you’d like?” 

It seemed like an eternity of waiting, and she wondered if he was still going to try apologizing. 

But then Villain nodded, and soon enough he had pulled a stool up near her wheel and was watching intently as she began to center her clay. 

“So what are you doing now?” 

Civilian began explaining about the process: the throwing, the centering, the shaping. Villain’s arms rested on his knees as he leaned forward, nodding at each step of her explanation. When her pot went careering off center, Civilian flushed, ready to be embarrassed until Villain’s eager expression made her heart settle. She managed an only slightly forced laugh as she scraped the ruined clay off the wheel. “It actually happens more often than you’d think, I’ll have to get fresh clay- this is too wet to use again.” 

Dropping the old clay into the bucket of water beside the wheel, she reached for another piece of clay. “Oh, and before you even start, you have to make sure that you wedge the clay—like kneading—to get the air bubbles out, otherwise the clay can explode in the kiln. I prepped a bunch before setting up at the wheel so I don’t constantly have to get up every time I…” 

Sheesh, Civilian, do you ever stop to breathe? 

The dismissive voice was only an echo in her mind, but it was enough that she cut off the stream of facts she’d been about to share and lifted her hands from the clay and her foot from the pedal. “I’m sorry, I got too excited and—”

Villain scooted his stool closer, close enough to reach out and touch, and the rest of her apology faded into the air between them. His voice was low as he asked, “Is that what that miserable cow would tell you?” 

“What?” 

“Is that what your ex would tell you?” The muscles in his jaw clenched, and he all but spat out his next words. “That you got ‘too excited?’” She would have been afraid, had it not been so clear his anger was not at her, but for her. 

Ex’s actual words had been ‘like an excitable little puppy,’ but she was going to tell Villain that. 

Apparently her face was easy enough to read though, because Villain’s expression turned violent. 

“He’s not a bad guy,” she rushed to say. 

She’d loved him, after all. 

Villain shook his head before he stilled, staring at her with those piercing eyes that seemed to see every disdainful remark Ex had ever thrown at her. “You really believe that.” 

Civilian shifted under Villain’s scrutiny, trying to remember the good days, the reasons she’d let him put a ring on her finger. He hadn’t been a bad egg. But. He just maybe wasn’t a good one either.

Villain leaned closer, extending his hand to her, palm up, an invitation. Despite the clay on her hands, she found herself sliding her fingers into his. Then she wondered why, after what he’d done, the motion felt more natural than it ever had with Ex. 

After the cool clay, his hand felt like holding a warm mug of cocoa. His eyes blazed, and his intensity sparked a fluttering of attraction in her chest. 

“Your passion is not a burden to be borne.” 

The words landed on her heart and slowly sank in, washing away every critical remark, every doubtful judgement. 

Why don’t you choose a more steady career path?

Your doodles are sweet, Civilian, but…

Your father and I won’t waste our money on an education that will only leave you begging on the street.

Let us know when you’ve come to your senses.

Are you sure you don’t want to switch now? Our life together will be much more stable if we have two steady incomes.

Civilian blinked, letting Villain’s words heal something inside her, until he abruptly dropped his hand and scooted away. 

All her life, she’d been told her art was nothing more than a pointless detour. Now Villain sat before her, entirely captivated by the process. 

His genuine interest made her eyes suspiciously blurry, but she wet her hands and started the wheel turning. Her hands slipped on the clay as she glanced at Villain out of the corner of her eye, but his gentle smile brought a warm fluttering to her chest that made it easier to continue her explanation as her hands began to center the soft clay.

Civilian was busy explaining the purpose of waiting to trim until a pot was leather dry when she slowed the wheel and finally paid attention to the clay beneath her fingers. 

It was a decent looking pot, at first glance. Instantly her mind went searching for flaws. Was the lip too thin, the curve of the base too wide? 

“It’s incredible.” Villain’s awed voice broke through the deluge of self-doubts. 

“It’s not perfect, but--” 

“Ok, you can stop right there.” 

Villain’s easy smile was gone. “You are about to critique each and every last aspect of what you just made--MADE--with your own hands, and you haven’t even stopped to realize that you. made. that.” 

Civilian didn’t realize she was gaping until Villain’s eyes moved to her lips. She snapped her mouth closed, then cleared her throat as she licked her lips. 

“Yes, well…” Her hands fluttered, wet drops of clay-water splattering her clothes. 

“Just look at it like you’re seeing it through museum glass.” His voice was soft again, coaxing. 

Looking back at the pot, she tried to imagine it like Villain said, an ancient work set on display. The fat base curved upwards into a narrow neck before widening into the lip. And he was right. 

It was incredible. 

“You made that.” 

Civilian let out a little laugh. “I did.” 

“You know,” Villain mused, “the proportions are almost identical to this Chinese vase I stole last year.” 

Her head shot up. He knew pottery? 

Villain grinned, voice heavy with exaggerated arrogance. “It was from the Han Dynasty.” 

A laugh sputtered from her lips. “Riiiiight. You almost had me for a minute there.”

Villain just kept smiling, though now it was a little smug. 

She cocked her head to the side as she stared him down. “No.” 

He shrugged nonchalantly, and she barely resisted the urge to flick clay-water at him. “You did not just make me word vomit pottery 101 at you only to reveal that you are an expert!” 

That blasted grin was still on those wicked lips. “It was quite fascinating to hear your explanations.” 

Villain blinked as the gray water splattered his face, catching on his eyelashes and dripping down his chin.

Civilian froze, waiting for his reaction. Then Villain tipped back his head and laughed. It was deep and full of genuine amusement. 

When he straightened, laughter still creased his eyes. “I’m sorry, Civilian, but I couldn’t resist.” 

Before she could sink into the mortification of explaining basic ceramics to an expert, Villain spoke again. “If it makes you feel any better, I truly knew little of how they were made; I just happen to know what makes a good one.” 

“So you’re an art expert?” 

This time his shrug was more genuine. “I deal mostly with jewels, but I know enough about the various art forms to know what makes them valuable.” 

“Valuable enough to steal?” Civilian ventured. 

He tipped his head in acknowledgement. 

This time, she was the one who leaned forward. “Would you tell me about it?

Shoutout to @im-a-wonderling for both bribing me to write this and staying up late to beta-read. Y’all can thank her that it’s more than 500 words of a hot mess :) 

Taglist: 

@im-a-wonderling @shieldmaiden-of-gondor @watercolorfreckles @distance-does-not-matter @onestopheroxvillain @lolafaiy @chaoticgoodandi @1becky1 @tobeornottobeateacher @himynameisorla @superherosweet @brekker-by-brekkerr @crazytwentythrees @great-day-today @sunflower1000@selectivegeekwithstandards @chibicelloking @trantolette @sapphiques @jinpanman @genesissane @wish1bone1 @amongtheonedaisy @distractedlydistracted @kitsunesakii @glitterythief @jinx1365 @cherrychewingbrat @in-patient-princess @thepenultimateword @sorrow-and-bliss @technikerin23 @deflated-bouncingball 

@world-of-fire-and-flight @imsotiredcanipleasegetabreak 

lmk if you want to be added or taken off:) 

[brandstifter-sys]

The Great Bitchin Bake-Off

Chapter 3: You Got Buns Hun (Ao3)

Word Count: 2563

Rating: T

Characters: Roman, Remus, Patton, Janus, Virgil

Warnings: Innuendo, food, gore, fainting, background moceit, background dukexiety

Roman and Remus have no internet, no cookbooks, and they have to make breakfast for everyone in the mindscape. Rather than work together, the creativitwins just have to make it a competition, if only so there's something edible in the end.

--

Roman rose up into the dining room holding two covered platters. He loathed that he couldn't simply conjure perfectly cooked food because it wasn't as nutritious as home cooked. He would much rather save time and energy, but no, only Virgil and Remus were fine with conjured meals! At least he could cook decent food on his own, and he would have bragging rights later. 

He was more confident with the security of those bragging rights than the security of the ones regarding his baking. He couldn’t smell anything burning as he made his way to the kitchen, which was a relief. In fact, he was assaulted with the pleasant aroma of cinnamon. 

Roman entered the kitchen, unsurprised to find that it was still a mess of flour, sugar, eggs, and blood. He never expected Remus to actually clean, so the lack of dirty dishes was a shock. Of course he was also surprised to see that Remus put all of the cinnamon rolls on two platters. 

“You close!? You close!?” 

The mentioned gremlin was stirring up the glaze he made with a spatula, hugging the bowl to his chest and going feral. 

“You close?! You bad bad boy! You close?!” Remus said with wild eyes as he continued to mix. 

“Unfortunately, too close,” Roman said and crossed his arms. At least Remus immediately stopped his tirade. 

“Just in time!” he giggled, “I burnt my fingies getting the rolls out of the pans! They just need a sugar bukkake and they’ll be ready to eat!” 

Roman let out a long sigh and rolled his eyes. He would only have to endure this for a little longer. Instead of letting Remus get under his skin, he decided to examine the baked goods. 

His rolls were golden-brown and they puffed up beautifully. He could see the cinnamon and cream cheese peeking through the spirals. They were gorgeous, and he was satisfied with them. He was certain his were better than Remus’ rolls. 

Remus didn’t really give him a chance to compare directly. He poured about half of the glaze over the red rolls with a lewd moan, just to be a little shit. It certainly looked erotic enough to warrant a little noise. It wasn’t like he was doing anything unsavory to the dish! 

“Do you have any chill?” Roman pouted. 

“Me?” Remus laughed and handed him the bowl and spatula, “As if you have to ask!” 

Roman took the bowl and examined its contents. It was a simple glaze with nothing obviously wrong with it. If there were something awry, Roman could blame his brother. 

Remus seemed to be quite pleased himself. Roman could understand why, he had something that looked like cinnamon rolls despite the glaring sanguine issue. He was wiping off the edges of his platter with a paper towel, as if he had something worth presenting. 

“Well, we're all done! May the best duke win!” Remus chirped and picked up his platter. Roman scoffed at his confidence, but remembered that technically he was also a duke, and Remus was technically a prince. Clearly Remus wanted to get under his skin, by either assuming the winner or reminding Roman that they were equally ranked. 

Remus wiggled his hips and skipped out of the kitchen. It was amazing that he still had so much energy after such a long night. Roman considered the distance a blessing as he added the finishing touch to his dish. 

He was rather impressed by the glaze. It was so smooth as it fell over his pastries like a waterfall. It sent a dark chill up his spine to think that Remus had any culinary prowess. Even so, Roman's rolls were gorgeous and they were going to be a hit. 

Roman set the empty bowl aside and picked up his platter. Unlike Remus, he had no need to wipe up any excess glaze because he took care and pride in his presentation. 

He carried his cinnamon rolls into the dining room and set them next to Remus’ platter. He stood by Remus and tried not to cringe as his brother squirmed. And not a moment too soon! 

Janus and Patton rose up, tired but anticipating a delicious meal. It would have been adorable to see the two of them leaning against each other in their mismatched bathrobes, clearly hinting that they were cuddling before and accidentally grabbed the other’s robe before leaving. 

It would have been adorable if Patton were with anyone other than Janus. At least that was Roman's opinion. Remus would say that they should just bone instead of acting all domestic and sappy. 

“Ooh!” Patton cooed when he looked at the table, “Cinnamon buns! They're so cute! But why are there two plates?” 

“Because one is edible and one is not,” Roman said proudly and gestured to his plate. 

“What he means is, we both made our own batches since we couldn't find a recipe,” Remus butted in. Janus stared at him and then at Roman and shuddered. Baking was more of a science than an art project, and doing so without a recipe was a disaster waiting to happen. 

Patton was a little concerned but the sweet scent filling his nose was soothing his worries. But not all of them.

“Why are yours red, Remus?” he asked and pointed to the rolls in question. 

“I had to use blood!” Remus beamed. He chose to ignore the wide-eyed distress that took over Patton's face. 

“He's just trying to gross you out, Patton,” Janus said softly and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. At the same time he was glaring daggers at the twins, daring them to contradict him. 

“He is?” Patton pouted. 

“Of course not!” Remus huffed, “They're red because I had to use blood. Blood! Gallons of the stuff!” He would not let Janus stifle his creative flow!

“Roman?” Patton whimpered and clung to Janus, hoping that the prince would deny Remus' claims. 

“It's too early for this,” a cold, groggy voice said from behind the stressed father-figure. 

Patton yelped and jolted, slamming into Janus. 

“Virgil!” 

Virgil tilted his chin at Patton and eyed the table. The covered platters were probably just boring breakfast food, but the cinnamon rolls caught his attention.

“Who made breakfast?” he asked and shoved his fist in his mouth to hide a yawn. 

“Roman,” Janus said, getting Virgil’s eyebrows to rise towards his hairline, “and Remus.” 

Roman was almost offended when Virgil relaxed at the mention of his brother. 

“So why is Patton freaking out?” 

“Remus said there's blood in his!” Patton whimpered, trying to appear calm, and failing. Virgil glanced at Janus and their eyes met. Remus wasn't lying. 

“Yeah, he's just saying that so you don't eat them all,” Virgil shrugged and grabbed one of the bloody cinnamon rolls, “He tried this kind of stuff with me before.” 

“What do you mean he's tried this before?” Patton questioned as Virgil took a large bite out of the roll. Roman was unsettled as the roll sank from the pressure only to spring back up, as if it were light and fluffy. Remus was basking in the glow of somewhat positive attention. 

“Simply that Remus bakes far too frequently for anyone's relationship with a scale,” Janus said, “He's tried to trick Virgil into not devouring an entire batch of pastries on several occasions.” 

Roman’s heart dropped. He was a novice and he willingly entered a contest with a professional level baker. He could practically hear the gloating Remus would spew. 

Remus, on the other hand, was too busy watching Virgil chew. He hated not having a recipe to follow and he wanted to know if he managed to make something close to his usual quality. 

Virgil swallowed and pouted at Remus, as if he were disappointed. Remus was ready to assume the worst. 

“There's no blood in these. You can eat them, Pat,” Virgil said and set the half-eaten bun on a napkin. 

“There's not?” Patton squeaked hopefully. 

“Nope. I can't taste any blood. It's just a good cinnamon roll,” Virgil shrugged and grabbed one of Roman's rolls. 

“You think they're good?” Remus gasped with an infectious grin. 

“Yeah. And I'm guessing you decided to be idiots and turn this into a competition,” he said and took a large bite out of Roman's roll. 

Roman held his breath as Virgil chewed. But after only a short moment, he started coughing and fumbled for a napkin. 

“Virgil!” Patton gasped as Virgil spit out the partly chewed roll into a napkin. He was still coughing to the point his eyes were tearing up.

“Water—” he managed to choke out between coughs. Patton immediately ran to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. 

“How—how much—” Virgil tried to ask between coughs. 

“How much cinnamon did you use?” Janus asked, saving Virgil some trouble. Roman was mortified. How could this get any worse?

EEEEEK!

Thud 

“Patton!” Janus yelped and ran to the kitchen. Virgil and Roman followed him while Remus casually picked up one of Roman's rolls and started eating it. 

Oh yeah that was a lot of cinnamon! No wonder Virgil was coughing up a lung! 

“Remus!” Janus shouted. Oh no he was angry! It was best not to keep him waiting. 

Remus skipped into the kitchen to find Roman and Janus kneeling by an unconscious Patton. The kitchen was a mess and there was blood on the floor, so that was expected. Virgil was by the sink drinking something to ease his cough. 

“I will be taking Patton to his room, and we will eat there once he comes to,” Janus hissed, “You and Roman are going to scrub this kitchen spotless. If I come back and you aren't cleaning or if this room is a mess, I will take action. Do you understand me?” 

“Yeah, yeah, clean up,” Remus brushed him off, “Whatever you say, Mom.” 

Janus rolled his eyes and looked at Roman. The prince was distraught but he would clean with Remus no matter how much he resisted. 

“Virgil, make sure these two actually clean up,” he added. Virgil gave him a thumbs up, which was all he needed to sink out with Patton. Roman was left, staring at the floor and wallowing in his own misery.

That's when Remus realized what Virgil chose to drink in his little coughing fit—his clarified pig blood! 

“Virgil! That took me forever to make!” he whined. Virgil put the empty jug down and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. 

“Yeah? Well I would’ve gone for my tea, except it’s gone,” Virgil retorted and leaned against the counter, “Now why is that?”

Remus giggled sheepishly and rubbed his neck. It was a drastic enough estrangement from the norm to snap Roman out of his internal lament. Was his brother acting like a shy schoolgirl on purpose, or was it just another act? 

“I drinked it. It was really good!” 

“Are you trying to distract me so you don’t have to clean?” 

“Nope! If anything, you’re distracting me! There’s just something so hot about a man who can encourage all complete cooperation!” Remus teased and fluttered his lashes. Virgil snorted and shook his head. 

“No flirting until you’re finished here. Go get some bleach.” 

Remus saluted him and disappeared. He would have cleaned up anyway, but with the promise of a teasing spider, he was all the more motivated. 

Roman got to his feet and went to the sink. He could clean the countertops at the very least. He was feeling a lot more like Cinderella than before. 

“Why didn't you tell me?” Roman asked Virgil as he grabbed a sponge. 

“Tell you what?” 

“That Remus has experience baking!” he groaned. 

“I thought you knew, and you didn't exactly ask,” Virgil shrugged, “But now you feel like an idiot.” 

“Of course I do!” Roman whined and pressed his wrist to his forehead, “I'm ruined! Humiliated! A laughing stock! I am a fool! The king of fools!” 

“Right,” Virgil droned and clicked his tongue, “You know it's my job to overthink things. You're embarrassed and an idiot—” he paused so Roman could sputter, “—but you aren't the biggest fool in the world.” 

“I'm back!” Remus sang as he reappeared, right on time. He had a bucket of bleach water and his rubber gloves, but he chose to wear the single skimpiest maid dress that barely covered him. His shoulders were exposed as were most of his legs. To add insult to injury, he had fishnet thigh-highs and chunky platform heels, plus a frilly white bonnet clipped to his hair. 

“Yeah,” Virgil said to Roman, “You're not the biggest fool in the world.” 

Remus giggled and skipped over to the blood splatter, getting on his knees to scrub. He was going to clean up so good that no one would ever know about Roman’s little oopsie! 

“I'll be right back,” Virgil grunted and left the kitchen. Roman wished he would have stayed, if only so he wouldn't have to deal with the festering embarrassment and Remus by himself. 

He got busy wiping down the counters, praying for an awkward silence. He might have needed to pray to something other than Disney.

“We should totally do this again!” Remus mused as he pulled a scrub brush from his bucket. 

“What?” 

“We should bake together again!” Remus clarified, “It was fun!” 

“Fun?” Roman scoffed, “Of course you had fun—you got to mock me and show everyone that I am less than capable!” 

“I had fun spending time with you. I would have had fun even without a competition,” Remus pouted, “I had to beg Specs to put us together on his schedule with benefits.” 

“You pushed for this?” 

“Yeah! I wanted to hang out with my prissy little brother. Believe it or not, I actually like you. I only try to crush your skull when I think you'll kill me. That's why I begged to get baking time with you—so I wouldn't give in to those thoughts.” 

“Perhaps we could do this again, and work together next time,” Roman ceded and continued to clean, “If they let us near the kitchen together again.”

Remus squeaked and immediately fell to his hands. He started scrubbing the floor roughly, grunting with the effort he was using to get the grout between the tiles. He would make this kitchen spotless if it meant he could bond with his brother again! 

Roman ignored the grunting in favor of getting wrapped up in his own thoughts. Remus didn’t gloat, he didn’t put Roman down, he just wanted quality brother time. He didn’t do anything to hinder Roman when baking, in fact he seemed to have tried to help inconspicuously. Maybe Remus wasn’t evil. He was crass and lewd and obnoxious, but he wasn’t so bad. 

Virgil returned holding the plate of red cinnamon rolls, casually eating them with the intent to finish them. He saw Remus on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor and grunting. He was so glad Remus was wearing underwear. 

He walked up to Remus and nudged him with his foot, getting the duke to pause and look up at him. 

“You close?” Virgil droned, fighting back a smirk. 

“Yeah, I’m a bad bad boy!” Remus laughed, “You close?” 

Roman sighed to himself and shook his head. Remus wasn’t so bad, most of the time.

--

(1)(2)

[smolcinnamonchipmunk]

I like the both the prompts “Hey, can I- Can I eat you? I, uh, you’d just- feel really good in there, I think, and um… Jeez, I’m sorry, you just look so tasty…” and “Your stomach can wait its dang turn.” !

(Finally able to make something for this request from a while ago! I feel so rusty at writing rn, Jesus. Glossed over the early on bickering because I didn’t feel like writing a lot of dialogue and just wanted to get into it. Honestly, trying to write the argument was delaying me for a few days before I scrapped it ;-;

But, here it is! I hope it’s up to snuff despite taking a couple weeks and being shorter than most with another rushed end. I hope to have the beach episode done by the end of Saturday, but we’ll see. :P) TW/CW: Soft, safe, NONSEXUAL, m/nb g/t oral vore; kind of foodplay?? (It’s crepe filling, so not exactly food) Count: 2426 “Hey, can I- Can I eat you? I, uh, you’d just- feel really good in there, I think, and um… Jeez, I’m sorry, you just look so tasty…” I paused what I was doing, tapping the whisk I was using against the side of the bowl so that it wouldn’t drip as I turned around to face the ginger demon that was practically drooling on my shoulder. “Beel. Honey,” I said in the tone of mild sweetness over barely restrained irritation as I looked up into his eyes. Which were a bit too glazed over and focused on me for my liking. Simultaneously reaching across the pact to magically give him a tug and lifting my empty hand up to snap and catch his attention both ways, his eyes blinked into focus and I took the opportunity to say, “I’m busy making dinner and dessert right now, and not only will the others not appreciate you eating me in the middle of doing so, I’m also hungry and tired and REALLY want my fucking strawberry crepes. So, your stomach can wait it's damn turn until after dinner, capeesh?” “But, Kaaaat,” Beel’s eyes widened as he begged, reminiscent of a dog begging for a treat.

But, I was too used to this and gave him an unimpressed look, gesturing to the kitchen with the whisk and commanding, “Go sit down and WAIT, Beel.” He whined but reluctantly walked out of the kitchen with the help of some nudging from the pact. I sighed to settle my irritation at being interrupted and turned around to continue cooking dinner. ………………. Dinner was, thankfully, uneventful in the way of arguments between the brothers. Not because they didn’t have anything to argue about, but more because I feel like they could sense my rising irritation anytime voices started raising, mentally tightening the hold on the pacts with the brothers in preparation. Today was just not a day that I had the patience for much bickering. Of course, bickering was inevitable when I got up to put my dishes in the sink and Beel kindly tried to remind me about my ‘promise’. And by remind, I mean a whine that made me sigh with the knowledge of the inevitable onslaught of argument from the other brothers about eating me.

“That’s not fair! I haven’t been able to eat Kat in over a week,” Levi complained, like the Avatar of Envy he was. I groaned and rubbed my temple with my free hand, breathing in and counting like Barbatos and Simeon had suggested. Apparently I could rival Satan on my bad days with my moods. I decided to leave the brothers to fight, knowing that any damages would be something for THEM to deal with, not me. As I walked to the sink and placed my dishes in, I tried to avoid a loud clatter. Humming in mild smugness at the ‘Whoever cooks doesn’t clean’ policy, I walked up to the fridge and took out the small tupperware of crepe cream and strawberries I’d set aside for myself. There were more extras, but this one was for me before Beel could get to the leftovers. Popping over the two little tupperware containers, I got a clean fork and stabbed a strawberry, dipping it in the creme and eating it. “Kat?” I made a noise of curious acknowledgement, looking towards the kitchen entrance with fork still in my mouth, seeing Beel walk in. Knowing exactly what he wanted, I made a disgruntled noise at probably not being able to finish my strawberries and pulled the fork out, saying, “Hey, Beel.” “Can I eat you now,” he asked, placing his own dishes in the sink. Like usual, there were several plates and utensils. “Can I finish my strawberries,” I replied, frowning a bit at his tower of dinnerware. “And you just ate. You know I don’t like being in any of you when there’s food.” The demon let out a whine and placed a hand over his stomach. He looked so dejected that I couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for his ever-present hunger. Everyone did say that I gave into the brothers' whims a bit too easily a lot. “Okaaay. Mira.” With a grumpy growl, I cleared my throat from the sticky sweetness of my treat and leaned on the counter. Once Beel gave me his attention, I added, “We can watch a movie or something so that I can finish my strawberries and your stomach can empty, and you can eat me for tonight.” “Really?” Beel’s eyes lit up as he looked at me, able to see drool at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, really. But no going for a run in the morning with me inside,” I grimaced at the thought, very much not wanting to be woken up by being violently jostled. “When you wake up, let me out so I can shower and pass back out.” “Of course,” the demon nodded seriously, taking the instruction seriously since I can, and have, used the pact to make him stop his morning runs while eaten. “Alright then, let’s go.” I closed and grabbed my two tupperware containers and followed Beel to his room. There was still a bit of arguing from the dining room, but I’m pretty sure it’d been long enough that the topic had changed from who should probably get to eat me next. Just the usual brotherly bickering of raised voices and name calling probably. Belphie wasn’t in the room when Beel and I entered, either still in the argument with his brothers or gone to catnap somewhere, so I didn’t hesitate to flop down on the purple comforter while Beel started up the TV. “Do you have any movie in mind?” He asked, catching my attention. I shook my head, sitting up and carefully setting my small tupperware aside to look at the ginger demon. Humming a bit, I said, “You can pick whatever you want. Wasn’t there some movie that came out that you wanted to watch?”

“Oh yeah. That new horror movie that came out. Are you sure though? I thought you didn’t like horror movies.”

“I mean, not really, but I’m probably not even watching the whole thing,” I replied, feeling like we’d probably get into about thirty minutes max before he ate me. “I’m just here to chill and eat my strawberries before you eat me.”

“Fair,” Beel’s eyes glossed over a bit at the thought and he shook himself from his fantasizing to look at the movies on the shelf. After a couple seconds of searching, he pulled out the movie he wanted and put it in, patting his bed once he sat down.

I moved over from Belphie’s bed to his to sit in front of him while we started watching the movie. Sitting cross legged in front of him, I carefully ate my strawberries and creme while he rested his head on top of mine, arms loosely wrapped around my middle.

The movie was something about people in mirrors being able to kill their real life counterparts, at least from the looks of the first few minutes. Then it moved onto some family who would probably inevitably have to face their mirror selves and likely not die because they were the main characters, and no movie I’d seen had the balls to kill off children on screen. That one side chick was totally going to die somehow though, I could feel it.

I didn’t get to see it though because once my strawberries were all gone and we’d watched maybe twenty minutes of the movie, Beel’s stomach loudly growled behind me, causing me to jolt. I’d honestly gotten too absorbed in the movie to remember why we were watching it in the first place.

“Can I eat you now, Kat?” Beel whined, arms tightening around my abdomen as he sort of hugged me to himself like a living teddy bear to try and ignore the hunger pangs.

“Tch, yeah, you can eat me,” I snorted in amusement, reaching up to pat him. I was still a bit annoyed, but felt a lot better than when he’d interrupted me while cooking. Besides, I couldn’t help but feel a bit endeared as I felt him lean into my hand.

“Can I use the crepe stuff?”

“Ehhh,” I glanced at the currently closed tupperware, not really feeling like being drizzled in the stuff. But, I was going to end up soaked by saliva and eaten anyways, so I supposed it didn’t really matter. “Fine. Just try not to make a mess everywhere.”

“Thanks, Kat,” the demon purred, something that rumbled in his chest and I could feel it against my back as he hugged me closer briefly. Without any hesitation, he began to recite the protection and shrinking spells, causing me to shudder at the feeling of magic coursing through me.

A familiar sense of vertigo washed over me and I tried to shake it off on instinct as I was quickly shrunk down to half a foot tall on the bed, finding myself carefully scooped up by Beel.

“You doing alright?” he asked on routine, though he was already licking his lips in anticipation. Still, he was restrained enough to allow me a response.

“Yeah, I’m good. You’re set to go ahead.” I nodded up at him, still finding myself easily overwhelmed by the brothers size when I shrunk. I wasn’t scared like I used to be, but there was still something daunting going from normal size to almost handheld in mere moments, and I could never quite get used to it.

Being given permission to continue, Beel looked as excited as a Golden Retriever that found a treat, replying, “Let me know if I hurt you or anything.”

“Will do.”

Beel excitedly glanced down at the two tupperware containers and obviously thought about how to utilize the crepe cream without spilling it all over his sheets. He decided to place me down while popping both plasticware open and then scooped me up to deposit me in the container that had had the strawberries.

“Ugh, I’m already looking forward to a shower,” I grumbled at feeling the residual strawberry juice soak into my shoes and socks with the knowledge that I was only about to get stickier.

“Sorry, Kat.” Beel apologized as he picked up the crepe filling container, pausing as he glanced at it, warring with his guilt and innate desire to use it.

“It’s fine,” I waved off his apology, adding, “I already said it was okay, and I’d be showering afterwards anyways.”

He hesitated only a second before nodding and starting to tip the other container above me.

I braced myself as much as I could for it, tensing and unable to keep my mind from going to the comparison of one of those slime dump videos from the Human Realm. But, I still wasn’t prepared for the chilled sensation as it was drizzled on top of me, making me yelp in surprise. After a few seconds, the entire container had been dumped on me and I was left raising my arms with a grimace, covered in crepe filling that dripped off my arms and body.

“You ready, Kat,” Beel asked, carefully plucking me out of the tupperware, three fingers to my back and thumb against my chest.

“Ready as usual. And the more we wait, the stickier I’ll be,” I stuck my tongue out in distaste, feeling like I could already feel the sugary liquid drying on my skin and clothes. But, maybe that was just my immense dislike for anything sticky against me.

“I’ll be quick.” Beel purred, licking his lips again before raising me up to his mouth.

I made a small noise as he licked my front from chest up, his tongue taking a good chunk of the crepe filling with it and replacing it with warm saliva that contrasted the still kind of chilled cream.

“Mmm, you taste really good,” the demon said. Despite him saying similar stuff everytime, my face still heated a bit with embarrassment, still unsure how to feel about the ‘compliments’.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled, trying to ignore the redness at the tips of my ears.

Thankfully, Beel never really cared about whether or not I got flustered, so he didn’t tease as he opened his jaws and shoved my upper body into his mouth.

Carefully clamping his teeth around my middle, everything around me rumbled from his purring. He didn’t waste any time as he immediately started tasting me, sucking and licking the crepe filling off of me. The eager tasting probably only lasted seconds, but I was still left gasping for air when he paused to swallow the excess saliva that had pooled in his mouth, using my arms to press away from his tongue and try to allow me more breathing room.

Gluttonous as he was, the reprieve was brief and I found his teeth splitting apart slightly to shove more of me inside.

“Beel!” I couldn’t help but exclaim a bit as I was quickly forced further into his jaws, my arms slipping over the precipice at the back of his tongue. A loud swallow made my ears pop, drawing me into his throat. Several greedy swallows followed, each as noisy as the last.

It was obviously pretty constrictive in his throat, but it definitely had more give than his brothers, something I was thankful for with his habit of eating me at larger sizes than the others. I could feel him place a hand against me from the outside of his throat as I was worked down past his collarbone, where he sighed in satisfaction and purred even louder, rattling me to my bones.

I could feel him hunch a bit forward as I slipped past his heart and lungs into his stomach, knowing that he was doing his best to feel me even more.

“Are you okay, Kat?” Beel asked, voice laced with satisfied bliss at having his hunger sated.

“Yup, fine,” I called back up, pushing myself to a sitting position. I shook off the small daze that naturally came with being eaten, let alone eaten upside-down. Huffing a bit from the trip down, I stretched and asked, “You feeling better.”

“Always, with you inside,” the demon purred.

“Well, I’m glad to help your hunger pangs, but don’t forget to let me out in the morning before your run,” I yawned, already not looking forward to being woken so early.

“I won’t.”

[soulofapatrick]

Finding Tommy - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary; The escape from the Hunters doesn't have a happy ending but Joel gets some solace after months in the snow

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: ptsd

Y/N’s POV

Waking to screaming is something I never, ever want to experience again. The way Ellie’s crying and sobbing, mine and Joel’s names falling from her lips. I’m on my feet in seconds seeing Sam on top of Ellie, hands scratching and snarling as he tries to bite Ellie but she’s fighting him off, they’ve toppled to the floor. A gunshot aimed at my feet stops me from getting to her but I’m so sick and tired of being scared so I take another step forwards while Joel hisses my name when Henry turns the gun to my head. This one definitely loaded. 

“No! That’s my brother man!” Henry cries but Ellie’s screaming is all I can hear, so I’m taking another step towards the kids. The next gunshot rings in my ears, causing me to stumble and fall to the right but it wasn’t aimed at me, it was shot from next to me. Sam’s on the floor with blood beginning to pool by his feet and the tears burn my eyes but I’m scrambling to Ellie, pulling her to my chest as she cries, “What did I do? What did… What did I do?” 

“Henry,” Joel speaks softly. 

“That was my brother. This is all your fault! All your fault!” Henry’s yelling, gun waving around until his eyes seem to settle on it. He’s staring at it in his hand and I know exactly where this is going to go, it’s the same look Elliott had on his face before he…

“Henry, don’t.” The ‘don’t’ comes out barely audible but it’s too late, the gun is pressed to his temple and then his brains are on the wall. Ellie’s letting out a broken sound and burying her face in my chest while all I can do is stare at Henry’s body but it’s not Henry’s body anymore… it’s Elliott’s. Oh god, I let him down again. Elliott dies again because of my inability to stop him putting the gun to his head. The glazed look in his eyes as he fell haunts me every time I sleep and I did it again. Failed again. Again. 

My name is being called but all I can hear is the ringing in my ears and my heart pounding in my chest. My hands shake as I begin to crawl towards Elliott, screaming and struggling when arms wrap around me as I cry for my brother. He’s so close but I can’t reach him, he’s fading as my vision seems to be through a fish-eye lens and my chest tightens, a choking feeling in my throat. I can see him right there but… my vision is blurring more and I’m gripping the arms holding me, feeling like I’m floating. 

*

No one brought up Sam and Henry again as we trudged on through the winter, burying them before we left. It broke my heart and Joel held me as I cried but that was it. The last three months went of with little to no excitement or surprises as we made our way to Wyoming. Joel and I hadn’t spoken about the kiss since but he was always within arms reach of me, it just wasn’t the same since the panic attack. Ellie had asked me who Elliott was once we had started walking after burying Sam and Henry but I just ignored her. I wasn’t ready. I could never be ready. 

The later autumn turned to winter and it got colder and colder, our outfits not doing enough to keep us warm from the biting air and Joel’s been glaring at me for the last hour as I gave Ellie my jacket to make sure she didn’t get a cold. 

Lucky for us a cabin appeared and we all seemed to know we had no choice but to ask for help as we were lost. Inside was an elderly woman, rocking herself in her obviously hand carved rocking chair, the warmth inside the small cottage chasing away the chill settling in my bones. She greeted us, in no way afraid, introducing herself as Florence and letting us know her husband would be back soon as he’s out hunting. She got up from her seat and began pouring three bowls of soup while Joel had his gun raised so I stamp on his foot and snatch the gun from him. 

“Hey! W-“

“She’s feeding us dumbass.” 

“Don’t call me a dumbass.” He grumbles back with no venom as he takes the bowl of soup from Florence. Ellie practically singing praises and fuck she’s right this is fucking good. It warms me to the core and I feel like I can relax again after months of being on edge, of being haunted by memories I’ve wanted to push down and forget and the lack of anything from Joel. This makes me feel like I’m at home on a cold day, surrounded by family and friends and like nothing could ever hurt me again. Of course it’s shattered when Florence lets us know that her husband - Marlon - wouldn’t be too happy with us being in his house and Joel reaches for his gun that I’d slipped into my waistband but I’m faster, slapping his hand away and fixing him with a defiant glare. He sighs in defeat, putting his empty bowl down and pulling the map from his pocket. 

Before he can ask Florence to show me where he is the door is opening and Joel’s shoving Ellie upstairs while I just stand, rolling my eyes at how defensive Joel is despite this couple being seemingly harmless and extremely friendly. I guess they don’t get a lot of people while bing in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. Marlon just stares at me and Joel and I wonder why he’s so weary, we’re unarmed currently. Oh wait, no… no, Joel’s got my gun now. He must have pulled it from my pack when we stood up. I send him a scowl and he ignores me but I know he sees the look, instead, he’s watching Marlon put the bow and quiver of arrows resting by the door. He’s casually unzipping his jacket as if he’s not being held at gun point, grunting in acknowledgement when Joel snaps, “And the gun, two fingers on the table, out of reach.” 

“Who are you?” Marlon asks, Joel trying to move forwards but I step in front of him so his chest collides with my back and he lets out a frustrated growl in my direction before directing his attention back to Marlon who is just eyeing us. 

“Just someone passing through.” 

“Why didn’t you shoot them?” Marlon’s turned to Florence who’s retaken her spot in her rocking chair. She just nods towards the other side of the room telling him the gun is all the way over there and I’m snorting a little with laughter, especially when Marlon notices the empty soup bowls, “You made them soup?”

“It’s cold out.” Florence retorts and I glance back at Joel, taking a risky pull at my gun but he pries my hand off it without even looking at me. 

“I’m looking for my brother.” Joel tells them, gripping both my wrists behind my back with the hand that’s not holding the gun to stop me trying to take it off of him. 

“Well, I haven’t seen him.” Marlon sits down in his armchair, not phased by the gun. 

“I haven’t told you what he looks like.” 

“He look anything like you?” 

“A bit.” 

“Haven’t seen him.” 

I’m biting my lip, Joel getting more and more exasperated and it’s just really fucking funny. Joel’s still holding his gun towards Marlon as if they’re really a threat but I guess the role of protector is ingrained into him very bloodstream now. 

“They’ve got a daughter with them,” Florence tells Marlon and I step on Joel’s foot before he can retort and Ellie’s running down the stairs while asking if she can come down, adding to Joel’s exasperation and my amusement so I wriggle my wrists out of Joel’s grip, tapping the map lightly. 

“Can you tell us where we are?” 

“If you got a map, why you lost?” Marlon’s lips are upturning in equal amusement and of course, Ellie’s quick bout beats me to replying. 

“Must’ve missed all the street signs in the enormous fucking forest.”

“Ho-ly” Marlon whistles, Florence chuckling along as I send Ellie a stern look that has her rolling her eyes at me. To my surprise Marlon leans forwards and points at the map before speaking again, “I didn’t mean to annoy you with your brother but you’ve come this far so you’ve Cody” I just shiver at the thought of Cody when we passed through, the whole town crawling with infected. The whole place got infected, no one making it out unscathed. 

“Any advice on the best way west?” Joel asks, seemingly less of edge and gun now lowered but the safety is still off so he’s not completely comfortable. I’ll take what I can take, I guess. 

“Yeah. Go east. Never go past the river. Death is there. We never see who’s out there but the bodies are always there. If your brother is west of the river, he’s gone.” The mood shifts and Joel’s hand tightens on his gun, I pick up the map and a broad hand touches my lower back. There it is again, the protectiveness and fear I’ll disappear or I’m guessing he’s scared I’ll become one of these so called bodies but I won’t. His hand is flat and warm even through the two layers of fabric and the fear is palpable but he tries not to let it affect him. A man off little emotions yet I can read him like a damn book. He’s pressing my back, to urge me forwards so I say my thanks and goodbyes before stepping back into the freezing wind and deep snow. 

“Put that back.” Joel scolds Ellie as she grabs one of the two dead rabbits Marlon caught but she doesn’t listen, slinging it over her shoulder as we make out way back up the embankment. Something’s wrong. Joel’s leaning against the fence, hand to his chest and his breath coming out in short puff, honey eyes slipping shut. Ellie opens her mouth to speak but I put her hand on her shoulder to stop her, moving closer to the man knowing exactly what is happening. He’s having a panic attack and I’m slipping myself between him and the fence, forcing him to press his hand over my heart so he can feel it beating, like he did with me before. It seems to work as his breathing evens out and he’s letting his head fall onto my shoulder for a moment, the ghost his chapped lips making my skin burn and me shiver. The lips curve into a cheeky smile before he’s stepping back, reassuring Ellie while leaving me watching the pair as they start to move on, having to jog to catch back up. 

He’s driving me fucking crazy and he knows it.

* 

We had found a cave to set up camp for the night and a fire had been lit but it’d gone out by the time of waking. I should have been shivering and cold but a arm was wrapped around my waist, body heat being shared. Ellie’s not in her sleeping back across the fire from us so I slowly wriggle free of the Texan, making sure not to wake him as he needs the sleep. 

Ellie’s standing my the entrance of the cave, Joel’s rifle in her hand and just watching the landscape, the sunrising and painting the snow with oranges and yellows. The birds sing and for once it feels oh so peaceful, Ellie smiling at me when she hears my approach. It has me wanting to sit down and just watch the snowflakes fall, each one with purpose and it’s everything I’ve missed. She joins me on the log I sit on, leaning her cheek on my shoulder and handing me the rifle which I lean against the log on my other side. It takes a few deep breaths before I speak up, knowing just how curious Ellie is about the world before the outbreak. I was young but there are things I remember, like snow days. 

“I remember waking up one morning, looking out my window and seeing everything blanketed in snow,” I tell her, voice barely above a whisper, “I was so excited as it was my first time seeing it, so excited I almost fell down the stairs in my rush to dress and go out into it. Elliott, he was my older brother. He was already waiting by the door for me, my jacket held out so I practically dived into it and barely had my boots on before I was tearing out the door. It was fucking freezing,” It draws a laugh from both of us, “Elliott and I had our first and last snowball fight that day.” 

“Snowball fight?” Ellie asks, nose scrunching up in confusion so I pull myself up, her following me. She watches as I grab some of the freshly settled snow and compact it in my hands into a ball before launching it at her, she shrieks in surprised before letting out a small war cry and copying me. Soon enough we’re running and yelling, pelting each other with snowballs and I’m grabbing her around the waist and spinning her before throwing us both into the snow. Both of us laughing so hard we don’t notice Joel leaning against the entrance to the cave until a snowball hits us both. I’m screeching as it went down the back of my jacket and it’s freezing, melting down my back. Ellie and I just glance at each other before we’re ganging up on Joel who’s grumbling and trying to protect himself from the onslaught of snowballs while trying to retaliate but he’s outnumbered and eventually just collapses back in the snow. 

“Victory is ours!” Ellie cheers as I stand over Joel, holding out a hand for him to help him up. He takes it and suddenly we’re so close, his cold nose bumping mine and our breaths mingling in the freezing air. Neither of us move until Ellie just sighs and yells at Joel to hurry up and kiss me so we can pack up and head on so that’s what the man doesn’t. His lips are velvet beneath mine, the kiss innocent and sweet but heating me to my core and everything I’ve been wanting from him for a while. 

*

We don’t much further on, reaching the river, crossing the bridge with a damn across it, all of us stopping to admire how crazy clear the water is. The woodlands are bare and empty and we’re too out in the open which Joel curses out. The echoing of galloping hooves invades every sense and Joel’s spinning around, grabbing both of our hands but we’re suddenly surrounded, never having time to even try and escape. Not like we could outrun horses anyway. 

Joel raises his hands and we copy as he calls to the masked bandits who are currently pointing rifles at us, “We ain’t looking for any trouble. We’re just passing through.”

“Drop the gun and you two, take five steps back.” The woman, obviously the leader snaps, eyes narrowing beneath her cowboy hat. Ellie glances at me so I guide her back five steps, trying to keep her calm when the woman speaks again, “You been near infected?”

“There’s no infected out here.” I reply and Joel’s shoulders tense up with rage when one of the men tells me to shut the fuck up. Joel looks like he’s ready to fight when they pull out a big black dog but it’s as if he can sense me silently urging him to be calm, we can’t have him trying to fight the eight people around us like he would fight anyone in the QZ who even thought about threatening me. 

“Last chance for a bullet. If you’ve been infected, he will smell it, and he will rip you up.” The same guy laughs and I lower one of my hands to grip Ellie’s, ignoring the way three gun immediately turn on me alone. I’ve come this far, she’s staying alive. The dog sniffs at Joel and his hands are shaking slightly, every instinct in my body wanting me to reach over and tell him it’s okay and that nothing can hurt him. The dog whines before making his way towards us, Joel glancing back in panic as Ellie’s technically infected. I shift Ellie behind me a little more as the do comes sniffing, crouching and lowly growling at me so I fix it with a steady glare having read somewhere it can be intimidating and it seems to work because the growl turns into a whine. 

The woman speaks up again, clicking her horse forwards a little, “You just bought yourself ten more seconds. What are you doing out here?”

“I’m just looking for my brother. That’s all, nothing more.” Joel tells her, breath shaky as she stares us down so I move back to him, placing a hand on his back like he does me. The woman narrows her eyes at us and up close she’s beautiful, the sliver of skin between her cowboy hat and the bandana pulled over her nose a breathtakingly rich umber colour. She narrows her eyes even more before asking a question that has the hairs on my neck raising, “What’s your name?”

“Joel.” 

*

The gates slide open, Ellie holding my waist tightly as we were given two horses. Joel took his own and I pulled Ellie up with me, cantering through the snow like in all those old movies. It’s breathtaking and I wish we didn’t have to slow to an easy walk while one of the riders waves a red bandana and the gates sliding open. 

People watch as we enter the town and all I can see is a society that is up and running again, as if the infected never existed. Ellie’s gasping, gripping me tighter before we all come to a stop and the gates are secured behind us. I dismount and help Ellie down with me, keeping her pressed close to my side as I have no idea what these people want or why Joel was the acceptable answer to the woman’s question. She’s now standing beside us and instinctively I pull Ellie to my other side, if she notices she doesn’t say anything. She wouldn’t have had time to say anything before Joel has frozen on the spot. His mouth dropped open a little before he’s raising a hand in hope and yelling a name I never expected, “TOMMY?!” 

The raven haired man on the scaffolding to our left looks up, eyes searching till they settle on Joel who’s jumped off his own horse now. The two are jogging towards each other, both not wanting to seem eager because they’re men probably. Idiots. But the reunion between them has my heart swelling with love but also grief as that can never be me and Elliott so I just hug Ellie close to my side as we watch the Miller brothers hug each other. 

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” Tommy asks, holding Joel at arms length and they just stare at each other, still in disbelief that they’re reunited again. 

“I can to save you.” Joel laughs and it’s the most beautiful sound that I swear to myself to hear again as they hug once more before Joel turns to me and Ellie and beckons us over, “Tommy, these are Y/N and Ellie.” 

“Pleasure to meet you,” There’s a knowing look in his cognac eyes and well, he’s not exactly wrong. Sure, I’m in something with Joel but there’s no label yet and Ellie… she’s my sister but honestly my feeling towards her are changing and shaping into motherly so, yeah he’s really not wrong, “Come on, you must be hungry.” 

“Fucking starving.” Ellie grins and Joel and I turn to fix her with a stern glare. Yeah, Tommy’s fucking right and we've only just met. 

“Ellie!”

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

Chapter One ⇢ Save Who You Can Save

Chapter Two ⇢ Stitches

Chapter Three ⇢ Keep You Safe

Chapter Four  ⇢ Escape Kansas City

Chapter Five ⇢

Chapter Six ⇢ Revealing Secrets

Chapter Seven ⇢ Crossed Paths

Chapter Eight ⇢ Finding Family

Chapter Nine ⇢ Two Become One

Chapter Ten ⇢ Coming Soon

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

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[angstyaches]

please please please soft n domestic sharlie where they’re both feeling really icky. they’re doing their best to work together and deal with it, but it really sucks and charlie calls his mum for advice?

Part One | Part Two

CW: stomach bug, fever, nausea, vomiting, anxiety, headache, light sensitivity, near-fainting, brief mentions of demonic possession and visions, food, disordered eating, sickies both worried about each other.

Word Count: 4,892

Sorry for any typos/editing fuck-ups, and also for the possibly abrupt endling? I've been agonising over this for so long and right now it's 1am and I'm soooo sleepy.

___

A gurgling sound broke the stillness, and even though Charlie was asleep and – hopefully – unaware of any bodily distress, Shayne swept his hand forward, through the fabric of his boyfriend’s pyjamas, and stroked his stomach.

He was half-asleep himself, exhaustion weighing on his head and his chest while he struggled to stay conscious. Charlie was sleeping now, yes, but sleep could be disrupted by so many things, with vomiting bouts and horrific nightmares being the two main causes for concern right now. 

He was barely aware that he’d let out a groan – out loud, loudly – until he felt Charlie tense, and then stir. 

“Sorry," Shayne murmured. "Are you okay?” 

Charlie suddenly rolled over to face him. His breath was minty from when he’d brushed his teeth a few hours ago, after his most recent appointment with the toilet bowl. His eyelids were barely open, but he was doing his best to peer at Shayne’s face in the dark. 

“Are you okay?” Shayne whispered again. “I-I didn’t know you were awake. Did you have a bad dream, or –” 

“No,” Charlie breathed. “Can I just check...?”  

Before Shayne could ask what he wanted to check, Charlie brushed Shayne’s curls back from his forehead and held his head in place – and then tipped their foreheads together.

Charlie’s skin felt clammy, but not as noticeably so as earlier, which had to be a good thing. Charlie held them both in that position for a long moment. Too long.  

Long enough that Shayne started feeling squirmy. 

“What are you doing?”  

“Are you sick?” Charlie asked. 

“What? No?” 

“You’re as hot as I am.” 

Shayne scoffed. “I’m... Charlie, I’m not sure that’s scientific –” 

“Are you feeling okay?” 

Fuck. Shayne had never managed to build up an immunity to that question. Especially not when Charlie asked it. Especially not when he asked in that painfully gentle voice. It made Shayne’s breath catch in his throat. It made his heart stop. It made him do something that he almost hated more than asking anyone for help; think about himself. 

So, for Charlie and for no other reason, he checked on himself. And the conclusion was that he felt like shit. But when didn’t he feel like shit?  

It was stress! He knew that. He was worried about Charlie – about his bug, and about his dreams, and about his general mental state. Worry made him stiff, and nauseous, and tired. There was nothing unusual about that. He was just stressed.  

Just tired. 

“Tired,” he whispered, forgetting to add the just. 

Charlie was still holding his hand against Shayne’s head, only now he was gently fondling his hair. When he shifted his head back, his blue, fever-glazed eyes had said, I don’t believe you, but okay. “Roll over. My turn to spoon you.” 

“I can’t rub your stomach then,” Shayne said, noticing how it sounded more like a threat than a fact. 

“I know, but you’re warm. You’ll be my hot water bottle.” Charlie pressed his hands into Shayne’s side, barely pushing him, but making his point. “Roll.” 

Shayne grumbled slightly at having to move, but if Charlie wanted him to turn over, then he’d do as he was asked.  

He might as well have not bothered. 

Throughout the rest of the night, Charlie tossed from his back to his side and back to his other side, until Shayne almost lost track of where in the bed his boyfriend actually was. His nerves started to grate in the early morning, as Charlie hoisted himself into yet another new position, and Shayne was about to snap and tell him to settle the fuck down, but luckily, Charlie spoke first and beat him to it. 

“You awake?” 

“Yes.” 

“Wanna go chill on the couch instead?” Charlie groaned. “I’m getting restless.” 

Oh, you think? Shayne didn’t particularly want to move, but he wanted to do what Charlie wanted. He grunted and nodded. 

Charlie seemed to remember that he’d been in the same pyjamas ever since he’d first thrown up, so he changed into a set of cream-coloured loungewear that Ingrid had gifted him at Christmas. It’d shrunk a little during its first wash-and-dry, so the ankle- and wrist-cuffs were a little high, but Charlie seemed content enough. He let out a constant stream of groans and whimpers of discomfort as he went about changing. 

Shayne moved slowly, his joints growing more rigid as he left the warmth of the bed. As soon as he was up, Charlie scooped the duvet up and carried it like he was a pale, sickly fireman. Shayne grabbed an extra hoodie and half-heartedly pulled it on as he followed Charlie downstairs. 

“I’m actually kind of hungry,” Charlie admitted in the hallway.  

It took Shayne a second to register that. Food just hadn’t crossed his mind since Charlie had started puking his life away. “Do... you want me to get you something?” 

“No, I’ll get it myself.” 

Before Shayne could protest, Charlie handed over the bulky duvet to him. “You go get the place comfy. I’ll follow you in a minute. And get warm, okay?” 

It was only then that Shayne noticed that he was shaking, hard enough for Charlie to have noticed, too. His jaw ached from the force of keeping his teeth from rattling, and some of that same tension was creeping down into his shoulders.  

As Charlie took his detour through the kitchen, Shayne tossed the blanket across the couch and fired up the radiators in the front sitting room. He stayed crouched next to one of them, holding his hand against it until he thought he could feel it start to warm up. He realised he was spacing out when the top of his head touched the radiator and snapped him back to life. 

He got up and shut the curtains on all sides of the room; the sun wasn’t quite up yet, but it would be soon, and the light might hurt Charlie’s head. The last thing he needed, on top of a stomach bug, was a migraine.  

The very idea of him having to deal with both made Shayne’s knees feel weak. Or maybe they’d already felt kind of weak to begin with... 

He glanced towards the sitting room door as Charlie appeared, bleary-eyed and messy-haired. He was carrying a plate that held two slices of toast that were so pale that he’d probably gotten impatient and popped them up before the toaster had finished. He also had a cup of water, which he was taking a sip from while he walked. 

“You okay?” he asked softly. 

Shayne swallowed the fluttering sensation in his throat. “Mmhmm. You?” 

Charlie put his glass on the coffee table and took a bite out of his toast. 

Since they had access to the TV now, Shayne expected Charlie to put on an episode of Friends, or something similar, but in the end, he ate his toast in silence. By the time he’d finished, Shayne had crawled in between the sofa and the duvet, and hummed – or was it a whimper? – when Charlie joined him. 

“Are you awake?” 

Shayne flinched.  

He wasn’t sure he’d been asleep at all, really, but rather drifting somewhere between a confusing dream and the reality in which he was feeling more and more like shit by the minute. His head throbbed, his stomach hurt like a bitch, and he just wished he could sleep. But he was also so cold that it felt like an ice demon had crawled over him, and that sensation alone was enough to keep him awake. 

Yes, unfortunately, he thought in his head. Then he remembered that Charlie wasn’t in his head. 

“Mm.” He hugged Charlie a little harder, hands closing over opposite sides of his waist, and turned his head to get a face full of soft, blonde hair that smelled like spring time. He felt Charlie lean into the embrace, too. 

His chest suddenly fluttered with anxiety. “Are you okay, love?” 

“Yep. No dreams. Not going to throw up,” Charlie whispered. Then, he pressed a quick kiss against Shayne’s cheek. The kiss felt like punctuation – a full-stop at the end of the soft, hazy quiet that had enveloped them both for so long.  

“I’m really sorry, lovely.” 

“Hmm?”  

Charlie began to shimmy across the couch, shaking out his part of the blanket to get his feet loose. “I am... way too hot. Holy shit.” 

The arms Shayne had been using to hold onto Charlie locked themselves around his own torso. He blinked his eyes open and almost outwardly whimpered at the cold that pressed in on him. It felt like the sun had just been shot down out of the sky in the middle of the afternoon, and his body was being consumed by freezing shadows.  

“Wh-what...?” 

“I can’t cuddle anymore.” 

Well, fuck. There was a sentence Shayne would never, in his life, have banked on hearing from Charlie’s lips. 

“But I’m so fucking cold.” Shayne hated to whine, but his brain wasn’t working properly, and these were desperate times. He hugged himself a bit harder. 

“Aw. Sweetheart,” Charlie lamented quietly.  

It was only about one metre of space that separated them now, but they might as well have been on opposite sides of the globe.  

“I’m just... too hot. I’m sorry.” Charlie sighed and stood up, raking his fingers through his hair. His cheeks did, admittedly, look flushed, which was better than sickly pale, at least. 

He took a step forward, moving with more conviction than he had in days, through the way he kept his shoulders slightly hunched and his knees too rigid gave away how stiff and achy he still was.  

“Is it okay if I just turn the radiators down?” 

For a second, Shayne genuinely thought he might cry. “Charlie, no. I’m begging you.” 

“I’m gonna pass out from the heat. Seriously.” 

“Charlie, I’m going to kill you.” 

“Just by one notch, okay?” 

Shayne pulled the blanket up as far as his eyes and stared miserably at Charlie as he moved across the room. He didn’t want Charlie to be uncomfortable. Obviously. It just sucked that it came at the price of worsening his own experience.  

“Fine.” 

Charlie crouched by the radiator, moving at a snail’s pace and groaning under his breath. He shoved his already-slightly-too-short sleeves up even further, so that the cream fabric was bunched up around his elbows. 

“How you feeling?” Shayne lowered the blanket slightly to ask. That horrible worry fluttered in his chest again, setting off a burning discomfort in the pit of his stomach. Charlie had been so, so sick, not to mention wracked with every emotion under the sun. And talking about some... worrying things –  

Charlie huffed in displeasure. “Boiling alive,” he declared, as though he hadn’t just mentioned that at least three times already. 

Shayne would have rolled his eyes if he didn’t think it would make him dizzy. “Besides that.” 

“Oh. Um,” Charlie sighed as he fidgeted with the knob. “I’m still feeling kind of bleugh. I'm so fed up of it, to be honest.” 

I’m sorry. I wish I could fix it faster. 

“How are you, lovely?” Charlie turned his head to look back at Shayne. “Are you doing okay?” 

Shayne swallowed. He didn’t need to assess himself this time – he knew what was going on, and the sickly feeling in his stomach was only confirming it – but he did stop to weigh up the pros and cons of telling Charlie the truth. 

“You hesitated.” Charlie sighed again. This time, his eyes were pinned on Shayne’s face, which, evidently, was giving away a lot more than his words were. “It’s happening, isn’t it?” 

Charlie – fuck, Shayne loved him so much – had never actually said the words out loud, that Shayne was sick now, too. The most he’d done was suggest that they had the same body temperature, and encourage him to take some sips of water from the same glass; no use worrying about sharing germs when the germs had already been shared. 

Shayne was sick. They both knew that. They just didn’t know how sick. 

Charlie was grimacing as he stood up from adjusting the radiator. He didn’t ask, out loud, if Shayne was finally feeling sick to his stomach, but his hand hovered near his own belly, as though in sympathy. 

Shayne shook his head in an attempt at defiance – ironically, too busy fighting a wave of nausea to actually say anything. 

Charlie nodded, not in understanding, but in acknowledgment of Shayne’s bullshit. “I’ll make you some tea. That usually helps you.” 

“D-don’t... don’t be stupid,” Shayne choked out. Tea. He hadn’t made Charlie any tea. He’d brought him water, and crackers, and ibuprofen for his head and fever when he’d asked for them, but... not tea. Guilt fogged up his eyes. “Charlie, sit back down. You’re sick.” 

“You’re sick. And you said you’re freezing, so I’m going to make you tea.” Charlie’s eyes, tired and sunken as they were, crinkled up at the corners with an easy smile as he started to move towards the hallway door. “I’m going through the kitchen anyway. I wanna go to the patio for some fresh air.” 

Shayne’s whole body shuddered at the idea. Even the air directly outside his blanket was too much. “You’re crazy.” 

“Well, then,” Charlie shrugged slowly, “you love a crazy person, so what does that say about you?” 

God fucking damn it, Shayne thought, drawing the blanket a little closer to himself. He’s fucking right. 

___ 

Charlie filled the kettle to halfway – maybe he’d have a cup of tea as well, if he managed to cool down – and put it on to boil. He flicked the button down with a bit of flair, tilting his hips as though there was music playing. Out of nowhere, he’d started feeling so much more active. Maybe all that resting had paid off, and now he could be productive. He started thinking about bringing his laptop into the sitting room to catch up on the slides from the lectures he’d missed while he was sick. That would save him a lot of stress next week. 

It was already much cooler than the sitting room, but he still craved that fresh air he’d promised himself.  

He sucked in a breath as he pushed open the patio door and let a gentle morning breeze drift over his face and neck. He took a couple of steps across the paved slabs. The cold creeping in through his socks barely registered. Birds were letting off calls through the forest, and the sound carried back and reverberated against the gable end of the house. The wind through the trees made the same sound as his breath made in his nose. 

He breathed in again. 

And then shuddered as he breathed out. 

The morning was overcast, but the sun was up there somewhere, attempting to burn through the clouds. The resulting white light was like a million tiny daggers forcing their way into Charlie’s eye sockets. 

His vision started to dissolve into dark spots. His knees didn’t just feel like they’d gone weak, they felt like they just... didn’t exist anymore. There had always been a low thrum of ickiness in his tummy, just a weakened echo of the pain and nausea from the previous few days, but now it sank its claws into his insides, dragging the weight of his organs towards his toes.  

His flash of confidence was whisked away like a rug from under his feet – and the ground itself felt like it was being ripped away, too. 

No, no, no. He absolutely did not want to faint out here. He couldn’t.  

And yet – 

Dark, dark, his vision was so dark, speckled with leaves and twigs and then with swirling shadows – 

Charlie stumbled forward on unsteady feet, unseeing, praying there was nothing sharp or hard for him to step on. His hands flailed in search of the wooden banister that looped around the edge of the patio. 

“Ah,” Charlie whispered out loud, triumphant. He sagged forward as his hands closed around the rain-dampened wood. He wondered if he’d have sagged even if he hadn’t found the banister with his hands. Would his head have found it, instead? He tried not to think too hard about that, because it made him feel woozy again. 

He dropped his weight against the banister, leaning into his torso so his legs could recover from their jelly-like state. Breathing deeply seemed to steady him a bit, but it also dried him out, from the tip of his tongue all way down into his lungs and belly. 

With each blink, thought, the ground came a little more into focus, and his head felt less like it was filled with bubble wrap being melted by a heat gun. He tried to pinpoint as many little details as he could, tethering himself to the scene as though he was returning to his body after a dissociative panic attack.  

“Oh, fuck, are you okay?” 

Charlie started. His neck was too stiff to lift his head as quickly as he wanted to, so Shayne was standing right next to him before he managed to look up. 

“Um, yeah...” Charlie was still wondering whether or not he should say something about the dizzy spell and almost passing out, when he realised: 

Shayne was now clutching the railing, too. He opened his mouth, like he was going to say something, but instead he leaned over the edge of the patio and retched over the side. 

Charlie heaved a shaky sigh. “There it is.” 

He had been deluding himself with the hope that the sickness wouldn’t hit Shayne’s stomach the way it had hit his. He looped an arm around his boyfriend’s waist. He was shaking even harder than Charlie was. 

Shayne coughed deeply, his chest banging into the wooden railing, before he choked out a hoarse, and very displeased, “Fuck’s sake.” 

It tickled Charlie just a bit, that Shayne still had the capacity to be pissed off, even in the middle of vomiting. He wondered if he was pissed off at the bug for getting to him, or at his body for allowing the bug to get to him. Probably both. Or just existence in general. 

“Sorry.” Shayne gulped audibly, his shoulders shuddering as he tried to straighten himself up. He absently wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “I –  I came out to – to ch-check on you.” 

“Thank you,” Charlie said sincerely, though his voice was trembling. He rubbed a weak circle across Shayne’s lower back. His mind was racing, trying to land on some kind of plan for taking care of Shayne while he was still very much recovering himself. “Come on. Wanna get back in, out of the cold?” 

Shayne shook his head, despite shivering miserably. “Not done.” 

“Oh.” 

“Mmhmm. You can go, though.” 

Charlie took his hand off the railing and took a step back – just checking that he actually could go back inside without his knees buckling and his head hitting the paved slabs. He still felt like he hadn’t caught his breath, and his head still hurt, but he felt steadier. 

He eyed the patio door to the kitchen. It was so tempting to retreat inside, away from the morning glare. He also needed a lot of water, he was realising. He’d been drinking a lot during his sickness, but he’d been sweating and puking most of it away. And as he’d just learned, he was no good to Shayne if he passed out, whether it was from light sensitivity, or dehydration, or any other reason. 

Charlie’s legs and arms trembled as he let go of the banister. He felt like he was standing on ice skates, fighting just to stay balanced. “I’m just... going to the kitchen, lovely.” 

“Mmm.” Shayne folded his arms on top of the railing and leaned forward again. 

Charlie moved delicately through the kitchen, finding his hands grow steadier. He willed himself not to get carried away like last time. No flair, no silly little hip wiggles. He was still sick and he still needed to act like it. 

He decided against making himself a cup of tea, and sipped on another glass of water instead.  

He heard the patio door shut, and turned to see that Shayne had come back inside and headed straight for the kitchen table. He slumped down into a chair and buried his head in his arms, like he used to do as his school desk. 

Worry and nostalgia wriggled in Charlie’s gut.

“Shayne?” he said gently, walking towards the table with a steaming mug. 

He responded with a muffled groan. 

“I made you some tea, cutie.” Charlie felt a genuine smile flicker across his face. “To settle your tummy.” 

Shayne lifted his head up and blinked. He was horribly pale, the shadows under his eyes deepened. “What?” 

Charlie left the mug down next to him and gestured to it. “It’s ginger.” 

 Shayne gave a flustered little groan.  

“What?” Charlie asked. 

“I t-told you not to.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

Shayne flinched again. “Sorry. Thank you...” 

“It’s okay,” Charlie half-laughed, though he found no part of this funny. His nerves were all alight, his veins tingling with adrenaline like he was in the middle of a slow-creeping anxiety attack. It was just sinking in that he’d almost fainted out there on the patio. He could have hurt himself, badly, if he had.  

And Shayne was struggling to keep still in the chair without shuddering. His hands were trembling so much that Charlie actually dreaded him trying to pick the mug up, so he picked it back up himself. 

“Come on. Back to the warm.” 

“Hurts,” Shayne mumbled. 

“I know, lovely. I know it does.” Believe me, I know. Charlie tried to force a smile, even while his eyes threatened to fill up. “I can’t bear watching you shiver like this, though, so come on, please.” 

Shayne stiffened and attempted to put his hands on the table to push himself up. “Sorry.” 

“Would you stop saying you’re sorry?” Charlie exclaimed softly. It probably came out sounding a lot harsher than it did in his head, because it seemed to make Shayne flinch again. “You’re killing me, lovely.” 

Charlie went first, glancing back to make sure he didn’t lose Shayne. He half-expected him to duck into the downstairs bathroom as they passed it, judging by the colour of his face and the hand that didn’t seem to want to leave his belly. 

But they both reached the sofa again, and Charlie gestured for Shayne to get into the duvet, and he did. 

“Comfy?” 

Shayne shrugged, eyeing the mug Charlie had carried in for him. Charlie felt a little glow of accomplishment as he handed it over and Shayne willingly took it. 

“Thanks.” 

“You’re... you’re welcome,” Charlie sighed. He shut his eyes and let himself be swamped with the light-headedness he’d been fighting off on the walk from the kitchen to the sitting room. When he opened his eyes again, Shayne had wrapped his hands around the mug and held it close to his chest, like he wanted it to warm his insides, but hadn’t quite realised that drinking it would achieve that even faster. 

His dark eyes, riddled with exhaustion, were pinned on Charlie. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

“Yep. No. I don’t know.” 

“Sit down.” 

Charlie did, ignoring the duvet. Those waves of skin-prickling heat and the panic hit him all at once, again. The flashes of that dark dream, that dark place, that had licked at his mind as he’d stepped outside. Shit. What could Shayne have realistically done in his state, if Charlie had blacked out on the patio and hurt himself?  

It could have been bad. 

“Love...” Shayne’s voice was a little hoarse after being sick. “Charlie, are you crying?” 

He was, he realised. Tears even hotter than his skin settled in the corner of his eyes. 

“I ju–” Charlie covered his mouth to hold in a sob, even though he realised that it was for nobody’s benefit. He sank down lower, tipping his head against Shayne’s shoulder. “I-I don’t know what to do.” 

“What to do? Charlie, it’s fine. I can still do stuff for you, if – if you need something.” 

“No. You can’t. You’re sick, too.” 

Shayne shook his head. “Charlie, everything is okay. You’re panicking.” 

“I think – I think I’m going to call my mum.” As soon as he said it, Charlie exhaled thoroughly, deeply. Yeah. That felt right. 

He patted down his pockets, not finding his phone until he expanded his search to the sofa cushions underneath him. When he settled back down, getting ready to make the call, he glanced to the side and saw that Shayne was staring at him like he’d suggested contacting NASA and asking to borrow some of their equipment.  

___ 

Shayne’s heart was racing frantically. He was certain that if his stomach hadn’t just been thoroughly emptied out on the patio, he’d have thrown up from the feeling that had inhabited his body. 

The same feeling he’d had when he’d accidentally walked straight into the Waters’ house without knocking, making them think someone had just broken in; the same feeling he’d had after the first time he’d accidentally fallen asleep in Charlie’s room.  

So much space, you take up so much – 

Charlie put a hand on Shayne’s knee. “You okay?” he asked quietly, but then Ingrid answered her phone. 

“Heya, sweetie!” Her voice was already dripping with sympathy when she answered the phone; Charlie text her since he’d gotten sick, so it wasn’t news to her. “Are you okay?” 

“Not really.” Charlie was even more direct and honest with his mother than he was with Shayne, and hearing him admit so freely that he wasn’t okay made Shayne’s stomach lurch again.  

He brought his tea to his lips, not daring to take a sip and yet desperate for something to do. 

“No?” Ingrid asked. 

“I can’t stand up for longer than a few minutes without feeling like I’m going to pass out –” 

Shayne’s heart dropped. Wait, what?  

“And now Shayne’s throwing up, too. I don’t – don’t know what to do.” 

“Okay, take a deep breath, Char,” Ingrid said steadily. “I really doubt it’s anything serious. Are you staying hydrated? Plenty of fluids?” 

“I-I’m  trying to...” 

“Good. Good. Eating something?” 

“I had some toast this morning. I...” Charlie’s gaze flicked towards Shayne. His eyes flashed questioningly. “I can’t remember when...” 

Shayne shook his head, suddenly feeling like he might be the one crying next. He hadn’t eaten since Charlie had come down with the bug, but he didn’t want to admit that, not with Ingrid on the phone. 

“I’m going to come over and check on you both,” Ingrid said.  

Shayne’s stomach felt like it was going down a funfair slide. 

“And I’ll bring you a few bits that you might need. You shouldn’t be driving if you’re having dizzy spells,” Ingrid was saying. “I’ll leave in a few minutes, so I should... Hmm. I’ll be there around tea time.” 

Through the drained look on Charlie’s face, there was a flicker of joy. What Shayne felt was a mixture of relief and guilt that he couldn’t quite wrestle any logic from; he was glad that Ingrid was coming for Charlie’s sake, but the fact that she was also coming due to him being sick made him want to set himself on fire. 

Instead, he took a slow sip of his tea, which was so hot that it almost felt like setting his mouth on fire. It felt a little better when it reached his empty belly, warmth gently curling through his insides. He couldn't help but feel like he didn't deserve that small relief from the nausea and the cold.

How could he not have realised that Charlie was close to passing out when he'd found him earlier? Shayne had walked out onto the patio and spent all of three seconds checking on his boyfriend before turning into a shivering, puking mess.

The phone conversation seemed to be wrapping up. “Thanks, Mum.” 

“See you soon, sweetie. Love you both.” 

Shit. 

“Love you.” Charlie hung up and let his phone slide down onto the couch. His attention was immediately fixed on Shayne. “Hey. You okay?” 

He nodded insincerely.  

“Come here.” Charlie seemed a bit more at ease now, which let Shayne lean into him for comfort with a little less guilt. He was so warm, even though the duvet was separating Shayne’s body from his. “Sorry I had to tell my mum you’re not feeling well.” 

“It’s fine,” Shayne exhaled. “Sorry I didn’t... know you almost passed out.” 

“Sorry I gave you my bug.” Charlie hummed in gentle amusement. At least he seemed calmer now. Calmer than he had since before he’d gotten sick. “We could do this all day, lovely, or we could try to get some sleep.” 

Shayne tried and failed to suppress the shiver that began in the pit of his stomach and ended at the ends of his hair. “Mmm.” 

“Drink your tea.” Charlie pressed a kiss into Shayne’s curls. “And know that you deserve to be taken care of."

Shayne almost choked as he tried to take a sip. His gaze flicked towards Charlie's face. "Um. So do you."

"I know that," Charlie whispered. "Just making sure you know it, too."

[robrae-is-forever]

RobRae Week Day 4

@fuckyeahrobrae

Upon waking, the first thing Robin did was tense up physically.

The second thing he did was realize getting tense was a terrible idea if he wanted to remain blameless, so he relaxed. It took a moment to relax, but he did.

Cracking one eye open, he asked himself, "Alright, am I holding... Raven. Yep, thought so."

With one arm extended up along the couch cushion and the other around Raven's waist, keeping her close, her hand was over his, pressing against her stomach. He was only able to see the messy bed head of purple hair in front of him without tilting his neck to look down. When he saw a few strands shift when he exhaled, he had to remind himself to take slow steady breaths. He wasn't caught - not yet. And the general lack of silence meant that the other Titans hadn't found him out yet. Assuming he'd shifted into spooning Raven sometime after they'd woken up, that is, otherwise there would almost certainly be photo evidence and a lot of teasing. After Raven killed him, that was.

Trying to figure out how he'd ended up in this mess, he thought back to the night prior: how and why did he and Raven end up in this position?

"Movie night!" Cyborg called out as Starfire walked into the living room, the last of the five residents to do so. Beast Boy had already taken the best spot in the center of the couch, and Cyborg was finishing preparing the last bowls of popcorn and gathering soda from the fridge. Robin was sitting to Beast Boy's left, and to his left sat Raven on the edge of the couch. Starfire sat next to the youngest member, and when Cyborg saw that he was going to have to sit on the right edge, 'accidently' dumped half a bowl of popcorn in Beast Boy's lap. "Oops." Cyborg said without sounding apologetic. "I didn't see you there. Normally no one sits in my spot."

"So you just planned on dumping popcorn in your seat?" Raven asked before Beast Boy could start a shouting contest.

"I- He- Aw, nevermind. What are we watching tonight?"

"Okay dudes - I proudly present to you the movie to dethrone Wicked Scary: Those Things From Other Universes!" Beast Boy lifted the remote and pressed play, and the opening credits began.

"Beast Boy is the thing from another universe." Raven muttered under her breath as she leaned close to Robin, and looked satisfied when she got a chuckle out of him.

The movie, it turned out, was not a contender for Wicked Scary in the slightest. With terrible CGI, unbearable acting, and a confusing plot, it had led to more questions and laughter during the movie than any of their previous movie nights.

"That was awful. Who told you it was as good as Wicked Scary?" Raven asked.

"Uh, it was, um... I don't remember. Maybe it was a commercial." Beast Boy scratched his head. After a moment of silence, the disappointment in the air was palpable, and Starfire cleared her throat and stood up to grab the remote.

"Our movie night cannot end like this! I propose a watching a comedy to lift our spirits and ending our night of eye glazing on the highest note." For a moment, she struggled to use the remote to maneuver the menus and get to the comedy section, but once there selected a film at Cyborg's suggestion.

During the film, Raven started yawning. The puns and slapstick got a laugh out of Cyborg and Beast Boy, but the other three did little more than smile.

"That was a waste." Raven stretched her arms over her head.

"You did not enjoy the film?" Starfire asked hesitantly. "In truth, I did not understand much of the humor..." She gave an apologetic smile to Cyborg and Beast Boy, who were both frowning at her.

"How about an action film?" Robin suggested. He caught the remote with one hand when Starfire tossed it at him. "I heard there's a new martial arts movie out: A retired cop who has to save his ex-partner by fighting his way through the city's underground crime ring."

"Oh joy - a vigilante fighting criminals. What a wild idea that none of us have ever heard of." Raven quipped, causing Robin to turn his head and sticking his tongue out at her.

Robin started the film, and everyone turned their attention to the television. This was probably when things started to go wrong: Robin had his arms over the back of the couch; it was around Raven, it wasn't even close to touching her really, but the position did allow Raven (after another yawn) to shift on the couch and lean against him with her head against his chest. He gave her a cursory glance, but when she didn't look up and he saw how tired she looked, he decided not to draw any unnecessary attention to her and focused back on the movie.

"Boo yah! How about that, Raven?" Cyborg asked as the film ended on an explosive climactic note. "Everything you could ask for in a - is she asleep?"

"I was." She lifted her head and rubbed her eyes. "And as for that-" She pointed one hand at the television and took the remote with her other, "That was crap. We've done better, and our fights aren't choreographed. So many actors missed their marks in that second scene that I stopped paying attention." With several clicks, she picked out a new movie.

"The Treasure of the Sierra Madre?" Beast Boy read aloud.

"Is this black and white?" Cyborg asked. "How old is this?"

"This is a classic film from the golden age of Hollywood. It's about how greed changes people and can bring out the worst in them. Some people appreciate movies for the artistry and the lessons they can teach, instead of letting them put us to sleep with mindless action."

"She is a snob, yes?" Starfire whispered to Cyborg, who gave her a nod.

Raven returned to leaning against Robin, curling her legs beneath her and letting one arm cross over Robin's waist. Okay, some red flags should have definitely been tripped at this point, but he was honestly starting to feel pretty tired himself. Three movies and nearly six hours later, it was early in the morning and Raven was warm and soft against him. Everyone was yawning at this point, and the old timey movie Raven put on wasn't helping them at all.

Once it ended, everyone turned to look at Raven. They all must have been too tired to comment on how she was cuddling Robin.

"That was boring." Beast Boy muttered.

"Yes; even though Raven seeks out more sophisticated entertainment, I wish we had changed the film once she had fallen asleep." Starfire said in a low voice to avoid disturbing the sleeping Titan.

There was a moment of silence between the friends before Cyborg grabbed the remote. "Well, we can't end movie night on that. Maybe we should throw on something we've seen before?"

"No way!" Beast Boy threw his hands up. "We always find a new movie on movie night! We can't call it quits until we all find a film we agree on."

~X~

And so it had gone on. Robin had managed to stay awake for the entirety of the next film, but it was almost dawn when they started the next film, and he barely made it past the opening credits before he wrapped one arm around Raven without really thinking about it and drifting off to sandman land.

"Why didn't the others wake one of us up?" He asked himself. "Surely they would've done so after they got their blackmail photos." He rolled his eyes behind the mask. He looked down and saw that Raven's cloak was shifted over the top of both of them as a makeshift blanket. "There's no way Raven slept through that- that would've taken a deliberate movement, and we're both fairly light sleepers." He frowned as he realized something else. "And we're both further up on the couch - if we had just fallen on our sides, our legs should be off the edge. And she shouldn't have ended up in front of me like this, she should be-"

His thoughts were cut off when Raven exhaled and shifted back so she was flush with him. She stretched the one leg that was tangled with his, and Robin flushed right to his ears when her hips pushed back. "She's soft... NO! Think about that later- NO! Don't think about it all. God, why did she have to move-"

"Robin. Rooooooooobin. Testing testing. Do. You. Hear. Me."

He blinked, and focused on the back of Raven's head.

"Oh good, it worked. I'm speaking to you using telepathy."

His brow furrowed. "Uh... Good morning?" He thought, focusing on her.

"I think it's past noon."

There was a moment of silence and he glanced to the side. After a moment he swallowed and asked, "Do you... want to get up?"

Raven shook her head in front of him. "I was happy sleeping. You know, when you focus all your thoughts on an empath you're holding, she'll wake up."

"Stupid!" He shouted at himself, making Raven wince. "Sorry. I just- you know."

"Know what?"

He realized how stiff he felt - no, use a different phrase! How tense he was, and had to tell himself to relax again. "I didn't mean to... You know... Cuddle you."

"Mm-hmm." She hummed, but didn't move.

He cleared his throat and forced the blush on his face down. "I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable." He clarified, hoping she would get the hint.

"I'm very comfortable." She laced her fingers through his hand on her stomach. "You know, you'd make a pretty good pillow."

"Thanks?" He wasn't sure how to respond that, especially not when it came from Raven of all people. "You know-"

"Are you uncomfortable, Robin?" She cut him off.

He blinked in surprise. "I don't want-"

"Wasn't what I asked. I don't care if our friends mess with us if they see us, and I'm not uncomfortable laying here with you. Are you?"

Raven tilted her head so she could look back at him with one eye, and after a moment, Robin squeezed her hand and relaxed. "No. I'm fine like this."

"Thought so." She turned forward and closed her eyes. "Perks of being an empath: I can tell when you're lying."

Robin closed his eyes, and smiled in spite of himself - a smile that was contagious enough to make Raven smile, too.

Raven spoke in his mind once more. "So let's just lay here for a while - until the others get back. Maybe sometime soon, we can lay like this again."

[broken-clover]

22- Creating

I'll admit I'm considering mashing up prompts for the last week of this little project, I'm very much losing steam but don't want to throw in the towel when so close to completion.

Somehow I still have more fandoms to add in, so here's a little persona 5. A very flawed game with questionable moments, but I still like a lot of the characters, especially Yusuke. He's a charmingly peculiar little man with a fluffy fox tail that wags. It's hard not to be charmed. I'm realizing that both of the only fics I've made for him are about making art, but I'm treating it as a form of enrichment for him.

-

Yusuke was, first and foremost, a painter, but when Akira had made mention of some sculptor’s clay he’d bought at a discount from the craft store, he simply couldn’t resist. The urge to create could manifest in many ways.

The loft had already been set up with a little folding table by the time he’d arrived. Sakamoto and Takamaki were already there, as well, something that gave him pause. He hadn’t expected anyone else, nor had the two ever seemed particularly artistically inclined. At least at a glance, the box of clay was quite large, plenty for the four of them.

He sat down in the open chair. “I appreciate you inviting me, Akira.”

“Well, making a whole event out of this was Ryuji’s idea,” replied Ann, “so be sure to thank him too!”

“Ah…I see. Thank you, Sakamoto.”

Still, Akira had taken charge, as he was prone to. He managed the supply box, wrestling a long string to slice through the beige lump for Yusuke to use.

“You know how to sculpt, dont’cha, Yusuke?” Ryuji asked.

“I’m aware of the basics,” he said. “This isn’t my typical medium, but I am still somewhat familiar with it. Do you?”

“Nah, only done it a couple times before! That’s why I wanted to give it a go when I heard about his little shopping trip!” The boy beamed, jerking a thumb at their leader.

“It felt like a good way to relax,” Ann added in, “it feels like we get less and less free time lately, so if we’ve got an afternoon, why not do something fun?”

Yusuke nodded in approval. Even if he didn’t always understand his teammates, he could understand that much. At times, painting could bring him a sense of relief like no other. That wasn’t always how it went (artists’ block was an accursed thing that soured one of the grandest delights in his life) but when it did, he savored it.

As he started getting to work kneading the clay, he took note of how the others worked. Ann was meticulous in detailing her in-progress sculpture, gingerly scraping away tiny slivers to make patterns of indents and swirls. Ryuji seemed more interested with just playing around than creating something, building up a lump only to squash it back down again and redo the process. Akira was…

He scooted closer to try for a better look. “What are you making?”

Akira flattened the bottom of his half-done creation and began pulling along the top. “I’m making a little bowl.” He replied, thumbing over the rim to smooth the edge. “I don’t think I have any food-safe glaze, so I shouldn’t eat out of it, but I can put it on my desk and use it to hold things.”

What a practical thought. It fit him perfectly.

Yusuke happily fell into the chatter of his teammates, though repeatedly getting distracted by his own clay. Ann had been right, this was just what they’d needed between all the schoolwork and Mementos-delving. Of course the conversation passed over that every once in a while, but it didn’t linger long. They were free to just talk about whatever mundane goings-on caught anyone’s interest. Akira talked about the nice weather. Ryuji talked about an electronics sale he’d seen in town. It was nice. Just good, simple fun with some dear friends. Yusuke hoped they could make a habit of it.