#anxiety-banana tag!

[renegadeontherunn]

ahhhh 🧸 and 🐑 for the ask game? <3

ahhh thanks for the ask ab!!!

from these cottagecore asks

teddy bear: do you ever want to raise kids someday?

honestly, i'm not sure! i'm only 20 (about to turn 21, ayyy) so kids + all that feels pretty far in my future. i actually really like kids + interacting with + talking to them and i don't think i'd be necessarily bad at raising kids, so maybe! ask me again in like 9 years and i might have a better answer for you alsdjlajkakl

sheep: what is a comfort item you own?

ahh this is a cutie one! i would probably say my stuffed animal named lovey. i love stuffed animals in general + have quite a few, but she is i think the oldest stuffed animal i own. she's a little pink and white dog and one of her ears is like half sewn on and she has one pink eye and one white eye and i take her everywhere. any time i'm on a trip that's overnight, she's packed immediately. any time i'm having an especially hard day, boom lovey cuddle sesh. i just love her, she's so cute and has literally been with me through like my entire life and so yeah, she's definitely a comfort to me :)

[bunny-jpeg]

stressed out baking

lando norris

tags: smut & fluff, baking, stress, university student!reader, post-singapore gp '24, oral sex (reader receiving), established relationship, wife kink, missionary, praise + love

after singapore you could feel the jitter. it also didn't help that the fall semester was happening along side it. your boyfriend's fight for the world championship plus your fight to finish your undergraduate degree made it feel like the walls' of your world were closing in.

and in the moments of high anxiety, you felt the need to establish some control. and while many others had their own voices, you were hold up in your shared flat and baking up a goddamn storm.

timers set, apron around your waist as you patted the top of your stove, "i know, delilah. i am using and abusing you tonight. but, i'm just so stressed out!" you sighed, "lando is so close. imagine the upgrades we could do to little ol' you as a result of the win?" you gave the stove another pat before you went back to check in on the batter situation with the brownies.

you knew you'd be giving your neighbours the baked goods. you and lando couldn't eat all of the sweets you were cooking. they'd expire before you could finish it. and your neighbours loved your baking while you said there were made with love. they were rather made with immense anxiety.

the timer dinged and you wiped the sweat from your brow and exhaled you could already feel the anxiety drip off your shoulders as you went to grab the banana bread from the oven.

-

lando should've know you had been a near nervous wreck when he walked down the hallway to his flat. he should've known because the aroma of baked goods only got stronger the closer he got to his home. despite being tired, the promise of his girlfriend and a sweet treat made him move a little faster towards the door.

he got the door open and was greeted to the sight of you in the kitchen and enough baked goods to fill a school's bake sale. in your hand was a wooden spoon and in the crook of your arm was a plastic mixing bowl.

"oh, babe." he knew you weren't in the kitchen because it was a causal monday night. you baking was never a good sign. he approached you after he left his bags by the door and captured you in his arms. the bowl pressed to his chest as he gazed at you, "what are you doing?" then kissed you on the nose, "i'm sorry for making you worried." then peppered your face with kisses. when he pulled away, he looked at you and smiled.

"i know you came in first, but there's still a good ways left to go." you sighed as you put the bowl down on the counter and held him tightly, "and i'll be at less and less races because of school." you sighed.

"and i'd rather you be at less and less races if that means you'll get that degree." he said with reassurance, "please don't worry, okay? no more stress baking." then gestured to the oven, "you're hurting her." and then laughed when you broke a smile.

lando acted as your shadow while you finished up baking for the evening. it wasn't an activity that you could just put down half-way through. he even washed the dishes for you, while he got the baking tray clean, he couldn't help but admire how you looked in an apron. the one he bought you.

his hand then traced along your lower back when you got close enough. you looked so domestic, it was sweet in lando's eyes. and while he had been pushing to take your education as far as it could go. to be the best of the best in your field, there was a lustful part of him that liked the look of you being so wife-like. it was quite the sight, especially when you bent over to get the last of the treats out of the oven.

once everything was cooled off and put in containers to be given away, lando's touches became more frequent. he licked his lips and help you gently, "mmm, fuck, babe. you look good in this apron." he rubbed the front of his jeans up against you, "you look like the future mrs. norris."

you chuckled and said, "i kow you'd prefer if there was nothing underneath." you grazed your hand across his strong forearm. you took him by the hand and kissed his palm.

lando then went in to kiss the side of your neck, "maybe, my birthday is coming up. i come home with the championship and find my future wife in just an apron with the best cake i've ever had. sounds like the perfect way to celebrate." he pressed into you further, "sounds like heaven." he said with love in his tone.

you felt heat in your face as lando kissed your neck lovingly and you moaned when he touched your breasts. he said to you, "i love you so much." his voice a whisper, "i'll always come home to you." his words were like a promise and you felt the love for him grow in your chest.

"and i'll always love you." you replied and lando pulled away to grasp your hand and bring you towards the bedroom.

lando then draped an arm around you and peppered kisses on your heated face. he smiled against the apple of your cheek,"so warm, but you look so beautiful. you looked sweeter than that pie you made." he chuckled lightly.

his mind raced when he undressed you. the apron made his heart race, something lustful curled in his mind. you in a nice home, your degrees on the wall while you're in the kitchen making something nice and sweet for land. maybe a few kids running around, a perfect little life for the both of you. it made him shudder with want as he admired your soon nude form.

"my beautiful girlfriend, my everything." his hands cupped your breasts once your bra was on the floor. you looked him in the eyed and he licked his lips, "who allowed you to be so beautiful?" you defy words."

"no need to butter me up, honey." you giggled before you took off his sweatshirt and then his t-shirt. you hot him undressed just as he did to you. a pair of lovers on the bed as he softly made out with you. he admired you when he made enough room to look at your features. you looked back at him and cupped his face lovingly and the two of you giggled.

"how could someone become so special to me? i love you." he kissed you on the lips and you melted right into the kiss. the warmth flooded your core.

he got properly between your legs with your thighs up against his shoulders and his mouth close to your cunt. he licked his lips and eyed you from his position, "i love your baking, babe. but, i know another way to help you relax. this involves a lot less flour and eggs." he chuckled, "but still very sweet." he kissed your inner thigh before he dragged his tongue across your achy sex. he had a hunch you were a little pent up, because he was greatly pent up.

he held onto your thighs as he pleasured you. and while he loved all the treats you made. how you pour yourself into that form of stres relief. he actually preferred your slick cunt. he'd rather have your wetness stuck to his top lip than have icing up there. eat you out was an activity that excited him.

he'd happily overstimulate you until you came all over his mouth and all the anxiety in you was a distant memory. he groaned as he cock twitched in anticipation.

he wanted you so deeply. he yearned for you whenever you were apart. to know were safe mean the world to him. safe in the home you both shared. you were already like his wife and while he would like to propose that moment. you had a firm rule that you wanted your last name on your diploma. and lando wasn't going to deny you that. even if he worked his tongue across your pussy. he was left painfully hard as you as he pleasured you. he wanted you to feel amazing and he loved the taste of you on his tongue.

"i love you." he said softly with a groan as he continued to play with your clit. you held onto his hair and hissed through your teeth at the sensation. he knew you were feeling certain euphoria at that point.

"and i love you." you moaned, you could feel the leap in your pulse, "i want you. all of you. your tongue is amazing, but fuck, i want more!"

"i was thinking the same thing, beautiful." he groaned, "love tasting you, but i want you." he pulled away from your pussy and got up to his knees. his cock was painfully hard, "thought about you all the way home." he said with affection in his tone, "wanted to see you again." he soon sank his cock into you and he got your legs around him properly. he groaned at the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his hard cock.

you held onto the covers under you and gazed at the beauty of your lover as your lips spilled praise for him. how much you loved him, how much you yearned for him. "please, fuck, lando." you whined with an immense sexual desire. your breathing was beginning to get heavier, you could feel the stretch of heat through your body.

lando licked his lips as he continued to fuck you. he loved you, he adored you. you looked perfect with the shake of your hips as he pushed further into you. he swallowed then exhaled deeply. this was hot for him, you were hot for him. you felt like an angel under him. he worked your body and said to you, "one day." he held onto your hips and moved quicker, "i'm going to make you my wife. all mine, mrs. lando norris."

"fuck, babe." you shakily replied as you clutched the blankets tighter, "you feel so good, fuck."

"how could i not?" he asked nicely, "only the best for my future wife." he then laughed a little. he didn't say it in a possessive tone, but rather like he was saying a simple fact. yes, you were going to be his wife. he licked his lips and continued to move against you. he hunched over you as he worked your pussy, "fuck, honey. all mine." he felt the sexual excitement race through his body. he couldn't get enough of you, it felt too amazing. it fueled the fire in his soul.

"please, lando. it's not fair that you make me feel so good. fuck. it can't get enough of you, you feel like heaven. it's not fucking fair." you whined.

he chuckled as you squirmed under him.he could see the steady rise and fall of your chest as he fucked you with a steady rhythm. he could feel the sweat down his back and in his curls. he missed this, the immense want while his hips moved against you. fit together perfectly as he made love to you. there was no one quite like you. you were everything to him, from top to bottom.

fucking you was something only reserved for him and he liked it that way as he stroked his cock against your most sensitive parts. you knew you weren't going to last much longer. not with the steady yet hard thrusts of his hips. he could almost feel the thump of his heart in his ears. your cunt tightened around him and it made him feel a shudder in his bones. his eyes were hungry on you as his admired your heated yet beautiful body.

"i missed you every day. every win is for you, baby." he moaned. his pace was bullying down and he let himself feel the blooming heat, "can't ever get enough. i'm greedy for you, beautiful. more than anything. picking between your pussy and a trophy is a hard one." and he felt you clench around him. he moaned a little louder and held your hips tightly.

he cursed under his breath and your noises paired well with his. you felt the inferno through your body. you adored the feeling more than ever. lando leaned into you and pushed himself deeper then paired it with heated kisses. you clinged to his shoulders and felt the spike in your pulse. you tensed up from the pleasure.

you soon came with your hands held tightly into his strong shoulders. lando eyed your expression for a moment before he went for another hot kiss. you were soon chest to chest, kissing passionately as he continued his heavy movements. he soon finished inside of you right after you came. he pulled away to let out a heavy string of curses as he finished.

you held onto him for a moment and panted heavily. he loved the feeling, as did you. he slowed his thrusts to a stop and you two kissed once more until you were laid out next to one another. he admired you as you laid there tangled up in each other.

he shakily exhaled, "when you graduate, i'm going to get you the nicest ring i can get you. fuck, only the the best for you." his voice was heavy with pleasure.

you held his face for a moment as you replied, "how about you do something even better?" you whispered in his ear, "how about you win me the wdc this year?" then kissed his cheek.

he chuckled when you looked to one another again. he broke into a grin as he said, "for you, my dear, it'll be all yours." <3

[bloodyknucklesforme]

Red Summer | Ghoap x F!Reader | Slasher!AU

After breaking up with your long term boyfriend you take a job working as a camp counselor in Northern Vermont. Seven weeks of swimming, volleyball, archery and hiking. There's even a hot lifeguard. It seems perfect until you find something evil is lurking in the woods

Tags: Slasher AU, Ghoap x Reader, intro chapter, nondescript reader, dark fic

cw: vaginal sex, oral sex, dub vouyerism, gore

Chapter 2: Time After Time

previous| next

You had never had a nightmare like that before. Something so vivid and horrific. You kept running your hands over your stomach, expecting to feel an open wound or even a scar. It was nothing but smooth flesh with splatterings of freckles and stretch marks.  

You walked shaky legged into the bathroom, stripping down and stepping into the cold water. It all felt so real. You kept pinching your arms, thighs and stomach - making sure you’re real. That you’re not dead. That your insides are still on the inside. 

You heard your name being called in the main room. You shut off the water and wrapped yourself in the old fraying towel you brought. You grabbed a particularly heavy shampoo bottle to use as a weapon just in case. 

“There you are,” Johnny smiled with relief when you poked your head out of the bathroom. “Missed ya at breakfast… what’s wrong?”

He was alive. He was alive and standing in front of you. No blood on his hands or fear in his eyes. 

“I just had a really… really fucked up dream last night.” Your voice croaked. 

“Oh Bonnie. You’re okay. It was only a dream.” He opened his arms to you and despite not knowing him and being practically naked you accepted. He smelled like sweat and cheap cologne. “First day anxieties, yeah?” 

You nodded softly, choking back tears. It was just a dream and you were so fucked up by it. Your face heated up at how pathetic you were being. 

“You get dressed and I’ll grab you something to eat, okay?” He patted your back. At least you hadn’t dreamt up how caring he was. He made sure the door was shut before heading out. 

You went to grab your STAFF shirt and recoiled, remembering it was what you wore in your dream. You grabbed a different top and pulled on some old jean shorts. 

“It’s not high protein but I got ya instant oatmeal and a banana.” Johnny called through the door. “You decent?” 

“Yeah. I’m good.”

It was the kind with dinosaur eggs in it. You mixed it about till the eggs melted to reveal brightly colored sugared dinos. 

“We have orientation to do.” You said softly, eating another spoon full. 

“I told Warren we’d be a wee bit late. Said you found a snake in your cabin and needed me to rescue you.” He chuckled, bumping your shoulder with his. 

“Thank you,” you smiled meekly. 

“You want ta talk about it?”

“Huh?”

“Yer dream? What got ya so freaked out.”

“Oh… uh… it was like a movie. Just some man was going around killing people. He was wearing this skull mask and he…uh… he stabbed me.”

“Might have watched too many movies before getting here.” He rubbed your shoulder. “I promise if a masked killer comes running around I’ll keep ya safe.”

He waited with you until you finished eating. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him bite at his nails. Any time you looked at him he’d give you a soft smile that didn’t quite match the anxiety in his eyes. 

You made the motions to get through the afternoon, unable to shake the unease of deja vu. Sophia kept trying to open you up with jokes and little nudges and looks as the boys bonded. 

Every time Sophia or Warren explained something you thought “I know this already” which only made the knot in your stomach tighten. 

You felt calm once the four of you reached the lake. They were talking while you walked down the dock. The air felt cooler the further out you went.

You took off your shoes and socks and sat down to stick your feet in the water. 

There’d been a lake in your home town and during the warm months you used to ride your bike down to sit at the beach. It was more dirt than sand but that just meant it attracted less people. On the other side was the nice beach with lifeguards and playgrounds and paid entry. On your side  it was just you and the occasional fisherman. It was peaceful there and now with your feet in the water you felt that peace again. 

“Yer gonna get burnt.” You jumped at Johnny’s voice. He was standing a little ways behind you, bottle of sunscreen in hand. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya.”

He sat down next to you. His shoes and socks sat next to yours. You took the bottle and began reapplying to your arms. 

“You still freaked about that dream?”

“A little. It just felt so real… and I don’t know. Maybe I am just paranoid. I never really did camp when I was younger.”

“Sleeping somewhere new can always mess with ya head a bit. When I was in the army you slept when and where ya could. Never really felt rested.”

“Do you get nightmares?... I’m sorry that was stupid to ask. You don’t have to-” Your face felt hot. 

“I do. Sometimes. Took this job to get out of my head a bit.”

“Is it working?”

“No,” he laughed. “But there’s a whole summer left.”

“That is true.”

You laid back on the dock, letting the water lap against your shins. 

The two of you missed lunch but made it back for the rest of the day's schedule. The afternoon passed over easily. You tried to stay out of your own head but Deja vu kept tying knot after knot around your brain.

There were blisters on the back of your heels. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you applied band-aids for seemingly the second time.

You had minimal service but enough to get out a short text to Ale.

‘At camp. I might not be able to talk to you for a while but when I’m back I hope we can talk.’

It felt a little pathetic. He broke up with you essentially. ‘A break’ is what he called it. He was leaving for the Summer too soon enough. Helping out his childhood friend Rudy at his ranch down in Mexico. He originally wanted you to come with him. See where he grew up, meet his family and friends. You thought maybe there was a ring hidden among all those plans. You guessed you were wrong. 

You missed Johnny as you walked up to the dining hall for dinner. You didn’t really feel like talking but it was nice to be talked to sometimes. He was already seated with another girl. You felt a little twinge of jealousy. He’d spent most of the morning attached to your hip but it seems you were already forgotten. 

The unease of the day made you decline any invites to drink or sit by the fire. 

“I think I'm just gonna walk for a little bit. Just get some air before going to bed.

“I can come with you,” Nat offered.

“I think I’ll be okay. I’ll bring a flashlight. I’ll probably just go around the soccer fields and back.” There were a couple light posts out around the area. Not super bright but enough to find your way back.

It seemed to be tempting fate to go out alone. It also seemed to be the only way to knock this anxiety out of your head. Life wasn’t a movie. Masked killers were only in movies. If this was a movie you’d be in Mexico planning out an outfit to get engaged in. You were in Vermont as far away from Mexico as your credit card could take you. 

You did a lap around the soccer fields and you survived. 

You did another one just for good measure and you survived again.

You thought about doing a third but it was dark and your feet ached and you only wished to tempt fate so much. 

You could hear people yelling as you walked back to the cabins. Your arms and legs prickled. You weren’t close enough to tell if it was laughing or not. You turned off your flashlight anyway. You stepped off the path and walked on the grass to quiet your footsteps just in case.

Running footsteps came past you, the runner breathing squeakily as they disappeared into the dark. They were trying to be as quiet as they could, an animal running from a predator. Something out of a nature documentary when the herd scattered as the lion went for the weak. 

You crouched down as you made your way closer, keeping out of the light. Your flashlight was heavy; it could be a weapon if needed. Ale, had taught you how to punch before. 

This was a poor way to find out you were possibly psychic. You should have let Nat come with you. You hoped she and the other girls got away. Maybe you could find Johnny again. If he really did have a gun, you wouldn’t even need the keys. The flashlight could break the window of his car. He was trained for this. If you found Johnny you might survive.

The fire in the center of the cabins was still going, still bright enough to illuminate the carnage. Three bodies laid around with trails of blood leading in all directions. None of them looked like Johnny. 

You crept along the back of the cabins towards Johnny’s. There was a scream in the distance and your stomach flipped. You peaked around the corner. No one.

You winced as the door creaked open, checking around you once again for any signs of life. If Johnny wasn’t here maybe you could still find his keys. You didn’t know which car was his. But keys could fix that. Keys got the car which got you the gun. Simple. The parking lot was about half a mile away. You could sprint there. All those leg days at the gym with Alejandro would pay off. 

He had a backpack on the floor. Old paperbacks, sketchbook, pencil pouch, lighter, a pack of cigarettes, condoms, a folding knife (you put it in your pocket), a thong (jesus christ Johnny), and finally the car keys. 

The floor creaked behind you. You flipped on your heels, getting the knife out much faster than you expected to.

“Shhh, bonnie. It’s me. It’s me.” Johnny hushed, crouching down to show his face in the light. He was covered in blood. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

“You’re hurt…”

“Not mine. Was helping Nat out a window and… he got her.” You bit back a cry. She could have been with you right now. Johnny beckoned you over. “Let’s go. We can make it to the lake.”

“No.” You shook your head. “The gun in your car. I have your keys.”

“What gun?” He frowned, “I don’t have a gun.”

Idiot!

“It was my dream,” you bit back another sob. “Oh my god.”

“Hey, it’s okay. You have my keys? We can go but we have to go now.”

He grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet. “Don’t stop running.”

The two of you took off towards the parking lot. He was faster, more agile. You tripped over rocks and your feet were on fire. You heard larger footsteps running behind you. Your heart beat matched your steps. Just keep running. Don’t stop.

Johnny ducked down ahead of you. You weren’t sure why until it hit you. A razor thin wire cut across your throat, having been tied across the path. How did he see it? You hit the ground hard, throat open and gushing. You gasped as blood filled your lungs. It’d cut deep.

A pair of boots stopped one on each side of your head. You glanced up. The skull faced man from your dream. You couldn’t even whimper before an ax came swinging down to split your face in two. 

You screamed, rolling out of bed and thrashing about in your sleeping bag. Sophia came running in from the bathroom. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, helping you up. You couldn’t breathe. Hyperventilating hard, your legs couldn’t even hold you up anymore. Sophia had to drop you onto the bed. You couldn’t form words just open and close your mouth like a fish as you struggled to get enough air. Your body felt tight and disconnected from the rest of the world at the same time. “I’m gonna get help, okay?”

You heard her run off, your eyes glued to the old wooden ceiling. You could still feel it, the wire across your throat. The way your skull split open. 

More footsteps. A hand wrapped around yours.

“Hey, bon. It’s Johnny. I’m right here. Sophia, can you get her water? Thank you.” The door opened and closed again. Johnny climbed up on the bed beside you and helped you sit up, shouldering your body weight on his side. “Try to match my breathing. In…out…in…out. There ya go.”

You followed, your shoulders relaxing as more air traveled through your lungs.

“Good girl. That’s it. Just keep breathing like that. Try squeezing my hand as you breathe, focus on that. Yeah, that’s it. Good job.” His hand was real, it was here, it was wrapped around yours. You smelled his cheap cologne, felt the heat of his skin against yours. He held some little white disc up to your mouth. “You like mint? Just suck on it. Always helps me.”

You opened your mouth and he laid the mint on the edge of your lip, holding his hand out in case it fell. It was peppermint, reminded you of Christmas and toothpaste. 

As your heart calmed, your embarrassment flared up.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“Nothing to be sorry for, bonnie. I know what a panic attack is.” He rubbed your back. “Do you want to talk?”

“I don’t know what’s going on. It’s like I’m having dreams within dreams.”

“What do you mean?”

“Today’s sunday?”

“It is.”

“In my dream it was sunday but in my dream i’d woken up from another dream where it was Sunday. And…and each time there was this man and he…he killed me.”

“Steamin Jesus.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “That’s awful. I get why you’re so freaked.”

“I’ve never had anything like this happen before. It just felt so real. And you were there. Both times we were trying to escape and he got me. It sounds like a fucking movie or something but he got me. He wears this skull mask and he has an ax or a machete. Everyone was dead.”

“Shhh, it’s okay. Don’t work yourself up again. S’just a dream.” He took a deep breath at the end. “S’just a dream.”

Sophia let you spend most of the day inside your cabin with Johnny. 

“Just try to relax. Anything you missed, we can go over later. I promise it’s not that big of a deal.” She squeezed your shoulder. She was kind enough to bring you breakfast. Dinosaur oatmeal, coffee in a styrofoam cup and a couple granola bars. “There’s better service in the parking lot if you want to call anyone.”

She meant Ale. He’d pick you up if you asked. Drive all day, you could spend that night in your old apartment. Despite everything you knew he still cared about you. How many years had you two been together again? It seemed like it would be forever. Maybe he missed you as much as you missed him.

“Thanks. I’ll remember that.” You smiled up at Sophia.

“Just holler if you need anything.” She took a quick glance at Johnny and then back to you, her voice getting quiet “or if you want to be alone.”

You turned away from her like it would stop your face from getting hot.

It was nice of Johnny to stay with you.

“Don’t want you to feel like yer alone,” he’d said. He was laying down on one of the camper’s bunks, flipping absentmindedly through one of the books you’d brought with you. He didn’t seem to actually be reading it. You could tell from the look in his eyes that he was elsewhere, like he was staring at the white spaces between the words rather than the words themselves.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” You offered. He perked up like a dog.

“With you? Absolutely.”

The two of you walked down towards the lake. You already knew the way. You weren’t sure how it happened but you were holding his hand the whole way there. The underpass was as wet and mildewy as it was in your dreams. You held on tighter to him.

You nudged him as you walked towards the dock.

“Race you.” You said, starting off towards the water.

“Ya cheated!” He called, laughing. 

There was something about the sound of running on a wooden dock that took you back to your childhood. Running with childhood friends to fly off the edge into the water. 

You ran till there was nothing under your feet, briefly gliding through the air until you hit the water, letting it engulf you till your toes touched the soft muddy sand at the bottom. Johnny landed next to you.

“You had a head start.” He laughed, splashing water at you. “Cheeky girl.”

“Figured I need it, considering your ex-military.” You splashed back, your handmade tidal wave coasting over his shoulders.

“C’mere.” He grinned, reaching for you under the water. He was a strong swimmer, diving beneath the water to pull at your ankles. You splashed him whenever he came back up for air, trying to make your way back to the shore, fighting against his attempts to pull you into deeper waters.

You liked water but hated sand. The way it stuck in every crevice and dried out your skin. It was only worse when you were wearing real clothes instead of a bathing suit. You didn’t mind it as much as you thought you did with Johnny rolling around in it with you.

He was straddling your hips, your hands locked together pushing against each other in a mock struggle. His wet shirt clung to his muscular chest and arms. The sunlight glimmered off the water droplets that fell from his mohawk. 

You let him push your hands to the beach on either side of your head. He was handsome, really handsome. And nice which was always a plus. The accent was also very hot. You always liked a man with an accent. 

You leaned up and kissed him. Short and sweet, really a peck more than a kiss. He tasted like lake water but what were you expecting? He kissed you back. It was hungry and passionate. You missed being kissed like this. His tongue swiping along your bottom lip till you parted your lips. 

He held your neck, keeping you close to him. His tongue in your mouth, his other hand moving to grip your waist. 

“There’s a hose round the back of the shed, if you want to clean up.” He had a wicked glint in his eye as he said that. 

“You’re sure no one will find us.” You asked, as he pressed you up against the back of the shed. 

“Promise. Just you and me.” He mouthed at your neck. 

You were slow to peel off your wet clothes. He didn’t rush, leaning against the wooden wall, his own shirt already stripped off. 

“Sorry, it’s nothing sexy.” You said, struggling to get your sports bra off. 

“You are very sexy,” he said hoarsely. He looked at you for permission before slipping his fingers under the elastic band of your bra and pulling it up and over your head. You crossed your arms over your chest. “Getting shy on me now?”

“I haven’t been with anyone except my ex in a long time.”

“We don’t have to do this. I’ll walk away if you-”

“I want to. I’m just…I think I might have forgotten how to do this.”

“We can be slow. I don’t think anyone will come looking for us. It’s lunch time anyways.”

You let him lead. Let him kiss down your neck and collarbone down to your chest. Let him take one of your nipples into his mouth. Your head hitting back against the wall as he pinched your other nipple. 

You could see his hard length pressing up against his shorts. It was big and made your breath hitch. How far would you let this go? You had no idea when the next time you could get laid would be. What about getting back together with Ale? What if he’d already slept with someone else? What if he hadn’t and wanted to know if you did? What if-

“Can I take these off you?” Johnny was knelt in front of you, tugging on your shorts. 

“Please,” you whimpered. He was quick to pull down the wet clothing. He laid a kiss to the top band of your panties.

“Wish I could say you’re this wet for me,” he chuckled. “Tell me what you want, bon.”

“Take them off, please.”

“Good girl.” The way he said ‘girl’ caused heat to rush to your core. He peeled them off you, helping you step out of them and your shorts before tossing them haphazardly over a wooden crate. He mumbled, “They’ll dry.”

He pushed your thighs apart gently. His breath was shaky against your core. Your eyes met, his glassy, blue and blown out. 

“You’re beautiful,” he grinned, lips glossy. He snapped his fingers, signaling for you to keep your eyes on his before he took your clit into his mouth. Your head hit the side of the shed with a dull thud, your eyes rolling backwards. He grabbed one of your legs and lifted it over his shoulder, snaking his arm around your other one to hold you steady. 

He slid a finger inside, curling it up to press against your g-spot. He was groaning against your pussy, almost liked he enjoyed this more than you did. 

He made you cum on his face as his fingers stretched you out. 

“There we go. Good girl.” He kissed the inside of your thigh. Rising to his feet, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Best meal I’ll have all summer, I think.”

You giggled, face feeling warm. 

“You’re pretty when you’re flustered.” He took your chin between his fingers and tilted your head up for a kiss. It was salty and warm. “You want to keep going?”

“Yes.” You didn’t want to sound desperate but your knees were shaking and you wanted him, more than anything else in that moment. He shucked his shorts off before pinning you to the wall with another kiss. His cock was hot and heavy, pressed between the two of you. 

He gripped the back of your thighs and hoisted you up. You wrapped a leg around his waist. He lowered you back down on his cock slowly, the head dragging against your walls. 

You moaned loudly, nails digging into his back. 

There was a snap. A stick breaking. Your eyes shot open, looking into the woods behind Johnny. You couldn’t see anything but that didn’t stop goosebumps from running up your body. 

“Hey, look at me.” He guided your head back to him. “It’s just us.” 

“Sorry, it’s just been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Had sex?”

“Had sex with someone I don’t really know.”

“I don’t bite unless you ask me too.” He grinned, still fully sheathed inside you. “If you want to stop just let me know, okay?”

“No… keep going. It feels good.”

“I’ll make it feel even better.” He nipped at your collarbone. 

He kept a hand on the back of your neck, holding your foreheads together, stealing kisses after any particularly loud moan he fucked out of you. 

The drag of his cock against your g-spot, his gentle coaching for you to touch yourself, his tongue in your mouth. It didn’t take long for you to build yourself up to another orgasm. 

“Want you to come on my cock. Need something to think about the rest of the summer,” He grunted. “Need to see that look on your face again.” 

“Johnny, fuck… Johnny please.”

He let go of your neck to push your hand away from between your thighs, forcibly taking over with fast circles around your clit. Your moans got higher, closer together, almost hiccuping in pleasure. Your head thudding against the shed, back arching as you came.

He kissed you as he pulled out and set you back on the ground. 

“Do.. do you want to finish in my mouth?” He groaned loudly, slowly stroking his cock. 

“Might not last that long if you keep talking like that.”

You sank down to your knees, his arm holding you steady. 

“So pretty,” he said, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip and tugging your mouth open. Somehow a blow job in the woods felt more intimate than sex in the woods. 

You took the head of his cock into your mouth, licking the precum off the slit. He held your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing against your cheekbone. It was a tangy mix of the two of you. You couldn’t take him deep, just towards the back of your mouth. It was enough for him to moan your name between curses though. He made a choking noise and filled your mouth. 

He rested his head against the shed as you wiped your mouth. 

“Sorry, meant to give ya a warning,” he chuckled. 

The two of you stuck close together for the rest of the afternoon. You were met with raised eyebrows from most and a knowing look from Sophia. It wasn’t judgmental, almost like they were congratulating you on conquering him. He was your arm candy. 

There wasn’t any of that expected awkwardness of sleeping with a coworker. Neither of you brought up the rest of the summer or what you would do after. You could both just enjoy each other’s company. Made it seem like you could move on from Alejandro. That it wasn’t the end of the world. 

Johnny had his arm around your waist at the bonfire, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. Blew out your flaming marshmallow when it started melting down the stick. From across the flames Sophia winked at you and gave an approving nod. You didn’t feel scared or anxious anymore. No nightmares could touch you. 

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you yawned. You and Johnny were some of the last ones out. He was pointing out the different constellations. Growing up in the suburbs, you’d never seen this many stars before. 

“I’ll walk ya.”

And he did.

The creak of the door closing behind the two of you. You wished Sophia wasn’t just a wall away. 

“Thank you for everything… today” You chewed on the inside of your cheek. 

“Can’t stand to see a girl like ya be upset.” He toyed with the end of one of your braids. “Can I kiss ya? Last one before those nosey buggers get here tomorrow?”

“Yeah, you can.”

He tasted like burnt sugar and beer. His hands on your waist, gliding up under your shirt to mold your skin around his fingers. The excitement of a secret summer fling made your heart sing. Something wild, adventurous and youthful. Something you’d missed.

There was a creak of floor boards coming from behind you. Johnny’s grip tightened around you.

“No!” He barked.

You turned just in time. It was happening again. The masked man. He had a machete in hand. In the light you could see the skull was sewn onto a black balaclava. Was it real?

Johnny shoved you behind him but Mask smacked him hard across the face, sending him to the floor. You screamed. 

“Run!” Johnny groaned, blood pouring from his nose.  

Mask grabbed your braids and yanked you backwards. Pain shot through your neck up to your scalp. He threw you onto the floor next to Johnny, knocking the wind out of your chest. 

“I’m sorry.” He groaned, his hand groping for yours.

The first hit of the machete put you into shock. It didn’t hurt as much as you thought. You screamed more out of the horror of hearing your sternum break and blood erupt from the center of your chest. 

“Simon stop!” Was the last thing you heard before the machete came down in the middle of your face, cracking your head like an egg against the counter. 

Sorry this took so long. Kinda had a depressive episode that made it nearly impossible to write 🤷🏼‍♀️

[shadowy-suitcase-herring-neck]

Tfw Your Little Brother Is an Undercover Assassin

Some wild pov for his reaction to the Yiga Wind situation and Wind also gets his Banana bread. :D I’ve kind of been focusing on Wind and Wild a lot for this au so hopefully next little Drabble can focus on someone else and Wind

———————————————————————

Wild couldn’t help but feel the sensation of dread build as he walked back to camp. And it wasn’t for the reason he expected when he had left to rescue Wind from the Yiga clan hideout. 

It had taken a lot of convincing for the rest of the Chain to let him go alone. Only the promise that he had a way to move safely around the hideout had tentatively convinced the rest of them. Especially since he stated it worked best when he was alone. 

He was prepared to find Wind tied up or locked away in some cell. Maybe a bit injured. He had been prepared to maybe have to keep it a recon mission so the rest of the hero’s could make a plan for all of them to infiltrate. 

He was definitely NOT prepared for a young teenager dressed in a strange Yiga uniform to jump down from the ceiling in front of him and throw his whole world out of orbit. 

Because of course that young Yiga had to be the very same little brother and fellow hero that he had been trying to rescue in the first place! And there he was, not trapped and not injured. Playing Tag with the other Yiga. 

Because Wind, cheerful cheeky little sailor Wind, was a YIGA. An assassin sworn to take down the hero, royal family, and possibly even Hyrule itself. Not to mention serves Ganon!

And said Assassin was like 14 and currently sleeping as he gave him a piggyback ride. Right back to several other hero’s Wind or Lukari (?) was apparently spying on.

The memory of how he had reacted when he figured out it was Wild beneath that mask. He was so happy. The familiar impish yet endearing smile when he had taken off the mask only served to deepen the uneasy feeling. 

This was all so… wrong. 

And what was he supposed to tell the others?? Would they believe the truth? If they did then what? Wind was their little brother. Why did things have to be so complicated! 

Was everything an act? Had wind only pretended everything? But the version of Wind back at the hideout still seemed to genuinely act like the Wind Wild knew. The little hero he cared so much about. Everyone did. 

But he had to tell them, didn't he? This wasn’t the kind of secret like Wolfie, or even the four sword. This was… dangerous. 

Wild wanted to pull his hair out in frustration. Indecision and anxiety continued to worsen with every step. 

The sound of someone shouting his name startled him so much he swore he jumped out of his skin. 

“Wild!” Twilight was running towards them. Concern clearly showing. The rancher slowed as he spotted Wind clutching to Wild’s back. “Is he.. ok?” 

“He’s fine. Only a few bruises.” Wild responded. He wasn’t sure how to say the next part. The words seemed to stick to his throat. 

“Oh thank Ordonia.” Twilight seemed to visibly deflate with relief. “I won’t lie. I was worried there's a chance we… well.. lost him.” 

Wild’s resolve crumbled. He couldn’t do it. He just… If he told them. No matter what happened next. They really would lose Wind. He would lose Wind. 

Wild was quiet. They made it back to the others and through the portal. He didn’t talk much except to answer some questions. Just said he was tired, and he was really. But theirs was a different sort of tired. 

Turned out several of the others had already gone through said portal and made a camp. Which was useful when Wild just wanted to flop into his bedroll and burry his head under a blanket. Which he did. 

He couldn’t shake the feeling he was making the wrong choice though…

————————————————————————

Wind woke to the sound of birdsong and rustling leaves. Which was strange since last he checked he was in a desert. 

He sat up confused for a moment before a faint recollection of a portal pushed its way to the forefront of his mind. Right. Hadn’t Wild said something about a portal? 

Speaking of… 

Wind glanced around, everyone but him and Hyrule were asleep. The traveler glanced up and waved at him from where he was standing watch. Wind waved back, trying not to look TOO cheerful for someone who had just gone through a kidnapping. 

But he was actually quite excited. The confirmation Wild was one of his own! It felt so good! 

wind redoubled his efforts in trying to identify which lump of blankets was the cook. Wild it turned out was splayed out on the ground next to the sailor. Looking like he was trying to imitate a starfish. 

The mental image made Wind bite back a sinker. 

Stealthily Wind moved his way to being crouched by Wild’s side without alerting him to his presence. He contemplated waking him… before promptly throwing his body on top of his sleeping companion’s stomach. 

Wild woke with a start and proceeded to curl in on himself with a wheeze. Oops. 

“Wind- why??” Wild asked once he had seen the culprit of his incredibly rude awakening. Both vaguely aware of Rulie’s laughter from across camp.

“banana bread.” Wind stated matter of factly, a deceptively sweet smile on his face now that he was facing away from Hyrule. 

“…” Wild squinted at Wind. “Did you have to wake me up like this for that?” 

Wind only blinked innocently at the cook “No.” 

“Alright. Off.” Wild sat up, dislodging Wind from his place and sending him rolling onto the ground. Wind found this highly amusing. He grabbed a blanket before following Wild to the fire though. 

The cook was already setting up one of his portable cooking pots. He said they were Zonai devices of some sort, the capsules they came in intrigued Wind to no end. Always wondered if it could be replicated with Sheikah tech. 

As Wild was setting up Ingredients the sailor crouched down next to him still wrapped in his stolen blanket. “Can I help?” 

“Uhh. Sure.” Wild seemed a bit surprised by the offer. Wind was usually never up early enough to help with breakfasts so this usually didn’t happen. “Here, peel some of these. I'll need them.” He handed Wind a bunch bananas. 

Wind happily peeled the fruits, maybe sampling a bit. No one could prove anything. Wild walked through the rest of the steps, explaining the ingredients and such. Wind still wasn’t sure how he made a loaf with the cooking pot though. 

Maybe that was just a Wild thing. Wouldn’t be the first time he defied physics.

The bread itself was every bit as delicious as Wind had hoped. He might have burnt his mouth a bit trying to eat it too hot. So worth it, no regrets. 

All in all wind probably couldn’t be happier.

———————————————————————

Wild couldn’t help but laugh as he watched Wind desperately trying to cool his mouth while still refusing to just spit the hot food out.

This felt so normal. So nice. 

Maybe Wild could just keep the Yiga secret to himself for now. Wind hadn’t hurt anyone so it would probably be fine to wait for a better time. 

Right? 

[sturnsblogs]

Parental Instincts (or: Cat-Proofing Chaos)

Boyfriend!Nick x Florist!Julian

Word Count: 970.

Summary: Julian and Nick go shopping for all things cat-related, but Julian’s anxiety over being a “good cat dad” slowly starts to spiral. Thankfully, Nick knows how to bring him back down to earth—with kisses, banter, and a reminder that they’re in this together.

“You think this bed’s too small?”

Nick blinked, staring down at the soft, flower-shaped cat bed Julian was holding up. “Babe,” he said, tilting his head, “they’re like, six pounds. You could fold them into a hoodie pocket.”

Julian squinted at the tag. “Yeah, but what if they wanna stretch out?”

Nick stepped closer, hands tucked in his hoodie. “Then they’ll sleep on the couch. Or your pillow. Or my chest. You know they’re not even gonna use half the stuff we buy.”

Julian looked skeptical.

“We are literally spending hundreds of dollars,” he muttered, placing the bed in their already overflowing cart. “We are setting ourselves up for heartbreak.”

Nick leaned his chin on Julian’s shoulder, rocking them gently. “You’re spiraling.”

“I’m being responsible.”

“You’re trying to buy outlet covers in a pet store.”

Julian turned around. “You don’t think that’s important? What if they lick it?”

Nick blinked. “Why would they lick it?”

Julian didn’t answer. He just narrowed his eyes and grabbed a bundle of cord covers off the wall.

—

The shopping trip had started cute.

They were supposed to get basics: litter box, dry food, some toys, a couple bowls. But now it was an hour later and the cart looked like they were preparing for the arrival of royalty. There were climbing towers, cat tunnels, collapsible crates, three different flavors of treats, and a water fountain Nick was way too excited about.

Julian paced the treat aisle, rereading ingredients.

“Do we want grain-free?”

Nick was tossing a tiny banana-shaped toy into the cart. “Do we want grain-free?”

Julian turned, deadpan. “Okay. Do you want them to have explosive diarrhea?”

Nick snorted. “Okay, okay, grain-free it is.”

Julian was already scanning the shelf. “I don’t even know how much to feed them. Should we get one of those automatic food things?”

Nick leaned against the cart, watching him with a fond smile. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous. I’m being thorough.”

Nick stepped behind him and wrapped his arms around Julian’s waist. “You’re overthinking. Again.”

Julian exhaled, tension still in his shoulders. “They’re gonna be in my apartment. It’s not like it’s yours—”

“I live there like five days a week.”

Julian sighed. “Yeah, but still. I just want it to be perfect.”

Nick kissed the back of his neck, gentle. “It’s already perfect.”

Julian leaned back into his chest. “Even if I buy outlet covers?”

“I mean,” Nick grinned, “it’s a little dramatic. But very you.”

Julian elbowed him lightly and Nick kissed his temple.

—

They headed to the next aisle, where Nick immediately got distracted by a hanging toy shaped like a jellyfish.

Julian watched him shake it excitedly. “Do you think they’ll like this? It’s got feathers.”

“You’re like a toddler.”

“I’m a provider.”

Julian rolled his eyes and took the toy out of his hands to inspect the tag.

Nick smiled and pulled a hoodie sleeve over his hand, brushing Julian’s hair out of his eyes. “Hey, babe.”

Julian looked up.

“You’re doing a good job.”

Julian blinked. “I haven’t even—”

“I know,” Nick said, voice soft. “But you’re trying really hard. And I know that means something.”

Julian’s expression faltered, just for a second. The edges softened.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

Nick grinned. “Now pick out the stupid jellyfish, you coward.”

Julian groaned and tossed it in the cart.

—

Checkout took forever. Julian insisted on asking the cashier about different litter brands. Nick tried to discreetly sneak in two more feather wands. The cart looked like they were preparing for a feline apocalypse.

By the time they left the store, Julian was holding a list he’d made on his notes app titled CAT SAFETY RULES, and Nick was carrying two of the biggest bags like a pack mule.

Julian stopped outside the car, scanning the receipt.

“Do we need baby gates?”

Nick turned slowly. “For what, Julian?”

“To keep them out of the studio.”

“They’re not babies. They’re cats.”

Julian stared at the sky, dramatically stressed. “What if they eat the ribbon, Nick? What if they knock over a vase? What if they get stuck in the floral fridge?”

Nick leaned over the trunk and kissed his cheek. “Then we’ll get them tiny aprons and hire them full-time.”

Julian snorted. “This is why I can’t bring you shopping.”

Nick gave him a grin that could melt glaciers. “Yet you still do.”

Julian rolled his eyes, but he didn’t move when Nick kissed him again.

—

Later that night, they were back at Julian’s apartment, unpacking bags onto the floor.

Julian sat cross-legged, reading the back of the treat bags again.

Nick laid on the rug, staring up at the ceiling. “You know,” he said casually, “we’re gonna be so annoying about these cats.”

“We already are.”

Nick smiled. “Can’t wait till they ignore every expensive toy and sit in the Amazon box instead.”

Julian huffed. “I’ll cry.”

Nick turned on his side, watching him. “You’re gonna be the best cat dad.”

Julian didn’t answer. Just reached over and played with Nick’s hair.

Nick scooted closer, curling into his side.

And for a while, they sat there in the middle of the chaos — surrounded by toys and treats and overthinking — warm and soft, preparing for the loud, fuzzy, chaotic love that was coming their way.

A/N- YIPPIE.

[assortedvillainvault]

Hi! I was browsing the Lord Shen tag and found your blog 👀. I loved the headcanons for ShenxReader through the wolf henchmen's pov ❤️.

Would you mind sharing some headcanons but from the pov of the fluffy Lord peacock himself?

Hi Anon, thank you so much!!

I'm so sorry that my Lord Shen Masterlist slipped my mind - I'm fighting tumblrs atrocious tag search to find my previous writings for him and get them on there for you. In the meantime please - have some more!

Lord Shen x Reader Headcannons

- This stuck up, mithery, hairpin tempered ball of anxiety and condescension is officially your problem now. I mean. You chose this, so I’ll leave it to you as to what end of the bad choices scale you’re landing on, but man. You sure picked.

- I also can’t get over the fact that – in China and most of the East: white is associated with death and sadness, and mourning. You not only picked the unhinged genocide gun bird, you picked the only person in all of China to be literally born emo via albinism.

- I will get back to the above, but I’m mcfucking losing it over the image of Shen being. The smaller of the two of you.

- Like if you were a smaller creature he could properly get his elegant noble stride on, nose in the air and tail gently swishing behind him as he circles you, admiring every angle and relishing the nervous, excited little glances you give him. He might not be a strictly predatory species but he sure loves that thrilling edge of not-quite-stalking. He’s too high class for the genuine article, that’s what he has the wolves for.

- But if you had the audacity to be larger than him?!

- He’d grind his teeth if he had any. He wants so badly to intimidate you – making sure to step with an extra click of metal coated talons, words honey-barbed and sticky as he looks for chinks in your armour, having to crane his head back and up to look you in the eye and- look- could, could you just- just lean down? Lean down for goodness sake just- there. There. Lovely. As he was saying…

- Shen going to go bananas planning the perfect courtship. Everything must be. Exactly. As he plans it. God forbid you trip on the stairs. If you bribe the guards to move all furniture two inches to the left you’re going to have a great time watching Shen’s eyelid twitch for twenty minutes as he tries to figure out what’s ticking him off.

- Want a shortcut? Say nice things about his cannon. No seriously, it’s not a euphemism (though it could be-)

- The cannon is the culmination of Shen’s ambitions, the reason for his exile, the demonstration of ingenuity that set him apart. Seeing you run a hand smoothly over the intricate castings and complimenting his life's work is going to fill him with so many butterflies he’ll have the wedding ready by noon.

- Of course he does, underneath all the royal snobbery and sass, really, genuinely like you. More than he ever thought he could ever like another person. Go you.

- ...He can’t contain the terror that you might not like him back. Not because of all the murder, no, that’s clearly not the issue. But because he isn’t perfect enough for you. Because he’s not enough.

- Shen popped out of his egg all but rocking the 2007 bangs and MCR soundtrack of his time: born the colours of death in a house and species traditionally all the colours of the rainbow will have been like a self fulfilling prophesy – unspoken but not forgotten as he grew up and internalised his inadequacy by striving for excellence in literally everything else in life.

- Excellence in the form of weaponry, security, excessive control and genocidal ruthlessness. Combined with ingenuity, high intelligence and paranoia: all wrapped in a package of straining courtly manners and a need to constantly have the upper hand.

- You keep taking the fucking rug out from under him by reversing the script and being nice. Even his nanny (soothsayer, who has having a great time munching popcorn and giving incidental commentary) gives him shit and drives him up the wall – yet you’re out here, smiling (how dare you-) and- and saying he looks good (he knows, knows he looks sickly and out of place, a reaper amongst royalty-) and – of course you want to hand his hand really, who wouldn’t (who would?) - he’s fine, he’s fine-

- If he dared to let you go, he’d shatter like a discarded doll.

- How does it feel, reader, to hold the fate of all China in the balance of your smile?

[yeonmuse]

CHROME HEARTS ──but I break them still

❪ CHROME HEARTS ❫ nishimura riki & fem!rea 8OO+ w.c ⋆♱✮ fluff/angst ༯ university au ꫂ ၴႅၴ synopsis──★˙nainais library !! @k-films

℘an᭪ : written, texts & social media threads included in this chapter, welcome to my new tag-list recipients thank you for joining us on this journey.

CHAPTER 5 | banana milk

It wasn’t like he had been watching your every move or anything; he was just curious as to what your plans had been today. He wondered if you’d be spending time with your friends much like yesterday or if you’d be staying behind after class just as you had done the day before. He sat in his seat at the back of the lecture room watching as you absentmindedly scribbled little doodles onto a blank page, the tic of the clock nearby taunting him as he sat completely unaware of how today would play out. Though he wasn’t left wondering long, as the class had finally been dismissed and he watched as you stood from your seat, walked over to him and placed a banana milk on his desk. Niki hadn’t said a word though he stood there blinking at you as if you’d been some sort of figment of his imagination, resulting in you standing there awkwardly.

“Um..you were drinking one in class yesterday so..as a thank you…” your words drift off, each word coming out more faint than the other as you stand there awkwardly, waiting for him to say something, anything that would make this interaction less agonizing.

“Thanks.’’ he responds, taking the milk into his hand and shoving his straw in. finally you release an anxious breath that you hadn’t even known you were holding in. It wasn’t like he made you nervous or anything, but for as long as you could remember it was always hard for you to interact with anyone that wasn’t your family. Even then when you were younger it had been difficult to make friends and for the longest time you remained alone– just you and your art until your friends had come along. The task of giving im the milk had been hard enough, but knowing that this was the same person that had asked you on a date just days prior to today, made things all the more stomach turning for you

After he’d finally acknowledged you, you were ready to turn around and walk away, to let him enjoy his banana milk and get to work, but then you suddenly felt the urge to ask him something before the moment passed and social anxiety weighed in.

“Can I ask you something?’’ you force out, turning on your heels to face him again. Then he was looking at you again, with that same waiting gaze that had pierced through you the day he’d ask you out and immediately your throat ran dry. This was like giving a presentation to an entire sea of people, yet it had only been one, one person whose gaze held the weight of thousands.

“Why did you buy them? The oil pastels…?’’ you finally ask and as if he didn’t have to think about it he answers.

“Your others broke right? I saw you get frustrated over it and they looked like you had them a long time.’’ for a moment you stood there, silent and unmoving as if you’d been trying to wrap your head around what he’d just said. He had been that observant? You had never even seen him in class until that day, the day he’d asked you out, yet he seemed to have observed you enough to pick up even the slightest of details. It made you realize how your friends and your brother had been entirely correct. You seemed to completely drown out the world around you and lose yourself in this room.

After that the room had fallen silent just like the day before. Not another word shared between the two of you, nor had neither of you looked at one another. The only differing factor was that you sat completely aware today, aware of his presence, fully aware that within this universe of yours you were no longer the only one sat there.

For as long as you could remember art had been your safe place, your way of coping when your life seemed to take the worst possible turns. To you a pen and a paper had been like a portal, a gateway to worlds and dimensions that even the human imagination couldn’t fathom. It was a world you’d always traveled to alone, a world only you held the key to so why was he of all people breaking through the surface and forming tension.

It was because he saw you, even with the way you lost yourself to your art, even with the way you seemed to pay no mind to others..even after turning him down he saw you. And while that scared you, for some reason you liked it, you liked that someone had paid attention enough to see the things you thought had gone unnoticed.

Niki couldn’t help but smile as he stared at the empty milk carton on his desk, his gaze drifting to you. You who seemed to be deep in thought, gaze tied to the empty sheet of paper that sat on your desk, completely untouched.

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[panerasbox]

FOR THE LOVE OF LEARNING

Genre: College AU, Drama, Slice of Life, Romance, Comedy

Warnings: M for future chapters.

Summary: A documentary crew follows a group of future educators navigating the ups and downs of college life, friendship, and unexpected romances. From campus coffee runs to lesson plans and complicated relationships, this group proves that learning isn’t just about the classroom. follow along on ao3.💋

here’s an introduction of FOR THE LOVE OF LEARNING!!

If you want to be added to the tag list for future chapters, just let a girl know! 💛📚✨

I’ve been working on this fanfic for a while now, really shaping how I want it to play out and bringing all my ideas together. I hope it’s something you’ll be interested in following! I know I have a lot of WIPs going on, and I’ll get to them in time, but it felt like the right moment to finally release this one into the realm. let’s get into it…

Chapter One: Introduction

There’s a faint click. A red light blinks on.

“Okay. Rolling,” says someone behind the camera.

The campus of Philadelphia College of Education and Human Development buzzes in the background. Pigeons swarm a pretzel stand. A freshman cries on the steps of the registrar’s office. And in the middle of it all, sitting stiffly in a folding chair set up way too close to the student union, is Janine Teagues.

She smiles. Too hard.

“Hi! I’m Janine. Teagues. But people mostly just call me Janine. Unless they’re my professor. Or my boss. Or that one lady who yelled at me in the bookstore because we were out of laminated binder sleeves. Anyway… I’m a junior, education major, and future elementary school hero. I believe every kid deserves to be believed in. And I have five different Pinterest boards dedicated to classroom organization.”

She beams. The smile falters only slightly as a pigeon lands behind her and stares ominously into the lens.

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

Janine works part-time at the campus bookstore, where she has singlehandedly reorganized the bulletin board six times. She’s known around campus for her bright cardigans, color-coded planner, and tendency to carry around laminated affirmation cards. She’s a helper. Always has been. Even when no one’s asking.

Especially when no one’s asking.

Her best friend, roommate, and occasional walking anxiety spiral buffer is Jacob Hill.

Cut to Jacob in a tour guide polo, standing outside the library…

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

“Welcome to PCEHD! If you’re watching this, you’re either new, lost, or deeply invested in academic documentaries. Either way, I’m Jacob. He/him. I lead campus tours, run the progressive education zine, and last semester I singlehandedly organized a protest against vending machines that only carry sugary snacks. We’re still negotiating with administration. I don’t give up easy.”

The camera pans down to show his khakis are absolutely covered in chalk dust.

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

Jacob is passionate about making education accessible and inclusive. He once cried in a seminar about social-emotional learning and then offered everyone vegan banana bread. His friendship with Janine is the kind that still makes people whisper, “Are they dating?” which is wild, considering Jacob is very gay and very vocal about it.

They’re just the kind of soulmates who share highlighters and cry during teacher appreciation week.

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

Cut to the student café.

The camera zooms in on a sign that says “BREW CAN DO IT!” then pans over to Ava Coleman, lounging against the espresso machine like it’s a throne.

“I’m Ava. I work here, obviously, because they wouldn’t let me just sit and vibe. Which is honestly a violation of my rights. I’m also in the teaching program, not that I need it. I already know how to run a classroom. Or a campus. Or a small country. Take your pick.”

She sips from a mug that says “Espresso Yourself or Stay Basic” and flashes a grin that suggests she knows everyone’s secrets.

“Some people are here to get a degree. I’m here to get leverage.”

She winks at the camera. The manager yells something offscreen about her stealing biscotti again.

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

No one knows how Ava got into the education program. There’s a rumor she blackmailed a dean. Another rumor says she has compromising photos of the provost. What’s true is this: she runs the college’s social media pages, always gets her way, and makes Gregory do the afternoon shift alone when she’s “emotionally unavailable.”

Speaking of…

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

Cut to Gregory Eddie, cleaning the counter with intense focus.

“I’m Gregory. Junior. Education major. Coffee’s four fifty. We don’t take cash.”

There’s a beat. The interviewer tries to prod him into saying more.

He sighs.

“I like teaching. I think kids deserve consistency. That’s all.”

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

Gregory is quiet. But not cold. He’s the kind of person who says exactly what he means and nothing more. He’s on a scholarship, keeps a small succulent on the windowsill of his dorm, and drinks tea like he’s eighty. He’s also been slowly falling for Janine for a year and a half. He hasn’t told her. She hasn’t noticed.

It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

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

A few buildings over, in the advising office, two more chairs are set up.

Melissa Schemmenti is sprawled in hers, looking like she’s about five seconds from lighting a cigarette despite the clear “No Smoking” sign behind her.

“I’m Melissa. Grad student. Working in Enrollment Advising. Lifeguard at the pool. Podcast host. Former child. You get the idea.”

She crosses her arms.

“I’m not here to make friends. Except maybe one. Or two. But don’t quote me on that.”

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

Melissa is twenty-eight and has the energy of someone who’s lived five lives already. She took a break after high school, worked in a bunch of odd jobs, then came back to get her degree when she realized she was tired of yelling at kids in the neighborhood without a teaching license. She’s Philly to the bone, has three fantasy football leagues, and hosts a popular local sports podcast where she occasionally drops educational hot takes in between Sixers rants.

She also happens to be dating Barbara Howard.

Cut to Barbara, sitting in the second advising office chair, posture perfect.

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

“My name is Barbara Howard. I am a graduate student specializing in early childhood education. I believe in high standards, strong moral character, and getting things done the right way, the first time.”

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

Barbara is twenty-nine. She left a private Christian school teaching job to return for her Master’s after realizing she wanted more autonomy in her work — and maybe fewer PTA moms telling her what she could and couldn’t say. She’s organized, polished, and carries a pen that cost more than a month of Gregory’s rent. She’s also been in a relationship with Melissa for three years.

No one on campus knows.

Barbara says it’s “private.”

Melissa calls it “closeted.”

They compromise by telling people they’ve just been friends “since undergrad.” No one pushes. But Ava definitely suspects something.

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

As the sun starts to set over campus, the camera catches them all at once. Janine rushing across the quad, a stack of fliers flying out of her hands. Gregory picking one up for her without saying a word. Jacob standing on a fountain, trying to start a chant. Ava sipping a latte she didn’t pay for. Barbara and Melissa walking side by side, their hands not quite touching.

Just another day at PCEHD.

Where the lesson plans are still hypothetical, the drama is very real, and no one’s quite as put-together as they pretend to be.

Class is in session starting Monday, June 9th!

dividers by @strangergraphics

[bloodfin]

all those things that you desire

A fic for @anotherbananasong - the story of how Charon came to be, and how an unexpected source made Alpha think twice about walking away from the ones he loves the most.

Read on Ao3, or below the cut.

Words: 4.394

Warnings/Additional Tags: Set in the Banana!Verse; Everyone Needs A Hug; Hurt/Comfort; Child Neglect (IT GETS BETTER!! Not explicit, just know it's there); Angst With A Happy Ending, Self-Doubt, Anxiety, Spontaneous Summoning, The Language Of Flowers

“Test me if you like, ghoul.”

Sister sneers across her desk, arms crossed. Alpha’s voice catches in his throat, and flames begin to lick at the bond he shares with his mate -

Dewdrop’s tear-streaked face blinks into view before Alpha feels himself falling,

falling,

falling.

Alpha jolts awake in a cold sweat, scrambles to sit upright and pushes half his nest apart to get there. He wraps his arms around his knees as tears start to gather at the corners of his eyes, heart pounding so hard he can feel it in his ears.

“Just a dream,” he mutters to himself, wiping at his eyes. “Just a stupid -”

There’s a firm knock at Alpha’s door that has him glance at his clock, grumbling as he struggles to pull his veil into place and dry his eyes at the same time.

“Frater would like to see you at two o’clock this afternoon,” a little quintessence ghoul says with a tilt of their head. Alpha feels like he should know their name, but he can’t quite find it in his groggy brain. He nods, and with a purple flash the ghoul has disappeared, leaving him alone.

‘Alone.’

Alpha sighs, looking back at his room. His empty nest, where he should be. He starts to pick at his nails, trying to figure out how to pass the next three hours.

He thinks of trying Air, but his face throbs at the memory of the last beating he got from Earth. And he’s trying to be more respectful, really. With a heavy sigh he slumps into his nest, trying, and failing (‘like you do at everything else,’ his mind helpfully supplies), to not think about the last time he stood before Frater.

Frater had called out his cruelty, and he panicked, thinking he would be sent back to the pits. That Dewdrop would be sent back. They’d never be safe, they’d never have the life Alpha wanted. Despite the changes Frater made, the raised doorways and larger rooms and the whole addition Frater organized, Alpha still felt Sister’s cold fingers wrapped around his heart. He couldn’t help but be jealous of Earth and Air, doting on sweet Astra in their rooms above the catacombs.

Alpha is the only one left, roaming the empty halls. He could go up the stairs. Sit and braid Dewdrop’s hair, hold his hand, maybe even kiss him -

No.

Alpha could feel his imagination running away from him again, that irritating spark of hope starting to light deep in his prefrontal cortex. He can’t let himself hope, he has to protect Dew. At all costs.

‘It’s always going to be the same.’

And so Alpha paces, back and forth, the same path he always took while everyone else slept. Counting down the seconds until his summons.

-

With a deep breath, Alpha straightens his veil, and raises his fist to knock on Frater’s door. He hears that heavily accented enter and slowly walks in, gently closing the door behind him.

Copia gestures to the seats in front of his desk, but Alpha simply shakes his head once, unable to lift his eyes from the floor. Copia hums and stands, rounding his desk to lean against the back of a chair.

“My ghoul,” he says softly, “I wanted to apologize.”

Alpha is sure his ears aren’t working properly.

“What?”

“The last time you were here, you left upset,” Copia explains, gently speaking with his hands. “I understand that I truly know nothing of the things that happened under Sister, but I want to make it clear that she and I are not the same.”

Copia takes a deep breath and a step closer to Alpha, who looks so small despite towering over the man.

“I want you to know that you are safe here, but I also must protect each ghoul in my care, and that includes my Dewdrop. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Frater.”

“You need not be afraid of me. I only asked if you would be happier in the pits because I want my ghouls to want to be here, and if you’d rather go home, it can be arranged at your request.”

Alpha feels his lip tremble, traitorous water filling his eyes.

“No, papa, I wish to stay.”

‘What are you even staying for, you're weak.’

“Then I am glad you will be here,” Copia says gently, taking another step forward before putting a cautious hand on Alpha’s elbow. “But, please, be kind to my Dewdrop. And the others.” He pauses, gives Alpha a gentle squeeze. “And yourself.”

‘Look at you, about to cry, little bi-’

Alpha knows better than to make empty promises, so instead he slips out the door with a nod of his head, racing back to his room.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when he gets there, surprised to see Dew in the middle of his room.

“Mm, hi,” Dew waves shyly, before shoving his hand back into his pocket. “Been a while, since I've seen you and,”

‘Since you used him last’

Alpha blinks the thoughts away, listening to Dewdrop ramble for a moment longer.

“Anyway, I wanted to see if you might want to go up to the garden for a walk? With… me?”

“Yes,” Alpha agrees quickly.

Dew blinks at him a few times before beaming, excitedly pulling at his hand to guide him up and out of the catacombs, wholly unaware of the conversation that just took place in Frater's office.

‘He deserves better.’

-

Alpha can't help his smiling, watching Dew point out Mountain’s new additions to the garden.

“See look! There's the uh. The. Mm. Tatcha? Tacca.”

Dewdrop taps his finger to his lips, thinking hard before snapping in recognition.

“Tacca chantrieri! They're also called the black bat flower, which is fitting, considering who Phantom is.”

“Ah, yes, the little quint,” Alpha hums, filing the name away again for the next time he sees them.

“And over here are the red hot poker plants he planted for Rory,” Dew continues, showing Alpha the vibrant orange-to-yellow ombre blooms.

Alpha stops, taking in an interesting planters box, filled with white gladiolus and delicate Lily of the valley. He also spots bells of Ireland and some green, round, fuzzy things.

“Ah,” Dewdrop returns to his side, hands stuffed back in his pockets. “Earth made it, for him and Air. Pretty, right?”

Alpha blinks, registering some movement off to the side. He sees Rain a few feet away, adding some yellow flower to a little pool of water poppies and foxfires, and bites the inside of his cheek.

‘Even coral for brains can show he cares more than you.’

“Why don't we head back inside, Dew.”

Dew nods, stepping over a weed filled planter. It looks like it was blue at one point, the sheen cracking through a mix of goldenrod yellow and a deep red. Painted recently enough, a small firecracker plant peeking through the dried grasses.

He doesn't try to take Alpha's hand this time.

-

Dew sits up in Alpha's nest, a thin blanket thrown over his lap.

“I should probably get going,” he sighs, and Alpha stares at the ceiling.

His veil is on the floor and a red bruise is blooming under his collarbone. He thinks if he pushed into it with all his might it would hurt less than watching Dewdrop walk away again.

‘You don't deserve him.’

“You,” Alpha clears his throat, slides his hand over to rest on top of Dew's.

‘You'll never be able to protect him.’

“You don't have to go.”

He opens his arm then, a warm space for Dew to curl into. He takes the invitation without much hesitation, settling into Alpha's side with a rusty purr. He smiles, Dew’s scent filling his nose, and he finally lets himself drift into a peaceful sleep.

-

Rain leans in Dew’s door frame, watching him flit about. Tosses a piece of trash here, shelves another book there, stops by the top of his dresser to dust the garnet Aether had given him last Yule.

“New sheets?” Rain nods in the direction of Dewdrop’s nest, draped in deep red.

“Yeah,” he smiles, barely pausing.

The corner of Rain’s mouth lifts and he slides across the room, peering over the edge.

“Looks soft.”

“Mm.”

“Wanna take a break? I’ll do the wash.”

Dew finally looks over at him, hair tossed over his shoulder. His smile flattens for a moment before he goes to stand next to Rain, leans his head on his shoulder.

“Hey,” he murmurs, curling his pinky over Rain’s. “Rainy, I…”

“Did Alpha hurt you again?”

Rain feels anger bloom warm in his cheeks, torn between leaving Dew’s side and staying to hold him. He thinks perhaps he should voice his intentions, a challenge, because Dew doesn’t deserve to be treated like that all the time. He should be with someone that holds him close, whispers his name in the darkness, someone that -

“Alpha’s moving in.”

“He’s what.”

“He loves me,” Dew smiles, squeezing Rain’s hand. “Made that candle over there, the one that matches my eyes. And said he loves me. So many times.”

“He… loves. You.”

Rain can feel his pulse quicken, something like dismay and anger and jealousy all mixed together as he pushes down the bile rising at the back of his throat. “And you’re sure? About that?”

Dewdrop looks up to face him, eyes shining with pure joy.

“He wants to be exclusive for a bit. Strengthen our bond, you know?”

Rain clears his throat.

“Ah. Hence the uh, the cleaning. And soft red sheets and all.”

“Mm.”

“I’ll let you,” Rain clears his throat, growing steadily more uncomfortable. “I’ll let you finish up in here, then... I’m. I’m happy for you, droplet.”

Dew wraps Rain in a tight hug, nuzzles into his chest for one more indulgent moment.

“Thanks, Rainy, I know it’s tough but this is important to me. To us.”

Rain pecks the top of Dew’s head, humming his acquiescence.

“Just don’t forget about me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dew nods, pulling away. “I could never.”

Rain smiles tightly before exiting the room, stomping down the hallway to find Aether. An outrage, he thinks. Maybe it’s regret, he’s feeling, not making his intentions known sooner. Trying to be romantic with his floating garden, trying to find the right time.

When he can’t find Aether in any of his usual places he huffs, remembering he was on call for the infirmary. He grumbles a bit before heading to the new ghoul wing, poking his head into different rooms.

“Looking for someone?”

Rain stands up straight, a chill running down his back when he feels a large presence looming in the shadows behind him. If Aether is on call and in the infirmary, then that must mean…

“They’re with Mountain.”

Rain snaps his head around, fangs dropping a fraction. “Again? I told him that’s mine -”

Omega hums, a haunting sound. “Delta is not a thing to be owned. Come with me, little one, we have much to discuss.”

Rain gulps, finally putting a name to the feeling he had all along.

Fear.

-

“My ghouls! Thank you for joining me for this meeting. It is my understanding that some of the spaces in the ministry are still not easily accessible to our erm… taller counterparts, is that correct?”

The meeting room is filled with a handful of ghouls from all eras, whoever could come by at the last moment. Frater had heard that some spaces, like the kitchen and hall baths, were a bit, well, small.

“I smacked my head trying to get into the east wing bathing chambers, the pools are deepest there,” Lake grumbles, rubbing his hand over his brow. Aether pats his hand and gives him a soft look.

“Yes, I see. Well, perhaps if we expanded the doorways first then - uhm?”

Copia blinks a few times at the sound of fizzing, and looks up to find a portal spinning into existence.

“I didn't… did I?”

He quickly checks the ground, makes sure he's not standing in a summoning circle somehow. Makes eyes at the ghouls scattered around the room, all of them shrugging and looking just as confused.

Last time this happened was when Swiss came through and -

There's the tail. The horns. Small, sharp little things.

A chubby cheek, and he's tumbling right into Copia's outstretched arms.

“Well. Heh. Hello, I suppose.”

The tot quirks his head to the side, blinks at him with wide owl eyes.

“What am I to do with you?”

“We'll take him.”

Every set of eyes lands on the typically brash fire ghoul, his mate looking between him and the child with eyes of his own growing bigger by the second.

“Are you. Alpha, are you sure? This is. This is a big deal, love.”

Alpha nods, taking a few short steps to collect the boy from Copia, who is still terribly confused.

“I've always wanted to name my son Charon.”

Dew squeals, bunches his fists under his chin and runs in place for a moment before throwing himself around Alpha and their new son.

“We need to go find Air! Astra has a friend!”

Alpha nods curtly before glancing at Copia, bowing his head in brief thanks.

“Erm. I guess we should build a full size nursery, then?”

Aether and Lake share a glance at each other before looking back to an astounded Copia.

“Someone should tell Rain about this.”

-

“Look at this little guy,” Alpha smiles, settling into the nest with Dew tucked into his side.

“Yeah, sweet baby,” Dew coos, pinching his little foot. “Charon, huh?”

“Yeah,” Alpha says, blushing across the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t sure if I’d ever have kits, but I always loved that name. Just… felt right. You know?”

“I know,” Dew says, kissing Alpha’s nose and then the top of Charon’s head. “I know.”

-

Days of domestic bliss pass, and then Dew and Alpha decide it’s time for Charon to meet the other kit, Astra. As cautious new parents they wanted to make sure he didn’t have any illness from the pit that could be passed to the other baby, neither wanting to face Earth if his precious girl became ill.

They meet in the commons, sitting on a long couch, feeling about as awkward as they all look. Alpha and Earth at opposite ends, their respective mates sandwiched between with the kits. It’s all smiles, though, when the babies catch sight of each other and begin to interact. Charon laughs as Astra sucks on her toes, Astra points to Charon’s long tail as he flicks it back and forth. His eyes are bright as he watches her follow the movements.

Dew and Air pass the time talking, neither seeing the other much lately. Air’s heart is so full, with his mate, his baby, and his friend at his side. He even extends a greeting to Alpha, nudging Earth’s knee when he hears the low growl start to rumble in his chest. Earth crosses his arms and sinks further into the couch, keeping his eyes on the babies, patently ignoring the impulsive fire ghoul.

When the time comes to part ways, Dew gives Air a quick hug and ruffles Astra’s hair. He and Alpha link tails before leaving, not quite making it out of the room before Earth speaks.

“Charon’s cute,” Alpha hears, and he can’t help but smile. “Feel bad for him though.”

Earth pauses, turning his head slightly to make sure he is heard. “Having Alpha as a father will ruin him.”

“Earth,” Air admonishes, scolding him for saying such a thing. The door slams and Alpha’s smile drops as he slowly follows behind Dew, thoughts he hadn’t heard for days suddenly filling his brain.

‘You don’t deserve to have a kit.’

‘You’re cruel, and the kit deserves better.’

‘Selfish.’

‘Selfish.’

‘Selfish.’

-

“Alpha, why don’t you want to hold him anymore?”

‘Don’t deserve it.’

Alpha shrugs, grunts as he bends to pick up a toy and places it back on the shelf.

“It’s been days,” Dew laments, fighting back tears as he silently begs his mate to just turn around and look at him. “He misses you. I miss you.”

“We need more charcoal,” Alpha grumbles, walking out the door as Charon starts to wail. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Dew tries not to let the tears fall, doesn’t want to let Charon see. Somehow, he thinks it would’ve hurt less if Alpha had just slammed the door instead of closing it softly.

Alpha trudges down to the kitchen, feet dragging against the polished stone of the ministry floor. All he hears is Charon crying, and it pulls at his heart. But his head doesn’t agree, flying down the road of self doubt at hypersonic speed.

‘You’re not good enough.’

‘Not strong enough.’

‘Not enough.’

He sighs as he opens the door to the kitchen, finding it quiet at the late hour.

Quiet, except for a lone, curly haired water ghoul sitting hunched over a cup of hot tea.

Rain lifts his head, and Alpha swears he sees some of Dew’s fire flash in his eyes.

“What are you doing down here?” Rain is trying, and failing, to keep his upper lip from curling.

“Could ask you the same.”

“Shouldn’t you be with your family?” Rain is hissing now, fighting to keep his fangs from dropping any lower.

“Need more charcoal.”

“Sure,” Rain huffs.

Alpha is about to open the side of the large wood burning stove but stops, turning to face Rain with a dark expression.

“What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem?” Rain counters, rising to his full height, even though the top of his head barely reaches Alpha’s chin. “You do know my room is next to Dew’s, don’t you? I can hear every time Charon cries for you. Every time Dew cries for you. Every time you walk out the door and go wherever it is you go, to do whatever it is you do, leaving the people you claim to love so much to suffer.”

Alpha feels a growl building in his chest, flexes his fingers into a fist as he approaches the surprisingly brash little ghoul.

“This your challenge, then? Are you gonna run and go get him, show him what a big strong ghoul you are?”

‘Unlike you.’

Rain holds up a flat hand, and Alpha feels fire build in his fingertips.

“You can call it a challenge if you like, a challenge for you to do better.”

“Like you’d know anything about treating a mate right -”

Rain sighs, bites his lip, and drops his hand. He wraps an arm around himself and shrugs.

“I know,” he agrees. “But you need to do better. Dew and Charon need you. They chose you. Shouldn’t you choose them too? And if you aren’t going to choose the two of them, you need to let them go, so they can be with someone that does.”

Alpha has trouble picking his jaw off the floor.

“You sound a lot like Omega.”

Rain just shrugs, the fight burning out of him as quick as it started, and he turns to place his mug gently in the sink.

“Where are you going, I’m not done with you -”

“Please,” Rain scoffs, hand on the doorframe as he looks over his shoulder at the simmering ghoul. “Not that it’s any of your business but I’m going to meet Delta, to apologize. The Ministry has had enough shitty mates, don’t you think?”

“But you’re not -”

Alpha’s voice dies in his throat as Rain’s tail swishes out the door, leaving him to sit in uncomfortable silence with the first intelligent words he has ever heard come out of Rain’s mouth.

‘Even coral for brains can stand up for you. So weak you can’t stand up to yourself.’

Dew and Charon did choose him. They choose to love him, to keep coming home to him, even when he acts like a complete and total ass. Alpha can’t even begin to believe it, but maybe… maybe Rain is… right?

He runs back to the stove and gathers as much charcoal as he can carry, mind racing.

If Dew and Charon can choose him, can believe in him, can love him… maybe he can love himself, too.

-

When Alpha makes it back to Dew’s room, his room, he finds Dew fast asleep in their nest, Charon tucked under his chin and pressed tight to his chest. Their purrs are sweet, calling him to come and lay down.

He sets the charcoal in the basket and toes off his shoes, undoes his habit. He gets to the edge and adjusts the blanket over Dew’s feet - he hates sleeping with his toes out.

And he wants, so badly, to crawl into the nest, to pull Dew to his chest and kiss the back of his head and ruffle Charon’s hair. But he stops, steps back. Chooses the rocking chair instead, because the chair won’t push him away.

It’s hard to accept that Dew wouldn’t either, but just the possibility that he might makes him afraid. He pushes his palms to his eyes, refuses to cry, Rain’s words echoing in his head.

‘Shouldn’t you choose them too?’

He wants his family, he wants to be the ghoul they deserve.

But how?

-

Dewdrop rises with the sun, as he always does. He blinks a few times, pets at the back of Charon’s head before pressing a kiss to his soft hair. He sees Alpha sitting in the rocking chair, awake with dark circles under his eyes.

“You’re back.”

“Of course.”

Dew doesn’t have a cruel bone in his body, and lifts his hand in invitation. Alpha feels his heart accelerate.

He thinks you’re weak.

“You look tired, come lay with us?”

Alpha swallows hard, focuses on keeping his claws retracted, to not damage the furniture.

“I - uh.”

Dew sighs, and Alpha swears he sees his light dim. The gentle golden glow that seems to follow Dewdrop wherever he goes, that same light he swore to protect the moment he mated him.

And now it’s fading, because of him.

Dew rolls to his other side, facing away from Alpha, keeping Charon protectively against his chest. And as Dew, his love, whispers sweet nothings to the next greatest gift Hell has ever given, he can’t find the strength to stand.

Instead he lets hot tears burn track marks into the skin of his cheeks.

-

Alpha’s throat is tight with anxiety, though his tone could probably be confused for anger.

“He won’t stop crying,” he says to Dew, watching him place Charon into his crib.

“He needs you, Alpha, can’t you hear him?”

Of course, he can. His cries constantly fill his head, mixed with his own anxiety, his own self-inflicted cruelty. His fear, that he wouldn’t be able to protect the little family he always wanted, but never thought he’d get to have.

The same family Sister threatened to tear apart.

The same family he’s tearing apart himself, right now. Some sick, self-fulfilling prophecy.

“Dada,” Charon yells, tears streaming down his little face. “Dada, uppies, Dada, p’eas!”

Dew’s chin quivers as he tries to hush Charon, kneeling at the side of his crib.

“I can hold you, baby.”

Alpha has his hand on the door handle, ready to walk out. Part of him feeling, knowing, that if he walks out the door this time, it won’t open so easily again. He takes a deep breath to steel himself. He’ll never have what he wants.

‘You don’t deserve it.’

“Dada!”

He can’t keep his family safe, and if he can’t keep them safe -

‘You don’t deserve it.’

“Dada, p’eas!”

“I’m here,” Dew whispers, fingers through the bars of the crib, trying to break Charon’s line of sight, a distraction. But he’s a determined little thing - he crawled out of the Pits, after all.

“Dada!”

Alpha’s resolve to not look breaks, and he turns his head over his shoulder. He doesn’t deserve the love this baby is trying to give. He can’t give him the love he deserves, because of the way he is. His mate deserves better. His son, deserves better.

But still, Charon calls for him. Chooses him, of all ghouls.

Dew’s light fades a bit more, and Alpha bites at his tongue.

‘He needs me.’

He takes a step towards Charon and sees the corner of his mouth turn up in a smile. One more step, and Charon stills, arms reaching out towards him.

When he steps closer again Dew turns too, tears matching Charon’s. Holds his arm out as well, another invitation. He thinks of the way Air talks about Earth catching their kit, Astra tumbling from the portal straight into his arms, accepted and loved.

Despite every time Alpha turned him down, turned him away, used him, and walked out, Dew is there waiting to catch him, with open arms. Accepted, and loved.

Accepted and loved.

The pure love that can only come from a child, untainted by anything the world could offer. The joyful sounds of his baby’s laugh, his soft feet and kissable cheeks. The way Charon’s little nose crinkles when Alpha used to make silly faces at him. The way he clung to Alpha’s habit the first time he saw Dew in his uniform.

Accepted and loved.

It doesn’t take Alpha long to cross the room then, to pick Charon up with one arm and pull Dew from the ground with the other, crushing them both to his chest.

He cries now, too, openly. Accepted and loved.

He knows it won’t happen overnight, but he can try. Try to be worthy of both of them, to be the best father he can. To hold Charon close, and make up for every time he walked away. Someday, Charon may not remember this. But Alpha always will.

Charon curls against his broad chest, rumbling with purrs as he starts to drift to sleep.

“It’s all he wanted,” Dew smiles, resting his forehead on Alpha while he rubs small circles into Charon’s back.

“Never again,” Alpha promises, and Dew squeezes him a little tighter. “I’m sorry -”

“You’re here now,” Dew smiles, his rusty purr joining Charon’s. “And you still look tired. How about that nap?”

Alpha’s mouth quirks up in a smile.

“Alright,” he agrees. “But I’m keeping the baby.”

[sideysvault]

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖‧ Innocent echoes ࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖‧

Pairing: Roman Roy x fem!OC.

This fic is based on the work of the wonderful and talented @beechu-beechu, this story is all based on her OC, her beautiful illustrations and her story ideas.

wc: 1,200k

Tags: [sfw] Mature themes, Parental abuse, Suicidal ideation, Childhood friends, friends to lovers.

────────

Before getting inside the bush Roman looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching. It was five past six, still early in the evening, in a town in upstate New York. Inside the confines of the Terrace Room, yet another shareholder meeting was taking place. Outside, the extravagantly lit patio seemed peaceful enough.

The expensive setting, however, couldn’t hide the ghostly profile of the building against the sky. Echoes of the chatter inside could still be heard, barely, seamlessly merging with the chirping noise the crickets were beginning to make. Murky and gloomy, yes, but there was nothing in sight to fear.

With a new-found determination, the one stride of confidence that not being seen always gives you, Roman took a deep breath. He tried to concentrate on the nice earthy odor filling his lungs as he crawled under the bush.

The little rabbit, with its pristine white and as innocent as it looked, seemed to have a life of its own; Escaping from his grip, laughing at his inadequacy, forcing him to go further inside the wooden warren, forcing him to drag his limbs through the recently sprayed dirt.

The contained gasps that were coming out of Cecilia weren’t helping either. Roman felt the pressure to save the stuffed animal stirring in the pit of his stomach. It did not even matter if she could buy a hundred bunnies just like that one, CeCe’s earnest anxiety made him let go of his initial precautions and convinced him to push his face against the rootstock. With that move, Roman was finally able to grab the damn thing.

When he crawled out of the bush, all it took for him to know was one glance at his white trousers.

His father was going to kill him.

Rome almost forgot about the inevitability of the reprimand as soon as he felt the girl’s tight grip around his neck, as soon as he could smell how nice her perfume was. At the end of the day, that was all that really mattered. It had been worth it. Cecelia had given him the most sincere hug he would ever receive, and he was the one who got her plushie back to safety.

With all the tension suddenly off her shoulders, Cece was laughing all of her worries off, suddenly in a good mood now. She hugged him one more time, and thanked Roman for finding her bunny.

“Keep an eye out on your stupid rabbit”

────────

Cece and Roman were hiding inside the bathroom hall. Logan had taken a swing at his son’s face in front of everyone: Cecilia’s family, businessmen, the staff, and other clients. Roman had made the terrible mistake of ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.

The girl had initially thought a few meters and some walls may be enough to calm Roman’s nerves. However, even young as she was, she already had an increasing suspicion that fear was a cathedral of its own, insidious, indefatigable and inescapable.

“Your daddy is really scary, I’m so-”

“Shut up” the boy’s response was plagued with defensiveness. And it had only made his discomfort more evident.

Cecilia wasn’t sure what had hurt more, the humiliation or the ring on Mr. Logan’s index finger.

Roman averted his gaze in an effort to look anywhere but the girl's eyes, fixating instead on the ridiculous color of her puffy dress. While grabbing the back of his head with his hand, —partially to seem unbothered, but mainly to avoid letting her see the redness on his right cheek— he focused on the synthetic fabric on the skirt. How it weaved itself smoothly with a soft wavy pattern.

“Can I show you my plushie collection? I promise Banana will behave this time and stay close. You two can become-“

A soft smile emerged from his face. Cece was trying to make him feel better. She did not seem embarrassed for the redness on his face, she did not laugh the whole thing off, she seemed sincere.

“Okay, okay. Sure”.

────────

In the lead-up to their makeshift wedding, Connor and Willa decided to host their rehearsal dinner at The Grill. She wasn’t completely sure if it was the wedding itself that sickened her or if it was all the tacky 50’s-inspired extravaganza. Still, the end result was the same: Cecilia couldn’t handle being in the venue any second longer. Feeling her own neck contracting in on itself, squeezing the air out of her body, choking her and leaving her dizzy.

The only salvageable part of the ceremony was the expansive view of the midtown space that the balcony offered. And, while the martinis and the nicotine smoke obfuscated the pristine taste of the meal, she could still savor the rather tasty rib she had eaten earlier that night.

It was a nice taste to savor. The ideal last meal of many, she supposed. Taking a slow puff of her cigarette, Cecilia took morbid delight in parading near the edge of the deck. The water from the pool made a soothing sound, and it matched perfectly with the vertiginous view that plagued her vision. Would it hurt terribly? To slip into the opening?

“Hey, Holly! Are you done pretending you have the balls to jump off?”

Right. Rome. A smile replaces the troubled look on her face as she clumsily sits on the floor, carelessly removing the heels of her feet. They were in public, yes, but as usual, it did have a terrible importance to either of them. Cecilia tipped her toes inside the pool, but the weather had made the liquid impossibly cold.

She laughs. They must look pathetic. Taking another hit from the cigarette, she lets the sour taste of the tobacco ground her. She inhales and holds it in for a second, as she closes her eyes.

Cece can feel Roman’s poorly concealed worry wash over her. His puppy eyes disfigured with a frown that seemed of their own. Cecilia playfully blows the smoke on his face. He has nothing to worry about. Not today.

“Look, I stole a napkin” Roman had revealed it with a proud grin on his face. The woman lets out a snort, she can’t really help it.

With the swift changes on the breeze, they quietly decide to exchange tokens. Rome takes the cigarette off her hand and she further inspects the cloth. The small and ridiculously silver W&C on the left side of the tissue was rendered small when you compared it to the poorly drawn rabbit Roman had made with blue ink. The bunny was winking at her, and it wore the same white bow her plushie had all those years ago.

She smiles again, and he makes a point of avoiding looking at her now exposed thighs. The rising skirt seemed to go all the way up, exposing pulp flesh, which was filled with small patches. She must be starting to feel cold. Cecilia looks at him, once more, only this time shy teary pearls adorned her gaze.

Sitting on the floor, Roman hugs her by the side, and kisses her temple. He has nothing to worry about. Not today. 

────────

Notes: I hope everyone enjoyed this! And I hope that I made justice to Beechu’s oc <3. (I took a loot of creative liberties) Have a great time and take care of one another, I’m not from the US, but my heart goes out to everyone who might be suffering from the election results. My dms are always open, you are not alone!

Pd: If you saw me take inspo from Gabriel García Márquez of all people for the first paragraph: No you didn’t. I’m sorry literature gods.

- Sidey xoxo

Anyways, Enjoy @beechu-beechu’s cool artwork tho:

[deedala]

🗺️weekly tag wednesday🗺️

thanks for tagging me to play @weekly-tag-wednesday @spoonfulstar and @kiennilove !!

1) Your nickname: deanna

2) Where do you live currently and what is it known for geographically? ohio. as far as i know it is mostly known for not being real.

3) What’s the weirdest or most unusual geography-related trivia you know? gosh... i dont know that i know anything interesting about geography!! uhm.. oh. there's this thing called the blue banana....

4) How many countries can you name off the top of your head for your own continent? uuhhhhhhhh.... i mean i think technically north america is just the three countries right??

5) Where is the antipode ( https://www.geodatos.net/en/antipodes ) of your birthplace? What would it be like if you were randomly dropped there? in the ocean near southwestern Australia, the closest is a small coastal town called Augusta!! it looks pretty and the wiki said something about a cinema festival there. So it'd probably be cool, i might experience some anxiety about the scary deadly australian wildlife though lol

6) Fully optional but I made a custom map ( https://www.geoguessr.com/maps/648921db322ebab0b66648fc ) on geoguessr. If you play it, drop your score below : i failed to note my score and then it vanished from all record but... the first country i got, the second country i got, the third country i guessed the country's neighbor to the south 🙏

tags below the cut! 🌏🌐🌍

@femboymilkovich @gallapiech @jrooc @heymacy @energievie

@lazystargazy @michellemisfit @mybrainismelted @crossmydna @gardenerian

@sgtmickeyslaughter @mmmichyyy @callivich @gallawitchxx @sam-loves-seb

@heymrspatel @echotrees @too-schoolforcool @darlingian @blue-disco-lights

@palepinkgoat @creepkinginc @the-rat-wins @loftec @rereadanon

@catgrassplantdad @suzy-queued @francesrose3 @softmick

@wehangout @thepupperino @lingy910y @sickness-health-all-that-shit @ian-galagher

@samantitheos @transmickey @captainjowl @c-nord @runninonemptyy

@burninface @geonbaeeeesblog @doshiart @spookygingerr @gallavich-annise

@nozenfordaddy @nenekestis @jessij1997 ✨

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

20 Questions (for fanfic writers)

Thank you for the tags, @cindle-writes and @izharmilgram! I'm procrastinating on other responsibilities, so let's have some fun~

Tagging @i-dream-of-libraries, @chaos-bear, @floatingdandelionseeds, @pitzer, @riverxsong-ao3, @tommarvoloriddlesdiary, @thefangirlibrarian, @hikarimeroperiddle and @blackseatwenty (no pressure, only if you want to! ♡♡♡) and anyone else who wants to talk about their fics -- consider this your tag! ♡

how many works do you have on ao3? 47

what's your total ao3 word count? 226,795

what fandoms do you write for? Harry Potter, Yuri!!! On Ice

top five fics by kudos: A long, hard road; Gone bananas; thrown into the nest; refuge from the miseries of life; unfailingly ingenious at having a good time (surprised the cat!Harry fics are so high tbh) Edit: I can't read... (:‚‹」∠) Top five fics by kudos are as follows: Gone bananas; A long, hard road; thrown into the nest; refuge from the miseries of life; and Coriander (not a big change, but it does explain why the cat!Harry sequel was so high...)

do you respond to comments? uhh... occasionally. Social anxiety kicks my ass and so I put my energy into writing fic instead. I love every single comment I get and reread them any time I need a pick-me-up, but I am a bad author who doesn't reply...

what is the fic your wrote with the angstiest ending? hmm... probably pyrrhic victory, but Capsized is also a contender

what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? considering I write mostly fluff and crack, this is a surprisingly difficult question to answer... I'm gonna go with either if you like it, then... or thrown into the nest. Or maybe don't blame the stork? (Some lovely reader out there is shouting at their screen, "Flaky, you goof, it's obviously ____!!" and they're correct.)

do you get hate on fics? Nope, not really! Some readers express that they wish I'd done certain things differently, and a couple have said I ended a fic badly, but I don't think I've received anything I'd consider hateful.

do you write smut? uhhhh... sometimes. When it's the best way to tell the story I have in my head, then I'll write smut. But it's still a bit uncomfortable to do. I'd like to think I'm getting better at it?

craziest crossover? I'm not sure I've actually written anything that could really be considered a crossover, but A real voyage of discovery is kind of a mash-up of Harry Potter characters in a Star Trek-y world? And it has alien!mort, and I think he's nifty.

have you ever had a fic stolen? A couple of my fics have appeared on Wattpad without my permission, but other than that, no.

have you ever had a fic translated? Yep, a few! (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

have you ever co-written a fic before? Not yet -- I don't really know how it'd work, and I'm afraid to try (¬_¬") Intensely private about my writing before it's ready to post unless you're Jenny. But! I'm counting the Telephone and the Corpse (coming soon) because they're collaborative (in a way) and have been such a major part of my fandom experience!

all-time favorite ship? tomarrymort~ (honourable mentions to sefikura, madohomu, and viktuuri)

what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Fingers crossed I'm not breaking anyone's heart with this, but probably Let's Talk About Sex, Baby. I have some more written for it, but it's been a while since I've returned to it and other projects interest me more. I have every intention of finishing my WIPs, but... there are only so many hours in a day and my energy is, sadly, finite (´•︵•`)

what are your writing strengths? whimsical finger guns! Poignant fluff? Emotions. silliness, and dialogue, probably.

what are your writing weaknesses? Worldbuilding, continuous narratives (as opposed to short scenes without much context), plot-heavy narratives, description, writing the main characters in true opposition to each other, fleshing ideas out rather than keeping it (overly) brief... I'm sure I'll think of a bunch of other things as soon as I post this.

thoughts on dialogue in another language? I'd like to! I speak French reasonably well, and I'm lucky enough to have some fandom friends who speak other languages, so I'm sure I could beg their assistance.

favorite fic you've written? Hhhhhhh, why must I choose? I'll go with naïve melody, because it still gives me the warm fuzzies. I'm just so proud of the tone, and I really like how that Voldemort comes across.

[elliessickhabit]

── .✦ Breaking the mold

chap 1. / chap 2. / chap 3.

CW; Physical injury, body image insecurity, gender dysphoria, anxiety, internalized homophobia, emotional vulnerability, sexual tension, bullying and teasing, fear of rejection, identity questioning, mild profanity, struggles with self-acceptance, pressure to conform, emotional distress, and themes involving masc x masc relationships and lesbian identity.

Summary; Two masc-presenting lesbian footballers, tough, inseparable, and known as the only girls on the boys' team, navigate senior year, aching bruises, and unspoken devotion, until one surprises the other by showing up to prom in a tight dress and sharp heels, shattering expectations and defenses in one unforgettable night.

Notes; This story will unfold over several chapters, each with their own content warnings at the start so you know what to expect. It’s a slow burn, with smut coming later. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy the pacing and buildup. Please be gentle; I’m still learning! Hope you love this masc x masc story, and remember, masc girls aren’t guys!

୨୧・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈ ・ ┈┈・ ┈┈・ ୨୧

You and Abby weren’t the kind of girls who got mistaken for cheerleaders. No one confused the two of you for anything soft. Not with how you hit the field like it owed you something, not with the bruises on your thighs and tape across your knuckles, not with your voices hoarse from barking plays and your sports bras permanently stained from sweat and turf burn.

The two of you had been teammates first, co-captains second and girlfriends somewhere along the way, but you never marked the moment it shifted. It just happened. Quietly. Organically. Like gravity pulling two bodies into the same orbit. You dressed almost the same without trying: low-slung gym shorts, old high school football shirts you both refused to give up, hoodies that smelled like locker room musk and deodorant and a hint of each other’s shampoo. Snapbacks backwards, socks mismatched, cleats always muddy. If anyone saw you from behind at a distance, they probably thought you were just two of the guys. You didn’t care. Hell, sometimes that made it easier. But even when you looked like tomboys who crashed the men’s team by accident, you never forgot what you were underneath it all.

You were girls.

Just not the kind who gave a damn about mascara or curled lashes or crop tops with matching scrunchies. You didn’t paint your nails. Your fingers were always scuffed. But you carried yourselves with that silent, low-burn confidence of girls who knew they could take a hit and get back up again, girls who could dig their cleats in and make the ground shake.

Abby was quieter than you. Not shy, just deliberate. Her voice was low and dry and hit like a flat pass to the chest. When she looked at you, it was like she could see through your skin. She didn’t flirt much, not out loud atleast. But she’d walk by during warm-ups and flick your wrist when no one was looking, or loop your jersey tag back into your collar with a touch so quick it felt like an accident. It wasn’t. You knew it wasn’t.

You, on the other hand, were all noise. You cracked jokes that rode the line. You talked back during drills. You said things like “God, your ass in those compression shorts is a threat to national security,” and made Abby choke on her protein shake. You played loud, flirted louder, but only with her. Only ever with her. And she loved it. Even if she pretended otherwise.

You shared everything—socks, extra tape, painkillers stashed in your bags and half-melted protein bars when the heat got brutal. The guys on the team joked about it constantly. “They’re married, bro. Don’t even try it.” “Abby brings her a damn banana every morning like they got a mortgage together.” “Bet they wear matching jockstraps.”

You flipped them off and kept practicing. You didn’t need to explain anything. You both knew what it was. When the team took water breaks, you and Abby always found each other. No matter where you’d scattered on the field, your feet ended up side by side, backs bowed under the weight of the sun, chests heaving. You’d trade sips from your bottle and lean into each other’s shadows, not quite touching, but not apart.

── ── ── ── ─୨ৎ─ ── ── ── ──

One afternoon, halfway through a brutal scrimmage, you took a cleat to the ribs. It knocked the wind out of you and left you doubled over, gasping through your teeth. Abby was at your side in seconds. “You good?” she asked, hand on your shoulder.

You gritted your jaw. “Yeah. Just had the air knocked out.”

She stayed crouched with you anyway, watching your face like it might split open. Her fingers slid up, hovering just below your arm. “Where’d it hit?” You sucked in a breath and winced. Her brows knit. “I’m taping you up after practice.”

You didn’t argue. Not because you were scared of making it worse, but because you liked the way her hands moved when she was focused. Gentle. Firm. Like she was building something, not patching it.

That night in the locker room, you stripped down to your sports bra, lifting your arm while Abby unwound the tape. Her hands were warm and steady as she pressed across your ribs, measuring where the swelling had started. “Deep breath,” she murmured.

You exhaled slow instead.

Her fingers trailed lower, brushing the hem of your binder. “You should take this off while you rest.” You rolled your eyes. “You trying to seduce me, Anderson?”

She looked up, deadpan. “You got cracked in the ribs and that’s where your mind goes?” You grinned. “You’re touching me. What do you expect?”

“Professionalism.”

You snorted, then hissed when the tape pulled tight. “Okay, ow—point taken.” Abby’s lips twitched. “Good. Now hold still.” And you did. Because she was the only one who ever made you want to.

That was the thing about Abby. She never needed to say she loved you. It was in every small motion, every perfect pass she threw you in practice, every time she shoulder-checked a guy who got too close in a scrimmage and every time she let you steal her hoodie and pretended not to care when you slept in it for three nights straight.

You weren’t the romantic kind. Neither of you were. But you showed up. Always. You remembered each other’s locker combos, snack preferences, sleep habits. You didn’t kiss much in public, but your foreheads bumped when you passed in narrow hallways, and her hand found your hip when the crowd pressed too close.

You were rough girls. Competitive. Sharp. You talked shit and threw elbows and wore your bruises like medals.

But you were girls.

And when Abby brushed your hair out of your face after a game, cupping your cheek in her calloused palm, that wasn’t masc or femme or anything in between. That was just love.

── ── ── ── ─୨ৎ─ ── ── ── ──

It started with a search history you cleared every night before bed.

Not because you were ashamed, but more like unsettled. The idea had crawled into your brain and taken root one quiet night after practice, when you and Abby were lying shoulder to shoulder on the floor of her dorm room, legs stretched out in opposite directions, a movie flickering on the TV and your heart beating way too fast for how calm the night was. The word prom had come up, offhand, like a joke. Someone in the hallway had yelled about dresses and glitter and Abby had just scoffed and muttered, “God, kill me before I ever wear a damn corset.”

You’d laughed. Loud. Agreed with her. Pulled your cap down and said, “Can’t wait to wear the tightest suit known to man and strangle myself with a tie.”

But that night, after she’d fallen asleep on your chest, mouth slightly open, one knee hooked over your thigh like it belonged there, you laid awake for another hour thinking about silk. About slits. About something tight—not like your usual compression shirts, but like softness stitched to your skin.

You didn’t tell Abby.

You couldn’t. Not yet.

Because the two of you… you had a thing. A rhythm. A language built on whistles and passes and the creak of weight benches. You weren’t the kind of couple who said babe or sweetheart. You tackled each other into the grass and grunted ‘good job’ like it meant ‘I love you.’ You wore each other’s boxers. You showered side by side. You didn’t talk about feelings. You didn’t have to. But this? This wasn’t just a feeling. This was change. This was different.

So you kept it secret.

You opened a private tab and scrolled late at night, heart hammering as you browsed site after site, not even sure what you were looking for. Nothing frilly. Nothing pink. You weren’t trying to become someone else, you just wanted to feel seen. Wanted to walk into that room and watch Abby’s jaw go slack like she didn’t even recognize you for a second. Like her best friend, her rival, her girl—had just turned into something else. Something gorgeous. Something fucking unforgettable.

You did your searching when Abby was at team meetings or catching up on film review. You cleared your tabs, kept a hidden Pinterest board under the dumbest name you could think of—‘Protein Pancake Recipes’—and pinned low-back dresses, halters with clean cuts, dark colors that clung in all the right places. Black. Navy. Maybe emerald, if you got brave.

You started skipping team dinners, sneaking off to that one boutique downtown with mannequins in the window that looked like they hadn’t seen sunlight in years. You felt out of place the second you walked in, sports bra still damp with sweat, cleats muddy from afternoon practice, but the girl at the counter just gave you a once-over and smiled like she got it. Like she saw right through the boxers under your shorts and the bite marks on your neck and knew exactly what kind of transformation you were chasing.

You tried on five dresses.

Three of them felt like costumes. One made you cry a little, in a way you weren’t ready to unpack. But the fifth; simple, strappy, black as midnight with a slit up one thigh and a neckline that dipped just enough, that one made you stare at yourself like you weren’t sure whether to punch the mirror or kiss it. So you bought it. You stuffed it into a duffel bag like it was contraband and hid it under your bed at your place, deep behind old cleats and pads and the jersey you tore senior year.

You didn’t breathe a word. Not when Abby asked why you suddenly cared about skincare. Not when she caught you staring too long at a girl’s eyeliner at Chipotle and raised an eyebrow. Not even when she texted “yo u good?” after finding your laptop left open to a site called “10 Ways to Walk in Heels Without Dying.” You just kept your head down. Kept it light. Kept planning. Because something in you needed this. Not just for prom. Not even for Abby. For you.

Because no matter how masc you were, how many times people called you “bro” or how much you loved throwing your girl over your shoulder and making her squeal. You were still a girl. A loud, tough, football-playing, compression-wearing girl. And for one night, you wanted to strip all that away and just be a girl. Be soft. Be sharp. Be a weapon in a dress.

But you were still doing it. Because the idea of her seeing you like that, jaw clenched, eyes dark, stunned into silence, was worth the risk. And you still had time to figure out how to tell her. Maybe.

── ── ── ── ─୨ৎ─ ── ── ── ──

The worst part was that Abby was excited. Not about prom, she’d still roll her eyes every time someone brought it up like the whole thing was some Hallmark-level torture device. But the idea of going with you? That had her talking in casual grins and crooked little nods, dropping half-serious plans like breadcrumbs you couldn’t follow without your stomach turning inside out.

It started one afternoon in the locker room. The whole team had cleared out after practice, sweat still hanging in the air, steam curling off bodies and damp towels. You were peeling off your gear, back turned toward her, when you heard her voice. Low, easy, the way she only got when she wasn’t thinking too hard.

“So… what color you thinking?”

You froze halfway out of your compression shirt. “What?”

“For prom. You doing, like, navy? Burgundy? Or we matching?” She wasn’t even looking at you, just hunched over her cleats, trying to scrub off a streak of mud with the end of her sock. Like this was normal. Like this conversation wasn’t a fire alarm inside your ribcage. “I mean,” she went on, completely unaware that your brain had stopped functioning, “I’m not doing some powder blue penguin-looking shit, so if you’re gonna try that I’m bailing. But like black on black? Sharp as hell.”

You stared at her. Your mouth moved before your brain did. “Yeah. Something like that.”

She gave you a look. A smirk. “What’s that mean?”

You grabbed your towel and buried your face in it like it might help. “It means I haven’t thought about it.” Which was a lie. You’d been thinking about it every night for two weeks.

“Alright,” she said, standing and rolling her shoulders with a crack. “Then we’re going tux shopping this weekend. You’re not showing up lookin’ like a retired drug dealer or some shit.”

“Tux shopping,” you repeated, voice thin.

Abby laughed like she didn’t just nuke your central nervous system. She crossed the locker room with a lazy sort of confidence, towel slung over one shoulder, eyes gleaming with that cocky, playful glint that always made your stomach twist. She stopped just in front of you, one brow lifted, like she was daring you to argue. “Unless you got some surprise for me,” she teased, nudging your hip with hers.

Saturday. Tux shopping. With Abby, who fully believed you were gonna walk into that store and pick out something to match her tie. She’d probably want to snap pictures of you in front of a mirror and text them to her mom like look how hot my girlfriend is. You wanted to scream.

Instead, you laughed. Weakly. “Guess I gotta figure out my vibe then.”

“Better,” she said, already halfway out the door. “And don’t try to sneak off without me. I’m serious. I’m not letting you show up next to me in sweats.”

As soon as she was gone, you sat down hard on the bench and buried your head in your hands. You were fucked. Now you were the one hiding a dress in your closet, knowing she’d expect you to hold out your arm for a boutonnière, not wear a slit that ran up to your damn hip. But the thought of her seeing you in that dress still made your lungs seize up. Not because you thought she’d hate it. Because some part of you wanted her to look at you like that. Like she was seeing you for the first time. Like you’d knocked the air right out of her with a single turn and a smile. And maybe—maybe you’d find a way to get her on board. If you didn’t die first.

── ── ── ── ─୨ৎ─ ── ── ── ──

You didn’t even touch your eggs that morning, just pushed them around your plate while Abby threw back three pieces of toast and grinned at you like she was about to drag you into battle.

“Eat something,” she said, nudging your knee under the diner booth. “Gotta carb up. We’re doing fashion combat today.”

You rolled your eyes, forcing a smirk. “Didn’t realize choosing polyester came with casualties.”

“You’ve clearly never been to a rental place,” she said, waving a fork like it was a weapon. “They will try to put you in a cummerbund. You have to be ready to fight for your life.”

You laughed, but it came out thin, your stomach too tangled to eat. You nodded along while she mapped out the game plan. Three stops, all within driving distance. All you could think about was the dress hanging in the back of your closet, zipped up in silence like a live grenade.

By the time you pulled into the first shop, a strip mall storefront with dusty mannequins and racks of stiff, identical suits, you were sweating. Not from the sun. Just the sense that every step into this tuxedoed hell was dragging you deeper into the lie. Abby jumped out of the car and clapped her hands like a kid entering an arcade. “Alright. Let's make us hot.”

The place smelled like starch and bad decisions. She beelined for the black-and-navy section, already tossing blazers over her arm, while you loitered near a rack of charcoal grey and tried not to look like you wanted to disappear through the floor. She held up a velvet jacket, deep maroon with sharp lapels. “Tell me this wouldn’t make me look fuckin’ dangerous.”

You smiled. “You already look dangerous.” She grinned like you’d handed her the MVP trophy. “Damn right.”

Then she turned to you, eyes flicking over your shoulder. “Alright. Your turn. What’s your flavor?” You blinked. She tossed a blazer at you. “Try that on. I wanna see what we’re working with.”

Your hands moved on autopilot, slipping into the sleeves. It fit well. A little too well. The weight of the jacket made your chest feel caged, your secret grinding against your ribs like a scream you couldn’t let out. Abby stepped in close and adjusted the lapel, eyes narrowed in mock-critical focus. “Not bad. We might just pull off hottest couple of the year.” You gave her a weak grin. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

She snorted. “Please. We’ve been breaking necks since preseason.” Her fingers brushed your collar, lingering just a beat too long. It wasn’t new, Abby always touched you like she was allowed to, like the closeness was natural. It was, usually. But not now. Not with your throat tight and your skin buzzing with guilt. “So,” she said, voice low, teasing, “how ‘bout it? You rockin’ a tie or a bowtie?” Your brain scrambled. “Uh—tie.”

“What kind?”

“…Something simple.”

Abby tilted her head, amused. “You okay?” You looked away. “Yeah. Just hot in here.” She didn’t push. Just nudged your arm and said, “We’ll try the next store. Better AC.”

Two stores later, she had her outfit nearly locked—dark navy tux, subtle pinstripe, shirt with a sharp collar. She looked like every fantasy you’d never let yourself say out loud. You, on the other hand, had tried on five jackets, none of which you planned to wear. Back in the car, Abby propped her elbow on the window, wind in her hair, completely relaxed. “You’re still undecided?” she asked, glancing at you from the driver’s seat.

You shrugged. “Yeah, nothing’s really clicked.”

She smiled. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

You looked out the window, your reflection caught faintly in the glass—shoulders squared under the wrong outfit, secrets pressed into the seams. You were running out of time. And Abby didn’t suspect a thing.

Yet.

The problem was, you weren’t a good liar. Not with her. You could take a hit on the field, fake out a defender, talk your way out of a speeding ticket, but when it came to Abby, your poker face cracked like cheap glass. And you could feel it happening more and more.

── ── ── ── ─୨ৎ─ ── ── ── ──

It was two days before prom, and the pressure sat on your chest like a linebacker. You’d gone radio silent about outfits. Abby had let it slide for a while, chalked it up to nerves, maybe, or laziness. But now? She was noticing. Really noticing.

You were sitting in your shared booth at the campus café after lifting, sore and flushed. Abby still in her sleeveless hoodie and backwards cap, your thighs pressed together under the table and she’d just pulled her phone out to scroll through the prom group chat when she paused mid-scroll.

“Hey,” she said, not looking up. “What are you actually wearing?”

You took a sip of water. Too fast. You choked. Abby’s eyes flicked up, one brow raised. “Seriously?”

“I told you. I’m still deciding,” you said, voice raspy.

“No, you said that last week. Then again three days ago. Then yesterday when I asked if you needed help steaming it.”

Your laugh came out weirdly high. “I’m just—figuring it out.”

“You’re figuring it out two days before prom?”

You shrugged. She stared at you, her forearms tensed on the table, veins standing out beneath the sweat. You didn’t like that look in her eyes, it wasn’t anger. It was focus. Quiet, analytical. Abby didn’t get loud when she was suspicious. She got still. “Alright,” she said, tone light but flat. “What store is it from?”

You looked down at your cup. “Why does that matter?”

“Because you won’t shut up about labels when I wear Off-Brand Adidas, and now suddenly you’re shy?” You rolled your eyes. “Jesus, Abs.”

She leaned back in the booth, tapping her nails against her thigh. “I’m not mad. I’m just saying… for someone who always roasts my outfit choices, you’re being real cagey about yours.”

You tried to smile, to make it sound like nothing. “Maybe I’m just trying to surprise you.” You felt the heat rising up your neck, the tension creeping into your shoulders. There it was again, that slow, quiet press of her attention, the weight of her trying to see you.

She reached across the table and grabbed your wrist, not rough, not dramatic. Just solid. Grounding. Her thumb brushed the inside of your arm, slow and warm. “You know I don’t care what you wear, right?” You looked down at where her hand held yours. It was too much and not enough “I know.”

Abby nodded slowly. She didn’t push. She never did, not unless you made her, but you saw it in the way she sat back just a little. In the way her eyes lingered longer than usual when you weren’t speaking. She was trying to read you now. And Abby was good at reading defenses.

You had two days to get it together. Two days until you stepped into that gymnasium wearing something Abby had never seen on you. Something soft. Feminine. Curve-hugging. Risky. You weren’t scared of being seen. You were scared of being seen by her. And the way she was looking at you now, you weren’t sure if she’d wait for the reveal or rip it out of you first.

୨୧・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈ ・ ┈┈・ ┈┈・ ୨୧

To be continued…

[ladysif-writes-chaos]

Something Sweet

•Paring: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers •Rated: General Audience •Tags: Recovering Bucky Barnes, Semi-Retired Bucky Barnes, Semi-Retired Steve Rogers, Bucky Loves To Cook, Bucky Loves To Bakes, He Loves Being In The Kitchen In General, Domestic Bliss, Fluffiest Fluff Fest, Boys In Love, Therapy, Getting Better One Day At A Time, Supportive Steve Rogers.

•Summary: In the wake of Bucky's liberation from HYDRA, he and Steve have settled into a quiet small town in upstate New York, making a home together. Bucky is dedicated to his recovery, driven by his desire to better himself for both his own sake and for his loving, patient, and kind boyfriend, Steve. As Bucky reflects on his journey, he realizes that he has never properly apologized to Steve for the pain he caused. Determined to express his remorse in a meaningful way, Bucky decides that the best way to say "I'm sorry" is by baking a cake.

Bucky sits at the small wooden table in Steve's apartment, eyes fixed on the laptop screen in front of him with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity. The soft hum of the machine seems almost menacing to him. Despite being kept up to date on technology by A.I.M. and HYDRA, this is the first time he's ever freely been able to use a computer, and even that freedom feels precarious. His fingers hover uncertainly over the keyboard as if the laptop might spring to life and attack at any moment.

The room is dimly lit by a single lamp, casting shadows that dance across the walls and give the space an almost surreal atmosphere. Steve is in the kitchen, giving Bucky space but keeping an eye on him, ready to help if needed. The thought of General Ross and the Accords looms large in Bucky's mind. He knows they are chomping at the bit to get their grubby, dirty government hands on him, watching his every move even now. The weight of their surveillance is a constant pressure, turning this simple act of using a computer into an act of defiance.

He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that he's safe here and that Steve has his back. But the anxiety lingers, a reminder of the shadows of his past. As he finally begins to type, the clack of the keys feels like a small victory, a step toward reclaiming his autonomy.

Bucky's fingers tentatively move over the keyboard as he types "cake recipe" into the search bar. Memories of his mother's cakes surface, the warm, comforting aroma filling their modest home during the Great Depression. Those cakes were simple, made from whatever scarce ingredients they could find, but they were a rare treat that brought a sense of normalcy and joy in hard times.

Now, in this new age, he knows that food has evolved, that flavors have been enhanced, and recipes perfected. As he scrolls through the search results, images of decadent, elaborately decorated cakes make him feel both excited and a bit overwhelmed.

He can't help but chuckle as he thinks about his ongoing disagreement with Sam about bananas. Sam insists they taste the same as always, but Bucky is convinced they're different now, their flavor altered by something intangible but noticeable to him. Then again, he muses, Sam's judgment is questionable. After all, Sam did choose to help Steve save his ass, a decision that might not have been entirely based on sound logic.

He clicks on a recipe that looks promising: apple cake with an apple pie filling and cinnamon buttercream. The combination of flavors sounds both comforting and delicious, a perfect blend of old and new. Feeling a surge of confidence, Bucky decides he can definitely handle this.

Reaching for the notepad and pencil next to him, he starts jotting down the ingredients:

- Apples

- Flour

- Sugar

- Eggs

- Butter

- Cinnamon

- Baking powder

- Salt

- Vanilla extract

- Brown sugar

- Powdered sugar

- Heavy cream

As he writes, he envisions the process: the smell of apples and cinnamon filling Steve's apartment, the satisfaction of creating something from scratch. It's a small step toward reclaiming a sense of normalcy and peace.

Bucky is so absorbed in his list that he doesn't hear Steve approaching. Steve's hands on his shoulders startle him, and he quickly closes the browser and covers his notes.

"What're you up to?" Steve asks, peering over Bucky's shoulder.

"Nothing," Bucky replies, looking up with a forced smile.

Steve raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical but thankfully deciding not to press the issue. "Sam and I are heading out for a few hours. You wanna come?"

Bucky wrinkles his nose at the idea, making Steve chuckle. "Didn't think so," Steve says, dipping his head down to give Bucky a quick kiss.

Before Steve can pull away, Bucky grabs the back of his head, holding him there to deepen the kiss, savoring the moment. When they finally part, Steve's smile is softer and more understanding. "Alright, see you later," Steve says, giving Bucky's shoulders a reassuring squeeze before heading out.

As the door closes behind Steve, Bucky watches him go, a smile lingering on his lips. Steve has been incredibly patient with him these past several months. Though it's technically been a year since he was liberated, adjusting to this new life hasn't been easy.

Bucky's court-appointed therapist, Doctor Raynor, has diagnosed him with PTSD. They called it combat or battle fatigue back in the day, but Bucky is thankful that mental health care has made significant advancements since then. He's been dealing with nightmares, dissociation, and a pervasive sense of being disconnected from reality.

Doctor Raynor has emphasized the importance of positive touch in his recovery. Simple gestures like holding hands, resting his feet on Steve's lap, or letting Steve massage his feet have become crucial parts of his healing process. These moments of contact help ground him, reminding him that he is safe and cared for.

Bucky pads to his and Steve's bedroom, the wooden floor cool under his bare feet. He opens the closet and grabs a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then heads to the bathroom. Turning on the shower, he steps under the hot water, letting it wash away the lingering tension from his muscles.

He showers quickly, savoring the warmth, then wraps a towel around his waist as he steps out. Standing in front of the mirror, he shaves his face with practiced precision, then works some product into his short hair, styling it just the way he likes. Pleased with his appearance, he glances at his Vibranium arm, its sleek design a constant reminder of his past and his resilience. He's starting to not remember a time when he didn't have this arm; its presence is now a familiar part of him.

With a deep breath, he walks back into the bedroom and gets dressed, the comfortable routine grounding him further. Ready for the day ahead, he feels a small but significant sense of accomplishment.

Bucky grabs his wallet, phone, and keys, almost forgetting his list in the process. He quickly snatches it from the table and heads outside. The bay door is open, and Steve's motorcycle is missing from the garage. He hopes his boyfriend has a good time with Sam.

Unlocking his gray 2021 Chevy Tahoe, Bucky climbs in and immediately starts the air conditioner, relishing the cool air. He backs out of the driveway, spotting his neighbor Lydney sitting on her front porch with baby Jenson. Bucky gives them a wave, receiving a friendly smile in return.

He drives through the quiet streets of Beacon, a charming town in upstate New York. The serene atmosphere and friendly community have been a balm to his mind. As he heads towards the grocery store, he takes a moment to appreciate the peacefulness of his surroundings, feeling grateful for this small slice of normalcy.

Bucky parks the Tahoe and steps out into the warm afternoon. As he walks into the grocery store, the cool, conditioned air is a welcome relief. It's a sweltering 97° outside, the heat index makes it over 100°. He grabs a cart and pulls out his list, ready to gather the ingredients for his apple cake.

Navigating the aisles, he quickly finds the basics: flour, sugar, eggs, butter, cinnamon, and the other essentials. As he reaches the produce section, he carefully selects a few apples, making sure they're firm and fresh. He spots a display of zucchini and pauses. He thinks about the steaks waiting in the fridge in the bourbon marinade he threw together at home and decides to grab a couple of to go with them.

Bucky feels a small sense of satisfaction as he checks off each item on his list. With his cart nearly full, he heads to the checkout, ready to return home.

As Bucky places his groceries on the conveyor belt, the cashier greets him with a friendly smile. "Hey there, how's it going?" he asks while scanning the items.

"Good, thanks," Bucky replies, offering a polite smile in return.

"Man, it's been a hot one today, hasn't it?" the cashier continues, making small talk as he works.

"Yeah, feels like summer's really kicking in," Bucky responds, trying to engage despite his usual aversion to small talk.

The cashier chuckles. "Tell me about it. I've been counting down the minutes until I can get out of here and hit the lake."

Bucky nods, appreciating the cashier's enthusiasm. "Sounds like a good plan. Hope you get to cool off soon."

The cashier scans the last item and starts bagging the groceries. "What about you? Got any plans to beat the heat?"

"Just gonna stay inside and do some baking," Bucky says, holding up his list as if to prove it.

"Baking in this weather? Brave soul," the cashier teases, handing Bucky his receipt. "Well, good luck with that. Have a great day!"

"Thanks, you too," Bucky replies, loading the bags into his cart. He heads back to the Tahoe, feeling a bit more accomplished for having engaged in a bit of friendly banter, however small.

Bucky stands in front of his KitchenAid mixer, eyeing it a little dubiously. The shiny, red machine gleams on the countertop, its various attachments neatly laid out in the cabinet next to it. It was a recent gift from Steve, who had noticed Bucky spending more time in the kitchen and thought he could use a top-notch tool to help with his culinary experiments.

He hasn't had a chance to use it yet, but today feels like the perfect opportunity. "Why not?" he mutters to himself, determined to make good use of Steve's thoughtful gift.

Bucky grabs his laptop, setting it up on the counter beside the mixer. He pulls up the apple cake recipe and begins measuring out his ingredients. Flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt go into the bowl first, followed by a careful measurement of cinnamon. He cracks the eggs and adds them to the mix, followed by softened butter and vanilla extract.

He takes a moment to look at the instructions again, ensuring he's not missing any steps. Satisfied, he attaches the paddle to the mixer and secures the bowl in place. With a deep breath, he turns the mixer on, but he must have set it to a higher speed than intended.

The mixer roars to life, and within seconds, flour and other ingredients are catapulted out of the bowl. Bucky's eyes widen in shock as a cloud of flour engulfs him, covering his hair, face, and clothes. The mess doesn't stop there—ingredients splatter onto the kitchen cabinets, and a fine layer of flour settles over his laptop screen.

Bucky stands frozen for a moment, then bursts out laughing at the absurdity of the situation. He's covered in flour from head to toe, and the kitchen is a disaster zone of scattered ingredients.

"Well, that's one way to use it," he mutters, shaking his head as he starts to clean up. Despite the mishap, he can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. It's a new kind of battle, and even though he's ended up covered in flour, he's ready to try again.

Bucky has finally cleaned up the mess, wiping down the counters, cabinets, and his flour-dusted laptop. With everything back in order, he takes a deep breath and prepares to try again. This time, he sets Marvin Gaye's "Got to Give It Up" playing softly from his laptop, letting the smooth rhythm fill the kitchen and lift his spirits.

He re-measures the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt, carefully adding them to the mixer bowl. The eggs, butter, and vanilla extract follow, and he attaches the paddle to the mixer once more. With a cautious hand, he turns the mixer on at the lowest speed, watching as the ingredients blend smoothly together.

Relief washes over him as the batter comes together perfectly. The oven is already preheated and ready to go. But just as he's about to pour the batter, he realizes he doesn't have any cake pans. He rummages through the cabinets, searching for something suitable. Finally, he spots a square disposable metal pan tucked in the back.

He shrugs. "That'll do," he says to himself.

Pouring the batter into the pan, he smooths it out evenly and slides it into the oven. The kitchen is filled with the comforting scent of baking cake, and Bucky can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

As the cake bakes, Bucky turns his attention to the cinnamon buttercream. He pulls out the ingredients: butter, powdered sugar, cinnamon, vanilla extract, and heavy cream. With a determined smile, he begins the process.

He softens the butter in the mixer bowl, this time being extra careful to start on a low speed. Gradually, he adds the powdered sugar, watching as it blends smoothly with the butter. Next comes the cinnamon and vanilla extract, filling the kitchen with a warm, spicy aroma. He adds a splash of heavy cream, increasing the mixer's speed slightly to achieve a fluffy, smooth consistency. Satisfied, he tastes a bit and nods in approval. Perfect.

With the buttercream ready, Bucky sets it aside and starts on the apple pie filling. He peels and chops the apples, then places them in a saucepan with some brown sugar, cinnamon, and a hint of nutmeg. As the mixture begins to simmer, the apples soften, and the sugar caramelizes, creating a rich, fragrant filling.

He stirs the apples gently, ensuring they cook evenly. The smell of cinnamon and caramelized apples fills the kitchen, blending harmoniously with the scent of the baking cake. Bucky takes a moment to appreciate the comforting aromas, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction as he prepares each component.

The cake is nearly done, and with the buttercream and apple pie filling ready, he knows he's close to completing his culinary creation. He checks the timer, eager to assemble the cake and see the final result.

With the cake finally cooled, Bucky knows he needs to improvise. He carefully removes the cake from the pan, using a knife to cut it in half horizontally. Gently, he lifts the top layer off and sets it aside. He spreads the apple pie filling evenly over the bottom layer, then carefully places the top layer back on, pressing down lightly to secure it.

Realizing he doesn't have all the baking tools he Bucky makes do with what he has. He spreads the cinnamon buttercream over the top and sides of the cake, smoothing it as best as he can with a spatula. He then adds a few drops of black food coloring to a small amount of the buttercream, mixing it until it reaches a rich, dark color. He scoops the colored icing into a Ziploc bag and cuts a tiny corner off, fashioning a makeshift piping bag.

As he stands there, ready to decorate, he ponders what to write on the cake. Logically, he knows Steve understands that he's sorry for everything he did as the Winter Soldier, but he's never actually said it out loud. It's something Doctor Raynor has encouraged him to do—expressing his feelings and doing things he wants to do.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky starts piping the words, his hand a bit unsteady but determined. The black icing forms the letters carefully: "I'm Sorry." He steps back to look at his work, the simple yet powerful message standing out against the white cinnamon buttercream.

The cake is far from perfect, but it carries a weight of meaning that makes it special. Bucky knows Steve will appreciate the effort and the sentiment behind it. He smiles, feeling a sense of accomplishment and a small, hopeful step toward healing.

Steve walks in the front door, hanging up his keys on the hook by the entrance. "I'm home!" he calls out, expecting to hear Bucky's reply. He checks his phone and notices a $456 charge from Amazon on his credit card, frowning in confusion. "Buck?" he calls out again but still gets no answer.

Walking further into their cozy two-bedroom, two-bath house, Steve finally spots Bucky out on the back deck, tending to the Blackstone griddle. He opens the door and steps outside, saying, "Hey, baby."

Bucky looks over his shoulder as he flips the steaks. "Hey," he says, a smile spreading across his face. "Did you have a good time?"

Steve leans in to kiss Bucky softly, but Bucky gets a little greedy, pulling Steve back in for a deeper kiss. When they finally part, Steve breathes out, "Yeah, I did. What are you up to?"

"I did some baking," Bucky replies, his eyes twinkling with a mix of pride and mischief.

Steve raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Baking, huh? Can't wait to see what you've made."

Bucky grins. "You'll see after dinner. Now go get washed up," he says, giving Steve a playful swat on his perfect ass.

Steve chuckles and heads inside, the affectionate touch lingering warmly. Bucky has definitely been lately, seeking physical connection in ways that go beyond Doctor Raynor's recommendations. It's a welcome change, and Steve feels a thrill of anticipation as he washes up, eager to see what Bucky has baked.

Back outside, Bucky tends to the steaks with a newfound lightness in his heart. He can't wait to see Steve's reaction to the cake and the message he's carefully written. It's a step toward healing and an expression of the deep love and regret he feels.

Steve steps back outside, freshened up and ready for dinner. He looks at Bucky with a curious expression. "By the way, do you know anything about the Amazon charges on my card?"

Bucky shrugs casually, a playful glint in his eye. "Yeah, I did some light shopping for the kitchen."

Steve blinks, a bit taken aback by Bucky's choice of words. "Light shopping, huh?" he replies, raising an eyebrow. "I guess that's one way to put it."

Bucky just smiles, trying to keep his expression innocent as he continues to tend to the steaks.

Bucky and Steve sit at the table, the aroma of their meal filling the room. Their plates are generously loaded with bourbon steaks cooked to a perfect medium, sautéed zucchini, onion, and squash, and loaded baked potatoes. Bucky had outdone himself, and the spread looked delicious.

As Steve takes his first bite, his eyes light up. "Buck, baby, this is incredible. The steak is cooked perfectly, and these potatoes are amazing."

Bucky blushes at the praise, a pleased smile spreading across his face. He cuts into his own steak, savoring the flavors, while Steve continues to rave about the meal.

"You know," Steve says between bites, looking at Bucky with a soft smile, "you're really pretty when you blush. Makes everything taste even better."

Bucky's cheeks flush even deeper, his smile growing shy but happy. "Thanks, honey," he murmurs, feeling a warm glow from both the compliment and the successful dinner.

The evening continues with easy conversation and laughter, and the love and affection between them are as evident as the delicious meal Bucky prepares.

Steve pushes away his plate with a satisfied sigh, patting his full stomach. "That was amazing, Buck. You really outdid yourself," he says, leaning back in his chair.

Bucky chuckles softly as he starts to clear the plates. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he says, picking up the dishes.

Steve begins to stand, but Bucky gently puts a hand on his shoulder. "Stay seated," he says with a smile. "I'll handle this."

Bucky leans down and plants a tender kiss on Steve's lips. "I'll be right back," he adds, his voice warm and reassuring.

Steve nods, a contented smile on his face as he watches Bucky clear the table.

Bucky returns to the table with the cake pan, his face beaming with pride. He sets the cake down in front of Steve, who looks up with a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

Steve's eyes scan the cake, and a smile slowly spreads across his face as he reads the inscription: "I'm sorry I blacked out, then tried to kill you and got us arrested." Unable to contain his amusement, he covers his mouth with his hand to stifle a chuckle.

Bucky's cheeks flush with a blend of embarrassment and affection. He watches Steve's reaction closely, his heart pounding with a mix of nervousness and hope.

Steve finally looks up, his eyes shining with both laughter and love. "You know," he says, his voice tender, "it might not be the most conventional apology, but it's definitely one of the most heartfelt."

Bucky's blush deepens, but he smiles, relieved that Steve appreciates the gesture. "I just wanted you to know how much I mean it," he says softly.

Steve reaches out and takes Bucky's hand, squeezing it gently. "And I appreciate it more than you know." he brings Bucky's hand up to his lips and kisses it. "Now, let's dig into this cake."

Steve cuts a slice of the cake and looks up at Bucky with a curious smile. "Is this what I think it is?" he asks, eyeing the layers and the frosting.

Bucky's smile widens with pride. "Yep, it's apple cake with apple pie filling and cinnamon buttercream."

Steve's eyes light up in delight. "You spoil me, baby," he says, taking a bite. The combination of the tender cake, spiced apple filling, and creamy buttercream is as delicious as he had hoped. "Fuck, Buck, this is amazing."

Bucky watches eagerly as Steve savors the first bite, the satisfaction in his gaze clear. "I'm glad you think so," he says softly, feeling a warm sense of accomplishment.

Steve nods, his expression one of genuine enjoyment. "It's perfect, Buck. Thanks for making this, baby."

Moodboard

Sif's Masterlist

Series Masterlist

[mosviqu]

before the new year begins

happy new year everyone! 🫶🏻✨️ toffee @neo-shitty tagged me in this and since i absolutely love talking about myself and reflecting, i am taking the opportunity to look back on 2024 with this, so thank u for the tag hihi. 🩷

my no-pressure tags go to @sungbeam @from-izzy @gluion @jaehunnyy @sanaxo-o @injangism and @freakywonbin !!

1. share your favorite memory of this year.

as much as i shit on 2024, it surely was one of the best years of my life. I can't really think of one memory that would be my most favorite, but i really enjoyed my trip to budapest in june and also august, my internet best friend sleeping over, karaoke nights in november and december, getting drunk with my situationship, 11/11 manifestation with my friend and over-all many moments spent with friends during this semester :,)

2. what was the highlight of your year?

I think that an over-all highlight might have been me spending more time with my friends and building deeper bonds with the people around me, but once again, i dont think i can pick just one.

3. list the top five books you read this year.

AAAA i love book questions. okay so! first place definitely takes happy all the time by laurie colwin, which i didnt expect to like as much as i did, but its a solid 5* book that i think about often. second place is definitely tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow by gabrielle zevin that i read this time last year, it was such an enchanting and amazing read with an unique plot line and great world building. third place takes flowers for algernon by daniel keyes, my psych major heart enjoyed this one deeply. makes you think and reflect and i would recommend this book to anyone. I also very much enjoyed kitchen by banana yoshimoto, which was written in a very simple, yet beautiful way, and the last one im going to mention is never let me go by kazuo ishiguro, which i also didnt expect to like half as much as i did.

4. list the top five movies you watched this year.

I am not much of a movie watcher, if im being honest, i am convinced i literally watched 5 movies in total last year 💀💀 but i did really love fight club! I also finally watched the amazing spiderman movies which i loved, and beautiful boy which wasn't exactly what i expected, but i enjoyed it nonetheless and think about it often. as the fifth one im gonna mention john mulaney: baby j if that counts..? 😭

5. list the top five tv series you binged this year.

I havent watched much tv series either,, but twinkling watermelon was definitely my favorite!! I also enjoyed the eighth sense and the eight show, and i also channeled my inner uk culture lover and watched the inbetweeners finally LMAOO

6. what is the one new thing you discovered this year (could be a place/hobby/song etc)?

does a karaoke bar at uni count? 💀💀 i dont think i really discovered many new things last year, or i cant really recall anything..? but i definitely discovered more of my uni town and maybe more of my sexuality..? 😭 as for artists i discovered the kid laroi, role model and gracie abrams :p

7. top three albums that you played this year?

the secret of us by gracie abrams, eternal sunshine by ariana grande and kansas anymore by role model were definitely my most played this year 🙂‍↕️

8. your spotify wrapped #1 song

I feel like i am the only one whose spotify wrapped was accurate this year HAHA. anyways mine was sadly she moves in her own way by the kooks. 🧍‍♀️

9. your spotify wrapped top artist.

the 1975! matty healy they could never make me hate you.

10. your personal song of the year.

oof.. n e m u s i m e s a b a t by porsche boy and mess. this song was there for me when no one else was HAHA.

11. what is an achievement that you are proud of this year?

started putting myself first and taking more opportunities to go out/hang out with people. this used to be a big problem of mine especially when i was handling anxiety, but i found that getting out of the house helps managing it :))

12. what are your goals for the next year?

biggest goal is definitely graduating and getting into masters! then id love to travel to london with my friend in the summer and finally get that tattoo i've been wanting since 17 hihi. finding love would also be great but i dont think thats something i can impact haha

13. any three book releases you are excited for next year

I dont really follow any anticipated releases, to be honest! I just read what i find already released 😭

14. any three upcoming movies/tv series that you are excited for next year.

WEAK HERO CLASS 2 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

15. if you could change one thing about the past year what would it be?

the holiday season 💀💀 it was quite possibly the darkest part of my year/life and i did not enjoy it at all.

16. did you manage to stick to your new year's resolutions this year?

I just found a few that i had written down in my journal last year. I definitely stuck to taking care of myself more, put myself first more, hanging out more with my friends and continuing to write. I didnt however watch more movies, do more art and read 24 books last year 💔

17. do you have any new year's resolutions for the next year?

I do! as i already mentioned, graduating and getting into masters is a big one. then going to london, get a tattoo, write more, continue to socialize even more, be more careless and have more of a yolo lifestyle, find a more positive relationship with myself and build my confidence in a way that doesnt depend on external validation. :))

18. favorite meme of the year?

mama a girl behind you was a big one in my brain to be quite honest. 😭😭 also 9/10 perfect score! OH and the sabrina "have you ever tried this one?"

19. which month was the most fun this year?

june, august, october and november were big ❤️‍🔥

20. what color do you associate the previous year with?

hmmm not gonna lie its very close to brat green in my eyes

21. if you could tell yourself something at the beginning of this year based on what you know right now, what would it be?

do things scared !!! don't worry so much about everything, because things will turn out just fine. also dont talk to the erasmus people in the club it's a trap! (/j. I've enjoyed this little fun romance side quest of mine so far.)

22. favorite viral trend of the year?

I think i kinda fell for the very cutesy very demure trend for a bit?? Also the viral dance to disco by surf curse was the highlight of my days i watched every single one on my fyp haha

23. list any three new things you learned this year (could be recipes, a new skill, etc.)

my signature pasta recipe i cook for me and my roommate every other week. I also feel like i finally learned how to park..? and uhhh the last skill may be how to give a bj idk sjsksdksksk

24. how would you describe your year in a word?

fun!

25. what color do you want to associate the upcoming year with? why?

yellow! it feels like a very positive/celebratory color and i feel like thats what i really need next year <3

[lixenn]

So I went absolutely bananas...

After participating in the picrew tag game (thanks again @cloudvaria for tagging me 🫡) I decided to go insane and do this for ALL OF MY OCS THAT I HAVE VISUALS OF!

It was so fun, I literally couldn't stop, so without further ado have my housekeeping AU cast in pixel version:

Naturally we are starting with Chief who looks extra tired and has the health of a wet paper towel. I forgot to give him his beauty mark but I wanted the double eyebags anyways, so just use your imagination for that🫡Since Dan loves plant and is good at gardening he gets high plant skill (whatever that plant stands for i have no clue lmao)

Introducing catboy!Dave into the world! Because Dave is so majorly catcoded I couldn't resist. His hair is pink because of course it is, that guy never stays at one hair colour for long. High cooking stat because my baby is skilled in the kitchen, which is good because he's Chief's main food provider.

Vlasta! @childe-of-saulot tagging you because well it's Vlasta lol Notably the background for Vlasta is different from all the others because I really couldn't match their vibes with colthing and hair so they get the scary background instead. Also! Their name didn't fit! How dare! I used Dave's nickname for them instead. Vlasta gets all the sharp pointy things because they deserve them. The demon asthetic was added because I'm still obssessed with VV's demon play photos, so Vlasta gets the horns and tail too.

The first Valerie visual! And it's pixel art lmao 🤣 But it's pretty accurate imo so here we go! Val has the highest attack because she is badass, also two knives because there was no naginata option so she just gets more weapons 👍🏼

It honestly didn't surprise me but Yves was the easiest one to make, simply because their vibe really fits this picrew so hard. I'm so happy with the dress option it's so yvescore TT I don't know if i officially mentioned it but Yves fights with a fan (but not often, they avoid conflict if possible but they are still prepared in case they need to defend themselves).

And last but not least the local librarian Cilmi! @dreamieparadise Look! It's the boy! The hair isn't a perfect match because his is in a bob but that one was the only textured type that I liked. He got two books because a librarian can't just have one book in his inventory. He also got anti anxiety meds which are for René. High intelligence stat because he's a very smart cookie.

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Anyways that's it for now! I will probably do my other ocs once I actually know what they look like (and if I don't forget).

Not making this a tag game but if anyone also wants to do this with their ocs here is the link to the picrew. In case you wanna join me in my insanity I would love to see the result so feel free to tag me if you post your own picrew pixel ocs!