#but about this snip - it was cut for pacing

[sharkneto]

As promised! A deleted scene from Chapter 23 of Joining Together in thanks for you all helping my favorite duck not lose as badly in the duck poll <3

An hour left in their wait and boredom is setting in hard. Sarah perks up from her book at the panicked voices behind her, welcoming the distraction to try and identify the language being spoken. French? She looks over her shoulder at a group standing at the departures board, talking animatedly to one another. There are a lot of gestures happening. Five perks up slightly from his slouch to look, too.

As they continue arguing, Five interrupts to call over, “Excuse-moi? As-tu besoin d'aide?”

The group whips around to stare at Five, just as Sarah and Megan are. The same surprised expression is on everyone’s face.

“Parles français?” one of the men asks.

Five unfolds to stand and join them. “Oui. Médiocrement.”

Sarah and Megan watch in open amazement as Five talks with the French group. He nods along to what they say, expression pinching as he asks, “Á Detroit?” The group nods. They talk for a bit more and then Five nods again and leaves with them.

Megan turns to Sarah. “So... Five speaks French?”

“I guess.”

One day, Sarah is going to stop being surprised by all the incredible, random things he can do.

They wait impatiently for Five to return. He does, nearly fifteen minutes later, expression nonplussed like he hadn’t just jumped up and spoken another language out of nowhere. He folds back into his slouch and pulls his phone out to mess with.

Sarah and Megan wait.

He ignores them.

“Five?” Sarah prods.

“Hm?”

“You speak French?”

He shrugs. “Not well.”

“That was cool,” Megan says. “That you helped them.”

Another shrug. “It wasn’t a big deal. They just needed some help to figure out flight shit. Apparently, there’s weather over Chicago, where they were headed after being in New York, and their flight got diverted to Detroit. They didn’t know where they were supposed to go for next steps to actually get to Chicago.”

“All that and you don’t speak French well,” Sarah says dryly.

He slouches further in his seat.

“Do you speak any other languages?” Megan asks, her book forgotten on her knee.

“Um,” Five says. He holds out a hand to count on his fingers. “French, obviously. Spanish. Italian. My German is shit. Polish, for some reason. Greek, technically. A little Mandarin and Korean. A little Russian.”

Sarah stares at him, incredulous. “You speak nine languages?”

“Kind of? And ten. With English.”

“Holy crap,” Megan says.

“And not really!” Five rushes to say, starting to get defensive. “Like, the Greek is ancient Greek, which is functionally useless—”

“You know ancient Greek,” Sarah interrupts.

He rolls his eyes and recites a series of Greek-sounding syllables. “We all had to learn the Odyssey and Iliad in their original Greek. It stuck. It doesn’t count. And, some are just enough so I can say ‘Hi, I’m Number Five with the Umbrella Academy, I’m here to help. Don’t throw up on me.’ And to like. Find a bathroom.”

“How do you say that in other languages?”

“You get one, I’m not a performing monkey. Um, Witam, jestem Numer Pięć w Akademii Parasol. Jestem tu, aby cię uratować. Nie wymiotuj na mnie.”

While Sarah is smiling over how Five translates his name, Megan says, “That’s really cool, Five.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s a little something,” Sarah says. She checks her watch. “Still a little early, but do we want to migrate to our gate? Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll be ahead of schedule."

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 4

(Rafe Cameron x Reader, series, 6.6k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

additional chapter cw: suggestive language/acts, mature readers only please

⇢ series masterlist

Rafe lifted his fist to knock on your door.

But before he could bring his knuckles to the wood, he froze, suddenly panicked that he had no idea what he was going to say when you appeared behind it. He stepped back, crinkling the package of the candy in his hands.

“Hey, so,” he whispered, practicing to himself. “I’m sorry if that was weird. Not weird. Sorry if that was uncomfortable? I don’t know why I’m saying sorry. Hey, so, Kelce is a dick, right? Maybe I should say sorry. Fuck…”

As he paced back and forth, the floor creaked below him. He was too preoccupied with trying to find the right words to notice he was making noise. He didn’t get a chance to finish his little script, though, because you opened the door.

He froze mid-sentence, eyes wide as he looked at you, realizing you clearly heard him talking to himself. Fuck, that’s embarassing. Before he could spiral about how much you had heard, he noticed the way your nose was red at the end, eyes glossy, and cheeks stained with black smudges. You had been really crying.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, struck with the urge to reach out and wipe the water from your face.

“What do you want, Rafe?” You sniffled.

“I wanted to…I was…” Rafe was lost, any words he had planned completely left him at the gut wrenching sight of your tears.

He shuffled on his feet a little as you watched him with an unforgiving glare. He had to come up with something.

He extended the candy to you, “...bringing you this.”

“Thanks but that beer made me sick, I’m not really in a snacky mood,” you snipped.

He felt like a kitten coming to his owner with a present, only to be scolded for bringing a dead bird into the house.

“Right,” he tried to recover. “I just thought maybe you’d want to keep them up here so no one takes them.”

You sighed heavily as you quickly took the candy from him, no lingering graze of your hands like you’d done so many times before the night had taken this turn for the worse.

“Okay,” he exhales. “I didn’t come up here to give you the candy.”

“What did you come up here for then?” You huffed.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he admitted.

You turned from him, exasperated, and set the candy on the vanity across the room. He was tempted to follow you through the door frame, but he had the keen sense that he shouldn't push it, so he froze, feet inches from the threshold but not going over.

“And why wouldn’t I be okay?” You questioned, your back turned to him as you pulled a set of pajamas out of the top drawer, he swallowed any hope of seeing you change into them, knowing it was a delusional thought.

“Because of what Kelce said,” He brought his thumbnail up to his eyebrow, scratching a non-existent itch, desperate for something to do with his hands.

You turned quickly on your heel to face him, hands on your hips. The sudden shift in your features, from indifference to indignance, made him take a step back.

“What, did he say something?” You pressed.

“About how you, y’know used to-” 

“Rafe, I’m fine,” you cut him off, rubbing the backs of your hands across your cheeks to get some of the smeared makeup off.

Even though you always knew deep in your gut that he knew how you used to feel about him, the thought of him actually saying it out loud as you stood in front of him with tear stained cheeks was unbearable to you.

“But you’re crying,” he uttered, eyebrows bunched in concern. “I don’t want you to be alone, crying in your room all night.”

You stepped closer to him, and his heart leapt. Maybe you would invite him in, let him hold you until you felt better. But then, as quickly as it had risen, his heart fell again. You placed your hand on the door handle and glared at him.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

With a definitive click, you closed the door in his face.

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The patter of thick rain drops against your window is what finally roused you from your long sleep. You’d fallen asleep crying into your pillow, an old hobby you hadn’t practiced in years. The light coming through the window was dim, making you assume it was early morning, but when you checked your phone your eyes went wide at the time: 12:04pm.

You swung your legs over the bed with a groan, rising to look out the window. The sky was dark and angry, high waves foaming and crashing in the distance, a storm raging. The rain was so heavy the window was straining to keep it out.

When you opened your bedroom door, you nearly stepped on the tray of food that was sitting outside it. You leaned down and picked up the tray of scrambled eggs, toast and orange juice, smiling at the little note in your sister’s handwriting: “I’m so glad you’re here, we’re downstairs when you’re ready.” She signed it with a little heart.

After eating the breakfast in your bed, you steeled yourself to finally make your appearance downstairs. You were grateful that everyone had let you sleep in, but wondered if the delay in coming downstairs would only remind them of the dramatic way your night ended.

You placed your dishes in the kitchen sink, looking out at the backyard you’d fled so abruptly the night before. It was quite a different scene than the one you’d left, the pouring rain filling the porch with puddles, chairs strewn about from the heavy wind. You let last night play through your mind like a movie; Carter revealing your most scandalous moment during never have I ever, Tom’s big arms on either side of you as he flirted, Rafe’s hands in yours as you celebrated your beer pong dominance, Kelce’s words bringing all your fun to a screeching halt.

“No! Don’t shoot!” 

Yells from the large den adjacent to the kitchen pulled you from your thoughts. You padded quickly into the room to find the source of the commotion.

“That guy was on our team!” Kelce yelled again, ripping a video game controller from Maddie’s hands.

Maddie just laughed at his frustration, “well I didn’t like him so I killed him.”

“That’s not how the game works, Mads,” Kelce scolded.

“Well that’s how I play,” she shrugged, leaning back on the couch.

Several people were piled onto the oversized sectional sofa. Carter was sitting up on the cushion with her legs criss-crossed, Topper on the floor in front of her while she put little braids in his hair. Tom and Kelce sat on the other side of Maddie, eyes locked on the small TV screen as their fingers rapidly tapped on the controller buttons, deeply invested in the game.

In the far corner sat Rafe, reading something on his phone with a concerned look on his face.

“Love the hair, Topper,” you said from behind the couch. 

Everyone’s eyes shot to you, except for Rafe, who stayed caught up in whatever was on his screen. You found his indifference to your arrival annoying, but also intriguing, wondering what had captured his attention so fully.

“You’re up!” Carter exclaimed, accidentally pulling Topper’s hair as she turned to you, making him wince.

“I’ve been up for a while, just needed some quiet time,” you smiled at her. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“Actually, that was all Kelce,” she informed you with a knowing smirk.

“Oh really?” You said, raising your eyebrows at Kelce.

He paused the video game and stood from the couch.

“Wait!” Kelce said. “I have one more thing!”

He ran out of the room and you looked back at Carter with a smirk.

“You better not let him off the hook too easily,” Carter encouraged you.

“Don’t worry, I plan to mess with him a little,” you smiled at her conspiratorially. “Everyone just act cool.”

They all nodded at you, shifting when Kelce re-entered the room. Their attempted acting skills were adorably terrible, pretending to ignore you and Kelce, suddenly very invested in their own hands and the stains on the couch. All but Rafe, who seemed genuinely disinterested in the whole thing, eyes still glued to his phone.

Kelce approached you with his hands behind his back, looking bashful. He revealed his present with a proud flair.

It was a bouquet of wilting flowers, and a couple of weeds, he had clearly pulled from the front yard. You smiled at the sad, but sweet, present.

“I picked them this morning,” he said proudly.

You didn’t take them from him just yet, tightening your lips to hide your smile so he’d think you were still mad at him.

“I’m sorry for being a dick,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that thing about-”

“It’s okay Kelce,” you cut him off before he could elaborate further. “What you said…you were right.”

These words finally pulled Rafe from his phone, head snapping towards you in surprise. The rest of the group struggled to maintain their little charade of indifference, the air in the room shifting as they all silently met eyes, wondering where you were going with this.

“I did stay at those parties for a boy,” you admitted to Kelce.

Carter coughed to disguise a laugh, figuring out your game before anyone else.

“You did?” Kelce asked. 

You stepped closer to him, placing your hand on his arm. His eyes widened and he swallowed heavily.

“For you Kelce,” you whispered. “It’s always been you.”

Topper, Maddie, and Tom seemed to finally catch up with your plan as they tried to stifle their own laughter. Kelce had exactly the dumbstruck reaction you were hoping for, looking alarmed, stammering for words like an idiot.

“Me? You liked me?” He croaked, almost too stunned to speak.

You couldn’t hold it back any longer, his face looked so pathetically shocked you had to laugh. As soon as you cracked a smile, the group took it as a sign they could laugh now too, breaking into a round of giggles at Kelce’s expense. Even Rafe was smirking, looking back to his phone, but not before letting out a soft chuckle.

Kelce looked around helplessly, catching on painfully slowly.

“C’mon man,” he said when it finally dawned on him that you were kidding. “You really had me going there, I'm not gonna lie.”

You took the flowers from him finally, patting his cheek reassuringly.

“I can’t stay mad at you, Kelcey,” you reassured him.

“You forgive me then?” He asked hopefully.

“As long as you promise never to play beer pong again,” you countered, handing him back the flowers. “And you go put these back outside, there’s bugs in them.”

He took the bouquet from you with a dutiful nod and made his way to the front door.

“You gonna forgive Sabrina, too?” Carter questioned.

“No,” you scoffed, settling on the couch next to her. “She can rot.”

“You’re fun,” Maddie giggled. “Who knew you were so fun?”

I did, Rafe thought.

“I did,” Carter said.

The wind kicked up outside the tall windows, a loud clap of thunder causing you to jump in your seat.

“Y’all think I’m gonna be able to work on my tan today?” Tom quipped, an attempt to ease your nerves.

“I don’t think you need it,” you flirted with him, admiring the dimples in his cheeks as he smiled back at you.

Rafe shifted uncomfortably in his seat, finally putting his phone down and sticking it in his pocket.

“What are we gonna do today, though?” Maddie asked.

“I think you’re looking at it,” Topper spread his arms to gesture to the room.

“Good thing you’re so good at this game,” Kelce teased her, re-entering the room and jumping over the couch, making Carter bounce and lose her grip on the braid she had been carefully sowing into Topper’s hair.

“Dammit, Kelce!” She scolded. “We’ve been stuck inside for half a day and I’m already annoyed with you.”

“We could go see a movie,” you suggested hopefully, the idea of a calm afternoon in a dark theater with a big bucket of popcorn exciting you.

“No can do,” Topper explained. “The road is closed because of the flooding, we’re stuck here for the day. Jack and Sabrina went out for breakfast and they can’t even get back into the neighborhood.”

“Oh, okay” you frowned, bummed that your plan was foiled, but not that Sabrina had struck such bad luck.

Rafe didn’t miss the way your lips curved down with disappointment. 

After leaving your room last night, he’d stayed awake for hours, staring at the unfinished basement ceiling trying desperately to think of a way to get back in your good graces. The finality with which you’d shut your door on him made his stomach churn, wondering if he’d finally messed things up with you for good. But it was only your third day here, and he was a gamer; he didn’t quit and he didn’t lose. He decided he would take any opening he could get, and this seemed like a good place to start.

“We could watch a movie here,” he recommended. “We’ll make some popcorn and have our own theater.”

You looked at him for the first time since last night, surprised he was speaking to you, and even more surprised he was being so positive and helpful.

“Can we do it right now? I hate this game,” Maddie complained.

“I’d be down,” Tom agreed.

“Oh, uh,” Rafe sat up, catching Topper’s eye. “I have that thing I gotta do.”

Topper nodded knowingly, “yeah, we should wait until it gets dark anyway,” he agreed, giving Rafe an out.

You were dying to know what they were referring to, what possible responsibility could be tying Rafe down when he’d be stuck in a vacation home all day, but you feigned disinterest. 

It was decided, you’d all meet back here at dusk for your movie night. You had the perfect excuse to finally get some alone time, assuring Carter you were fine before going back to your room, slipping under the cool covers with a smile and pulling out the book you still hadn’t had time to start.

It was such a pleasant afternoon until the plot of your book started to feel a little too familiar for your comfort.  A love triangle between the shy, bookworm protagonist, a sweet, unassuming brunette, and a complicated, brooding blond. You finally shut the book about a hundred pages in, when the blond character, who was continuously breaking the protagonist’s heart, stood her up for a date. You sighed and threw the book back into your suitcase, adding it to your DNF list on Goodreads.

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Carter was sitting on the counter, swinging her legs happily as Topper stood at the stove and added spices to the soup he was making. You stood at the bottom of the stairs for a minute, watching them as long as you could before they noticed your presence. It was a rare moment of calm between them, no arguments or teasing. Topper blew on a spoonful of his soup before lifting it to Carter’s lips. She smiled at him affectionately as he thumbed the corner of her mouth, catching the little drop of soup that had spilled off the spoon.

Your heart warmed at your sister’s smile. She was not a relationship girl, or so she always swore. But you knew her feelings for Topper went far beyond a penchant for messing with him. You were struck with sadness that she would be leaving so soon, studying abroad in the UK to get her masters. Maybe you should’ve spent the afternoon with her, instead of a book you hated.

The door to the basement creaked open, and Rafe stepped out, looking grumpy as he unknowingly interrupted the sweet moment in the kitchen. 

Carter leaned away from Topper when she noticed Rafe, and finally saw you. You spotted the way Topper’s face fell a little as she pulled away.

“Needs salt,” she teased him.

“Yes chef,” he smiled back, though there was a hint of resentment in his tone.

Carter hopped down off the counter and walked over to you, wrapping her arm around you like you hadn’t seen each other in years. You squeezed her affectionately, hoping she could feel the love you had for her in your touch.

She pulled away, eyeing Rafe. He had bags under his eyes and he looked worn out.

“Where have you been all day?” Carter asked him.

“Just had to take care of a few things,” he ran his hands through his hair, which it appeared he had been doing a lot based on the way it was sticking up at different angles. 

As he brought his hands back to his side, you caught a quick glimpse of the pen ink that was smeared on his fingers, only adding to the mystery of what “things” he was taking care of.

You were going to teasingly ask him if he was down there writing the great American novel, but before you could, the large french doors that lead to the den swung open dramatically, Tom standing behind them with a big grin on his face.

“All ready!” He announced it to the group.

“What’s ready?” You asked, an amused smirk at his theatrics.

“Come see for yourself,” he winked at you.

You followed him curiously into the den, the rest of the group trailing behind. Your jaw dropped when you took it all in. He had transformed the big den, setting up a large projector and screen, stringing little fairy lights from the ceiling and filling the side tables with popcorn, candy, and a variety of snacks. The room even smelled good, Tom having lit some candles, and with the rain still coming down outside, the cozy vibes were off the charts.

“You did all this?” You gushed.

“Well you seemed bummed that we couldn’t go to the theater,” Tom remarked. “So I brought the theater to you!”

Thinking that might just be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to you, you gave Tom a big, grateful smile. Rafe muttered words under his breath that you couldn’t quite make out but sounded something like “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Woah, where’d you find the projector?” Kelce asked.

“They said it was in the attic,” Tom pointed out. “On the Airbnb listing.”

You didn’t understand why, but something about Tom being the only one to actually read the whole listing and pay attention to the details was attractive. You suddenly wished there weren’t five other people in the room with you and him.

“The only thing I haven’t done is pick the movie,” Tom admitted.

The group started chattering all at once, throwing out suggestions and arguing over each other’s taste in movies. After a few chaotic moments, Tom mentioned the name of a horror movie that had come out recently, and while the rest of the room chimed in with “ohhh yes” and “I’ve wanted to see that one,” your stomach dropped. You hated scary movies, you always had. Since you were a kid, you felt anything you watched or read very deeply, so when a movie was dark, it affected you emotionally.

Feeling helpless, your eyes inadvertently met Rafe’s. He immediately picked up on the way you were chewing your lip, afraid to protest to what everyone else clearly wanted. 

Shit that’s right, he thought, she hates scary movies. 

Plus, he knew you’d be teased for saying something, this group was fun but they weren’t known for their sensitivity. Your eyes dropped to the floor in acceptance, all of your excitement over the home theater fading as you settled in for an unpleasant evening. Rafe hated the way you were forced to resign to being unhappy for everyone else’s sake.

“Nah, I don’t fuck with horror movies,” he blurted out impulsively.

All eyes shot to him, most people laughing in assumption he was making a joke. When he didn’t laugh back, but clenched his jaw and stared them down, they fell silent.

“Bro, since when?” Topper asked hesitantly.

“Since forever,” Rafe doubled down.

“You scared, Cameron?” Kelce teased.

“So what if I am?” Rafe bit back, daring him to keep going.

“Hey man, that’s cool,” Tom assured him. “It’s not for everybody. We can just watch something else.”

It was like your heart was strung up with the fairy lights above you, Rafe and Tom grabbing either end of the cord and playing tug-of-war. Just when Tom did something so sweet you thought you might kiss him right here in front of everyone, Rafe jumped in to rescue you from ridicule, proving he remembered intimate details about you in the process, making your heart ache for him. Then Tom said something kind, and you were right back where you started. This wasn’t getting any easier.

Rafe could see the way your eyes flicked between him and Tom, he knew he needed to step it up even more. He rounded the couch and approached Tom’s laptop, which was plugged into the projector. He typed something into the streaming site that was pulled up and the projector whirred to life, the screen illuminating the room as the opening credits of a movie began.

It was your favorite movie of all time. Your heart swelled at the opening song that you’d know anywhere, this having been your comfort film since you were a kid. Rafe stared right at you as the rest of the group settled on the couch, no one wanting to argue with his choice. Your eyes went soft as you looked back at him, mouthing a silent thank you, just like you had done by the fire last night. You were astonished that he remembered how much you loved this movie.

“Perfect, I love this movie!” Tom exclaimed, pulling your gaze from Rafe.

Of course he does, you thought tenderly, your crush on Tom intensifying.

Of course he does, Rafe thought resentfully, his vexation with Tom boiling his blood.

As everyone took their seats, you hung back for a moment, taking in the whole scene and trying to clear your head. By the time your feet caught up with your brain, there was only one spot left on the big couch.

Carter and Topper settled in on the chaise, shamelessly cuddling up almost immediately. Kelce and Maddie sat next to them, sharing a bowl of popcorn. Then it was Tom, an empty spot, and Rafe. You considered sitting on the floor.

Standing between them, both boys looked up at you expectantly, shifting away from each other to make more space for you, both hopeful you’d sit a little closer to them than the other. You thought of the protagonist from the book you were reading, wishing you could take her out for a drink. 

Finally, you took your seat, crossing your legs and placing your hands in your lap. You turned and looked at Carter, who was smiling back at you sympathetically. She looked like she was about to get up from the comfort of Topper’s arms, but you didn’t want to interrupt their time together, so you waved her off and settled back on the couch to prove you were fine.

The movie began, roaring through the speakers Tom had set up, and you were quickly distracted by the familiar sights and sounds of your favorite film.

Rafe’s eyes flicked over to you every so often, melting at the cute way you were mouthing the lines along with the actors, laughing at funny scenes even though you’d seen them a million times. He was trying to respect your space, but eventually he needed to stretch out his long legs, spreading them so his knee was almost knocking into yours. He wouldn’t touch you though, no matter how much he wanted to. It seemed maybe he had almost secured your forgiveness and he wasn’t about to push his luck.

Tom wasn’t in such a difficult position though, his arm fearlessly brushing against yours as he reached for a bowl of popcorn and offered you some.

“Thank you,” you said sweetly.

“Do you like this movie?” He whispered, leaning in a bit too close for Rafe’s comfort.

“It’s my all-time favorite,” you told him.

“I’m glad we picked it then.”

We? Rafe seethed. This whole movie night was his idea in the first place, and once again, here was Casanova sweeping in and stealing away your attention. 

Rafe thought he couldn’t hate him more, and then Tom put his arm around you.

Anything, he would’ve given anything, done anything, to hear you tell Tom to fuck off. But you didn’t. You blushed and shifted a bit, nestling into Tom’s side and tucking your legs under you. 

Your feet, covered in pink fuzzy socks, were just inches from Rafe’s leg, tormenting him. They nudged him every so often when you laughed at the film or leaned in to whisper something to Tom. He got excited for just a moment the first time you touched him, but his heart cracked when it dawned on him that while you were touching him by accident, you were touching Tom on purpose.

Even though he was tempted to storm out, your obvious rejection of him nearly unbearable, he forced himself to play it cool and stay through to the end credits. 

The screen faded to black, and everyone stirred and stretched. You sat up from Tom’s side and looked over to your sister, surprised she hadn’t pulled out her phone and texted you something cheeky about him during the movie, but quickly realized it was because she had fallen asleep. Her hair was messy in her face as little snores escaped her lips. The only person looking at her with more affection than you was Topper, who scooped her up in his arms with ease and a peck on the cheek, and carried her to bed.

“Okay, so that was the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Maddie said as she and Kelce followed them out of the room.

Rafe sighed as he saw the mess that had been left behind, kneeling down to sweep up the popcorn Kelce had spilled on the floor. He felt the small window of hope that he’d somehow reconnect with you today close as you exited the room.

Feeling just as tired as Carter looked and eager to crawl into bed, you made your way toward the stairs. Tom caught up with you before you took the first step, saying your name softly to get your attention.

“I had a really good time with you tonight,” he said when you turned.

“Me too,” you told him, blushing bashfully. “Though I don’t think anyone had quite as good a time as Carter.”

“You’re probably right.” He had gotten closer, leaning towards you as he said it, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin, “the night’s not over yet, though.”

Heat swept across your cheeks and down your back as your whole body blushed. You had really enjoyed your time on the couch snuggled up next to him, but you were a notoriously slow mover when it came to new guys. You thought you might kiss him goodbye at the end of the week, maybe get his number, but that was as far as your imagination had wandered. You’d hooked up with guys at school, and you were certainly more confident with every year that passed, but you had accepted about yourself that you would always be a little slower than other girls, and that was okay with you.

“It’s not?” You asked, hating the shaky nervousness in your voice.

“Maybe I could carry you up to your room, too,” he propositioned.

With that suggestion, he leaned in to kiss you. Your whole body went numb and a nervous hum escaped your throat. You flinched slightly right before his lips met yours, signaling him to pause.

“Sorry,” you mumbled as he pulled back.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, brows furrowed.

“It’s just, a little fast,” you explained. “I’m really enjoying getting to know you, though. I tend to move slow.”

“We don’t have to do anything,” he continued. “Maybe I could just crash in your room? I’m sharing with Kelce and he snores.”

“The couch is pretty comfortable, you could sleep there,” you stepped away from him a bit, voice firmer. 

“Ah, but that’s not as fun,” he flirted again, not letting up. 

“It’s not gonna happen tonight,” you told him definitively. “We can definitely hang out tomorrow, though.”

He eyed you for a second, and your skin crawled with the feeling you were being studied.

“Sure,” he muttered, the softness you usually saw in his eyes was nowhere to be found. “Night.”

As he shuffled up the stairs without another glance to you, you saw that Rafe had been standing in the doorway of the den, for how long you weren’t sure. His hands were full of dirty dishes as he eyed you anxiously.

“All good?” He questioned.

You wanted to put up a front, make a joke to wipe the protective, caring look off of Rafe’s face, but your spirit was a bit shaken, and if you were being honest, you were just glad not to be alone. 

Instead of answering, you reached out, took some of the dishes from his hands and walked them to the kitchen sink. Your wordlessness was an indication that you didn’t want to talk about it any further, so he didn’t push.

Rafe washed and you dried, completely silent as you did the dishes together. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though, just an understanding between you that nothing more needed to be said tonight. You were immensely grateful to have something to do with your hands, a task to focus on as you recovered from the upsetting interaction you’d had with Tom.

Once Rafe handed you the last bowl, he bid you goodnight quietly and descended the stairs to his room. You dried the bowl and reached it toward the high cabinet it belonged in, but nearly dropped when you heard a loud “fuck!” come from the basement.

You set the dish down carefully before hurrying down the stairs towards the sound of Rafe’s distress.

“What’s wrong?” You asked breathlessly as you descended the creaking steps.

Rafe stepped back to show you the cause of his outcry. Sometime in the evening a leak had sprung from the edge of the basement ceiling, running down the wall and right onto his bed. The rain had stopped about an hour ago, and though it didn’t appear the water was flowing in anymore, the damage was done.

“Fuck,” you echoed him.

Rafe moved his luggage and backpack to the stairs to get them off the ground, and pulled the bed away from the wall.

“I’ll just sleep with my head on the other end of the bed,” he sighed.

“Rafe, you can’t sleep down here,” you countered. “I found some extra blankets and pillows in my closet, I’ll get them for you and you can crash on the couch.”

He nodded in agreement, “thanks.”

Rafe followed you up to your room, stopping at the threshold of your door, just like he had last night. You smiled to yourself at the respectfulness of the action. Though it proved to be unsustainable when you slid open your closet door and tried to get the blanket and pillow stored on the top shelf, unable to reach it even when you jumped.

“Can you help me?” You sighed, indirectly inviting him in. 

Rafe smirked as he approached, barely having to stretch to reach the bedding. Your throat bobbed as you watched him, his frame so long and lean it towered over you. 

“Thanks for these,” he looked down at you, holding the pillow and blanket to his chest with crossed arms.

“Least I could do,” you smiled. “After you saved me again.”

Rafe furrowed his brows quizzically.

“You hate horror movies, huh?” You quirked your eyebrows.

“Oh,” he mumbled, realization sweeping across his face. “No. But you do.”

“And you just really wanted to watch that particular movie instead?”

“No. But you did.”

The room suddenly felt too hot, as you bantered, your voices dropped lower, and so did Rafe’s eyes, landing on your lips. 

Not sure you could stand this close to him much longer without making a decision you might regret, you stepped away and over to your vanity. You unclasped your necklace and started removing your rings, preparing to begin your nighttime routine. You caught Rafe’s eyes in the mirror as he watched you take your hair out of its ponytail, letting it fall around your face in a soft curtain.

Rafe cleared his throat and looked down, digging his foot into your rug. You swore you caught a blush kiss the apples of his cheeks.

 “Well what are you doin’ right now? Wanna hang out?” He croaked.

You smiled at his desperate attempt to keep the conversation going. It was reminiscent of the way you used to search your mind for more questions to ask to keep him on the phone, or pretend you needed to run errands so he’d be in your car longer. Now, here he was, looking at you with big, hopeful eyes, completely desperate. The power shift was electrifying, a newfound dominance rushed through you. You had him right where you wanted, and you couldn’t help but milk it. 

“I’m feeling pretty tired.” You turned to him and faked a yawn, stretching your arms up, the bottom of your t-shirt rising to reveal just a sliver of skin, his eyes catching it immediately. “I think I’m just gonna get ready for bed now.”

He stood across the dimly lit room, every muscle in his body fighting against his attempt to stay in place. You held back a smug smile when you saw he was actually making tight fists to keep from reaching his hands toward you.

This would be all he would ever get, he thought. Just these little moments when his eyes caught slivers of your perfect skin. The tops of your sun kissed shoulders in your swimsuit. The brief hint of a dimple on your lower back when you bent to get a beer from the cooler. The curve of your hips in the tight jeans you wore today.

If this was all he’d get, that would be okay. He’d collect the memories of these moments like rare coins, only to be pulled out on special occasions. If these teases of what it might be like to be with you for real were all you’d ever give him, he’d make do. 

And just as he made himself that promise, you reached down and pulled at the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head in one motion, tossing it to the floor. 

You were wearing a black bra with a little white bow right where the cups met between your breasts, and he could see the top of your black lace panties barely peeking out of the waistband of your jeans. 

Rafe’s face flushed and his shoulders tensed as he looked you up and down, eyes wide with surprise at how bold you were being. His large body cast a long shadow on the wall, but something about the desperation on his face made him seem so small, so vulnerable. The rush of power felt unbelievable and you wondered how far you could push him before he snapped.

Without breaking the heated eye contact between you, you slowly unbuttoned your jeans and dipped your thumbs under the waistband, pulling them down and over your feet.

“Wh-What are you doing?” Rafe finally choked out, unable to stay silent any longer.

“I’m getting ready for bed,” you shrugged innocently. “And you’re getting ready to leave.”

Your words were pushing him out, but your actions were freezing him in place. He had no idea what you really wanted from him, but he knew exactly what he wanted from you.

Before he could ask if you really wanted him to leave, you pulled back the covers of your bed and climbed in. Once under the sheets, the white linen covering you up to your shoulders, you shuffled a bit, making the blanket rustle with your movement. His brows furrowed in confusion, unsure what you were doing now. Then, your hand reached back out from under the covers and dropped your bra to the floor. More shuffling, and your panties followed, now only the plush duvet and silky sheets stood between Rafe and your completely bare body. Rafe cleared his throat as he felt himself straining against his board shorts.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, the blankets sliding slightly, stopping right before exposing your chest to him. He swallowed hard.

You looked at him, your face unassuming, like this was the most normal thing in the world. The way you were looking at him, he knew he would do anything you told him to, even if that meant you really were asking him to leave. He prayed to whatever god made the perfect creature in front of him that you’d ask him to stay. But you didn’t.

“Hit the lights on your way out?” You said, before laying back and letting your hair fan out over the pillows. You closed your eyes and moaned softly as you sunk into the plush bed.

He bit his lip as he watched you get comfortable, his heart pounding so hard he was sure you could hear it.

“Rafe?” you whispered, eyes still closed.

“Y-yeah?” He stammered.

“Goodnight,” you smiled, putting an end to any hope he had for an invitation to join you in the California King.

He sighed in defeat, “goodnight.”

With that, he walked toward the door, giving himself one last look at you, angelic and at peace in your pre-sleep. He hit the light switch and pulled the door closed softly behind him.

Rafe leaned against the door, one hand over his chest to feel his spiked heart rate, and one still clutching the door handle, unable to fully let go of it, of you. He felt lightheaded, the realization of how badly he wanted you washing over him, leaving him breathless. Why had he been such a dumbass in high school? He thought ruefully of that day senior year. If he had done just one thing differently, maybe he would be in bed next to you right now.

The thought of pulling your soft body into his, holding you under those cool sheets, nuzzling his head into your hair and inhaling the scent of you until you both fall into blissful sleep…he couldn’t remember ever wanting anything as bad as that. His want, his need, for you was too much to bear. 

He couldn’t bring himself to walk downstairs, and as much as he was dying to, he couldn't bring himself to go back into the room and risk your true rejection. As he toiled over his lack of choices, he sank to the floor, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He knew it was pathetic, sitting outside your door like a stray cat. He told himself he’d sit here for just five more minutes, enough time to collect his dignity.

He fell asleep on the floor thinking about the way your hair smells.

(chapter 5: part one)

a/n: thank you thank you thank you thank you for the support on this story! thank you to this anon for the move night idea which really helped solve some plot issues I was having I appreciate you!! in the original draft of this chapter, Tom suggested they watch Hellraiser 2022...is that too meta?

once again, if I forget to tag you it is not intentional pls let me know! follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works to be notified first when I post a new chapter <3

[deestorytime]

Levi has always been particular about his appearance—clean, crisp, and under control. His hair is no exception, styled carefully with an undercut that has defined his sharp looks for years. However, due to the demands of his work and a shortage of time, Levi's usually well-kept undercut has begun to grow out, making it unruly and slightly unkempt. In the house you both share, Levi sat on the edge of the couch a book in hand, his eyes scanning the pages with laser focus. You, on the other hand, were pacing the room.

"Levi," you finally said, breaking the silence. "I've been thinking..."

"That's never a good sign," he replied dryly, not lifting his gaze from the book.

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. "Very funny. Seriously, though. I was thinking about your hair."

That caught his attention. He looked up, brow furrowing slightly. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing's wrong with it," you quickly assured him. Your undercut is growing out, and I think it would look great if we trimmed it back."

Levi raised an eyebrow. "And you're volunteering to do it?"

"Yes," you replied confidently.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "And why would I do that?"

"Because…" you said, stepping closer and taking a seat beside him. “Just trust me, okay,” you blurted out. “Please.”

Levi sighs, “"Alright, just try not to mess up."

"Deal. Now sit still and let me work my magic”

A short while later, you set up a makeshift barber station in the bathroom, with a chair positioned in the center and an old sheet spread on the floor to catch the fallen hair.  You carefully drapes a towel around Levi’s shoulders, and stood behind him, armed with scissors and a comb. You took a deep breath, steadying your nerves.

"Ready?" you asked.

"As I'll ever be," he muttered, closing his eyes.

You gently combed through his hair, sectioning it off. The first snip was cautious, the sound crisp in the quiet room. Carefully, you began trimming the sides and back, following the natural lines of his undercut. Levi remained perfectly still. He knew that any sudden movement might cause a mistake, and he wasn’t about to risk a botched haircut. After everything was cut to your liking you brushed off the stray hairs from his neck, the undercut is back to its pristine, sharp look.

“done!”

Levi examines your work in the mirror, running his hand over the freshly trimmed sides, and then, surprisingly, offers a small, satisfied nod. "Not bad. Not bad at all." He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a gentle embrace.

“I’m glad you like it, I take my barber responsibilities seriously.” You chuckled, leaning into his embrace.

[gracies-baby]

Pranks

(Gracie Abrams x Reader)

——————————————————————————

"Gracie?" Y/n asks with a smirk as she secretly points her phone camera at her girlfriend. Gracie turns her head towards her with a sweet smile, silently asking what she needs.

"I think we should have a baby" Y/n tells her, watching as Gracie's face turns pale as her eyes widen.

"Oh.. y-you do?" Gracie asks as she stands up, nervously pacing back and forth while playing with her fingers.

"Well, yeah. We've been together for a few years now. Money isn't a problem. Can you think of any reason why we shouldn't do this?" Y/n asks as she stands up, taking Gracie's hands in her own.

"Well, I-I just don't think I'm ready for that yet. My career's just starting to pick up and we're still in our early 20's. We still have time. I just think we should wait a bit" Gracie rambles on nervously before Y/n begins to giggle.

"Gracie, I was kidding. It was a prank. I don't think we're ready for kids either" Y/n tells her girlfriend as the brunette's face begins to relax.

"You scared the fuck out of me! Why would you do that?" Gracie sighs as she sits back down on the couch.

"Because it was funny! I do think we'd have really cute babies though" Y/n replies as she takes a seat beside her girlfriend, leaning her head on her shoulder.

"Oh yeah, definitely. They're gonna be adorable"

--

Y/n steps out of the shower and dries herself off. She's about to get dressed before she gets and idea. She smirks as she walks into the room she shares with her girlfriend, seeing her on a facetime call. Gracie stops mid-sentence when she looks up, seeing her girlfriend completely naked in front of her. A smirk appears on the brunette's face before she quickly says goodbye to who she's talking to before slamming her laptop shut.

"What're you smirking at? I just forgot my clothes. This doesn't mean you're getting any. You hung up on poor Audrey for no reason. We need to leave for dinner soon anyway" Y/n teases as she slowly walks over to the closet, making sure to sway her hips.

"C'mon, it won't take long. I'll finish you off in five minutes. You can't just walk in here like that and expect me not to want you" Gracie whines as she walks up to her girlfriend, pulling her into her chest.

"No, I don't wanna be late. What would your parents think about us being late to dinner with them?" Y/n asks, pulling away from her girlfriend causing the brunette to groan in disappointment.

"They would understand. It's not like this is the first time it's happened. Besides, they literally walked in on us having sex. This is definitely not gonna be as bad as that" Gracie replies, pulling her girlfriend in for a kiss before the shorter girl sighs, silently agreeing.

--

"Hey, do you have a pair of scissors?" Y/n asks her roommate, walking into Audrey's room.

"Uhh, yeah. Here. Why do you need them?" Audrey asks with a slightly scared look as she holds out the pair of scissors.

"You remember when Gracie pranked me last week and completely wrapped my car up in bubblewrap? Well, I'm cutting her hair. Payback" Y/n replies with a cheeky smirk, taking the scissors from her friend.

"Are you serious? She's gonna be pissed! She might actually break up with you" Audrey laughs in disbelief.

"Well, maybe she shouldn't prank me then. This is what she gets. Do you wanna watch?" The shorter girl asks as Audrey nods before the two of them go to the room Y/n shares with her girlfriend.

"I think she's taking a nap so we gotta be quiet" Y/n whispers to her friend before walking into her room, seeing her girlfriend sleeping peacefully on the bed as Weenie sleeps next to her, cuddled into her side.

"Y/n, she's been working so hard lately. Don't you think we should just let her sleep?" Y/n doesn't reply. She just picks up the dog, putting him on the floor before taking a piece of her girlfriends hair and snipping it off. She then begins pressing soft kisses all over her girlfriends face, waking her up.

"Babe, I love you but if I don't get some sleep I'm actually gonna cry. I promise I'll give you all the attention you want later" Gracie mumbles as she slowly opens her eyes before seeing a large handful of hair in her girlfriends hand.

"What is that? What's in your hand Y/n?" Gracie asks, sitting up now.

"This is payback. Last week, the supermarket was closed by the time I got there. It took me 2 hours to get into my car" Y/n giggles as Gracie quickly runs her hands through her hair before running to the bathroom.

"You cut off so much! What am I supposed to do about this?" Gracie exclaims, looking in the mirror seeing how much of her hair Y/n cut.

"You're gonna have to cut the rest of it. You can't leave it like that. You're going on tour, do you really wanna go on stage looking like you just had a psychotic breakdown?" Audrey tells her, laughing at the thought.

"Here babe, sit down. I'll cut it for you" Gracie glares at her girlfriend before sighing and taking a seat in front of the mirror, allowing the shorter girl to cut the rest of her hair. A few minutes later, theres a puddle of brown hair on the floor and a brunette with shoulder length hair.

"You know what? I think you look hotter with short hair. I honestly didn't think it would be possible for you to get any more attractive" Y/n grins cheekily at the brunette causing the taller girl to smirk at her girlfriend. Audrey fake gags before going back to her room, leaving the other two girls alone.

"Well, I'm about to have a shower if you wanna join me" Gracie smirks before Y/n nods excitedly, locking the door before the two of them strip off their clothes.

[juniperss]

Could you write Dallas Winston with a good girl reader who’s the daughter of like this really well known couple so her being with Dallas Winston is like a big NO bc he’s the town hood who’s in and out of jail and she’s like the ideal child, but she just can’t help the charm of Mr. Winston😉 and after meeting each other she becomes a bit sneaky and Dallas like breaks her out of her bubble and like gives her some adventure in her life🤭

I'm such a sucker for "good girl" character falling for the charismatic, rough and tumble bad boy. I AM NOT IMMUNE TO THE TROPE!!! Tossing this song here because it really fits the mental image of this request I had!

The Perfect Daughter falls in love with Dallas Winston HCs (she/her pronouns)

First, may present to you the fact that Dallas fucking Winston is going to be so smug about this? Cause he is. He's going to be grinning ear to ear knowing that the perfect girl from a well known and respected family is down bad for him. Fuels his ego big time.

She's not the first "good girl" he's "corrupted", I mean look at him. But she is the first to actually see him as more than challenge or way to screw with her family's expectations.

Everyone knows about Dallas. He's got multiple reputations and stories get around. He's been in jail, he gets into fights, he causes trouble, and he's popular with the ladies. It's hard to pick up some of the gossip and talk about him. But you've also heard good things (at least from the Greasers). You know he sticks up for his friends and that he's loyal.

You also know that he's damn charming. When Dally looks at you and smiles, it's easy to fall for him. And you do. You can't resist those big eyes and wicked grin. When Dallas picks you (more like picking on you TBH) to interact with....you just feel special. He's selective with who he choses to include in his life or hijinks.

Honestly he probably thinks you're just going to be a fling and he's fine with that! He was ready to have some fun and get into some trouble. You two probably cross paths a few times before you speak to each other; at the drive in or at school (not that he's actually going his classes he's just there to meet with Johnny and Ponyboy). Starts with him teasing you and your friends most likely, not gonna lie.....but if you stand up for yourself or snip back at him get ready for him to not leave you alone.

But when he realized that you were much more interested in trying new things that you had always been taught to leave alone? Oh boy, he decided he was going to show you everything.

Get ready for a whirlwind of Dally getting you to sneak out at night, sneaking into the movies, sneaking into abandoned buildings, shoplifting goodies from the store, jumping on a train.....He's down to push the limits of what you've known and done as far as you're willing to go.

Cut to the scene of you two sitting in a train car as it moves along. The moon is high in the sky and rural Oklahoma is moving past at an easy pace. Dally's eyes keep moving from the view to your face and then back out again. He can't help the smile when he sees that wild look in your eyes.

[powderblueblood]

NO SLEEP TILL - a runaway eddie au

summary sticking around town after the queen of hawkins high dies in your trailer is a fool's game. anyone could tell you that. but eddie munson's making a point of it; shaving off the excess. a canon divergent season 4 runaway eddie au with elements from flight of icarus. word count 1.1k warnings none, only that this is mostly an experiment.

Can you shut up and tell the story already?

It starts with a shedding. 

A snip, snip, snip and all recognition falling away under the dinge of a green-lit gas station bathroom. The acrid smell of piss burns through the stall, the kind that’s baked in and gets curdled by the heat. No bleach can cut through it. The ghosts of more’n three shakes and you’re playin’ with yourself rise when it gets above a certain temperature.

And it’s hot. Uncharacteristically so, for spring break. 

Snip. The last curling rat tail falls to the floor and he releases his breath. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding it. 

Looking at himself, shorn, his eyes water. Not from the smell. 

He cranes his neck to the left, to the right. Tufts of hair stick up from his skull like he’s just shoved a fork into a socket. 

He wishes he’d thought of that instead. But.

A sound chokes up the column of his throat as he grips the sink’s edge, ringed fingers slipping on grime. He allows himself to the count of ten. 

‘To the count of ten, and then we dust ourselves off and get back at ‘em!’ His mother’s voice. Embedded in the recesses of his brain, this high rasp he’s never stopped harkening back to. It’s almost fourteen years since he’s last heard it. ‘There’s always a good reason to keep going.’

True. There’s always a reason to keep going; it doesn’t even have to be good.

He doesn’t have time to get all vitriolic about what’s been snatched from him. Not yet, anyhow. 

He’s still all hot with panic, even though it’s been hours since he left the trailer park. Gained a little clarity since then. 

Not much, but enough to shoplift a pair of scissors.

He tosses the hair in the sink into the maw of the shitcaked cistern and tears open a pack of disposable razors with his teeth. 

—

The red line he draws on the map squiggles up and shoulders out. A straight shot from where he sits across the state of Pennsylvania to New York City, a bullet out the nose of a rifle. He intends to make it there just as fast. 

He couldn't sleep if he wanted to. 

Every time his eyes fall shut, it’s a clear vision of her. Suspended in midair, sneakers hovering above the stained rug of the trailer. The lights flipping out, making him wonder if he wasn’t tripping out. The snap of her jaw to a crude angle, one that it can’t come back from. 

He wasn’t tripping out. He knows what he saw. Her skull impacted on itself. The sound of her tongue squelching as she choked on it. 

Like something was inside her. Tearing her apart.

He knows what he saw.

Doesn’t he?

Eddie groans as his stomach lurches. His hands tighten on the wheel. He can’t afford to spit up any more bile, not tonight. 

No time. No sleep. 

A crumpled envelope sits on the dashboard of the van. 

A letter he never responded to, because it’s easier to forget people when they’re not right there, bumming rides from you. 

A return address in Brooklyn. 

—

The moment the phone rings, she knows something is wrong. It gets yanked up in her gut, some feeling she’s tried to stamp down because she’s a grown up now and she can’t be caught mourning sandbox shit. 

The competitive pace of her life doesn’t allow for it. She doesn’t have room in her schedule for homesickness like that. Can’t cram it in between classes and looking for an internship at a law firm that can overlook her humble beginnings. 

This marks the second year she’s been away from home for spring break. It was harder to fill the gap the first time around, and to talk her grandmother down, but she made good use of being a country mouse in the big city. Found some bars and libraries and bookstores she’s kept as favorites. 

Tried not to think about how she was so bummed out that she was forced to enjoy them alone. And failed. 

She wrote a letter, a long one, in a dinky dyke bar on St Mark’s Place which was all strung up with Christmas lights. She’d obviously flinched when she heard it called a ‘dyke bar’--so open and proud like that. It wasn’t like when people flung the d-word around where she was from. It wasn’t derogatory; just a descriptor. Toothless, in the mouth of a chick with a shorn head that had told her so. Almost friendly. She told her that her name was Tina, too. 

“I knew a Tina,” she’d nervously said, plucking at the label of her beer bottle, “She was captain of the cheerleading squad. At my high school.”

Tina sniffed a laugh. “You’re a long way from home, ain’t ya?”

About a ten hour drive. 

She got an impulse to write after two Mai Tais and another beer and a half. Dug a copy of The Dark Tower out of her backpack and started tearing out the flyleaves.

Tina let her borrow a pen and she scrawled and scrawled away in that half-light, letter becoming more illegible the drunker she got. 

She remembered that she’d written this, in closing–

‘In closing, I think you’re a fucking piece of shit stubborn asshole. A naive moron who’d step on his own uncle’s neck for an opportunity that looked shiny enough. Fuck you, and fuck California, and I can’t believe you’d fucking do this to me after everything and not even call or anything. I think you’re just like your dad. 

If you ever need a place to stay, you can’t come here.

But if you show up, there’s nothing I can do about it, I guess.’

Weeks later, gripping onto a pole on a crowded subway train, she got a chill down the spine that she was sure meant the letter had made it to Indiana. 

He never wrote back. Probably for the better. 

The same chill pulls in her gut when the phone trills at 6:30 in the morning. The phantom umbilical cord. 

She’s up, because she’s become all regimented now. Riding on a scholarship will do that to you. 

She picks up the slippery seashell pink handset so as not to wake her roommates, because they hate her enough already. 

Though, she really nearly doesn’t. Because she’s scared.

Silence on the line.

“What happened?”

“Ronnie…”

“Wayne? What happened?”

“He’s gone.”

Her whole throat constricts, her body fighting against whatever those words mean. Thoughts start running at hyperspeed– absolutely not, there’s no way, no possible way, I would know. I would know. It’s not that. 

“Whaddayou mean, gone?”

“Can’t find him anywhere.” The beat Wayne leaves makes her realize there’s cold sweat icing her brow. “But I found something else. Something bad.”

Not gone as in dead. Gone as in missing.

—

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS KEEP THE FIC ALIVE. lmk if you enjoyed this because i may continue to write it extremely non-linearly! as an exercise in examining friendships, paranoia and hanging out with eddie and ronnie.

[hayatheauthor]

How To Set The Scene Without Info Dumping

Accidentally writing a manuscript full of info dumping is every writer’s worst nightmare. Info dumping can distract your readers from the heart of your story and destroy their immersion. Unsure how to accurately describe your story’s setting without info dumping? Here are some tips to get you started. 

Tip One: Pace Yourself 

It’s important to have the right pace when you describe your story’s setting. This helps ensure you give your readers an accurate mental image of your setting and characters without boring them with too many details. 

One easy way to accomplish this is by dividing your information based on the scene. 

For example, if you’re writing a scene where a new character walks into the room and find yourself info dumping their appearance, try dividing bits and pieces of their description. Start with a simple description of their general characteristics, maybe their clothes are a certain colour or their face looks worn and tired. 

Only move on to describe more details once your scene progresses. Your protagonist could maybe notice how their green eyes glint in the sunlight when they take a seat on the chair beside the window. Or they could unbutton a very expensive coat when they take a seat, with the clothing indicating their status. 

This technique can also be employed for layouts and room descriptions. Maybe your protagonist walks into a very expensive ballroom with large bay windows but only notices the breathtaking view on the other side of the glass when they take a break from their dancing. 

Tip Two: Only Mention What’s Relevant

If writers always only wrote about what was relevant to their story’s plotline, info dumping wouldn’t be a thing. It’s easy to get excited when you’re writing your WIP. After all, there are so many different things you want to show your readers to make them understand the complexities of your tale. But writers can often find themselves info dumping because of this. 

Here’s something you probably didn’t want to hear: your readers don’t need to know everything about your book. 

It’s an annoying truth, but something you need to come to terms with when writing. 

As mentioned in my previous blogs posts, it’s important to know how much of your worldbuilding should be shown in your book and when to mention which parts of your worldbuilding. 

For example, saying a new character had a tortured look in their deep grey eyes that reminded your protagonist of the rumours of their childhood might be intriguing, but it’s important to consider whether or not that little piece of information is relevant to the current scene. 

If a piece of description or information isn’t relevant to what’s going on in your current chapter then consider cutting it out to eliminate any info dumping. This is especially important during fast-paced scenes such as fights or emotional revelations. 

Tip Three: Set A (Word) Limit

If you’re really struggling with info dumping then try setting a limit to restrict how much you write. Go back to any parts of your WIP that you think have a bit of info dumping and check how many words or paragraphs that part has, then set a goal for how many words/paragraphs you want it to be. Paste that particular text into a different document and start snipping away at unnecessary information or wordy areas until you reach your desired word or paragraph count. 

You can also do this for scenes that are overly descriptive. Following the previous examples, if you have a scene where your protagonist walks into a new room or a new character makes an appearance then try cutting out bits of the initial description and relocating them to a later part of your scene in order to meet your desired word limit. 

Tip Four: Get Poetic 

Do you know when people don’t mind long descriptions? When they are poetic and paint a vivid image in their head. These types of descriptions can help immerse your reader before you move into the heart of your scene. 

It doesn’t have to be long or overly dramatic, but a good piece of description can help you set your scene without accidentally info dumping. 

However, this tip should be used sparsely throughout your book in order to ensure you don’t constantly break your reader’s immersion. It’s important to ensure your poetic descriptions actually tie into the heart of your chapter. For example, don’t go describing a character’s hair poetically if that character only showed up to tell your protagonist something. 

I hope this blog on how to set the scene without info dumping will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and follow my blog for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.  

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and marketing tools for authors every Monday and Thursday. 

Want to learn more about me and my writing journey? Visit my social media pages under the handle @hayatheauthor where I post content about my WIP The Traitor’s Throne and life as a teenage author.

Copyright © 2022 Haya Sameer, you are not allowed to repost, translate, recreate or redistribute my blog posts or content without prior permission 

[firenati0n]

several sentence sunday <3 :)

hello my friends <3 thank you to @thinkof-england @littlemisskittentoes @porcelainmortal @magicandarchery @msmarvelouswinchester @getmehighonmagic @piratefalls @itsmaybitheway @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @nocoastposts @theprinceandagcd @dragonflylady77 @onthewaytosomewhere @duchessdepolignaca03 @priincebutt @captainjunglegym for the tags :) :) early birds dangggg!!

here's a snip from my au of the bear but it's a character study on alex (spoke about it a bit during a wip game here). this is chef alex aka carmy!alex:

Alex dices and slices and chops and juliennes, the top edge of the knife digging into his index finger and leaving a deep pink indent—physical proof of his hard work. Something tangible to hold on to, as real as the vegetables neatly stacked in front of him, as true as the erratic pulse he can feel in his fingertips. He leans into the sharp pain, his wrist aching and finger throbbing from the speed. His back is curled into himself, crowding his body over the kitchen counter, errant curls falling into his eyes as his knife moves at lighting speed, struggling to keep up with his racing thoughts. "You gotta come home, Alex." Alex's knife picks up at a punishing pace.  “Mom needs you. I need you.” Everybody wants something. He's not sure how much he has left to give, to slice off of his heart and serve up. Ugly presentation.

xoxo roop

+ no pressure tags under the cut and open tag as always <3 please tag me if you use, i want to see :)

@ninzied @cha-melodius @sparklepocalypse @cricketnationrise @orchidscript @myheartalivewrites @welcometololaland @anincompletelist @tintagel-or-cockleshells @sherryvalli @lizzie-bennetdarcy @heysweetheart-writes @inexplicablymine @onward--upward @celeritas2997 @14carrotghoul @cultofsappho @anchoredarchangel @candyspandemonium @nontoxic-writes @junebugclaremontdiaz @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @bigassbowlingballhead @alasse9 @ships-to-sail @kiwiana-writes @wordsofhoneydew @indestructibleheart @tailsbeth-writes @suseagull04 @rmd-writes @leaves-of-laurelin @eusuntgratie @adreamareads

[marlenacantswim]

when i'm feeling down, i just think about angelbutter living their lives together and suddenly the world is two shades brighter.

when @whoophoney's birthday started to roll around, i'd asked her what she wanted me to draw for her, and she said she was really in the mood to see Nicholas kissing Danny on the cheek. Unfortunately, I work at a snail's pace, and it has since been— *checks watch and bites lip* —some time since whoop's birthday. nevertheless, i've gotten it done 💖

closeups + lineart under the cut, snip snip ✂️

nick frost's face is so fucking fun to draw, and i pity anyone who has yet to explore how to convey his facial uniques in their art.

[elsweetheart]

hey can do you “when abby is mad at you/when you’re mad at abby” something angsty with smut at the end :))

i can! 😁🤍

mentions of spanking so don’t read if that’s not your jam but it’s very brief

mad at abby vs abby mad at you hcs

WHEN YOU’RE MAD AT HER:

• you don’t out right tell her, because well — you’re not great at confrontation. so, you get a totally stink attitude and make little snips at her all day. you can’t help it, you live in a world where someone could kill you for disagreeing with them and it’s installed a distrust in you despite abby making you feel safer than anyone else on the planet.

• abby can tell straight away when you’re mad at her. however, what she’s not gonna do is chase you. she’s a tough cookie, and you making petty little remarks will not phase her in the slightest because she knows you’re just trying to get under her skin as she’s clearly done something to upset you. abby knows it’s not coming from a place of anger, really — you’re upset, or scared, or jealous or anxious or something, but anger is always the easiest route.

• she’s going to completely ignore your rudeness, because until you can use your big girl words and actually talk to her about the problem, she’s not going to do the addressing for you. that’s for you to think about, and then come to her when you feel ready.

• i know everyone paints her to be a total hard-ass, but she’s so patient with the people she loves i can genuinely see her choosing to be the bigger person when it comes to you. she knows you’re ready to talk when the two of you are laying opposite ends of the bed you’re sleeping on that night, not cuddling and she finally hears you sniffling into the pillow.

• that’s when she’ll swoop in, pulling you into her chest and wrapping her arms around your waist. “alright, talk to me sweetheart.” she’ll whisper tiredly and you’ll open up, telling her what it was she did that made you upset (etc). she’ll sit up, let you cry, and explain herself before comforting you, talking until you resolve the issue. abby will stay up all night and get a shitty nights sleep if it means all is forgiven by the time the sun comes up, because as her life has sadly taught her — you never know what the day might bring.

WHEN SHE’S MAD AT YOU:

• okay. when she’s mad at you, things are a lot more fast paced.

• she doesn’t mess around, she’s not gonna huff and puff in the corner all day and glare at you from across the room — if you piss her off, she’s dragging you into the next room and having it out there and then.

• she’ll grab you by the wrist and bring you to the nearest room, boxing you into a corner and backing you against a wall. “what was that little performance huh? did i not tell you we weren’t gonna bring that up infront of the others?” she stared directly at you, brows pinched and cheeks slightly pink.

• you know you messed up, and you know you’re in trouble — most of all, you know where this is going.

• abby will never miss the opportunity to teach you a lesson. in a totally wholesome way, abby teaches you things everyday. she loves seeing you grow and learn from her, walking around flaunting her knowledge makes her infinitely proud of you. in a less wholesome way though, abby pretty much works on a punishment and reward basis— so if you piss her off, well…

• “abby, m’sorry it just slipped out. it’s not my fault you were—” you try to reason, voice high and accusatory and she cuts you off, ticking her finger beneath your chin so your head is nudged up to look at her.

• “no, you’re gonna listen to me now.” and then she’s gonna tell you off, pretty much. if you look away, she’s gently pulling your face back to focus on her interrupting what she was saying to order “look at me.” or “eyes on me when i’m talking to you.”

• when your bottom lip starts to wobble, she’ll go easy. she’d never be mean to you, but she needs you to understand and learn your lesson so it never happens again. you look worn out by the end, nose sniffly and eyes watery — and finally she’s pulling you in to sit on her lap. “okay, okay.” she comforts you, stroking the back of your head as you curl up on her.

• gently cupping the back of your head she’ll steer you to be eye to eye with her again. “still love you okay?” she’ll mutter, and once you’ve nodded or shown some confirmation that you understand she’ll kiss you — tears, snot and all.

• she’ll be soft with you, make you feel all fuzzy and looked after by her as she touches you carefully, easing her hand down to your leggings where she’ll start rubbing you gently and slowly. when you whimper she’ll chuckle, looking down at her hand to watch the way you’ll hump against it and get wet through the material. “god, m’so nice to you even when you’ve been bad, hm?” she cooes and you’re barely listening anymore, nodding furiously willing to agree with just about anything she’ll say.

• sometimes, you have a hard time feeling forgiven if you really messed up. that’s where her punishments will come in, if you’re somewhere that you have the time and space, she will lay you down and edge you with her fingers until she knows for sure you’re sorry — and on some more extreme cases she’ll bend you over and spank you a little so that you can repent for what you’ve done. she doesn’t ever really feel like you need it, but she understands this is how you can feel forgiven enough to move on without guilt.

• she always makes sure to remind you that she’s not mad anymore when all is done, and sometimes will even apologise if she felt she was too stern with you. abby = good gf :)

[cal-flakes]

╰┈➤ reunited, part two

warnings: mentions of violence, swearing, use of weapons.

summary: it takes rafe confessing his feelings to get y/n to finally trust him. read part one.

rafe’s eyes opened suddenly to the sound of y/n tapping on the window, attempting to draw one of the guards’ attention. the shrill sound of her manicured nailed drumming against the window was enough to have him on his feet, stalking towards her.

“what are you doing?” he asked, brows furrowed. scoffing, she ignored his pries, brushing him off. “get..mr..singh” she whispered, mouth the enunciations dramatically, before rolling her eyes at the man outside her window turn back to his duties.

“y/n, seriously, what are you doing?” he asked again, this time more firm as he placed a hand on her shoulder, pulling her from the window.

“i don’t need to tell you shit, rafe, get off of me” she spat, shoving him away. cursing internally, he paced the room slightly, struggling to find the right words. “look, i know i’m the last person you’d rather be here with, but i am the only person you have right now..” he huffed, gesticulating frantically.

y/n pushed passed him, rapping on the locked door with her knuckles incessantly, causing one of the doors to open the door abruptly. “what?” the man snapped, flaunting the gun in it’s holster, hung around his waist.

“i need to speak to mr singh. please, it’s urgent..” she plead, looking expectantly at the guard.

rafe watched as the man guided y/n out of her room, his hand situated on the middle of her back, pushing her. rafe’s jaw tensed at the action, growing increasingly frustrated with her stubbornness as the door shut behind her, leaving him alone in the room.

he sat on the four-poster bed for the next fifteen minutes, tapping his foot anxiously until she returned.

his eyes lit up as the door opened once more, revealing a trembling y/n, with puffy eyes and dried tears trailing from her cheeks to her neck. “what happened?” he asked, immediately reaching for her. snatching her hand away, she looked at him in horror.

“do you really think, that after everything you did to me, and everything you did to sarah, that i’d just give in? because you just happen to be here as well?” she snipped, her sharp tone cutting into him like tiny knives, desperate to hurt him.

he sat against the window as he held his head in his hands, chest heaving. “you-you think i meant to hurt you? you think that’s something i wanted to do?”

“an-and sarah? you think i’d purposely hurt my own sister?” she watched, mouth agape, as his eyes glazed over. y/n listened intently as his tears flowed, rambling about ward, and that he’s know who she thinks he is.

“i’m not the bad guy you’ve convinced yourself i am y/n, and i know, that you know, i’m what people say i am..” he muttered, drumming his fingers against his chin as he awaited her response.

“i don’t know who you are anymore rafe..” she mumbled, turning away from him as her own eyes turned glassy once more. fond memories crossed her mind for a split second, as if her own soul was trying to show her the truth.

“yes-yes you do, you do y/n! you are the only one, the only person who knows who i am, who knows i’m not som-some monster!” he exclaimed, a pleading look on his face.

he sighed heavily as his ocean-like eyes followed the confusion settling in her face. “did you never think about how it was never you? about how i always made sure you weren’t there, or at least out of the way when ward had me running about, doing his dirty business?”

“rafe, i don’t know what you’re getting at, but i don’t see how it’ll get us out of this?” she breathed, her voice shaky.

“because, okay- yes i made you cry, yes i teased you, but-but i would do anything t-to take back everything i’ve ever done, if it would make you see me differently!” he gushed, stepping closer to her seated frame, perched on the edge of the bed. “rafe, please just spit it out..”

she sucked in a deep breath as he placed a gentle hand on her knee, now crouched in front of her. “i-i have loved you since i was eleven y/n, i loved you so much i hated you! o-or at least i thought i did.” he sighed, bowing his head.

her features softened as he lay his heart out in front of her, hot tears cascading down his chiselled jaw. “and, i know. i know it doesn’t make up for anything, but please, just trust me this once, and i promise i’ll get us out of here..”

their eyes met as he tilted his head to glance at her, gaging her reaction. exhaling deeply, she allowed his words to sink in for a moment, contemplating the possibility that it was all a ruse, anything cunning trick up his sleeve. sighing, against her better judgement, she nodded slowly, wiping away her brimming tears quickly.

once more, happy memories ran through her mind as their eyes met one another’s, seeing straight through his hard exterior, all the way to those cherished memories in the tannyhill garden. she chuckled slightly, as she thought of the most prominent one.

his brows furrowed at her laughter, immediately standing up in disappointment. “who’s the crybaby now huh?” she teased, sniffling.

rafe released a shaky breath, relieved of the tension between the two. “i have a boat, a boat that can get us off the island..” he offered.

“i’m not leaving without the others rafe” she stated with a stern tone, laying down the conditions.

his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as his frustration returned. “i can’t trust them y/n..”

“what makes you think you can trust me?” she snapped. “because you know me, you always have”

“and i always will rafe, but if you know me? you know i will never leave my friends behind”

“fine. c’mon..”

[yorshie]

Hi! I saw ur post about the angsty prompts, hopefully you meant send them here lol. but can u do 21 w Donnie? 🫣

Bayverse Donatello x GN reader, SFW mentions of wounds

It was another bad day. You could tell as soon as you got to the Lair. Tensions were high, and your genius was not in his mandatory resting chair.

Raph was testing whether or not he could crack the floor dropping dead lifts, if the sound was any indication, and Leo was pacing in front of the opened lab door, sending glares down the dark hallway every time he passed it.

You fought a sigh, setting your bag in the empty chair ext to where Mikey was staring forlornly at a plate of pizza, pausing to rub the youngest brother's arms and press a kiss to the side of his face before heading towards the eldest.

You winked at Leo, purposefully cheery, and he softened, unspooled his arms to accept the hug you offered before continuing into the Lab.

Donnie wasn't in the front room ,you only gave a cursory glance to the various workstations before heading deeper into the purple lit area. Eventually you started hearing the sniffling, the stilted breaths, before a long drawn out curse reached your ears.

You rounded the corner, steeling yourself for what you might find, only to see the back of Donnie's shell where he was curled over himself. Moving quickly, you slid to his side, taking in the hastily set up sterile area on his desk and the rolls of gauze and ointment set to the side.

He was trying to change his own bandages again.

"Donnie," you said softly, hands hovering, not sure where to touch or even if you should.

Golden eyes squinted at you, hazy with pain and red from emotion. He rasped your name, and you flew into a panic, scrubbing your arms with alcohol and snapping on a pair of too large gloves in your hurried scramble to assist.

"I can- I can-" His protests were weak, and you gently took his arm from him, uncurled his fingers where he was trying to cut the old bandage away.

"Let me help, Dee. Please. Let me help." You snipped carefully along the side, mindful of his skin while he leaned backwards, sides heaving with exertion.

"Some... genius." He managed, grimacing when you started to peel back the covering. "Can't even handle this..."

"This," you told him, "is a third degree burn. You need to go to Dr. Marcel." April's friend, the vet, one of the few with the privilege of knowing about the turtles' existence.

The order was met with silence, and you chanced a glance at Donnie's face, startled into freezing when you saw tears running down either side of his beak.

"I'm scared." He admitted in a whisper. "What if... he takes the hand?"

You paused, carefully not looking downwards, not giving into the fear of looking at what's been done to your best friend, what he did to himself.

""Then I'll be there." You told him softly, so serious in that moment. "I'll be there, and we'll figure it out, together."

After you wrapped his arm back up, his other lifted, curled around you. You allowed him to nestle against your chest, to breakthe deeply against your skin.

"Thank you." He whispered, voice small and creaky.

You pet over his neck, the slope of his shoulders, giving him points of contact to ground himself with. "I'm not giving up on you, Donatello. Not ever."

[just-some-random-blogger]

Good As Gold

The Blonde Boys Club

Aemond Targaryen x Ranger!Reader + Legolas Greenleaf x Ranger!Reader

Summary: It had been nearly a century since you've seen a dragon, and the sight was as captivating as the first time (the dragon rider shared the sentiment [of you], your mountain ranging partner did not).

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, elf!reader, reader is also blonde, sassy!legolas, puppy!aemond, vhagar wingman?, jealousy, possessives, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: this fic is part of my blonde boys club series so if you liked my daemon vs geralt one you might like this lolol though they have nothing to do with each other also i dont know any elvish expressions and very little lotr lore and asoiaf lore sooooo if you would like to help/correct me im lol im down Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @targeryenmoony lol i hope you like aemond and legolas lolol Part 2 "Dragon Rider"

I hear my name echo down the mountain I was quickly descending. I was too excited by the smell in the air to care for either my partner, nor the fact that I nearly tripped, like, three times.

"Slow down!" Legolas chastises in Elvish, "you don't know what you're getting us into!"

I chuckle as I run towards a tree and lean there to turn to Legolas, who was quickly pacing over to me, "is that fear I hear, my prince?"

Legolas stops a few feet away from me upon hearing that, heaving slightly from the elevated rock he stood on. He then jumps down beside me without a struggle. Once he is before me, he leans in, pressing a hand on the truck behind me, narrowing his eyes as he scrutinizes my face, "unfortunately, I have learned to fear your foolishness."

I let out a soft, amused breath as Legolas withdraws the arm he was leaning on to push some of my golden hair behind my ear. He tilts his head as he asks, "what is so intriguing to you about that reptilian?"

I roll my eyes, "other than the fact," I pull away and begin to trail off again, "those beasts are massive and breathe fire--"

"Which have caused a great many civilizations desolation."

"Yes, but those dragons do not have riders. This one does!" I exclaim as Legolas and I continue down our way, "my father told me stories of when he witnessed prince Jaehaerys' mount, Vermithor, during a certain battle. He said their might was terrifying, and the fact those where my father's words intrigue me further."

Legolas sighs, shaking his head as he mutters lowly in Elvish, "foolish girl."

I shove him as we finally make it to the foot of the mountain, "you do not have join me, you poltroon."

Legolas raises his nose in offence, grabbing my arm as he leans down towards me, "the day I let a gobemouche, rattlecap like you off their leash is the day I admit to being a poltroon."

I snort, pulling my arm away from him, "I will count the days to it, my friend."

Legolas stills.

I walk off again and shoot him a look when he does not follow, "come on, gaffer. I will not forgive you if we miss them."

Aemond was stroking Vhagar's face as she gulped up the water in the river, blocking its flow momentarily with her jowls. When she pulls away, a strong gush of water comes rushing back its stream.

The prince watches the river flows for a moment. He turns over his shoulder, hearing something besides the water and his dragons breathing. Then he draws out his sword when he distinguishes the sound of the loud call.

"DĀRILAROS!"

Aemond stiffens as he withdraws from Vhagar, face tensing, body readying in a fighting stance as again the word dārilaros is shouted once more, though this time it is cut off.

"What in the name of the good earth are you doing?" Legolas slaps a hand on my mouth, muttering Elvish under his breath, as he eyes me darkly.

I rip his hand off me then shove him, "I'm making ourselves known so that we don't startle them!"

"And do you honestly think that wise?!" Legolas snips.

"Better than showing up soundless," I rebut.

He scoffs, "it's hardly our fault that other folk are incapable of going about their business gracefully."

I inhale deeply then scream once more, "DĀRILAROS!"

Legolas grabs my arm, sharply demanding, "what are you even saying?!"

I take a moment to think before replying, "I think it means princess."

He growls, "and what if the rider was a prince?"

"Then at least he is aware of my limitations in Valyrian!" I push him away once more.

Aemond watches the figures come out of the woods. He raises his sword slightly, calling out, "qilōni is konīr?!"

Legolas and I emerge from the trees, spotting the armed man with equally light hair as the two of us.

"What is he saying?" the elf beside me questions under his breath as we slowly walk towards him.

"I don't know!" I panic.

"You don't know?!" Legolas turns to me.

I turn to him, "I never said I knew Valyrian!"

"Oh," he narrows his eyes, "and how did you suppose we were going to-"

Legolas and I turn away from each other when the man barked out something in the foreign language again. He looked agitated, and I practically could feel Legolas itching to draw his bow.

I rack my brain, trying to recall the other words I remember from that pocketbook I read as a child.

"Zaldrīzes!" I call, raising a hand victoriously.

Legolas measures the man's reactions to the word.

"Nyke," I place a hand on myself as I think of other words. I hum, looking out to the side, "zaldrīzes... gevie."

That did it.

"What did you say?" Legolas asks, upon seeing the man sheathe his sword.

"I, and dragon, and beautiful... ... at least I think."

Legolas turns to me, "by the stars, you dunce!"

"What do you want with my dragon?" the man calls out, leaning on one of his legs, hand gripping on his belt.

"Hmp," Legolas sounds, "and you wasted your time making a fool of yourself in a foreign tongue."

I ignore this. "I only wanted to look at your mount, your grace!" I call cupping my mouth with my hands.

"Feast your eyes then," he calls, turning to his side, proceeding to speak something I could not make out.

All at once, the mountain behind him begins to move, except it was never a mountain to begin with, it was a mammoth fire breather.

Legolas and I step back, eyes widening at the sight of beast. The size of the thing was awe inspiring and frightful all at once. In my eagerness to take the sight in, I reel back quickly, shoving the elf next to me along the way.

He scolds me in Elvish impatiently, grabbing my arms to keep me from falling. I don't even catch what he says because I'm too preoccupied with being stunned to care.

When I notice the dragon's head, I let out a sound, eyes widening, lips curving. I mutter to myself in Elvish, "what fierce beauty."

Legolas makes a face, "I must report that you have your eyes checked. It is no business for a ranger to be blind."

I push him off and walk towards the dragon eagerly. I had forgotten all about his rider up until I made it halfway and the sound of a sword unsheathing and Legolas calling out to me frantically made me freeze. I release a breath, hearing the telltale tension of Legolas' drawn bow from behind me.

I look at the man in front of the dragon, somehow only realizing he had an eyepatch on, and raise my hands up to in surrender, "mellon."

Legolas rolls his eyes with his bow outstretched in his hands, "friend!"

"Friend!" I correct myself, "we mean you no harm prince, I swear on my honor." I turn to his dragon, "I caught the scent of your dragon and told myself I would not end my patrol until I finally caught sight of it."

The one eyed prince tilts his head at my words, sword still aimed at me.

"You've come here once before, have you not, to allow your dragon to rest?" I speak as I nod, "I truly wish to only behold the sight of the creature. I swear it."

He looks between me and Legolas, silently debating with himself for a moment.

"I told you this was a bad idea," Legolas whines in Elvish.

I ignore him yet again, but the other does not.

"What did your mellon say?" he asks, narrowing an eye at me.

I cannot help the chuckle that leaves me. I clear my throat to mask it, "that this was a bad idea."

"Mmm," he slightly lowers his sword, "you don't seem to share sentiment."

I shake my head, attempting to further mask the excited grin that threatens to spread on my lips, "I do not, my prince."

"I am your prince," Legolas calls in our shared mother tongue.

The man lowers his sword completely, turning to Legolas again, "what did he say this time?"

I slightly turn my head then steal a glance at the elf I knew would hold annoyance on his features. I was correct. I turn my gaze back, "that he is my prince."

The dragon rider lifts his jaw, "and is he?"

"He is," I nod once. I step back and extend behind me, "he is Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of the Woodland Realm, Prince of Mirkwood."

The reaction this elicits was unexpected. The man straightens up at the information, and to both our surprise, offers Legolas a respectful nod in regard.

"I am Prince Aemond, second born of house Targaryen by King Viserys and Queen Alicent Hightower."

I turn to my prince, watching as he knits his brows. Legolas only now lowers his bow to offer the same nod in regard to the other prince.

"And who are you?" prince Aemond asks, turning back to me.

I look over and give him a curtsy as I tell him my name, "I am the ranger assigned on these parts. I am also admirer of your ride, prince Aemond."

"How did you know I was a prince before introducing myself?"

I knit my brows, "we learn more than Elvish history, your grace, and I would think it is common knowledge that if a dragon has a rider, then that rider is of royal blood."

Prince Aemond hums and watches as the other prince walks up behind me.

"I would you very much like it if you introduced me to your mount, prince Aemond," I smile softly, "would that be possible?"

I am shocked to see the shocked expression that washes on the Targaryen's features. I catch the shine of his purple irises and even how his breath hitches at my words.

My jaw hangs low, just as Legolas nudges me, muttering under breath, "you've really done it now," in Elvish.

"I-" I roll my shoulders back, shaking my head. I bow when I say, "I apologize, your grace. I did not realize it would be a scandalous request."

"She does not busy herself with thinking very often when she is swept up in excitement," Legolas calls, coming to my defense with an insult. Quite usual of him. "What did you expect would happen anyway?"

I snap at Legolas, who was already looking at me in contempt, "well, I thought it would be like introducing someone to a dog."

"A dog?!" the Elf's face contorts.

"Or a horse!" I exclaim.

"You do realize that it is not common practice to introduce strangers to a pet."

Prince Aemond's laugh cuts our argument and makes us turn to him. He cocks his head to the side, "how amusing of you, ranger, to liken a dragon to a dog or horse."

I pull a guilty smile, "my apologies. Please forget that I ever-"

"No," prince Aemond raises a hand, stepping forward. He knits his brows and presses his lips as he looks at me, "I am merely... taken aback that you would like to see my dragon."

I pull my head back at how he stressed his words, "I see. Is it because we are Elvish?" I motion between Legolas and I, "as I have mentioned, we do make it a point to learn about a great many things--"

"Mmm," he places his hands behind his back.

"-- and I am awfully eager to learn more about your fire breather."

A wind blows again. All three of our blonde hair dances with the wind. Aemond watches as Legolas pushes my hair back so that it does not fly to my face. The massive dragon huffs at the blowing air, the deep sound the creature emits from their great, black, spikey body vibrates beneath our feet.

It leaves my own body tingling in excitement. My jaw hangs low as I look to Legolas with wonder, gripping his arm tightly, "do you feel that?!"

"Yes, I do," he looks at me with a worried face.

Aemond cannot help but allow his lips to curve slightly upward at the sight of the excitement before him.

I turn to prince Aemond, grinning widely as I point to his dragon, "zaldrīzes, gevie!"

His nostrils flare. He turns away when he smiles. Legolas narrows his eyes at him.

I hum as I grip my chin in thought, "I do not know how to say mighty in Valyrian."

Prince Aemond turns back to me, face still bearing remnants of amusement. He extends a hand out, "come. I will introduce you to Vhagar."

My stomach drops and I let go of Legolas, "will you truly?!"

The prince forces his smile away, "yes, I've just said so, haven't I?"

Legolas jolts when I dash over to the other prince and eagerly take his hand. It seems even prince Aemond is shocked my by actions. He clears his throat and looks away. I turn my gaze as well, looking out to the creature he called Vhagar.

Legolas is the one who catches how Aemond's ears begin to burn red. The elf clearly hears the voices before him, though it is hushed and he is following slowly behind.

"I have not seen yet someone so eager to meet a dragon that is not theirs before," prince Aemond says as he leads us up to his dragon's head, "perhaps, apart from myself."

I crane my neck out, trying to find the face of the dragon up front. I turn to the prince, seeing that his eye is focused sharply on me. I turn to my feet, thinking of a reply. I cannot think of one, and so I turn to him and say, "I do not know what to respond to that, prince Aemond."

"Aemond is fine," he says, turning away, "besides, I am not a prince to you, am I?" he says, looking over his shoulder.

I mimic and find Legolas is a few good paces behind us.

"A prince is a prince," I say, instinctively gripping his hand in mine. When he snaps his gaze to the sight of our joined hands, I loosen my grip and nearly withdraw. "I apologize, I-"

"S'fine," he mutters, releasing my hand to instead grab my wrist. His strides grow wider after that.

He says something indistinguishable to my ears once we reach the neck of the creature. The prince walks closer, dropping his grip on me altogether, pressing both of his hands on the side of the dragon's face once he reaches it.

The sight leaves me breathless. There is an evident acknowledgement between them, keeper and companion. It reminds me of the creatures I have nurtured throughout my life. It makes my heart warm and constrict all at once.

Legolas clenches his fists and rolls his wrists.

Prince Aemond turns to me, watching me for a moment. He presses his lips before he extends a hand out again. He mutters something under his breath, and in all my good hearing, I do not catch it.

I inch towards him slowly, taking his hand with more caution this time around. A chill runs down my spine when I feel his hot hand. It was much warmer than it was a while ago.

He pulls me towards him, stepping back and moving behind me as he takes my other hand.

My heartbeat begins to quicken when I realize just how intimate the act of introducing a dragon is. I then realize it was perhaps for this reason the prince was truly shocked and apprehensive at the notion I presented him with.

I can hear the prince's own pulse hasten in his ribcage.

He rests his hands above mine and presses it down until I am touching the dark dragon scales before me. My stomach, at this point, is rolling, crashing like angered ocean waves. I close my eyes as allow myself to feel the skin beneath my palms.

Prince Aemond's breathing is greatly taxed when he mutters just behind my pointed ears, "you are now acquainted to my dragon, Vhagar."

[aimfor-theheart]

kaeya figure skating au? :O

ANON........you are a genius for this.....need you to know this fr almost killed me. i took psychic damage reading this ask. its haunted me all night. i wanted to get to it last night but it sent me on an ice skating youtube binge watch. specifically watched tessa virtue and scott moire's 2018 olympic routine for the millionth time. then it sent me on a moulin rouge binge. you understand....

i swear i could probs turn this into a whole fic/series.

figure skating au

kaeya x reader

cw: none? sorta rivals to lovers.

∘₊✧───────────────────✧₊∘

this isn't working.

you slam to a halt on your skates, ice flaring and coating your partner's leg warmers with a layer of frost as you stop directly in front of him. just short of him.

the music, this passionate tango of baying strings, blares around the ice rink still.

"keep up," you snap over the music, "you're lagging behind me too much."

kaeya alberich, three time silver medalist, raises his brows. "perhaps you shouldn't rush through the routine."

"you're holding me back—i need momentum for these leaps and lifts."

"i'll guide you into them," he says breezily, "you don't trust me."

"how can i?!" you demand, arms flaring, "when you're always too far behind me!"

the music abruptly cuts off and jean, your coach, finally gets herself onto the ice to try and stop whatever argument has sparked this time. it's been like this since the beginning; since they announced the two of you would be paired together this season.

with your usual partner out on an injury and kaeya's desiring a season off for her wedding and honeymoon, you'd both nearly not skated this year. which, for you, would've been devastating. you'd do anything to stay out on the ice—even take kaeya alberich as your partner.

separately, the two of you are powerhouse skaters. the better half of each of your previous partners; you both can do the more impressive turns and tricks. but together? a volatile cocktail of arrogance and passion.

"what's the problem now?" jean asks, already tired.

"he's lagging behind me!"

"she's rushing the routine."

jean sighs, shaking her head. "you two need to get on the same page about this."

"tell him to speed up—"

kaeya huffs, "tell her to slow down. she's missing beats."

"as always, there's a middle ground here—" she says, then looking to you, "you are rushing a little, some moments you need to let breathe."

kaeya's smile is a satisfied curve, a cat that got it's canary. you feel an angry flush hit your face.

but then jean rounds on him, too, "and you do need to pick up the pace a little—you're peacocking too much on the ice. the piece needs passion, momentum."

"ha!"

"it needs you two to focus on each other." she says sternly, "there's a story here, between you, and you need to tell it. right now it's like you're skating separate routines, together."

after a moment of tense silence between the three of you, jean looks between you. "was that clear?" she demands.

"yes." you both respond, unwilling to look at each other still, though.

"try again. and focus on each other—listen to each other's bodies. skate together."

with that, she turns away from you both, grumbling something about the two of you being impossible. maybe something about divas. finally, you pick your eyes up to meet kaeya's.

"i need passion." you snip.

"i need breath." he replies back. but then he offers his hand to you, "come on."

you take hold of it, the feeling natural now to have his hand in yours, to find their places against one another. the two of you skate back to the center of the ice and resume your beginning positions across from each other.

you look at him, across the ice from you. he looks back. you take your poses.

"just focus on me this time." he calls out to you.

"you focus on me this time." you bark back.

he smiles, an amused curl and vows, "i won't take my eyes off you."

the music starts with low, plucking piano notes. you breathe deep. you keep your eyes on him. he lowers his chin, determined, eye lidded as he keeps his gaze on yours, too.

the first moment of contact is a leap into his arms, a burst of passion when the strings come in. he catches you easily, nimble and strong, as he lets you down onto your skates—then the two of you are moving, swirling, gaining speed.

as he guides you around the curve of the rink, taking position behind you, his hand on your middle, he says, "breathe here—take your time."

you arch into his hands, let him guide the moment as your arms flare in a bird's wing glide. he turns you to face him and you skate backwards.

"eyes on me." he says then, low and only for you, moving with you, gliding, and you—

you pick your head up to really look in his face now, to sway and move and see him. you move around each other, swirling, head whipping back around to keep your focus on him—only him.

the music swells.

your eyes on his. your heart races.

you move harder for speed. a lift sequence is coming up, followed by some quick-style turns.

"catch me if you can, alberich." you call to him, pushing for it.

and in an instant, he's picking up his pace, racing for you with speed and grace and determination. his hands come around you, one beneath your thigh, the other over the curve of your body.

in an instant, you're airborne, skates clear off the ice and flipping backward onto his shoulder. he's got you easy—he's got you fast—and when he sets you back onto the ice, he gives you a burst of speed and you launch from his arms like a bird taking to flight.

your turns are a sharp, brutal set. you keep tight, you keep fast and brilliant.

"come back to me—slow—slow." kayea calls and when his arms find you again, he says, "breathe again here."

and he takes you like that, gliding, guiding, showcasing the arch of your back, the extension of your leg and arms. you breathe with his hands on you here, body flaring.

you can almost feel his smile, turning around him like petals on the wind, like the swirling waves of the sea, or a fire licking around the tree, "that's it." he purrs, "now let me chase."

and he sends you reeling, sends you off with a burst.

for once, you both get through the entire routine. it isn't as clean as it could be but—

jean hollers when the music ends, coming back down onto the ice while the two of you are still breathing hard.

"finally!" she says, meeting the two of you, "a glimpse of hope!"

you laugh, breathless, as you skate over to her. kaeya's hand lingers on your lower back for a moment from the routine, before you feel it slip from you.

"did that feel better?" jean asks the two of you pointedly.

you look at kaeya. he looks back at you.

"a little." you admit sheepishly.

"it's a start." kaeya replies.

jean sighs, but she says, "now listen close—i have critiques—"

and you try to focus on her, but you can feel kaeya's gaze still on you. you can feel his attention burning straight through you, you can feel him at your side and behind you, all around you, like you're still out on the ice.

you can feel him, his voice still in your head, his hands guiding your body through every turn and lift and move.

i won't take my eyes off you.

[imababblekat]

Worth Promises?

**WARNINGS**: reader is not dead! i promise! but there is alluding to serious injuries and mentions of blood

~~~~~~~~

Anon Request,“May I request more Spiderman reader with the tmnt brothers??? Maybe Readers mask somehow comes off by being torn off by a villain or its heavily damaged from saving people”

~xXx~

Donnie paced back and forth, every now and then stopping to glance up at the raggedy old curtain that separated the infirmary from the rest of the base. Beside him Mikey sat, his face hidden in his folded arms over his legs, one bouncing anxiously. The two were not alone in their worry, Raphael and Leo also standing nearby, but the former was glaring daggers at the other. Feeling a hole burning into the side of his face by his brothers scowl, Leo snapped his voice.

“Go on, Raph. Spit it out already.”

Donnie and Mikey quickly looked toward the two, already sensing the oncoming argument that would ensue. Just as predicted, Raph pushed himself off the sewer wall with irritation to his tone.

“What are we doin’ just standin’ around?! We should be in there doin somethin.”

A red banded hand flung towards the direction of the infirmary, Leo’s gaze following to where their master had retreated moments prior, before returning with a matching glare back towards Raphael.

“You don’t trust Master Splinter’s skills?”

The buffer brother gritted his teeth, clenched fists falling to his stiff sides.

“You know it’s not that.”

“We did what we could.”

“Snipping already cut parts of their suit just enough to slap a bandaid on ain’t enough.”

“If you think slapping a bandaid on is the same as stitching multiple open cuts closed, then you and I have very different ideas on what that is.”

“Stop dodging the obvious, Leo. We should be in there! Helping Master Splinter finish up!”

“And you would risk breaking the one promise we swore by to do so?!”

“Yeah, I would! Cuz unlike you, Mr Righteous, I care more about whether or not they live than some stupid oath!”

Leonardo and Raphael were already deep in the others space, chest and shoulders squared and ready to go, but at the notion that he didn’t care about the teams mysterious, but very close friend, had a fire ignite in the leaders glaring eyes.

“Both of you! Enough!”

Out of nowhere, and with a strength and tone rarely used, Donnie had pushed the two apart, effectively sticking himself in between. His tone was riddled with shame for the two, not sparing either brother a strong look of disappointment that shot straight to their souls.

“Is now really the time for this? Now, when (s,p) needs us together the most?”

Turning to Raphael, Donnie’s gaze and tone turned gentle, sympathetic.

“Raph, you know how much each one of us want to be in there right now, but we also all made a promise. If we can stand by that we have to, for them. That’s why Master Splinter is in there and not us. He’s the best option we have to keep their secret. You know that as well as any of us.”

The red ninja turtle released a heavy breath through flared nostrils, visibly upset at the fact his tallest brother was right in all this. With a click of his tongue, Raph shoved past Donnie, not sparing anyone a glance and instead making way to his room, but not before frustratingly slamming his fist into a nearby wall.

Leo made to go talk with the angered brother, when a calm hand landed on his shoulder to stop him. Surprisingly it wasn’t Donnie, but Mikey who offered him a small lopsided smile.

“I’ll go talk to him. Just come get us if (s,p) wakes up ‘kay?”

Leo and Donnie watched as the youngest quickly trotted off to go talk some sense into Ralph, and while many would be shocked to see Mikey of all of them go, the two knew how particularly close him and Raph were. Once said turtle was out of sight after grabbing an orange crush as a peace offering, Leo heaved a heavy sigh, pinching the skin between his furrowed brows. Everything that had happened was starting to catch up with him, and combined with this latest fude with Raphael, a migraine was quickly forming.

“He didn’t mean it.”

Leo shook his head, looking to Donnie with a matching frown.

“I know. I just. . .what if he’s right? I know we all promised to never, under any circumstance, reveal their true identity, but does that really matter after what happened?”

He hated that part of him agreed with his hard headed brother, but from the difficulty won battle that occurred only a few hours earlier, Leo could not help the feeling. They had barely succeeded in the fight against rouge foot soldiers turned mutants, even with the help of their friendly neighborhood (s,p). When they did win though, it was like a huge weight off their shoulders, each brother giving the other high threes or chest bumps in celebration. However, the victory was short lived when they’d all turned to share in revelry with their super hero teammate, only to watch them collapse to the hard floor, breathless and bleeding.

The memory had Leo starting to feel sick to his stomach again like it had in that moment, and Donnie carefully lead him over to sit against some railing. The purple clad turtle offered his brother a reassuring pat, trying to not let his own memory of the event get the best of him as well.

“If we didn’t have Master Splinter, than yeah, it wouldn’t matter. But we had another option, and honestly, it’s a really good one. You know Splinter would never tell a soul or give any kind of give away at who they are. Plus, he rarely ever goes to the surface, so chances of him being in any danger for knowing their secret, or heck, even vice-versa, is like. . . zero point zero percent!”

A light chuckle came from Leo, his brothers analytical personality helping to make things feel a bit lighter. He reached to swing an arm around to rest on Donnie as well, the two now wearing tired smiles on their scaled faces.

“Thanks, Don.”

“Of course!”

He knew it was very unlikely, but Leo hoped that perhaps one day, his family wouldn’t have to worry about so much evil in the world. And maybe then, no one would have to hide any secrets, especially (s,p), who had managed to find a way into his heart right next to one of their closest human friends, (y,n). At the thought of the ninja brothers goober of a bestie, Leo was about to ask Donnie if he’d heard from you since the battle had occurred, when the shuffling of the infirmary's curtain had quickly caught their attention. The two brothers shot to their feet, seeing their father walk out with some dirtied towels and other discarded medical supplies.

Leo was quick to walk up to Master Splinter, Donnie right behind him, and greatly resisted the urge to peak through the slight gap between the curtain and the entrance.

“How are they?! Will they be okay?!”

“Was it as serious as it looked?! Were the supplies I had enough?!”

Master Splinter raised a hand, his long sleeve flowing with, and both sons stopped in their rapid talking. Lowering his hand to stroke at his long beard, Master Splinter simply nodded to the boys.

“Your friend will be just fine. Let them rest.”

Two very relieved sighs came simultaneously from each brother. Just as predicted, Master Splinter gave no inclination about now knowing the very famous (s,p) true identity, a seemingly familiar indifference of sorts the ninja turtles were used to.

“Thank you, Master. Don and I will tell the others, they’ll be so relieved.”, Leo grinned.

Master Splinter merely nodded, turning to dispose of the medical waste, his ears listening to his retreating sons, hands shaking with a deep sadness when he heard Leo question Donnie if he’d heard from you lately.

~xXx~

[faith369]

>>Cigarettes and Bourbon<<

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!bartender!reader

Warnings: nsfw (at the end), drinking, smoking, masturbation (Simon)

(Part 1), Part 2, (Part 3)

Simon looks at his hand, holding a cigarette, thinking about you. He wouldn't have let a stranger fix his wound, but he just got home from deployment, and the doctor's office is closed this late, and going to the E.R. for a cut would have been ridiculous. He tries telling himself it wasn't because he was charmed by you but more because he was tired from the jet lag but too pumped up with adrenalin to sleep, that was the original reason to walk into the run-down-looking pub, to wind down while nursing a glass of bourbon, not to find the bartender of the club a bit too attractive, while simultaneously asking himself why you're working in such a shithole. Simon only now notices that the cig in his hand is almost burned to the tip, so he quickly snips it away and leaves his balcony.

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

He tells himself that he's only here because the bourbon was good for the cheap price, while he pushes the rundown bar door open a few days later. As if he couldn't afford whiskey of higher quality. You don't see him right away when he comes in, being occupied with closing down the bar, but when the cold wind hits your back, you turn. Simon can see the surprise of seeing him again written on your face and in the tone of your voice as you greet him while he sits down.

“You are aware of the fact that we're closing” you raise a brow.

“You didn't mind me when I stayed longer 3 days ago.” You throw a glare at him and finish up wiping the counter before quickly walking to the door, to turn the open sign to closed.

Simon just quietly sits at the bar, letting his eyes move to your skirt, which seems to have slightly ridden up, exposing a little more of your pretty thighs than you probably intended.

"D'you want bourbon again?“ Simon answers your question with a small, almost invisible nod. “Why'd you come again?”.  "It's a bar, and I needed a drink.“ “I think you're lying.” Despite your statement, you don't push him further and make his drink. You catch a glimpse of a cigarette packet in his jacket while putting the glass on the counter. Simon's soldier instincts almost come in when you bent over the bar to grab the pack of cigarettes and snatch them away from him, but sadly, his eyes were too focused on your chest. “Give it back,“ he grumbles as soon as he comprehends that you just basically stole his pack. "I'm letting you stay here longer; the least thing you could do is give me cig, and before you ask why I didn't ask, it is because I knew you'd say no.“ Simon doesn't respond and decides to drink his bourbon instead. He watches the way you wrap your lips around the cancer stick you just stole before lighting it. He was about to make a remark when his phone starts to ring, his captain's name illuminating the screen. “I have to go“ he says, gulping down the rest of the amber liquid and throwing you a 100-pound bill on the table.

Before hastily getting out of the bar, leaving you with the question of what the actual fuck his deal is.

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

The water drops falling from the shower hit Simon's head, pouring down his body. His hand searches the support of the wall while he is occupied dragging the other along his cock, imagining his calloused hands were your pretty mouth or pussy. He groans, moving his thumb across his tip, trying to get an idea of how your moans would sound if he'd push himself inside your cunt, trying to get an idea of how he'd make you cum until you couldn't give him anymore of your bratty comments. He slightly increases the pace of his hand, thinking about you naked in front of him. Soon the shower wall is decorated with the white strings of his cum. Panting slightly, coming down from his high, the water already rinsing away any evidence, he groans out a fuck while running his hands through his hair. He doesn't do shit like that, he doesn't jerk off, especially not when he is in a safe house on a mission, and he doesn't do it to the thought of you, a pretty little bartender he only met twice.

A/N: Did this instead for learning for my chemistry and physics exam hope you like it.repost and like -Love Faith <3