#had someone drop off bags and bags of books today and they all smelled not good

[artificial-condition]

I know a lot of people aestheticize torn up used copies of books, like paperbacks with spines broken and pages doggy eared and the smell of old books but like. Working in a public library has completely rid me of that please give me the new crisp untouched books please

You’d understand the moment you pick up a book to check in and have to exclaim “why is it WET”

Now times that by hundreds and you understand my pain

[knightjpg]

Brick by Brick

You have his favourite tea on hand. You ask him what he'd like for dinner this weekend. One time you opened the door for him within seconds of buzzing, like you'd been as eager for his visit as he was.  And maybe most devastating of all: you routinely start making too much food for even Simon to finish. 

tags: 🔞construction worker simon/neighbour reader, unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), size kink, brief mention of simon's childhood abuse

part 1 | part 2

After that things shift, just a little. You still sit with Simon while he works, handing him tools he teaches you the names of; still try to convince him to get pay for his work around the house. 

But you have his favourite tea on hand. You ask him what he'd like for dinner this weekend. One time you opened the door for him within seconds of buzzing, like you'd been as eager for his visit as he was. 

And maybe most devastating of all: you routinely start making too much food for even Simon to finish. 

“Thought you might want some leftovers for lunch,” you tell him, holding out two tupperware boxes. “If you're working those long hours you have to eat right, you know?” 

When Simon opens them at home, just before tucking them away in his work bag for tomorrow, his chest clenches. It's not just leftovers. There's dried beef jerky, a pack of crackers that go well with coffee, and a fist-sized chunk of banana bread. And— 

A little note. 

His heart hammers against his chest when he unfolds it. It's nearly dark out, crickets chirping soft and low somewhere beneath the window. The only sound in his kitchen is the ticking of a clock. 

Good luck today! Don't work too hard :)  

“Christ,” he mumbles, fingers tracing over the ink. Pretty. Like you. Like every fucking thing you do. 

Summer is nearing its end, and Simon is running out of excuses. Part of him feels proud to see the house shape up to the best it can be, but over the months the boxes have nearly all disappeared. He knows—has helped you unpack God knows how many books. Helped you put together a new bookcase, even. 

But if he's no longer useful, what's keeping you from closing your door on him? Dread rises sharp and fast in Simon's throat when he thinks about a dark, cold home waiting for him as his only company. He passes your door on the way home, more often than not sees your silhouette against the warm light of your window. Illuminating the hard dirty edges of him.  

You've started feeding him, this big mean watchdog, and he might choke on his leash if you stop now. 

“Hello, what is that?”   

Simon sharply yanks his lunch away from Johnny's grabby paws.  

“None f’your business.” 

“Is that bloody banana bread? You've got to be fuckin’ me.” 

“That's homemade,” Kyle says unhelpfully from just behind Simon's shoulder. 

“Piss off,” Simon grumbles. 

Johnny does not, of course, piss off. Instead he grins, cheeky and wide. “Didn't know y’had a bird, Simon.” 

“Fuck,” Kyle groans. “Is that roast beef? That smells so good. Where'd you get this?” 

Johnny snorts. “More like who's he blackmailin'.” 

Simon glowers at Johnny, then says through a mouthful, “My girl.” 

If there'd been any hope of them dropping it, it's gone now. Simon realises his mistake as soon the words leave his mouth and Kyle and Johnny light up.  

They're incessant. Dog him at every opportunity—who is she? What's her name? What's she look like? Show us a photo, Simon, dinnae be so selfish. 

Simon suffers it for a week until he slams his gloves on Price's table and threatens someone's going to end up in the cement mixer by the end of the day if he doesn't do something about it. 

They quiet down after that, though they can't help but ask after you every now and then—even Price, who despite his congratulatory shoulder clap admits he wishes he had a sweet thing of his own. 

And the lunches keep going. As do the notes, every one of which Simon keeps carefully tucked away in a box at home. He didn't find one last night, and he suppresses the wave of disappointment. Maybe you forgot. Maybe you were just tired, and maybe he's grown too comfortable with your casual affection. 

So when a little piece of paper that was stuck to the bottom of the lid flutters onto the ground the next day Simon is unprepared. The two seconds of surprise cost him—Johnny dives after it like a hawk and scoops it before it's barely touched the concrete. 

“You little shit—” 

Simon's at him immediately, and Johnny, delighted by what he thinks is a funny fucking little game, twists and dodges while fumbling the note open with one hand. 

“Looking forward to dinner tonight. Be safe today,” Johnny reads before Simon snatches it from him with a hard shove to his head. “Aww, Simon, you lucky shite. C’mon, give us one o’ those cookies, aye? If you're goin’ home to a candle lit dinner.” 

“Get your own cookies,” Simon huffs, and curls one arm around his tupperware protectively while he eats. 

Looking forward.   

So is he. 

- 

“Simon!” 

Simon whips his head around and catches you stepping out of your car with a wave. You've arrived home just after him today, and his breath catches in his throat when he sees your dress flutter prettily around your legs. 

You're dressed up all nice today—must've been at university, then. Simon doesn't know which he likes better: the shorts you wear at home or the glimpse of cleavage he gets when you wear a nice work blouse. 

His dick throbs when he holds his own hand up in greeting, hanging back just to get those few extra seconds with you.  

He's not sure why today is especially bad. Probably doesn't help that every time he jacks off in the shower you're the one he thinks of, imaging your pretty lips wrapped around his cock. It's hard to resist the indulgence after a long hard day of sweating and laying brick, then coming home and only getting to look, not touch. He doesn't want to stain you with his filth, but what's he supposed to do? He wants you. 

And his desire has sat festering in the confines of his rib cage for months. It curls his hands in tight fists so he doesn't reach for you by accident the way he does in his dreams, keeps him from leaning in to taste your lips to see if they're as sweet as your cobbler pies. 

“Alright?” he asks when you get closer. You feel off, distant, and when you nod it feels like it's more for his sake than for the truth of it. 

“Yeah. Um.” You adjust the strap of the bag on your shoulder, shifting on your feet. “I wanted to let you know I can't do dinner tomorrow. I'm, um, I have a date, so...” 

The spin of the world stutters for a second.  

Simon sucks in a quiet breath. “That so.” 

“Yeah.” You look up at him with a sad little smile. Not the kind of face you'd expect from someone who just scored a date, but Simon is too wrapped up in his misery to notice. “How was your day?” 

Normal. Unsuspecting. Good, even, until you told him some twat is taking you out to dinner.  

“Fine,” he hears himself say. Adds, “Watchin’ a match tonight.”  

An excuse—an out for both of you. You won't have to feel obligated to ask him if he'd like to come ‘round for a meal, and he won't have to pretend he doesn't feel like throwing up. 

“Go Manchester,” you reply with a smile. 

Just like Simon, they don't score. 

- 

He waits up for you. It's pathetic, really—that of all things this is what gets him to dig around for a pack of smokes. Been mostly clean ever since you moved in next to him, his half-hearted attempts to quit finally mounting up to something with real resolve. 

He doesn't want to taste nicotine when he eats your meals. 

Even threw out his lighter. Which means when he finds a crushed, dust-caked pack with only one cigarette in it behind his couch he has to light it with a match and shaky hands. 

It tastes awful. But it's familiar, and sometimes he craves the burn even when he sees his dad putting out his own cigs on Simon's legs behind his eyelids. 

The evening grows colder around him, late summer skies tinted with dark purples and blues. It's quiet in the neighbourhood. He's the only one out this late—everyone else has retreated to the comfort of their homes, ready to turn in for the night. 

It should feel peaceful, but all Simon feels is anxious and on edge. Not even the smoke calms his nerves. 

Should he back off, leave you to the happiness you deserve? Throw everything away in one last shot, ask to take you out like he's wanted to forever? 

Words are no good, but he's tried so desperately to show you that he'd do just about anything if you asked. To let you know that underneath his gruff silences he doesn't bite the hand that feeds him and that he'd rip anyone else to shreds for raising a finger against you. 

Simon's head lifts when his ears pick up the rumbling of a car. Is it...? 

It is. 

Lamplight flashes over the cobbled street, and then the rumble of the engine turns off with a click. 

You're alone—thank God. Simon doesn't know what he would've done if you'd taken your date home. 

You look worn out, and not the happy kind after a successful lay. Just tired—to the point where you almost don't notice him and jump when you do. You take a startled step back from his hulking silhouette leaning against the stone little fence curling around all the houses along the street you share, before pausing and asking in a soft voice: 

“Simon?” 

And because he's a masochist he asks, “Y’have fun?” 

He expects a yes. At best a non-committal shrug—at worst an enthusiastic smile. But you look down at your shoes, chew your lip, and say, “No.” A breath. “No. It was awful. He was a twat, and he tried to feel me up under the table, and he's been hounding me at university for months, and I got so sick of it I just said yes but now I'm going to have to email HR and ugh—!”  

Your voice breaks on the last sentence and you sniffle, turning your face away from Simon so you can give it a quick wipe with the back of your hand. 

He's up on his feet in an instant, trying to take slow breaths so he doesn't act on the overwhelming urge to hunt down the wankstain and crush his fingers so he can never fucking touch you again. Your dog bites without warning or remorse, and everything in him wants to show your sad excuse of a date just how sharp his teeth are. 

But he can't. You're hurting, and that's more important than breaking some bloke's nose. 

And so Simon tries for softness as much as he's capable of it, large scarred hand hesitantly landing on your shoulder. It's all the coaxing you need to lean into his touch, and when Simon shifts a little closer your head falls on his shoulder. He burns with a different kind of fire. 

“Sorry,” you sniffle. “I'm okay, I really am, it was just such a—such a—” 

“S’alright,” Simon rasps. He pets your hair and strokes your back with a clumsy touch, unsure of how far he should, can, is allowed to go. “Y’should've called me. Would've come t’pick you up, maybe sock him a new one.”  

He'd do more than that if you'd let him. He'd take you home and made sure the only time you cried was when he worked his fat cock inside you. 

Christ, he's going to hell. 

“I didn't want to bother you,” you say in a small voice. 

“Sweetheart. You're never botherin’ me.” You let out a shaky sigh, and Simon tucks your head under his chin a little more securely. “Woulda made sure y’got home safe.” 

It's quiet, then, save for the sound of a car driving away somewhere down the road. Simon doesn't say anything else. He doesn't want to break the spell that you're under. You feel so soft in his arms, his sweet bird, finally come home to where you belong. 

“I kept wishing it was you.” Your voice is so soft he almost doesn't catch it, but before he can process it you pull yourself out of his embrace, cursing under your breath. “Sorry. Sorry—forget I said that. I'm... I'm gonna go home.” 

Simon's hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. You stare at him with big wet eyes that has the pit of his stomach swoop low. 

“Y’wish it was me?” 

His voice is low and rough, strained with want. 

Your cheeks burn and you avert your eyes, though you don't pull your hand away. “Sorry. Ignore me, I'm just...” 

“I'll take you,” Simon says a little too quickly. “Anywhere you wanna go. Dinner. Movies.” He pauses, trying to remember what people do for fun. “The library.” 

There. You hiccup a little laugh, finally, and the beginnings of a smile tug at your mouth. 

“The library?” 

Simon smiles a little, too. “Anywhere you want,” he repeats. Even the fucking library. 

Your gaze drops to your hands, and you carefully turn your palm against his. “I think I'd like that.” 

Simon swallows and lets his fingers intertwine with yours. “Yeah?” 

“I don't really care where we go, though. If it's with you.” 

Jesus bloody Christ. 

“Okay,” Simon says, voice tight. “Alright. We'll—we'll figure it out. We'll go somewhere.” A breeze hits you as he says it, and you shiver. “...Right now let's just get you home.” 

You nod, the fatigue overtaking your features again. Simon walks you all the way to your door, squints against the night sensor he installed himself. 

You hover in the doorway before opening your mouth, closing it, then take a small step forward to rise on your toes. Simon's heartbeat kicks up under your hand where you steady yourself on his chest, and then he feels your lips press against his cheek. It's his bad one, the one with the nasty scar from a bar fight long ago. 

“Thanks,” you say softly. 

“Yeah,” he manages, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. “’Course.” 

The door closes with a soft click.  

- 

When you mention wanting to hike out on a trail nearby Simon, true to his word, makes it happen. It's not so bloody hot anymore and it's nice, hearing the birds chirp overhead. Nice to exist in a world where everything is washed in shades of mottled green, hearing the dirt crunch under his feet.  

It relaxes him. Makes his muscles untense. You promised him a picnic at the end of the trail, and to Simon's delight he succeeds in coaxing you to feed him bites of your homemade sandwiches in the midst of tall grass and meadow flowers. 

When you get home, sweat and sun lingering on your skin, Simon has full intentions of dropping you off at your doorstep and wishing you a good night. Maybe get another kiss if he's lucky. 

And he does—but you linger, soft lips hovering over his cheek. His fingers curl and uncurl against his sides, waiting and wondering. 

“Please kiss me?” you breathe on his skin, and that's all it takes. 

He surprises himself with the intensity of it, but fucking hell, he's wanted you for so long. His shoulders hunch, neck bent low, and he slots his mouth over yours. Your little fingers grab at his shirt for balance, and he pushes you against your doorframe. Every time he pulls away you make a small noise of protest and chase his lips, and though Simon hasn't had a drop of alcohol today he feels well on his way to hammered. 

“Do you want to—please come inside—?” 

Simon groans and rests his forehead against yours. Fuck. “I want to—want t’do this right,” he rasps. 

You exhale with a shaky breath. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes glittering like stars. Simon's stomach lurches at seeing you want him. “Right, um. Of course. I just—I've thought about... about you. For a—a really long timmf—” 

Simon groans into your mouth. He cups your cheeks, one hand sliding to hold you at the back of your neck. A sweat breaks out along his spine when he imagines you at night, in your bedroom, fucking yourself with your little fingers. Whimpering his name... 

“Yeah? Y’want me to take you to bed, sweetheart?” he murmurs, and you shiver. 

The two of you barely make it past the door until Simon is stealing the breath from your lungs again. He's wanted this for so long it's a little hard to stop, even if it's to break apart for air. Miraculously you seem to want it as much as he does, seem as desperate for his touch as he is for yours. 

When has anyone wanted him this bad? When has he ever felt like he'd die on the spot if he didn't get inside you right the fuck now? 

He doesn't need to ask you where the bedroom is. This place has felt his touch almost as much as yours, has shaped up into a cosy little home that is part of him, too. Like he wants to be part of you. 

Simon simply scoops you up and carries you straight to bed, forgetting to be gentle when he deposits on the mattress. His head is buzzing, his heart is thundering, and he needs you now.  

Fortunately you don't seem to mind much. Your hands immediately fly to his belt, tug at the metal impatiently, then fumble with his zipper with trembling hands. Simon pulls your top over your head, throws it somewhere on the floor without a care followed by his own. 

“Lie back,” he husks, and makes quick work of your trousers. Pauses just for a second to take in the growing wet patch of your panties. 

“Simon,” you whine softly. 

He drops to his knees and slides his large hands over your thighs, transfixed. He smooths over the goosebumps on your legs, presses a kiss to your knee. 

“Want me t’take these off?” he rasps, snapping the band of your panties. You lift your hips in silent assent. Simon helps you shimmy off your underwear and suppresses a moan when a string of sticky arousal clings to the fabric—then follows it right to the source. 

You gasp when he kisses your folds before gently spreading them with big warm fingers. “Sweet little cunt,” Simon mutters, and then he goes to town. 

He starts with slow, wet licks, feeling out what you like and what's too much. He keeps it light for a while just to feel you squirm and to hear your breathing turn ragged, then backs off just when your knees start trembling. He smiles when you whimper his name with a desperate little “please". 

“Such good manners.” His breath washes over your clit, and your hips try to twitch away from him. “Proper sweetheart, yeah?” 

It's great fun, playing with you, but his cock is throbbing painfully and he's leaking everywhere, and he very much intends for you to end the night feeling so blissed out you let him sleep next to you. 

So Simon hoists you closer, hooks your thighs over his shoulder, and sucks on your clit until you're sobbing his name. He holds your hips down by splaying one big hand over your stomach because you're a sensitive little thing, bucking away from him when he's not nearly done with you yet.  

It's cute, seeing you lose yourself to the pleasure. It's also really fucking hot. Simon slowly pushes one finger in you and groans when you clench around him. 

“Simon,” you whimper. “Oh, please, please—” 

Such a good girl, begging without him telling you to. Simon crooks his finger, and your next breath is a stutter of moans before your whole body tenses and you cum on his tongue. 

Simon hums approvingly, keeping his motions slow and steady so you ride it out all the way. When you whine and wriggle away from him he lets up, wiping at your slick covering his chin. 

Best meal you've cooked him by far. 

“Oh,” you sigh. “That was... Give me—give me a minute...” 

Simon chuckles and rises from his knees to crawl over you and steal a kiss. “Feelin’ good, princess?” 

“Princess—” you let out a breathless laugh, but even in the low light of your nightstand lamp Simon sees the colour rise in your cheeks. Liked that, did you? You blink up at him, a sweet satisfied smile on your lips. “Mhm. So good. Come here?” 

Your hands trail over his sides, stroke over the light hair trailing down his stomach. Simon shudders when your knuckles brush over his cock and he shucks off his trousers further to give you better access. 

When you wrap your hand around him he drops his head into the crook of your shoulder and moans. The twitch of his hips is involuntary, too desperate to chase his pleasure to stay put. 

“Next time,” you whisper while pulling him forward, spreading your legs wider to fit around his hips, “I want to feel you in my mouth.” 

“Jesus,” he groans. It takes everything in him to not just slide in. “We need a condom?” 

“I'm clean,” you murmur against his jaw. “On birth control. If you want we can—” 

“Fuck yeah I do,” Simon says, and you laugh. Soft eyes when your hands slide over his shoulders, brush through the short hair on his neck. Simon watches your face while he lines himself up without blinking, and he's rewarded with the flutter of your eyelashes, the parting of your soft lips. 

Your brows scrunch together at the first few inches, and he kisses you sweetly to make you relax. Simon knows he's not small, and he groans when you clench around him. 

“Good girl,” he whispers against your hair. “Good girl. Just like that, yeah? Takin’ it real well. Just like that.” 

He slides in a little deeper. You shiver and mewl and beg him for more, and he gives it to you. Anything you want.  

“Simon,” you whimper. “Feels so—oh, you feel so good. More, please, please—?” 

Simon brushes the hair from your forehead, keeping his thrusts long and slow and making sure to kiss your cervix each time, just because your breath stutters so prettily every time he does. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, you're so—such a tight little cunt. Couldn't wait any longer, could you? Jus’ had to have me?” 

You nod immediately and empathically, eyes glassy with arousal. You try to answer him, but the only thing you manage are airy moans that sound like his name. 

That's alright. Don't need to talk. He knows what you want to say; he feels the same. Simon catches you in a messy kiss while lacing his fingers with yours. Yours. Mine.  

He shoves his free hand between your two bodies and finds your clit, circling it until he's found the right rhythm that has tears gathering in your eyes. He could live on that for the rest of his life, of hearing you mindlessly stuttering his name while your body tenses up and your head drops back and those pretty lips part in a choked moan— 

“Christ,” Simon grits through his teeth, sweat dampening his brow. Your cunt flutters around him, soft little flower in full bloom that, with another thrust or two, has him falling apart as well. 

Both of you moan at the feeling of his cum spurting hot and thick in your waiting womb. Simon rocks against you slowly to make sure you get every last drop—birth control or not. 

He kisses you on the comedown. You melt into his touch, butter and honey, running your fingers through his hair until Simon shifts you around so you're curled up against him. 

In another minute he'll get up and get you a washcloth before tucking you in and kissing your bare shoulders. He'll wrap himself around you before sleep takes you, make sure that he's the last thing you see and hear and touch. 

For now he lets himself bask in the present. In having a sweet little bird clinging to him for comfort and giving him more than he could ever ask for in return. 

Simon doesn't think you quite realise what you've gotten yourself into, in giving this big ugly watchdog your affection. He's not a king or a prince; not even a knight, not like the ones you read so much about. Simon wouldn't exactly call himself chivalrous or genteel. 

But he's just as devoted and twice as vicious. He'll belong to you, and you to him, and from the moment he saw you he was oath-bound. 

He'll have to steal a ring or two to measure which size is right. It'll take some work to knock down the walls between your two houses, but he'll ask the lads for help. Simon knows you'll win them over right away if you cook dinner or bake them something sweet. 

And maybe in time he'll have to try his own hand at baking. He always did want to put a bun in the oven, and Simon just knows that if you're the one to do it with him— 

It'll come out perfect. 

[heartfullofleeches]

Monster reader is my top fav of ALL readers.

Like just imagine if Monster reader just wanted food so they go into a place that looks like it has food. And somehow walks into a cult meeting that give their upmost dedication to some monster god that looks similar to monster reader lol.

“ Today, we have come together to give our upmost dedication and beliefs into our savior. Our savior who gave us our life and our creation! And that is why today, we will be sacrificing this fool who dared to disrespect- Door opens

“ Oh. Sorry for interrupting, but I was wondering if you have any spare food?”

“….. OUR SAVIOR HAS FINALLY RETURNED!”

“ FORGIVE US FOR BASKING IN YOUR PRESENCE WITH ASKING MY LORD!! EVERYONE GET ON YOUR KNEES AND PRAY FOR FORGIVENESS!”

Lol.

(small mention of gore)

Two months, fourteen days, and five hours.

The longest you've ever went without food. If you were human, the time frame would have held a heavy tax on your body if not killing you out right, but all it did leave was dull pains in your abdomen. During said period, you found a nice cave to sleep in and recover from the injuries sustained in your escape from the facility that stole you from your home. The rest cured your broken bones and scrapes, but unfortunately like every living creature - you needed to eat.

The area you resided in didn't have much going for it in the food category. Most of the edible plants and berries had been picked clean, and you were took out of practice to hunt for your meal. Being locked in a white room with meat thrown at you randomly really put you out of shape in more ways than one. Your fears of having to leave the forest were extinguished with the discovery of an old wrapper found one evening near a neck of the woods you had yet to explore.

The guards at that place walked around with similar papers, filling you with unease, but that anxiety goes out the door the second your nose picks up on a familiar smell. Raw meat.

Climbing over some rocks, you spot a collection of wooden enclosures with strange symbols painted atop. The books the researchers made you read never talked about those. Their knowledge led you to the conclusion that these buildings were cabins and the one where that alluring smell was coming from was the closest to you. There was noise from the neighboring buildings, but if you acted quietly then maybe you could just grab enough food to hold you off for a while and they'd be none the wiser.

Creeping past the red tap that secludes the camp from the rest of the forest, a shrill scream pierces the heavens. It pins you to place, the memories of the cellmates you lost rushing to mind. Is someone hurt? Despite your experiences with others, you wanted to help, but you needed strength in case of any danger.

You hurry to the door, breaking the lock and flinging yourself into the darkness. Your advanced sight guides you through the shadows and straight to your prize. The blinding light from the icebox is the most beautiful pain you've ever witnessed. Forgetting the manners you learned overtime, you claw open various bags of dead flesh and wolf down whatever you can get your hands on. A few of the bags have names on them, but you're too hungry to care why. Bewteen the wet squish of your teeth gnashing shut, a hush blows through the crowd forming outside.

"I told you I heard something, dude. Probably a fucking bear or something. It's eating the reserves."

"Relax. I'll handle it."

The light flickers on. You've been found The guilt you felt for eating the human's food without asking turns into panic as the first thing you see is the barrel of a shotgun pointed square blank at your face. You drop the meat in your hands and cower against the back wall; your first week of freedom spent pushing bullets of the same caliber out your spine. Your lips curl over your teeth as it clatters to the ground in front of you, still afraid as if it could do anything without a handler.

"Could it be?..."

You look up at the robed figures filling the room, the creases of their faces twisted in awe or fright. The first to fall is the one holding the weapon, followed by the rest of their group as they fall to their knees, bowing their heads and rising their hands in prayer. One of the memb pulls out another still standing in shock above you.

"The day of your arrival has finally come. Forgive us, Master. We didn't recognize you at first in such a weak state. Please spare us of your spite."

Master? That's an odd name. You quite liked the one a kind human gave you once. Y/n rolls off the tongue nicer.

"If you still require sustenance, we will leave you to your feast unless you'd prefer the fresher product of our harvest. If I may offer a suggestion, we can mend your clothes and prepare you a bath to cleanse you of our tainted blood."

Bath. Those were the only highlight of the facility. Why are these people being so nice to you compared to them? It made you feel terrible considering you were the one that broke into their home. Hunger beating the conflicting emotions, you continue to eat the meat until your stomach could carry no more. You probably stopped a few bites before you reached maximum capacity due to all the eyes on you making you a little uncomfortable.

You step out of the cabin, wiping your mouth with the bottom of your shirt to be polite. The cult watches your every move, but not one person makes a peep. Considering you were the center of attention, they must be waiting for you.

"Um... hello."

The members of the cult collectively lose their minds.

"Our messiah! They speak! To lowly beings as us."

"It really is them! I'm sorry for ever doubting your presence, my lord."

"This form suits you best in my expert opinion. Let us gather in celebration for your arrival."

They gather around you, examining your claws and taking measurements of your body to prepare proper clothing for you. The questions and praise your bombarded with make your head spin, but soon enough you're led to a bathing house in another cabin and your stress is washed away by the warm water and those who tend to your mated clothes and hair. Not long into your bath, others come with robes for you to wear. They sob and shrivel beneath your words of thanks, everyone here does.

After dinner where you sit at the head of the table, too full to eat a bite of food, you're allowed to wonder the grounds until your cabin has been fully furnished. You enter the room where the screams originated from hours ago, shocked by what you discover.

A mural of a beast similar to you was painted on the far wall in fine paint and what smelled like blood. Dual irises, onyx fangs, the cross scar in the center of its chest. This creature was you, a bigger, menacing and all powerful you. Below the painting was a dead human spilt open from sternum to belly, the bones broken away and organs scooped clean. Backing away from the scene, you bump into someone.

"We are so glad that you've come to us, Master. Please grant us the lasting benefit of your presence for the rest of our days - and beyond

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

HLC REACT TO MC HAVING AN OUT OF CHARACTER OUTBURST

Requested by: @ma1egamer

MC had a bad week. The worst week. An awful horrible week. But they still smiled. No one could know what was broiling just beneath the surface. They were the cool popular kid at Hogwarts, they had a reputation. If they just kept up appearances until the end of the day, they could go out after classes and fight a few dark wizards. That would help them de-stress.

They were lost in thought when someone accidentally ran into them, knocking their bag off their arm and causing it to spill its contents all over the floor. One of their ink bottles smashed, staining what was a lengthy essay they had just completed the night before for astronomy.

MC lost their carefully collected shit. "WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING!? IF ITS NOT ONE THING, ITS ANOTHER!! EVERY! SINGLE! DAY! But, if we didn't have bad weeks, the good weeks would be so amazing." It was like someone flipped a switch. MC was entirely calm again while using their wand to clean up their stuff.

The hall was dead silent. The whole crowd of students and faculty watched MC pack themselves up and walk away smiling.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: "Welp, I feel sorry for any dark wizards or goblins that cross MC's path today." This included himself. He steered clear.

OMINIS GAUNT: "What happened? Why did they shout like that? Are they okay?" He needs context. He's worried.

ANNE SALLOW: She avoids eye contact with anyone in the crowd. She doesn't know what's going on, don't look at her.

IMELDA REYES: "What, in the actual fuck, was that?"

NATSAI ONAI: She marches after MC. They clearly aren't okay and she wants to know what's up.

GARRETH WEASLEY: MC's outburst made him drop a jar of pickled slugs. Now he was having a bad day too. The smell was awful.

LEANDER PREWETT: "They're cracking under the pressure. Sad."

AMIT THAKKAR: He has shrunk away from the noise. He doesn't deal with that kind of energy very well and removes himself from the situation.

EVERETT CLOPTON: "Merlin's beard, and here I thought Kogawa had a temper."

POPPY SWEETING: "Yeesh, I knew MC had fangs but I've never seen them take it out on a random student. I wonder what's bothering them."

ELEAZAR FIG: "Oh dear." He shuffles through the crowd and shepherds MC away. "What was that about? Are you alright? Please, don't lie to me."

MATILDA WEASLEY: She bristled at MC's volume. She could take house points for that, but instead ask MC to come to her office. She wants a word.

CHIYO KOGAWA: "Move along, everyone. You all have places to be." She shoos the crowd and stops MC from leaving. "Let's talk. My office."

AESOP SHARP: He gets it. As far as anyone is concerned, he saw nothing.

ABRAHAM RONEN: He's immediately by MC's side, helping them with their books. "Can you spare a moment to chat?" He wants them to be actually okay.

MIRABEL GARLICK: She walks quickly to catch up with MC and hands them a colorful bloom. "Here...it's Worry's Blight. It'll help you feel calm. You seem to need some more than me today."

MUDIWA ONAI: She invites MC up for tea. A special blend and good conversation is what they needed.

BAI HOWIN: Everyone has a bad day. There was no confrontation about the items dropped, so she let it go.

DINAH HECAT: "You shouldn't be shouting the halls, MC. However, instead of taking points, I have an assignment for you." She gave them a small price of paper with a location. "This is an ashwinder camp I heard wind of in the Three Broomsticks. It's a big one. Use this information as you may."

CUTHBERT BINNS: He just ghosted on out of there. He had a lecture to prep.

SATYAVATI SHAH: "No shouting in the halls. That's five points, MC." She didn't notice the vein fit to burst on MC's neck when they just smiled back at her.

PHINEAS NIGELLUS BLACK: "Children. Always whining about how hard life is. They know nothing of the real troubles life can throw at you."

[sassenach77yle]

There was a soft whoof! noise, then a louder whoomp! as the ether in the surgery ignited, and suddenly we were standing in a pool of fire. For a fraction of a second, I felt nothing, and then a burst of searing heat. Jamie seized my arm and hurled me toward the door; I staggered out, fell into the blackberry bushes, and rolled through them, thrashing and flailing at my smoking skirts. Panicked and still uncoordinated from the ether, I struggled with the strings of my apron, finally managing to rip loose the strings and wriggle out of it. My linen petticoats were singed, but not charred. I crouched panting in the dead weeds of the dooryard, unable to do anything for the moment but breathe. The smell of smoke was strong and pungent. Mrs. Bug was on the back porch on her knees, jerking off her cap, which was on fire.

Men erupted through the back door, beating at their clothes and hair. Rollo was in the yard, barking hysterically, and on the other side of the house, I could hear the screams of frightened horses. Someone had got Arch Bug out—he was stretched at full length in the dead grass, most of his hair and eyebrows gone, but evidently still alive. My legs were red and blistered, but I wasn’t badly burned—thank God for layers of linen and cotton, which burn slowly, I thought groggily. Had I been wearing something modern like rayon, I should have gone up like a torch. The thought made me look back toward the house. It was full dark by now, and all the windows on the lower floor were alight. Flame danced in the open door. The place looked like an immense jack-o’-lantern. “Ye’re Mistress Fraser, I suppose?” The squat, bearded person bent over me, speaking in a soft Scottish burr. “Yes,” I said, coming gradually to myself. “Who are you, and where’s Jamie?” “Here, Sassenach.” Jamie stumbled out of the dark and sat down heavily beside me. He waved a hand at the Scotsman. “May I present Mr. Alexander Cameron, known more generally as Scotchee?” “Your servant, ma’am,” he said politely. I was feeling gingerly at my hair. Clumps of it had been singed to crispy thread, but at least I still had some. I felt, rather than saw, Jamie look up at the house. I followed the direction of his glance, and saw a dark figure at the window upstairs, framed in the dim glow from the burning downstairs. He shouted something in the incomprehensible tongue, and began throwing things out of the window. “Who’s that?” I asked, feeling more than slightly surreal. “Oh.” Jamie rubbed at his face. “That would be Goose.”

“Of course it would,” I said, nodding. “He’ll be a cooked goose, if he stays in there.” This struck me as wildly hilarious, and I doubled up in laughter. Evidently, it wasn’t quite as witty as I’d thought; no one else seemed to think it funny. Jamie stood up and shouted something at the dark figure, who waved nonchalantly and turned back into the room. “There’s a ladder in the barn,” Jamie said calmly to Scotchee, and they moved off into the darkness. The house burned fairly slowly for a while; there weren’t a lot of easily flammable objects down below, bar the books and papers in Jamie’s study. A tall figure belted out of the back door, shirt pulled up over his nose with one hand, the tail of his shirt held up with the other to form a bag. Ian came to a stop beside me, dropped to his knees, gasping, and let down his shirttail, releasing a pile of small objects. “That’s all I could get, I’m afraid, Auntie.” He coughed a few times, waving his hand in front of his face. “D’ye ken what happened?” “It’s not important,” I said. The heat was becoming more intense, and I struggled to my knees. “Come on; we’ll need to get Arch further away.” The effects of the ether had mostly worn off, but I was still conscious of a strong sense of unreality. I hadn’t anything but cold well water with which to treat burns, but bathed Arch’s neck and hands, which had been badly blistered. Mrs. Bug’s hair had been singed, but she, like me, had been largely protected by her heavy skirts. Neither she nor Arch said a word. Amy McCallum came running up, face pale in the fiery glow; I told her to take the Bugs to Brianna’s cabin—hers now—and for God’s sake, keep the little boys safe away. She nodded and went, she and Mrs. Bug supporting Arch’s tall form between them.

No one made any effort to bring out the bodies of Donner and his companions. I could see when the fire took hold in the stairwell; there was a sudden strong glow in the upstairs windows, and shortly thereafter, I could see flames in the heart of the house. Snow began to fall, in thick, heavy, silent flakes. Within half an hour, the ground, trees, and bushes were dusted with white. The flames glowed red and gold, and the white snow reflected a soft reddish glow; the whole clearing seemed filled with the light of the fire. Somewhere around midnight, the roof fell in, with a crash of glowing timbers and a tremendous shower of sparks that fountained high into the night. The sight was so beautiful that everyone watching went “Oooooh!” in involuntary awe. Jamie’s arm tightened round me. We could not look away.

What’s the date today?” I asked suddenly.

He frowned for a moment, thinking, then said,“December twenty-first.”

“And we aren’t dead, either. Bloody newspapers,” I said. “They never get anything right.”

For some reason, he thought that was very funny indeed, and laughed until he had to sit down on the ground.

123 RETURN OF THE NATIVE~ A Breath of Snow and Ashes

[lnfours]

idk if im late or not for the snow day req 🤧 can i req this with lando? tysm 🧡

all too well - bad breakup, you lost your self-esteem, why not you? "i can still remember it like it was yesterday"

IM BACK! my semester started the other day and i’ve been busy as fuck but don’t worry we’re cleaning out the inbox today!

anon, i hope you enjoy this! i’m so sorry it took so long 🥲 i had to include a fluff ending bc im too much of a hopeless romantic

cleaning out my inbox

the house was empty, quieter than normal as you sat on the couch. the ran pattered against the roof, droplets dripping down the glass that mirrored the tears on your cheeks.

it had been a few months since you broke up. his busy schedule and yours intermingling only causing more harm than good. you felt like you never got to see him, and when he was home you were always busy. obviously you knew what you were getting into with his profession, under the impression that you both could make it work.

but after six months of trial and error, you both decided that despite the overwhelming amount of love you had for each other. there was no one else who could compare to him. there was no better feeling then the love you had for each other.

your friends had all played the classic ‘boys suck’ and ‘find someone knew’ cards when in reality it took all of you not to book the first flight to whichever city he was in that week and get wrapped up in him all over again. to breathe in the smell of his cologne and laundry detergent, the smell that felt like home.

your thoughts were interrupted with a knock on the door. you wiped your tears quickly, glancing down at the time on your phone and wondering who was paying you a visit this late in the evening. especially unannounced.

you unlocked the door and opened it to reveal the man who had infiltrated your thoughts for the past three months. gorgeous green eyes meet yours, brown curls stuck to his forehead because of the rain. backpack resting on his shoulders as a small carry on luggage sat beside him. he wasn’t really sure what urged him to tell the uber driver to drop him off at your doorstep instead of his own place, but he was glad he did the moment your eyes met.

“sorry,” he mumbled softly, awkwardly shifting after taking in the silence between you, “i should’ve texted.”

you shook your head, opening the door for him to seek shelter from the rain, “it’s okay, come in.”

he did as you told him to, leaving his bags and shoes by the door as you made your way into the kitchen. he shrugged off his hood, running a hand through the wet curls as you reached up on your tippy toes for a mug, “want some tea? it’ll warm you up,”

“teas good,” he nodded, sending you a soft smile, “thanks.”

you turned the stove on, fire igniting under the kettle, turning to face him on the opposite side of the island.

“why’re you-?”

“were you-“

you both started at the same time, exchanging a slight chuckle before he shook his head, “you first, your questions probably more important than what i was gonna ask.”

you nodded, licking your lips, “i was just gonna ask why you’re here,” you said, immediately rambling after, “- not that i mind, i did say my door was always open if you needed something but…”

you trailed off and he nodded, swallowing thickly, “i don’t really know, to be honest,” he said, suddenly more interested in his fingers as he broke eye contact, “i’ve been thinking about you and what happened between us over the past few months and i,” he took a deep breath, “i missed you.”

you bit down on your lower lip, “lando-“

“i know, i know,” he said, finally looking up to meet your eyes again, “i should’ve probably texted, and i had this entire speech rehearsed in the car from the airport but when i saw you, it all kind of just went out the window. i can go if you want me to-“

“no,” you cut him off, “no, i don’t want you to go.”

he nodded, “i just felt like telling you i still loved you in person was a better idea rather than telling you over the phone.”

you heart stopped, jumping up to your throat. you didn’t know what to say, you hadn’t really thought about what you’d say if he ever came back. you just assumed he had moved on and forgot everything about you, just like every other man had.

but he wasn’t like those guys. that being the key reason you fell in love with him to begin with.

“and i’m sorry for being so shitty,” he said, “for not being the perfect boyfriend to you. i know it’s a slim chance, but if you’re willing to work it out, so am i. i want everything life has to offer with you.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat, “i’m sorry, too,” you breathed out, “i wasn’t totally understanding about your career and how hectic it was. if im being honest, i never stopped loving you. even when you were gone, i couldn’t keep my mind off of you.”

he approached you now, coming to stand in front of you. you smiled gently up at him as he spoke, “a complete redo, for the both of us, a clean slate - if that’s okay with you?”

you nodded, “very much so, yeah.”

he smiled down at you, his arms winding around your waist as yours wrapped around his neck. he hugged you tightly against his body, the smell of his cologne filling your senses. the smell of him; home.

the tea kettle whistling pulled you apart, you reaching to turn to the stove off as you grabbed the kettle. he watched you with love filled eyes as you made the tea, holding his mug out to him with a smile when you prepared it to his liking.

you remembered.

“so,” you said, smiling over the rim of the mug, “tell me everything i missed.”

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

TW : 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦 ; 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘺 ; �� 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 ; Word Count : 2.1k ✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼✼　 ҉ 　

It had been so long since you had seen snow like this. Snow that covered the sidewalks, blanketed bushes, cars, and trees until the entire world outside the frosted window was painted white. It had been a while since you were snowed in, and sadly, you were snowed in on campus, in the library, which was the last place you wanted to be. 

You were the only person there, but the doors had been left unlocked. Maybe it was a foolish mistake made by someone who had left before the snow had the chance to really start up, rushing to leave and forgetting to lock up. Either way, you were here now, you were the only one there. 

It wouldn’t have been so bad if you had your friends there with you, surely they would have found some way to make the time that you were stuck there more enjoyable. Instead, you were by yourself, the library was dark, and even though you could hear the heat being forced through the vents above your head, your breath was still coming out in puffs of smoke. It was freezing. 

At least you weren’t snowed in with your professor and the rest of your class, surely this couldn’t be worse than that. You did have the entire library to yourself, and while the smell of the aging books alone had you thinking back to the numerous study dates you had with your friends, there was a sense of solitude that came along with the gray lighting that shone in through the windows and the dingy carpets that surely needed to be changed. 

“Phew! Jeez!” The sound of the voice and the whipping wind throwing open the entrance doors had your head whipping up and away from the window to see the heavily bundled figure shadowed by the light behind them. “The weather didn’t even say it would snow today!” 

The voice that called out to someone, something… maybe nothing at all, had been a voice that you couldn’t seem to get out of your head, a voice that now sent butterflies through your stomach. It was crazy to feel such a way, especially since you and Hyunjin were back together, but there was just something about him. “Felix?” You called out, slipping your bag off your shoulder and running over to the door, pushing it shut behind him as he stared at you. “What are you doing here?” 

His head shook, the hoodie that had been secured around his head slipped off and fell against his back. “What am I…- What are you doing here?!” He reversed the question and you rolled your eyes. There really was only one reason why the two of you would be in such a shitty predicament, and that’s because you both had been on your way to class. “How long have you been waiting here?” 

Your shoulders shrugged as you started walking back towards the window, dropping down into the seat and curling up into yourself. “15… Maybe 25 minutes. I’m not sure, I lost track of time.” You mumbled, dragging your finger along the glass pane to doodle into the fog that had settled on it. “I’m hoping it’ll slow down soon so I can walk back home.” 

He sighed, allowing himself to fall into the chair beside yours, his eyes casted out the window as well, and you couldn’t help but admire how gorgeous he looked in the lighting, how gorgeous he looked in general. If Hyunjin ever found out that you thought that way about another guy, about Felix, he’d lose his mind. “Are you cold?” 

Another shrug as a response, you leaned your head against the back of the chair, letting out a yawn. “A little.” You mused, pulling your knees closer to your chest and silently cursing yourself for wearing such a light coat. Then again, no one, not even the weather had predicted the storm. 

Silence followed, then it was filled with the rustling of fabric, and before you could turn to see what he was doing, his coat had been draped over you to cover your legs. “Better?” He asked, and there were many things you could say. You could tell him that it was more than better, that you felt immediately warmer now that you were engulfed in his scent… But you simply nodded, giving him a sheepish smile. What would he even do if you said something like that to him, especially since he’s aware that you and Hyunjin are together again? “Good, good…” He murmured, breathing into his hands and rubbing them together, ultimately making you feel guilty. 

“You’re cold now?” You questioned, although you already knew the answer, and you shifted your body to look in his direction. “You can have your coat back…” But as soon as you started pulling the garment off your lap, he reached out to stop you, offering you a shy smile. 

“You need it more than I do.” He whispered, his bottom lip slipping in between his teeth as he nervously chewed on it. “So… How are uh… How are you and Hyunjin?” The last time the question had come up you had assumed he was trying to help your boyfriend… who had been your ex at the time… But now… Who was he asking for? Himself, or the group of friends that you loved dearly… A group of friends that wanted nothing to do with you at all. 

“We’re doing alright… This is the longest he’s gone without fucking up since the second time he did…” Was that even a defense for him? It sounded so weird, but it was really the only thing you could say for him. That in itself should be disappointing, but you were just used to that being the only thing you could say in his defense. “I saw you had game night with the boys… Are they okay?” 

Just talking about them had you getting choked up. You hadn’t gone this long without a text from at least one of them since before you had met. It felt weird, it felt wrong. “They’re great.” And while you were happy that they were doing great as Felix had said, that’s not what you wanted to hear at all. You sank into the chair, pulling the coat blanket up to your chin. “They do miss you though. I think Jeongin is on the verge of losing his mind, Seungmin hasn’t been Hyunjins roommate since the two of you got together, Jisung is… Strangely he seems the most sane but I feel like I’m wrong about that. Minho is spiraling, which is kind of funny considering he didn’t know you as long as the others. They miss you a lot.” 

You knew the guys very well, and you were sure that what Felix was saying was the complete truth, but it didn’t make any sense at all. “If they miss me so much, then why aren’t they talking to me? They won’t even come see me. I miss them too, ya know?” You were being pouty, but you felt like you had a perfect reason to be right now. “How does Hyunjin feel about you hanging out with them though? I know he doesn’t like them at all… Hell, he wants me to just get rid of them completely.” 

Felix scoffed, running his fingers through his hair as he shook his head, an incredulous smile stretching along his lips. “I haven’t really talked to him.” It was shocking to you, especially considering how close the two of them seemed, and while you didn’t want to poke and prod for more information, it’s not like you could just leave it at that and walk away. The two of you were practically stuck in the library together, at least until the snow died down, and you didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness of sitting in silence. 

“What happened? If you want to talk about it…” You had completely turned your body, leaning against the opposite arm of the chair so you could look at him, your arms now slipped into the sleeves of the coat and sitting snugly in the pockets. You had a boyfriend, but you didn’t find anything wrong with simply admiring the beauty of the man next to you, especially after what your boyfriend had done. 

“Nothing actually happened… I just think he’s an idiot… He’s an asshole. I mean, he literally posted a picture of some girl calling her baby… And then went right back to you.” He looked at you out of the corner of his narrowed eyes. “I know you saw it… That doesn’t bother you?” 

You didn’t want the questioning to be turned back on you, but it didn’t seem like you could back out of it. What were you even supposed to say? You had seen the post, and while you thought that you wouldn’t have much of a reaction to it, seeing him calling another girl baby, knowing that he was with someone other than you, it had been nauseating. His cheating had pissed you off, but seeing another girl, seeing the other girl, it was heartbreaking. “It does…” You mumbled, fumbling with the keys that were in the pocket of his coat. “But only because the girl in the picture wasn’t me…” Your lips pulled into a thin line as you watched the words register in his brain, and while you were used to your friends calling out your foolishness, Felix was silent, just nodding his head as he really processed what you had just said. “You think I’m an idiot, don’t you?” 

He sputtered out a chuckle as he looked back at you, and you were stunned once again by his beauty, his dark brown eyes seemingly staring right through you. “I do, I think you’re absolutely stupid…” Your mouth fell open at the sudden agreement that you didn’t think was coming. “But that’s not really new, is it? I had to save you from tripping because you don’t watch where you’re going, you didn’t check your email to see that classes were canceled today, and you’re giving Hyunjin a tenth chance. Your brain clearly doesn’t work.” 

You continued to stare at him, slack jawed and wide eyed until a teasing smirk lit up his face and you reached over to playfully smack him as you rolled your eyes. “You didn’t check your email either! That’s why we’re here together.” You pointed out and he groaned loudly, looking out the window to see that the snow was now coming down harder instead of stopping like the both of you wanted. “I’ll break the vending machines if I have to. I’m not starving in the library.” 

“Can we at least turn on the lights? It’s so dark in here.” He said, getting up from his chair to start walking around, and like a puppy, you quickly got up to follow after him, swinging the sleeves of his coat in front of you. “You gonna help me search for the lights?” He posed, the corner of his mouth pulling up slightly as he glanced over at you. 

“Nope. I’m just here to keep you company. What? Are you scared of the dark or something?” You teased, but he deadpanned, staring right at you with his eyebrows raised. “Wait… Are you actually scared?” 

He nodded his head as he started walking again, his steps faster as he searched even harder for the lightswitch. “The dark is scary, and libraries are usually super haunted. I refuse to be stuck here in the dark with some spooky librarian ghost.” He sounded so serious, but you snorted loudly, your head falling back as your body shook with laughter. “It’s not funny!” 

“What if the power goes out?” You posed the question jokingly, but he groaned loudly, his eyes squeezing tightly shut as his head shook faster. “Don’t worry, Felix. I’ll fight off the scary librarian. I ain’t afraid of no ghosts.” You perched your clenched fists of your hips as you smiled proudly, and now he was laughing, walking backwards so he could keep his eyes on you. 

“Yeah, sure you will. Thanks Bill Murray.” You clapped your covered hands together as you skipped back to his side, and you weren’t expecting it, but his arm draped over your shoulder as he continued to walk, practically dragging you along. “I see why the guys love you and miss you so much…” He mused, and when you looked at him you thought he’d be smiling his goofy little smile that usually meant he was joking, but his eyes were still straight forward and there wasn’t a hint on his face that he was teasing you. You poked his side to get him to continue, and he simply scoffed, finally looking at you. “You’re fun to be around. I’m glad I got snowed in with you of all people.” 

↻ ◁ ▌▌ ▷ ↺

[sweetichigo-write]

Casse Croute

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

cw: SFW, fluff, angst, major character death

word count: 4,278

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

11:42 pm

That's what the clock read.

I did not notice it was this late. I always never mind the time. Rotting in bed was all I could do. Staring at the ceiling, dozing off, waking up, then stare the ceiling again and the cycle repeats.

I went downstairs to the kitchen to drink. It feels heavy to walk. Before I opened the fridge, I noticed a plastic bag, and inside of it was a paper bowl. When I opened the bag slightly, I saw a soup and a note on the lid. 

Hey (y/n)! I bought the soup from your favorite place hoping you'll eat and feel a bit better. I noticed the sandwich I sent you yesterday for lunch spoiled on the kitchen counter. (y/n), please take care of yourself. He doesn't want to see you like this.

I place the note on the counter and open the lid. The soup is cold. It was likely sent around 6:00 pm for dinner.

I pour the contents in the sink, and throw the paper bowl in the trash can, not bothering to segregate.

Before I left the kitchen, I realized that the sink was clean before I threw away the soup. 

(f/n) washed the piled dishes.

I frantically ran to the laundry room. Panting I switched the lights on and looked for the laundry basket like a wildman until I spotted the untouched dirty clothes. 

I breathed out a sigh of relief to see that (f/n) did not touch the dirty clothes.

I couldn't stop the tears from falling and letting out a sob. I slumped down, leaning at the door frame, crying covering my face.

I looked up and saw a blue button shirt, then grabbed it as if I were a child grabbing a toy.

The shirt is a beautiful wedgewood blue and soft to the touch. No buttons were missing. The fibers of the thread can be seen, holding the button for dear life.

I couldn't stop my hiccups and sobs as I felt the softness of the fabric. I sniffed the shirt and it smelled like him. Not the expensive perfume he used but him. 

His scent reminds me of the time when I greet him home and hug him, when he picks me up from work and bear hugs me, and when we cuddle to sleep and wake up still in his arms.

I carried his shirt as I walked back to our bedroom. The shirt is very light, but why is it so heavy? I plopped on our bed, laying down on his side of the bed, inhaling his scent on his pillow. The pillow slowly losing its scent made me cry and wail.

I miss him so so much.

The house is so empty! So silent! I hate it! It hurts so much. Every corner of the house reminds me of him. 

The lounge chairs where we read books every Sunday afternoon. The kitchen where we cook together and laugh when we failed cooking the food. The bathtub is where we have our spa day. The couch where we sit to watch movies and discuss mundane things. The bed I lay down where we show our love to each other. 

All corners, rooms,  and furniture always remind me of him. It hurts so much that I want to leave, or better yet, burn the place down...but I can't… this is my home, he was my home.

Still hiccupping and sobbing, I opened the drawer of his bedside table and then grabbed his daily planner. I flipped it to a particular date.

November 23

• Buy flowers

• Buy coffee and chocolate croissants at (y/n) favorite cafe

• Meeting with Mr.(r/n)

• Pick up the ring

• Dinner at (r/n) restaurant

The last bullet clenched my heart

• Ask (y/n) to spend our lives together

I kissed the page while tearing up and placed it on my chest.

I glanced at the clock and it read 12:02 am.

Today is November 23rd. My birthday. The day he was supposed to propose to me.

_______

I was jolted awake when someone shook my shoulder. It was (f/n).

"Hey, (y/n) are you okay? I was dropping off your meal and I decided to check up on you. You were whimpering in your sleep."

I stared blankly at (f/n) and then looked away from her.

"Thank you", I said weakly with a hoarse voice

There was a moment of silence before she spoke.

"Okay, I've had it enough, (y/n)! You’re killing yourself! Refusing to eat, not taking care of yourself, and just laying all day, do you think he wanted to see you suffering like this? (y/n), you look so thin! I am worried for you! We are all worried for you!"

"Did you think I wanted this!", I shouted back at her, "I can't eat! Even if I wanted to, I can't. My pain after losing him is greater than my hunger. I'm sorry for neglecting myself all because I drown myself with my sorrows", I broke down.

(f/n) embraced, brushing my hair, "I'm sorry, (y/n). I did not mean to shout at you I'm sorry."

I cried in her arms, clutching her sleeves not wanting her to leave me.

"(f/n), what should I do? This place hurts me. I cannot leave this place" I can't stop the tears from flowing, not minding the mess I made on her clothes.

"Actually...."

_____

I fiddled with the ring on my hand. It was a beautiful gold ring with a diamond at the center. It is simple and beautiful. He really knows my taste.

(f/n) gave me the ring he was supposed to propose to me

"He planned to propose to you on your birthday. He told me his plans and asked for my help to look for a ring. It was funny because the guy knew you like the back of his hand but still asked me for my opinion on what ring to choose, but I declined since I wanted him to choose the ring"

I was snapped out of my memory when someone called me.

"Miss (y/n), you may now enter", the woman gave me her warm smile. I smiled back at her even though it was small.

Inside the room was a white cushioned recliner-like chair. A woman with glasses appeared and greeted me.

"Good morning, miss (y/n)! I am Dr. Ieri, and these are Dr. Kamo and Dr. Inumaki", I bow to them as my greetings, "Please sit down on the chair so that we can begin the procedure."

(f/n) suggested me to come to this place. I did not know such a place existed. Many have visited the place and have a memory wipe out. Not thinking about the consequences, I impulsively accepted her suggestion.

I followed Dr. Ieri's instructions. After I made myself comfortable, Dr. Kamo placed a device on my head and an anesthetic face mask.

"We will use the device on your head to see which memories you want to be wiped. While trying to make you sleep, we will start reviewing your memories, and you might see and remember the memories being wiped out."

I just nodded to him since I was already wearing the anesthetic mask.

As they started to choose what part of my memories to wipe out, all of the times when me and I were together flashed in my eyes

_____

I went to my favorite pastry shop for lunch since I was craving for their casse croute. After  I grabbed the last piece, I saw a man that was about to pick it up. I noticed the dark circles under his eyes. He looked so tired. Feeling bad, I give the sandwich to him.

"Here you go, sir, you can have it", I smile at him but the worry is clear in my expression.

"No, thank you, miss. I'll just grab another sandwich", he politely declined.

"No, I insist", I placed the sandwich in his hand then walked away so that he wouldn't give it back, and then roam around the shop to buy another of my favorites.

I saw the man paying at the counter, talking with the cashier, (c/n), as I waited in line. I realized he is kind of...muscular. He is tall, maybe like 6'3. And he dressed so well. I chuckled to myself. 

"He is so my type", I whispered to myself.

When it was my turn to pay (c/n) looked surprised.

"Oh, (y/n)!  The gentleman a while ago paid for your sandwich as well", she beamed.

My eyes went wide. I was speechless. I did not even notice (c/n) packed my sandwich.

I thanked (c/n) and then went out of the shop in a hurry hoping to see the man again, but he was nowhere to be seen.

_____

It was Saturday night when me and my friends decided to visit a jazz club in the city. When we sat at our booth, I scanned the area, admiring the ambiance.

A particular blonde head caught my attention. I excused myself from my friends, then strutted my way to his booth.

"Casse croute", the man was about to take a sip of his drink when I spoke. He turns his head and his eyes widen.

"Ah, miss...?"

"(y/n). What's your name?" I offered my right hand to shake his hand.

"Nanami Kento", he held my hand, and instead of shaking he kissed it.

"So, what brings you here, mister Nanami?", I sat in the chair next to him, "oh, I hope you don't mind", I sat comfortably and faced him.

"It's fine. I'm just drinking here alone to unwind. What about you? What brings you here?", he shifted on his seat to face me.

"Well me and my girlfriends wanted to unwind too and have fun", I look at our booth motioning where my friends are seated. He looked at where they were seated, and my friends waved at us. As soon as his back was facing them, they raised their thumbs, hyping me up, and I giggled.

"I hope you didn't ditch your friends", he chuckled. 

I laughed, "Of course not! I saw a familiar blonde, and I just to say hi to him".

When I glanced at our table, a waiter was getting the order in our booth. My friends motioned me to come back.

"I have to go back. My friends are calling me. It was lovely chatting with you," before I left, he gently held my hand.

"Wait,"  I focused my attention on him, "I wanted to thank you for giving the casse croute to me. Let me repay you."

Curious, "How, mister Nanami?"

"Let me take you out for dinner, have drinks, and get to know each other", he squeezed my hand gently.

"Mister Nanami, are you asking me out on a date?" I acted fake shock.

"Maybe", he smiled then kissed my hand.

We exchanged contacts before I went back to my booth.

_____

On our date, he took me to a restaurant with a spectacular view of the city, a jazz band was playing making the atmosphere light and smooth.

We ate dinner, drank some cocktails, talked about ourselves, and laughed at some jokes.

By the end of our date, he drove me home.

When we reached my apartment complex he exited his vehicle. As I unbuckled my seatbelt he opened the door for me. He held my hand that was not holding my bag, assisting me as I got out of the car. He closed the door and stared at me.

"Did you have a great time?", he asked.

"Yes. How about you?", I ask curiously.

"Very much," he kissed the back of my hand.

The gesture made me blush.

"I wish to see you again"

"So a second date, Kento?"

"Yes"

_____

Over the past few months, me and Kento had several dates. There were dates on which I was the one who planned, but mostly he was the one who planned our dates.

In one particular meeting we had, he shared that he won't be renewing his lease and plans to move out.

"The house that I bought is not fully furnished. I don't have any idea what appliances and furniture should I pick," he shared with me while holding hands.

"I can help you pick. I am free this Saturday."

"Then this Saturday we'll have a furniture shopping date," he laughed and I laughed as well.

_____

Shopping for his soon-to-be home furniture was fun. I get to know his style and preferences.

Most of the furniture we bought was a fusion of our preferences, but mine obviously dominated his. I wondered why he just let me choose the furniture.

On the day he moved in, I was there to help him.

Dinnertime arrived, and we ordered chicken and pizza. We sat on the floor since the table was not yet assembled.

We talked and laughed as we ate dinner.

"Ah! (y/n), I'll grab something from my room", he stood up.

"I'll go with you," I was about to stand up when he stopped me.

"You don't have to. Just eat your meal. You needed that, you helped me move and organize some of my stuff," he ruffled my hair and walked away.

While he was gone, I admired his place. The house was so big for one person living here.

When he came back, he handed me something, "Here,".

When I looked at it, it was a key.

"Kento, what's this?" I looked at him confused. My heartbeat was so fast that it was ringing in my ears.

"A duplicate of my house key," he paused, " this is me asking you to move in with me. I want to see you all the time. After a rough day at work, I want to feel your presence and bask in your warmth. So, (y/n) will you move in with?"

I did not waste another second to reply, "Yes!", I jumped to hug him, but we ended up lying on the floor due to the force of my embrace. 

We laughed it off. I couldn't help myself to kiss him. He was taken aback but reciprocated my kiss.

_____

After I moved in with him, everything felt like a dream. I get to see more of him. I learned what genre of books he reads, and his favorite meal that I learned to cook (he protested that I don't need to cook for him but I insisted, we argued a bit until we made an agreement that we'll cook our meals together), and his favorite bread from the pastry shop where we first met. When we have disagreements, we would talk it out before sleeping, not allowing us to sleep with a heavy burden in our hearts.

One particular evening, he showed a different side of him.

We were cooking dinner. He was chopping the vegetables as I was stirring the pot when I asked him to pass the salt.

"Love, can you hand me the salt?", I reached my hands at my back waiting for the salt shaker to be placed on my palm.

A minute passed and no salt shaker appeared on my hand.

"Kento? Oh!," I was surprised when his arms encircled around my waist.

His face was buried on my shoulder. I turned around to face him, but he just buried his face on my chest.

"Kento, what's wrong?" I stroked his fluffy blonde hair, and that's when I noticed his red ears.

"Say that again," he murmured.

"Huh?"

"Call me love again"

I smiled and then chuckled. I kissed the top of his head then I said the words he wanted to hear.

"Love"

His embrace tightened.

I laughed and teased him throughout the night.

_____

I was folding his clothes and placing them in his luggage as he answered a call.

There was an urgent out-of-town business meeting. 

"Yes, Mr. (r/n) I'll meet you tomorrow morning. Have a good evening," he ended the call and walked towards the bed where I was packing his clothes.

He slumped on me, burying his face on my shoulder. I scratch the back of his head.

" I'm sorry I will be leaving you tomorrow. I will try to get back as soon as the meeting ends," he said sounding like a sad puppy.

"It's okay, love. You don't have to rush. I want you to be back safe and sound," I kissed his temple and caressed his cheek.

_____

When I woke up he wasn't on his side of the bed.

After eating breakfast and taking a shower I received a text from him

From: Love

I just arrived. Hope you ate breakfast already.

I texted back saying that I just ate and telling him to eat as well because he did not have time to eat earlier.

_____

October 31st

The wind was howling and the rain fell heavily outside. 

Today was the day he was supposed to come back, but given the weather, I think he will reschedule his flight.

As I was doing my skincare he called me.

"Good evening, darling! How are you?", he sounded tired but he tried to sound cheerful.

"I'm fine. How about you love?" I put our call on speaker while I continue my nightly routine of skincare.

There was a long pause before I heard him sigh before he spoke.

"I miss you so much. I'll try to go home tonight. I asked them to prepare my plane."

That alerted me.

"Wait. Hold on. Kento, don't you dare fly back home tonight. Don't you see the weather outside? There's a freaking storm," I said in a strict firm tone.

"I know but I just miss you so much. I want to see you now"

"Kento- love, why don't you wait-," our call was cut off when the power went out. There was no signal.

Damn

I slept that night thinking that he rescheduled his flight.

_____

I was woken up by my phone ringing.

'Who calls this early in the morning?' I think to myself.

I answered the call, not checking who called.

"This is *** speaking, who is this?" I asked groggily.

"Ma'am, this the (random hospital name) we would like you to come to identify the body of Mr. Nanami Kento."

_____

I immediately rushed to the hospital, not bothering to change my pajamas just grabbing my purse and phone and then hailing a cab.

I was in no condition to drive.

‘This can't be true. This is not Kento. He's at (town name). He rescheduled his flight. He'll be back this afternoon.’

I started to hyperventilate, not caring about the cab driver giving me worried looks.

When I arrived at the hospital, I asked the nurse where I could find Kento. She looked at me, and for a second I saw her worried expression then it changed into a stoic look.

She led the way where I could him. Hoping she'd lead me to a hospital room, but when I saw her turn to a corridor that had a sign 'morgue' the blood drained from my face.

When we arrived, the mortician looked at me worriedly, but he still unzipped the bag.

There I saw, the love of my life, lying lifeless.

I broke down, choking a sob. I went near his lifeless body.

'This is not him!’ Deluding myself, but when I saw the moles and marks on his body, it was definitely him.

I wailed loudly, not minding the nurse and mortician watching me as I crumbled.

I caressed his face hoping that he would open his eyes, that this was some kind of joke, but I knew that this was real.

_____

The funeral process went by like a blur. Family and friends saying their condolences.

I stared at his casket. He was wearing an expensive white polo shirt. He looked so peaceful, it was just as if he was sleeping.

After he was buried, my friends asked me if I wanted some company, but I politely declined.

After they left, I closed the door. For the first, the house was so silent. It was deafening.

I then slumped down on the door, crying for the nth time today.

_____

I gained a bit of consciousness. Realizing my mistake I don't want to erase my memories with him. Even if it hurts I'll hold on to those memories.

I tried to lift my arms to get the doctor's attention, but I couldn't move them. I tried to make a sound, but nothing came out of my throat.

'Please! Stop the procedure! I changed my mind! Dr. Ieri! Dr. Kamo! Dr. Inumaki!'

I silently prayed that they would hear my pleas. But as if the heavens loathed me, I heard a robotic voice 'Memory wiped out complete!'  before I lost consciousness.

_____

I was typing on my computer to finish my work when I checked the time.

11:42 am

It's nearly lunchtime. I stood up from my desk and grabbed an envelope.

Inside was my letter. The contents were just about a leave note. I already sent a soft copy to my manager, but to be sure I'll swing by her office.

I knocked on Mr.(r/n) and then entered when I heard a faint 'come in'.

"What brings you here, Miss (y/n)?"

"I'm here for my leave. I sent you an email," I handed him an envelope, "Here is another copy of my leave."

"Ah! I have already approved your leave. Thanks for letting us know in advance."

_____

I went to the washroom first before I went back to my office. I checked my appearance first when my earrings caught my attention.

It was the ring I wore when I woke up in the hospital.

I just randomly woke up and doctors informed me of the procedure I had just undergone. According to them, I wiped out some of my memories. I thought it was bullshit. But every time I glanced at the ring, now earrings, it made me slowly believe that a part of my memory was gone.

I asked a fine goldsmith friend of mine to turn the ring into earrings. It was hard to cook, do house chores, and work wearing the ring. 

I initially wanted to pawn the ring, but something stopped me from doing so. Just the thought of pawning the ring made me clench my heart.

When I was on my way to my office, I bumped into (f/n).

"Hey, (y/n)! You'll be leaving early right?"

"Yeah, I have to pack the last of my things. I'll be moving out tomorrow."

After I got discharged from the hospital, (f/n) drove me home. I was expecting to be in my apartment complex, but to my surprise, we arrived at a large house— more like a mansion.

Staying there was hard. The place was way too big for a single person to live. When I want to eat for my late-night cravings, I have to sleep the hunger away because the kitchen is very far away. The cleaning was especially hard.

When I put the house on sale, a family contacted me they were interested in buying the house. They were happy because it was the home of their dreams, and it made them more happy to know it was fully furnished.

_____

The moving truck was loading the last of my things. With my luggage in my hand, I glanced at the place. It looked empty despite the furniture still being there. A wave of sadness rushed at me. The place was compelling me to stay, but I stood my ground wanting to leave.

My attention was diverted when I heard an engine coming inside the estate. 

It was the family moving in. 

There were moving trucks as well

When they got out of the car I saw the wife, with the same hair color as me. We kind of look alike. We have the same body shape and height.

Together with her is her husband. He was a tall blonde man. Probably 6'3 in height. In his arms were two beautiful children giggling.

"Hello, Miss (y/n)!" The woman greeted excitedly.

I smiled and then exchanged pleasantries with her.

"You can't imagine how happy I was when I saw this place in the market. My husband and my children couldn't sleep a wink last night. They were too excited to move in!"

"Well, I'm glad that you and your family were looking forward to moving in," I reached for my pocket to hand her the keys, "These are the keys, the keys for the different rooms are here as well- Oh! There's also a duplicate house key too", she looks so happy after receiving the keys.

"Thank you, Miss (y/n)!"

I paused for a while before I said something to her.

"I hope you will be making happy memories with your family in your new home", I patted her shoulder and then walked towards my car.

After I placed my luggage in the trunk and closed it, I looked at the family entering their home. Something flashed in my eyes. It was me and a man entering the place.

I shook my head as it was nonsense.

As I drove off towards my new home, I glanced at the car mirroreflecting the gate of the house slowly getting smaller and smaller.

Fin

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I was inspired by @enhaskzzz Enhypen swipe game breakup edition. The song playing in the swipe game was Ariana Grande's "we can't be friends". You can find the vid at TikTok 🍓🎀.

[laceyjane44]

GaaSaku 2023 FanFest Day2

Prompt: First Time/First Kiss

(AU)

He’d been hoping for the break in weather to last just a little longer, but the six-day streak they were on came to an abrupt end when Gaara stepped out of his house and observed the darkening skies overhead. He grabbed his rain gear before leaving, it hadn’t begun to sprinkle yet, but when it did, he wouldn’t have much time before the skies opened up. Quick steps would close the gap between his residential block and the east end of campus in no time, he knew all the short cuts and which backyards to cut through when he was running late, and he double-checked the contents of his bag as he went.

Late or not, Gaara didn’t want to be caught in the rain, he hated the rain.

When he first moved up here for school, he thought he would like experiencing different weather more often. Where he was from, rain was a rarity and the clouds were merely for decoration. They passed by without ever spilling a drop, but now that he couldn’t seem to go a week without this bleak atmosphere and droning drizzles, he missed those parched skies desperately. The American southwest had been his whole world until he flipped it all on its head to move to northeast Oregon and pursue his talents in art. Rocky soil and arid plants had been his home, clear skies with stars for miles, the smell of heat in the air, that was what he yearned for again.

First period was Life Drawing, a coveted class that he’d finally been able to convince his advisor to help him get into. He’d been trying since freshman year but it maxed out quicker than anything else in his major, and now that he had gotten one of those seats, he couldn’t afford to miss any of it. Quite literally; he’d taken loans and received grants to afford moving up here for art school.

Arriving before the start of class, and just before the start of the downpour, he set up his station at his usual spot; at the back by the door, first easel by the center aisle. It provided the best view of the subject with the isle next to him no matter where his classmates set up, and he preferred being in the back anyway. He took his sketchbook out and warmed up his hand while the class filled in. Soon, when the model arrived, the professor gave their instructions, and class went underway.

For the first half hour, the classroom was silent save for the charcoal scratches on paper and the rain drizzling on the roof. The monotonous pattering always made him feel so sluggish and he didn’t appreciate how tired he became during his first class of the day. One of these days, Gaara had thought since beginning this class, he was going to pass out right there at his easel.

It may have even been today, but the doorknob to the art room clicking and the old hinges creaking open caught his attention.

“Sorry, sorry,” came an embarrassed whisper as someone slipped into class. “I had a hard time finding- Oh!”

He, and everyone else in the class, all jumped a little and looked over to see who had just walked in to class late and gasped like that.

She had her pastel pink hair done up in a messy bun with bedhead fraying out at the sides. A grey campus sweater was damp across the top, she clutched a textbook to her chest, and had a fully stuffed backpack pulling at one shoulder. She’d been wearing sweatpants and slides, and she’d clearly caught herself in the chilly morning rain. Coming in the door right next to him, just a few feet away, he could see a distinctive blush cover her face as her eyes widened at the sight of their nude model. He watched them move up and down, mouth agape, only to tear away a moment later as she ducked her head and brought her hands up to her face.

“Oh god!” she gasped again, her voice shaking with embarrassment. “I’m sorry! I – I must be in the wrong place.” As she whipped around, shielding her eyes from the naked man stood dumbfounded on the center riser, her backpack slid off her shoulder, pulled at her arm, and tossed her book to the floor. It also ran straight into his easel and nearly knocked it over.

“Watch it!” he spat, an impulse reaction as he steadied his easel and dodged a textbook to the foot.

She flushed even deeper and dove after her book, he could read Anatomy on the spine before she snatched it off the floor. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized as she stood and backed up from him. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to get to-” she broke away from his disgruntled stare and saw the rest of the room watching her, effectively silencing her with social mortification.

The professor stepped forward then, standing between her and their volunteer model for the period, and pointed to the door she’d left open. “Miss, if you’re not part of this class, please leave,” she said firmly.

“Of course,” the student agreed, repositioning her backpack and fidgeting with the book in her arms. “I am so sorry.” She glanced back at Gaara with an apologetic half smile and fumbled with the loose doorknob of the classroom.

Her footsteps could be heard receding down the hallway and when Gaara looked back to the professor she made a gesture to the door, to which he responded by latching it shut and locking it.

That was the first time he saw her.  

After that he had spent the next few weeks working on a couple pieces and he’d had to spend extra time on campus in the studio. Thankfully the cafés were usually stocked well enough with quick meals and coffee round the clock, they’d been his lifeline this week while he put in the extra hours. He’d been sleeping like shit and he assumed trying to work on his projects at his place would only tempt him to procrastinate for the sake of sleep.

It was on his way back toward the door during one of these visits that he noticed a familiar messy bundle of hair bent over the table at a corner booth. There were papers strewn about beneath her diligent hands scribbling away, and two textbooks lay open for her reference. She sat alone, with a few crumpled wrappers and an empty bottle at the edge of the table, he could see the cord of a singular headphone dangling from her ear.

He hadn’t thought about running into her again, but with his dinner in one hand and his drink in the other, he found himself walking toward that booth she sat in. Gaara hadn’t made a habit of being outwardly social, especially if he didn’t share a class with someone, and she clearly hadn’t even been part of his major given the textbook she’s nearly thrown at him. Though, it was a good thing, he figured; she was avoidable enough if things bombed, but he hoped she wouldn’t mind a last-minute addition to her study table, there were plenty of open seats as it were.

She hadn’t noticed his approach but when he slid into the booth opposite her and placed down his coffee, she stopped her writing and peered across the table. She seemed confused upon first glance, but when she lifted her head and straightened her back, the recognition to cross her face was complimented by his own greeting.

“Well,” he said with a smirk. “If it isn’t Miss I’m so sorry.”

He could see her shoulders drop with her steady exhale as her ears turned pink. She pulled the headphone out of her ear and put her pencil down. “Lovely,” she mumbled with a glance to the side. “Can I help you?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest and mirroring his slouched pose. “I’m trying to study.”

“I just had a question,” he stated, keeping his voice smooth, appreciating the opportunity to take in the color of her eyes. She raised an eyebrow as he took a casual sip of his coffee. “How does someone show up to the wrong classroom nearly four weeks into the semester?”

She furrowed her brows in response and answered his question with her own. “What’s it matter to you?”

“You’re medical?” he guessed, gesturing to the array of papers she was working on. “How’d you end up at Life Drawing in the art building?”

She scoffed and straightened her papers, now embarrassed of her messy spread. “They’re on the same side of campus,” she said in her defense. “I went to the wrong building and asked an art student where Anatomy was.”

He stifled his laugh but he couldn’t hold back his grin. She looked away. “They did you dirty,” he jested. “But you should have known your way to class by then.”

Again, she glanced at him before speaking her explanation to the empty seat next to her, avoiding his eyes. “I hadn’t been on campus yet this year,” she huffed with a bit of attitude coming through in her voice. “I had to take most of my classes online while I was back home with my dad taking care of my mom, so I’m trying to catch up.”

Hesitating with the snarky response after that, he instead asked, “This your first year on campus?”

She shook her head. “Second, I’ve been…online a lot. You?”

“Third,” he answered as he opened the wrapper to his food and settled in across from that tempered look she gave him, though she never told him to leave.

That had been the first time he sat with her in the café.

He had a newfound appreciation for his time spent in the art studio, as over the following weeks it offered him plenty more opportunity to crash her solo evening study sessions in his new favorite booth. It took a couple times of him calling her Sorry for her to give up her name more or less unprovoked, and he’d given over his even though she hadn’t asked for it. Sakura – he wouldn’t be forgetting that – always sported the same messy updo and comfortable athleticwear, a classic look of socks with slides that he didn’t care for until she had worn it so well, and it was only twice that he’d seen her studying without that singular headphone in. Her note taking started to slow when he came around recently, she looked up from her books more, and even allowed his company long enough to take his book out and sketch in between projects. The winter was also beginning to settle in, and the icy rains and biting wind gave him plenty of excuses to stay longer when he came by, even when he didn’t need to put in the studio time, and he used them.

One evening, Gaara had gotten there before her and sat at the back of the booth, welcoming Sakura to the seat next to him upon her arrival. After an hour and half of scribbling and silence nearly the whole time, Gaara felt confident enough in the skills he’d honed thus far in his curriculum to reach across the table and put the open page of his sketchbook in front of her. He’d spent that evening sketching the way she looked as she studied; hunched over the table with her pencil straight up, her face inches from her paper, concentrating and focused beyond distraction. He’d grown to love that meticulous and analytical look in her eyes, and he wanted to show her the best that he could do.

Sakura had glanced over only to doubletake, her pencil dropping as she slid the book in front of her. She looked up at him, those round eyes reflecting the dim lights of the campus café, her lips slightly parted, and he wished he’d had the perspective to sketch those features as well.

“Is this me?” she had asked, earning an uneven grin from him that, like many of his others had before, made her cheeks tinge just a little.

“Who else would it be?” he replied as he leaned back in the booth, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his feet stretched out in front of him. He didn’t bother moving his foot when his boot knocked against hers and rested there under the table, and neither did she.

She responded by simply admiring herself on the page a little more, a free hand now playing with a lock of hair that had fallen loose from her bun.

He could have sworn his heart was going to beat out of his chest, but he took a steady breath while she admired his work. “I have a project at home I have to work on,” he said, gauging how her soft smile fell a little bit as she looked at his sketch, showing just a smidge of disappointment in the casual way he’d brought up his departure.

“All right,” Sakura said, her tone light as she folded closed his book and slid it back to him.

Without reaching for his sketchbook, he continued, “My roommate’s girlfriend is gonna come by later, said she’d pick up takeout on her way.” Gaara knocked his boot against hers more deliberately this time and Sakura glanced up to him, visibly swallowing. He willed himself to keep his cool and, trying his hand at the bold approach – as it had been working in his favor so far, he made a show of admiring the blush settling across her cheeks and tinting her ears red. “She’ll pick something up for you,” he said, her eyes going a bit wide when he asked, “Why don’t you come over?”

She hadn’t answered right away, and had only begun stammering an o-okay when she looked down to start straightening her papers.

Gaara couldn’t hope to understand which papers went with which, but he scooped them up all the same and shut them inside her textbooks, grabbed them with his sketchbook and tossed them all in his bag to carry for her. Still trying to play it cool even in his haste, the anxious excitement hadn’t fully set in until he heard the zipper of her parka slide shut and saw its fuzzy-lined hood come up to frame her rosy face.

That was the first time he’d asked her over to his place, and he’d been building up the courage to do so for weeks.

When they left the café together and were met with the wet sleet falling quietly in the streetlights, his heart nearly flipped in his chest when she remarked that her dorm was so close to the café, she hardly ever brought an umbrella and worried about her backpack getting wet in the rain. Knowing he’d see her today; he was fully prepared for this miserable weather and even welcomed it. Slipping his umbrella out from the side sleeve of his bag, he opened it over them. It was a large umbrella given that he often had to carry his portfolio to and from campus, but he welcomed how she still drew closer to him to fit under it, and how she bumped into him a few times as he showed her the way to his house.

He’d let his roommate know that he was bringing someone over later but hadn’t gone into details, he didn’t know if she would actually accept his offer, and he slipped him a twenty for an extra entre order that evening. But she had accepted, and he hoped the heads-up text he’d sent him when they were walking over would be enough for him to make a good impression. When they arrived at his house though, he should have known he’d have nothing to worry about; his roommate had a dog, a puppy no less, so he was huge hit with Sakura for a little longer than Gaara would have liked.

But, to his credit, during that time he read the room and figured out what Sakura wanted from their takeout restaurant, passed the order along to his girlfriend, and took the dog out for a bathroom break after the excitement of meeting a new person. She turned so coy when the door shut and they stood alone in the living room, perhaps she could feel the energy burning off him, or maybe she was just nervous in new places.

Lifting a hand, he tapped the back of his fingers against the arm of her jacket and she gripped her backpack straps just a little tighter, the cold air they had walked through was her only excuse for the color on her face. “Come here,” he said, motioning through the living room as he led her to the back hallway. “You can put your stuff in my room, all my supplies are in there.”

She chewed her lip and nodded, her eyes wandering and taking in everything on display in his rental as she followed him. He opened his door for her, took her backpack and jacket, and set them on his bed. His door had always swung shut a little on its own, but it wouldn’t close, and he let it be.

Not wanting to look anxious, he gave her his sketch board to lay her notes flat on and brought out his current piece to showcase his progress. Perhaps not the best idea, since the thoughtful way she looked over his work had him nearly sweating bullets, but he breathed a quiet sigh of relief when she said she liked it and continued to study it for a moment.

Goaded on by his small success, he stepped next to her, as if to observe his piece from her own perspective, and he could practically feel the way she tensed as he got closer. He bent down slightly, his face level with hers, and asked as he glanced over, “I think I did pretty good this time, what do you think?” His voice had dropped and turned raspy upon seeing her here in his house, in his room; he thought he’d been fantasizing to pursue this outcome.

Sakura had apparently felt the same.

Free from her backpack and puffy jacket, and compelled by weeks of indecisive desire, she had reached for him without warning and pulled him close. She pressed her lips against his and fisted her hands in the collar of his shirt, desperate to hold onto him, and she was shaking because of it.

That had been the first time he kissed her; an unexpected and treasured payoff to the time he’d invested withstanding her skeptical and arduous vetting, all the while casually sowing the seeds that had led to this moment. Sakura was gasping when she pulled away at first, he’d almost been able to tell her to calm down, but then she pulled him back again and he grinned against her lips.

She had melted, welcoming any touch that he gave her, and allowed herself to be pressed against him. Bemused, Gaara thought over how he might turn this first visit into the first night she would spend at his place, as she appeared eager enough to be convinced.

Thanks for reading!

LaceyJane44 Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaceyJane

[cyb3rscoups]

The Glory AU (pt 2)

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, blood, gore, fight clubs, burn wounds and scars

Our fated lovers finally meet 🤧 Full collection

If you want to be added to the taglist please lmk

She hated going to school that year. From the day she transferred into the private institution, she knew it would be something ingrained in her memories forever.

From the start it seemed like her fate was inevitable. Her first day was when Valentina had chosen her.

Okoye had sat in the only seat left in the classroom, blissful and unknowing as the other students would turn to their friends and whisper about her; where she came from and why she was there.

The first day, she found out she had chosen her previous victim's seat. The same girl that drowned herself the night before.

From the first day, Okoye had no choice and everyday would be a cycle of agony.

“Ko-Ko!” Valentina’s shrill tone would call to Okoye from across the empty gymnasium as soon as the doors creaked open and she walked through. “I missed you girl!”

Okoye would curse in her head as she dragged her feet across the polished floor to where the trio stood. Valentina would always look her over in disgust before giving W'Kabi permission to do what he pleased.

“Oh come on, Okoye. Why the long face?” He would tease as he reached forward to grab her jacket and yanked her flush against him.

She would yelp and squeeze her eyes shut when he dipped his head to kiss her.

“You are disgusting.” Valentina would scoff at his vile attempts as she twirled a strand of fiery red hair around her finger, watching as Erik bounced and threw a basketball he had found. The dull and incessant thudding always irritating her quickly.

“Erik! Quit throwing that ball before I bash it through your skull!”

He caught the basketball as it bounced off the concrete wall and held it to his hip.

“Fuck you, white girl.” He rolled his eyes.

Erik always loved to hate Valentina. It was baffling to Okoye. How someone like Erik could put up with the girl, let alone allow himself to love her as deeply as he did. Nobody knew that back then, nobody but him.

Dogs both the boys were. Her dogs. She had trained the mutts and she controlled them well. They managed to drop everything to be at her beck and call. Carrying out all her dirty work so she wouldn't be tied to anything that happened back then. To hell for how they would end up.

“Ko-Ko! I need your help with something today.” She skipped over to her book bag. “I bought a new flat iron last night but I really need to make sure it works good.”

Out of her peripheral, she could see Erik roll his eyes. “Good luck getting it through.” He snickered, side eyeing the puff of curls atop Okoye’s head.

Right. The boys hadn’t been present to witness how Valentina got her last time. They'd actually gone to class for once and no one was able to smell her burning skin or hear her shrieks of pain.

So no. A failed press out was hardly what she intended to do with the new tool and Okoye knew it. As soon as the iron was plugged in and set to the highest heat, she could feel her heart plunge.

“No..Please! Not again!” Okoye broke W’Kabi’s lethal hold and dropped to her knees

“Oh come on!” Valentina stooped down, a lively glimmer dancing in her eyes. “Don’t be a bitch about it!”

“Please..Valentina. I swear I’ll do anything!”

The teen just stared at her, watching her break down and cry. Tears streaming down her cheeks as she mumbled incoherently. Valentina could feel a tingle in her finger tips as a crude smile found its way on her lips.

“You know what you can do for me, Okoye?” She reached for the girl, wiping her tears on the back of her hand before gripping her chin up and digging her stiletto nails into Okoye’s cheeks. “Kill yourself.”

A chill covered the room. Erik and W’Kabi felt it too. The basketball fell from Erik’s hold as he took a step towards the pair, his shoes squeaking against the hardwood.

“Val…it’s not that deep. Calm-“

“Don’t tell me what to do!” She shrieked.

Valentina released Okoye’s face, opting to yank off her cardigan instead. The material piled to the floor as she marched to the iron and yanked it from its plug. “Neither one of you are shit! She's nothing and neither was Aneka, god rest her pathetic soul!"

Erik hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from Okoye and her exposed arms, her previous burns still fresh and blistering.

“Don't get soft on me now Erik. Hold her down!”

———

After getting out of the hospital, Attuma was back in the gym making up for the days he’d missed while stuck to a hospital bed thanks to Namora.

“Take it easy.” She had said and let him go with an unauthorized prescription for his migraines.

Well, he wouldn’t be doing that for sure. He was in the underground fight club a week later, taking a shot of tequila with a wince as people crowded around the going fight inside the cage behind him. Curses and dollar bills were thrown at the amateurs as they barely stood to each other in the bloody match. He couldn't wait to get back in the mix.

“Warrior! You are fighting tonight!” A hand was smacked across his back followed by a hearty chuckle.

“M’Baku! Of course I am!” Attuma delivered an equally harsh punch to the man's bicep.

“Good. I want a rematch.” The burly 6'7" human shook the bar ledge as he slammed his fist against it in a fit of excitement.

“Nah. Not you.” Attuma scoffed. “You won fair and square. Accept it.”

“Fuck no! You passed out so it doesn't count. If I'm winning, it's because I knocked you out my self." M'Baku gave him a shove that would've sent the average man to his ass but Attuma, given his matching build to M'baku, stood firm and shook his head.

"Fine. You'll get your rematch tonight. 30 minutes. Get us on the list." Attuma watched the bartender as he replaced his shot glass.

"10 minutes and we already are!" M'Baku laughed as he left his comrade to down his drink at the bar.

It took a total of 30 seconds for word to spread through the club that Attuma was back in the cage. It took another minute for the pair to be moved up thanks to the flood of bets towards the fight.

In no time, the cage was crowded with spectators around as M'Baku and Attuma entered its bloody space with the top half of their bodies bare, bruises from their last fight still purple and blue.

"Alright, alright, alright." The announcer started as they strapped their gloves and adjusted their mouthpieces.

"We got the notorious M'Baku and the indestructible Attuma going head to head once again! The betting window closes in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1! Gentlemen! Touch gloves and say a prayer!"

Attuma scoffed as M'Baku forced his gloves against his. "Don't hit me in the fucking face. I'll kill you."

"Okay pretty boy. Want me to call your mommy and tell her you love her too?" M'Baku laughed as the deafening bell rang through the club and their first round commenced.

Just like that, the crowd was in uproar and Okoye could barely muddle her way to the bar without colliding with men twice her size, yelling obscene profanities at each other.

Once she managed to get to the bar, she yelled her order to the bartender and settled. From where she was, she could clearly see the fight. Two substantial men connecting every punch and hit that was thrown til they were both a bloody mess. Yet neither of them seemed to grow weak.

The bell rung out a minute later and the two men parted with a shove. Attuma chuckled before gathering the blood in his mouth and spitting it into a bucket.

"The fuck did I say about my face?!" He growled out as a cut to his eyebrow began to split.

"Calm down, pretty boy. You ain't getting any uglier." M'baku stuck his tongue out in a childish sneer. Okoye let her self smile at the interaction as she went to sip her drink.

"Tired yet?" Attuma provoked with bloodstained smile as he fixed the bun on the back of his neck.

"Yeah you fucking wish." M'baku scoffed as the bell rang again. As if a switch had flipped, the two were done with friendly banter and back at each others throats.

Quite literally at that. M'baku managed to move faster than Attuma and get behind him, locking his thick arm around the other mans neck. Attuma yelled spit fire at his friend as the other laughed in amusement.

"Let go you asshole!"

"Tap out, pussy!" M'Baku tightened his grip and kicked his foot to the back of Attuma's legs, sending him to his knees as he gasped. "Tap out!"

"Fuck you!"

Okoye was entranced. Maybe because she didn't see cage matches often. Maybe because she found herself craving Attuma's victory. Maybe because if he won, that meant she could too.

The anxiety caused her arms to itch and she scratched at them mindlessly. Attuma's eyes started to water as his air flow was constricted to the arm around his neck. Through his tears, he spotted Okoye, her eyes focused on his withering physique, her eyes darting as her body shifted in the small bar stool.

Their eyes locked into each other and he swore he could see her mouth form around the words. "Get up."

"Shit.." He gasped as the strength in his body returned and he jabbed his arm to M'Baku's side, the hold on his neck loosening with every hit he sent to the other.

Once he was free, he punched his way to the finish line and M'Baku surrendered with a roll of his eyes and a roar from the crowd.

Attuma suddenly had no interest in the money he would win or the popularity it would gain him. He just needed to see this woman up close. She stayed put in her spot, finally being able to tend to her alcoholic desires now that the apprehensive match was over and the energy in the club had died down.

He kept his eyes trained on her figure as he weeded through the crowd, patting his back and shouting their congratulations. He saw her ready to depart and get up from the bar, setting down a 20 and shrugging her jacket on.

Attuma's strides got longer as he tried to catch her before she disperse and he lost her in the chaos. "Oh shit! Wait a minute!" He pushed past the last person in his way, grabbing her arm roughly so she wouldn't slip from him too soon.

"Ow! What the hell?!" She pulled at her limb until he released it with apologetic eyes contrasting her deep frown.

"I'm sorry! I really didn't mean to grab you so hard. I just saw you from the cage and-"

"You fight good. Congrats." Okoye rubbed her arm soothing the ache Attuma had unintentionally caused. Her compliment sent a boyish blush across his cheeks.

"Thanks. I'm Attuma."

"Cool." Okoye gave him a tight lipped smile before she attempted to walk away again. His hand, with a much softer force, was on her shoulder before she could turn.

"Well I mean- I- Will you tell me your name? I mean, that is how you get to know someone isn't it?" Attuma stuttered as he snatched his hand back before she could scowl at him again.

"Maybe you should worry more about not getting choked out within an inch of your life during a fight. Then you can know my name." Okoye smirked.

"Damn you're harsh." He sighed, only finding the fact that more enticing.

"I practice."

Okoye turned away again, maneuvering herself away from the bar.

"I'll see you around?" Attuma yelled after her.

"No thank you!"

@xblackreader @loeysaeri @hottie-hotch @faatxma

[gruesomejack]

In Nobody's Eyes But Mine

The air was warm today. On top of the smell of damp grass and dirt, it was a perfect sort of day. Rabbit leaned against the fence surrounding the field and watched some of his classmates and upperclassmen practice for the game on Friday. There were other people around him-- He wouldn't be there if they weren't. There was no way on earth he'd get caught doing this by himself; he already had his locked tagged enough this year already. Queer, faggot, fairy-- The poor janitor was starting to get really tired of having to scrub it all off. The thing was, none of it was wrong. Wrong to say? Sure. But factually? It lined up. Rabbit spent his time reading books, sitting outside, and daydreaming of a kiss from Andy Campbell.

Fingers clinging to the chain link, he watched Andy take his spot at the pitcher's mound. He was well built, and his freckled cheeks were burned pink from the sun. Rabbit could see his blonde hair peeking out from underneath his cap, and it made his heart flutter.

"Andy!" The name was followed by a whistle, and suddenly Rabbit remembered he wasn't the only admirer here. The girls next to him bounced on their toes and waved, calling out again until the boy turned to look.

Green eyes peeked from under the brim of his hat, and a small smile pulled on his face. Andy waved at the girls until his attention his gaze slipped. Eyes on Rabbit, his cheeks pulled further into a grin, his wave a little more purposeful before he finally turned back to practice. Rabbit could've died right there and had no complaints at all. Pressing his lips together, he smiled to himself. Andy sure was something.

"Des!" The girls were jumping again, only this time calling out for his brother at bat. Fuck. Time to go. Rabbit grabbed his bag from the ground and started towards the exit. Andy glanced back one more time and frowned.

At home, Rabbit had a book in his lap and a coke in his hand. He was sitting on the couch, ignoring the way Bobby and his mother were arguing in the kitchen. They were always arguing. Taking a sip from the bottle, he turned the page and winced at the sharp sound of skin against skin; someone had gotten hit. A beat later, the baby was crying, and Bobby was storming from the kitchen and out the front door. Rabbit didn't see it well, but he would've sworn there was a red mark on his cheek.

"Mom!" The door opened again and in walked his least favorite person. Rabbit stiffened and avoided eye contact, staring at his book. "Mom! Where the hell is Bobby going?" Desmond didn't spare him a glance as he stomped through the front room and to the kitchen. Very nearly letting out a breath, he blinked as another body slipped inside behind him. Andy Campbell.

Blue eyes met green, and Rabbit's face immediately warmed. Andy smiled. He was still in his baseball uniform, which hugged his body in all the right places. Rabbit's gaze walked over him before he could stop himself, but the other boy either didn't care or didn't notice. Moving to plop himself next to him on the couch, Andy propped his arm on the back and snatched the soda from Rabbit's hand. He downed what was left until the very last drop, his pink lips caressing the mouth of the bottle in a way that made Rabbit want to lock himself in his room for a half hour. But he didn't; he sat and watched until Andy finished and used the empty bottle to give him a gentle tap on the head.

"Thanks, Jonny." He said with a grin before burping a little from the carbonation. "Whatcha reading today? Lord of the Rings again?" Andy leaned over to peek, his eyes squinting at the page. He smelled like sweat, and it shouldn't have been attractive, but Rabbit was shifting in his seat. Andy's skin was shiny from it, and a little oily-- It made him want to lean over and nose at his neck. Kiss it until it was purple, and the taste of salt was burned into his tongue.

"Jon?"

Oh shit. "U-Uh! It's a foraging guide!" He babbled and offered the book to him, which Andy took. "Oh, cool!" The other boy looked genuinely interested, flipping through a few pages and eyeing over the different plants. "So if I took you out camping, you'd know how to get us food and stuff?" He asked, his eyes soft and shiny. "I heard you're pretty good at fishing, too."

Rabbit lit up, an excited grin pulling across his cheeks. "Yeah! Yeah, I chose one that's centered around our area and focuses on all the local plants! I've been sort of experimenting already on my walk back home from school? I made a soda with pine needles and then I collected puffball mushrooms and-" As he kept going, Andy nodded along with a grin of his own, his eyes moving back and forth between those strange mismatched eyes and the soft pink lips on his face. Jon Stone was going to be his. He was going to taste those lips touched with coca-cola and pine, and he was going to watch him blush and listen to him laugh and-

"Hey! Quasimodo!" Desmond was back in the room, stealing the book from Andy's hand and using it to give his brother a good thwack. Laughing as Rabbit winced and cursed, he gave the novel a once over before tossing it in his lap. "I'd tell you to go call your own friend to talk to, but you don't have any." He said, "Least you're not reading any faggy shit this time." Looking at Andy, he pat him on the shoulder and nodded him along. "C'mon. Alan's dad is paying for pizza."

Andy watched him grab his jacket and hop back out the front door before looking back at Rabbit. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, he thought quietly. Would there be any harm in kissing him goodbye? So much. Especially if Desmond happened to peek back in. He watched the frustrated, sad look move through Rabbit's face and frowned. "I'll talk to you later, Jonny." He said before flashing a small smile, "Keep your chin up, eh? See you at school." Pushing himself up, he reached out to ruffle through the boy's hair before following his friend out the door.

Rabbit lingered on the couch. His eyes fell to the book, and his frown deepened. Fuck Des.

[erin-bo-berin]

i love your whole dad!steve concept it truly makes my heart burst! set in the singlemom!reader verse, could you do something where it’s steve’s birthday and the reader surprises him with an adoption certificate asking him to adopt the baby?

That would be the CUTEST THING. Oh yes, I’m so excited for this! I have to use this gif because imagine how stunned and surprised and just shocked in general he would be. My heart 😭 (also, fun fact: I ended up including my little fur baby’s name in here)

“Surprise!”

“Jesus Christ! You scared the shi- uh crap out of me!”

Steve put a hand to his chest, eyeing the toddler in your arms, glad he’d caught the swear just in time. These days, she was repeating anything she heard so he’d tried to be extra careful what he said when he was around her.

“Happy birthday, Steve,” you smiled, putting the little girl in your arms down so she could greet him too.

She went flying the short distance between you and Steve, running over to him to hug his legs.

“Happee birfday daddy!” she squealed, wrapping her small arms around his legs.

He smiled, bending down to pick her up.

“Thank you baby girl and mommy,” he said looking over at you, the smile lighting his face.

“I got you pwesent,” she said, beaming up at her daddy.

“Did you now? What did you get me? Hmm, a tie?”

She shook her head emphatically.

You raised a brow, amused, “You? I’m a tie?”

He stuck his tongue out at you, playfully.

“Let’s see,” Steve resumed his guessing game with his and your daughter, “Is it…a book?”

“No!” she grinned.

“Is it your favorite stuffed bunny named Hoppy?”

“No, silwee!” she giggled.

Still working on her pronunciation of the word, “silly” came out much cuter and funnier than it should’ve, causing Steve to laugh with joy.

“Is it a million kisses for daddy?” he asked again, then started attacking her face with kisses, giving her numerous ones all over her face.

The little girl squealed with joy. It was one of her favorite things her daddy did, was give kisses.

“Mommy have pwesent,” she finally said when Steve stopped, pointing towards you.

You held a print out caked shaped design that the toddler had “painted”. But, at the top, you’d done a little activity with her. You’d dipped her entire finger into different paints and made a few “candles” out of her finger prints at the top of the cake. It had turned out adorable.

“What is this?” Steve asked, taking the picture, looking at it.

The smile hadn’t left his face yet, but it grew even brighter as he looked at the picture.

“Did you do this for me, sweetie?” he asked.

Your daughter nodded with a smile.

“Mommy hepped.”

“Mommy helped?” he translated.

“Yesh.”

“Well, I love it,” he kissed the top of her head, “Thank you so much princess.”

“You welcome, daddy.”

“The kids, Robin, Eddie, Nancy and Joyce all dropped off their presents earlier,” you chuckled, nodding to the pile of wrapped presents and gift bags on the couch, “The living room looks like Christmas currently.”

Joyce and Mrs. Wheeler were hosting a cook out party for Steve at the Wheeler’s house this weekend for everyone to gather and celebrate your boyfriend, but most of the gang had decided to drop off their gifts for him early, on his actual birthday. Today, he was celebrating with you and your daughter.

“Well I guess that means someone is going to have to help open all those presents. Who should it be?” Steve tapped his chin, thinking.

“Meme! Meme! Meme! Pwease, daddy?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely, of course you can.”

He kissed her cheek.

“What’s for dinner? It smells amazing in here,” he said, following you further into the kitchen.

“I fixed spaghetti since the munchkin requested it,” you said, sparing the little girl an amused glance, “I hope that’s okay.”

“Pagetti!” she cheered.

“Well, then I’m in luck because your spaghetti is my favorite,” he smiled, giving you a kiss as well.

“No,” your baby whined, trying to pull Steve’s face away from you.

She was currently going through a bit of a jealous phase where she wanted Steve’s attention at all times.

“Hey, now that’s not nice, sweetheart. There’s enough of daddy to share okay? See, look. I can give you a kiss as well.”

He kissed her cheek, then her forehead to prove his point.

“Now, can you say sorry to mommy?”

“I sowwy,” she frowned, not liking to upset either one of you.

“It’s okay sweetheart,” you soothed, running a hand over her hair.

“Go get cleaned up, dinner is almost ready, okay?” you told Steve.

“You heard what mommy said. Let’s go wash our hands okay?” he bounced her in his arms.

“Oh I got a present for you, too, but I’ll give it to you later, if that’s alright?” you said.

“Oh,” he smirked, “That’s more than alright.”

“Steve!” you huffed, hitting his chest playfully, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Alright, but can it be arranged? It is my birthday after all. I deserve some dessert.”

He gave you a grin, with a suggestive little wiggle of his brows before he walked out with the little girl, heading towards the bathroom.

“Besides cake, I mean!” he hollered.

You laughed, shaking your head at the audacity of him.

•

It wasn’t until after yours and Steve’s daughter was down for the night that you got the chance to give Steve your present.

True to his word, he’d let her help him open his gifts. She was a mess after the spaghetti dinner though, so bath time came first. Per Steve’s request, you and he gave her a bath together. She absolutely loved the extra attention, having both mom and dad with her for bath time was a rare occurrence. It was usually one or the other.

While Steve got her into her pajamas, you drained the bathwater and cleaned up the bathroom, not leaving it for later when you knew you’d be too tired to deal with the mess.

With hair still wet from the bath and in fresh pajamas, Steve set her in his lap and let her help him open presents. He let her pick which one to start with and it was off from there. You had a kick watching both of them, the toddler just as excited as Steve was. You appreciated how he included her in so much; you appreciated it more than he probably knew.

It wasn’t until the last few presents that her energy drained and the tell-tale signs of her sleepiness kicked in. She was yawning and rubbing her eyes, beginning to fuss at the mention of bedtime.

She fell fast asleep just before the last present and after opening it as quietly as he could—even though it didn’t disturb her the slightest—Steve carried her to bed and tucked her in.

He was tidying up the floor when you walked back in the room, picking up the pieces of wrapping paper and tissue paper from gift bags that had been carelessly thrown by an excited two and a half year old.

You hid the gift behind your back as you entered, biting your lip nervously. You were afraid that he might not like it as much as you’d hoped he would when you’d first received it. It was a medium sized rectangular gift box, wrapped in birthday wrapping paper, but it was what was inside that was the true gift.

Steve was chuckling to himself when you first entered and now he looked up, seeing you, filling you in on what was amusing him so much.

“I can’t believe Henderson got me four cans of Farrah Fawcett hairspray. What a kid.”

“Steve? Why don’t you sit down?”

Sensing your somber mood, he sat on the couch.

“What’s up?”

You sat down next to him, revealing the present from behind your back.

“Happy birthday.”

“Sweetheart, you didn’t have to get me anything,” he smiled, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you into him before kissing your temple.

“I know. But I wanted to. Go ahead, open it.”

He tore into the wrapping paper at a much more normal speed than that of the excited toddler earlier. He peeled away the wrapping to see the gift box you knew was underneath. He peered at you curiously before lifting the lid.

Inside, nestled in tissue paper was a small stack of papers. Steve’s brows crinkled in confusion as his eyes scanned over the paper on top.

“What’s this?” he asked.

He looked back down at his gift, his eyes widening when they landed on the word “adoption”.

“Is this…?” he started, not quite sure how to finish his sentence.

“It’s adoption papers. To legally adopt baby girl. Make her a Harrington,” you finished for him.

He stared at you, blinking. Then he set the box aside, taking your face in his hands. His thumbs stroked your cheeks gently.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

You saw tears in his eyes. You also saw a smile on his face. He was so happy and that erased any nerves you’d felt before he’d opened it.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

He kissed you then, holding your face firmly in his hands, trying to convey his gratefulness, his happiness, his love, in the single kiss.

As if that hadn’t been enough, he made sure you knew his answer when you two had parted.

“I’d love to adopt her.”

It was the best birthday Steve had ever had.

[agentwhiskeysdarlin]

Sex in the Stacks

Pairing: Billy Russo X F!Reader

Rating: NC-17 

Warnings: Billy because he comes with his own warning, semi-public to public sex, exhibitionism, sex in a bathroom in a bookstore, unprotected sex, p in v sex, rough sex, fluff ish, cute times, y/n is mentioned once, light choking, is that it?

Word Count: 2k

Summary: When reader runs into Billy Russo at a bookstore her life gets a little more interesting.

Author’s Notes: Guess who's back? Back again. Not only myself but Billy as well. It’s been a minute since I’ve posted and I’m sorry about that. Life, you know? I still suck at summaries. Also I have something super big coming soon... Anyways big thanks to @clint-aww-no-barton​ as always and enjoy!

ao3 link 

  The New York chill was brutal. You crossed your arms trying to find a bit of warmth as you hurried to cross the street. You slipped into the bookstore quickly, the bell of the door jingling. The woman behind the counter looked up and gave you a bright smile.

  “How are you today?”

  “I’m good Macy how are you?”

  “I’m good! Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Of course.”

  You gave her a smile and started off for your favorite section to browse. You unzipped your jacket before sticking your hands in your pockets as you let your eyes scan over the spines. You removed your left hand, fingers brushing the top of a book and pulling it from the shelf. You flipped it over and read the back before tucking it against you and moving on.

  You did this for awhile, losing yourself in the stacks and piling up several books in your arms. You were lost in looking for a particular book when you ran right straight into someone, the books in your arms thumping to the floor.

  “Oh shit I’m so sorry!”

  Looking up, you were met with the most handsome man you had ever laid your eyes on. You gaped for a moment, taking him in, before finally remembering the books on the ground. You bent down, picking up the books quickly and he followed suit.

  “It’s alright. Hey let me help you. You were pulling a hell of a balancing act,” he chuckled as he stood holding two books easily in one hand.

  You looked at him again with amazement and swallowed hard. He had a foot or two over you in height and his hair was pristinely styled. He wore a suit under his coat and his other hand held a book with a finger marking his spot.

  “Thank you,” you took the two other books from him and pulling them back in your arms.

  “Light reader,” he motioned with his own book.

  “Oh yeah. I don’t plan to get them all, even though I want to. I have to choose wisely,” you let out a shy laugh feeling your face heat.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to make your wise decision,” he gave you a smile that melted you.

  “I’m so sorry for running into you.”

  “Not a thing to be sorry for sweetheart.”

  He walked past you and his smell almost made you melt into puddle on the floor. You turned and watched him, only to be met with his brown eyes as he turned to watch you at the same time. You whipped back around, smiling wide, your face heating. You made your way to the small sitting space near the cafe, placing your books on the table. Shaking away any thoughts of the mysterious stranger, you began to make your choices.

  After you’d finished agonizing, you quickly placed the others back in their homes, before starting for the front of the store. You placed your choice on the counter and fished in your purse for your wallet, exchanging small talk with Macy.

  “Hang on,” a voice made both of you turn.

  The handsome stranger stood behind you, holding every book you had debated over earlier in his arms. Your mouth dropped and he stepped forward placing them on the counter.

  “What are you…”

  “I’ll take these and the one she was going to pay for.”

  Macy looked at you with a smirk and wide eyes, before turning back to him and ringing him up. You stood there, mouth open in shock. She bagged the books handed them over to him and he turned, pulling his book from the bag and handed the rest to you.

  “I…you didn’t have to do that.”

  “You wanted all the books, I could tell. Now let me take you across the street and buy you a coffee.”

  You stood there still in shock, a smirk on this beautiful man’s face.

  “I…um…,” Macy nodded fiercely behind him. “Yes I would love to.”

  He let out a chuckle at your stunned expression, before the two of you walked out of the bookstore and across the street.

  “What do you get?”

  You gave him your order and he asked you to snag a table while he ordered. You sat and tried to collect yourself from the shock of the whole situation.

  “Billy Russo,” the barista called and you smiled to yourself.

  “So that’s your name,” you looked up at him with a grin as he sat your coffee down and sat down across from you.

  “That’s me. I’d love to know yours.”

  “(Y/F/N).”

  “Well it’s a pleasure to formally meet you.”

  He stuck his hand out and you shook it with a giggle.

  “You as well. Thank you again, for the books,” you took a sip of your coffee.

  “It’s not a problem at all.”

  He gave you a dazzling smile. You couldn’t stop the blush if you wanted to. The two of you fell into easy conversation until you realized you had been there for two hours.

  “Damn. You probably have a life other than sitting here talking to me all day.”

  “I have all the time in the world sweetheart. I find you incredibly interesting,” his eyes looking you over and you swallowed.

  “I am not interesting. You however, mister CEO.”

  He scoffed but his eyes kept tracing over you.

  “You are a beautiful woman, who loves to read and has good taste. Plus your coffee choice ain’t all that bad either.”

  “Now is that all you’ve learned Mr. Billy Russo?”

  “Oh no. I’ve learned so much more than that.”

  His tone had changed along with the look in his eyes. A dangerous smirk slid across his face, and you would have let the man take you right then and there if he wanted to.

  “We should do this again,” he spoke the words, you so badly wanted to say.

  “I think we should too,” you smirked.

  And you did. The bookstore and coffee shop became frequent places for the both of you. You would discuss books and life while sipping coffee. Today would be no different. You walked into the bookstore, giving Macy a smile before heading toward the back where you always met Billy. There he sat book open, eyes scanning the pages in front of him.

  “Hey,” you spoke softly with a smile and he looked up at you and marked his page.

  “Well hello there sweetheart,” he stood and kissed your cheek, your face heating at the gesture.

  “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

  He still stood so close, his book forgotten on the chair behind him.

  “Not long at all,” his voice was lower than usual and you looked up at him.

  Billy’s eyes had something different in them and they watched you intently. His fingers caressed your chin before he bent his head and his lips brushed against yours. It was unsure and soft at first and when he realized you wanted it, he deepened it. His hand cupped your cheek, his other one coming up so your face was framed in his hands.

  He was intoxicating and you never wanted him to stop. Your hands came up to pull at his coat, pulling him closer. His tongue brushed across your lips and you opened up to him letting him take full control. You melted, sure that if he wasn’t holding you up you would be on the floor, boneless. Finally, and reluctantly, he pulled away leaving both of you panting.

  “Was that okay?“ he asked, eyes searching your face.

  “Of course it was okay,” you whispered back, your eyes finally fluttering open.

  “Now. Are you daring enough for me to take you through that door right there, right now and fuck you?” his breathe fanned across your skin as whispered the words, his voice deep in your ear.

  You swore your knees weakened even more and you let out a gasp. Wetness pooled at your core at the look in his eyes. You threw caution to the wind and nodded your head. You glanced toward the front desk, hoping Macy wouldn’t come to the bathroom, or anyone else, and you let out a small laugh knowing she would get a kick out of this.

  Billy pulled you through the door, shutting and locking it behind him, before his lips were crashing against yours again. He didn’t start gentle. His rough hands were everywhere, pulling off his jacket, then yours. His hands snaked up your dress and settled on your bare hips. You let out a sigh against him, wanting more and wanting it now.

  “Please don’t tease” You panted as you pulled apart, lips swollen and red.

  “Of course.”

  Billy let out a chuckle and spun you around, positioning you against the wall. You heard the rasp of his zipper, before he jerked your panties down eagerly. His fingers found your center and he let out a groan at your wetness. Then he was inside of you to the hilt. You gasped and your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the feeling of him.

  “Now remember you have to be quiet,” he whispered, his words full of amusement in your ear.

  Then he started to move, rough and hard thrusts, pounding into you. You wanted to scream at the intensity and as you let out a small squeak, his hand came down and covered your mouth. You were a mess, completely, as he had his way with you. His other hand gripped your hip, angling your hips so your ass stuck out from the wall slightly. Anyone passing by the door would know what was going on.

  Billy let his lips fall back to yours, his hand moving down to your neck just ever so slightly squeezing. You moaned against his lips and he deepened his kiss. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer, the wave threatened to crash into you hard. Your hand came up over the one on your neck and you pulled away from his mouth.

  “I’m close,” you whimpered tears in your eyes.

  “Cum for me,” he growled in your ear, his breathing harsh.

  He kept the hand around your neck as he swallowed the moan you let out. He never once let up as you crashed into your orgasm, nearly drowning in the feeling. He stilled deep inside you and groaned against your lips as he came. You both shuddered at the feeling, holding each other close for a few moments, before he finally pulled away. Both of you panted and you closed your eyes trying to collect yourself.

  “That was a new one,” you chuckled, as you turned towards him.

  He tucked himself back into his pants and you bent to pull your underwear back up.

  “Sure was. I really wanted the first time I took you to be in my bed, but I couldn’t wait anymore,” he smirked, his fingers brushed your cheek as your eyes caught.

  “Maybe the next time can be? If there is a next time…” your voice faded unsure.

  “Oh,” Billy’s hand gripped at your chin, holding your attention as his eyes seared into you.“There will be a next time. I promise you that.”

  You both grinned and you shared more kisses, sweeter this time compared to the fever pitch of earlier. Finally the two of you moved to the door and carefully stepped out making sure no one was around. Billy collected his book from the chair and the two of you made your way up front.

  “Meet me at the coffee shop tomorrow yeah? I wish I had time today but…”

  “That’s fine Billy. I’ll meet you there.”

  “We’ll make it a proper date yeah?”

  “Oh? That’s not what we’ve been doing?” You smirked up at him.

  He let out a chuckle his fingers brushing your hair behind your ear.

  “Hmmm I guess we have. I need to take you to dinner though especially after…”

  You pulled him down, kissing him again, before shaking your head at him. He chuckled at you and pulled away walking backwards out the door. You watched him go with a smile so wide it could have broken your face.

  “Do I need to give you my bathroom cleaner?” Macy spoke suddenly, making you jump.

  “Macy!” You let out a laugh and she joined in. “I’m sorry.”

  “Do not be sorry, not for sleeping with him. I never knew you had it in you.”

  “Oh I definitely had it in me”

  You gave her a smile before looking out the door where the man had walked away, still smiling.

Tagged: @mswarriorbabe80 @all-art-is-quite-useless @whatevermonkey @whichdirection @pascalisthepunkest @all-hallows-evie @artsymaddie @vvpoisonous @not-too-tall-for-trick @audreyshepbvrn @noushbitesback @kaqua

[xyfanficarchive]

Truant

Pairing: no pairing, Henry Creel/Peter Ballard/001 (Stranger Things)

Warnings: child abuse, physical violence, bullying, verbal abuse, emotional manipulation

Summary: (Autistic Henry Creel) At the end of a bad day, Henry decides to skip gym class. Or, my attempt to give a little more context to poor Henry's childhood.

Word Count: 3861

Author’s Note: !!! PLS be aware, I have not watched vol 2 yet, I started this June 30 and am posting it at work where i can post but not watch it, NO SPOILERS !!! hope you enjoy and also sorry for the pain. this is in the x reader tag bc im mostly a reader insert writer and also it kind of ties in to the other thing im working on soooooo

1959

Henry Creel fidgeted nervously with his hands as he stared down at the sheet of paper in front of him. The room was quiet but for the tick, tick, ticking of the clock on the wall and the sound of pencils furiously writing, trying to finish today’s math test before the bell rang and cut them all off. He was already done his own ten minutes prior, had already re-checked his answers only to pass the time and was now just anxiously awaiting period change.

Only one more class until he could finally leave for the day. In all years prior, this would at least be somewhat of a relief, but since 12-year-old Henry started seventh grade at Hawkins Middle School, he had phys ed last period, and after only a month he was already growing tired of the schedule, every day a slow build up culminating in forty-five minutes of pure, personalized hell. What’s worse, they were going to be outside in the field today, and even at the very beginning of September the afternoon sun was still scorching in flat Indiana.

Henry jumped in his seat when the bell finally rang, wincing in pain as it hurt his ears, the high frequency screaming through his skull - in math, he was sat front and centre, ostensibly the closest student to the horrible metal dome stationed above the blackboard, and this certainly never helped his transition into P.E. He rushed up to the teacher’s desk, book bag and test in hand, dropped the sheet off in front of him, and quickly left out the door. He was trying to race the crowd, make it to his locker, pick up his gym clothes and make it out of the halls before the entire rest of the student body filed out and overwhelmed him. This was something he had not expected about moving up from elementary to middle school; class time was broken up by short periods of pure adolescent chaos - endless raucous chatter, bumping up against anyone and everyone as he was forced to wade slowly through the crowds of hot, sweaty children in the summer heat, clouds of body odour smell assaulting his senses. 

He was entirely unprepared for it the first time. He remembered it only in bits and pieces, losing control of himself, screaming and running, running away, but there was nowhere to go, and children were gawking and laughing, and when he finally came to again he was curled up tightly in some dark, musty janitor’s closet, thump, thump, thumping as hard as he could on his own head with closed fists.

Now, knowing it was coming, and that it would come whether he wanted it to or not, he could at least prepare for and tolerate it long enough to get to his next class. He kept his head down as he went, and kids flooded out of the classrooms all around him.

“Hey, Creel! Having a good day today?” Someone calls out ahead of him, and Henry’s heart jumps. He spares a half second glance up ahead of him, and a feeling of dread starts up in his belly, because approaching him fast are Rob and Alexander - the first two human nightmares the town of Hawkins would throw at him over his time here. The Creels had arrived in time for Henry to spend the tail end of sixth grade at Hawkins Elementary, and it was there he had first crossed paths with the pair of friends. It hadn’t taken them long to decide he was going to be their victim, and had thus begun tormenting him months ago. To top it all off, they were in the same P.E. period as he was.

“Ready for gym today, Henry?” Alex sneered, taking him roughly by the shoulders and spinning him around, as they began leading him in the direction they were going - away from his own locker. Rob slung his arm casually over Henry’s shoulders, mock-friendly gesture, and leaned his weight in on the boy’s smaller frame.

“I- I-” Henry faltered, his brain locking up. The touch, the weight of the two bullies hanging off of him blistered, crackled like static on his skin, and they were pulling him so fast he was nearly tripping over his own feet.

“Coach Simmons says we’re starting soccer today! So what position are you gonna play, huh, Henry?” Rob laughed, leaning in too close to Henry’s face. He had bad breath from lunch. “Goalie? Defense? Forward? You gonna score all the goals in forward today?” He jeered.

“N-no… I-I’m no good at sports…” Henry managed after struggling with the question for a second, and cringes immediately knowing it was the complete wrong thing to say. Was there a possible right thing to say? Rob and Alex shared a look, breaking out into laughter, before Alex wrenched his book bag from around his shoulder, Rob restraining him. Henry watched in abject shock, not even a moment to react, as he dumped its entire contents onto the crowded hallway floor, shaking out the last stray papers and pencils, before throwing it unceremoniously on top of the pile of mess. Not a second later, Henry found himself tumbling to the floor when Rob all but threw him to the ground, and he rolled into some girl’s legs, making her stumble forward.

“Hey, watch what you’re doing!” She whipped around. “EWW!!! Were you looking up my skirt, you freak?!” The girl exclaimed, seeing Henry on the floor at her feet. Now there was an audience, snickering amongst themselves as they turned to watch his misery. Pain was beginning to bloom on his bare knees and elbows. He crawled back over to his books, contents scattered across the floor as people walked through them without any care, and tried desperately to collect it all and shove it back in so he could make his escape.

Rob bent down, leaned over into Henry’s face, far, far too close yet again, still laughing, the proximity forcing their eyes to meet in searing contact. “Guess you’ll just have to be target practice then, freak .” He flicked Henry on his forehead, between the eyes, and then backed away. All he could do was watch as they all but stepped over him and walked away, laughing together and leaving him in the dust.

The humiliation quickly faded away to a burning, murderous, violent rage. He knelt on the floor over his things, shaking with seething fury as he balled up his fists, staring down, down, focusing on the pile in front of him, because he was certain if he looked up he would fucking strangle the first person he saw laughing at him to death right here in the school hallway. The lights flickered overhead.

And he snapped out of it. He looked up and around, and found he was now in a silent, empty hall. Everyone had gone on to their final period classes already. He looked down at his lap and saw little wet droplets soaked into his khaki shorts, and wiped his eyes quick with the back of his wrist, embarrassed and angry. Then, he shoved his things haphazardly into his bag and got up, shakily, and continued back to his locker.

This was only the latest in a long chain of events that made today a truly awful day for Henry. First, he was wracked with nightmares the whole night before. That caused him to wake up late, and his mother had forgotten how much he disliked the texture of scrambled eggs at breakfast. Then, because he missed the school bus, his father yelled at him the whole drive to school. Then, he was scolded for daydreaming and not paying attention in front of his entire History class by a teacher who had obviously already decided she hated him. Then, he got back a D on his English test, that he was certain he should have passed.

The very last thing he wanted to do now was meet up with Rob and Alex and every other 12-year-old meathead in his gym class to play soccer in the deadly heat.

He arrived at his locker, and turned the dial back and forth to each successive number in the code, and then yanked it open, staring down at the bag sitting at the bottom, white t-shirt and gym shorts inside. Then he looked up to his right, at the double-door exit stood about fifteen feet away, sunlight shining in through the windows. He looked around, scanning his surroundings. Nobody in sight.

Maybe he didn’t have to. He shut the door to his locker, then walked right out of the school, and down the street. Easy as that.

He went to the library first, just to aimlessly wander the stacks and enjoy the quiet, but he didn’t find anything to read. All he cared to read about lately was spiders, and he had already checked out and read through every book on spiders and arachnids that the library had at least twice since getting here, so he left after half an hour. He didn’t want to browse the shops in town, and mostly he just wanted to avoid people as much as possible, so he wandered, and eventually found himself in a field near the edge of town, and laid down under a tree to watch the clouds pass overhead. They never seemed to look as good as they did back home. There, he noticed the scrapes on his knees and elbows that had bled a little and dried as he had walked through town. He passed the hours trying not to think too much, while also trying not to fall too deep into boredom, and thoroughly avoiding having to go back to his house. But it was inevitable. And when the sun started shifting into a lower angle in the sky, shadows lengthening and deepening on the ground, and the mosquitoes started to come out and bite, Henry got up and made his way back, listlessly dragging his feet the whole way.

It wasn’t too far, and was probably only a quarter past six by the time he approached the house. The family car was absent from the driveway, so his father and sister were still probably out on their planned daddy-daughter outing. He went up quietly to the door with the stained glass rose, and ever so carefully and slowly turned the doorknob, inching the door open just wide enough for him to slip through. He stood with bated breath as he shut the door behind him, scanning and listening through the house. He could smell dinner in the oven, so his mother was probably in the kitchen. All he had now was a short distance to the stairs, then to slip unnoticed up the stairs to his room - he tiptoed across the foyer, crept up the stairs, one, two, three, skipped the squeaky fourth, up and up, and he was almost to the top when - 

“HENRY CREEL! Don’t think you can just escape up to your room!” His mother shouted from the bottom of the staircase, and the boy startled, nearly losing his footing and falling all the way back down. “You are going to come right back down here and we are going to have a talk about the very disappointing phone call I received from the school today.” He spun around on the stair and looked down at his stern-faced mother as she beckoned him over aggressively. He paused, only for a split second, wanting to bolt up the remainder of the steps, before he recognized it would be no use and came back down, ears and face hot and red, to face her. His insides twisted painfully in fearful anticipation as she led him to the living room and sat him down in the center of the couch.

He was going to be scolded yet again. She never seemed to be happy with him about anything. She would sit him down and pace back and forth in front of him, complaining the whole time about something or other that he had done, or not done, or done completely wrong, pointing her finger and talking herself in circles, trying to verbally pound him into the shape of the perfect son she wanted so badly.

“Skipping class! I cannot believe this! To think this is the son I’ve raised!” She thrusted an accusatory hand in his direction, her other arm tucked tight against her body, gripping the belt of the apron tied around her waist that shielded her baby pink dress worn underneath. “Do you think this is acceptable?!” She suddenly crossed the room, getting so close in his space that he recoiled back, just slightly, trying not to make it too obvious that his limbs were trembling. His gaze was firmly locked on the floor at his feet.

“I- I just-”

“NO EXCUSES, do you hear me? Look at me when I’m speaking to you. Do you think this is acceptable behaviour in this household??” She took him by the chin and forced him to meet her gaze, and she was so very angry, it burned behind her eyes and hurt like touching a live wire to his brain, and he sat paralyzed, though he knew he had to formulate a good answer fast, and he fought desperately against the grinding halt inside his head, but -

He screwed his eyes shut tight, letting out a strangled cry of frustration. “I just hate gym class!! They all just throw things at me, just to hit me on purpose, and I can never get away in time!!” To say Henry was athletic would be a lie. He was not overtly clumsy, but he wasn’t particularly strong and lacked in that kind of body coordination.

“And you think that simply hating gym class is an acceptable reason to skip out whenever you please? Sometimes, people are going to throw things at you in gym, and you are going to have to learn how to dodge them! That’s just a part of it!” She had stepped back, throwing her arms outwards. “And you know,” she wrapped her arms tight again, white knuckling the fabric before she lifted her hand, pointing and jabbing her finger at him, “we are so very new in this town, Henry, that our reputation here is extremely fragile. Do you think they don’t talk? About how you don’t talk? To anyone. The teachers, your fellow students, your neighbors, nothing, no one, not unless you absolutely must, and then you look at them with such disdain in your eyes? Now imagine what they’ll think when they find out you’re a delinquent, a truant!”

His mother was always so concerned about reputation. Henry didn’t care, he didn’t care, there was nobody of note, nobody worth paying attention to, nobody worth the precious energy of talking to, or faking being nice to, because Hawkins was just another stupid town full of stupid people living pointless lives, sending him careening towards the same eighty-year banal inconsequential existence ending in a meaningless death that they all were. Happily they all went towards it, because it was just the way things are . From the tiny town in which they originated, to the more developed Hawkins, to the giant metropolises that Henry had never seen, it was all the same. But at the very least his tiny town was surrounded by the nature he loved so dearly, that gave him peace. He was angry, so angry that they had forced him to leave his home, and every word his mother spoke acting like he was an idiot for keeping himself separated only stoked the fire inside him.

“It’s because I hate them,” he whispered, still looking down, fists neatly placed on his lap.

“What did you say…?”

“I hate them. I hate everyone here! I hate this stupid town!! I hate that you brought me here!!!” Henry exploded, ejecting himself from the couch and circling to face her. “You think that moving here is going to fix me but you’ve just made everything worse!! I HATE being here! I hate the school, I hate the people, I hate the teachers, and the bullies, and I hate this stupid house! I HATE that you keep trying to fix me!!! I HATE my life, and I HATE!!! YOU!!!” The power in the room had surged, and the lights had slowly crept up in luminosity, humming and buzzing with intensity, until at once, at the apex of his emotion, the faulty lightbulb across the room shattered with a loud pop, and a clattering of glass shards to the floor.

There was a beat of stunned silence, Henry gasping and heaving, face cast in shadow, before his mother stormed across the floor. In that instant, she was someone different, raw and primal fury twisting and warping her face in such a terrifying way he could have never imagined as she descended upon him, reeling her arm back, and flat-palm smacking him across the face with such force he crumpled to the floor where he stood. 

Henry is dazzled, one moment standing after his outburst and on the floor the next, and his cheek doesn’t hurt right away, but when it does begin to sting like hellfire he barely has time to react to it before his mother takes him roughly by the arm and begins to drag him out of the room.

“ You ungrateful little brat, ” she seethed through her teeth, “we FEED you, CLOTHE you, pool everything together to move here and HOUSE you in this BEAUTIFUL house,” she dragged him through the foyer and up the stairs, not quite noticing that Henry wasn’t exactly getting his footing, and knocking his knees and shins all the way up. Her perfectly manicured fingernails were digging excruciating holes in his still slender arms that were sure to bruise, and he cried out for her to stop to no avail. “And you would dare to disrespect our home like that! You would DARE to disrespect ME like that! After EVERYTHING I’ve done! I cook, I clean, I CARRIED you for nine months!” She dragged him down the hall towards his room, and cast open the door so hard it slammed against the wall and left a dent in the plaster there, before she shoved him in, sending him plummeting down to the hardwood floor.

“I AM YOUR MOTHER, do you understand me?!” She bellowed, as he shrank away, cowering under her silhouette in the rectangle of light shining in through his doorway. “And YOU are going to sit in here and think about what you have done until you can PROVE to me that you’re ready to start showing some respect. You are grounded .” She spat, and slammed the door in front of him.

“And you’re not eating dinner tonight, either,” she muttered through the door, and Henry panicked hearing the key jingle in her pocket, as she drew it out.

“NO! No, please! Wait!” He scuttled across the floor on hands and knees, reaching up to cling to the doorknob, but it was too late, and it locked shut with a heavy clunk. “WAIT!!” He pounded on the door, but his mother’s footsteps only grew more faint as she left down the hall, down the stairs.

Weak, he slumped against the doorframe, shaky hand reaching up to brush the tender, red skin on his cheek, that lit up with pain at the gentle touch. His mother had never hit him before, ever. He had of course been disciplined by his father before, and he was familiar with his mother’s endless tirades, but she had never laid a hand on him once until today, he bared his heart out, his whole pain to her, and she slapped him so hard he dropped . He recognized, faintly, that he should probably feel like crying, but he was mostly gripped by an icy numbness around his heart.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

He curled up on the floor in front of the door and laid there frozen, unmoving, unthinking for some hours before he sluggishly sat up. It was fully dark, and there was some moonlight shining in through the window. Body aching from the hard surface, tired, and with hunger gnawing at his stomach, he dragged himself up and to his bed. From the clock on his bedside table, it was just past midnight.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

He laid down under the covers and stared lifelessly at the ceiling, absent as he tried to drift off, but there was a sound of slippered feet creeping down the hall, closer and closer, until it stopped right outside, waiting with bated breath for a moment before it slipped the key in the lock, turning it as slow and quiet as possible, and Henry quickly shut his eyes and pretended to sleep.

The person approached the side of his bed, inch by inch, and knelt down, and he could smell his mother’s hair products before he even opened his eyes.

“I know you’re pretending,” she whispered, and Henry let up the ruse, staring blankly at his mother’s face, she was clad in her nightgown, hair up in rollers for the night, wracked with guilt as she looked down at her son.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

“Oh, Henry, my sweet Henry,” she sighed, and timidly reached out to stroke his uninjured cheek. Henry only tensed, not saying anything. “I never meant to hurt you like that…” Her voice wavered, throat getting stuck up with the cry she was suppressing. “I know you couldn’t possibly have meant those awful things…” Henry willed his face not to twist up in disgust. There she went again, making assumptions about his inner life, pretending he was an empty headed little doll to fill up with whatever she needed, when she needed, the broken little deviant who was up to no good when she wanted to vent her frustrations, the sweet little angel boy when she needed a comfort. “I love you, you know that? I will always love you.” Her words, spilling out, felt like a slime on him, it was desperately uncomfortable, and he went even more rigid when she wrapped her arm around him.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

“Tell me you love me, Henry. Say it, sweetie,” she pleaded, looking into his eyes.

I HATE YOU!!! I HATE YOU!!! I HATE YOU!!!

“I love you, mom.” It came out monotone, he couldn’t make himself sound like he meant it, but he knew it would make her leave. She leaned back, he couldn’t really understand the expression on her face, but she was searching him for something. Then, her face softened a fraction, and she leaned back in to plant a kiss on his forehead, before wordlessly standing up and leaving the room. Henry hears the door lock behind her. Still grounded.

He turned over on his side to face the wall, too exhausted to be angry, and drifted off to sleep.

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Sami’s Fic Stash

Matching Melodies

Pairing: Armitage Hux x F!Reader

Summary: Soulmate Au - both of you have the same song stuck in their head from the first moment they make contact until they touch again.

Warnings: None I think. Angst? 🤷🏻‍♀️

Word Count: 3.7k+

I was working on this with @theoncrayjoy but then I hit a depressive slump and abandoned everything. Gosh, I really love this board! And I just realised there’s not even a picture of Hux on it? Who am I??

The case was digging in your back slightly as you made your way up the stairs. You were pretty sure what little make up you had put on was sliding down your face due to the heat today. Finally reaching the top you took a moment to huff a breath out before stretching for the door and pushing it open. You stepped through only to collide with someone who let out an exclamation of annoyance. You tried to squeak out an apology but the smell of coffee wafted up to you and you saw his nice white shirt was drenched with the brown liquid.

“Oh I’m so sorry!” He didn’t even look at you, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as he ran a hand through his thick red tresses. The paper cup was on the floor and you bent down to pick it up as he shook out the book he was holding, showering you in fine drops of coffee but you had no right to complain. You knew who this was, Armitage Hux. You both had mutual friends but had never really socialised together, he always seemed aloof and unapproachable so you never bothered. “I am really sorry.” His face was one of thunder and he tutted loudly, his face twisting into a haughty expression of annoyance. He acted like he hadn’t heard you, shoving past you and racing down the stairs leaving you standing awkwardly by the door holding a crushed paper cup. Just what you didn’t need today. Throwing the cup away you entered the recording studio and Rose gave you a pitying look.

“You really slammed into him, he will remember that for years.”

“Like he didn’t avoid me anyway,” you grumped, shedding the guitar case and falling into the seat beside her. “There are just people you don’t gel with and he is one of those people.” She shrugged, pursing her lips she ran a pen against her cheek.

“Anyway, Poe should be here in a minute then you can hear him screeching through the microphone.”

“Don’t be mean, he’s got a great voice,” you replied absently digging around for your notebook and pen from your bag.

“Hux inspired some song writing, huh?”

“Oh shut up Rose.”

“Oh how his green eyes sparked, and the love we had grew over spilt coffee…”

“You’re a fucking menace!” You threw her a contemptuous look and she sniggered but thankfully Poe and Finn arrived at that moment distracting your friend and allowing you to jot down some chords. It had been a while since inspiration struck so you tuned everyone else out after a quick hello and hunched over your notebook. Lyrics soon filled the page even as you crossed some of them out, wishing you could have your guitar in your hands to see how it sounded but you needed to wait until you got home.

It was a real ear worm, you could barely concentrate on the conversation flowing from your friends as you all grabbed lunch until Poe asked what was wrong.

“She’s got that far off look in her eye, what happened?” He asked Rose and she smirked.

“Oh she only slammed herself directly into Armitage Hux’s chest and spilled his coffee all over that lovely, expensive white shirt.” They all laughed and you felt the heat creep up your neck as you stared at your plate.

“He’s going to remember that until the day he dies,” chuckled Poe and you threw a chip at him that he successfully dodged.

“Doesn’t matter anyway, we were never friends,” you pointed out.

“Your crush died then?” You glared at Rose and she raised both eyebrows as she sipped her drink.

“Wait wait. You have a crush on Hux?” Finn asked, pointing at you.

“You’re all so juvenile!” You hissed. “That was way back in school, years ago. I’m very much over it. Now.”

“School, college, uni…” muttered Rose.

“I don’t believe a word of denial that comes out of your mouth,” stated Poe as he draped an arm over the back of his chair and picked up his drink. You shoved your food away and grabbed your guitar case as they all started talking at once, saying they were sorry and they wouldn’t talk about it again. But in all honesty you wanted to go home and play this tune that was on a constant loop in your mind.

Throwing your keys on the side you dived into your room, shutting the door and opening your book onto your most recent notes. The guitar was a comforting weight in your hands and already the stress of the day was falling away from you as you strummed the strings. Tweaking the tuning peg slightly as you strummed a chord, tilting your head a little to make sure it sounded just right before you started strumming the chords that had been plaguing you all day and everything was instantly forgotten as the melody wrapped you in a cocoon.

You hummed, chasing the tune from your mind and letting it flow from the tips of your fingers onto the strings. Never taking your eyes off your hands as they seemed to move independently, like you transcended to another plane to watch yourself play this song that you had no idea where it came from.

Again and again you ran through the chords, attempting to put words to the music, pausing to take notes every now and again when something just slotted into place. This is what you were good at, this was you at your best.

—

Of all the people. It had to be you that opened that door and wasn’t watching where you were going. You. The look on your face, pure shock and horror that you had drenched him in, thankfully, lukewarm coffee. You looked so pretty standing there in that summer dress while he was now reeking of coffee. You always took his breath away, not that he’d ever admit to anyone. He had brushed against you, desperately trying not to touch you but there was barely room and he was being eaten alive by embarrassment, he had to leave.

His shoes were loud on the concrete steps and he could almost hear your sigh follow him down the steps until he was bursting out into the sunshine.

“What happened to you?” Hux refrained from rolling his eyes as Ben fell into step beside him.

“What does it look like?”

“You missed your mouth again, Hux. We spoke about this,” Ben finished with a wide smirk. Shifting the book to his other arm he made a face of displeasure at the way the fabric was already hardening under the blazing sunshine.

“You’re always so hilarious,” he sneered at his friend.

“So I’ve been told. Many times.”

“You’re also an absolute prick,” snapped Hux and Ben paused on the pavement.

“Sure! You go off in a grump!” Hux jumped into his car but he didn’t head to his flat, instead he headed to the house he grew up in. The whispers of a song lingered at the back of his mind and for the first time that he could remember since his mothers death, he felt the need to play.

He always felt apprehensive coming here, his pulse was thready as he drove down the drive but he was fairly sure his father wouldn’t even notice he was in the house. It was lunchtime after all, the man would be passed out rip roaring drunk somewhere.

He paused at the front door, waving off the poor maid, the only one left that his father kept around and she darted gratefully off to hide in the kitchen no doubt. Taking a deep breath he tried to steady himself, to not let the memories overwhelm him as he slowly made his way up the stairs. Searching for a key he slipped it into the lock hearing the satisfied click and he quietly closed it behind him. The lights flickered and he was faced with a dark wooden panelled room, books lined one wall, bright light filtered through the curtains highlighting the dust in the air, but it was muted by the heavy material. A few things were covered in dust sheets, stacked to one side but it was the large shape in the middle that held his attention. Carefully fisting a hand in the fabric he ripped it off in one swipe, letting it pool onto the floor as he stepped towards the black shape. His fingertips trailed along the dark wood, it was still shiny even after all these years. Lifting the top board he had a quick look inside as he propped it open.

This was his mothers piano, one he had sat at for hours on end with her as she taught him. Since her death it had been locked up and forgotten, only recently had Hux been able to attain the key for this room and that’s because his father spent most of his time at the bottom of a whiskey bottle.

Tendrils of music replayed in his mind and he slowly sat on the leather topped stool. He raised the fall board and sat there for a moment just staring at the ivory keys, feeling the absence of his mother more than ever right now. Closing his eyes, shaking out his arms and straightening his back he rested his fingers on the keys. He remembered everything. It was the first time in years that he sat here, or played music at all but the tune in his head would not leave him alone. He allowed the tinkle of music to flow from the grand piano for the first time in years.

“Armitage, one day you’re going to write a song. A song for someone you love and it will be the best piece of music you ever produced. Because it would come from in here…” his fingers flew over the keys. The tune that had been encroaching in his mind came alive around him and he got lost in the feel of it. The way his fingers spread over the keys, the shift of his feet and the relaxed flow of his arms. Each press of the chords was precise, like the music had always been inside him and he knew this piece intimately. It swelled to a crescendo that filled him with a serenity tinged with sadness, he could almost imagine her sitting there next to him, that soft smile on her face she had whenever he played.

He lifted his fingers off the keys to let the notes slowly fade away as the hammers became still and he sighed, knowing he was now going to have to write this down. He needed to write this song, for you.

—

It was early. The sun was warm on your bed as you sat on top of the covers. The guitar rested easily on your knees as you strummed the strings, looking around your room. Your double bed was in the middle, some shelves with fairy lights and photos decorated the wall behind you, a small desk where your laptop sat was to the right with clothes littering the chair. The other side had your closet and kallax unit, both bursting with items that were all you. Clothes, t-shirts with bands printed on the front, your electric guitar hanging on the wall, bags covered in badges hung from pegs off the back of your door. Occasionally you told yourself you were going to have a sort out, but once you started you didn’t have the heart to throw anything away because of the memories attached to them.

You hummed the tune that seemed to play on a loop in your mind, it had been weeks, niggling away at you even after you’d written down as much as you could. The chords had come so easily but the words were harder, even now you frowned at the open book before your crossed legs…something still wasn’t right.

Looking up at the sound of the front door, you moved the guitar and stood up, smiling when you caught sight of your flat mate trying to creep in.

“Fucking hell!” She cried loudly at the sight of you standing in your doorway with your arms crossed.

“What time do you call this?” You asked her pretending to tap at your non-existent watch as she rolled her eyes while still wearing last night's clothes.

“You should have been there, party was a blast.” She disappeared into her room and you walked past shaking your head with a knowing smile tugging at your lips.

“You want a coffee Rose?”

“You betcha! I need one.”

“Aren’t you teaching today?” You called round the corner emptying an old pod out of the machine.

“Yeah! A bunch of bratty 9 year olds who don’t wanna be there but their parents made them. So they make my life hell. Oooh thanks!” She rounded the corner and swiped the fresh coffee out of the machine. “How’s your song coming along?” You made a face, every time you thought about it the butterflies in your stomach churned because today was Saturday.

“Yeah good,” you lied.

“Because you’re playing tonight? At The Snug?” You shrugged. You wanted to be excited but the nerves were kicking in and kicking your ass. Rose eyed you for a moment over her coffee as you approached, resting your cup on a coaster and curling your legs beneath you on the sofa. “Nervous?”

“No. I mean….yes. Massively,” letting out a nervous giggle you finally made eye contact with her and she smiled at you.

“I’ve been hearing you play that song for weeks, day, night, dusk, dawn. It’s great, I could probably play it,” she told you with a wink.

“Oh god please do! Open mic nights are always busy there and I’m really wishing I hadn’t put my name down,” pressing your hand into your stomach you hoped it would lessen the nerves but it only made them worse.

“Don’t be stupid. They’re going to love it and they’re going to love you. Fresh meat is always welcome.” You reached over to slap her arm but she dodged with a laugh, draining her cup and getting up. “I’m gonna be late if you keep distracting me!” She cried. “Figure out your song, I will need cheering up later!”

You called out a farewell just before the front door slammed behind her and you were left with the swelling tune of the song in your head yet again. Rubbing your temples you tried to dispel it but nothing worked unless you had the guitar in your hand, the chords pressed into your fingertips and the lyrics spilling from you. Only then did you find peace.

—

“You’re going to do amazing sweetheart,” whispered Poe as you leaned out the side, your eyes taking in how busy it was tonight.

“Your song is perfect and we are going to be cheering you right from the front,” Rose said as she bustled round you, straightening your outfit and your hands clutched the neck of your guitar tightly.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you whispered as the singer on the stage wound up their song to rapturous applause. “Everyone has done covers and I’m here doing an original song? They’re going to boo me off.”

“That’s just the nerves, you’ll be fine. You’re up! Go go!” Poe forcefully shoved you meaning you had to go with the motion to save tripping up on stage before all these people. The lights were bright as they glowed at you, hiding the crowd slightly and you relaxed into what you did know. Tuning your guitar as light conversation filled the bar while the patrons waited for you to set up. Perching on the stool more comfortably you adjusted the microphone and cleared your throat.

“Hello,” a few replied and you smiled apprehensively into the glaring lights. “I’m going to perform an original song for you all tonight, I hope you like it.” You did a few last second checks, listening to the sound of the strings as you strummed a tester chord before launching into the song.

Once you did everything melted away, you’d never experienced such numbness and such emotion all in one go with a song before. It brought you a serenity and naturalness that you had been hunting for as the words flowed from you in a rhythm that seemed like it belonged to you.

That was until someone interrupted you.

You slammed a hand over the sound hole of your guitar, silencing the strings as Armitage Hux of all people came barging through the crowd with a furious expression on his face.

“What do you think you’re playing at?” He shouted.

“N-nothing,” you stuttered into the microphone. You just wanted the stage to fall beneath your feet and drop you into a deep, dark oubliette. Murmuring rippled across the bar as Poe went to intercept Hux and you felt tears brimming in your eyes in the face of his blatant anger and your sudden embarrassment.

“That’s my music! I’ve been working on it for weeks!” He shouted loud enough for the entire bar to hear. You saw Rose detach herself from Finn and she went to say something to Hux but he just scoffed and screwed up his face. You couldn’t move, rooted to the stool. It felt like a massive truck was heading towards you but you couldn’t move as it slammed into you full force.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the mic, finally managing to move and disappear backstage. You slammed the lid on your guitar case just as Finn rounded the corner.

“You ok?” He asked but you just shook your head, not trusting yourself to talk.

“Rose is handing the irate ginger off to his keeper,” huffed Poe. He pressed himself into the wall as you shoved past him in the right corridor.

“I just need to go home,” you muttered.

“Finn, check that Rose hasn’t knocked their heads together, would you? I’ll make sure she gets home.” Poe draped your jacket over your shoulders and opened the back door for you before following closely. You kept your head down as you marched across the car park only for Poe to suddenly tackle you from nowhere.

“Poe, what the…?”

“Ssshh!” He hissed and you followed his gaze to see Hux and Ben appearing from round the corner.

“Why couldn’t you have just waited?” Ben tried to keep his tone quiet but it still carried. “You had to make a scene, huh?”

“She was playing my song!” Hux snapped loudly.

“You couldn’t even let her finish!”

“Finish? She was playing my music! She stole it from me.” Ben huffed and rubbed his temple as he kept up with Hux’s Lind strides to his car.

“Fucking how, Hux? Your notebook hasn’t left your side!” He shouted gesticulating wildly.

“I don’t bloody know, but she did. I’d recognise that song anywhere it’s been in my head for weeks!”

“Yeah I know, I’ve been hearing the ‘plink plink’ all this time.” Hux levelled a scathing look at him over the roof of the car.

“Shut up Solo.”

“You shut up,” mumbled Ben as he slipped into the passenger side. You and Poe watched them drive off from the shadows and you sniffled quietly.

“He really believes I stole his music?”

“We all know you didn’t,” Poe said reassuringly, rubbing a hand up and down your arm. The rest of the walk home was in silence as you wrestled with a feeling of guilt that you shouldn’t have. The song came to you randomly, you hadn’t heard him play anything so what were the chances of the pair of you writing the same song at the same time? Poe bid you goodnight at the door leaving you in the darkness of your flat. Rose rang and asked if you wanted her to come home but you assured her you were fine and she should stay out and enjoy herself.

Shutting yourself in your room you checked the dates of everything on your notes and any demos you���d recorded, downloading them onto a stick you shoved everything in a bag and set it by your door. Tomorrow was Sunday and you decided to pay Hux a visit.

—

Armitage paced up and down the room with the piano, tossing angry looks at it as he tried to control his erratic heart rate. He had no idea he was even going to react until he was yelling at you in front of everyone. He couldn’t believe his ears at first, but when you started singing, the words varied slightly but the tune was unmistakable. He’d felt white hot anger and he couldn’t deny it was aimed at you, you who he had written that very song for. It felt like you had reached into him and ripped his very essence out, laying it on the stage for everyone to see and then claiming it as your own.

His irrational thoughts were loud and made no sense against his logical thoughts as they crowded to be heard. It was late and he should have gone home but this is where he migrated to in his moment of pain. He replayed the expression on your face as he pulled you from the relaxed bliss of the song, the way your eyes widened and you lost all confidence as soon as he opened his mouth.

He was an idiot, an idiot. There was no way you’d even go near him now, or look at him without contempt in your eyes. But then, he was used to that. He sighed and eased himself onto the stool, reaching for the glass of whiskey that rested on the top. The amber liquid was comforting and he wondered yet again, if he was turning into his father. He scoffed into the still room, maybe he was. Necking the alcohol he placed the empty glass back on the piano and stood, reaching down for the dust sheet that had covered the piano once before.

He closed the top board, almost feeling his mothers disappointment as he did but he shrugged it off. He dropped the fall board down and threw the cover back over the instrument. Maybe it was time to put this to bed for good, his mother was gone and clearly his musical talent had died with her.

“You were wrong,” he murmured to the empty room. “Wrong.”

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Okay, I know hockey player versus figure skater is a super cliché rivalry, but all day today, my brain was like “hockey player Cassian! Hockey player Cassian! Hockey player Cassian,” so here we are. Also, fun fact, this exact event actually happened to my little brother at one of his games. TW for blood and injuries. Hope you enjoy :) @nessianweek

The cool rush of the air conditioning is the first thing that hits Cassian as he pushes through the doors. The throwback pop song pumping out of the speakers and the smell of popcorn from the snack bar hits him next. He shifts the strap of his bag on his shoulder, resettling the weight, his sticks clacking together in his other hand. He makes his way over to the board declaring the locker room assignments for the day, squinting until he finds the Illyrians. He's about to head off toward their locker room when his eyes snag on someone. 

Nesta is perched like a queen on one of the benches in the lobby, her white skates resting beside her. She has a sweatshirt pulled on, but the red skirts of her dress skim across her thighs, and Cassian can see the jeweled embellishments peeking out under the collar. Unsurprising, she has a book opened in her hands, probably another of her smutty romances. Even in the harsh fluorescent lighting, Cassian finds himself drawn into her eyes, the way they glint as they dance across the pages. 

Cassian doesn't have to think twice before he's sauntering over to her. He drops his bag with a loud thump at her feet, a smile pulling across his face at her answering glower. He loves this game they play. The way he pushes her buttons and she pushes his always leaves flames licking up his skin in the most delicious way. He's sure they make quite the sight, the hockey player and the figure skater, but he'll never stop going back for more. 

"What do you want, Cassian?" 

"Love the outfit today, Nes. The sparkles really contrast well with your dark soul." 

"Don't you have to go smash someone into the boards?"

"I'd love to press you up against the boards." 

Cassian throws a wink her way for extra good measure, and the way Nesta's eyes narrow has his heart ticking up slightly in his chest. 

"Prick," Nesta mumbles, opening back up her book. 

With a chuckle, Cassian takes it for the cue that it is, picking back up his bag and heading for the locker room. He offers Azriel an easy grin as he passes him, his brother merely shaking his head at his antics yet again. 

~ * * * ~ 

Nesta hears her sister before she sees her, Feyre's laughing bouncing off the walls of the lobby. She closes her book and grabs her skates, but as she heads for the door, her steps falter and pause as she takes in Elain walking in beside Feyre. 

"Since when does it take both of you to pick me up?" Nesta asks once her sisters are close enough to hear. 

"Actually," Feyre starts slowly. "We were thinking we could stick around for the game." 

"What," Nesta deadpans, taking in both her sisters' expressions and inwardly sighing when she sees they're both actually serious. "Fine. Give me the keys, and I'll pick you both up later." 

"Oh, Nesta," Elain says, taking Nesta's hand in her own. "It'll be fun. Besides, you and Cassian are friends. Don't you want to see him play?" 

"We are not friends." 

"That's for sure," Feyre pipes in. "There is way too much sexual tension for that to be considered friendship." 

Nesta shoots a glare Feyre's way, but her sister merely smiles innocently. The mischievous glint swirling in her eyes tells Nesta she's not getting the keys from her youngest sister anytime soon. Which is how Nesta ends up pressed between her two sisters, the cold of the metal bleachers biting into the underside of her thighs and a shared blanket draped across their three laps. Elain keeps clapping excitedly to her right while Feyre shouts, "go, baby, go" every time Rhysand cuts up the ice on her left. Nesta thinks her eyes might actually get stuck from rolling them so much. 

Despite the equipment and jerseys making it hard to tell the players apart, the whole team blending together into a mash of blues and gold's, Nesta finds she can pick Cassian out fairly easily. She tells herself it's because he's clearly the biggest guy on the team and the hair sticking out the back of his helmet is a dead giveaway. But either way, her eyes always seem to find him any time he's on the ice, whether he’s sweeping along the blue line to make a play or throwing his body against the other team. 

They’re into the third period when Nesta watches Cassian jump over the boards, joining the rush before falling back into the neutral zone as the other team gains possession. He guards his man well as the play shifts to their defensive zone, the other player trying and failing to shake Cassian loose. The player tries to deke around him, but Cassian is quicker, their sticks clashing together. 

It's like it all unfolds in slow motion. The puck popping up into the air between them. The other player raising his stick like he plans to bat the puck down. The stick colliding with Cassian's head. 

There's a collective gasp from the crowd watching the game as Cassian crumbles to the ice, falling onto all fours. And then there's red. A few drops at first, but soon it's a steady stream. It seeps into the ice, spreading out around Cassian like a crimson puddle. 

"Oh my gods," Feyre whispers.

"I hope he's alright," Elain chimes in. 

Nesta knows that her sisters keep speaking, but all she can hear is a ringing in her ears, like a high pitched screaming sinking its claws into her mind. Her hands fist into the blanket in her lap, and she watches with wide eyes as a trainer walks onto the ice, pulling the cage of Cassian's helmet up and sliding a towel under. With the help of two teammates, Cassian's on his feet and skates back to the bench. Nesta's stomach roils as one of the rink staffers and the referees scrape Cassian's blood from the ice, and even when the game resumes, she can't take her eyes off Cassian slumped over his knees on the bench. 

~ * * * ~ 

Cassian can't help but poke at the bandage on his forehead as he checks himself in the locker room mirror. It's still tender, and he winces at the pain that radiates from that spot. Definitely going to leave a scar. At least he got a goal tonight. Small victories. With a sigh, he shoulders his bag, grabbing his sticks by the door and heading for the rink exit. 

When he steps into the lobby, he finds Nesta standing there. Cassian knew that both her sisters were here earlier, but a quick sweep of his eyes around the room shows them nowhere to be found. When his eyes dance back to Nesta, she's already looking at him, something intense brewing in her eyes like storm clouds rolling in. It leaves Cassian captivated, and in a few strides, He’s standing in front of her, dropping his bag at their feet. 

"What are you still doing here, sweetheart?" 

Cassian throws as much cheek as he can into the question, letting that cocky grin he knows gets under her skin slide across his face. He expects Nesta to scowl, to make some snide remark back, to pick up their game right where they left off, but Nesta's face remains serious. He watches in confusion as she crosses and then uncrosses her arms across her chest, takes a deep breath like she's steeling herself. 

"I just wanted to make sure you're alright," Nesta explains, her eyes glancing up to the bandage before settling back on his own. 

"Oh," Cassian says dumbly, blinking down at Nesta a few times before his brain finally catches up. "It was just bad luck. Stick hit just right for one of the screws in my helmet to go right into my head." 

"It looked… bad." 

"Well, head wounds bleed a lot." 

Nesta nods and silence falls like a blanket between them. Cassian's brain kicks into overdrive, suddenly desperate to keep whatever this precarious moment is going, keep her talking to him, keep those eyes on his. It sparks in his chest like a piece of flint, fire burning under his skin. He's so busy floundering, trying to will his head and mouth to produce actual words, that he almost misses the frown that takes over Nesta's face, her eyes caught on his hand. 

"You're not thinking of driving, are you?" 

The sudden question takes Cassian by surprise, and Cassian’s brow furrows in confusion until he remembers his car keys are in his hand. 

"How else would I get home?" 

"You can't drive with a concussion."

"What makes you think I have a concussion?"

"How could you not have a concussion?" 

"If I had a concussion, why would I have gone back out on the ice to finish the game?"

"Because you're an idiot." 

Before Cassian can even splutter out a protest at the insult, Nesta is reaching forward and snatching the keys out of his hand. Then, for good measure, she reaches out and takes his sticks out of his hand too. 

"There's an Urgent Care like five miles away that should still be open." 

With that and a final, firm nod, as if she's decidedly made up her mind and Cassian can't change it, Nesta turns on her heel and makes for the doors. Cassian is left there gaping, blinking dumbly after her retreating form, while his sluggish brain tries to grasp what exactly is happening. Maybe he is concussed. Not giving himself another second to contemplate, Cassian scrambles to pick up his bag, tossing the strap over his shoulder as he hurries after Nesta. 

"Can I at least buy you dinner after?"