#hate it? sure whatever you have your own taste but at least come up with reasons why

[willowlevulett]

The second part of my self-indulgent Jayce smokes sadly on the balcony drabble. Truly, this man can not be written without a desperate longing for his lab partner. Small CW for a small reference of Jayce's canon attempt.

-

The balcony door clicks closed. Jayce feels his throat close along with it.

The freezing air wraps like a wreath around the soft brown hair of his partner, puffs of white smoke from his lips. Puffs of white smoke from Jayce's. Despite everything, all he wants is to know what it tastes like if those clouds meet in the middle.

Despite everything, he wants to press his palm back to the side of his throat for the entirety of whatever was to come. He wants to feel the words Viktor was about to press into the distance between them. If they are to be seperated, deathly final and with a flourish, Jayce wishes he could enscribe each syllable to the harsh callouses on his fingers.

Dramatic, Caitlyn would tease him.

Viktor, despite the surely audible thrash of Jayce's fast beating heart, simply sits and does not speak for several minutes. He stares forward, his eyes focused in a way Jayce knew that he was not on this balcony. Not really. He was a million miles away, dissecting and ripping apart something with his teeth. Savoring each mouthful before he would even think to bring it to Jayce. So he waits, like he always does.

He busies himself with straightening out the mess he made. The one he can at least. The ash tray, now chipped but intact, returns to its spot on the small side table. He scoots his chair back into the position it was before and tosses the chip of glass from the tray into the small trash can where he throws his cigarette butts. It is finished woefully fast and Viktor still isn't looking at him.

He lights another cigarette, angling his chair away from Viktor and blowing the thick smoke out over the side of the balcony. The freezing wind whips it away and ushers it off to better things. His sighs through his teeth. This was stupid. He should just shatter this silence between them. He usually does whenever he messes up bad enough for Viktor to have to gut and clean the imagined Jayce in his head. Looking for clues in the bloodied carcass of his imagined partner of how he could be so stupid. Usually, Viktor would give up, hands buried deep in his spectral innards and demand that Jayce give him the taste of the real thing. And Jayce does, every time.

Jayce would let Viktor rip him open from sternum to hip hone. Would let him dig through as he pleases, caress organs and sinew with the methodical care only Viktor is capable of. Precise and calculated movements, laced with warmth and that small smile Jayce loves so dearly.

Jayce wants to scream 'tell me what to do and I'll do it. I would tear myself apart to keep you warm'.

He keeps his goddamn mouth shut and takes another drag.

"I hate that you got an apartment with a balcony."

The silence stretched for so long, the statement said so briskly that Jayce once again startles.

He huffs a humorless laugh, smoke bleeding through his lips as he repsonds.

"Come on, Vik. You know I'm too dramatic to settle for my own balcony."

"That's not funny."

"It's a little cold to be funny. What did you need? I know you need something. You got that look in your eye like your knee deep in my fucking brain stem." Viktor doesn't turn his head but his eyes shift, giving him an incredulous side eye like Jayce should have no idea that he does that. Feeling bold, Jayce steadily meets his sideways gaze, dares him to deny the assessment.

"I can guess but I always prefer to get my dress downs directly from your mouth." This makes the side of Viktor's mouth quirk. Jayce almost hopes he takes the bait that statement creates. At least it would make this conversation more bearable.

He doesn't.

"What you said." The pause afterward makes Jayce want to tear his hair out. God, he could feel that this conversation was going to be a sputtering engine. Roaring to life and then choking out black smoke, stuttering to a stop in painful stalls.

"You can't just," he bites down onto his lower lip, running it between his teeth before releasing it, "say things like that."

Jayce wishes Viktor would take him between his teeth. Leave dents and marks in him until Viktor was satisfied.

"But it was cruel of me to send you away like that. I apologize."

Cruel is how Viktor still hasn't fully looked at him. Cruel is the unsteady breath Jayce is taking and the pinprick of tears behind his eyes. Cruel is the freezing night air that rushes in the space between their bodies.

The conversation sputters black smoke.

Finally, after one long drag, Jayce rubs his temple and manages to push the words out, "Okay, well, thanks for that. And I am sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I'll keep my feelings to myself from now on."

Viktor seems to crumble in on himself at that. The side of his face looks pained which confuses Jayce. Is this conversation not a continuation of the rejection he received last night? What did Viktor want from this? It certainly wasn't what Jayce just said.

He could feel the cogs slipping in the machine but he couldn't see where it was misaligned. He needed to tear the hatch cover off, get his hands dirty, and potentially mangled in the process.

Well, if there's anything Jayce is good at, it was certainly throwing himself into the blazing heat of forward motion. What were a couple more scars anyway.

"Why does it make you so uncomfortable? Is it truly so horrible that I feel this way for you?" He meant to sound firm, maybe even stern. Instead he sounds petulant, small. The last part of the sentence whispered with a mortifying crack in his voice. He also realizes he hasn't said what he means. Not really. He knows his eyes poured out the truth like a weeping wound, staining Viktor and the couch below them both. But there is a misaligned cog here.

"Viktor, I-"

"I can't." Black smoke, a click of a tongue in frustration, the restart of the engine, "You can't play with me like this, Jayce. You can't look at me like all the hookups you sweep off their feet in bars. I can't be that for you." It was his turn for his voice to drop down into quiet and small. The voice crack sending painful shivers down Jayce's spine.

The statement is so confusing to him at first that he simply stays still for a second, his cigarette dropping ash between his thighs. Can't be that for you and all the hookups you sweep off their feet.

What?

"What?" The misaligned cog in the conversation catches him in the meat of his thumb, ripping out a chunk and sending his heart into a painful squeeze.

"You think that I- oh gods Viktor please look at me."

Finally, oh finally, Viktor turns and his molten honey gaze burns into Jayce. If he was a funeral pyre, Jayce would light the wood himself.

"You think I want a quick, messy fuck?" He huffs out a laugh at the thought. Gods, no. Jayce wanted to bash his skull open and leave his cerebrum as an offering at Viktor's feet.

"Well it makes the most logical sense. You were inebriated and looking at me like-" he clears his throat awkwardly, "like you wanted to eat me alive. After all these years? Of me quietly- well it made the most sense. And I got, emotional. Angry." He shakes his head as if this was the most ridiculous part of the situation, him being angry at Jayce.

"Quietly what, Viktor."

"Please, Jayce."

"Quietly what?"

The wind stills, as if holdings its breath along with the two men on the balcony. Jayce was and always will be reckless.

Jayce slides down onto his knees, the cold ground immediately biting through his jeans and into the bone. He puts his hands forward, clasped as if in prayer, onto Viktor's lap. When the other man startles and looks down at him with a wild look in his eye, Jayce slips his prayers between them, grabbing firmly onto Viktor's hands. His breath, tinged with cigarette smoke and the heat of his emotions boiling over in his stomach, puffs up into the face of the man he's so desperately in love with.

"I am in love with you. So painfully, so wholly that those words aren't enough. If I could tear out my heart and let you inspect it for defects, for a lie, I would. If I could carve your every breath into my ribs, I would. Whatever you want. Whatever you need." He shifts on the ground, pain pulsing up from his right knee. A crunching noise reaches past the pulse pounding in his ears, and he realizes that there was a tiny shard of glass under that knee. He hopes the wound scars.

"I don't care what you have 'quietly' been feeling this whole time. If it's a fraction of what I feel or simply tolerance. I don't care. I'm done folding this away and trying to be normal. I will be whatever you want me to be. A lover, a partner only in the lab, your bed warmer on cold nights. Whatever you want. If I could hand over my soul for you, I would"

As soon as he finishes his dramatic speech, he realizes he means it. More than anything, he means it. He feels insane. He is insane. Those are insane words to say to someone, no matter how entwined you are with them. Despite this, he wants to say more. Needs to say more.

"I don't want to eat you alive." Jayce presses a kiss reverently to Viktor's red tinged knuckles. "I want you to eat me alive."

Black smoke clears, the engine clicks into gear. Viktor's hand snakes out from Jayce's grip and latches onto his chin, a mirror of last night but flipped on its head. Last nights grip was stilling, horrifying, causing him to beg for forgiveness before even knowing the sin. Instead, this touch was electrifying, a potential. A spark for a wildfire that Jayce's mouth stretches open to catch on his tongue. Viktor's thumb sweeps to the side, catching on his lower lip and staying there like it was always meant to.

"You mean it." His mouth is apage in awe, his breath ghosting past his lips and puffing over Jayce's face. "Fuck, you really mean it, Jayce."

And like god sending rain down to parched earth, Viktor presses his freezing, chapped lips to Jayce's. The spark alights on Jayce's teeth and burns through him in a blink of an eye, a gasped breath pushed against a closed mouth.

The kiss descends quickly from the press of lips Viktor might have meant it to be into Jayce desperately angling his head upwards, greedily sucking Viktor's bottom lip between his. Determined to feel where his teeth had sunk into it just a couple minutes earlier. It tastes like smoke, like hot iron, like day old coffee. He drinks it down and begs for more, pressing upwards so his hands can slip from Viktor's lap and into his hair. It's sweaty at the nape from a day in the lab and tangled from his incessant play of the strands there. It's everything Jayce thought it would be. Viktor gasps against his mouth, and that too is everything Jayce had hoped it would be and so much more. Hot and humid breaths passed between mouths. Teeth clicking in a desperate attempt to get closer. Viktor's hand tangling in the fabric of Jayce's sweater, tugging insistently forward, forward, forward.

They break for air out of necessity, but Jayce doesn't let them separate. He buries his face into that column of throat he so desperately wants to map with his tongue.

"I fear more talking will be needed." Viktor out of breath, chest heaving panting breaths that Jayce can feel where his lips brush his neck.

"After. Whatever you need. But after." And Jayce pulls his face down to his once more.

[tuliptiger]

Bro I hate Silco so much. Bro. And don't get it twisted right. He's a good character, he's well written or in THE VERY LEAST incredibly interesting and compelling. To me I guess. I still can't stand him, I hate him and I think he embodies every human flaw a person can have. And every bad decision we make at our lowest points.

And for that I can't stand him in the purest way and I think that's kind of awesome. Get him out of my face though lol fuck that guy. Great presentation of what I feel a lot of people in the world are like or have the potential to be like rn.

For what he was meant to be, having just found out the original plan for him which I really shouldn't consider. Or maybe I should in favor of him, as a little grace for him. I guess Jinx and him were supposed to be like romantic. If that's your thing go for it I guess but I'm not going to talk nicely about it and it disgusts me as a heads up. Fair warning.

I'm forever grateful they didn't pull a Joker/Harley Quinn but because jesus christ I think I actually would've hated Arcane for that. For all you people complaining about Arcane, sure that's your right and it's all personal tastes anyway but it could've been actually, sincerely awful. It would've ruined Jinx as a character and undercut all of her nuance, her autonomy as a real, deeply thought out character. Her struggles, her mental health, her trauma, it would've fucking sucked.

I hate Silco for even the possibility of that and unfortunately i think it explains a little bit about some things. But anyway, back to hating Silco.

1.) He betrayed every single thing he's ever cared about in his life. He betrayed Felicia by trying to and knowingly kill her children. He betrayed the promise he made to not JUST Vander but to Felicia and himself.

Because what? Vander betrayed him first? Because he tried to kill him? Because he probably does feel genuine regret about maybe enacting the event that got Felicia killed? We never get the story but I think it's implied. Either that or Vander really was just deep in grief and rage and put that on Silco. I think they both fucked up for the record but Vander didn't CONTINUE that for the rest of his life.

What did any of that have to do with Vi and Powder/Jinx though? He's the reason everything bad happened, maybe you could blame Viktor since he went back to give Jayce the rune but every bad moment after that is almost exclusively Silco.

2.) He bribed Marcus contributing to the corruption in Piltover and Zaun. He fed drugs to Zaun for the point of nothing in my opinion. Because he couldn't come to terms with his grief, he couldn't make Piltover pay the way he wanted them too? He justified his own terrible actions for some idea of an independent Zaun for what? For who? Piltover may have taken from him but he actively chose to burn whatever he had left by trying to kill Powder and Vi.

3.) He's the reason Vi and her crew lost their loot, and their lives NOT Powder. He's the reason or at least the means for Singed to create more fucked up abominations and shimmer.

4.) He IS A HUGE SOFTIE he's soft as fuck. He loves and he loves deeply but he could never get over himself to do better. And this is possibly the main reason I hate him, he sincerely loved Vander and Jinx and Felicia and Zaun. People get hurt all the time, and it isn't the same as the trauma he faced but I DON'T think a reasonable series of decisions is to betray everything you are and have worked for to fuck over literally everyone around you. He is the scorched earth method, he wanted to hurt everyone and everything for what he felt and experienced. He's so incredibly selfish I cannot stand him.

5. A close contender, maybe even tied because I love Jinx so much. I hate that he is directly related to all of the hurt Vi and Jinx have experienced. I hate, I loath, I detest what he did to Powder and to Jinx. I feel so fed with season 2 episode 7, we DIRECTLY see what happens when Silco doesn't decide every day to hurt the world around him and hurt everyone in it. What happens to Powder without his fucked up influence.

I never thought anyone made Jinx specifically, like there isn't someone to blame because it felt diminishing to Jinx herself. But I'm rethinking it, I would say with certainty Jinx wouldn't have existed without Silco. I don't give him full credit, not in the creation of her and not her herself but the REASON she was reborn into a different person. Powder and Jinx created Jinx, but she created her because she had to, because Silco brought her into a fucked up world where she had to be different to survive.

Silco didn't support her, he enabled her, made her fear the world, fed her insecurities and projected himself into her. And because he does love, he really really did love her I think, that was what she felt she needed as a TWELVE year old girl. She needed a guardian who had her best interest at heart and not just love. Whatever support she had before, he ripped it from her and shredded it, and from that pile of rubble and ash Jinx had to find herself and emerge. But she picked herself up and chiseled herself into who she is in the series not Silco.

She's smart as a whip, she's so incredibly clever. She knew to some extent the reality of what was happening. But reality didn't have any real gravity anymore for her without something to hold her to it. Silco, at any time, could have stopped what he was doing. He could've seen her hurting and said, this isn't it. This isn't worth it. But he didn't, and she didn't need a reason to change because she had someone who fed her love when she had no one. When she thought it was all her fault and where Silco tried to convince her Vander and Vi weren't good people and that they didn't love her, won't love her.

I could go on, I fucking hate Silco. Once again, I think he's the weakest character emotionally and mentally but certainly not writing wise. He's spineless, he can kill sure, but in the main universe he couldn't get over his own feelings of guilt and hurt to do better. Nobody is satisfied with the slow progression of equity, of freedoms and peace. Silco wanted to take it all violently, take it all and take everything around it down with him.

In another universe, he's better. He makes better decisions because a different set of events led to reconciliation between Vander and him. Because Piltover made the first move of peace after Vi had to be sacrificed. Because Marcus saw a dead Zaun child in the arms of her younger sister. Because a lot of things, Silco is a better man and I think he's stronger for it.

The main universe Silco was wrong about everything he did, he made every possible bad decision on purpose over and over and over again.

The fact that I just wrote what feels like an essay on this bastard should at least show how I hate him, in the way I don't like hate hate him. I hate him in the way good art makes you hate it in just the right way. I think he's interesting enough to think about. I don't hate the alt universe Silco, I just hate the main one. He's multifaceted, he's a villain, he just kind of sucks, he moved the story in permanent ways. He forever changed the world by facilitating the events that led to Jinx as a person in Runeterra.

Anyway Yeah I really really hate Silco. Thanks for reading lol If you have some good points or different interpretations of events with Silco I would genuinely love to read them especially if they are different. I'm the first to admit I don't fully understand all the subtleties in Arcane and I love it for that, but I miss things. Changing my view on what actually happened in scenes is one of my favorite things to do right now. I crave the richer and fuller offering of a closely inspected Arcane provides tbh.

[siriuslylantsov]

drunken confessions

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: you take care of a drunk spencer and inebriated, he happens to let certain things slip.

tags: fluff! alcohol consumption (on spencers part so a little ooc), jealous spencer, confession? sorta, dilaudid briefly mentioned, r and spencer sleep in the same bed.

a/n: idk how much i like this, i had this done and dusted months ago but i hated it and left it in my google docs... anw lmk what you think, happy reading!

wc: 1.9k

spencer reid doesn’t drink, or at least he limits himself to two glasses of wine or a beer. the numbing effect alcohol provides faintly reminds him of dilaudid, and that’s enough to keep him from indulging when he goes out for drinks with the team.

instead, he often plays designated driver, guiding an intoxicated penelope or derek to the passenger seat before taking the wheel himself. he doesn’t mind this role; while he isn’t fond of driving, he enjoys taking care of people, regardless of whether they remember to thank him later. plus, it gives him some incredible blackmail photos of derek passed out—ammunition, for whenever he needs it.

tonight is different though, the team is out for drinks, but you’re with him. scott, jerk, bitch boy, butt face–whatever his name is. you had declined, you never decline, saying that you and scott had plans. and in a desperate attempt to not think about you, he gave in. 

what's in his cup, he's not entirely sure off. penelope had handed it to him earlier, elated that he was joining them, and that he won't taste the alcohol. he stares at the blue fizzy drink in the cup, and although he likes how sweet it is, he could say with certainty that the taste was distinguishable. 

a hand slaps him on the back, “that's gonna give you the worst hangover, pretty boy,” derek says, arm now across spencer’s shoulders. “why’d you let penelope get you that?”

“because,” she interjects out of nowhere at the mention of her name, her own colourful drink in tow, “he doesn't like bitter.” she waves her hand dismissively, “now, leave him alone and go drink your scotch” she says, her face twisted in distaste. 

the two of them waddle off together, leaving spencer victim to his damn thoughts. what are you doing with scott? you should be with your friends instead. this is a time to unload and relax together, not be away with your ratty boyfriend. maybe if he could convince hotch to make these outings essential to team building, you’d be less likely to cancel-

no.

he is not doing this. he needs to not think.

he takes a long sip from his drink, swallowing fast so the taste doesn't linger. he works on it like this, long and fast, until he moves on to his second and third. it doesn't take long for him to get drunk, tolerance being next to nothing. 

-

the bar is dim and loud when you walk in, greeted with a whiff of something too strong when a stranger walks past you. you scan the place, looking for familiar faces. your fingers twitch nervously by your leg, you're not supposed to be here, or atleast thats what you told them. but you couldn't stand the eerie silence of your apartment any longer. your eyes screech to a halt when you spot the back of a head of curls you know oh so well. 

-

“hey.”

you slide into the booth beside him, and he freezes. where did you come from? 

“hi,” he says curtly. suddenly overly aware of himself, he straightens.

“what are you…” you trail off, eyebrows creased in amusement. he's so frigid, almost guilty. your breath catches and you lean in, nostrils flaring slightly, is that gin? you peer at him, confused. “have you been drinking?”

as if on instinct, spencer drags his drink further away from you on the table. your eyes dart down to the half-filled glass you had previously thought was a mocktail, and snap back to his.

“wait, really? you're drinking?” your tone a mix of surprise and concern.

“so what? i can drink, i’m allowed to drink,” he retorts, defensiveness bubbling up. 

taken aback, you look down for a moment, then meet his gaze again, seeing the apology in his eyes. “it's okay. you can do whatever you want. so… how are you feeling?”

a lazy smile creeps up as he leans his head back against the wall, “drunk.”

you chuckle, “it tends to work that way.” you pause, scrutinising him before repeating your question. “how are you feeling?”

your emphasis on the word eats at him, he knows you know why he doesn't drink. you'd been on the team only a year and a half, yet you knew him better than anyone. he concedes, incapable of not giving you what you want.

“good, fine, okay. i'm okay, i’m… okay,” he stammers, as if convincing himself along with you.

a quick flash of apprehension passes through your face, eyebrows momentarily creasing, “yeah?”

“yeah.” 

it's quiet for a minute, as quiet as it can get in a bar blasting 90s hip-hop. you're leaned against the heel of your hand, elbow to the table and body angled his way. he’s fidgeting with his fingers on his lap. you're trying to figure out what's different about tonight, itching to ask him but you don't. he’ll tell you, you hope. letting out a sigh, you cease your analysing.

before he can stop it, he starts speaking again, “so where's scott?” he drags out the ‘t’ sound at the end, words slurring together. 

you briefly tense, but he doesn't notice, circumstances rendering spencer’s profiling abilities inept. “um, he's home.” no he's not.

“didn't you guys have plans?”

“yeah,” you respond shortly.

“so why are you here?”

“plans ended early. i wanted to stop by.”

you hope your answers are enough for spencer, enough to stop the interrogation. you didn't want to tell him that you and scott had broken up, 2 weeks ago. by the way spencer’s attentions drifts to a piece of lint on your shoulder, you conclude that he's content. 

“are you not getting anything?” he asks, referring to your lack of a drink.

“nope, pulling a spencer tonight,” you chirp, he smiles. “want me to take you home? i brought my car.”

your face warms as he nods eagerly, taking a sip from his abandoned cup. you tuck a piece of hair behind his ear, determined to make sure he gets taken care of, and exhale slowly. your eyes glint mischievously, “okay, talk to me, pretty boy. i wanna see how much more unfiltered you get when you're drunk.”

-

the night goes on, you and spencer holed up in the corner, deep in conversation though it's more giggly than normal, very giggly. your teammates pass by the table now and then but get pulled back to the excitement eventually. spencer's expressive hands become languid, aimlessly waving around in the air as he rambles on about whatever comes to mind; the fibonacci sequence, the golden ratio, nautilus shells, speaking of shells, one time a hermit crab pinched me when i picked it up. the fact itself isn't funny but the way he raises both hands to imitate claws is and you start laughing again, and he realises he wants to make you laugh like that for the rest of his life. 

your eyes drift to the clock on the opposite wall, it's something past midnight though it's too far away to tell. you decide to call it. 

“c’mon, let's go.”

“but-” he protests.

“spencer,” you press, softly, “it's late, i wanna take you home.”

he puts up no further protests as he lets you drag him out of the bar, hands laced together, can he even complain when your hand feels like it does in his. you say goodbye to everyone as you leave, penelope pulling you in for a tight hug. the drive to spencer's apartment is fairly silent, the sleepiness taking over. he leans his head against the window, watching the streetlights, you steal a glance at him, smiling to yourself. 

you walk spencer upstairs, reaching your destination. you wait in his living room as he changes into his pyjamas, a matching dark blue set, and tucking him into bed when he's done. you brush a piece of hair away from his face again, his eyes are barely open. pleased with the state he’s in, you feel ready to leave. you begin to walk away when you feel his hand weakly grab onto your pinkie. 

“stay,” he whispers, more a breath than anything, he's afraid you don't hear it.

you don't. “what, baby?”

baby. he repeats himself, louder. “stay.”

“i gotta go home.”

“i want you to stay, it's not fair that he gets to have you all the time,” he slurs, the drowsiness makes him sound a little petulant but you find it endearing. 

“spence-” you lightly tug your finger from his grasp, though it would be easy to pull away, he's hardly holding on.

“no,” he retorts, firmly. “it’s late, you're not driving back this late.”

you contemplate for a moment before letting out a sigh, cementing your place for the night. he lets go and you walk over to his dresser, looking for something to wear. finally, you settle on a t- shirt that seems too big to be owned by him and a pair of shorts with drawstrings that you can adjust to fit you. you change in the adjoined bathroom, the getup has you smelling like him. 

“i hope you don't mind, i took your clothes,” you say, slipping under the covers after turning off the lights. you lay on your back, looking up at the ceiling.

spencer only hums in response as he turns to face you, legs curled up. he feels unbearably close but you know there's a good 2 feet between you two. you listen closely to his breathing, a slow inhale and an even slower exhale, you find yourself trying to sync your breaths with him. you think he’s sleeping, only you're proven wrong when he quietly says your name.

you take this as your sign to turn on your side too, facing him. “yeah?” you respond, maintaining the quiet.

“how come you can stay like this?”

“cause you asked me to.”

“i know i did but you have someone waiting for you at home.”

he waits expectantly, though it wasn't phrased as a question, it felt like one. why didn't you go home?

“we broke up,” you answer, meekly. “a few weeks ago.”

he immediately dreads his curiosity, opening his mouth to apologise but you stop him, “it's ok, i’m fine.”

his eyes search for yours in the darkness. he can’t find them. he settles for holding your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, you squeeze back. 

you're wrapped in silence for the umpteenth time that night, a comfortable weight that settles over you. there's something so impossibly easy being with spencer. the mattress dips as he scoots closer, knees brushing against yours. your thumb glides over his knuckles in slow passes.

“go to sleep,” you say softly, almost a coo. “i'll be here in the morning.”

spencer lets his eyes fall at your reassurance. the haziness drowns out any instinctual hesitation, maybe there's lingering alcohol too, which is why he feels compelled to say it.

“i love you,” he murmurs, a barely there whisper that hangs in the air around you. the words tug at your heartstrings, you feel a little pained by his drunken admission. you know it's anything but platonic when he says it, because he's not one to say it often. you’re silent for a minute, unsure of what to say. does he mean it?

“tell me again when you wake up,” you respond, though you're not sure whether he heard it before he dozed off.

you'll just have to wait.

part 2

reblogs and replies are appreciated! | m.list

[bucketbueckers]

MESS ME UP

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader wc: 6.1k content warnings: language, abuse of italics, grammatically incorrect past tense flashback, smut robbery(?), pretty mature but nothing graphic synopsis: your friends invited you out to a frat party to celebrate the men’s team winning the NCAA tournament where you bump into paige bueckers, the girl who you're in love with and who you ghosted for a month after hooking up with her. a much-needed conversation at the party forces you to revisit difficult memories and give her the closure she’s been seeking. notes: idk what this is! based loosely off of 'friends' and 'mess me up' by chase atlantic. unfortunately the smut robbery line is for real, like it's smut in the way lacroix tastes like real fruit (which is to say it's not smut, but like concepts of smut... 😝 (i've never had lacroix idk if this is accurate)) side note i hate writing in past tense but doing a traditional flashback scene is corny as hell! idk if it matters but this is set april 2024 (w/ a february 2024 flashback); doesn't really affect anything, so... anyway, second post on tumblr, lmk if we're rocking w it 🙂‍↕️

For the record, you didn’t want to come to this party.

It’s hot, sweaty, loud, and all you can smell is the same brand of men’s cologne and weed. The air is both stale and somehow feels wet and all you can think about is getting back to your apartment so you can shower and go to bed. You had a mock trial bright and early the next morning and your law professor was a stickler for punctuality and presentability – showing up with wrinkled clothes and smelling like a frat party was a sure-fire way to fail, and you had too much riding on your grades to let that happen.

The frat (whose name you’ve already forgotten) was celebrating the NCAA tournament win for the UCONN men’s basketball team. They’d apparently gone back to back, which you guess is cool, but you swore off basketball a long time ago. If you had your way, you’d be at home, three steps into your skincare routine, but you let peer pressure get the best of you and allowed your friends to drag you out.

It’d be fun, they said. You never come out with us! You’re spending all this tuition money and you’re not even taking advantage of it. How can you say you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it?

You only remember that your friends are law students, too, in the most unfortunate of moments when they put their persuasiveness to the test. In the most unfortunate of moments, you’re also reminded of the fact that they’re college students, too, because they’re leaving you at the door and rushing off to find something to drink. You weren’t upset they dragged you out. Not necessarily. You were grown enough to say no. Perhaps you’d simply set your expectations too high when they begged you to come out and you thought they would spend at least a little bit of time with you before doing their own thing. But sure. It’s whatever.

So, here you are – standing alone in the corner of a frat party, watching as drunk college students grind against each other, laugh, and have a good time. A part of you feels like you’re missing out, but as you watch somebody throw up into a plant, you feel like you’re just fine where you are.

You’re drawn from your thoughts when a man wearing a backwards cap suddenly shows up next to you. “Yo, you thirsty?” he yells over the music, thrusting a red solo cup into your empty hands. You don’t have the time to say anything to him before he’s grinning at you, eyes red and hooded. “Come dance with me. You’re too pretty to be standin’ here all alone.”

You hear her before you see her.

“She’s good, bro, trust,” Paige interrupts smoothly, throwing a casual arm around your shoulders. You feel too much like a damsel in distress, but sensing the gravity of the situation, you flash the guy a light smile and lean into Paige slightly. Her grip tightens. You try to not let it bother you.

He raises his hands, surrendering. “My bad. You got it.”

Paige hums, unconvinced, as he leaves. When he’s out of your sight, you wrench yourself out of her grip. “Thank you, but not necessary,” you tell her sharply, red solo cup still in your hand. If this was how your night was going to go, then you need to be a little tipsy to survive it. You barely have it halfway to your mouth before Paige is pulling it out of your grasp, pouring its contents into a potted plant and chucking the cup into a nearby trash can. “What the fu–”

“First of all,” she begins, arms crossing protectively, “never accept a drink at a party that you didn’t pour, didn’t see someone else pour, or a drink that’s already open; matter fact, don’t accept a drink unless you opened it or brought it in yourself.”

You roll your eyes slightly. “This is Storrs, Paige. Do the frats really get down like that here?”

Her gaze is unimpressed. “You’re the law student, ma, you tell me the numbers. Second of all, you’re welcome. That was Kylin. He doesn’t take no for an answer in the first place but he’s all kinds of fucked up right now. I’d say I did you a favor but I wanted to talk to you, anyway.”

“Funny,” you deadpan. “Here? Now?”

“What are you doing here?” she asks you, ignoring your snippy words. “Thought this wasn’t your scene.”

You pause. “It’s not,” you confirm. “Jos and Chelsea wanted me to come out. Figured I should be a good friend once in a while.”

Paige raises a brow. “Jos and Chelsea are too busy playing strip poker with dudes from Kappa Phi to keep an eye on you, and you’re worried about having to be a good friend?”

“First of all,” you say in the know-it-all tone that Paige had used on you, “I don’t need them to keep an eye on me.” The blonde hums again, not entirely convinced, and the heat of her gaze makes you stumble over your words slightly. “Second of all, why do you even care?”

“We’re friends,” she states.

“We were once,” you correct, voice softening. It’s no secret that you and Paige had fucked up whatever you had going on. It’s never been clear whose fault your fallout was (it was yours), nor could the two of you ever agree on what destroyed you (you would argue that you shouldn’t hook up with your friends, especially not the ones you were in love with). It was a messy situation that you were sure the two of you couldn’t recover from (you didn’t want to be friends with someone you couldn’t have; Paige just wants you to give her the chance to prove you otherwise).

“Sure,” she agrees half-heartedly, knowing your spiel by heart now. “Kinda fucked up you think I need a reason to care.” You don’t dignify that with a proper response, feeling something strangely like guilt corroding your heart. “Come outside and get some air with me? Please? Just wanna talk, no funny shit, I promise.”

You sigh, feeling yourself fall back into all too familiar routines. You had a near inability to say no to Paige most times – it was the reason why you had to put a stop to your friendship. And here you are now, undoing all of the progress you’ve made since you’ve been apart (a small part of you knows better; you’re moving forward but you’re not really doing any better. You’re not progressing. You’re just stuck now, only this time, you have less than you did before). “Jos and Chelsea–”

“–made their choice,” she finishes for you. “And their choice was strip poker with a guy named Anthony,” she adds solemnly. You can’t help but quirk a smile at the absurdity of your life right now. “C’mon, please? It fucking reeks in here. They’ve got a porch swing outside and it’s all quiet and shit.”

“You’ve always had a way with words,” you tease.

“You comin’ or nah?” she asks, but you shove her forward (she lets you) and she leads you through the crowd to the door. They part like the Red Sea and you can’t help but admire the way she silently commands the room, feeling a flutter in your chest you try desperately to stomp out. It’s like a fire; all it takes is a small spark before it eventually grows out of proportion. You know better now.

The door shuts behind the two of you and you sit on the porch swing. You can still hear the music’s pounding bass, but it’s muted. You feel like you can hear your thoughts now. The tension in your shoulders eases as you take in the crisp night air, the crickets’ chirps, the occasional owl’s hoot. For a moment, you forget all of the complicated history between you and Paige; the way she held your hand as she kissed up your thigh, the way she stayed afterwards, cleaning you up and bringing you water. It almost seems as Paige is reliving all of it, too, as she looks at you, and that thought is sobering enough to bring you back to the moment.

You finally get a good look at what she’s wearing. It’s nothing outstanding; a gray Nike tech suit and a pair of dunks, although she’s opted to leave her jacket unzipped, revealing the crop top underneath. She’s dressed for comfort, though the most unfair part of it all is how good she looks when she’s not trying. Her cheekbones are sharp, eyes blue and wide and alert, and you can’t help but notice how fitting a slick-back bun is on her.

This was precisely why you needed your space. You couldn’t control your thoughts or feelings. It was manageable when you minded your business – the phrase out of sight, out of mind did wonders for you and you were usually busy enough that she only crossed your mind once or twice a week when the student population was buzzing about a recent game. But now? Now you’re fucked. You’re inches away from her and you’ve allowed her to pull you back into her orbit. She’s the Earth and you’re a meteor – any closer and you won’t be able to come back from the damage you would do to each other. She would survive, you’re sure, but you’d be destroyed in the process.

“So,” she says slowly. You avert your eyes, staring at anything but her. “How you been?”

“Good,” you lie. “Keeping busy.” That part was less of a lie, but it wasn’t her business to know.

Paige has always been good at reading you, so she gazes at you like she’s not convinced. “I think we’re overdue a conversation,” she says, surprising you. “A real one. No more of this running in circles bullshit.”

“Okay,” you agree hesitantly. You finally meet her eyes. They’re strikingly blue, disarming, and you feel an odd mixture of guilt and longing eat away at your insides. She looks like she’s drinking you in, like she’s trying to understand why you did what you did; her eyes soften in the dim glow of the porchlight and you can’t help but flush under her gaze. She always understands you in spite of how often you push her away – she seems to understand why you keep her at arm’s length, too, and it’s then that you fully understand how overwhelming it is to be known.

“Why did you leave?” she asks finally. You have to swallow back the bile in your throat. “The morning after.” Her clarification does nothing to soothe the turmoil in your stomach. “I thought…” Paige’s throat bobs as she tries to find the words. “It wasn’t a hook up. It meant something to me – everything to me. So why did you leave like that shit ain’t matter to you?”

That night in February comes back to you in the blur of a memory. You’ve thought about it so often that you could write a play-by-play of it; every single unremarkable detail comes back to you in a flourish of vibrant color – the way the floor felt beneath your feet as Paige guided you into her room, the slight scratch of her nail against the base of your neck as her hands found purchase in your hair. Paige was wrong. It meant something to you, too much to you. You often remind yourself, if it meant that much, why was it easier to run away? Jumping off of a diving board into a pool conceptually means the same thing as jumping off of a cliffside into beach waves; the jump isn’t the hard part, it’s the reminder of the distance between your feet and the surface. Your feelings for Paige are too consuming. It’s easier to not make the jump at all than it is to worry if you’ll be able to come up for air.

She was in high spirits, drunk off of their win against Villanova. They weren’t an opponent you’d typically call home for, but the Huskies were having a tough season with several injured players and a lot of underclassmen. It was close, 67-46; Paige had contributed to a little less than half of their points overall with a solid 31. She was happy, the rest of her team was happy, and she’d begged you to come over to her apartment for the post-game festivities – which was usually games and snacks as they weren’t big on drinking during the season. You’d nearly refused at first. It was supposed to be a small team get-together and you had some work to catch up on. You eventually gave in, like you always do. Paige had flashed her typical, charming smile, looping an arm around your waist, and you were a goner.

The team accepted you like you were one of their own, too. That was new. You didn’t spend as much time with them as you did with Jos and Chelsea, but it felt like you knew them better than you knew Jos and Chelsea, anyway. Ice and KK were two menacing peas in a pod – they were like sisters separated at birth and whenever they were together, something chaotic was bound to happen, but they loved and protected fiercely despite the way they teased each other and the team. Caroline was like the team mother and many of the girls called her such. Nika was intense on the court, but off of it, she was Paige’s twin through and through – they always had something to say to each other and their banter often brought smiles to everyone’s faces. Azzi was sweet and well-loved by the team (and the student population in general). She introduced you to her and Paige’s son Ines, which confused you at first, but Paige threw her arm over your shoulder and assured you that they’re only co-parenting because Carol has enough children and they didn’t want Ines to be a ward of the court. You couldn’t help but smile at that, leaning into Paige – something about the team’s dynamic healed you a little, and Ines joked that Paige went out and got her a stepmom.

You felt the blush creep up your neck as Paige tightened her grip around you slightly. “I didn’t want you to find out like this, son,” Paige had said somberly, pretending to look sad as Azzi rolled her eyes. “Your mother was havin’ an affair–”

“Oh, bullshit!” Azzi cried. The entire room broke out into fits of giggles.

“Now I understand why Paige wifed up a lawyer,” KK said in between laughter. “Tryna get a discount on that divorce, huh?”

The team had tears in their eyes from their excitement – you didn’t have the heart to tell them you were hoping to specialize in civil litigation, so you just laughed along. The conversation continued to flow as games were played. Nika was exceptionally bad at UNO and Paige never let her hear the end of it. You guys only managed to play a couple of rounds before Nika suddenly got good and played a +4, prompting Ice and KK to stack +4s of their own onto it – Paige stared in disbelief for a solid thirty seconds before picking up 12 cards and rage-quitting one turn later when KK skipped her.

“There, there,” you’d said, lips trembling as you tried not to laugh at the look on Paige’s face. You rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, and she pushed you off her gently, her own lips quirking in amusement. “Show this card game who’s boss.”

“Bro,” she grumbled, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she leaned back into the couch, her arm finding home over the back of your shoulders once more. You remember wondering if this is what normal felt like, what finally finding a community was like – you fit in too well with Paige’s teammates and they made you feel at home. Being near Paige made you feel at home. She was talented that way. She had an uncanny ability to make people feel at ease, regaling them with jokes and an endless supply of charm. When you realized you were in love with Paige Bueckers, you weren’t surprised about it. If anything, you might have been a little upset with yourself – you were sure you weren’t the only person she’d drawn in unintentionally, ensnared in a web whose latticework was meticulously shaped like basketball netting.

As the night went on, more and more laughs were shared until the clock reached midnight and many of Paige’s teammates got up to leave. Everyone shared hugs and affectionate goodnights. All of them even looped around to hug you – which was… nice. Paige shared her apartment with Azzi and Aubrey, so they retired to their own rooms after curious glances to you and Paige, still curled up together on the couch.

The apartment was quiet. You could hear the ring of silence as it enveloped the two of you, Paige’s gentle breathing, and the tick of the clock. It was oddly comforting; normally, it would have lulled you into a drowsy state, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the heat of Paige’s body next to yours, the brush of her thumb against your shoulder. Feeling both unmoored and tethered, you shift next to Paige, gathering her attention. “I should go,” you’d whispered. Her thumb halted.

“Stay,” she requested. She tilted her head. Her gaze met yours. You expected her eyes to be half-closed, dim with sleep. The rasp of her voice was attributed to a tone you knew she’d adopt when she was exhausted, but her eyes were wide, alert, dilated, a blue so dark you were sure you almost mistook the sheer want for something else. “Stay,” she murmured again. “Please.”

“Yeah,” you agreed almost breathlessly, feeling her hand squeeze your shoulder gently. “Sure.” She untangles from you and stands from the couch, offering you her hand, and you take it. She led you seamlessly through the dark of her apartment into her bedroom, where she released you long enough to rifle through her drawers, having found you a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt for you to wear to bed. Paige pointed you towards the bathroom. You changed into her clothes. Your fingers had shook with anticipation at the sheer domesticity of it all as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your – her – t-shirt read HOPKINS GIRLS BASKETBALL. It had all felt so different now. You hadn’t been sure at the moment if it terrified you or excited you.

You exited the bathroom to find Paige’s back to you, adjusting the band of a pair of basketball shorts around her hips. Her hair was out of her bun and it cascaded down her back in loose, wavy strands; you’d felt an inexplicable urge to run your fingers through it, to find out if her hair was as soft as it looked. She was wearing a dark black sports bra. The two of you were friends. Granted, you were in love with her, but the sight of her wearing nothing but ball shorts and her Nike bra shouldn’t have done the things it did to you.

“Which side is yours?” you’d asked, mostly to break the silence. You ignored the crack in your voice. Paige paid it no mind as she turned, which forced you to avert your eyes, trying not to glance at her abdominals.

“Don’t matter,” she responded. You watched the way she moved, sitting low on the bed, legs long and stark against the purple of her comfort. “You gettin’ in or what?” You hoped she couldn’t see the flush on your neck. You slid into bed next to her, hoping to maintain some sort of distance, but she refused to let you get too far. She slung her arm over your waist, fingers brushing against your skin where your shirt rode up. Her breath was even against your neck and the heat of her body nearly turned your brain into mush. “This okay?” she asked, tone softer.

“Mhm,” you hummed, afraid to speak or you might fuck up and tell her just how okay it actually was. Paige was just a touchy person, you tried to remind yourself as you felt the tickle of her hair against the nape of your neck. This doesn’t mean anything to her. It was all for naught. It did little to quell the way your heart raced, the way the heat pooled low in your belly.

“You looked good tonight,” she said casually. You tried to stop the goosebumps as they rose on your flesh. “You always do.”

Unable to think of something smart to say, you shifted your body slightly, your fingers splaying over the arm she held tight around your midsection. “Oh, yeah?” Her fingers brushed a little lower on your stomach, grazing the waistband of your shorts.

She hummed an affirmative, pulling you tighter against herself, and you could barely breathe. It was overwhelming in the best way – she was all around you. Physically, you felt as though you were in her skin as she greedily pulled you in. The scent of her was everywhere; the shampoo that seeped into her pillows, the cologne on her neck. Your hair stood on end as her lips brushed almost imperceptibly against the shell of your ear. “‘M glad you came tonight,” she whispered.

You flipped on your side, face-to-face with Paige. Her arm moved enough for you to get situated and once you were, her hand found the small of your back, her palm warm against your skin. You can’t help the way your breath hitched, even as Paige’s eyes seemed to take in the stuttering rise and fall of your chest. Having found some courage, you poked her cheek, drawing her eyes back up to yours. “What are we doing?” you asked finally, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. Her brow raised slightly, the dark blue of her gaze illuminated by the streaks of moonlight through her window. “No funny shit, Paige. You touch me like you want me, claim me in front of your friends.” You searched her eyes as she fell silent. “What are we doing?” you repeated, voice firmer.

“I want you,” she confessed after a few heartbeats of contemplation. She leaned in closer to you, your noses nearly brushing, and she continued, “I want you so fucking bad. Don’t wanna do anything you’ont want, but–”

Your lips were on hers before she had the chance to finish. She responded eagerly, one hand firm around your waist as she flipped the both of you over, pulling you to straddle her waist. You leaned down, your chest against hers, hands on each side of her neck. You felt the thundering of her pulse under your fingers. It was stabilizing in a sense – words were one thing, but to feel how badly you’d been able to affect her, too, did wonders for your growing ego. Paige’s hands had found your hips, keeping you pressed against her body.

You parted briefly to catch your breath. Paige’s chest heaved, her lips shiny and swollen. She was hard to look away from. For a moment, you’d wondered if this was worth it. Your heart had raced, beating uncontrollably; it felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Everything would change between the two of you. Was one night with Paige worth the risk of losing your friendship? You feel too strongly, too much, overwhelmingly. You’ve been told by an ex or two that you were simply too much. You wouldn’t want to subject Paige to that.

Her right hand met your face, tracing the line of your bottom lip. “You want this?” she asked. Her eyes were blown wide, more pupil than iris, but something about it entranced you. The desire in her eyes had brought fresh heat to your stomach, but coupled with the fact she’d be willing to stop made your heart beat a little faster. She was enough to quell your worries, settling the irregularity of your thoughts. You nodded, leaning down to connect your lips again, but her hand was insistent against your jaw as she held you back. “Words,” she commanded.

You’d barely resisted an eyeroll. “Yes, Paige,” you affirmed. Her hand loosened, eyes searching yours. “Want you.”

Her smile turned smug. “Yeah? How bad?”

The tease sent white-hot desire straight through your body as your hips rolled against hers, trying to find some relief. Her hands fall back down to your waist, helping you rut against her thigh as a shared flush creeped up both of your necks. “You gonna touch me?” you breathed against her lips. Her breath came out a disjointed stutter when you guided her hand to the swell of your ass. It was unnatural – Paige was so sure, so confident. To have her nearly at your mercy was like a drug through your veins, but you didn’t want her there. You wanted Paige fully in control; you wanted her to take care of you, to give you everything you’d fantasized about for months on end. You wanted her so bad it rewired the coding in your brain. There was something about her that broke down all of the walls you spent years building.

Your actions and words had been the only permission she needed. One of her hands gripped the flesh of your ass as the other one cupped the back of your neck. Her nail scratched you inadvertently as she dragged you back down to connect your lips – the slight echo of pain caused you to whine against her lips, a sound she swallowed greedily before she flipped the two of you over once more. Your head fell back against her pillows as she rucked up your shirt, finding that you’d opted to not wear a bra. She groaned indulgently, one large hand coming up to squeeze one of your breasts and her mouth finding the other one.

You ran your fingers through her hair, gripping it tight as she lavished you with attention. “So fuckin’ pretty,” she murmured against you, voice dripping with want. She pressed her knee against your core as she found her way back to your lips, kissing you deeply and drawing another whimper from your parted lips. It sent a jolt through your body. “You gon’ let me do what I want, huh? Get you right?”

“Paige, please,” you begged, all of the shame having left your body as you ground down against her knee, feeling the pleasure and relief simultaneously. “Fuck, do what you want, I don’t care – just please fucking touch me.”

She shushed you, lips back on yours, tongue brushing against your lips like she was trying to take whatever you’d give her. And at that point, you would have given her anything if it meant she’d stop teasing you. “I got you, ma, jus’ relax,” she whispered against your lips. She trailed a blazing path down your chest, leaving hickies as she went. Paige reached the waistband of your shorts; she pressed a sloppy kiss to your navel before bunching her fingers in and pulling them off, throwing them haphazardly into the room.

The air was cold against you. You were breathing heavily by then, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. Her hand untwisted yours from the bedsheets, linking your fingers together, and that touch alone was enough to bring you back down to earth. “I got you,” she promised again, reminding you, pressing diligent kisses against the inside of your thigh. You relaxed ever so slightly against her, feeling as though you could breathe a little easier, but your body was still incredibly high strung. Paige squeezed your hand. Then her mouth was on you, and you were done for.

She held your hand as she went down on you, talking you through it until your orgasm reached its peak and you sunk into the bed bonelessly. She didn’t release you when she came back up, her smile a mix of smugness, pride, and quiet adoration. Paige kissed your knuckles, your cheeks, your lips, drawing a contented sigh out of you. “You good?” she asked, brushing your hair out of your eyes, hand cradling your jaw.

Exhausted, all you could do was hum an affirmative. Paige flashed a small smile again, pressing a kiss to your forehead and crawling off the bed, much to your surprise. “Lemme get you some water,” she said. “‘M coming right back, I promise.”

You nodded wordlessly, closing your eyes and sinking back into the pillows as your breathing evens out. She left her room, the door shutting with a silent click. In the silence of Paige’s bedroom, curled up in her purple comforter, all you can think about is how the future of your friendship has inexplicably changed forever. She said she wanted you. Did she just mean sexually? Paige was always intentional in her communication, a byproduct of her media training. Tears brimmed your eyes when you considered the idea that you might have just been another Wednesday night fling for her. Here you are again, feeling stupid about the overwhelming feelings you harbored for Paige despite your better judgment. The worst part was that it wasn’t her fault. You got your hopes up.

You wiped your eyes when you heard the door open again. Paige crossed the room, cracking open a cold bottle of water for you and pressing it to your lips. You nearly forgot about your inner turmoil when she smiled at you again, having thrown her hair back up into its bun. “Gonna clean you up, okay?” she informed you. At your nod, she runs a warm washcloth between your thighs, getting rid of the lingering stickiness. She carefully redressed you, squeezing your hips gently, and you’re left feeling so incredibly conflicted that you’re breathless with the anxiety. Paige disposed of the washcloth and curled up next to you in bed once more, an arm wrapping around your midsection. You’d told each other goodnight, but as her breath evens out against your neck, your mind races.

You slept fitfully through the night. And when morning light rolled around, you extracted yourself from Paige’s grip, sliding a pillow into her arms. The nervousness and all of your overthinking thoughts made you queasy with grief. You were in love with Paige Bueckers. That much was true. You were too head over heels for her to return to normalcy; you couldn’t. At that point, it would be easier for you to not be friends with her at all than to pretend like she wasn’t everything you’d ever wanted.

As she slept, you casted one last guilty look over your shoulder and you ran.

But that night in February has long since passed, and on the porch swing on a much warmer night in April, Paige stares at you in desperation, seeking answers to the questions you’ve withheld for over a month. “Why did you leave?” she asks you again. “Fuck, tell me the truth, lie to me, whatever, just please give me something to work with.”

“It was overwhelming,” you finally admit, twisting the rings on your fingers. You feel terrible as you glance at Paige, whose eyes soften when she takes in your expression.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shoulda seen that something was wrong.”

You close your eyes, lips trembling. You’re touched at how she instantly takes responsibility for your fuck ups, thinking she’s done something wrong. “No, Paige,” you correct her. “Fuck. It wasn’t you. It was never you.” You pick at a loose string on your shorts. She stares at you, waiting for you to continue. “You were so gentle. That night meant everything to me, and that was the problem. I wanted you so bad – Jesus Christ, I was in love with you for months. I don’t do casual. I always feel too strongly and I loved you so much that it was fucking overwhelming. I woke up and nearly lost it because I couldn’t handle the idea of having you like that and having to pretend like I didn’t want you like that forever. It was so much easier to run and not face the possibility of having to be your friend when all I’ve wanted was more.”

When you finally look back to Paige, her eyes are wide with something that looks strangely like grief, like you’ve pulled the rug from under her feet and watched as she fell. As you think about it, that’s probably what you’ve done, anyway. She spent so long thinking that your fallout was her fault, that it was something she’d done, but the ugly truth of the matter was that you were too scared of the way you felt for her that you ran from it instead. Paige runs a frustrated hand over her jaw, her expression nearly unreadable. You frown. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly, knowing that your apology is long overdue. You fucked up so incredibly bad with her. Your brain remembers her prior words, the ‘It wasn’t a hook up. It meant something to me – everything to me,’ and you suddenly feel like an idiot. God, it was mutual this entire time and you were too caught up in yourself to realize it.

“You think too fucking much,” Paige says finally, and you hardly have the time to react before she’s kissing you, her hands gripping your hips. You nearly gasp against her lips before you fully register what’s happening. Sinking into it, you wrap your arms around her neck, feeling suddenly like everything is finally aligning, that all of your blurred focal points sharpen. When she pulls away, her eyes are alight with understanding. “So, lemme get this straight. You pushed me away ‘cause you’re in love with me, then we fucked, and you thought I wouldn’t wife you up?”

You frown, feeling stupid all over again. “Well, when you put it like that…yeah?”

Paige sighs. “Fuck. Look at my lawyer – you’d send dudes to jail left and fucking right ‘cause you jump to conclusions too early. Thank God you’re not going into criminal defense.”

You shove her away from you, feeling the embarrassment bloom on your cheeks. You can’t help but laugh as you say, “You’re an asshole.”

She guffaws, reaching for your hands, intertwining your fingers. “Says you! You ghosted me for a month and let me think I fucked us up. Jesus Christ.” She twists the ring on your finger mindlessly as she searches for the right words. “Okay, lemme be really fucking clear. I’m in love with you, too. Like, I’m fuckin’ crazy about you. There is nobody but you. You aren’t too much for me – I love you for you, no ifs, ands, buts, whys, hows, nothing. I know you thought you were protecting us by pushin’ me away, but you gotta let me make that choice, too. I want this with you, alright? Will you gimme that chance?”

Her words leave the two of you in silence. You can still hear the chirp of the crickets, the thrumming from the party indoors. You can feel the way her thumb brushes over your knuckles, the way her eyes bore into yours, patiently waiting for your decision. But distinctly, you can see the plea, the desperation for you to just give into what she knows the both of you are feeling. Your anxiety and constant overthinking never ruined the two of you. It may have set you back, but you and Paige found your way back to each other. Maybe you’re not a meteor, dangerously crashing into her and disintegrating on impact. Maybe the two of you are something simpler – the moon and the tide. She was never going to let you get hurt if only you’d give her the opportunity to show you that.

So, you take that leap – whether it’s off the diving board into the pool or the cliffside into beach waves, you don’t care. You know now that Paige is waiting for you at the surface. “I want this, too,” you affirm, watching the smile bloom on her face like springtime flowers, and you seal the deal by pressing your lips to hers. She responds eagerly, her arms tight around you. You loathe that it took the two of you this long, that it was your fault for not trusting Paige with your heart when she’s given you no real reason to doubt her; despite this, her lips taste like forgiveness and yours like atonement. In spite of everything, you made it here in the end, and it was worth it.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Saw your post for dirty reqs, what if eddie’s gf has a boring job at some kinda front desk. Eddie could come to see her and eat her out while a customer comes in or have her ride his lap while she has to answer a work call… just a thought :)

cw: oral (f receiving) exhibitionism

Another hour went by as you watched the clock on your computer. Business was slow as usual and you tried your best to keep yourself awake, the boredom getting to you. You had been texting your boyfriend Eddie in between customers and he had tried his best to keep you company, sending you nothing but filthy messages that warmed your cheeks.

Bet I could make you come right there with your boss in the other room

And that was one of tame messages. If you were being honest, the idea sounded intriguing. One, because you had been needing him all day. And two, because you had hated working there anyway and looking for a reason to either quit or get fired.

I need you, you responded and within ten minutes, he was at the door, striding in like he owned the place. He looked around the store to make sure that you were alone then made a beeline for your desk.

You had expected him to show up, but not that quickly. He lived at least twenty minutes from the shop so you assumed that he had been close by. He always seemed to be when you were working. The area wasn't exactly the safest so he just wanted to be sure that you were safe. And maybe he just liked the visit you sometimes to keep you company.

He leaned over it, a devilish smirk playing on his lips as he got closer, his lips ghosting over yours. He then captured them on a hot, searing kiss and you tried your best to keep quiet, but an involuntary moan fell from your lips. Eddie pulled away and rounded the desk, taking you into his arms as his tongue dipped into your mouth, wanting to taste every single inch of it.

"Fuck," he moaned against your lips. "Need to taste."

"You are tasting me, Eddie," you reminded him with a laugh.

"Not the part I want to be tasting, love," he smiled as he pulled the chair behind him closer. "Have a seat."

You quickly sat in the chair and Eddie got down on his knees, so grateful that you were wearing a skirt. He pulled the chair with him as he moved underneath the desk so that he was out of sight. Once he was under the desk, he sat up as best he could, spreading your legs and putting his head between them, his mouth latching onto your underwear as he licked and sucked on the fabric, trying to taste the slick that had leaked into it.

You were so wet and hearing your gasps made him so hard as thought about the two of you possibly getting caught. He always loved the thrill, loving the idea of someone catching you in the act, especially your boss who always seemed to come out at the worst moments.

You had done things like this more times that you could count, and you knew that it was wrong, but you couldn't help it. Eddie just had a grip on you that you couldn't explain. You would have done whatever he asked just because he was the one who was asking.

He'd flash you those chocolate brown eyes and you'd melt, automatically agreeing to what he wanted because that was just the effect he had on you. And you loved it. That he bossed you around told you what to do.

Eddie was making sure to take his time to make you beg for it, to make you whine just like always and it always got him off and for once this was all he was going to do. He was just going to eat you out, licking and sucking up every last bit of slick from your cunt until you were crying for him.

As soon as your whining began, Eddie grabbed onto the waist band of your underwear with his teeth and pulled it down quickly, putting them in his back pocket once he was done then immediately going in for your cunt, not being shy with his teeth.

But as soon as you were getting into it, your fingers threading through his hair, the front door opened, the bell jingling above the door to signify that someone had come in. You almost told Eddie to stop so you could greet the customer that was approaching the desk, but it just felt so good that you couldn't.

"H-hey," you greeted, putting a wide smile on your face as they approached the front desk where you were sitting. "How can I help you?" You asked and the customer told you that they were there for an appointment and you tried your best to look them up on the computer as Eddie's mouth moved to your clit, sucking on it so hard that you felt a moan at the back of your throat that you tried your best to hide by clearing your throat.

As soon as the tattoo artist the client had booked with had come to collect them and you made sure that they were actually in the designated room, Eddie went back in with his teeth, letting them slide against your cunt and you threw your head back against the chair, a loud moan falling from your lips and you had to cover your mouth so you wouldn't be heard.

"That's it, baby," Eddie urged with a smiled. "Just like that. Gonna scream for me? Want everyone to know how good I can make you feel." He then went back in, his tongue finding his way inside you and that set you off, a loud almost scream escaping your mouth and just when his tongue hit the right spot, it was a full on scream that you had to hide by covering your mouth once again.

Once you had come down from your orgasm, Eddie removed himself from you and you moved so he could get out from underneath the desk. He wiped your slick from his face with the bottom of his shirt before pressing his lips to yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth to give you a taste of yourself.

"See how good you taste, baby?" he asked with a whine before he pulled away. "I'll see you tonight, alright? Maybe in the back of my van and we can pick up where we left off?"

"S-sounds good," you stuttered with a nod and watched your boyfriend exit your place of work, wondering how you hadn't gotten fired or arrested for what you had just done.

[sleepingdeath-light]

yandere hcs ; shadow milk cookie

requested by ; anonymous (04/09/24)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; shadow milk cookie

outline ; “Ahem… Shadow Milk Cookie Yandere HC’s?? *slides you a 20* (I’m 20 yrs old btw)”

warning(s) ; yandere!shadow milk cookie, potentially ooc!shadow milk cookie at points, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, stalking, kidnapping, physical abuse, psychological abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, heavily implied murder, just a really toxic and abusive dynamic overall (duh lol)

on the surface it’s quite difficult to tell the difference between shadow milk cookie’s behaviour as a lover normally and how he acts as a yandere… at least as long as you do as you’re told and don’t try and disobey him — and that’s pretty much entirely down to the fact that he’s the beast of deceit; lying and acting come as easily to him as breathing so he’s very good at either hiding the darker sides of himself from you, or at convincing you that the red flags and abusive behaviours that you do notice are either fabrications of your mind or completely deserved because of some slight you committed against him

he’s also very intentional about how he gets you under his thumb, treating the whole thing like an elaborate play where he ensures that everyone plays their part — he’ll stalk you religiously for weeks, make sure you never see him but that you know you’re being followed so that your mental stability declines, go out of his way to manipulate your relationships with your loved ones so they break down (or that they’re not around to care about you anymore) and you’re left completely isolated, and then, once he’s certain that you’re suitably vulnerable for his needs he’ll simply swoop in and take you back to his realm where nobody will be able to find you

(and where he can get rid of anyone who does without having to leave you alone for too long)

he tests you a lot, dangling the promise of freedom in front of your face just long enough for you to regain some semblance of hope only to snatch it away and punish you for daring to even think about betraying your husband — and his punishments are always incredibly disproportionate to whatever infraction you committed against him (e.g. your eyes lighting up a bit too much at the mention of something/someone from your old life for his tastes is met with a period of isolation so gruelling you’ll end up hallucinating and begging for his company, while an actual attempt to escape — even if wholly unsuccessful — is followed by a staged fight with the monsters dwelling in his domain that leaves you so broken and battered that you’ll be wholly reliant on him to be able to move for the next few weeks)

he claims that he hates these punishments just as much as you do, but the sadistic glee in his eyes when he’s enacting them and the smug grin on his face when you finally relent say otherwise

shadow milk cookie is extremely possessive — hence his very thorough method of isolating you from your larger social circle before he took you — and, as such, anytime he gets the slightest inkling that you might have at some point had feelings for someone else (be that a fleeting consideration that a stranger was attractive or an actual fully fledged past relationship) then he makes quick work of dragging them back to his domain and letting them know that you’re taken

he never elaborates on what that means, but based on all of the screams you hear when he brings someone new ‘home’ you decide that you’re better off just living in ignorance

he likes to talk to you, loves the sound of your voice more than his own, and could happily spend days at a time just chatting with you (or, as it happens for most of the earlier months of your ‘relationship’, at you) — but for as vocal as he is, sometimes he’ll just sit/float in the same room as you and just stare at you with that damned smile on his face

just following your every movement with visible hearts in his eyes — letting out the occasional dreamy sigh or humming along to a tune you couldn’t even hope to guess as he observes you like you’re some sort of exotic pet — and if he wasn’t literally holding you captive, if he were literally anyone else, you might have even gone so far as to call him cute for it

his ultimate goal is to break you and make you love him, and he makes good use of his magic and his talent for lying to do that — he convinces you that everyone you knew actually despises you and that nobody has even tried to search for you after you disappeared, he conjurs up illusions of your loved ones insulting and belittling and mocking you that infect your dreams and begin to twist your memories to match his assertions as more time passes in his realm, he oscillates between ignoring and isolating you and showering you with affection and attention to make you crave his presence and company more than you loathe him for kidnapping you, and he gets into your head enough to wholeheartedly convince you that every punishment he inflicts is for your own good

he’s manipulative as fuck and cruel as all hell, but eventually it starts to work and you begin to develop a sort of stockholm syndrome for your captor

it may take months or years or even decades if you’re especially stubborn, but you’re still only human and he’s willing to wait however long he needs to in order to see you break

after all, shadow milk cookie spent eons trapped in that damned tree waiting for his freedom so he can wait even longer for the love of his life

how disgustingly obsessive

how terribly romantic of him

[mindless-existence1]

More sfw Mha boyfriend headcanons

Authors note: Kinda a part 2 but does relate to the other one at all. My friend helped me with the Ida stuff so thanks pookie. Also this is kinda an in-between fic just so then I can keep myself motivated to write the requests I have

Contents: I think like one curse word

Pt1

Mha Masterlist

My Masterlist

Includes: Bakugo, Denki, Ida, and Tokoyami

Ida would schedule times to hang out with you when he's free. Not because he like hates you or smth but he just has a very set schedule he likes to stick to. If you want to hang out outside of the set time then most likely it'll turn into a study date.

Denki is a yapper and he often yaps about you. His poor friends have to deal with him mentioning you constantly. Something completely random comes up and he's going "Oh I remember y/n was talking about that one time, speaking of them..." he's a simple man you loves his partner.

Tokoyami is a drawer I feel. He'd have a sketch book/journal he carries around for sure. In a not creepy way he'd draw yiu a lot. Like a muse kind of way. He'd never show you butbthen you find it and he has to explain how he just finds you so perfect and then after that he shows you his drawings.

Bakugo would definitely not even realize how in love with you he is untill kirishima or someone mentions it and then he's noticing how different he acts with you. Have him tied around you damn finger.

Ida definitely wakes up hella early to exercise and specifically run (obviously). He'll try to get you to wake up early to but often times he wants to wake up way to early. You just kiss him goodbye most mornings and fall promptly back to sleep.

Tokoyami is a poet I bet. Or at least a song writer which is basically the same thing. His muse? You. In his journel/sketch book he has poems along with the drawings. Another thing he's probably embarrassed about bit high key he's just in love. He has so much to say but is too embarrassed to say it.

Denki would love to share headphones with you. I fear his tase in music would either be shit or the best in the planet. If it's bad you help him shape it to be better. He'd love to keep his in during class so then he can think about you isntead of whatever boring thing you are getting taught. Also I fear he'd forget to charge them all the time.

Bakugo is the type of guy to tell you no while simultaneously doing it. Like you ask him "could you get me a glass of water?" "No is already getting up to get a glass" or he'd tell you know and wait all of 15 seconds before doing it for you.

Denki when he gets nervous will let out little zaps on accident. As most the tickle or leave a slight sting but nothing crazy. So for your first kiss he's freaking out, obviously, and accidently zaps you. Face is bright red and he's now embarrassed for the rest of his life. Definitely wants to go die in a hole but when you start laughing and kiss him anyway he's fine.

Tokoyami would also like to share earbuds with you but like I said before his music taste is immaculate. Personally I like Korn and maybe im biased but I think he'd like that band to. And just all around metal/rock bands. But also just good music in general. Unlike denki he'd charge his earbuds religiously. He'd die without his music same bro.

Bakugo after a hard day of training would go straight to your dorm. Somehow he thinks it's way more comfortable then his. He just plop down on your bed before a shower before changing clothes anything. Which would be ew but he'd eventually do all that but first he needs a kiss and small cuddle with his partner first.

Ida would look up relationship stuff. This is probably cringe but like I fear he'd get nervous about his first relationship and then all the sudden he's looking up "how long should you date before you kiss your partner?" Eventually he realizes he just needs to take everything at his own speed.

[ninthskzmember]

Sharing is caring. Part II

Lee Know x reader. (Pt 1)

warnings: straight up smut. pet names. wc: 1,3k. an: hey! Just wanted to let you know that this is my first time writing smut in english. If you've got any suggestion, i'm open! Thank you for all the likes, reblogs and love this is getting!

Requests are open :)

"Who was in your imagination when you came up with that question?" You were holding his head while he sucked and left marks on your neck.

Those, for sure, will last at least a few days on you, and there's just something about you getting marked that Minho just loves. You're his, and he can do whatever he wants with you, even lending you to one of his mates just for his own pleasure.

In his imagination, it was for sure Chan who he wanted to share you with. What a better gift to his stressed, overworked, and single leader than you being all fucked up for both him and his only hyung.

And of course, he has seen the way Chan sometimes looks at the marks on your neck, and his eyes get dark for a split second before composing himself and starting to act normal again.

"I prefer you to choose, love," he said while making his kisses a road up to your chin and then your mouth.

A kiss that was wet from the start made you feel the same way.

In your head, you were really working through it. Jeongin? You feel like that's just wrong. Seungmin? You feel in your guts that he'd make a fucking mess out of you. Felix? Just like the maknae, you wouldn't want to take away the angelical aura they make you feel. Jisung? Yes, he's a reasonable option for this. Hyunjin?…

Lee Know took you out of your thoughts when he pulled away and slipped his hand on your pants, feeling just how much the thoughts you were having were having an effect on you.

He was still close to your face, and you could feel his minty breath on top of your lips.

"Oh," he said with a cheeky smile on his face, "you're really into it." His eyes locked on yours. "Who's got you all wet for me, baby?" He said this before biting your lip.

"No one in particular," you said with a breathy voice while feeling his digits play with your clitoral area.

"Why do you lie to me, kitten?" He asked while introducing one of his fingers to your core. "Were you thinking about Changbin getting his big dick into you?" His whisper on top of your ear sent shivers all over your body, making you clench around his only finger inside of you.

The thing is, you didn't even make it to the thought of Changbin, and you didn't know if you loved or hated your imagination.

"You'd like that, right, baby?"

Your only answer was multiple nods and a needy look.

"Use your words," he said, stopping his movement.

"Yes," you replied instantly, winning a satisfied smile from your man.

"Come here," he slipped out of you and guided you both to the couch where you were originally reading.

He took a seat first, the man spreading his posture, and with that look of his, you knew what he wanted.

"Come here," he ordered, and you obeyed. Your legs one to each side of his hips, his strong grip on top of yours. He made you sit directly into his already hard dick, winning a discrete little moan from your lips.

"Babe, I want you," you said with no shame at all, wanting to move over all his length.

"Work for me," he smiled, and that's just what you started doing—grinding over your boyfriend over and over, leaving a wet line on his pants where you were having fun.

Both of you were a moaning mess, and you almost forgot where all of this started. You were drunk on the taste of Minho's lips, neck, skin, and cock.

"Is Changbin your final answer, kitten?" His question brought you over to the real world again.

"No." Your answer came out of your mouth faster than you thought, and you didn't even know if Changbin was your final answer or not until you said it.

"Alright," he said, smiling and pulling you in to kiss you desperately again. You couldn't even form a thought from the stimulation you were getting.

Lee Know took your shirt off, throwing it somewhere in the living room, followed by your bra. He wasted no time and started playing with your nipples, one on his mouth and the other with his right hand.

You were getting high-pitched, so he knew you were close. His left hand traveled to your hips and wrapped his arm around them, making you feel his dick tighter. He started helping with the movements too, making you almost reach the stars.

Until he remembered.

He stopped you abruptly, and you whined.

"I wanna cummmm," the sentence came out of your lips like a cry, matching your watery eyes.

"Oh, you will, but after we decide," he said cheekily, and he laid you on your back.

He locked his lips on yours again and took the reins.

"I'll take whoever you want, babe." You got your legs around his body, pulling him closer, trying to feel his hard stick rubbing against your core again.

But Minho is not the kind of person who just gives in. No, he will make you work. Work for your orgasm, and work for who you'll choose to fuck you dumb.

With one of his hands, he reached down and felt how you even stained your jeans. He laughed and took a look over his own pants, realizing you did the same to him.

"Needy little fucker," he said, smiling at you.

It took little to no time for him to make you both naked; now you are both desperate.

He aligned himself with you, getting just the tip in.

"Hyunjin," he said out of nowhere, making you confused. "Alright," he said, moving a little bit deeper.

"Felix," he said this time, and now you kind of understand what he was doing. He wanted to see how your body reacted to each of his friends. There was no movement for Felix or Jeongin either. So now he was 4/7 inside you.

"Jisung." Even you could feel the little twitch from your walls around him at the sound of Han's name. "Nice," he said, and he went a little deeper again.

"Changbin"—your  hips betrayed you, moving up and down to Changbin. "Oh, so we're into 3racha," he smiled down at you, biting his lower lip.

"Minho, please, I need you," you whined again. "I need you to fuck me dumb right now. I need you to make a mess out of me right now."

"Choose." He said this when he went all the way inside you without stopping. He started pounding you hard, making you a moaning mess. "Kitten," he said, pulling your hair lightly.

"Kim Seungmin. I want Kim Seungmin. Please, Minho, please." You made your decision drunk on your boyfriend's dick, and you were glad you did. "Oh, baby, you feel so good; please don't stop, don't stop."

"Didn't you think you couldn't handle him, you little slut?" His smile couldn't be erased, sweat falling from his forehead. "You like being a slut; you like being a mess."

You nodded at his words, clenching with each one of them. You were close, and so was he.

"You like the thought of Seungmin getting his dick into you, don't you?" You didn't even pay attention to what he was saying at this point; you just wanted to cum.

"Just imagine Bang Chan Hyung fucking you as deeply as I am doing right now," he whispered in your ear, and that was it.

Not only did you hit your orgasm, but you also squirted the hell out of you.

A surprised Lee Know came out of you with shock in his eyes while you were still going through your high.

Your man was not dumb; he knew what it was. He was just surprised because it was the first time you were able to do it.

"Oh my god," you said, still twitching a bit.

"So, BangChan?" He smirked down at you.

"Definitely Chris." you answered, biting your own lower lip.

"We've got our final answer. Now come here and give me some head; I want to cum too," he said, carving your cheek, and you did not think twice before getting on your knees.

Part 3

[qu0rky]

As much as i can understand where Via is coming from, and her feelings are valid, she doesn’t see her dad as a living person outside of just being her father. And that isn’t right. It’s especially not right seeing just how many people feel absolutely no empathy for him.

“She was just a child having to endure all that!!” Okay, and how old was Stolas when he had to marry an abusive girl and have a kid of his own, exactly? At least he gave Via a chance to have a good childhood, he didn’t have one. He didn’t have anything except for his duties to carry out.

And while it’s heartbreaking that Via sees herself as an obligation, that’s literally what she was supposed to be. Though that doesn’t mean that was how he saw her. She was what saved him, what made him endure all the abuse, what kept him going.

But sometimes that’s not enough, he had NO ONE to confide in and couldn’t put his frustrations on his own kid (because he’s a good father, despite what some of you would like to believe, clearly you didn’t grow up with a parent trying to guilt you by traumadumping when you can barely understand it), so he also NEEDED the pills.

The thing is, i also had that mentality towards my mom for dealing with depression UNTIL i started experiencing it myself. Because it’s so hard to realize that your parents are also human beings, since they’re supposed to protect you, they’re supposed to have everything figured out, to be the shoulder you cry on.

But if i see another dumbass claim that he CHOSE to leave and made the wrong decision in Mastermind, i need you out of this fandom. The whole point of that was that he had no choice, was he supposed to throw away the man he fell in love with, his first friend, his first time that wasn’t for procreation, and the one who liberated him? Stolas is allowed to care for more than one person, and he deserves to be loved romantically by someone.

You’re being too harsh on Stolas because for whatever reason you hate an abuse victim finally having a say in how to live for once in their lives, adding on top of that the weird, underlying homophobia in some of your criticisms for him.

Also i have a bad taste in my mouth from Via only seemingly hating Stolas, despite having SEEN how shitty Stella is. Sure, she doesn’t know the full extent of the abuse, but she’s heard the yelling, she’s seen the throwing, the ridiculing, the insensitivity. And most likely that woman neglected Via as much as possible, because she also didn’t choose to have her, but unlike Stolas she didn’t give a fuck to take responsibility regardless. (Reminding you of the “You get up” comment from Loo Loo Land). This was all happening before the cheating, so that’s not an excuse for her behavior (not that the cheating was, but at least Via would have been able to reason with her reaction to it).

It’s a complicated situation and it’s so shitty to put all the blame on Stolas, he tried so much for his family, but it was never going to be enough, because he’s gay. I’m glad he got out of that marriage.

Honestly, had i been given all those responsibilities at his age in a loveless marriage, i would’ve gone insane. I wouldn’t have been kind to my child, the cause of my shit life. But he never saw her as a weight on his shoulders, he has so much love for Via.

[btsficsandsuch]

Taste of His Own Medicine

You suddenly have to leave to go back to your home country for a few months. Yoongi decides to ignore you so you decide to show him how it feels when he realizes you’re gone.

“Hi Yoongi.”, you said after letting yourself in the studio. You received nothing more than a grunt. “I brought you some food.”, you said trying to lure him over to the couch. “Not now Y/N. I’ve got a lot going on.”, he said without even looking at you. You were starting to get frustrated. Sure you wanted to spend time with him but you also had something really important and time sensitive to tell him. You knew he was already stressed and cranky and your news wasn’t going to make it any better. “Yoongi please come have dinner with me. I really need to talk to you about something.”, you begged. He slammed his hand on the desk and spun his chair around startling you., “What part of not now I’m busy are you not understanding? Sometimes you can be so frustrating Y/N. Please just get out and leave me alone.” You didn’t say a word and just grabbed your bag storming out of his studio slamming the door behind you.

Back at your apartment you were doing your best to calm your nerves. You couldn’t believe that he had the audacity to speak to you like that and even after you haven’t spoken or seen each other in three weeks. You felt that you were more than patient and understanding when he got into moods like this with his work. He always did this to you where he’d ignore you and if he did pay attention to you he was short with everything you did and said. You finished zipping up the last of your bags and placed them by the door along with your plane ticket. Something had come up and you had to fly back to your home country which was the reason for your visit to Yoongi’s today. You were going to tell him that in the morning you had to fly home and you’d be gone for at least two months. You had hoped to eat dinner together and cuddle a little since it would be the last time you’d be with each other for a while. Instead you were yelled at and called names.

The following morning you woke up and checked your phone secretly hoping for a text or a phone call or anything from Yoongi giving you a reason to call him and hear his voice before leaving for the airport but nothing. “Fine then. If he doesn’t care I won’t either.”, you thought slamming your phone down on the desk. You showered and got changed just finishing up when you got a notification that your ride was waiting outside. You grabbed your bags and took one last look at your apartment you’d be away from and closed the door behind you.

Once at the airport you remembered why you hated flying so much. The crowds of rude people, the loud noises, the having to rush no matter how early you are. You hated it. Your first flight went smoothly. You arrived at your layover destination and decided to grab something to eat while you waited to board your next flight. While eating your sandwich you remembered that you had turned your phone off before the last flight and pulled it out of your pocket to power it on.

Once up and running you waiting for any notifications to pop up. There were two texts from your mom, one from your best friend, and one from your boss. Then you saw something that concerned you. 11 missed calls and close to 20 texts messages, all from Yoongi.

Yoongles: Hey Y/N, I’m on my way home. Did you need me to stop and get you anything? I seriously can’t want to get in bed with you. I need a hug more than anything.

“Odd he wants to pretend like he didn’t snap last night.”, you thought before continuing to read.

Yoongles:Y/N where are you? I thought today was your day off.

Yoongles: Babe seriously you never go this long without responding.

Yoongles: Y/N why is a bunch of your stuff gone? Did you leave?

Yoongles: Listen I know I’ve been difficult lately but you know I love you and you mean everything to me.

Yoongles: Y/N please answer me. I’m really worried right now. Whatever happened we can fix it.

Before you could continue reading your phone started ringing again. You saw Yoongi’s name pop up. Part of you wanted to just ignore him but you did feel kind of bad knowing that he was in distress. You decided to answer,

“Hello”

“Y/N! Where are you? I’ll come to you. We need to talk”

“Umm I’m actually at the airport waiting for my connecting flight back home.”

“What?! You’re going back home? Like forever?”

“No I’ll be gone for at least the next two months. Maybe a little longer.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving? You seriously just packed your stuff without saying goodbye.”

“Actually I came by your studio yesterday. Remember? I had found out yesterday morning that something has come up and I need to go back home for a while. I brought you food and asked you to talk to me. You ignored me and then yelled at me and called me annoying and told me to leave so I did.”

There was a long silence before Yoongi spoke again, “No this isn’t happening. I really don’t get to see you for at least two months? I can’t live like that.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, “Well maybe this will teach you not to take our time together for granted and to not treat me like that. They’re about to start boarding so I have to go. Take care of yourself Yoongi. I’ll see you when I get back.” With that you hung up not giving him the chance to say anything else. You knew it was harsh but he was also harsh towards you and you wanted him to regret his actions as petty as that might be. Maybe he’ll see what it feels like to be on the receiving end of feeling ignored. A taste of his own medicine.

You shut your phone back off and made your way to the gate boarding your next plane. Your next flight thankfully went quick and you landed back in your home country. You were going to be staying with your parents. Finally arriving at your parents house you quickly went up to your old room and laid in bed exhausted from the day of travel. You turned on your phone so you could charge it and set your alarm clock when you heard a bunch of notifications which you figured were all from Yoongi. You were correct. He had tried to call you six more times and sent you a bunch of texts,

Yoongles: Y/N I’m really sorry. I was such a jerk. I never should’ve asked you to leave.

Yoongles: Please let me know when you’ve landed so that I know you’re safe.

Yoongles: I’ll stop bothering you. Just please let me know you’re safe and okay. I’m laying in bed alone and I really miss you. I love you.

You sighed. As much as you wanted to completely ignore him you knew he’d be a nervous wreck all night if he didn’t know you were safe and you didn’t want that.

You: I just got to my parents so I’m safe. Get some sleep Yoongi. You really need it. I’ll talk to you another time.

Over the next couple months Yoongi texted you and called you more than he had in the last six months. You didn’t completely ignore him but you definitely tried to give him that taste of his own medicine.

You were able to get everything situated back home and got prepared to make the trip back to Seoul. You had decided to keep it a surprise from Yoongi telling him that you were still probably going to be gone for a few more weeks.Thankfully the trip was quick and easy and you were now making your way to his studio. You knocked on the door but all you heard was a muffled Go Away. Rolling your eyes you knocked again, this time louder and harder hoping to get his attention.

It worked because a few second later the door swung open with fury and standing there was a disheveled Yoongi. He looked like he hadn’t slept the entire time you were gone and he probably ate just enough to barely keep him alive. “What do you wa-?”, he stopped mid speech when his eyes met yours. Instantly he lunged forward wrapping his arms around you burying his face in your neck. Before you could say anything you felt his shoulder start to shake and not long after you felt warm tears landing on your neck. Gently you pushed him away to get a better look and saw that he was crying.

“Yoongles, why are you crying?”, you asked wiping at the tears. This was only the third time he had ever allowed you to see him cry and it was heartbreaking. He was taking this a lot harder than you ever thought he would.

Quickly you pulled him into his studio and sat him down on the couch trying to comfort him. After he was able to calm his breathing he leaned onto you snuggling his face in the crook of your neck, “I’m so sorry Y/N. I never knew how hard it was when I shut you out. These last couple months have been awful.” You kissed his forehead, “It’s okay Yoongi. I’m here now. I’m sorry that I just left like that but I wanted you to see how it felt even though it was painful for me too. I worried about you every day while I was gone.” He chuckled, “Yeah well I cried pretty much every night. I don’t know how you did it all these years. I promise I’m going to be better about spending time with you and I’ll watch my mouth.” You smiled while pushing the hair out of his face, “Good because next time I go home I just might not come back.” Yoongi shook his head at the thought.

You watched him walk over to his computer closing all of the systems and powering it off. “What are you doing?”, you asked confused. He started putting on his coat and walked over to take your hand, “We’re gonna go get something to eat and then go home. We have two months of cuddles to make up for and I’m not waiting any longer.” You smiled taking his hand and walking out of the room with him happy that you finally get to relax in his arms like you wanted from the start.

[ssahotchnerr]

beach days with the family 🥹🥹💕💕💕 I just KNOW aaron would be stressing about Ellie swimming but seeing Jack being such a good but brother and helping her ☹️☹️💝 it literally melts my heart

- 🏎️

🥹💕💕💓

aaron would be stressing about everything omg 😭 you'd have to remind him to calm down and enjoy himself LOL

but sooo much goes into a beach trip, aaron can't help it 😭 first it's packing all the necessities - beach toys, towels, chairs, SUNSCREEN, an umbrella, snacks, drinks in a cooler, etc.. then loading it all up into the car. a lot of the prep happens the night before - beach bags are packed, you lay out all the swimsuits; jack and aaron have matching swim shorts, ellie has the cutest little swimsuit 😭😭😭 so in the morning, you're getting jack and ellie ready as aaron gets the car ready. he plans to leave decently early in the morning too; to get to the beach at a reasonable time, to beat traffic and the crowd (the day you planned to go is a scorcher), to get a good spot.

that's the first order of business - getting that spot. it's close enough to the water that you can easily watch jack, and it's not a long walk if ellie were to fill up a bucket of water for a sandcastle. once the umbrella is up, chairs underneath and towels are laid out, aaron's making sure everyone is lathered generously in sunscreen. jack even has a baseball cap on, ellie has an adorable bucket hat, for that extra layer of protection - no one is getting burnt on aaron's watch, and he makes sure to reapply sunscreen multiple times 😭 the same goes for you!!!! once jack and ellie are protected from the sun, aaron's putting plenty of sunscreen on you himself 😭🥰 in addition!! breaks from the sun are frequent - aaron drags the two of them under the umbrella, making sure they hydrate as well.

jack's just the best big brother 🥹 he teaches ellie how to make a sandcastle, how to jump over waves, how to hunt for shells 🥹 the two of them keep each other busy, which is extremely helpful because then you and aaron can enjoy the sun and do your own thing - reading, sunbathing, whatever. hehe you keep the bau ladies groupchat busy, by sending pics of your beach day 🥹<333 jack and ellie cheesing in front of their sandcastle, ellie wearing aaron's sunglasses which are muchhh too big for her, aaron standing there all 🤨 with his arms crossed, as he watches jack and ellie play in the shallow water 🥰

jack holding ellie's hand as they wade into the water 😭🥺 keeping her close, and so the waves don't knock her over 😭 they're in the water just enough for the little currents to hit their feet, which causes ellie to shriek in excitement every time 😭🥺 and if the waves start to pick up, aaron's joining them immediately (ellie also has a lifejacket/floaties on her arms in she's in the water)

and if ellie wants to go in further, aaron or you are accompanying her🥰 while keeping that watchful eye on jack too. he's bolder when it comes to playing in the ocean, ellie on the other hand, is a bit hesitant. at first even, she has a minor meltdown when she feels the hot sand under her feet, the texture of it different and she has major difficultly walking in it, and absolutely detests the taste of the salt water when it splashes her and gets into her mouth - but she gets used to it rather quickly.

but, just the visual of ellie is hoisted on aaron's side - clinging onto him for dear life - as the waves crash against the two of them 😭😭💓💕💓💕 sobbing. while she's always on the clingier side, it heightens a ton when something's new or she's nervous 🥺<3

aaron's least favorite part of going to the beach though - sand. he just hates that it clings onto everything, there's always more of it to be found. so when it's time to leave, he's profusely shaking the towels, rinsing off the toys in the ocean, getting as much of it off jack and ellie as he possibly can 😭 it's inevitable, he knows, but some gets onto the floor of the car, gets stuck in ellie's car seat, and he gets so troubled by it LOL 😭 that night when you're home, he's in the garage vacuuming it all up right away LOL

but it's worth it 🥹<3 the fun the kids had, spending time together as a family, he'd do it all over again in a heartbeat 💓🥰

[theastrical]

a heritage

a short drabble; where zhongli kept on seeing the same you all over again in all of your different lifetimes; in the same exact moment you forget his existence. Hence, he keep all of your favorite stuff..in order for him not to forget a single part of your past lives with him.

zhongli x reader

“It’s not like you would remember me..” , he said that nonchalantly. His palm delicately folding yours. Making sure it felt secure and comfortable, at least for him, it felt like warming up a cold blanket; comfortable yet…exhausting.

he looks at you…his smile hasn’t appeared and you don’t know when will it ever appear again.

“then at least, take what’s left from me.”

“i have done so ever since your 2nd life begun and it didn’t help you recover your memory from those lives you’ve been through…it’s useless.”

“but you still keep it and that speaks volumes. You’re a hypocrite..” you laugh quietly, wanting to make him at least hate you or even get mad at you. Just a hint of emotion is what you crave for.

“because you took so long.” he whispers, his head has dropped onto the floor, like he was defeated from a certain question. “and i miss you.” The end of his words stung that same spot on your heart. emotion is a weakness that zhongli can easily point out from you…yet it’s also the same strength you have that he lacks off.

either because him reflecting his emotion means that he become human overtime or…

his figure tremble slightly and suddenly a sudden cough was heard before he confesses..“I’m sorry…even in your 13th life, i’m still crying over your mortality. I’m so stupid for loving you…it’s addicting to be involved in pain.”

oh my zhongli, whatever happened to your eyes? It has never been this warm…

or has it? no…i don’t know. I will never know.

“I’m relieving history again and somehow..it feels so good…” he say that before crying even further. His tears are running down like a waterfall. Yet he doesn’t even squints his eyes or have that trembling mouth curve. He’s tired of crying. He’s tired of me.

he gently takes off your ring…

“even gods hate to see death, you know?”

he kisses the back of your palm. “I can feel you losing your own self now…”

he kisses your fingertips. “then just…rest, i’ll wait again.”

“you’ve grown old, you’ve lived off towards good and bad moments…you’ve done what you could to stay with me in this life.”

“someday, i’ll find you again. And i’ll make sure, you remember me before you die. Just like this time…that time…and the next.”

you smile, your eyes puffy from his words. You wishes more but…80 years? That’s basically 8 seconds for him but 500 years for you. But That’s okay. That will always be okay. Because you know, death will be painless, death will come and go just like when his lips taste yours for the very last time.

“goodnight zhongli.”

and there’s your ring…between your favorite items beside his collection of your favorite stuffs in your past life.

ring…flower petals…piece of cloth…and…just a picture of you and him.

“for zhongli, don’t forget me!”

because soon, his duty is to remind you of him…and to make sure, his immortality is spent for you, and only you.

taglist: @esthelily @indarius @n0tamused @sangoqueenkoko @voidlesslove @lyralibra @eroxotckv @rikasurl @dailypenpen @daydreaming-paradies

[sweeterelease]

no me digas que no

jegulus microfic I tiny gift for @alexsays-no I wc: 867

James likes singing to him.

Everyone knows James Potter indulges in a little makeshift karaoke from time to time, most times, nearly every fucking day. Regulus can hear him in the shower, while cooking, working, cleaning, reading, he could really just be existing and still feel the need to hum or sing along to whatever song his mind has fixated on that week.

Regulus isn’t really sure he gets music the same way James does, he prefers his poetry written dry on paper, it grants him the power of bestowing his own sense to it rather than sticking solely with the one created by instrumental. Regardless, he can appreciate James’ soft voice humming into his ear, whispering lyrics like he’s confessing his crimes to Regulus, even when most fo the time he can’t understand a word serenaded to him.

“Oye mi amor, no me digas que no,” James’ low voice melts into the back of Regulus’ neck as his hands wrap around his torso, he’s slightly rocking them from side to side to the muffled soft rock melody coming from the living room.

Regulus has heard this song before, enough to actually recognize it. James’ music taste doesn’t shy away from that many genres, so he rarely finds himself obsessed with the same song twice, but this, Regulus knows, this is his song, —he suspects James has subconsciously assigned it to him— it’s the only one James always, always sings when it’s just the two them.

“…y vamos juntando las almas,” James follows, Regulus can feel the grin against his shoulder. His frame completely secured by the other’s larger one, it feels like home, always has.

Regulus turns off the water after he’s done rinsing his hands and walks over to the kitchen island where he left his cup of tea. James hangs from his back and waddles right behind him. After a quick sip, Regulus places the cup down and leans back to rest his head on James’ right shoulder. He feels light kisses flutter against his cheek.

“Hello,” Regulus offers.

“Hi love,” James replies, letting go of his sides just to reach for his hands on the counter.

“What’s this?”

James chuckles, “A hug?”

Regulus sinks into it, welcoming. The embrace feels content, almost overwhelmingly so, “You're happy.”

Another chuckle, “I am.”

They both know it’s genuine, he can feel his own body feed from James’ energy, “Anything in particular?”

“Just this, you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Potter,” Regulus laughs.

James is silent for a moment, pondering. And then Regulus feels a gentle nibble at his earlobe, “Right, I forget annoyance got us here .”

He laughs again. Regulus seems to just laugh whenever he’s with James, it was strange and confusing at first, now he rather likes it. Regulus frees one if his hands to lift it up by the other’s head, fingers curling around unruly hair. James continues rocking them back and forth to the music, serenading him again when the chorus comes.

“I know this song,” Regulus points out.

“Do you?,” James hums back.

“It’s the one you always sing,” —for me, he ends up not saying.

James makes a pleased affirmative noise, agreeing with him. And because Regulus is always right, he says, “Well, it’s kind of your song. In my mind, at least.”

I noticed. He thinks it’s adorable, but he’d like to know more about this recurrent tune, “What does it mean?”

A beat, “You know, for a native-level in french, you’re pretty shit at all the other romance languages.”

James must think he’s so funny, hilarious. Regulus huffs and turns his head just enough to glare at him.

“Excuse you? French is the superior one anyway.”

James lets out a proper cackle at that, head rolling back, “Not in a million years.”

“So, do you secretly hate me? Is that what the lyrics say?”

James hums again to the music, eyes creasing at the corners from the grin pulling at his cheeks, “Close guess.”

See, while Regulus does have an —justifiable, thank you— inclination for the french language, he thinks the rest of the romance languages aren’t that bad. At least spanish, which he recognizes in the song, can be quite similar to his mother tongue sometimes. Hence, Regulus gets a hint that the song isn’t about hatred at all.

“I secretly hate you, too,” he whispers, right by James’ ear.

“I know.”

Regulus’ gaze drops down to James’ smiling mouth, his lips look inviting, he wants to bite. “Not much of a secret now,” Regulus can feel his own lips stretch into a small smile too.

“Shame.”

James closes his eyes as the song reaches its climax, tightening his hold around Regulus while he sings along to the bridge.

Oye mi amor, no me digas que no, y vamos juntando los cuerpos…

Because Regulus is very much not pretty shit at other latin-derived languages, he catches the end of that last chorus. He also decides to obey.

Sue him, perhaps Regulus does like spanish, but he knows James rather enjoys french as well.

[thatapostateboy]

we all have a hunger

Pairing: Rook & Lavellan (platonic), brief hint at Solas x Female Lavellan

Word Count: 1675

Synopsis: In which Rook and Lavellan finally get to talk.

Prompt: Day Two: Rebellion from the Veilbound challenge by @/nympthi and @/citadrells on Twitter

Warnings: Mentions of slavery, Veilguard mild spoilers/speculation

Crossposted: Here on AO3

Rook wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Lavellan. She’d heard the stories of course, from rumours whispered amongst slaves and nobles alike in Tevinter to hearing it straight from Varric’s mouth, and yet none of them were quite able to do the fabled Herald of Andraste justice. Solas had painfully little to say, often cutting that line of questioning short whenever she so much as hinted at a connection between them. Harding had been the most honest, telling her that yes, she was a hero, that she had walked in the Fade and slayed would-be gods, but that she was a woman, a person, same as the rest of them.

Rook found that all but impossible to believe when the legend herself had strode through the Eluvian like she owned the place, demanding to know what was going on and why the Evanuris were rampaging across Northern Thedas. She looked like one of the illustrations in Varric’s books come to life, minus the flowing hair and waving standard of the Inquisition planted behind her.

She had not taken charge, though Rook would not have protested to someone more qualified taking control of the situation, but there was a respect and reverence around her. When she so much as entered a room, everyone paid attention, even Assan.

It took weeks of hard-fought battles at each other’s side, even harder fought conversations as the two differing personalities attempted to work together, but Rook finally saw her.

It had been the early hours of the morning, or whatever counted as morning in the Fade, but as the other members of the Veilguard had found sleep, Rook had found none, and it seemed that neither had Lady Lavellan. Rook found her already sat at the kitchen island, a cup of tea in her hand, staring contemplatively down into the steaming liquid.

“Can’t sleep either?”

Lavellan looked up at her, letting out a sigh, “Is it that obvious?”

“I hate to break it you, but the circles under your eyes give it away,” she pointed out, pouring her own mug of tea and leaning against the counter to look at her, “Does it ever get easier? Finding rest after everything we see?”

“I’ll tell you when I know,” she gave a soft snort into her mug as she took a mouthful.

Rook sipped at her own mug, humming at the taste, “Is that honey… with hints of dragonthorn?”

Lavellan’s eyebrows rose, “You have quite the palate. It’s my own special blend. I guessed there wouldn’t be much tea here so I’ve been mixing my own.”

“No, the Dread Wolf doesn’t seem to be a fan of tea,” Rook noted, “Or most things, I’ve found.”

“Not entirely true, he does have a taste for tiny cakes.”

Rook smiled at that, “And what about you, Lady Lavellan? What do you have a taste for? Aside from excellent tea blends.”

“Honey cakes,” she admitted, “I used to make them all of the time when I was young, my papae’s family recipe… I can’t remember when I last had the time to bake. Everything just been so…”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “It has… Y’know, I never thanked you.”

“Thanked me? Whatever for?”

“Coming out of retirement, being here to keep my ass out of the fire,” she said.

“Sweet as it is for you to say, I never actually retired,” she pointed out, “Keeping people’s asses out of the fire is what I’ve been doing since the Conclave exploded.”

Rook examined her for a few moments, then gave a resounding nod, “Breakfast.”

“What?”

“I’m going to make you breakfast.”

“I couldn’t impose-”

“It’s the least I can do, all things considered. Besides, I enjoy cooking, so c’mon, what do you…” she trailed off, eyes landing firmly on the one unused pan that still hung on the rack, “How about an omelette?”

A smile spread across Lavellan’s face, “They are my absolute favourite, how did you know?”

“What’s with the one omelette pan?”

The conversation had occurred within the first week of living at the Lighthouse, not long after the full team had been recruited and they had truly begun to explore what the Dread Wolf had to hide away. And for all of the mysteries and magics here, there was only one thing that truly bothered Rook.

The irritation in Solas’ voice was palpable as he turned to look at her, “I’m sorry?”

“You have the most depressing kitchen setup, you own one fork, spoon, knife, plate, bowl and cup, all which look like they’ve never been used… and yet you have a top-of-the-line Orlesian omelette pan.”

He huffed, “Of all of the inane queries you have used this tenuous connection for- How do you know it’s Orlesian? And that it is designed for omelettes?”

She put her hands on her hips, “I know my way around a kitchen with my eyes shut. So, what does a god who doesn’t eat need with an omelette pan?”

“That is none of your business.”

“Very well,” she nodded, “Lucanis was looking to use it, I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t some hidden magical art-”

“No!”

She glanced up at him with a mirthful smirk at his protest, “No?”

“It’s…” he regained his composure a little, “I was saving it for a special occasion.”

Her smirk only grew, “I’ll tell Lucanis to get his own. The omelette pan will remain untouched until you can escape the Fade and treat yourself to breakfast.”

Oh that old wolf had it bad.

“Educated guess,” Rook smiled.

“I’ve had a love for them since I tried them on my first trip to Orlais, back when the Breach had just opened. I had to adjust to shem food, but the omelettes, I fell in love with them.”

“Then you’re in luck. Omelettes are my signature dish.”

“You’re sure it’s no trouble?”

“As I said, it is literally the least I can do.”

Rook grabbed the pan that had sat untouched for Maker knows how long, setting it to warm up on the stove as she gathered ingredients out of the cold storage. She set to work, cracking three eggs and whisking them through a sieve, creating a smooth mixture.

Lavellan watched her, still nursing her tea, “I have to admit, I’m impressed that you got the dragonthorn on the first try. I thought it was quite subtle. I didn’t realise I was in the presence of a connoisseur.”

Rook hummed as she whisked, “Hardly. I spent the better part of my youth being trained how to cook by only the finest of Orlesian slaves. My master wanted nothing but the best when we prepared his meals, so I was taught very young how to taste test everything.”

Lavellan met her gaze, “Varric told me a little of your past when he said that you were working together, but he mainly brought up the Shadow Dragons.”

“I can only imagine the spin he put on it,” she rolled her eyes a little, slicing off some butter to melt into the now hot pan, “The slave breaking free from chains to rebel against the system and bringing freedom to the Imperium.”

“Is that not the story?”

“It a version of the story. I’m just… doing what I can.”

“It’s more than most do.”

Rook turned, pouring the egg mixture with care into the pan, hands steady as she guided it to fill every part of the surface, wanting an even cook, “Do you know why I enjoy cooking? Despite my past?”

“Tell me.”

“My master hated eggs. He wasn’t allergic, but he had a distaste for them so bad that he would physically strike us if there was even an egg in the kitchen,” she said, eyes fixed on the omelette as it began to take shape, “So I decided that I would learn to cook every egg dish that I could cram into my head. I would learn them, cook them, and perfect them. And I would feed everything I cooked to the others in the household.”

“You took that risk?” she asked.

Rook grabbed some of the cream cheese mixture that Lucanis kept pre-made in the cold store, piping it delicately through the centre of the omelette, “When I was a child and was first sold to him, I knew that I couldn’t fight him. I was too young, and even if by some miracle I could kill him, I had nowhere to go. So I took solace in my little acts of rebellion. It kept me alive, gave me a reason to never truly give up on the idea of freedom… And the fact it brought joy to the others? That small act that was just for us? It gave us hope.”

She missed the smile on Lavellan’s face as she folded the egg over the cream cheese, the Inquisitor finally realising why Varric had chosen her as his second in command, just as Lavellan couldn’t see the soft look in Rook’s eyes as she told her story, finally opening up to someone.

She slid the omelette delicately onto a plate, finishing it off with some quickly chopped chives and some black pepper, placing it in front of the former Inquisitor.

Lavellan looked positively ravenous at the sight and dug in as soon as Rook handed her a fork, devouring it one messy mouthful at a time. She glanced up at Rook, tears pricking at her eyes, “This is the best thing I have ever eaten.”

Rook snorted, “Shut up, no it’s not.”

She swallowed down her mouthful, “Rook, I’m telling you, I’ve eaten at the Orlesian royal court itself, but this blows their chefs out of the water. This is so good,” she shovelled another forkful into her mouth, “Thank you.”

“Eva.”

“What?”

“My friends call me Eva.”

She smiled at her, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Eva, I’m Brenna.” She lifted her mug of tea towards her, “To small acts of rebellion.”

Eva grabbed her mug and tapped it against hers, “May they see us through.”

[captain039]

Fangs

Astarion x werewolf!reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, feelings, vampire things, werewolf things, jealousy, swearing, intimacy, first times, descriptions of puking xD, swearing, strangers to friends to lovers

Goddamnit I’m getting impatient I can’t wait six days😭

The amount of edits I’ve watched of him is sad

The call of the moon was always on your mind before the full moon. The tingling through your muscles waiting to be free out in the woods, hunt whatever poor creature was out there. It was the day before, you locked your chickens up securely, made sure to close off the garden as you always did and locked the house, you didn’t need a rampage inside, not again. You waited till sundown, sat on a log away from your house, a pair of old clothes on, than again all clothes were old when the full moon came, you never bought anything nice, too afraid to ruin it. As darkness crept over your hair began to stand up, you grew fidgety, muscles spasming. You felt the tug finally and groaned, you went to your knees and panted as you hunched over. Your bones began to crack and your skin began to shed. The whole process was painful and it felt like your mind always slipped away. Soon enough your beast form knelt there, large hands planted in the ground. You let out a grave howl and sniffed the air eyes piercing through the forest as you smelt your hunt. You launched off your hind feet, going down onto all fours as you ran, struggling to fully let go to the beast so you didn’t have to watch. It felt like you’d gone to sleep in a different body when you finally let go. The beast rampaging through the forest, tearing through the deer that it had found. Something was different though, a new scent on the air, strange, being so far out in the forest visitors never came, nor did travellers.

You jolted a bit when you gained consciousness hearing someone stumble back.

“Shit” you heard and snapped your head to see a pale elf with white hair. You frowned at him as he stared at you. You covered yourself the best you could, your beast hated clothing.

“I’m not dead, thank you!” You said and he gulped.

“I know” he said eyes darting awkwardly away.

“Are you lost?” You added feeling highly exposed.

“Uh, no” he said almost like a question.

“You don’t know if you’re not lost?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not lost” he huffed.

“Then go away!” You yelled.

“Right” the man said and hurried away and you cursed lifting your top half off the grass. You waited till you couldn’t see him and quickly darted back to your house. You grabbed a robe you left on the bench outside and put it on before going to your chickens. No damage, and still five chickens. You sighed grabbing their feed and letting them out. You grabbed your basket and gathered their eggs before unlocking your door and heading inside. You thought back to the elf, what a weird man, what was he going to do? rob your body?! Unless it was much darker than that. You shuddered at the thought at least you woke up in time. You didn’t make any food, after whatever the beast ate you were full and nauseous. You grabbed some tea, got dressed and sat outside to watch your chickens. You felt bile in your throat and groaned as you quickly moved away from your house and hunched over and threw up. You coughed and groaned quickly looking away from the chewed up raw meat.

“Oh gods” you said going to your bench with a groan. You wiped your mouth with you robe and shrugged it off, you’ll wash that later. You groaned again slumping against your cottage you took a small sip of tea to get rid of the acid taste in your mouth, before going to clean your robe.

When the next full moon came you didn’t expect to see that elf again, let alone have his fangs in your neck as you awoke. You tore him off and pinned him to the ground, grabbing his own dagger and pressing it to his neck. You panted anger flaring in your mind, beast begging to come up. You groaned fighting for control dagger dropping by his head making him flinch.

“Oh dear” he muttered one hand holding your hip lightly.

“Easy now” he said and you growled at him.

“Or not” he gulped as you tumbled off him. You shook, trying to take deep breaths, gods you didn’t want to change again. Your bones cracked in and out of place, wanting to shift, but you fought listening to the river and birds and finally, you calmed. You listened to the elf behind you shuffle before something was placed over you. You flinched and went to fight him, but realised he was just covering you with his shirt. You glared at him, but sat up, back to him and quickly put it on. You stayed seated in the cross keeping your hands over your lower parts, legs crossed as well. You pressed a hand to your neck and hissed gently. You pulled it back seeing blood and glared at the elf vampire.

“Listen please for a minute” he begged and you gave him a deadly look, also secretly admiring the muscle he had before cursing that thought.

“Or don’t, but, yes I am lost! I haven’t fed in a month not since you’ve apparently hunted everything in this Godforsaken woods!” He yelled and you raised an eyebrow at his stupid lie.

“Ok not everything, just, I needed something more to keep me going till I find somewhere” he sighed pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Human blood is so much more filling” he said and you made a disgusted face.

“Well beast blood in your case I suppose, hells that changing looks painful” he shuddered and you sighed.

“Will you please say something!” He said.

“Fuck you” you said.

“Thank you!” He sighed in relief.

“The village is that way” you pointed.

“How far that way?” He asked.

“A day or two” you shrugged.

“Follow the river” you added.

“Can I have my shirt back?” He commented and you froze.

“When I get back home” you said.

“Shall we just meet again in a months time so you can give it back?” He tried to joke, but you just glared and he chuckled nervously. You could feel the sickness again, your human stomach did not handle raw meat. You gagged a bit and turned away to puke again hearing the disgusted sound he made. You groaned standing up and going to the river. You washed your face before taking a small sip and sighing.

“Why eat it if you’re going to throw it up again?” He asked and you glared at him briefly, not having the strength to hold it though.

“I don’t control it” you said referring to your beast.

“It likes raw meat, I don’t” you sighed trying to find the strength in your legs.

“Would you like help?” He asked standing by you and holding a hand out to you. You wanted to slap it away, but sighed and took it. You felt dizzy as you stood, legs almost caving before he steadied you.

“Easy there” he said as you closed your eyes and kept your head down. You froze though when a tongue ran across the puncture wounds in your neck and slapped him.

“Hells!” He yelled holding his cheek and stumbling back.

“I healed it for you!” He groaned and you felt your neck with a frown, he did. You cursed him quickly storming off.

“My shirt!” He yelled, but you ignored him. He followed you back grumbling along the way, you grabbed your robe and shrugged it on. Counted your chickens and unlocked their cages before feeding them.

“Could you skip your rituals so I can leave quicker” he huffed and you huffed yourself unlocking your house and going inside. You shrugged off your robe and his shirt, smelling his scent in the fabric. It made you freeze for a moment, your sense of smell was always keen, but this smell you enjoyed. You flushed and glanced behind you before you sniffed it again sighing. You threw it on your bed though staring in horror, the hell did you just do?!

You got dressed and threw his shirt back at him and stormed back inside, door slamming shut.

“You’re welcome!” He yelled making your jaw clench as you filled the kettle.

“And thank you!” He added before you heard him leave finally.

You thought you were finally done with the elf vampire but seems fate had other ideas. It hadn’t even been a month, you weren’t lying out in the woods naked with his fangs in your neck. No he was haunting your dreams like some parasite in your head. Some were horrible, you tearing him apart while others were like you’d been friends for years. Who was he?

Next part ->

[almighty-letu]

Day 6 Aleheather Week 2024

Day six, November 16th - Loyalty/Insecurity Create something that in some way shows Aleheather's loyalty to each other AND/OR their insecurities.

I decided to go with both with a little bit of my own spin in this. I always wanted to learn more about Heather's past in the show, and I always wondered how Alejandro would react to that. This is that story fully realized. Hope you enjoy!

Alejandro was precisely the type of guy that once used to be way out of Heather’s league.

Back when she was fat, pimply, and ugly; Alejandro would’ve never had taken a second glance at her. She knew his type way too well. He is a womanizer. A playboy. A casa nova - the type of guy who likes to toy with girls’ feelings just because he can and then make a fool out of them as a lesson for being so stupid and vulnerable in the first place.

Of course, Heather was not like that anymore. She’d evolved and become better for it. She was proud and confident of the fact she’s gorgeous nowadays, but the wounds ran far too deep and still stung.

Maybe that’s why she was so cautious and reserved around him when he was first introduced in the show. Heather caught on from personal experience the type of danger he poses and was quick to target him as a threat. And though Heather tried to resist his charms at first, she, just like every other girl, fell for him. And Heather hated herself for it. Hated the fact she was no better than anyone else.

Still, she could come out on top and say she accomplished the one thing every other girl can only dream of.

Heather bested Alejandro.

She beat him at his own game.

Heather took him down.

She gave Alejandro a taste of his own medicine.

Heather tamed him.

In his own words atop the volcano, somehow, she managed to steal his heart and win him over. Alejandro was hers and no one else's.

In a movie this would be the big defining moment for her. The ugly duckling becomes a swan and gets the guy in the end. But how can she ever lower her guard around him knowing his past tendencies? Knowing deep down inside what she really is? If Alejandro ever found out about her he’d be disgusted by her for sure. In that sense, though they were officially in a relationship, she took it with a giant grain of salt knowing he would never accept her for who she is.

And that’s fine by her.

Heather would rather be known as the mean hot villainess of the show than the ugly loser she once used to be.

Or at least, she thought she was.

The two of them held hands as they walked along the street together, Alejandro chatting her ears off, when they were approached by a fan.

“Oh my gosh! Heather? Heather from Total Drama?” The girl ducked in front of them, halting their path with a wide goofy grin on her face. Heather raised an eyebrow, cautiously leaning closer to Alejandro

“Yeah? Who’s asking?”

“Heather, I am your biggest fan ever! It’s such an honor to meet you in the flesh.” The fan gushed. “Can I have your autograph please?”

Heather rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Let’s just get this over with.” She took the photograph from the fan and froze. Eyes wide and hands trembling. The picture the fan handed to her to sign was a picture of Heather back in middle school. Back before she had her glow up phase… back when she was short, ugly, fat, and all things hideous. “Where… did you get this?” She said slowly, trembling with anger.

“You like it? It took a pretty penny to get it from your school’s yearbook for my weight loss blog. Let me tell you, you are such an icon!” The fan blabbed on enthusiastically. “I look up to you so much! You are truly an inspiration for all of us. You're hardly recognizable! If I didn’t have confirmation no one would hardly know it was you.”

Heather balled her fists in anger, ready to murder the puny girl right here, right now.

“What’s this?” Alejandro blinked down from over her shoulder, getting a glimpse of the photo in her hands.

“N-no, it’s nothing!” Heather crushed the picture too little too late.

“Is that really you?” Alejandro asked softly.

Heather’s breath quickened, her heart racing as she started to panic. “I- no- I’m just-”

“It totally is!” The fan cut in. “Heather used to look totally different back in the day, and now look at her! Truly an icon.”

She couldn’t take it anymore. Heather dropped the picture and bolted. “Heather!” She heard Alejandro call out to her but she didn’t dare look back. She ran away blindly, shoving her way through the crowd to find someplace safe to be away from all the prying eyes staring accusingly in her direction. Trees and buildings blurred past her until Heather arrived at a park. She came to a slow halt near the lake, panting to catch her breath, limbs still shaking.

She dragged herself to sit on the nearby bench, hunched over as she fiddled nervously with her hands. Heather’s heart was racing a mile per second. She couldn’t breathe properly. Her stomach coiled and hurt.

Great. She sniffled, hating how weak and puny she’d become. It’s over between us. Alejandro will never look at my face the same way again. She buried her face into her hands with a sigh, trying to calm down and process her emotions like her therapist suggested.

Soft footfalls crushing on grass drew her attention. A shadow towered over her.

“Heather?” Alejandro called out softly, trying not to set her off again. “Are you alright?”

Heather laughed bitterly. “Does it look like I’m alright?”

Alejandro sat down beside her on the bench. “Okay. That was a stupid question. My bad.” He stared at her worriedly. Slowly he pulled out the crumpled picture from his back pocket, staring at it intently. “So… about this?”

Heather groaned, slouching on the bench with a deep seated sigh through her nose, hands still covering most of her face.

“I had no idea you used to look so different.” Alejandro commented, his voice calm. “You’ve made quite the change for yourself. It’s impressive! Really. That girl back there was right about one thing; you should be proud of how far you’ve come.”

“If you are here to give me the breakup pep talk, I’d rather you spare me the embarrassment and leave me alone, Alejandro.” Heather muttered, still not looking at him.

Alejandro blinked. “Breakup? What are you talking about?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” Heather hissed, dragging her hands down her face. Her eyes are puffy and red. “I am not who you thought I was, okay? Turns out the hot mean girl you’ve been dating was once a sad, pathetic, ugly loser. Does that hurt your ego? Knowing you gave someone like me time of day?”

Alejandro frowned. “I wish you’d been honest with me from the start.”

“Oh I am so sorry for wasting your time - you’re right! All girls should come with warning labels and full history for your convenience. WARNING: Once used braces.” Heather spat sarcastically. “How dare us!”

“Please let me finish.” Alejandro placed a gentle palm on her shoulder. “I wish you’d been honest with me from the start, but I can see how deeply upsetting the topic is for you so I don’t fault you at all for keeping this from me. This clearly means a lot to you.”

“I’m fine!”

“No you’re not. You’re shaking.” Alejandro mildly pointed out.

“If you respect me at all you’ll do as I ask and give me some space.” Heather said.

“Heather, please, I am trying to talk to you.” Alejandro urged. “It’s no surprise the way you are reacting because, well, this is still you we’re talking about here. I know better than anyone else how much your own image means for people like us. But really it’s no reason to be embarrassed.”

“Easy enough for you to say that.” Heather hissed resentfully. “I bet you never struggled a day in your life. Probably had everything handed to you on a silver platter to your beck and call. How would you know anything I’ve gone through?”

“I would if you’d just tell me about it!” Alejandro pressed. “You are so hard on yourself, that you need to be this perfect image of the ideal girl, that you don’t even realize your own self worth.”

“I know my own damn self worth, thank you very much!” Heather snapped, jabbing a finger on his chest. “I worked hard to get to where I am now and I won’t let you or anyone else for that matter undermine that just because of who I used to be.”

“The only one undermining your achievements is you.” Alejandro told her. “And I am not leaving you until we get all those messy feelings out of your system. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Heather deflated, her pride wounded. “You really wanna know? Fine! The truth is, the only reason I am where I am now is because of the effort I put into changing myself way back in the day. Because ever since kindergarten I was always deemed the ugliest girl in class. The kind boys would confess their feelings to as a prank. The kind they would tell their friends I had a crush on them just to ick them out. When I turned 15 I decided enough was enough and had a glow up and suddenly I went from ugliest girl in class to hottest girl in school.” She said dejectedly. “Everything I have, everything I am and stand for… is because of that one change. I have this life… I have fame… security… and you. Without that glow up, I wouldn’t be… I wouldn’t have… I just-”

“Heather.” Alejandro breathed, squeezing her hand.

“I didn’t want you to find out about me this way. Because let’s not kid ourselves; you are only with me because of who I am at my absolute best.” Heather sobbed. “I am barely worthy of your time otherwise because-” She ripped the picture from his hands, revealing the photo of a chubby ballerina with pimples and braces. “THIS IS WHO I AM!”

Alejandro stared at her. Slowly he reached out and pulled the picture away, staring into Heather’s eyes as he cupped her cheek. “Do you really think I am with you for your looks alone?” He whispered. “Change or no change, you would be this no matter what. I fell in love with you for more than just your beauty. I love your determination. Your resilience. How cunning you are. Even your stubborn nature at times can be so endearing. There’s so much more to you than what you see, and I love every part of it.”

Heather frowned. “You wouldn’t be saying those things if we’d met way back when.” She laughed nervously. “You really think you’d notice me if I were still fat?”

“I don’t see why not.” Alejandro said simply. “It’s just more of you to love.”

“Yeah right!” Heather scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“No really! I know you see me a certain way because of the way I presented myself back in the show, but that was all strategy. I am not so superficial to only judge a book by its cover.” Alejandro reasoned. “You are more than meets the eye, Heather. For what it's worth I am proud of how far you’ve come, but I don’t think you should be embarrassed by your roots. I don’t care if you were chubby or pimply or wore braces. That doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

Heather lowered her hands, sniffling.

“Oh! Here.” Alejandro rummaged through his pocket and pulled his phone out. He tinkered with it for a few heartbeats before he handed it to her. “Take a look at this.”

Heather leaned closer, her eyes widening. On the phone was the picture of a way too skinny young boy with lanky limbs and cowlick hair staring deadpanned at the camera. “Wow.” She gasped. “That’s… uh, really something. I never-”

“Yup. That’s me alright.” Alejandro grinned. “As much as I like to brag about my perfect physique, I wasn’t always handsome like this. Trust me, no one likes to remind me of that more than Jose. He keeps me humble that way.”

“Huh, I guess I never really thought of you as anything other than the version I met.” Heather admitted. “You probably got bullied a lot, eh?”

Alejandro nodded. “Oh of course! With Carlos and Jose to compare to, I was massacred by the kids back in the day. But I showed them!” He puffed his chest. “We showed them. Have I calmed your nerves sufficiently enough to prove your worth?” He offered her a tissue.

“Thanks.” Heather accepted the offer, blowing her nose and wiping her tears away with her hand. “It kills me that this picture of me is making its rounds online. God! I will never hear the end of it if anyone in the show catches wind of this.”

“Hey, relax, we’ll think of something.” Alejandro soothed. “You know, we can always take a page out of Courtney’s book and make the girl take down the picture.”

“... Yeah. That sounds good.”

“Are you ready to go home?”

“Just give me a few minutes.” Heather closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she relished the soft breeze on her skin. With Alejandro’s hand in hers she watched the ducks at the park swim around, gathering her composure.