#his ass walks the mile and always stays at the end of the line during kickball

[sinclairstarz]

the mischaracterization of byler is so weird bcs for a while it was like “oh mike is big manly alpha and will is tiny yaoi femboy” but then people were like “oh thats wrong” which is good but then they were like “its wrong bcs actually will is big manly alpha and mike is tiny yaoi femboy” and. its so weird to me like neither of them are either of that what are we doing. i thought we were past the whole “man and woman” stereotype gays like. theyre allowed to both be guys who like stereotypical teenage boy things like video games and scifi movies and theyre also both allowed to be unathletic loserdorks like. its ok. they are allowed to not be one dimensional gay characters that fit into the heteronormative mold.

[purin-gambler]

‘a piece of advice’ - suna rintaro

wc: 1.3k

cw: timeskip spoilers, minimal cursing

⚄ notes: bestfriend suna, fem reader, fluff, heavy implications of romantic feelings, suna might be terribly in love you as way more than friends- but you didnt hear that from me, mentions of past failed dates, suna kinda clowning atsumu at one point ( affectionate )

☁︎ a/n: i kept thinking about this troupe with suna??? the ���hes your best friend but hes in love in you and is tired of seeing you go through other men that isnt him’ troupe and ughhh i had to write it myself. this was supposed to be a drabble oops, but i started to write it like a fic… i just might love this man. like a lot.

“i told you. you shouldve listened to me.” suna’s expression through the handheld device was deadpanned, as he knew from the very second your contact name popped up onto his phone for a video call, he would have to pull the ‘i was right, you were wrong’ card on you. all on the very same evening you would come home from this blind date, he would remind you of your decisions, and hed only received a huff of your breath in response.

clicking suna’s contact name and dialing his number was a common reflex at this point. especially during times like these. suna made it all too accessible to talk to him, knowing that he had no excuse not to answer, since the man was always glued onto that device of his no matter what situation he found himself in.

with all the times youve called, he would answer before the first ring had even rung, never wasting a second, always immediate to talk to you as if he were waiting to hear your voice again.

his willingness to chat and your endless rambles made it easy to connect, considering he was all over the country for the sake of his volleyball career. so video calls like the one you found yourselves in now were more common than youd like to admit. calls where suna found himself taking it easy in his hotel room, miles upon miles away from you to participate in a volleyball match the following morning. while you on the other hand, are on the line ranting in a frustrated manner to him. the opposite demeanors in your personalities clashing at this very moment, suna unsure of what to make of your current rambling outbursts of disappointment.

because calls like these were about men that werent him, taking you out on dates, and disappointing you again.

“i cant believe you went on a blind date with a guy atsumu set you up with.” he sneered.

with an elbow prompted against your desk to support your head resting on your hand, you slouched over your desk, the uncertainty of the matter apparent in your wavering tone. “but the guy sounded nice enough though… thought id give him a chance.”

hearing the way your voice faltered, he mused shortly after, “seemed nice? give him a chance? this guy walked out on you before you even got the bill.”

you watched the way he slouched back onto his chair, arms crossed, and not sparing you a second away from his disapproving gaze. “you couldve left first you know? but youre telling me you stayed, listen to him give you shit, watched him leave, and ended up paying the dinner for his sorry ass instead-?!”

silence was all that sat on the line, suna observing the expression sat onto your face. the display was clear as day, you embodied a disappointed frown that radiated your upsetness through his phone screen. all the time you wasted on some guy who couldn’t even spare you a glance, a ‘date’ that didnt care to let you utter a word, or understand you any more than just your name. an absolute waste of time he was, and it was a mutual agreement between the two of you. suna knowing well that you were way too good for him, and way too good for all these horrible excuses of dates you would find yourself going on. it was unfortunate to him that he knew all these experiences were accumulating in your memory, all too aware of the way they would tear you down.

these were absolutely memories you really didnt need. suna hadnt even experienced what you would tell him, but he began to grow frustrated with the way he had to hear you come home disappointed every single time. though he was never upset with you spilling all the details to him, in fact, he always encouraged it. always keeping an open ear to attentively listen to the spews of the pain and frustration you expressed onto him. listening to the way you explained how these dates wouldnt even give you the time of day. weather they had gotten too caught up in their distaste for your softer appearance, or found your personality unalienable with their own. your best friend couldnt deny his own disappointment that these guys were too stubborn to see you on a deeper level, hours gone on men who wouldnt dare to go as far as to desire any part of you. it upset him more than you knew, even though he never expressed all of it to you.

he just failed to understand time and time again, why they werent able to see you the way he did.

was it so hard? to love your curves of you body he found so beautiful, to love your face he was so happy to see, to love your voice that filled his heart with each of your words, to love the entirety of who you are and your existence without wanting to alter a single thing? he just couldnt understand.

because such a thing was as easy as breathing air for him.

loving you is just that easy.

“you know, atsumu can set volleyballs, not set you up on good dates. this better be the first and last time you take a suggestion like this from him.”

the stiffening weight of the silence between you both being fully broken once you responded with a grumbled, “lesson learned…” falling bitter from your tongue.

“good.”

though the frown on your face was all but faded, still all too prominent for his liking. he was fed up with this sight, because it was too familiar now. a light sigh escaped suna’s lips before he prompted himself forward, taking his phone into his hands.

“now give me the details. full name, photos- it can be some drivers license photo or some shitty thirst trap selfie- i dont care, occupation, date of birth- whatever atsumu showed and told you about. tell me everything.”

you scoffed in disbelief clearly laced with amusement, watching the way suna’s camera paused and cut off, indicating he was now tapping through his phone and opening up social media. ready for you to spill the details, until he was typing various combinations of your date’s name into the searchbar.

whatever he did with that information you provided him was far from your care or concern, knowing that suna was always just on his phone, doing who knows what. you assumed this was just him curiously trying to match a face to your story, since it wouldnt be the first time hes asked about these things.

though with you unaware of that growing irritation from your best friend on your behalf, you wouldnt have known that the second he found the guy, suna, with absolutely no hesitation, compiled together a little message to be sent his way. something he hadnt bothered doing before, but was sure as hell doing now. it was a message he couldve tied up in a little bow if he wanted to, hoping that it wouldve at least softened the blow of the contents written inside.

lets just say, the following morning, you received a heavily detailed apology from your previous date. a message which had caught you completely off guard and jolting you awake in the early hours of the day. staring at the detailed apology, you screenshotted the entirety of its pathetic glory, ready to relay the large paragraph to your best friend after his volleyball match later in the day.

if only you got to see the stupid look of pride on suna’s face after he received your messages.

[sakuramiku]

i spent this past weekend in california with my immediate family & my boyfriend!

i struggle a LOT with vacation depression because i constantly feel like a burden when my mom spends a lot of money on me. i feel so useless despite our agreement being that i have to attend college full time & help with my brother during the week + some weekends. i also get drained super quickly on vacations because of vacation depression. i think a lot of it comes from for me, is how glamorized vacations are in forms of media. but! enough about that.

my boyfriend flew from his area to nyc to meet us and we all left for the airport together. my mom bought clear passes for all of us so we skipped the security line all together and went straight through which will be beneficial when i attempt to go visit my boyfriend (date unknown yet but it will be sometime this year). oh my god bro jetblue SUCKS as an airline like they don’t even provide plug in earphones. we landed early friday morning & slept then we went to disney on the first day.

we stayed in glendale so it was about a fourty min drive to anaheim which was 😮‍💨 california people drive funny too . . i finally understood all the jokes about picking up people from lax and how it’s a nightmare. we went to disneyland first & did some of the rides there, until it started POURING on us. california is the first place i’ve ever seen people CLAP for pouring rain!!!! we had a dinner reservation at the princess and the frog themed restaurant & wow! the place was BEAUTIFUL!!! the food was too ass though. we ended up all having mcdonald’s in our hotel room when we got back there

the next day was my brothers birthday 🥳 🎂so we went to universal studios because his birthday wish was to go to marioland since one just opened in the states. my mom is super anti-rollercoasters (so is my godmommy) but she got on almost everything there was so that was such a change of heart because i remember i used to BEG her to ride on stuff when i was a kid & she would always refuse. we did marioland early access so we had to leave early from the hotel but we were less than twenty mins from the park. since we didn’t eat breakfast, we had food at the park & did a reservation at toadstool cafe. everyone had mario burgers but i got the bowsers fireball challenge. it was good but i wish it had complex spice? after that, my stomach felt like i ate lava. we were able to bypass a 180 min line for mariokart THANK GOD! the worker was really nice about my brother being special needs & i feel like all the workers were so nice at the parks. we had universal express for all the rides but that doesn’t work on that specific ride. we did all the rides in the park & besides mariokart, i really loved the return of the mummy ride.

after that, we went back to disney to finish the rides we couldn’t when it started raining. we started in california adventure & did everything in there! my favorite ride in there would have had to be the incredicoaster, radiator springs (we were in the winning car), & mike and sully. i temporarily lost my phone on incredicoaster messing with my lil brother bc he wanted to carry this princess and the frog themed book all day long. i HATED that damn guardians ride that my brother wanted to go on. IVE ALWAYS HATED drop rides, rollercoasters let you see what’s happening where as drop rides scare you like that shit was 116ft in the air which is nothing compared to the shit that’s on the side of kingda ka which is at the six flags near my house. that one is 416ft in the air and goes almost 100 miles per hours. i remember when i did the formula rosa in dubai’s ferrari world & that was 290 miles per hour but it was a regular roller coaster! except the part where they make u put on goggles bc if a bug hits u in the eye while ur on the ride… u will lose that eye 😭😭😭😭

then we went over to the disneyland again by the time we got over there, the fireworks show was happening. so we walked over to a small world and waited. then did everything in the remaining park except roger rabbit because it was closed which made me sad cause if you know me, I LOVE ROGER RABBIT. that’s one of my disney movies, i can quote that movie all day long & the toad ride because it broke down while we were in line and since the park closed in eleven minutes, we decided to head back to glendale from anaheim. swore i started my period on the park but i didn’t LOL. i have a doctors appointment about it … gonna make that for thursday or friday. there was nothing better than holding my sweet boy in bed. he gets along with my brothers pretty well. pretty nice to have a bf that’s loved by brothers & vice versa. i need to learn how to heal from vacay depression bc i swear my shit goes crazy every time i’m on a family vacay

[3rensgf]

stupid/annoying, but endearing, things they do in a relationship eren, armin, jean, connie, erwin, levi, reiner, bertholdt, porco, zeke, colt, hanji, mikasa, sasha, annie, pieck

word count: 2.3k

warnings: one mention of sex in erens, reader uses makeup in jeans, mentions of injuries and dilf!reiner in reiners

notes: this is a gn!reader. there are mentions of makeup being used, but i feel like any gender can use makeup. it's not even anything serious like a beat face. just some lip gloss n mascara. chapstick too but thats not makeup. it's just one line, so you can skip over it if you would like to!

✩ eren bites you. its not even in a sexual way, he just likes to bite. they’re like a second form of kissing to him. you could be chilling together on the couch watching a movie, and he’ll just chomp on your shoulder. even when you were trying to focus on something, he swings by, bites then leaves. eren has no shame, so he does it in front of your friends too. you could be having a normal conversation with mikasa and he’ll just bite you, then the two of you carry on as if it was normal. it’s not normal. but you love it. sometimes you bite him back too. but only in private.

✩ armin gives you random things he finds. armin likes to go out and explore, with or without you. when he comes back after an adventure you opted out of, he always has something for you he found. a rock, a seashell or a cool flower are just some of the things he gets for you. if he can’t find something, he finds a gift shop to get you something instead, saying, “well, (y/n), i did find it in the gift shop.” he always looks so proud giving it to you, rambling about the story of how he found your gift. you have a small box tucked away with all the treasures he gives you.

✩ jean steals your things. whenever he comes over, he likes to mooch off your possessions. if he’s spending the night at your place and needs a shower, he’s using your shampoo, conditioner and body wash. if his lips are chapped, he swipes your lip balm to use on himself. one time you even walked in on him trying your mascara and lip gloss. another time he had your clothes on his giant frame. but he always replaces whatever he uses, venmoing you within the next few days with some cash and a sorry note. “sorry for using ur lip balm baby, buy some more <3” with $20 attached to it. you tell him that lip balm doesn’t even cost that much, but he tells you to treat yourself to lunch with the extra money.

✩ connie makes plans without letting you know beforehand. at 3am, you are woken up by an influx of messages and calls from your boyfriend. in your sleepy state you go to answer him, only to be told to get dressed and come out. he’s right outside of your house and hungry. you remind him it’s very early in the morning and you both have class. “but i’m hungry and craving burgers,” he repeats. you have no choice to get in the car with him. this can happen throughout the day, not just early in the morning. one time he whisked you away in the middle of your online class because he didn’t tell you he bought tickets to a movie showing in 30 minutes. the memories you share on these spontaneous dates are always your favorite ones with him.

✩ erwin buys you whatever you like in bulk. it’s not even an exaggeration when you say bulk. you mention one thing to him, and the next day there are boxes upon boxes sitting on your kitchen counter. “these oranges taste pretty good,” you mumble to yourself as you peel your 2nd one. erwins sharp ears hear this, and first thing in the morning he’s off to buy multiple bags of your supposed favorite oranges. it takes you days, sometimes weeks, to finish whatever he decided to buy you. you always tell him he doesn’t need to buy so much, but he never listens. though, you always appreciate how attentive he is to your likes and dislikes.

✩ levi cleans up for you and ruins your organization. it’s always a blessing when someone else decides to take on the burden of cleaning for you, and you thought you hit the jackpot with a boyfriend who loved to clean, clean, clean. but it could get annoying when you suddenly couldn’t find anything you placed anywhere. if you’re anything like me, you’re messy but organized. you know where things are. when levi comes to clean, he places things where he thinks they should go. you’re sent on a wild goose chase looking for your pencil case, only for it to be in a completely different drawer than the one you usually kept it in. despite this behavior, it’s always nice to come home from a long day from school to see your desk organized. what was once a mess of papers and other supplies have been filed into their correct places, the table wiped down from any lingering coffee stains and your supplies being organized in a way so you knew where everything was. sometimes there’d be a plate of fruit with the note, “good luck on your exams,” written in your boyfriends neat writing beside it.

✩ reiner coddles you too much. whenever you express any sort of discomfort, reiner is always rushing to your side. “are you hurt? do you need medical attention? how many fingers am i holding up?” he asks, checking you for any cuts or bruises. thank you, honey, but i’m fine. just bumped into the counter. despite that, he’s dragging you over to the bathroom to fix up your imaginary injuries. you always find it a bit much when you’re fine. it’s during the times where you’re actually hurt where you learn to appreciate it. he’s so gentle cleaning your cuts, kissing them softly once they’re dressed. you wonder if he’d be like that with your future children.

✩ bertholdt is too nervous around you. it’s been years since the two of you got together, and he still refuses to make eye contact with you. his hands get sweaty and shake when you attempt to hold his hand. he always stumbles over his words when speaking to you as he tries to find the right words to say. he even blushes when he introduces you to other people as his significant other! you remind bertholdt over and over again that he doesn’t need to be so shy around you. but you cant help but coo over him showing up for your date, flustered mess and thrusting flowers into your hand. “they reminded me of you,” he said quietly, refusing to meet your eyes. you giggle and press a kiss to his hot cheeks.

✩ porco is too cocky for his own good. he’s always parading around the house, boasting about his latest achievements. he beat colt in a video game colt was a supposed god in. he can throw a baseball farther than zeke. he can run faster than pieck. if he’s taller than you, he's always making fun of you for being shorter than him. if you’re taller, you’re not exempt from his wrath either. he’s boasting about how he’s perfect height to not hit his head on doorways. he never goes as far as to hurt your feelings, always knowing when to stop. though he has a big ego, he would let it crash and burn just to see you smile after beating him at smash bros. you laugh and taunt him, happy you beat him in one thing. he doesn’t mind, instead watching you with a soft smile on his lips and love in his eyes.

✩ zeke forces you to work out with him. and it’s not like in the afternoon to help you stretch out. it’s not light yoga or a couple minutes on the treadmill. no, this man wakes you up at ass crack in the morning to take you on a 5 mile hiking trip. you barely have any time to register what is happening around you before you’re already standing at the start of the trail with your gear. “come on! we can’t slack off!” he says, clapping his hands together. the sun is beating down on you and your feet hurt, but this man doesn’t let you stop for a break. “we’re almost there,” he says. your complaining goes out the window when he shows you the view at the top. its one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. hiking up long ass trails to see beautiful views with your boyfriend was so worth it in the end.

✩ colt accidentally turns your dates into babysitting sessions. you show up at his house with the promise of a good time, only to be met with a guilty looking colt and his little brother falco behind him. “sorry,” he says sheepishly, “gabi got sick with the cold, so i couldn’t drop him off there. i hope you don’t mind him staying.” you hide your disappointment behind a wide smile, nodding enthusiastically as to not hurt either of their feelings. you just wanted to spend some alone time with your boyfriend, and it would have to wait. hanging out with falco wasn’t actually that bad. the three of you had an amazing time together, watching tv, playing games and even baking together. if you hate kids, you can’t bring yourself to hate falco; he’s just the sweetest boy you’ve ever met. you and falco are already asking colt when the three of you can hang out again when you have to go back home.

✩ hanji is always talking. you don’t discourage them from talking about their interests. they’re very passionate about the things they love, and can’t help talking about them. its like the scene where hanji kept eren up all night talking about titans. when you’re trying to focus on something or go to sleep, hanji is just yapping away. you’re honestly amazed at their ability to never run out of things to say about the most mundane things. hell, one time they talked for an hour and a half about a building color they saw when they were out one day. but hanji just looked so happy when talking. their face would break out into a huge grin, and their arms would fly around as they told their story. it was too cute for you to tell them to stop.

✩ mikasa hovers too much. every corner you turn, every place you go to, mikasa is following. she claims she’s not clingy, but in reality she is. it’s like a cat who hates affection, but needs to be in the same room as you at all times. you don’t mind her following you into the bedroom or living room or kitchen. you had to draw a line when she tried to follow you into the bathroom. even when you’re out, she’s always following you around. you tell her it’s okay to break off from you and spend some time by herself, but she always shakes her head and follows you to your next destination. you’re always grateful for her hovering when a group of drunk people try hitting on you, whistling and telling you they’ll give you a good time. but one look at your girlfriend who showed up from out of nowhere, and they’re running away with their tails between their legs.

✩ sasha eats your food. she can’t help it. she likes to snack. she’s always hungry. and you get that. to stop things like this from happening, you have separate places to keep your food. just so sasha and you have your favorite snacks and takeout separated. you respect the rule, but your girlfriend seems to lose her reading skills when hungry, one too many times you have walked in on her with her hand deep into a bag of your chips, something you’ve been waiting to eat all week when you were supposed to watch that new horror movie on netflix with her. you huff and puff and retreat to your bedroom. sasha comes back after a few hours, looking upset with tons and tons of snacks in her arms. “i’m sorry i ate your chips,” she frowns. she sets down all the food she got on your bed. “i got all these snacks you liked as an apology. and 3 bags of your favorite chips.” you could never stay mad at her cute face.

✩ annie complains about spending time with you. “i like my alone time,” she says, brushing you off when you asked why she didn’t want to watch a movie with you. some people were introverted, preferring to spend time by themselves rather than with someone else. you were like that too; you had your moments where you didn’t feel like being around your girlfriend. but it became an annoying problem when she constantly shot down your attempts to hang out with you. when she finally agrees, she’s always finding something to complain about. but during important dates or when you’re not in the best mood, she’s always the first to remind you or initiate a hang out/date. she shuts her mouth and enjoys her time with you, not one criticism or groan leaving her lips. she would never admit it, but being around you made her so happy.

✩ pieck is always sleeping. you have to wait a few hours to get a text or call back from pieck because she’s always dozing off somewhere. “sorry sweets,” she yawns into the mic, “was taking a nap. need something?” good luck trying to reach your girlfriend during an emergency. when you come home with takeout for dinner because neither of you wanted to cook, she’s sleeping at the dinner table. when you’re watching a movie she wanted to watch, she’s snoring away, curled up at the end of the couch. during lectures you share together, she has her head in her arms and has the audacity to ask you for your notes in the end. and it’s not like she’s not getting enough sleep, no. she gets her recommended 8 hours of sleep and then some. it’s nice to have a sleepy girlfriend, though, when you’re dead tired from living. you drag your feet into the bedroom to see her about to take her nth nap for the day. she notices your zombie-like state and opens up her arms for you. the two of you cuddle and nap together, sleeping the stress away.

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[xpeachesncream]

2AM | one shot

summary: just like yoongi says - if namjoon wasn’t gonna act on his feelings for you, then why couldn’t you? even if that meant sliding into namjoon’s DMs.

pairing: reader x namjoon

genre: college au | sprinkle of fluff, smut

words: 3.8k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, club scene, alcohol consumption, dancing/grinding, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, breast play, hickeys, oral (f. receiving), cum eating, ass smacking, doggy style, hair pulling, headboard knocking against the wall and head to the mattress type of rough sex, pillow to the face type of loud sex, backshots, namjoon is a kind fella though and really respects you

note: i’ve been hearing namjoon is/has become people’s bias wrecker lately..... 🤪 this is for you. i’ve tried to make this as realistic and relatable as possible. pls excuse any errors!

The club was awfully packed tonight, you and your friends and a bunch of all your mutual friends tightly pushed against one corner of the club, celebrating whoever's birthday it was - you couldn't fucking remember. You were just there because you knew of the person, but your friends still dragged you out to have a good time.

And, God, you were drunk. You were having a good time. You were already drunk before the club, having pissed on the sidewalk with Yoongi covering you with his jacket while Jin pissed next to you in the alley since there were no bathrooms open to the public at this time.

"Namjoon is here!" You hear Yoongi yell and nudge you. Namjoon had always had a crush on you. You two were friends, had a lot of mutual friends, but it was nothing more of a hi and bye in passing on campus. Occasional small talk, nothing more, nothing less. But, it didn't mean you didn't think he was attractive. Standing almost at 6 ft tall, the man was buff in all the right places and had a smile that could kill from miles away. You just never pressed on it because Namjoon never pressed on it. People teased him about his silly crush on you but he never took it further. He'd call you the prettiest girl he'd ever seen on campus, leaving anonymous comments on the campus' compliment board talking about how your smile was the best one he's ever seen. Everyone knew it was Kim Namjoon. But it was just a silly crush after all, right?

Tonight though, you were thinking of doing other things. Maybe it was this dick drought you had been in, maybe it was the alcohol heightening your attraction to him. Whatever the fuck it was, you wanted it and you were down.

"Aye!" Namjoon comes over to Yoongi and Jin, giving them their daps and hugs before he makes his way over to you. "What's up, Y/N?" He pulls you into a tight hug. 

"Hey! Didn't think you'd be here." You chuckled.

"Why not? I like to have fun every so often, too." You nod. It's not like Namjoon hated going out, but he did have a preference of staying in than being at the club. He wasn't at every outing or club event. He'd make it to some if it was really important to his friends, but he'd usually skip out and he'd be teased about it the following week. You liked that about him; that he wasn't the type to be a partier or spend his free time chugging on alcohol. He was one of the smartest guys on campus who was pretty well known and he carried himself well. Dude could run for president and he’d have everyone’s votes, no cap.

"Well, I'm glad you're here."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that you're glad I'm here." He joked with that smile of his, dimples piercing his cheeks before he continued his rounds of hello's.

"Well, I'm glad you're here." Jin fluttered his eyelashes as he swung back and forth, mocking your tone in tiny causing Yoongi to laugh.

"Fuck off, Seokjin." You shove him.

"Why don't you finally do something about it? You know he likes you.”

"Why does it have to be me?"

"Why can't it be you?" Yoongi asked. "Does the dude always have to make a move?"

"Yeah, and besides, what if he's only doing that because he respects you and thinks you don't like him like that?" Jin butted in.

"I didn't asked to be attacked." Yoongi shrugged.

"Just saying. It doesn't have to be on Namjoon. Maybe he's waiting on you. Don't slip up, fool." He jokes as you shake your head, leading your friends to the bar for another drink to keep your drunkness alive. Yoongi orders three shots of nasty ass Jameson, but you take it anyways because he's your homeboy and the shit was free. He asks for another round, which you almost pass on but you catch sight of your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook.

"Pass it." Yoongi smirks as he passes you another shot glass. You take it to the neck with ease, deciding you'd deal with consequences later. You just wanted to have your fun.

"Hey." Jungkook wraps his arms around you, causing you to shrug him off and push his arms away.

"Jungkook, stop." You used to hate him. You really used to despise the guy, but it had gotten so tiring that you eventually got over it and moved on. You had a good relationship after all, you had a great freshman year even if you started off college in a relationship. But, he didn't want it after a year and a half. He wanted his college freedom, wanted to explore, wanted to get to know the incoming freshmen girls and transfers. So, he eventually stopped trying and that killed you.

But myyyy, have the tables turned. Jungkook wanted you back badly even though you've made it blatantly obvious you were over him.

"Dance with me tonight? You look good." He looks at you up and down, eyeing the tight mini skirt and crop top you had on.

"Maybe.” You look at him like he was crazy. “I'm busy."

"With who?"

"Not with you."

"Come on, baby. Please." Obviously drunk and out of this mind.

"Ew, don't call me that Jungkook. I am not your baby."

"Aw come on, you’ll always be though." He smiles, hugging you once more.

"You got a whole line up, remember? Stop worrying about me." You scoff as you shove him aside, making your way back to your friends.

"The fuck was that about?"

"Jungkook being Jungkook."

"He definitely wants to have his cake and eat it, too."

"Well, that's not gonna fly with me. He needs to go."

"Good. Come on, let's go dance. Maybe Namjoon will come since you don’t wanna do it. Acting all scared and shit." 

“Shut up, Yoongi. Just walk.” You laugh. Yoongi nods towards some free space, Jin already welcoming a lady friend onto his lap for a dance. You playfully dance around with Yoongi for a little before you feel him passing you off to pretty boy Park Jimin. You loved dancing with Jimin because lord knows he knew a thing or two about rhythm more than most of these men in the club. Including your friends.

Heh, just kidding.

After a song or two, the latest shots are starting to make their way through your veins, your skin feeling hot and your balance being a little thrown off. Nothing you couldn't handle though, you still knew how to compose yourself well and keep it together.

"Enjoying yourself?" You hear Namjoon come from behind you as you had been standing around by the railings, catching a breather after Jimin had broke you off to those two songs, working up a damn sweat.

"Yeah, are you?" You turn to face him as your arms hung loosely over the railing.

"I meaaaan, I think it could be better." He sips on his drink.

"Stop babysitting your drink, Namjoon." You playfully nudge him.

"I'm not babysitting, I'm just savoring this expensive drink." You roll your eyes and laugh. You watch as he takes another sip, your hand keeping his glass tilted from the end until there's nothing left for him to drink.

"There, that's better."

"You're a bad influence."

"No, I'm not."

"You are. Pretty, and a bad influence." He adds, chuckling while licking his bottom lip. It's silent for a minute as he's eyeing the crowd in front of you, watching people sloppily dance on each other or tongue each other down. Either or, everyone was drunk and feeling up on somebody.

Everyone besides you two.

"Fuck it, let's dance." He suddenly says, grabbing your hand and leading the way to the nearest empty space. He backs himself against the wall, grabbing you by the waist to throw your ass back on him. He grips you tightly as you work him, his hips moving in tandem with yours. If you weren't mistaken, you could feel this entire thing soaking your panties by the minute. The way he had taken initiative and grabbed your hand the way that he did. The way he backed himself against the wall and shoved you onto his crotch area.

You didn't know Namjoon had it in him after he had been shying away from his crush on you. Park Jimin was sliding down the dance pyramid, with Kim Namjoon quickly climbing his way to the top.

Something so innocent had turned intimate pretty quick, your body backed against his now as you slowly worked your hips to Rossi's All I Want, your hand grabbing around his neck. You felt his breath against your skin, his eyes locked on you and only you.

After a couple of dances, you turned to him, his arms still wrapped around your waist. He gave you a big, toothless smile, his dimples becoming a huge weakness for you. You being the tease that you are, gave him a kiss on the cheek before you started to pull away from his grip.

"Oh, so it's like that?" He jokes as he bites on his bottom lip, his hands slowly slipping down your wrists the more you pull away.

"I don't know, is it?"

"You tell me. Are you going to hit me up to kick it?"

"We'll see." You smirk at him before walking towards your friends, his tongue pressed against his cheek as he watches your hips sway from side to side. After tonight, you knew you wanted Namjoon and he was the goal. No if's, and's or but's.

You and your friends call it a night by the time the club is almost coming to a close. Everyone is rushing to head out and catch their Ubers, but you see no Namjoon in sight. He must have disappeared sometime during the night, and you were too busy with your friends to notice. Which, is a fucking bummer because you wanted to see him before you left, hoping it could flourish into something more than just the dances you shared with him tonight.

You just had to be a tease.

Getting home, you're a little uneasy because you're stuck on the fact that you want something more out of the night and you couldn't get that. You hesitated quite a few times, picking up your phone, then throwing it back onto your bed. Your roommate hadn't gotten home yet, the loneliness kicking in quick.

Fuck it!

You shake your head and grow some balls to hit up Namjoon to see what he was up to at damn near 2AM.

But sike, your ass doesn't even have his number.

"What the fuck, Y/N!" You groan to yourself, quickly pulling up your group chat w/ Yoongi and Jin before you change your mind.

[y/n] 1:52am: ANYBODY HAVE NAMJOON'S NUMBER???

Pure silence for the next 5 minutes.

[y/n] 1:58am: i know none of you two are getting some tonight, where tf are you!

Some more silence.

"For fuck's sake, guys." You whined as you pulled up Namjoon's IG page. Were you really gonna do this? Were you really gonna slip yourself into his DMs?

Absolutely the fuck yes.

x_ynbaby: hi

namjoooonie: :) look who it is

x_ynbaby: sorry this prob looks stupid as fuck but i just realized i didnt have your number

namjoooonie: no biggie. at least ill be able to say y/n slid in my dm's first

x_ynbaby: pls dont start

namjoooonie: how can i help you?

x_ynbaby: what are you up to?

namjoooonie: im about to get ready for bed just like you should be doing

x_ynbaby: excuse you, im grown. i can go to bed when i want lol

namjoooonie: you're grown, ey?

x_ynbaby: yeah i am

namjoooonie: cool, come show me here?

x_ynbaby: kim namjoon, what is that supposed to mean

namjoooonie: it means you come over and watch something with me that isnt pg-13, duh? take it or leave it cutie, ive got some good comedy stand-ups on my list

x_ynbaby: lol send me the address

You laughed out loud. He was so frustratingly cute that you found yourself throwing on your jacket and heading back out to grab an Uber to his place not too far from yours. His roommate was home, but he had been locked up in his room the entire time Namjoon had gotten back. He figured he was already sound asleep, so he had you quietly come up the steps, his hand holding onto yours as you tippy-toed past his roommate's door.

"Fuck, finally. What a journey." He says, shutting his door.

"You're so dramatic."

"Says the one who was like we'll see." He mocks you, batting his eyelashes and tilting his head to the side.

"Shut up. Where's your list of comedy stand-ups, huh?" He plops on his bed, patting the empty space next to him.

"Right here." He opens his macbook. "This is where all the magic happens."

"Ah, yes. The comedy stand-ups and the porn, right?"

"Yup, especially the porn." You laugh as you playfully shove him aside. He actually begins to play Dave Chapelle's Sticks and Stones, his cute laugh already erupting and echoing throughout his room. You couldn't help but laugh yourself, your body sinking closer to his. Feeling his body against yours had the heat pooling in your core, wanting more from him while you were here. "I can't believe he—" He turns to look at you, your gaze still kept on him. "What?"

"Namjoon, I know this isn't the only thing you were thinking about tonight." You say, almost at a whisper.

"It's not, but I don't wanna disrespect you in any way." He says, in typical Namjoon fashion. You shake your head, your hand on his chest as you slightly push yourself up.

"Handle me." He simply looks at you as you nod. "Handle me like you would, all bullshit aside." He hesitates a bit, his face edging closer to yours.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes. We've established that we're grown, right? Show me." You say breathily. As soon as it slips your mouth, Namjoon shoves his laptop aside to wrap his strong arms around you, allowing you to wrap your legs around his torso. He gently lays you on his bed as he keeps his lips locked onto yours. The kiss becomes messy, your tongue continuously pushing against his, the sounds of wet kisses now filling his room. You moan into his mouth as he fiddles to remove your joggers, catching a glimpse of him finally removing them and tossing it across his neatly organized room. You pulled away for a quick second to remove his shirt before he removed yours, your hands trailing down his beautiful chest.

"Fuck, taking this off." He says, aggressively unhooking your bra and throwing it off to the side to be an eyesore along with your sweats lying on the floor. You giggle as he begins to kiss down your neck and jawline, then welcoming himself to your breasts. He plays with your nipples, his thumb toying with it and gently pinching. You let out a hiss as you feel his tongue flicking around your nipples one by one, his breath causing cold air to linger on them. You watch as he begins to suck on the skin of your breasts, leaving purple-ish marks on either boob.

"Ohhhhshit." You bite onto your bottom lip, so fucking turned on by him and his ways. He makes his way down to your panties, giving your clothed clit a kiss before shoving your panties aside and licking a strip upwards. "Ahhhhh, Namjoon." You breathe.

"Uh huh?" He says, lowering his mouth onto your clit, sucking as his tongue caressed it slowly at the same time. His mouth and tongue are continuing to work in tandem while he slips in two digits, working them in and out to stretch you out.

"Yeah, like that." You moan, your hand is gripping his hair tightly as you jut your hip upwards. Namjoon does a good job holding you down, even as your high approaches. "Ughhhhhhgggfuck!" Your words mesh together as you try to jut your hips upwards once more before you feel yourself unraveling under his grip. You tremble as you coat his fingers, moaning loudly and not giving a damn about his sleeping roommate anymore.

"Shhh, my roommate." He chuckles as he towers over you, careful not to put all his body weight on yours.

"I'm sorry but, gohhhhd." You whine. "Please just fuck me, I wanna feel you." He bites onto his bottom lip, watching you twirl your tongue around his wet digits and suck on them, giving yourself a good taste of your pussy.

"Stop." He tilts his head back and shakes his head. "You're gonna make me cum just doing that."

"What's wrong with that?"

"I haven't gotten to feel you, yet. That's what." He says as he removes his beautifully long and thick hardened member from his boxers, his sweats dropping to the floor from his ankles. He pumps himself a few times before he taps it against your folds, teasing you with his tip as he slides it up and down.

"Namjoon, I swear—" You arch your back, feining for more.

"You swear, or what?" He asks playfully, his tip the first to slowly enter inside of you. Your breathing hitches the deeper he goes in, literally having you question whether or not you were gonna be able to take him. "You okay?" You nod silently as you try to position yourself comfortably on him, Namjoon letting out a small groan as he feels you fully envelope him from wall to wall. He starts slow, making sure you were comfortable before he begins to pick up his pace. You grip the sheets as he begins to get aggressive with you, his headboard endlessly knocking on his wall.

He apparently doesn't give a fuck about his roommate either. And here he was, shushing you.

You begin to moan his name loudly, feeling the high approaching you once again.

"Y/N." He whispers, chuckling. He [politely] throws his pillow onto your head, signaling for you to hold onto it and scream into it if need be. Which, you do. "Fuuuck Y/N, you're so hot." He moans under his breath as his thrusts are fast, the sound of skin pounding against skin bouncing off of his walls.

"Joon, I'm cumming again." You moan into the pillow as he slows his thrusts for you, letting out breathy moans as he feels you constricting around him.

"Turn around." He says, you quickly obeying, shooting your ass up with your face down. You wiggle your ass onto his dick, causing him to slightly hiss. He inserts his tip in but allows you to sink onto him yourself. "Godddddamn." He moans as you begin to move your body up and down on his dick, cream lathering the top of it like icing. He gives your ass a good smack, the heat pooling to the area quickly. One hand grips your hips, while the other grips your hair and slightly tugs on it as he takes control and thrusts into you.

"Fuck! Namjoon." You groan as he pulls your hair. Your ass is bouncing off of him, the pain turning into pleasure. Your mouth is agape, no sounds being able to escape as he pounds into you.

"Shit Y/N, I'm gonna cum. Where do you want me to cum?"

"Backshot." You simply say, Joon fully understanding. With the last couple of thrusts, you find yourself constricting around him again, body getting weak and trembling back down into the sheets. His hand pushes your head into the mattress while the other pulls out and pumps his hardened dick, lathering your back in his load. You feel him almost collapse onto you, his hand holding onto your hip as he regulates his breathing.

"Fuck, I am so sorry." He says, grabbing a tissue to wipe your back.

"Why are you sorry?" You laugh as you turn over afterwards.

"It just makes me feel bad, I feel like I'm marking my territory or something."

"I meaaaaaaan." You say, Namjoon's eyes going straight to your breasts.

"Agh fuck, Y/N." He says, feeling bad as he slips on his clothes before handing you yours.

"It's not a big deal.

"I just want you to know that I do value you more than just my territory or whatever that means." He shakes his head. "Fuck, I just mean I value you more than that, okay?" You giggle.

"You're fine, Joon." He smiles toothlessly as he nods, feeling accomplished having gotten his point across.

"So, more comedy stand ups?"

"Boy, you wore me out. I'm going to sleep."

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back, gonna grab us water. Can I get you anything else?"

"No, thank you." You smile as he shuts his door. You check your phone from your night stand seeing that your friends had finally texted you back.

[yoongi] 2:47am: woops, shit hahahah did you still need it?

[yoongi] 2:47am: and fuck off ok, what if i was getting some?

[jin] 2:49am: he's not. we're not. we just finished playing phasmaphobia thats why we responded late

[yoongi] 2:49am: youre an ass kisser seokjin

[jin] 2:50am: i think y/n is already at namjoons

[yoongi] 2:51am: better tell us about it tomorrow bro @ y/n

[jin] 2:52am: have fun be safe

[y/n] 3:30am: you guys get home from the club and play phasmaphobia? thats why you guys get none

[jin] 3:31am: r u at namjoons or not, this wasnt even about us

[y/n] 3:32am: yes and just got dicked down like the world was ending tomorrow

[yoongi] 3:33am: .........

[yoongi] 3:33am: .......................

[jin] 3:34am: 'whyyyyy does it have to be me' she said

[jin] 3:34am: dick mustve gotten your tongue now

[y/n] 3:35am: Error: 404. This number could not be reached at this time. Try again later.

[jin] 3:36am: lmfao weak, you'll hear from us later today missy

You chuckled to yourself as you heard Namjoon nearing the door. Suddenly, you hear another door open, his roommate's voice faintly echoing in the hallway.

"Dude, can you and your girl be any louder?"

"Sorry Hobi, I thought you were asleep."

"That's the thing, I was." Namjoon laughs.

"Oh shit, my bad. We'll keep it down next time." You watched as he nodded before closing the door. You laughed silently as he handed you a water bottle, scooting himself next to you.

"Yeah Namjoon, be quiet next time."

"Me? You had a pillow and you were still loud."

"Not my fault. Didn't even know you had it in you." You teased.

"What's that even supposed to mean?" He scoffed before gently tickling you.

"It's just, I thought you were forgetting about your little crush on me."

"Want me to show you again?"

"I'm sleep, bye." You laughed as you turned over, your ass comfortably touching his leg while he laid next to you and watched his show.

[icequeenbae]

Stay with Me (m) | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Long-distance relationship, established relationship, grumpy Baek, smut

Warnings: explicit content, unprotected sex, upset sex (is there such a thing), oral (f receiving), consent is not explicitly stated but implied

Word Count: ~2.6k

Summary: Baekhyun was upset because you had to leave again. His frustration made things escalate to an unexpected extent. He might’ve just wanted to make you late for the plane though.

© Please do not copy/ post on other platforms without permission.

Let’s celebrate my first ‘writing comeback’ anniversary together ❤❤❤  [February 17, 2020 – forever]

Author’s Note: Soooo… This was actually the first fic I wrote after many years of my writer’s coma. Wasn’t going to post it, but it’s important to save the date. A year ago during a business trip I was listening to Baekhyun’s ‘Stay Up’ in the backseat of a cab, and it suddenly got to me in a very new and profound way. As soon as I got to the hotel, the doc was created. Countless sleepless nights later, I can admit that I haven’t really stopped writing ever since.

Baekhyun isn’t just my bias or my favourite character to write, he’s so much more special to me than that. I’m not sure how long this journey is going to last or where it leads me, but so far he’s gifted me with one full year of this magic. He’ll always have a precious spot in my heart 🤍

Okay, done with the sappy times now (no). As usual – big thanks to @baekshoney​​​ for having a look, and I hope you guys enjoy this little oneshot!

This was one of those days. One of the days you hated, and Baekhyun didn’t do much to make it better for you. On the contrary, he was sulking since early morning. First, because you’d left him alone in bed and he woke up being cold. Then he just kept getting annoyed with everything. Why were you having coffee for breakfast again, when you should sleep on the plane? Why weren’t you packing snacks, when the airport food always made your stomach upset? You should’ve definitely worn one of his hoodies, since none of yours were warm and comfy enough, did he have to remind you?

Yes, this was the day you had to fly back home, leaving him behind once again. Which was exactly what brought his tsundere ways to the surface. He was just… upset.

‘Baby, it’s not the first time I’m going home, I’ll be fine,’ you grinned at his grumpy expression and poured him a cup of coffee as soon as he sat his butt down on the kitchen stool.

Baekhyun wasn’t exactly subtle in how he felt about you going away. The two of you had been doing this ‘long-distance thing’ since the very beginning of your relationship. You’d met during your first ever trip to Korea around two years ago and instantly clicked – just like that – not spending a single day without at least a quick message exchange with one another.

It was tough at times. There was no way for you to see each other more frequently, and you were often apart for months. Granted, you were keeping in touch religiously – texting every single day, having video calls every other night (whenever you could manage the schedules and time zones), posting ambiguous pictures on social media only for each other to understand. Still, you missed each other so terribly…

‘I don’t understand why you have to go anyway, you can just stay here with me,’ Baekhyun grumbled, eyeing the kitchen floor with a frown. You pursed your lips to contain the coo about to fly out of your mouth at how cute he was, pouting and complaining. Like an angry little bird. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out your hand and ruffled his already messy bedroom hair.

The way his nose scrunched up meant he wasn't in the mood to be playful. You sighed and leaned on the corner of the kitchen table.

‘You know I have work to get back to, Bae, I can’t be on vacation all year long.’

He was being rather childish about your departure, especially when you were already fully dressed and ready to go. The only thing stalling you was that Chanyeol, who insisted on being your ride to the airport today, hadn’t come to pick you up just yet, giving you some time to smooth over your boyfriend’s feathers.

Truth be told, you were only holding up the appearances for him. It was very possible that you were even more upset about having to go than he was. In fact, every time your week or two together were nearing an end, you felt nauseous at the thought that you wouldn’t be able to see his face, or hold his hand, or feel his warm breath on your skin, or kiss the tiny mole on his cheek.

In all honesty, you were... a mess. You only displayed yourself as calm and collected during your goodbyes because you knew his moodiness was merely a tactic to conceal his pain. So, you tucked your own feelings away to make it a bit more manageable for him. In reality, you broke down as soon as you arrived home and walked into your lifeless apartment. Each time, you had to find excuses and avoid talking to him via video messengers during those initial weeks, pretending to suddenly be swamped at work. You realized that seeing your eyes all red and puffy from crying every night would most definitely break his heart and worsen his longing. That you knew, because seeing him unhappy was excruciating. You wanted more than anything to deliver him from any further suffering.

It took all of your self-restraint not to reach out for his warm embrace or let the tears flow freely. He’d probably not let you go then, always telling you to just stay with him anyways. But you were both adults and had commitments, although hundreds and thousands of miles apart.

As your eyes were beginning to prick from observing his state and getting overwhelmed with your own feelings, you decided it was safer to move out ten minutes early, despite the call from Yeol not coming through yet. Anything to not let Baekhyun see you cry or cling to him desperately the way you wished to in that moment.

‘Well, you can pout all you want, I’m going to get my stuff,’ you said in an airy tone trying to elevate his mood slightly.

‘No.’

He stopped you in your tracks, grabbing your wrist. You gazed at him, confused as to what he meant. He was still looking down, eyebrows knitted together and chest heaving with almost anxious breaths.

‘Bae?’

‘No,’ he repeated, softer this time, but still not making eye contact with you. Instead, he tugged at your wrist and pulled you closer to him. You felt his grasp weaken until your wrist was free, however, your waist was not. His arms snaked around it, and he pulled you into himself, basically nuzzling his face into your chest.

‘Baekhyun?’ You squeaked, doing your best to fight off the goosebumps that littered your skin immediately after the contact. Your body never once asked for permission to react to him, and this time was no exception. His right hand traveled down your spine to the curve of your ass as his nose nudged one of your breasts. You shivered, grabbing at his shoulders, and he suddenly growled, knowing, sensing that your nipples had already perked up underneath the fabric of your bra.

Although he was trying to put you into one of his many oversized hoodies all the time, it was summer, so you were wearing a sundress (like any sane person would). Lucky for Baekhyun, this type of clothing made it even easier for him.

He rose from his seat and hoisted you up so abruptly that you only managed to yelp and grab at his neck for balance. You were then placed on the empty side of the dining table away from the leftover breakfast. Looking down at where your boyfriend’s hands were, you watched him frantically pull your dress up, before coming to your senses and trying to stop him.

‘Bae… What are you doing? Yeol is gonna be here any minute, we can’t just f…ugh!’ You cried out in surprise as he yanked your hips forcefully up to his face, completely ignoring your words. There’s no way he was going to...

‘Baekhyunie, please stop, you know I’m going to be late, what is…’ He didn’t even let you finish your rant, leaving a trail of insistent wet kisses upon the sensitive skin along the panty line while leading up to your protruding hip bone. Breath caught up in your throat, you couldn’t get the rest of the sentence out even if you wanted to. Did you really want to? With his head right there between your thighs, his dark burning eyes looking at you – completely immobilized by him – in the most intense and intimate way possible. His lips were glistening after he ran his tongue over them habitually, and when he leaned in and licked at your still clothed center, you belatedly realized that you weren’t even breathing. The realization only came with the wheezing gasp you’d let out, when your legs wrapped around his head as if on cue. Like fuel to the fire, your responsiveness only spurred him on. You didn’t even have time to realize that your boyfriend had already moved your panties out of the way when his impatient lips were on you again.

‘B- Baekhyun…’ You muttered, reaching your hand down to give pushing his head away a feeble try. ‘We can’t do this now, please stop... the airport…’

His ears seemed deaf to your reluctant pleas as he only employed more of his tongue to make you lose the last bits of your sober mind completely, melting and thrashing underneath his touch. He eased one of your thighs off of his shoulder, pushing it up and spreading you out before diving back in, paying no attention to your increasingly disheveled state.

At this point you could only sob, speech incoherent, all attempts to push him away or close your legs futile. And that alone made him grow feverish with the need to be inside you, to feel you once again before he had to let you go.

He was really good with his mouth, as usual, so by the time one of his hands left your thigh to tease you a little further with his long deft fingers you were so ready to take more that you barely registered the burn of two digits sliding inside. You were still a little sore from the night before, which you’d spent making love for hours on end, knowing that you won’t be touching each other anytime soon. But that was meaningless now.

His tongue expertly swirled around your clit, while his wrist found a familiar angle that always made you get vocal. Your back arched instantly as you cried out his name, barely grasping that you were still tugging at his soft locks and possibly causing discomfort. It was clear that your release was mere seconds away with your legs shaking and inner muscles clenching, and that was exactly where Baekhyun wanted you. Aching for his touch, needing him as much as he needed you. Just the two of you, caught up in the act of lustful desperation.

He’d worked his tongue diligently, almost pushing you over the edge by sucking on your most sensitive spot for just a second, and... then you suddenly felt him pull away.

‘No, no- what?’ You could barely form sentences, let alone complain, but your frenzied tone made his already rock-hard flesh twitch. His pants were down in seconds, and there wasn’t even a thought of pausing to get a condom on or cool off a little bit. You were both on the verge of getting overwhelmed by this passionate longing when... your phone suddenly lit up, indicating an incoming call. Before you could snap out of the moment you were having, Baekhyun had you flat on your back, all slick and ready for him to push inside. And that he did — in one quick and rough movement, filling you up and giving you no time to even make a sound before his hips tested you out with a couple of low amplitude thrusts. The table moved slightly, soft clanking of tableware falling on deaf ears. Meanwhile, Baekhyun grabbed onto your hips, lifting your ass in the air for more control over the penetration.

‘Baek, I swear… You have like 2 minutes before Chan-’ A vicious thrust reached further than before, definitely getting your friend’s name out of your mind for good. And anything else for that matter.

Baekhyun snapped his hips as if he wanted to get as deep as humanly possible, as if he wanted to literally ruin you, and you could only scratch at his forearm while losing yourself in the feeling of his hips colliding with yours and the delectable sounds the action produced.

‘Baby,’ Baekhyun suddenly breathed out hoarsely, eyebrows knitted together as if in pain, ‘I can’t hold it off-’

Hearing his voice so strenuous and somehow vulnerable, you threw your head back and closed your eyes, spreading your legs further apart to allow him to better angle his powerful thrusts.

Your limbs were starting to grow numb and the veins on your neck popped when you moaned, and that’s when Baekhyun let out a strained ‘ah’, holding you in place by the hips to give you his erratic final thrusts.

In that moment you felt like something snapped inside you. Your core was tight around your lover’s cock, your body shaking in pre-orgasmic bliss, and you’d never experienced it this way. You felt so full and content in this moment when he was still moving his hips and groaning stiffly above you, riding out his high. There was nothing else he needed to do to take you along. The sensation of his warmth inside you made you pulsate, wailing so loudly that Baekhyun had to cover your mouth with his palm. He kept going for a bit to prolong your orgasm and let you slowly come back to your senses.

Your eyes stared vacantly at the kitchen ceiling and your throat was dry, although Baekhyun’s hand was still clasped over your mouth. When both of you managed to catch your breath, you just gazed at each other for a few long moments. You were so spent that you couldn’t even read the semi-blank expression on his face. He slowly slipped his palm off of your face, still hovering over your body.

‘Baekhyunie…’ You murmured, touching his cheek gently. He was usually lowkey annoyed whenever you went on to kiss the little mole on his face instead of his lips. This time, however, he only lowered his head further to let you do your thing. You pressed your lips to the tiny dot on his skin, leaning back onto the table to find his eyes with your own.

‘I love you,’ he suddenly whispered in a broken voice, then cleared his throat and started over. ‘I really want you to stay with me.’

It was… bittersweet.

You winced, feeling him pull out, and accepted his help sitting up. Holding your boyfriend close by the shirt, you nudged his nose with yours and looked up to his sad dejected eyes.

‘I know, Bae,’ your voice sounded as uplifting as you could manage. ‘I will find a way to come see you on tour in the next couple of months, I promise.’

Baekhyun was about to say something else if not for the sudden ring of his phone that made both of you snap out of your tiny little world.

‘Dang, I bet it’s Yeol. Pick up!’ You pushed your boyfriend towards the phone and eased down from the table, grabbing the tissues to clean up quickly.

‘Yes,’ Baekhyun responded.

‘Are you two fucking?!’ Your nose scrunched up at Chanyeol’s vulgar shout.

‘Yes?’ At this you paused and smacked Baekhyun’s pec for the shameless (yet truthful) response. ‘Whoa- feisty. Chanyeol-ah, better hang up before you hear her- Ow!’ He raised an arm to defend himself from your playful hits.

‘You realize that if you do not come down in ten you’re most likely missing the flight?’ You heard Chanyeol reply after a frustrated sigh.

‘Not a problem for m-’ Baekhyun was interrupted by your yell.

‘We’re gonna be down in ten, please check the fastest routes to the airport, Yeolie!’

You ran out of the kitchen barely catching Baekhyun’s grumbling as he repeated after you.

‘Yeolie. Why the hell does she even call you that. It’s not like you- What? Shut up, you bastard!’

You smiled to yourself. At least his friends knew how and when to mess with him. If you weren’t there… They got him. He'd be okay. And with that you were happy for now.

A/N:This piece was my reintroduction to writing, and I’d love to hear any type of comments you have^^  Thank you guys for all the interaction and amazing responses so far, I cherish each and every one of them. You're the best <3

[asweetprologue]

my burden to bear

@sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Prompt: Piggyback Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier Rating: Gen Content Warnings: None Summary: Jaskier gets hurt during a hunt and Geralt has to carry him back to town. Jaskier has mixed feelings about this. ao3

“You’re hurt,” Geralt said. Jaskier groaned from his position on the ground, more at Geralt’s tone than any amount of pain.

“I think I’m fine,” he said, pushing himself up into a sitting position. When they’d come to the woods, they’d been working under the assumption that the creature plaguing the nearby village was nothing more than an overactive godling or maybe a hag. Neither of them had been expecting a leshen, and no amount of staying back from the fight did any good when your opponent could sense your location through the ground. While Geralt was valiantly slaying the beast, Jaskier had been darting away from roots shooting up from the ground and attempting to impale him. They’d not succeeded, but they had managed to send him sprawling as he tripped over an exposed root. He’d feared he was done for when suddenly the writhing plant life had collapsed. Though he was pleased to be still in one piece, his ankle throbbed traitorously where the root had tugged his feet out from under him. 

Geralt narrowed his eyes suspiciously and offered him a hand up. 

Jaskier took it and allowed himself to be pulled to standing, only to stumble as soon as he put weight on his left leg. Geralt caught him as his knees buckled, one hand snapping out to grab him by the elbow. Jaskier’s face lit up, heat spilling over his cheeks in an embarrassed flush. “Ah, shit,” he cursed. 

“Hmm,” Geralt agreed, looking down at the offending appendage with a stormy expression. “No Roach.” 

“So true,” Jaskier said morosely. They’d left Geralt’s trusty steed behind for this venture, as the brush was generally too thick for her to navigate. The village was a good mile or two away. Jaskier’s ankle seemed to throb even more intensely at the thought of the walk. “Well, nothing for it I suppose. I’ll manage.” He tried to pull out of Geralt’s grasp, gingerly testing the weight on his ankle. It felt like being stabbed in the tendon with a razor, but he would be alright. He had plenty of experience limping along beside Geralt on the Path. This time it would just be a bit more literal. 

Geralt did not release him, much to Jaskier’s surprise. “You’ll make it worse,” he said, mouth tightening. Jaskier’s pulse, only just having begun to settle down now that the leshen was dead, began to rise again. Angry Geralt he was plenty used to, but angry-at-him Geralt was not something he enjoyed. They both knew that Jaskier was a liability at best on hunts, and he was well aware that he was only ever one misstep from being left behind, at least for the truly adventurous moments. He hadn’t realized it would be an actual misstep that did him in. 

“I can manage, Geralt, I swear,” he protested. “What else am I meant to do? Stay here forever? I’m sure I could make a nice home out of the leshen’s abandoned burrow. House. Whatever.”

“They don’t have those,” Geralt said dismissively. “I could get Roach.”

“Sure. So I can be eaten by the wolves that ran off when you killed the beastie. I’m sure they’ll be eager to finish the fight once the huge man with the swords fucks off. I’ll walk, it’ll be fine, I’ll -”

“I’ll carry you.”

Jaskier blinked, and then blinked again. He must have heard wrong. “Come again?”

Geralt glared at him, as if daring him to offer up a different solution. “I’ll carry you. It’s not that far of a walk, and I still have Thunderbolt in my system. It wouldn’t be hard.”

If Jaskier had thought he was flushed before, it was nothing compared to now. “Ah, well. Um. Are you certain? I suppose - I really can walk, truly -” He took a step backwards, away from the warm hand that still cupped his elbow, only to nearly drop to the ground when a bolt of pain shot up his ankle. Even his knee ached with it. Geralt caught him around the waist, hauling him upright again and, unfortunately, directly into the witcher’s space. Jaskier gasped at the contact more than the near tumble, though he hoped Geralt thought it was just the surprise. 

“I can see that,” Geralt said dryly, their nose barley inches apart. Jaskier swallowed. 

“I take your point. How, uh, how do you want to do this?”

Geralt released him, allowing Jaskier to take a deep, fortifying breath. Leaning all his weight on his good leg, he waited while Geralt turned around and knelt down on the mossy forest floor. Jaskier exhaled slowly. “Put your arms around my shoulders,” Geralt said. 

Jaskier ran a hand along his face, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “This is so infantilizing,” he grumbled, but he leaned over and pressed his chest to Geralt’s back, wrapping his arms around his broad shoulders. He was extraordinarily grateful for Geralt’s armor, separating him from the heat of his body. As it was, he still felt like he might spontaneously combust when Geralt’s large hands came up to grip under his thighs and raised him effortlessly into the air. 

Holy fuck. “Melitele,” he said, “do I weigh anything to you?”

“No,” Geralt said with an amused huff. He began to take sure steps through the clearing and back the way they’d come. Jaskier shifted to find a more comfortable position for his arms, and found that he could lift them away entirely without Geralt dropping him an inch. 

“I feel like a toddler,” he groused. 

“Next time watch your step,” Geralt grunted. 

They made their way through the forest slowly, Geralt carefully navigating the underbrush. Jaskier was aware that he was being more delicate with his footwork than he typically was, avoiding any areas that might throw him off balance or land Jaskier with a face full of branches. He was being nice, Jaskier realized, not even getting back at him for the fact that he had to carry Jaskier’s sorry ass through the woods. Always so chivalrous. 

That was Geralt though. Even when he was grumpy and upset and probably worn out from a fight, he was always going out of his way to be kind. He wasn’t always nice, Geralt, but he was almost always kind. It was a miracle, honestly, that he didn’t lose hold of his temper more often than he did. They would bicker, often, and fight, sometimes. But even when he was mad, Geralt was often still considerate, still worried about Jaskier’s safety and comfort. He was always taking absurdly underpaid jobs, even taking payment in a simple meal or a roof over his head sometimes, just because there were people in danger. This village, for example, had scraped together a tiny purse to offer a passing witcher, desperation writ on their faces. Seven people, including two children, had disappeared in the last season. It was a small village, only a little cluster of houses, and such a loss must have been felt deeply. Geralt had looked at the purse, a frown maring his features, and pushed it back into the alderman’s dirty hands. The job had ended up being even more dangerous than he’d assumed, but Jaskier knew Geralt wouldn’t take payment beyond maybe a warm loaf of bread and some hearty stew from the alderman’s wife. 

It was wildly unfair that the reputation of witchers remained so heavily tarnished. That Geralt’s reputation still suffered so. It was starting to mend - in the decade since Jaskier had begun traveling with him, the White Wolf ballads had become popular, enough so that many towns they passed through were already ready to throw their crowns and orens at his feet. But the further north they went, the closer to Blaviken, the less people were swayed by his songs. People didn’t always see what Jaskier saw. Not everyone felt the depth of affection swell in their breast at the sight of his silver hair and golden eyes, regardless of how many times Jaskier tried to put it to words. Maybe it wasn’t something he would ever be able to capture. This haunting, aching thing inside him that just loved and loved and loved Geralt of Rivia. 

He wished he could do more, more to alleviate Geralt’s pain and stress. And instead here he was, only putting more weight on his shoulders. Literally. Jaskier rested his forehead against the leather of Geralt’s armor with a sigh. That was the story of his life, though. Try to help, get in the way, get pushed aside. An infallible cycle. 

“Alright?” Geralt asked suddenly. Jaskier blinked back to himself, attempting to shake off the shroud of self pity that had settled over him. 

“Hmm?” he responded, lifting his head from Geralt’s shoulder. “Alright what?”

“I’m asking,” Geralt said. “You’re quiet. That only ever happens if you’re writing a song or you’re dying.” He paused. “It’s only your ankle?”

Jaskier huffed out a laugh, stirring the hairs at the base of Geralt’s neck. The silver strands were pulled back into a short pony, leaving the pale expanse of skin beneath exposed. Jaskier had to tamp down the swift and overpowering urge to tuck his nose into the spot just behind Geralt’s ear, to press his lips to the scar just above the line of his armor, where some monster must have gotten in a lucky hit. Forcing himself to focus, he said, “Just the ankle, I swear. I’m only thinking.”

“So it is a song,” Geralt said darkly. 

“A great ballad about how the White Wolf of Rivia once again saved a humble bard,” he agreed, eagerly latching onto the half lie. “You’ve made a bit of a habit of it.”

Geralt grunted, sounding unamused. Suddenly there was a burst of sunlight across Jaskier’s vision, warm on his face. They stepped out of the forest and onto the small dirt track that led to the village, which Jaskier could just barely see peeking out over the rise of the next hill over. The sky was a sprawling blue tapestry above them, not a cloud in sight. “I don’t like it,” Geralt said, stopping to scan the road briefly. 

Jaskier’s throat felt tight. “Saving me?”

Geralt hummed an affirmative and began walking again, towards the village. 

Jaskier let out a long breath, equal parts annoyed and hurt. “Well no one’s asking you to,” he snapped. “I know it’s, I don’t know, part of your job, but you don’t need to go out of your way.”

Geralt shook his head, nearly hitting Jaskier in the face with his short ponytail. “It’s not a fucking chore, Jaskier. I just don’t - I wish you didn’t need saving.”

“Well, you and me both,” Jaskier said. “I know you think I do it on purpose, but I don’t actually want to get in the way.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt gritted out. Truly annoyed now. “Nothing you do could keep me from doing my job.”

“Well obviously you always finish the fight, I wouldn’t imagine you’d just quit on my behalf -”

“I don’t like it,” Geralt interrupted, “because I don’t like this.” He moved one hand to Jaskier’s injured ankle, the touch feather light. Jaskier’s knees tightened automatically to hold himself in place, but it was barely necessary. Geralt was strong enough to hold him in one hand. It made Jaskier feel deeply fragile, but not necessarily in a bad way. More like something precious and delicate. Worthy of being preserved. It made his fingers tingle where they were latched together between Geralt’s collarbones, just at the base of his throat. 

“Oh,” he said, at a loss for words. “I didn’t know that it, um. Well - I’m really fine.”

“I know,” Geralt said, sounding tired and a little amused. “You always are, mostly. I still don’t like it.” He tapped a finger against the heel of Jaskier’s boot, still light, and then put his hand back to support Jaskier’s thigh. “Sometimes I forget that you’re not like witchers.”

Jaskier laughed outright at that. “I can’t imagine how you could lose track of that piece of information. I complain about my bad eyesight and sore feet daily, as you are certainly aware. I’m the same as any other human.”

“You’re really not,” Geralt said, so quiet that it almost seemed to be said to himself. Jaskier stilled at that, startled and somehow warmed by the sentiment. 

“Thank you,” he finally said. They were nearly to the outskirts of the village, where hopefully they would find a warm welcome with the alderman or another grateful peasant. They might be given a place to rest for the night, maybe a few, while Jaskier’s ankle healed. Maybe they would be asked to move along, and Geralt would let him ride on Roach for a few days, and in the evening he would give Jaskier the salve he used for bruises and pulled muscles. Maybe even rub it into his swollen foot himself.  “I’m sorry to burden you.”

“You’re not a burden, Jask,” Geralt said. Then he laughed, a dry rasp that Jaskier never tired of hearing. “Well, alright. Technically you are at the moment. But I don’t mind.” As they reached the first house, he gently set Jaskier on his feet, turning to offer support. Jaskier let him slip a broad arm around his back, Jaskier’s own stretched out across Geralt’s shoulder to grip at the rough leather there. After having Geralt’s face hidden from him on the walk back, the sudden confrontation with golden eyes and square jaw was enough to make Jaskier flustered. Their faces were close now, and it felt almost too intimate, too raw after being unable to see Geralt’s expression during the rest of their conversation. Geralt quirked a small smile at him, a fondness there that Jaskier felt echoed in his own chest. “I don’t like it when you get hurt, but I don’t mind saving you.” 

Jaskier couldn’t help but smile back, even though his heart was racing and he knew his face was flushed from their proximity. “I suppose I’ll have to let you keep doing it then,” he said, only the tiniest bit breathless. 

“Good,” Geralt said, and together they took their first steps into the village. “But for the love of the gods, at least try not to get yourself into trouble.”

Jaskier laughed even as his ankle flared with renewed pain and he spotted a few villagers stepping out of their homes, concern plastered across their faces for the injured bard. So it would be hot stew, he thought giddily, and a warm place by the fire, and Geralt would still probably rub that salve into his ankle. He could be satisfied with that. “Geralt, my dearest, just try and stop me.”

[banditnoo]

My Castle of Ships {1/2} - Merlin One Shot

Summary |  {A strange phenomenon had occurred when Arthur had been born by magic. He now had the ability to read minds. Nobody knew of his gifts. Arthur knew from a young age that sorcery was not welcomed in Camelot. With fears that his own father would banish or harm him, he kept his piece of magic to himself. A piece of magic that had become much less of a burden after he had been crowned king, and for moments like these; While he was bored and Merlin daydreamed.}

Tags | {Merthur, Magic Arthur AU, mind reader AU, Major Character Death}

Warnings | {Like one swear word? Angsty, but not as gut wrenching as 5x13}

a/n | {I’ve finally worked up the courage to post some of my writing on Tumblr! This has been cross posted to AO3 (Legendary_Julia) and Wattpad (GreaserGal19). Maybe one day I’ll get my usernames in order, but today is not that day. Part 2 will come out... at some point. This was suppose to be a stand alone story, but our boys deserve better. Thanks for checking me out, happy reading!} 

~~~

{A strange phenomenon had occurred when Arthur had been born by magic. He now had the ability to read minds. Nobody knew of his gifts. Arthur knew from a young age that sorcery was not welcomed in Camelot. With fears that his own father would banish or harm him, he kept his piece of magic to himself. A piece of magic that had become much less of a burden after he had been crowned king, and for moments like these; While he was bored and Merlin daydreamed.}

~~~

Merlin was a daydreamer, he always had been. He'd often find himself thinking of Ealdor while he puttered about Arthur's chambers. Sometimes he would imagine what it would be like to rule his own kingdom, to make his own rules. While he scrubbed away at Arthur's hunting boots, he built his own castle. The citadel would be magnificent. The walls would stand tall, glittering with a hint of magic. Beautiful tapestries would hang from every wall, depicting anything the passerby's wished. A series of tunnels would wind throughout and underneath the stone walls, eventually connecting to water. Yes, the castle would have to be by the ocean. Merlin smiled to himself as he pictured it. The birds, the sound of waves crashing against the rocky shores, and the ships. Merlin loved the idea of having ships. With a boat like that he could sail anywhere, do anything. That's what it could be, his castle of ships.

Arthur had to smile at the name. He too pictured the castle from his spot at his desk. He could only imagine the beauty of a kingdom Merlin could build with his magic. The Castle of Ships.

"Has a nice ring to it," Arthur muttered to himself, to caught up in the image to realize he had said anything aloud.

"What was that?"

"Hmm?"

"You said something."

"No, I did not."

"Yes, yo-"

"You're hearing things Merlin, go back to whatever it is you where doing. Maybe scrub a different spot before you muck up my good boots."

Arthur stood up abruptly, leaving a confused Merlin watch him briskly walk out of his chambers.

"He really has gone mad." Merlin muttered as he began to clean the other boot.

~~~

Merlin knew someone was listening. He's felt the presence in the castle for a long time, but could never quite pinpoint it. He had tried to call out many times. Perhaps there was a Druid somewhere within Camelot trying to communicate, or an evil doer with a presence too strong to ignore. But there was never an answer. He was always left alone with his thoughts, which he was slowing getting scared to think.

When the presence felt strong, Merlin would busy his mind with his daydreams. He would think of home, or add details to his imaginary kingdom.

He did his best daydreaming during round table meetings. The presence would always be strong in the throne room, the magic almost danced through the air. It was here that he added the finer details of his castle.

He constructed a grand portrait hall as Leon droned on about the months finances. The long room would have the most brilliant red carpet, lined with an intricate gold and black pattern. He could almost feel himself walking through the grand hallway as he leaned against the cold stone of the throne room walls. As he imagined himself walking along, he thought about whos portraits he would put on display. He would have his mother, of course, and Gwen, his first friend in Camelot. He could picture the cocky smirk on Gwaine's portrait and the valiant yet understanding look on Lancelot's. His eyes scanned around the round table, imagining all of his friends in their best Camelot red, striking wild poses for the artist. They eventually landed on Arthur, whose head was resting lazily against his hand, trying his best to listen to Leon. Merlin hummed to himself, placing Arthur's portrait at the end of the hallway. It would be the only place fit for his king.

He had heard once of a spell that made the portraits move within their frames, adopting the personality of its subject. He studied Arthur's face as he thought, committing every detail to memory. The way his golden hair fell across his forehead in soft wisps, and how his nose came to a gentle point, complimenting the rest of his face. His favourite feature of Arthur's has always been his eyes. A piercing blue that found him in any room they were in.

They were the same blue eyes that were staring at him now, Merlin realized, staring back, not daring to look away now. Their shared a million words with just a look, a conversation no one else would hear.

Are you as bored as I am?

When is dinner?

When will Leon stop talking?

How's the castle of ships coming?

Merlin's heart dropped. He was imagining things, right? He had to be. They weren't really talking to each other, after all. It was all in his head, somewhere Arthur most definitely was not. He was quickly becoming aware of the overwhelming sense of magic flowing through the room.

I know you're in my head. Make yourself known. I don't know what you want, but you won't be getting it.

Arthur was taken aback by the threatening tone in Merlin's voice. He hadn't realized that Merlin could sense the presence of his magic, or that he was so threatened by it. His eyes dropped quickly, looking at everything but Merlin in the corner of the room.

"Is everything alright, Sire? You looked concerned." Leon's address took Arthur by surprise. Sitting up as fast and as straight as possible, he voided his face of any emotion as he shook his head.

"Yes, yes. Everything is fine. We must ensure that patrol around the citadel continues. I've caught wind of a potential threat. A sorcerer."

"Are you sure, sire? I haven't heard of such a thing."

"Certain. I trust my sources," with a final glance at Merlin, he nodded at Leon, urging him to continue with the meeting.  

~~~

Arthur's eyes followed Merlin around his chambers. He could hear his thoughts going a mile a minute as he absentmindedly straightened the pillows on the bed.

"There is something on your mind," Arthur said, not moving his head from where it rested in the crook of his elbow, all but laying on the table.

"What makes you say that?"

"I can see it in your eyes." Their eyes connected from across the room, but Merlin looked away quickly, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again,

"Something is troubling you, and I want you to tell me. Please, Merlin, there is no need to lie."

Merlin was fighting with himself, and Arthur didn't need to be a mind reader to see it. They stayed like this, Arthur looking at Merlin and Merlin looking at the floor. They both felt the heavy magic in the room, but neither acknowledged it.

"Have you ever missed a place you've never been? A place that never really was?"

"I never took you for a philosopher, Merlin," Arthur couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face, or the fondness in his eyes, "if this is about your mother, I've told you. She is more than welcome here. I know how much you think of her."

"No, it's- that's not quite it."

'Not thinking of running away, are we?" Arthur's smile grew bigger as he spoke. He knew that's what it was, Merlin had been thinking about it for weeks. He wasn't worried, though. He knew Merlin would never leave without a goodbye, and a chance to convince him to stay. The guilty look in Merlin's eyes confirmed what Arthur already knew.

"I would never! Who would deal with your royal ass everyday if I left?"

"It's a simple fix, really. I would just have to come with you. Make sure you don't get yourself killed."

"Arthur Pendragon on the road? I don't believe it for a minute." Merlin smiled as he spoke. He imagined the two of them running away, into the castle of ships.

Many sleepless nights had allowed Merlin countless hours to add onto the castle. In the late hours of the night, he added gardens and ballrooms, imagined the wind on his face as he held tightly to the mast of a massive wooden ship. Those same nights, Arthur would lay awake in his own chambers, halfway across the castle, and imagine the beauty for himself as he listened to Merlin describe his castle grounds in a way that a child listens to his mother read a bedtime story.

"I am perfectly capable, thank you," Arthur rose form his spot at the table, making his way over to the bed and trying his best not to sound too amused, " and put some wood on the fire, would you? We've got an early morning tomorrow. We're travelling to Annis' land. She wishes to discuss the safety of both our borders villages."

"Is there a reason I was not told of this sooner?"

"It's simply business, Merlin. There's no need to worry. Get some sleep, you'll need it for the journey."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Merlin muttered as he left, shutting the door tightly.

"I heard that!"

"Go to sleep!"

~~~

The knights laughed loudly as their horses carried them down the well-beaten trail. An agreement was reached between Arthur and Annis about the protection of the border villages, making it much safer for villagers in each kingdom to travel through the border forests.

"Smile, Merlin! We're celebrating!" Gwaine gave Merlin's should a rough pat as his horse rode up alongside Merlin's. He held out a water skin, no doubt filled with ale, and gestured it towards Merlin.

"You're always celebrating, Gwaine." He took a long sip before handing back to Gwaine, nodding his thanks. He would need a drink if he was going to deal with the knights for the ride back to Camelot.

Merlin turned to his daydreams as their journey back continued. He was picturing a beautiful courtyard, lush with apple trees and all kinds of flowers, when his magic started to tingle. He hardly noticed it at first, brushing it off as the change in the wind, but the feeling kept growing stronger.

Someone was watching them.

They were just leaving Caerleon's borders through a valley, the perfect place for an ambush. Merlin looked around, uneasy. His body tensed at every little sound as the forest came into view. He was fighting with himself. If he told Arthur, would he believe him? What if it really was nothing? No, his magic wouldn't deceive him like that. He looked at Arthur, who was riding a short distance in front of him.

Merlin didn't even have to call his name for Arthur to turn around. As soon as their eyes met, a look of concern filled his face. His hand came up, signaling the group to stop. He looked toward the tree line, signaling for his men to do the same. Much to Arthur's horror, it was deathly quiet. The birds stopped chirping and the wind seemed to stop howling. The air around them was still as the group looked around.

"Did you hear something, sire?"

"No. That's exactly the issue."

"If we are quick, we can make it to the trees. Find safety in the forest."

Despite Leon's suggestion, nobody moved a muscle.

They continued looking towards the trees, before Merlin gave Arthur a hard nudge. Getting ready to tell him off, Arthur turned quickly on his horse before following his line of sight. Standing atop the rocky hills on either side of the valley were dozens of men wearing loose black and brown clothing, swords and bows drawn, pointed at the much smaller group of knights.

"AMBUSH!"

The horses started going crazy, whinnying and thrashing in an attempt to throw off the knights. Swords were drawn as the bandits began to yell, running down the hills at all angles. They were outnumbered, far too outnumbered to stand a chance against even the weakest opponents. Arthur unsheathed his sword, trying to regain control of his horse.

"Head for the trees!"

Picking off only the first attackers, it was a race between time, the bandits, and making it to the cover of the woods. Taking a sword from one of the bandits bodies, Merlin was quick to follow Arthur. With his heart pounding in his ears, he could no longer hear the commotion of the fight. He could only hope he was losing them.

~~~

Merlin's head was spinning as he stumbled through the thick underbrush of the forest. He had lost his horse when he lost sight of Arthur. He dragged his stolen sword loosely behind him as he tried to ignore the searing pain in his shoulder. The bandits had been quicker than he thought, and had much better aim than what he'd like to give them credit for. He had barely cleared the trees when the arrow struck his shoulder, no doubt coated in a poison that his mind was too foggy to identify.

Things had gone downhill very quickly after that. The sun had set what Merlin could only guess was hours ago. The forest was so dark he could hardly tell which way was up. He was ready to give up finding the others. He had wandered for hours, they could've been halfway back to Camelot by now.

Merlin had stopped for a moment, leaving heavily against a tree to try to catch his breath, weighing his options as he grimaced at the pain shooting through his arm. He stayed there for a few minutes, waiting, listening to the forest. He heard the magic in the forest as it flowed through every tree, every leaf. There were owls in the distance, and the sound of insects flying by. And footsteps? Although the sword was in his good hand, Merlin was weak as he swung blindly behind him. Hearing the dull thud of metal on metal, and a familiar grunt, Merlin dared to turn around.

"It's a good thing you've got sticks for arms," Arthur huffed out a weak laugh as he took the sword from Merlin.

When Arthur pulled him into a hug, Merlin was ready to defend himself, but he was to tired too do anything but lean into the cool metal of Arthur's chainmail. A gentle 'hmff' was all he could manage.

Arthur took Merlin by the shoulders and held him at arms length, giving him a once over. It was hard to see in the dark, but he could see the blood that coated Merlin left shoulder and arm, and now his own hand.

"I would never leave you behind! How could you think that?" Arthur sounded heartbroken as he gripped onto Merlin's good arm tightly.

"I didn't- how-"

"You didn't need to say it out loud for me to hear you."

Confusion was evident in Merlin's eyes as he scanned Arthur's face, looking for any trace of a joke, but he found nothing.

"It's you, isn't it? That presence, that magic... It's you?"

"It always has been."

The magic danced between them, like it had a thousand times before, but there was no fear behind it, not this time.

"You're hurt."

"I noticed."

Merlin leaned into Arthur's arm, trying to stay steady.

"Can you walk? Let me take you to the others. We've set up a camp, we'll be safer there."

"Only if you carry me. Like a damsel in distress."

"Absolutely not," Arthur scoffed as he picked Merlin up bridal style, slinging his good arm around the back of his neck, making sure not to move him too much.

"Hey! I was kidding, you prat! Put me down!"

"Would you rather I drag you? Quit your complaining. If your swing at me was any indication of your strength, you wouldn't have made it another step." Arthur tried to hide the growing concern in his voice. He looked down at Merlin's face, which was now rested against his shoulder, and he could tell it wasn't good. He only now got a good look at what had happened, and his heart sunk. He had had knights that couldn't recover from a wound like that, where the arrow was haphazardly ripped out in an attempt to get rid of the poison it was laced with.

"Merlin?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell me about the castle. The castle of ships. I'm sure there's parts that I've missed. I can't be in your head all the time."

Merlin smiled, closing his eyes as he shook his head against Arthur's shoulder,

"It's a stupid idea."

"It can't be that stupid, you put a lot of thought into it. Have you ever thought of becoming a storyteller?"

The laugh that came out of Merlin was short and hoarse, but Arthur needed him to keep talking. They were still a long walk away from the camp, and Arthur was willing to do anything to get Merlin there alive.

"I didn't realize I had such a way with words."

"Please?"

"What would you like to hear about, my lord."

"I won't hesitate to drop you."

Merlin let out another laugh, much rougher than the last one, that quickly turned into a fit of heavy, wet coughing. Arthur continued to walk, the only sound being his boots hitting the ground for a long time before Merlin began to speak.

"The grand hall, it would stand alone from the rest of the castle. It would have a long, stone pathway for guests to walk along as they gathered for feasts and balls. It would be lined with rose bushed and allium flowers, the dark purple ones."

There was another coughing fit before he continued, "the double doors, they would be engraved. With dragons, fairies, things of magic. Did you know your shoulder isn't very comfortable?"

"I wouldn't imagine, with it being covered in armor and all. Tell me about the boats. They are my favourite part."

"What about them? I've never seen a ship, only the pictures in Gaius' books. They're fascinating, aren't they?"

He could hardly finish his sentence before he started coughing again. It shook through his whole body, making him ache.

"Come on, Merlin. Keep talking. Give me something, a thought, anything. It's not long until we'll be back with the knights. Elyan will fix you right up. Good as new, right?"

Merlin gave a weak smile, "good 's new..."

"Why do you find ships so interesting? They are just big, fancy boats."

Arthur could hear Merlin's thoughts, still going a mile a minute despite him thinking almost nothing at all.

" 's exactly it. They're big, they're fancy."

"Is there a spell for that? Could you create one?"

"A spell for what?"

"Building things. Constructing this castle, making ships."

"I'm sure I could figure it out."

Merlin shifted in Arthurs arms, trying to make himself more comfortable before hissing out in pain and trying to reach for his shoulder.

"Are you trying  to bleed out? Quit moving!"

Arthur's words came out harsher that he intended, though there was sadness in his voice. Merlin continued to wiggle until Arthur dropped his legs. Keeping one hand around Merlin's waist, he used his other hand to keep a firm pressure on his shoulder. Against Merlin's protest and Arthur's better judgment, they continued walking through the dark.

"We're not going to make it in time." Merlin was leaning heavily into Arthur's side, barely keeping his footing at he stumbled over another tree root.

"We're going to make it. You're not going dying on me now Merlin. That's an order."

"When have I ever listened to those?"

Merlin stopped walking, forcing Arthur to stop next to him. Letting himself fall to his knees, he landed with a small 'thump' on the cold ground, the blanket of pine needles and leaves welcomed him. Arthur lowered himself after him, keeping one hand at Merlin's side, his other hand reached out to rest against Merlin's cheek, keeping his head steady as he closed his eyes.

"Keep your eyes open Merlin. Come on, looks at me. Say something."

"Remember my story, won't you? You've heard me tell it a thousand times. Built that castle of ships. For me?"

"I won't build it unless your there to see it. Open your eyes, Merlin, please." Arthur felt hot tears roll down his face as he looked at Merlin. His friend, his best friend, his only friend, was going to die.

Merlin opened his eyes slowly, only getting them halfway opened before they became to heavy to move. Arthur moved the hand on Merlin's waist to his back, gently pulling him into another hug. They sat like this, in silence for a long time, Arthur not daring to pull away.

Arthur started to hum a gentle tune in a last ditch effort to break the silence, not trusting his own voice to not break if he spoke. It was a tune he had caught Merlin humming hundreds of times. It reminded him of the warmth of the castle, how comfortable he was when he watched Merlin go about his duties from his spot at his desk, listening to the story of a magnificent castle being built and the mighty ships that gave it it's name. It reminded him of all the times he had to stop himself from revealing his piece of magic to Merlin, to tell him that he wasn't alone, that he wasn't hated.

The quiet song came to an end and Arthur stopped, listening to the sounds of the forest and hoping to hear a voice amongst the gentle rustle of trees, but he heard nothing. There wasn't a cough, nor a cry or a snarky remark, not even a thought. It was quiet, deafeningly so as Arthur began to cry. Long, ugly sobs were the only sound as he pulled Merlin closer to him, begging, pleading for him to move, get up, say something, kick him, yell at him, anything.

But alas, there was nothing. Only silence as Arthur continued to cry. He cried for the loss of his friend, his dearest friend. He cried for the loss of the kingdom they never got to create with each other.

He cried, sobbed, begged, and bargained. But that too, only ended in silence.

[marvelslut16]

Inseparable

Pairing: Reggie Mantle x reader

Synopsis: Reader and Reggie have been best friends since they were toddlers, nothing tearing them apart until Veronica their Junior year. This follows the rise and downfall of their friendship. Can they mend their friendship and be back to what they once were, will they be too hurt to fix their broken hearts, or will they finally admit their feelings for one another?

Word count: 2.6K+ (my hand slipped)

Warnings: Mr. Honey; he’s the worst villain to ever enter Riverdale, you can’t change my mind. Mentions of child abuse, nothing graphic past the mention of a black eye. Some angst. Spoilers for s4e4 technically, I still can’t believe what Mr. Honey did. 

A/N: I have like 11 requests I still have to get to, yikes. I swear I’ll do them soon, but inspiration hit and I ended up writing this. there isn’t enough Reggie love on Tumblr, plus I have a tiny crush on Charles Melton, so writing this was a win win. let me know what you think, and if I should write more for Riverdale. Veggie is better than Varchie (don’t come for me), but I still think Reggie deserves better than Ronnie. 

Growing up in a small town like Riverdale there weren’t too many kids to become friends with, but when you met Reggie Mantle on your first day of preschool you knew he would be your best friend for life. Archie was showing off on the playground by walking up the slide when the teacher wasn’t looking. The problem then being that Archie's foot slipped right as you were walking passed the bottom of the slide, and he slid down and ended up knocking you on the ground. You started to cry because he scraped your arm bad enough that it started to bleed. Reggie, whom you shared a table with in class, watched from the sidelines as your teacher helped you up and took you to the nurse, he got his revenge during arts and crafts later that day- ‘accidentally’ spilling red paint all over the front of Archie’s khaki pants. When Reggie made it to the table you quietly thanked him and shared your paint with him since the teacher said he couldn’t have new paint as a lesson to be more careful next time. 

As the years went on, yours and Reggie’s friendship only grew until you were inseparable; you two went on family vacations together, you went to every single one of his junior bulldog football games from the ages of eight to twelve, he went to your ballet recitals when you took classes in grade school even bringing you roses. Reggie was your rock at your grandmother’s funeral, you helped him pass his geometry class Sophomore year so he could stay on the football team, and you were the only person that he opened up to about his father’s abuse- having witnessed it with your own eyes a handful of times. 

Your mom was convinced you and Reggie would fall in love and get married one day, and your father was convinced your friendship would crumble and ultimately go down in a blazing fire. Going into your senior year you hate to admit that your father was right, his words bouncing around in your skull every time your brain shut off for longer than two seconds. Veronica Lodge moved to town Sophomore year, enticing every boy within a fifty mile radius with her upper East side charm. Reggie didn’t fall for Veronica right away, he fell for her junior year when he was helping her with La Bonne Nuit. And as cliche as it is, that’s when you realized you were in love with him, you had been for a while. The small nagging voice in the back of your head told you that it had been since that day in preschool. 

But you would grin and bear the pain, the soul crushing pain, if it meant that Reggie would still be in your life. And you did, for a while at least; until Reggie stopped calling and texting you back, until he stopped begging you to come to his games, until he stopped sneaking into your room every friday night after a game to go over the play footage where you would help him come up with new plays and tweaks to the old ones, until he started ignoring you in the halls in favor of making out with Veronica. You never hated the girl, she had been nothing but nice to you anytime you would interact, but God, you just wished she would disappear and give you your Reggie back. 

You resented Veronica, leading your interactions with the girl to be more tense and your answers clipped, and that was what led to the blazing fire your father talked about. Reggie offered you a ride home one day after school, and of course you jumped at the opportunity to spend time with him again. Instead of going to pops and talking like you thought you would, the two of you got into your biggest, and last, fight ever. 

It started with Reggie asking why you hated Veronica, where you defended yourself and swore that you didn’t. But he wouldn’t believe a word that came out of your mouth, continuing to press you as you two kept driving. The closer you got to the edge of town the worse the fighting got, your voice raising along with his. You accuse him of abandoning his friends, abandoning you, to be with Veronica all the time. He gets mad that you don’t understand why he’s with her all the time, claiming that you couldn’t understand not when you’ve never had a boyfriend. Something that he’s the reason for, since he scared all of the guys even remotely interested in you away with just one piercing glare or one lowly growled threat. 

The comment picking on your relationship status, or lack thereof, is the straw that broke the camel's back. You let loose just as you pass the sign thanking you for visiting Riverdale, the town with pep. Pep your ass, the small town is full of death and endless heartache wherever you look. You rip into Reggie, letting the hurt take over as you scream and scream at him-calling him a terrible friend. He finally screams back, claiming that you’re worse because you hate his girlfriend. He has to pull his precious car over, the car you helped him pick out when he turned sixteen, because he started swerving when you two got into a screaming match. 

The interaction ends with you getting out of the car on the side of the road leading into Greendale, slamming the car door behind you, knowing that he’ll get mad with how aggressive you’re being with his baby, his Bella. He does a sharp U-turn driving beside you, trying to coax you into getting back in the car with him. But you can’t do that, you can’t face him right now. So as you watch the taillights of the gun metal grey Chevelle disappear around the curve in the road you finally let the tears fall down your face, they stream harder and faster the closer you get to reentering the town with pep. 

Reggie had dropped your backpack off at your house when he got back into town, so it was sitting there waiting for you in your living room alongside your worried mother. You cried into her arms that night for hours, until you were all cried out, not caring that you look like a big baby. You had just lost Reggie, you had just lost your everything. You hadn’t talked to him since that day in the middle of your junior year, even after him and Veronica broke up and she went back to Archie like always. The days of your senior year seemed to fly by, October coming in what felt like mere days as opposed to months, and your last Halloween in Riverdale is today. 

You and Reggie would always wear matching costumes to trick or treat, and school just for fun as you got older, this always prompted your classmates to wonder if you two were finally dating. But that wouldn’t be happening this year, for the first time ever. You had even dressed up and sat on his porch in costume when you were six, handing out candy to the other kids so you could talk to Reggie, who was in costume too, through the window because he was sick with a 102.2 degree fever. You were dressed as Kim and Ron that year, his mom had even crocheted him a little Rufus to stick in his pocket. You couldn’t wait to get out of this town, away from Reggie, away from the places where you would see ghosts of your younger selves everywhere you went. 

Kevin calls you freaking out after he and Reggie got caught tp’ing Mr. Honey’s office. Kevin caved after Mr. Honey threatened to make sure he wouldn’t get into NYU if he didn’t. Kevin felt guilty for his actions, and even though you hadn’t talked to Reggie in close to a year you were worried about him. Worried what his dad might do to him when he hears he got in trouble at school again, and worried what the unhinged Mr. Honey might do to him himself. 

You don’t hear anything from Reggie the next day, not that you really expect to. You more-so hope he’ll call you, but you know what they say about hope- it breeds eternal misery. The day goes by at a snail's pace as you stare at your phone throughout the entirety of said day. You finally curl in on yourself and go to sleep after midnight, however sleep doesn’t stay for long. You’re awoken around two in the morning from your phone’s incessant ringing, in your dazed stupor you don’t realize it’s Reggie’s special ringtone- the bulldog cheer from Kim Possible. 

“Hello?” you ask hoarsely, making sure to stay quiet so your parents won’t hear. 

“(Y/N/N), can you talk?” your startled to hear Reggie’s voice on the other line. It sounds scratchy, like he was recently in a screaming match with someone. You open your eyes for the first time, finally accepting that you won’t be able to just roll over and slip back into your dreams. You glance at the alarm clock on your bedside table and your eyes widen at the time.

“It’s like two in the morning Reg,” you sigh, hoping he’ll wait till morning. 

“Can I come over?” Reggie’s pleading now.

“Later, we can go to Pop’s for lunch or something,” you yawn loudly into the phone in protest. 

“I’m already here,” before you can respond the line goes dead.

You can hear quiet, almost not there, footsteps outside your window as Reggie expertly navigates his way through the flowers and bushes outside your window. He taps on the window three times in quick succession, your old signal for when he would sneak over letting you know it was him at your window. You reluctantly get out of your warm cozy bed, stumbling to the window to open it for your former best friend. 

Your plans for just slipping back into bed anf hopefully nodding off while he talks go out the window as you come face to face with Reggie’s swollen face. He has a split lip and a black eye, you’re sure he has belt marks on his back too. You don't care that Reggie is climbing through the window a little too loudly, your sole focus now on fixing him up. Once he’s in the room you sneak to the kitchen and quietly grab an ice pack, stopping in the bathroom to grab rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, and ibuprofen.  

You hand him the pain reliever and your bottle of water, it’s not the first time you’ve shared, as soon as you shut your bedroom door behind you. He swallows the pills down with ease, and you both settle on your bed, a sad depressing routine. You don’t say anything as you clean his split lip, he winces slightly when the alcohol drenched cotton ball makes contact with his open wound. 

“Mr. Honey caught Kevin and I last night,” Reggie admits quietly. 

“I heard, Kevin told me,” you murmur unsure of where this conversation is headed, so you continue to dab at his lip.

“Mr Honey, he said that no one takes me seriously, no one since you. He said that he heard around school that I made my ‘persona’ bigger, became more of a prankster, after I lost you. He-he knew about my dad, (Y/N),” Reggie’s voice cracks, you can’t imagine what he must be feeling right now. “Said people at school are laughing at me, worst of all, you’re laughing at me.”

“Oh sweetie, no!” you're quick to jump in and defend. “I would never laugh at you, you know that. Never. No one else is either, he was just saying that to get a rise out of you.” Your arm moves without your permission, you push a strand of black hair out of his eyes before caressing his cheek softly. 

“He tp’d my car, that I get. That was actually funny,” Reggie hisses, you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re lightly pressing the ice pack to his shiner or because of what he’s about to say next. “But he broke Bella’s windshield, shattered her passenger side window, and busted her left headlight.” 

“I’ll kill him!” you jump up from your spot on your bed, no longer caring if you wake your parents. Reggie holds the ice pack to his eye with his right hand, cautiously reaching for your hands with his left. You calm down when his fingers intertwine with yours, sinking back down next to him. 

“I avoided going home all day, but when I did and my dad saw the car,” Reggie takes in a shaky breath, and you rub the back of his hand with your thumb. “He did, well he did this.” He uses your joined hands to gesture towards his face. 

You don’t say anything, instead just pulling him in for a hug. Reggie tenses at first before melting into your warm embrace. You pull him down onto the bed with you so you're laying side by side, he rests his head on your chest as you tuck the two of you in. 

“I know we haven’t talked in a while,” you let out dissatisfied hum as you card your fingers soothingly through his hair. “But you're the only person I wanted to see, the only person I ever want to see. It’s been torture without you (Y/N).”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” you say under your breath, but he hears you clearly with his ear pressed to your chest. 

“I was an idiot, I let my ego keep me from you,” he moves his head to look up at you, his brown eyes shine with sincerity. 

“Don’t do this right now Reggie,: your eyes fill with tears, “Don’t do or say anything you don’t mean just to make me feel better.”

Reggie moves his right arm from around your waist to brush away a stray tear that slipped out of your eye. He moves his thumb down your cheek to your lips, tracing them with the pad of his thumb. Reggie lightly tugs down on your lower lip causing you to uncage it from your teeth, when did you even bite it in the first place? 

“I love you (Y/N), I always have,” he looks away from your mouth so he can stare into your eyes. “And I think you have too.”

“I have, I love you so much Reggie,” he pulls your face down to meet him. The kiss is searing, and a little wet due to the tears leaking out of both of your eyes, but it’s perfect. You pull back when you get the slightly tangy taste of blood on your tongue. You immediately fuss over Reggie’s lip, said lip splitting again during the makeout. Reggie pulls you back down onto the bed and into his arms after you’ve dabbed at his lip with the cotton ball again. 

“How can I make it up to you?” his eyes shine with unshed tears as he stares lovingly at your face, almost like he’s mesmerized by you. “Not just tonight, but leaving you for Ronnie so I could try to get over you, and for every other night you’ve taken care of me.”

“Just never leave me again,” you whimper, which is cut off when he kisses you again. 

“Never,” Reggie’s never been more serious about anything in his life. 

You cuddle up to Reggie’s chest, his warmth and scent quickly lulling you into  a deep comforting sleep. You don’t care that he should sneak out the window and go home, or that your mom will find you two cuddled up in your twisted sheets when she comes to check on you at ten. All you care about is Reggie being safe, in your arms, and finally having him back in your life-but with one vast improvement to your relationship.

Permenent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny @mrs-malfoy-always​

[illyaana]

Squiggles - Oikawa Tooru

Thanks to @pocky-writes for this collab! It was so fun to do~ Check out all the other writers involved in the collab here ヾ(•ω•`)o

Tags: Oikawa's POV, Angst, Minor Fluff, Cursing, Kissing, SFW, Manga Spoiler (Oikawa and Iwaizumi's future jobs)

Synopsis: You entered Oikawa's life - and it hasn't been the same ever since. (If I give anymore, it'll be spoilers TwT) (I also named Oikawa's sis Miho-)

Word Count: 4334

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Liked my writing? Do you want a drabble specifically made for you about your love life with a character of your choosing? Check out my 50 followers event over here!

All stories are basically a squiggly line - it has ups and downs with multiple loops in random spots. Some parts might be thicker or shorter than others, but all points of the story make up a giant, huge squiggly line that either brings you joy or sadness. I wanted my story to be as thick and long as possible - to outshine all the other squiggles the world has to offer. It was going to be the best squiggle ever until you came along and made it loopier and uneven.

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I remember the first day you came into our class so vividly.

I had rushed to the school to copy Iwa-chan’s homework. The Kitagawa Daiichi blazer I wore was soaked in sweat thanks to me running a few blocks in several minutes. Of course, Iwa was in the classroom, waiting for school to start. He had rolled up his sleeves and was reading the literature component assigned to us - the very book I never touched ever since volleyball practices began.

“You are of a different breed, Oikawa,” Iwa-chan mumbled as he passed his book to me, “This is the last time you’re doing this.”

No, it isn’t.

“Yes, sir.”

I pulled out my book and began to move at top speed, hoping I would finish before class began.

That’s when you opened the door, breaking my concentration.

You were glowing. The school blazer seemed so big on you - as if someone with a bigger physique gave it to you - but you look so precious in it. You had a jump in your step, a wide smile plastered on your face. Your hair looked so soft even from a mile away. You seemed so at peace with everything - even when you entered a new school.

You carried yourself with such confidence it scared me.

I loved being the confident one, the hot one, the cheerful one - yet you stole those roles from me the second you walked into the school campus.

I didn’t know what I felt; was it inferiority or was it just pure admiration? Maybe a combination of both?

All of this… It was so new to me.

I was always surrounded by those who were eager for my approval - to be part of my posse and be connected to me in some way, but I just wanted to be around you. It was the first time I ever took an interest in anyone excluding my volleyball team.

It’s weird, isn’t it? The feeling of warmth rushing through your skin, but your throat just feels tight - it doesn’t want you to say anything you would regret, so it tries to hold you back. Your palms sweat and become clammy, goosebumps rise on your skin - it is so freeing yet restricting.

I wanted to come and welcome you to the school - maybe take you around the school grounds, show off a bit at the gym, find out who you are as a person - if I got lucky, even get your phone number.

“ ‘kawa, are they new? I feel like I’ve never seen them before…” Iwaizumi asked, pulling on my rolled-up sleeve.

Of course, this had to happen, didn’t it?

Iwaizumi tried to cover his red face with his arms, but he was failing miserably. His forehead began to sweat, a trail of water dripping down his chin. His chocolate eyes glowed just like your skin - so much so you could see the hazel flecks within them. His whole arm was covered in raised goosebumps, just like mine.

He was attracted to you.

“I think they are,” I replied, hiding my feelings with a smile, “Why Iwa-chan? Oh my god Iwa, you’re blushing!”

Iwaizumi threw a book to my face, earning a groan from me.

“Shut up, Shittykawa,” he says, blushing in a deeper red, “...but yeah, I think I do.”

“Well, if you want them to swoon for you just like how almost all the girls of the school do for me, I can help you. Just with the daily fee of milk bread during recess, I can turn your single ass into a full-fledged bachelor!” I say, trying to lighten up the mood.

“I'll buy you milk bread for lunch, either way,” he mumbled.

“See? It’s basically free, isn’t it? The best part of it all; it comes with a free gift! A box of milk every day so that you can grow taller-” Book number two found its place on my forehead once again.

“You’re such an idiot,” he says midst chuckling, “Thanks for the offer, Tooru. I think I’ll do this by myself, though.”

“Ok, then! Just so you know, the offer is always on the table,” I smirk, teasing the shorter male even more, “Don’t forget the milk.”

“I am never buying you anything ever again.”

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Classes went on as usual, but I couldn’t focus at all.

I kept on staring at you from my seat - enjoying every single thing you did. I saw how you’d raise your shoulders in frustration when you couldn’t understand a question, how you’d bite the end of your pencil when you were focusing on the class, how you’d play with your fingers when you were stressed - I was taking mental notes without even realizing it. I loved all the small little huffs you’d make when you’re agitated. Judging by how you were speeding through most of the questions, you seemed to be a smart student.

I kept on playing small scenarios that I would do to get your attention.

Maybe I’d ask you a question and act like I couldn’t understand the whole topic so that you could tutor me, or I should just ask you about your opinions on the essay topic we discussed in class, or I could tease you about that small thing you did in front of the classroom when the teacher wasn’t looking.

But I would never do that to Iwaizumi.

My mind replayed that small scene of him blushing just at the mere glance of you. If he could, he would’ve already gushed about you to me - tell me all the things I already knew just by looking at you. He’d go on and on about how you squinched your nose when you drank that hot drink a bit too early and burnt your tongue.

His squiggle was already slowly moving around you, making a loop fitted for you and you alone - and I will happily watch from the sidelines when you two finally become a thing.

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“Welcome back, Tooru!” My sister said from the kitchen, “Give me a minute, I’m helping mom prepare lunch.”

I placed my bag in front of my room and headed to the kitchen.

“Don’t make poison, please!” I tease her, enjoying the annoyed expression on her face.

“Tooru!” Mom sighed, “We’re inviting our new neighbors for dinner today. Go shower and get ready.”

I stuck my tongue out at my sister, earning an anger-filled hum from my mother. I ran to my room and soon headed to the shower to get ready.

Slinging the white towel on my shoulder, I head back to the kitchen area and set the table for the meal.

“Where are they from again?” Miho asked Mom.

“They’re apparently from Tokyo. The father passed away recently, so the mother had to bring the rest of the family to Miyagi to reduce the financial burden. Sad, isn’t it?” she replied.

“We should help them here and there,” Miho started, “We don’t need to give them money, but maybe help them get used to the city?”

I nodded, but I wasn’t present in the conversation ever since Mom mentioned Tokyo.

“Do they have a kid my age?” I ask, hoping that I’m wrong.

“I think there’s one that just transferred to your school?”

Please, don’t be who I think it is.

The doorbell rang, shaking me out of my thoughts.

I slowly headed to the door, gripping the doorknob tightly as I slowly opened the door.

I was right.

“Hello, Oikawa-san! It’s me, Y/N, from your class,” you said, a smile on your face.

“I just wanted to thank you and your family for your generous offer, but we can’t join you for dinner today,” you started, “Mom has to go get some things settled before she can come for dinner. Sorry, again…”

“What about you? Have you eaten anything yet?” My mom asked as she walked towards the door, “If you want, you can eat dinner here and bring some back for your mom.”

“Really?!” Your lips widened, “Thank you so much, aunty!”

You sat right beside me, just like Iwa-chan does when he comes over. I loved seeing you talk so comfortably with my family. I could see my mom’s adoration towards you when you talked about your life back in Tokyo. Your eyes lit up when you talked about your family - even if you were talking about your father.

You didn’t know it yet, but your presence makes my squiggle a little lighter.

“What school are you going to, Y/N?” Mom asked.

“I’m going to Kitagawa Daiichi like Oikawa-san. I am in his class, actually... “ you trail off.

“Do you want me to walk you to school? I don’t mind doing it, but Iwaizumi would be joining us too. Are you okay with that?” I ask, gripping the ends of my shirt.

For the first time in my life, I hated the fact I had to be beside Iwaizumi.

“Thanks, Oikawa-san. It means a lot,” you smiled.

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.

I regret asking you that question.

I had to see Iwaizumi try to flirt with you.

I had to see how you’d occasionally lean your head on my shoulder when we walked to school until Iwaizumi met up with us in the middle of our walk to school.

I had to see Iwaizumi carry your bag - something I wanted to do.

I had to see Iwaizumi make small jokes to you - something I wanted to do.

I had to see you enjoy Iwaizumi’s presence - something I wanted you to only feel for me.

I had to let it happen in front of me, didn’t I?

Books and movies never compare to the real thing; to see the person you love gush over someone you love like a sibling.

But you were closest to me, not Iwa-chan.

You came to me when you had problems, not Iwa-chan.

You stayed over at my place to relax, not Iwa-chan’s.

You watched movies with me, played games with me, told secrets to me - not Iwa-chan.

Your squiggle intertwined with mine more than Iwa-chan’s.

“Tooru,” you said as you played with the rogue strands of my hair as your head laid on my lap, “Do you want to go out on a trip?”

“What? Why?”

“We’re graduating, but we never had a trip together. It’s weird, isn’t it?” You say, slowly getting up.

I pushed your head back on my lap, earning a muffled squeal from you.

“It isn’t, to be honest,” I say, “...but I do like the idea.”

“So, we’re doing it?” you say as you wiggle your feet in excitement.

“Yeap. I’ll ask Iwa-chan if he wants to join,” I say as I grab my phone.

“I was kind of hoping that it would be just the two of us? I haven’t been able to talk to you without anyone intervening for a long time, and there’s a lot I wanna talk about.”

You looked at me, hoping for some reaction, but I couldn’t say anything.

If I was not friends with Iwaizumi, I would’ve said yes almost immediately.

I know I love you - ever since I saw you, I have.

But Iwaizumi deserves someone amazing like you.

I don’t.

“Tell me, then! I don’t think Mom’s coming home anytime soon and Miho is working right now, so there isn’t anyone who’d disturb us now,” I say through gritted teeth.

I felt your disappointment when you sighed and moved to lie down on my bed.

“I guess I’ll tell you another day.”

I felt your squiggle moving away from me - moving on without mine.

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Soon, our one-week trip to Tokyo began.

Thanks to months and months of pestering, our parents let us go by ourselves to the city you grew up in.

I could see everything in your eyes, thanks to your stories about this place. The small, quaint shops, the smell of freshly made Taiyaki at the side of the road, the small kids running on the pavement while being chased by angry parents - all of it.

“Oikawa!” you patted my shoulder, “That’s the bakery I talked about last time. You know, the one with amazing cheese tarts? Oh, that’s where my dad gave me my first cup of coffee!”

Iwaizumi chuckled as he focused on the road, admiring your love for the city.

“Why are you laughing, pine cone hair?” You tease Iwaizumi, trying to get more reactions from him.

“Nothing! You sound cute, that’s all,” he said as he focused on the road.

“Oh, really~?” You move closer to Iwaizumi and whisper something in his ear, making him blush instantly.

There it is.

That icky feeling I hate.

Why did it come now? I was with Y/N and Iwaizumi - the people I care about the most.

Go away.

Get out.

I don’t need you.

“Well, I’ll just chaperone Oikawa then, Hajime. Have fun all by yourself in a huge city you don’t know well,” you say, teasing him even more.

Hajime.

They said Hajime - not Iwaizumi.

“Geez, get a room, you two.”

“Sad I’m taking your husband away, Tooru?”

“The fuck, Y/N!” Both Iwa-chan and I scream.

You laugh as you lean back into the backseat.

“What? You both are an old couple,” you begin, “Oikawa is the flamboyant one and Iwaizumi is the man that’s only gay for Oikawa and actually thinks before doing something.”

“Did everyone think I’m gay for Oikawa?” Iwa says under his breath.

“Yeap,” you reply, “Many girls were sad, to be honest. I kept on telling them you’re straight, but they didn’t listen,” you shrug.

“And me?” I ask.

“You were labelled as the hot pansexual, lucky you,” you reply with an eye roll.

“Why did no one tell me…” Iwaizumi said to himself, worried.

“Honey~,” I began teasing the ‘pinecone’.

“Shut the fuck up, Shittykawa.”

“ ‘Shut the fuck up, Shittykawa’ - why don’t you give an actual nice nickname for the brunette over here,” you ask him, playing with the stressed driver.

“No.”

“Do it or I’m calling you pinecone for the rest of your life.”

“No.”

“Do it or I’ll tell them-” I say before getting cut off by Iwaizumi himself.

“Prettykawa.”

“Holy shit, Y/N,” I wiped my fake tears, “He called me pretty! Darling~”

“Oh my god, Oikawa,” you say, laughing as I hug Iwaizumi’s arm.

Our squiggles were intertwined and in a good way - that’s all that mattered.

.

.

.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi looked at me with a serious face, “I think I am going to confess to them tonight.”

Wait, you are?

Please don’t.

Don’t take them away from me.

I need them.

Iwaizumi, please don’t.

“Finally! It’s about time you made your move - I think they like you too, so you have a shot.”

It’s true - I see how they stare at you.

Their eyes are filled with admiration, lips fixed in a soft smile, their hands grazing your cheek - they love you as much as you love them, Iwaizumi.

“Thanks for supporting me, Tooru. It really means a lot to me,” he says as he hugged me, “Thanks for being my best friend.”

I haven’t been a good friend, Iwa.

I fell for the same person.

I want to steal them from you so badly, but I can’t bring myself to hate you.

I want to hate you so bad, but I can’t.

This feeling… I hate it.

“Thanks for being mine, too.” I smiled, but the smile never reached my eyes.

You’re taking them away from me, Iwaizumi.

You could’ve gotten anyone else, but you took them away from me.

I don’t want to feel this - this hatred growing within, yet here I am, cursing you in my head the minute I see you.

“Go! Why are you wasting time?” I say, pushing you towards the door.

I saw the smile you gave me as you ran to her room.

You are such an amazing person, Iwa-chan.

You can care for someone who deeply hates you.

.

.

.

I saw how they were basically draped around you for the next few days. They looked so happy just to be beside you.

Each day, their eyes spoke stories of love for you, Iwa. They used to come over to my place and gush about you every day, like a ritual.

You’re so fucking lucky, Iwaizumi. This isn’t fair.

They’d go on and on about your physique, your personality and the small things you’d do.

Congratulations, they finally paid attention to the things you did for them. I’m happy for you, Iwa.

I am happy for the two of you, truly.

They are truly happy.

I could’ve never done that - never.

I just wish I wasn’t walking towards the gym that day.

I saw your first kiss under that tree - the tree the three of us used to spend under while waiting for practice to start.

I saw how their hands gripped on the back of your head, pressing themselves on you. I saw how you gripped their hips oh so tightly as you showed them your passion towards them. I saw how breathless they looked the minute your lips left theirs. I saw how they grazed your chin whilst staring into your eyes in admiration.

I pictured how it would’ve been if I was in your position.

I would’ve held them tighter, pressed my forehead against theirs so that our noses would brush against each other. They’d play with the ends of my hair, going on and on about how soft each lock was like they usually do. They’d eye my lips as I stared at their soft and supple lips. I’d press the tip of my thumb on their bottom lip, enjoying the view of their parted lips made just for me and me alone. Slowly, I would kiss their cheeks, hoping for some cute reaction from them. From their cheeks, I would drag my lips to their chin, placing soft kisses here and there.

I would then press my lips against theirs, enjoying the soft noises escaping their lips.

But I never will - you’re theirs as they’re yours.

Of all places, why did you have to choose there?

I can’t come back here without thinking about that kiss now.

That icky feeling…

It’s back.

Go away.

Get out of me.

I am happy.

“Damn, Iwaizumi,” Matsun said as he approached the gym, “Y/N’s really in love with them, huh?”

“Shut it, Matsun,” Maki said, looking at me.

Of course, he’d notice.

I am in love with his friend's girlfriend, after all.

“What? He’s telling the truth; they’re so in love with each other they can’t even see that three people saw their first kiss!” I shouted, earning a growl from the black-haired male hugging Y/N.

“Out of all the times, Shittykawa…”

“You better run, he looks feral!” You shouted, laughing.

“You sure he wasn’t feral ever since he initiated that kiss? I saw that hand wandering, Iwaizumi~!” Matsukawa shouted as he ran to the gym.

“Iwaizumi isn’t innocent anymore. You aren’t part of the gang anymore man, stay back,” Hanamaki said, wiping a fake tear whilst gripping his sides, “You’ve grown up too quick, Iwa-senpai.”

“You okay, ‘kawa?” Maki said as he turned to me, rubbing my back.

“I am fine, Maki. Go ahead - go to the gym, I’ll come in a minute,” I gave him a nod as I walked to the toilet.

That day was the first day I cried over someone in school, and hopefully the last.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Tooru… Tohru…” You mumbled.

“Yes, my name is similar to the main character’s. What about it?” I sigh.

“We should get you a cat. Who knows, you might kiss it and it’ll become a girl?” Iwa chirped.

“That’s a cat version of Princess and the Frog,” I say, annoyed.

“Stupid,” you hit Iwa’s thigh, “Get with the program.”

Iwa groaned as he rubbed his leg, “That was really painful, dumbass.”

“Tohru, he called me dumbass,” you whined.

“I am not Tohru - it’s Tooru.”

“Brown hair, all of the people around them falling in love with them, high pitched voice… that’s you,” Iwa joked.

“Major flaw in your theory - I am not a girl.”

“Alternate universe Tohru then,” you said, enjoying the banter.

“Tohru plays with animals, I play with a volleyball team.”

“How do you know she isn’t in a volleyball team? It was never specified she isn’t part of a volleyball team.”

“It’s never specified that she is part of a volleyball team,” I say, clearly annoyed by this conversation.

“I’m getting you a cat - a ginger one,” Iwa said, grabbing his phone from the side table.

“Don’t get me a cat!”

“Get him a cat, love. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’ll love it,” you said, leaning against Iwaizumi’s chest to see his phone screen.

“Holy shit,” you said, holding back a laugh, “He’s actually looking-”

“Iwaizumi Hajime!” I scream, making both Iwaizumi and you laugh loudly.

“I was looking at a cat meme, stupid.”

I sign out of frustration and look back at the TV screen, avoiding the mischievous couple.

I eyed the way they were sitting on the couch.

You were seated in between Iwaizumi’s legs, their back pressed against his front. Their hands played with Iwaizumi’s left hand, fiddling with his fingers as they stared at the screen in front of them. Iwaizumi wasn’t looking at the screen though - he was staring at his lover who was fully immersed in the scene unfolding in front of them. His right hand grazed their right hand, enjoying the feeling of them comfortable in his arms.

You looked happy, and that’s all that mattered.

The last episode soon finished and you looked to the ceiling, stretching your neck.

“So sad it’s over,” you said, smiling.

“At least it had a good ending. I don’t think I need to remind you how heartbroken you were when we watching Banana Fish’s-”

“Don’t remind me - I’ll cry here and now.”

You got off the couch and walked towards the kitchen to get a drink.

“So,” you plopped on the couch, leaning against Iwa, “What’s the final plan, Mr Tohru?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your life after high school, of course! What’s the plan? I know Hajime is planning to be a trainer, but you never told me what your plan is.”

Hajime.

Hajime.

Hajime.

Again with the Hajime.

Just use Iwaizumi, for fuck’s sake.

“...Tooru?”

I snap out of my thoughts. “Oh.”

“You’ve been out of it recently. You’re okay, right?” You say as you walk to sit beside me.

I chuckle, looking at your concerned face.

“I’m good - just stressed about life, that’s all. I am not so sure as to what’s the next step, but it’s going pro.”

You hug me from the side, placing your head on my shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you, now? Aren’t you scared that you might make Hajime jealous?” I tease.

“I don’t know - I just feel I need to do this, like a feeling that you might do something rash.”

I felt tears wet the side of my shirt.

My eyes darted to the sight of you, sobbing, gripping on my shirt.

“Don’t you dare forget me, okay?” You say through sniffles, “I sure as hell won’t forget you.”

I cup your face in my hands, wiping off the trailing tears.

“I won’t.”

You made a huge loop on my squiggle, Y/N - I don’t I can ever forget you.

.

.

.

.

.

.

TO: Y/N (2:30 a.m.)

It’s been so many years, Y/N.

You’ve blossomed into the amazing person I knew you’d be.

I saw Iwa-chan recently - after all, he’s training the Japan team.

I actually made it into a team - the Argentinian Volleyball team.

I kept on doubting myself, but you kept on reminding me of how good of a setter I was back in high school.

I know you’re busy being the big person in your industry - congrats on all the awards again, I keep forgetting to contact you.

If you’re down, maybe we can call? I miss your voice.

I sent the message, hoping you’d reply as fast as you used to when we were in high school.

I looked from the hotel window, trying to imagine how the scenery is back home in Miyagi.

The roaring fields, the birds flying in the sky as we walked down that small pathway, that traffic light you’d draw on while waiting for the cars to pass - I remembered it all.

I remembered it all just because you were part of it.

Funny, isn’t it? After so many years, I still think of you.

Not as my friend’s lover, but mine.

I shouldn’t have invited Iwaizumi to that trip.

I should’ve just kept you all to myself - protect you from the world.

I should’ve just kept Iwaizumi out of your life - not let him in at any point.

I should’ve just told him how I feel about you.

I tried so hard to get over you, Y/N.

I met so many other people, hoping they could fill up the hole you left when you left me for him. I had so many sour relationships just because I was comparing them to the rhetorical you that I dated. If the world had given me a second chance, I would be standing beside you - I would work to provide for you the best the world had to offer.

But in the end, your squiggle was meant to grow without mine. I had to accept it and move on, as much as it hurts.

Covid 19: Angst train :)

All reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated!!!

[jjmaybanksbaby]

Where It Leads (Rafe Cameron)

Summer IV

Part 07: Crashing Down

series masterlist | previous part

summary: A jarring family emergency forces you to consider the future of your relationship with Rafe Cameron.

a/n: I'm a little bit emotional about this series ending because I've had so much fun writing it! Enjoy the last part and, as always, please come share your reactions with me in my inbox. Okay, that's all from me!

word count: 2.1k words

Rafe Cameron knew how to text. He was somehow witty, charming, and hilarious all in less characters than a single tweet. Texting with most boys was like talking to a brick wall: single-syllable answers, unironic uses of punctuation, asking “What are you wearing?” before even listening to how your day went. Though, to be fair, Rafe had asked that same question a few times, which always earned him a sarcastic answer in return. Well, except for that one time.

You’d been forced to spill the beans about your dreamy summer romance to Alice and Kensie after one of Rafe’s funnier texts almost made you pee yourself laughing at the lunch table.

“Oh, so he’s a stud muffin,” Alice announced, peering over Kenzie’s shoulder at the photo on your phone.

“Please god don’t call anyone a stud muffin ever again Al,” Kenzie replied.

“What? The 80s are like making a comeback.”

“Yeah, not that,” you countered and Alice huffed.

“He’s totally hot though,” Kenzie said, handing the phone back to you. “And I kinda hate you for not telling us about him.”

You looked down at the picture. Rafe was kissing your check while you grinned up at the camera, the golden hour lighting made the whole thing look rather enchanting. It was your favorite picture of you and him.

“Oh shit,” Kenzie said causing you to look up from the phone. “You’re like in love in love with him.”

“What? No,” you protested. Yes, your brain corrected.

Kenzie glanced over at Alice for backup.

“Besides, I wasn’t hiding him. I just didn’t know if there was anything there to...tell,” you finished.

“I wish I had a handsome summer fling with spectacular cheekbones,” Alice sighed.

“Don’t let your boyfriend hear you saying that.” Kenzie chucked a fry off her tray at Alice who dodged it expertly.

“Oh, please. Matty knows I would dump his ass for someone who looks like a young Chuck Bass any day of the week. Gimme your phone. I wanna see the photos again y/n.”

“I seriously don’t know how you and Matthew have been together for two years,” Kenzie replied.

“Are you kidding? They’re practically made for each other,” you added.

“The phone, please,” Alice interjected. “I wanna thirst over your mans while my boyfriend is sucking up to his English teacher so she doesn’t fail him. Of course, I told him he needed to actually read Wuthering Heights and not just sparknotes it. But did he listen? No. I picked a real winner y’all,” she finished, taking the phone from your outstretched hands. “You sure Rafe doesn’t have any brothers? Not even like a half-step brother?”

So yeah, going great. Against the odds of three thousand miles, the whole thing was somehow working. Long-distance friends with benefits? Check. Well, except for those moments when that nagging feeling in your stomach came back and you’d start overthinking everything. His texts would sit, unread in your phone for days or even a whole week, slowly sinking to the bottom of your messages.

Then came the call from the Kildare Country Hospital in the early hours of a foggy April morning. You should have gone to sleep hours ago but were still up, desperately trying to cram Maria’s lines into your brain while also texting Rafe. The Sound of Music opened in three weeks and your director had already chewed you out twice for not being off-book, something about being an upperclassman and the lead, and what kind of an example were you setting for the rest of the program. Big speeches were kind of your director's thing, you learned to just ride them out.

Around 1 a.m. your phone ran with an incoming FaceTime call from Rafe. You pressed the green acccept button, a smile spread across your face as Rafe’s own filled the screen.

“Hey Broadway Star.”

“Hi Rafe.” The dim lighting of his bedroom made his feature especially striking. “What are you still doing up?”

“Can’t sleep. Plus you’re up too so. How’s the memorizing going?”

“Shitty,” you replied, closing your binder with a sigh. “I’m too tired to do anymore of it tonight anyway.”

“You know, I was thinking I could come to Oregon for your opening night?”

“Really?” The possibility of Rafe sitting in the audience made your heart race.

“Yeah, why not? I’ll ask Ward if I can borrow the plane that weekend and I bet Sarah’ll want to come too. I wanna see my girl kill it. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Rafe. You know my friends think you’re hot.”

“Oh, do they?” Rafe replied, rolling over onto his back in his bed.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Cameron.”

The home phone ran but you ignored it, much more invested in your conversation with Rafe. The second time the hospital left a message. Your Nonna’s heart had given out. The prognosis wasn’t good. She had barely any time left.

Your heart dropped as the words echoed over the speaker of the answering machine.

“Rafe,” you said, cutting him off momentarily. “I gotta go. I’ll call you back later. I gotta-” you ended the call before Rafe even had the chance to respond. You dropped your phone on the kitchen table, dashing up the stairs to your parents’ bedroom. Your father was booking a flight for your mother back to the Outer Banks minutes later.

The end had come so quickly, so unexpectedly. It was almost like that made it harder. There'd been just enough time for your mom and uncle to get to the Outer Banks, sitting on each side of your Nonna as her final breaths passed through her lungs. Now, everyone was there to say goodbye one last time. Uncle Austin and his fiancé. Your mom and dad. Both your siblings. The entire population of Figure Eight.

☼☼☼

Rain drizzled down from the dark, gray clouds looming overhead. It was as if Mother Nature was mourning your Nonna too, hiding the sunshine away.

Three baby ducks followed their mama into the man-made pond at the edge of the cemetery. You watched their tiny feet kick up small waves disturbing the peaceful water and the tears silently slipped down your face.

The cars were waiting to take you back to your Nonna's house for the wake. The same house with the for-sale sign now stuck in the front yard. The for-sale sign with Rose's patronizing grin that you were starting to really hate. Your dad had handled that. Listing the house. He'd handled most of the funeral arrangement's actually because your mother had been too sunken into her grief to make any decision. Sending out the invitations, picking out your Nonna's casket, choosing the flowers. Your mother clung to him during the entire funeral, weeping into his shoulder.

“Y/n?” Rafe's voice called out from behind you and you turned to see him walked toward you. He’d stood at the back of the church with his family during the funeral. You had longed for him to be sitting in the first pew next to you, to have had his hand to hold onto to ground you, but it hardly would have been appropriate. Your Nonna would have sooner risen from the dead than have had a Cameron front row at her funeral.

As soon as he was close enough, Rafe reached for you, pulling your body tight into him. Your head landed on his chest and the sobs came moments later. God, he always smelled the same. He just let you cry, holding you close, smoothing his hand over your hair.

“I know you’re selling your grandma’s house but I was thinking you could stay with me for the summer," he said as your tears began to slow. It was hard to imagine that you wouldn't return to the Outer Banks once school let out. It was the first week of May already and you could feel the tourist-attracting town waking up. But selling the house just made more sense. Your older sister was already living her life in New York, a real adult life. Next summer, you'd be moving out too, headed to college. The house would sit empty for eight months out of the year, your family couldn't keep it and your uncle certainly didn’t want it. Selling it just had to happen.

You stepped back, slipping out of his embrace. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Rafe.”

“Why not?”

“Cause we’re like Romeo and Juliet.”

“I copied Cleo’s notes for that unit," he joked, trying to lighten to damp mood. “Plus I was never a fan of Leo DiCaprio so I didn’t finish the movie either.”

“It means we’re not supposed to be together, you and me. And whenever we try, the universe rips us apart. We hurt each other.”

Rafe shifted awkwardly on his feet, clearly wanting to reach for you again but stopping himself from doing it. “But I can't lose you.”

You reached your hand out, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. “Oh Rafe, don’t you get it? You never really had me.” You stood up onto your tiptoes to kiss him just like you had the first time three years ago. Rafe barely parted his lips, kissing you back gently. Your hand cupped his face, your thump stroking over his cheek. It was a goodbye. Both of you knew it. It was an ending and this was your closure. You pulled away, your hand falling away from his face.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say the actual words. Your eyes fell to the ground. You needed to walk away now. You side-stepped Rafe but he grabbed your waist, turning you back around to face him.

“So that’s it? You’re not even gonna try to fight for us?”

“What even is there to fight for, Rafe? I’ve been fighting for us for the past four years. If we were supposed to be together that car wouldn’t have crashed into ours, I wouldn’t have fallen for Evan when I did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at my Nonna’s funeral. What? Are we supposed to do long distance for all of college? I hardly know who I am right now. I have no idea who I’ll be in the next four years. Our future selves might not even like each other. I’m not gonna wait around for you Rafe and I would never ask you to do that for me.” You twirled the small, star charm between your fingers, a nervous habit you'd developed over the past year. His eyes dropped down to your neck momentarily and his adam's apple visibly bobbing as he swallowed his next weeks.

“You were it for me, you know. I tried to give a fuck about anyone else but I couldn’t get your gorgeous, stupid face out of my mind. I only wanted you.” Rafe paused gauging your reaction “I was falling in love with you.”

Your eyes wandered over his stoic expression. “The feeling was mutual, Rafe Cameron.”

He dropped your wrist but you both stood, not moving or saying anything. “Do you wanna walk me back to the car?”

“Yeah.” He reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers. Your other hand held onto his bicep so you walked together through the graveyard back to the parking lot.

The moment felt precious and delicate, like the fragile china your Nonna used to collect. You wondered what would happen to all that china.

Rafe placed a chaste kiss on your lips before opening the door of the car.

“I’ll miss you,” you said, the words hanging in the air meaning so much.

“Me too,” Rafe agreed.

You wanted one more kiss, one more passionate declaration of how much this all had meant but that would make leaving Rafe so much more impossible.

You climbed into the car, dropping Rafe’s hand in the process.

“See you around Cameron.” You knew it wouldn’t happen but it felt better than a goodbye.

He smiled back. “Maybe so.”

Perhaps Rafe was right and you’d both end up at a small liberal arts college in California taking the same second-year Econ class with a professor who always smelled like weed. Perhaps the stars would align and two of you would realize the universe wasn’t trying to keep you apart. It was just waiting for the right moment to show you that the love you had for each other was the soulmates, forever and ever kind of love. Perhaps you would get married and Sarah would be your maid of honor, of course. You’d buy back your Nonna’s house to raise your troubling-making kids in. Perhaps, you would find your way back and wake up each day and choose each other again and again.

Or perhaps, he'd always be your right-person-wrong-time. And, in the end, the passing days will steal away your memories of the blue-eyed boy from the Outer Banks.

taglist! @oreoenthusiast13

[hood-ex]

I'd be thrilled if you did a crash (plane or other vehicle) in winter weather with Dick and Roy 🤣 ok, we all know I'd just be thrilled to read any hurt comfort or whump with Dick, and bonus Roy is a bonus 😁 excited to see what you come up with for all of these prompts.

Roy’s running, and he’s running fucking fast. The air he sucks in through his mouth is cold enough to make his teeth throb, and his legs are burning as he pushes them to go faster. It’s a relief when the adrenaline consumes his whole body and leaves everything numb except for the erratic beating of his heart. Now he can focus on getting to the hunk of aluminum that just went down with Dick inside of it. 

Holy shit, he can’t believe that just happened. He can’t fucking believe the plane Dick hijacked started spiraling towards the ground after the pilot nosedived. If Kyle hadn’t acted when he did... if he hadn’t caught the plane before it crashed... 

Roy shudders. He doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t want to imagine Dick’s body burning up into nothing but a pile of ash. That’s just... no. That can’t happen to Dick. Nothing’s supposed to touch him. Roy’s not supposed to let something like that touch him.  

He’s only about fifty feet away from a motorcycle when a H.I.V.E. goon tries to intercept him with his gun, and damn, can’t the yellow wearing H.I.V.E. freak see that Roy doesn’t have time for this? He quickly notches an arrow and shoots it in retaliation. It’s one of his trick arrows that shoots out a screen of smoke, and Roy grins because now the yellow fuck can’t see what he’s shooting at. 

His legs eat up the distance to the bike before the smoke dissipates, and he swings himself up on the seat in one fluid motion. He’s panting, and his throat feels like the Snow Miser just pissed in it, but he hardly pays attention to that because he catches sight of the key in the ignition, and relief washes over him. One of the H.I.V.E. freaks must have planned on coming back for the bike and just left the key behind for easy access. 

Roy’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He takes off like a shot down the paved road past the H.I.V.E. freaks who are wasting their bullets on Kyle. Then he passes H.I.V.E.’s honeycomb shaped building and heads towards the back of it where the plane went down. The closer he gets, the more he can see a runway that stretches on for miles and miles with grass growing on either side of it. He guesses the runway is the reason H.I.V.E. built this base in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania. 

The plane is sitting upright in a patch of grass to the right of the runway in the same place Kyle had set it. Roy wastes no time flinging himself off his bike as soon as it comes to a stop. His heartbeat pulses in his ears, and shit, even though it’s 18° today, he feels his hands sweating and shaking inside his gloves. 

He’s not sure what he’s about to walk into is the thing. If Dick didn’t have time to strap himself into a seat then there’s no telling what kind of damage he could have taken during the plane’s freefall. The idea that Dick might be dead is almost more than Roy can handle, and he has to try and take some deep breaths to calm himself down.

The door of the plane is already open, and thank fuck for that because otherwise, this whole thing would take longer, and Roy’s nerves are already shot to hell from waiting. He’s not sure if the open door means someone already got off the plane or not. There’s no telling how many people were inside of it other than Dick and the pilot. Roy thinks probably not many since it’s a private plane that only seems big enough to have about eight or ten seats in it. 

He arms himself with a knife just in case, and he has to remind himself not to bulldoze his way inside no matter how badly he wants to. Dick taught him to be stealthier than that. 

His footsteps are as quiet as he can make them when he climbs up the small number of stairs on to the plane. The first thing he notices is that it’s just as cold in here as it is outside, which isn’t surprising considering the open door. The second thing he notices is that the door to the cockpit is open with no one inside of it. A look towards the cabin shows no sign of anyone either, and now Roy is cursing a thousand times over in his head because where the fuck is Dick?

“Wing?” he says quietly, maybe a little too quiet. 

He heads further into the cabin, checking each of the plush seats for any signs of black and blue. By the time he starts to near the end of the cabin, hope and anxiety are boxing each other in his chest. Anxiety over finding Dick dead, and hope over the idea that maybe Dick is fine enough to have gotten out on his own. 

Both feelings sucker punch each other when he gets to the two seats in the back that are facing one other. The one facing Roy is empty. The one turned away from Roy is where Dick sits with his head slumped over his chest. 

The fact that Dick is wearing a seatbelt—and Roy is itching to know how the fuck he pulled that off—is such relief that Roy has to clutch on to the arm of the seat and just breathe. Things will be okay, right? Dick’s here. Roy found him. Things are gonna be fine. 

He’s not moving, Roy’s brain screams at him, and Roy wants to tell the voice to shut the fuck up. He wants to walk over to the toilet and shove that thought into it and flush it until it’s gone forever. But no matter how much he wants to ignore it, he can’t deny that Dick isn’t moving a damn inch. 

Dick’s dead. There’s no blood or wounds on him, but he’s not moving. He has to be dead. If he’s not dead then he’s got a traumatic brain injury that’s keeping him from waking up, and Roy feels like he can’t breathe because neither are good. They’re both really fucking bad, and Roy can’t... Dick can’t... 

“Wing?” he says, and his voice is weak and strangled. He doesn’t remember the last time he sounded like this. Probably not since Donna. 

He can’t lose him. Not Dick. Never Dick. Dick is supposed to be untouchable. He’s always there. Always there when Roy needs him. Always there when other people need him. He’s not dead... he can’t be dead. God, please don’t let Dick be dead...

He takes his glove off, and even though his hand is shaking, he reaches out to place his fingers against Dick’s pulse. He imagines not feeling anything, and he thinks he’s going to throw up. 

The pad of his middle finger barely touches Dick’s skin before Dick suddenly jerks hard to the right. It scares the absolute shit out of Roy, and he flails backward with a yelp, heart thundering in his chest. 

“Arsenal?” Dick slurs. His head rolls in Roy’s direction, and Roy has never hated Dick’s mask for deceiving him more than this very moment. 

Something like a whimper slips out of Roy’s mouth, and he dives in for a side hug that has his cheek pressed against Dick’s. Their faces are both freezing cold, and even though this is probably one of the most unpleasant hugs Roy’s ever had, it means everything to him. He feels like someone replaced all of his bones with jello, and he can’t help but slump against Dick like he’s a kid seeking comfort. 

“I thought you were...” Roy tries to clear his throat, and it’s nearly impossible with how tight it is. “I thought...”

“My head,” Dick interrupts quietly. Roy pulls away from him and sees Dick raise one of his hands to lightly prod at the right side of his head. “Hurts...”

“Must have hit it when the plane was tumbling around,” Roy says a little numbly, thinking that the way Dick is slurring and moving slowly is because he’s concussed. “Probably got nasty whiplash too.”

“I fell in a plane?” Dick says more like he’s talking to himself rather than asking Roy. 

Amnesia of the traumatic event. Another concussion symptom. 

“Yeah,” Roy says quietly, not wanting to irritate Dick’s senses when they’re bound to be sensitive right now. “You fell.”

Dick’s face twists in confusion. “How did I—”

“GL caught the plane before it could crash.”

“Oh,” Dick says. His mouth is a hard line like he’s trying to make himself remember. “We’re at the H.I.V.E. base getting the kryptonite.”

Roy brushes strands of black hair away from Dick’s eyelets to give his hands something to do, and then he remembers that Dick is still strapped into the chair. 

“Yeah, we’re at H.I.V.E.,” Roy says. He gently maneuvers Dick’s arms up so that he can undo the seatbelt. 

“I can do it,” Dick says, making zero attempts at it. 

“I know,” Roy murmurs. 

“We need to get back to the others,” Dick says, and the leader in him that leaks out makes Roy want to smile and roll his eyes all at once. Trust Dick to compartmentalize his near death experience to focus on the mission. 

“No, I need to get back to the others,” Roy says. He’s sure that Dick is glaring at him behind his mask, so he quickly tacks on, “You’re staying put until I can send GL to you because you might have hurt your spine or something else during the fall.” 

“I’m f—”

“You’re not fine!” Roy hisses. He immediately feels shitty about it when Dick flinches at the loud tone. “You’re not,” he says softer this time. He takes a seat in the chair across from Dick’s and places his hand on Dick’s knee. He’s not sure which of them he’s trying to ground. “You know what I thought when I saw you bent over like your neck was snapped?”

“Arsenal—”

“I thought you were dead, Wing.” And now he knows he’s got Dick’s full attention because Dick cocks his head to the side like he’s assessing Roy’s well-being. “You weren’t moving, and I thought you were just... gone. Gone like GA.” He feels so fucking tired all of a sudden, and he knows it’s the adrenaline crash kicking his ass. “Gone like Troia.”

Dick tenses at that, and Roy hates bringing up bad memories for both of them, but he just needs Dick to understand. 

“I need you to be okay,” he says, lightly squeezing Dick’s knee. He stares down at Dick’s feet because it’s better than having to see Dick looking at him like he thinks Roy is fragile. And shit, he kind of is fragile right now, isn’t he? His hands still haven’t stopped shaking for fuck’s sake, and there’s still a sense of fear etched into him that he doesn’t think is going to go away until Dick’s been to a hospital. “I need you to trust me to do this without you like you trusted me with the Titans.” 

Dick inhales sharply through his nose and presses his shoulders back against his chair. Roy knows this is hard for him. Hard for him to just sit here where he can’t help keep the team safe. It’s hard for Roy too, knowing Dick is vulnerable in his current state. It kills him that he can’t put Dick on the bike and get him to safety without possibly causing irreparable damage to his body. 

“I always trust you,” Dick says, and it warms Roy’s heart to hear it. Getting validation from Dick has always felt kind of like a reward. “And I guess you’re right. I won’t be much help to any of you out there.”

Dick’s face suddenly gets a pinched look, his hand going back to the side of his head. Roy nearly forgot about Dick’s concussion because Dick’s so damn good at faking that he’s okay. 

“You’ll be alright?” Roy looks at Dick urgently because he really needs to get back to the others. It’s not like he’s been with Dick all that long by normal standards, but by mission standards, it’s been way too long. 

“As alright as I can be after getting my body shaken like a maraca.” 

“Nightwing...”

“Yes, I’ll be fine. Now hurry up and go.”

Roy gives Dick’s knee one last comforting squeeze before he goes. Leaving Dick behind makes him feel like a nervous wreck all over again, and he swears that if something happens to Dick while he’s gone, he’ll never forgive himself. But he leaves all the same because he’s got other friends to take care of, and Dick is trusting him to look after them. 

Roy won’t let him down. 

[storiesbymads]

HOT SUMMER NIGHTS ( haydn fleury . )

Haydn and Y/N are childhood friends that take their families tradition of summers at their cabin into their own hands when their parents decide they aren’t going this year

warnings: sexual references, alcohol

wc: 4.1k

add yourself to my taglist!

Summer was your favorite time of the year. It’s been your favorite since you were six when your parents decided that you and the Fleurys were going to spend every summer from then on at a cabin they’d purchased together. It was situated on a small lake—that could really be considered a very large pond—and it had enough yard to let your golden retriever run five miles before it had to turn around and come back.

John had enlisted both sons to build some semblance of a fire pit when you turned fifteen. Haydn and Cale finally had a good and functioning pit… two summers later. That started the tradition of the three of you sitting down by the pit when both sets of parents had tucked in for the night and sharing stories into the early hours of the morning. And you may or may not have snuck into your dad’s supply of Natty Light while you did so.

Your days at that cabin were filled with probably the happiest memories you’d ever made. Haydn always forced you to go paddle boarding with him or canoeing during the day—you preferred the canoeing since he would just let you tan near the front while he did… whatever he did. Your parents pretty much left you to your own devices until dinner where all of you would gather around the enormous dining room table and spend an hour or two just talking. There was also the occasional game of Monopoly that totally didn’t end in Cale flipping the board that one time when Haydn gave you too much money as banker for six rounds in a row. You thought you were being really sneaky.

All of that being until your parents decided that they weren’t going up to the cabin this year. And neither were the Fleurys.

“Can you believe this,” you groaned into the phone. Haydn chuckled at your response to his phone call. You’d been on the call approximately 3 seconds at this point.

“I know but did you really expect us to go up there for the rest of our lives,” he replied.

“Uh, yeah,” you said. “We’re going to continue the tradition forever and before you know it we’ll be bringing our own kids up there. They’ll be best friends just like us.”

You really only included that last part to keep Haydn from knowing that you didn’t picture the tradition going on as it was right now. You did imagine the two of you going up to that cabin for the rest of your lives but you only pictured one family being involved in the whole ordeal.

“You know we could always just go by ourselves,” he said.

And the idea sparked joy into your heart. Until he picked you up from your house and you realized that you’d be spending all summer with him. Alone.

“You ready for this?” he asked as he helped you put your two duffel bags into the trunk of his car. His right hand found your thigh as he started up the engine. “Time for the summer of our lives.”

“Hell yeah,” you said as you hooked your phone up the aux in his car. That was one of your undisputed rules. On road trips, whoever wasn’t driving picked the music.

The ride down to the cabin felt shorter than usual. You liked to chalk it up to the fact that you were just older now and car rides didn’t feel as interminably long as they did when you were eight but it was probably due to Haydn making you laugh harder than you’ve laughed in six months the entire time. It seemed like you’d just pulled out of your driveway when you pulled into the gravel one of your cabin.

“Do you remember when Cale jumped over the bonfire and almost lit his ass on fire,” you giggled as you lugged your luggage up the wooden steps to the front door.

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Haydn said as he found the key under the welcome mat. He remembered exactly the moment you were talking about. The two of you were sixteen and testing out the unfinished fire pit and he was seconds away from spilling all the feelings he’d had for six years when his brother decided to test fate.

You inhaled deeply the second you stepped into the living room—out of habit of course. It was exactly like you remembered seeing as you’d been there just last year. It was odd not having your mom there to shove you the rest of the way through the door and forcing you to help put up the groceries before you got a chance to put your stuff in your room. Now that you thought about it, you could totally take your parents bedroom for your own and sleep in a California King for the next two months.

You hadn’t even noticed Haydn had gone back to the car until he lugged the yeti cooler in behind you and dropped it by the kitchen island. The two of you would definitely have to go to the grocery store in town for the rest of your food but you could push that off until tomorrow.

“You wanna head down to the dock?” you asked, readjusting the duffel bags on your shoulders. There was a side compartment in one of them full of nothing but bikinis and you were just itching to start using them.

“You’re ready to go down already? Don’t you usually ward off going outside for the first 24 hours of the trip?” he asked, grabbing his own bags and following you up the stairs that led to the small second level that housed three of the four bedrooms.

“Let me get changed and I’ll go down all by myself if I have to,” you scoffed, pushing open the door to your parents usual bedroom and dropping the duffels on the bed. It seemed that Haydn had the same idea as you had because he was currently dropping all his luggage onto his parents bed. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t sneak a peak at him taking his shirt off before reminding him his door was wide open for the world to see. Of course, all he said in response was that it was just you before shutting the door quietly and changing into his swim shorts.

You tried to shake the thought of Haydn seeing you in the same position. You tried to shake the thought of Haydn being the one taking your shirt off. It didn’t work.

You shut your own door before grabbing a red set out of your bikini compartment. It made your ass look great, not that that was your whole goal in wearing it, but it couldn’t hurt.

A soft knock at your door alerted you to the fact that Haydn was already done. You let him know he could come in while you pulled your hair up into a ponytail. You eyed him in the body length mirror that faced the door and, man, did you wish his mom still dressed him. The 5.5 inch inseam shorts did wonders for his thighs and he had on a canes snapback on that you were determined to steal from him later.

You weren’t doing Haydn any favors either. The thong bikini had to be his new favorite shade of red and you had your hair pulled up to reveal the small tattoo the two of you shared at the base of your shoulder blade.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Did you bring claws?” You walked past him to the hallway closet that held all of your bath and beach towels. You grabbed one for both of you, tossing him one, before making your way down the stairs.

“The mango ones,” he replied as he followed you, only about a step or two behind. You gasped in delight as you skipped the bottom step, rushing to the cooler and grabbing said mango white claw out of it. You grabbed Haydn one of his beers while you were in there, too. You weren’t heartless.

The dock was probably your favorite part of the cabin. Your mom had had it installed two summers ago and it was big enough to hold about six lawn chairs and a few beach towels across—which, by the way, was way too big for the lake but you did tan every single day while you were there.

The water was fully up to the dock when you got down there. You definitely could submerge like half your leg if you sat on the edge.

Haydn hooked up his phone to the speaker he’d mounted to the singular wall the dock had. He’d made sure the small roofed area kept the weather from dealing too much damage to it over the time you were gone.

“What music do you want?” he asked, squinting as he scrolled through his various playlists on spotify. A good ⅔ of them had been made by you and forced into his library but that didn’t matter to him. He listened to all of them.

“Do last year’s. I haven’t gotten around to making one for us this year yet,” you said as you laid out your towel. “Hey, do you think you could sunscreen my back for me?”

“Yeah, yeah, hold on,” he said before MKTO started flowing through the speakers. He grabbed the SPF out of your beach bag of sorts before sitting himself down on your thighs.

“Undo the strings, I don’t want lines,” you hummed, already enjoying the feel of the sun on your skin, and the feel of Hayden’s weight on top of you.

His breathing stuttered slightly, not enough for even you to notice, when he undid the thin tie that held up the cherry red bikini top. Squirting the lotion straight into your back, he rubbed it in. God, he could’ve spent the rest of his vacation right here.

“There you go,” he whispered once he was finished, pushing himself up from you and walking back over to where the rest of his stuff was. He grabbed his own towel, laying it out beside yours.

“Do you want sunscreen?” you asked him, opening your eyes slightly only to see him starting to lay down.

“No, I’m not staying here for long,” he replied. “The lake is calling to me.”

“You can still burn in the lake, Hay. You should know, we go over this every time.”

“This time’ll be different,” he said and he sounded so sure of himself.

If only it had worked out like that.

“Oh my god I can’t move,” he groaned into the leather of the living room couch. Your eyes were glued to the incredibly red skin of his back that you’d already lathered in aloe vera. You’d already commented on the fact that he matched your bathing suit. “The sun fucking hates me.”

“I’m sure he does.” You patted his calf twice before grabbing one of the seven remote controls on the coffee table in front of you and turned on the small box tv situated in the corner of the room. If the two of you kept this up, you’d need to do some serious renovations in the coming years.

It took two whole weeks for Haydn’s sunburn to heal enough for him to spend time outside without a shirt on. And seeing as he was your only company, the two of you had spent a hell of a lot of time inside. One thing Haydn’s lack of sun protection didn’t affect, though, was the nightly bonfire you had out back in the fire pit. You’d be surprised if you had enough firewood to last you through July with your evening antics as they were.

Haydn crumpled his Bud Light box and set it at the base of the fire pit before stacking the night’s supply of wood on top of it. He had the fire going strong in a solid ten minutes.

“I honestly don’t know how you do it. If i was stuck in the wild without you I’m pretty sure I’d just not survive,” you said when he took his spot in the fold out chair beside yours. He was close enough to you that you could smell his cologne and you could practically feel his body heat.

“Fire God,” he said, waving the extra long stick he always used as a poker. You were sure he’d had that stick for close to ten years at this point.

His eyes stayed glued to you as you told him about one of the bonfire’s you’d had when you were still back in high school. The two of you had gone to different schools then and it was probably why you’d looked forward to these trips so much.

About an hour later, the fire had diminished down to embers but neither of you cared. The two of you were so lost in conversation, you could care less about the dwindling flames. Or, at least, Haydn didn’t care.

“Oh, shit. I think it’s time to head inside,” you chuckled as you gestured to the pit. He nodded, getting up from his spot and pouring the rest of the water he’d switched to for the night before you guys came outside over the embers. He held out his free hand when he was done for you to take, helping you out of your chair. You were thankful for the lack of light or you’re sure Haydn would’ve seen the way your cheeks were burning red.

The next few days passed like clockwork. You woke up half past nine, Haydn at ten, and you made breakfast together. He was, surprisingly, not half bad at making an omelet or really anything that primarily involved eggs so you gave him most of the reigns in the kitchen. When the two of you finished eating, it was straight out to the dock until Haydn got bored and either forced you to swim with him or to get into the canoe tied off to your right.

“Y/N/N, I am begging you,” he whined. He was completely covered in sunscreen this time, you’d made sure of that, but at least he’d ditched the t-shirts. You’d chosen a white bikini today. They had full coverage bottoms and Haydn didn’t know whether to rejoice and silently hate the manufacturers.

“Hay, I just need five more minutes,” you sighed, turning your head so that you could face him from where you were laid out on your stomach. You’d already done your other side and you just wanted it to be even.

“Fine,” he said. You smiled at him in thanks, thinking that’d be the end of it and he’d make you paddle board with him when you were finished. Then, you felt his hands push underneath you and suddenly you were off the towel and pressed into his chest, bridal style.

“What the fuck!” you shrieked in the midst of the havoc. Haydn laughed briefly and before you knew it he’d jumped off the dock with you helplessly in tow.

The water was warmer than you expected but it still jolted you awake. The lake was just deep enough that you had to wade to stay afloat but not much deeper than that.

“I was almost done,” you whined, smacking him lightly on the chest when you resurfaced. You’d separated underwater but you were still incredibly close to him.

“I told you, I was bored,” he said, moving your wet hair with his fingers and tucking it behind your ear. Your breath caught in your throat at the contact. His eyes have never looked bluer than they have in that moment with the water reflecting in them.

Haydn’s fingers were still tingling, electrified with the skin to skin contact and he was desperate that you felt it too. His eyes flickered down to your lips. He wondered if he’d be able to taste the banana chapstick you’d applied before breakfast this morning.

Without even thinking about it, you‘d shifted closer to him. You contemplated wrapping your legs around his torso, seeing as it was growing more difficult to tread water with how close you were. Your body acted before you’d even made up your mind, but his hands found your thighs faster than your brain could function and your arms were already tucked behind his head.

The two of you were seemingly locked in a daze. No words passed between you but your whole world was screaming excitement. Every nerve ending in your body was shooting off as you held him close, allowing yourself to admire him in a way you’d previously held yourself back from.

Your fingers traced the deck of cards on his left arm. You knew the tattoo meant a lot to him, he’d told you what it meant when he’d forced you to come along with him when he’d gotten it done.

“I think we should head in for lunch,” Haydn said after a minute or two, mentally cursing himself for ruining the moment but he had a bigger problem at hand. Particularly the one below the belt.

He allowed you to climb the ladder to the dock before him, claiming it to be a ladies first ordeal, and watched as you made it halfway to the house before following you out himself. You were already inside making sandwiches when he shuffled inside and into the half-bath downstairs without so much as a word. He knew it was risky but you couldn’t potentially walk in the way you could if he took care of things in his bedroom. He had already contemplated just trekking upstairs to take another cold shower but he’d taken enough of those in the past week to last him a lifetime.

You hadn’t been able to get the moment from the lake out of your mind since it happened. You caught yourself wondering if Haydn had wanted to kiss you the way you’d wanted to kiss him more than a time or two.

June was drawing to a close but you felt like your summer with Haydn was just beginning.

You’d had two too many white claws—plus one of Haydn’s beers—for the evening and you were really starting to feel it when you struggled to sit upright near the fire pit. You’d been trying to finish off the box before your weekly grocery run in the morning but you were starting to regret your decision.

“We’ll get some more firewood in the morning, too,” Haydn said, throwing the last big piece of wood from the pile onto the top of the blazing fire.

You stared at him in your drunken haze when he sat back down next to you. The stories were coming out slower tonight but the silence was not completely unwelcome. It was hard to have an awkward silence between the two of you after all the years you’d spent being friends.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” you whispered just loud enough for him to hear. His heart skipped a beat at the insinuation.

“What?” he asked. He’d heard you perfectly.

“That day in the lake. Why didn’t you kiss me?” you asked again, though a tad slurred. And in that moment he wished he could travel back in time and kiss you the way he’d dreamed about so many times. Maybe he’d be able to show you how in love with you he’d been since he was ten years old. Maybe you’d actually feel the same.

It was oddly reminiscent of when you were fourteen and you’d been in the same predicament with a boy named John. John had taken you out to the movies—or, at least, his mom had. He’d been the first boy to ever really ask you out and you thought if you prettied yourself up enough you might be able to finagle a first kiss out of it.

Of course, later that night you’d been in the same predicament on the phone with Haydn asking why this stupid freshman boy couldn’t man up and kiss you.

Had it been because of you? Had you misread both situations in your life. Had you seriously misjudged where you stood with both boys to the point that you thought you were getting a kiss only to be left high and dry and wondering why.

Maybe all of this was just the alcohol in your system talking. Or, maybe it was just because both boys had been scared.

“We should go inside,” he said as he repeated his fire ending ritual. It sizzled and sparked before erupting in a cloud of smoke. Then it was silent.

“Haydn,” you mumbled as he helped you up from your chair. You staggered when you fully reached your feet partially from the heartbreak of Haydn not responding to your question and partly from being drunk off your ass.

He helped you up the stairs and into your bedroom without another word. There were too many thoughts running through his brain right now for him to get a coherent sentence out, anyway.

The only problem was that you started stripping down to your underwear the second you stepped into the room.

“Woah, uhm,” Haydn said, wide eyed, before he clamped his hand over his eyes. He figured it shouldn’t matter that much, he saw you in a bikini just about every day, but this just felt so much dirtier.

“I’m decent,” you hummed as you threw yourself face first onto the duvet.

“Well, I’m just gonna-“

“Stay,” you said. “Please.”

“Alright,” he sighed before helping you both under the covers of the California King bed. You were asleep almost instantly and he just smiled fondly as he watched you curl up into his side. Maybe he’d be able to really explain everything in the morning. When you were sober.

The light pouring in from the open curtains caused a string of profanities to ungracefully fall from your lips as you smacked at your bedside table in an attempt to find your phone. You opened your eyes, barely, and squinted when you couldn’t find it in a few slaps only for your eyes to be met with a small glass of water and two gel caps of Advil with a note in Haydn’s scrawl.

I figured this would help the hangover. xx

You popped them in your mouth quickly, downing the water in about two gulps before grabbing the first piece of clothing you saw on your floor and heading into the en-suite to get somewhat presentable. You could hear the stove being used when you made your way down the stairs for breakfast.

“Thanks for the pills,” you said, making yourself somewhat comfortable at one of the island stools as Haydn hunched over the stove. You could smell the bacon but not much else. You eyed the clock over the fridge and noticed you’d slept way past your usual nine am wake up call.

“I went to the store already so we don’t have to worry about that,” Haydn chimed in when he saw you eyeing the new loaf of bread next to the fruit bowl.

“Do you remember what I asked you last night?” you asked, your heart dropping into the pit of your stomach as you vaguely recalled your own question.

“Yeah,” he said. He moved the pan of eggs to the eye that was shut off before turning to face where you were seated at the island.

“Why didn’t you say anything,” you continued.

“You were drunk-“

“Then, why didn’t you kiss me?” you asked again. It was already out there. You couldn’t take anything back you’d said last night so all you could do from here was push forward.

“I should’ve,” he said finally. “I should’ve kissed you.”

You got up from where you were sitting, moving around so that you were practically chest to chest with him again. You were right before. His eyes were definitely bluer in the water.

“Kiss me now,” you whispered. The dull aching your head was replaced with the intense feeling of his lips on yours. His lips were chapped, expectedly so, but they felt incredible against your own. He tasted like crest toothpaste and coffee and the combination was intoxicating.

His hands were on your hips in a second, lifting you to set you on the countertop so you were fully level. They were moving quickly, up your sides and back down again, digging into the flesh of your waist.

“Nice sweatshirt,” he said after pulling back slowly. You looked down to see you’d grabbed his from the night before rather than your own.

“I love you,” you whispered. And it was true. You’d loved him since you were fourteen when he comforted you after your first date with John. You’d loved him every day of the past ten years and you weren’t afraid of it anymore.

“I love you,” he said. “I’ve loved you since I was ten.”

tags @ptersparkers @annedub @corebore123 @damndunner @kiedhara @watermelon05 @sidscrosbyy

[asweetprologue]

me lámh le do lámh - Part IV

First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

They spent a few days in Oxenfurt, mostly for Jaskier’s benefit. The bard hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wasn’t prepared to head out. There was packing to be done, his rooms to see to, appointments to cancel with the university. Geralt was happy enough to wait. It wasn’t strictly a hardship to spend some time lounging in Jaskier’s rooms and wandering the university gardens during the day before following Jaskier to whatever tavern or hall he was to play at for the evening. Jaskier was away for the better part of most days, but Geralt moved his things to Jaskier’s rooms after the first night at the inn. Waking well before Jaskier in the same bed, he was greeted each morning to Jaskier’s arm slung across his chest, warm and comfortable in the predawn silence. His cheeks would be ruddy with sleep and their shared heat under the blankets, his hair flattened awkwardly to his skull where it had been pressed to the pillow.

He’d missed this. After months without Jaskier’s presence, it felt like he was drowning in it, shocked by the strength of his own reaction. With the golden light of the morning sun shining through Jaskier’s one window to fall softly across his brow and pick out the silver strands in his hair, Geralt wondered at how he could have ever misplaced this feeling in his chest. He loved him. He wanted to preserve each moment in fine amber, never to fade.

But finally Jaskier was finished making his arrangements, and they were able to set out from Oxenfurt towards their first destination. It would take them several weeks to collect the components that Ida had mentioned—weeks that Geralt would have to spend dancing around the subject of the ritual and its origins, as well as his traitorous heart. As he caught Jaskier’s bright smile from up ahead as they crossed the Oxenfurt bridge, he hoped that he wasn’t making a terrible mistake.

*

“So where, exactly, are these mysterious elven ruins?”

Geralt grunted, both in answer and in exertion as he swung his sword through another clump of heavy brush, clearing the path. Roach waited patiently behind him, and Jaskier less so. He turned to look back at them both, finding Jaskier giving him an unimpressed look. Geralt forced down the urge to grumble again. “They’re close,” he said, taking Roach’s reins to lead her through the cleared bushes. The path that they were following was barely a deer trail in places, clearly unused for decades. There had been no sign thus far that the area had once been populated aside from the occasional flash of white brickwork that told Geralt they were on the right track.

“Oh, really,” said Jaskier, who had likely not noticed the brickwork, based on Geralt’s past experience with his observation skills. “You know what I think, Geralt? I think we’re lost in the woods in the middle of nowhere, a day away from the nearest hamlet, and we’re just as likely to find a wyvern den as an elven temple out here.”

“Wyverns don’t populate the lowlands,” Geralt said automatically, kicking a large branch out of Roach’s path.

Jaskier made a strangled sound behind him that Geralt might call a growl if it had come from anyone else. “I know that, I was being hyperbolic, you ass. You’re avoiding the issue.”

“We’re on the right path.” Another glint of white stone caught his eye, this time the edge of an arch wrapped nearly over in vines and moss. Only fragments remained, large chunks blending in with the forest floor.

“As if you would admit it if you were lost,” Jaskier griped, shoving a branch out of his own way. “Remember that time near Spikeroog? We were lost in a boat for three days because you wouldn’t just admit that we went west for six hours—”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, and pushed aside the last of the foliage.

Jaskier fell silent, and they both looked beyond the treeline into the clearing Geralt had revealed. Before them rose a silent, crumbling stone structure, pale as a ghost against the dark lines of the trees in the afternoon light. Much of its surface had been reclaimed already by the forest, but enough of it poked through to give a general sense of scale. It towered at least two stories above them, though the edges were uneven in a way that suggested it once may have been higher. The front facade rose in a flat wall before them, pierced by a line of arches, their edges decorated in fading but intricate reliefs. Here and there along the line of what had once been the path leading to the central arch, the occasional protrusion of a column could be seen. The path beyond the central arch was shadowed, too dark for even Geralt to see past after so long in the daylight.

Jaskier stepped forward into the narrow clearing, and Geralt followed. Wordlessly, Jaskier raised a hand to trail along the remnants of a low, circular stone wall, perhaps the remnants of an ancient well. When he looked up at Geralt, his eyes shone, two pieces of midday sky in the murky shade of the forest. “I stand corrected,” he said, offering Geralt a giddy grin.

Geralt shook his head with a small smile, drawing Roach further into the clearing. “Let’s set up camp here. You can explore when we have someplace to sleep.”

Jaskier agreed eagerly and they both launched into the process of setting up camp. They fell easily back into old patterns, Jaskier slotting seamlessly into Geralt’s routine. It was always easier to set up and break down camp when the bard was around, though Geralt thought it had very little to do with splitting the work halfway.

Within half an hour they had created a comfortable camp in the clearing and Geralt had Roach tended to, and they both stood before the dark archway into the ruins.

Jaskier hesitated over the threshold, his excitement over the history of the place apparently conceding to nerves. “Well, ah. After you, witcher,” he said, holding out an arm as if holding an imaginary door for Geralt to walk through.

Geralt rolled his eyes and stepped into the small hall beyond the archway, blinking a few times to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. “Come on, bard,” he called over his shoulder, amusement and affection swelling in his chest as he heard Jaskier mutter and quick footsteps follow after him.

The hall ended in a flight of stairs leading down, and they had to pause to light a torch when Jaskier ran directly into Geralt’s back and nearly knocked them both down it. A quick burst of igni had firelight dancing across the smooth white stones as they descended into the ruins.

Elves, Geralt had found, rarely built up. Though their cities had towered in ages past, their true magnificence had always lain below ground. The complex that they made their way down into was labyrinthian, huge open hallways with dozens of rooms and offshoots, archways that looked in on underground courtyards with pierced ceilings that let in the daylight, huge caverns expertly carved into cathedrals. Jaskier quickly brought out a bit of charcoal he often used for taking notes or sketching and began to mark their way with arrows pointing back the way they’d come, so they might not be hopelessly lost in the ruins. Geralt led them mostly by smell, at first; Triss had mentioned that any ritual chambers would likely be on the lower levels, as they were considered private and upper floors were generally public. He followed the cool, chalky scent of wet stone deeper into the ruins, down ramps and stairways until they were all but buried in the earth.

“I never knew the true breadth of them,” Jaskier breathed at one point, as they made their way down a winding spiral staircase that curved along what seemed like a natural cave shaft. “I’ve read, of course, about the scale of the old elven kingdoms, but it’s different to see it all. We’ve been walking for hours already and I feel as if there’s still miles to be seen.”

“Maybe not miles,” Geralt said, keeping one ear out for potential movement and one on Jaskier’s footsteps on the slick stone steps. “One’s I’ve been to before are usually somewhere around five and fifteen levels. We’re getting close to the bottom.”

Jaskier hummed in acknowledgment. “You could take an entire lifetime to study this place. Why hasn’t anyone surveyed it? How do you know the thing you're after for this ritual hasn’t already been taken?”

At that moment Geralt heard a gentle click, and he reached up just in time to pluck the arrow from the air as it hissed past his ear and towards Jaskier’s head. Slowly, he turned to look over his shoulder, finding Jaskier wide eyed behind him. Looking meaningfully down at Jaskier’s foot, he jerked his chin up.

Jaskier lifted up his foot, and the click of a pressure plate resetting filled the narrow space.

“That’s how,” Geralt said, tossing the arrow to the side.

“Of course,” Jaskier said weakly. “Of course the place is booby trapped.”

“And haunted probably,” Geralt agreed, continuing down the stairs. “Stay close. Wouldn’t want you to die before I can make you immortal.” The words were said as much in jest as he could make them, but he felt a brief strum of anxiety all the same.

Jaskier huffed in annoyance, but Geralt could feel him press even closer. He ignored the way that the air between them seemed to heat, the soothing warmth of Jaskier’s presence pressing back the dark more efficiently than any torch.

*

“Look,” Jaskier’s voice came from behind him. Geralt turned around to see Jaskier rubbing at a patch of the wall in the hall they were currently trekking through, the ancient slabs of stone crumbling a bit at his touch. “There’s writing here.”

Geralt stepped up next to him, feeling Jaskier’s warmth radiating along his side. Forcing himself to ignore the proximity, he leaned in to peer at the wall. “Elder, looks like. Can’t make it out.”

“It looks like one of the early northern dialects, closer to Laith aen Undod.” Jaskier scrambled in his small pack and pulled out his bit of charcoal and his notebook, handing the torch off to Geralt. Accepting the light, Geralt frowned at Jaskier as he made a few quick lines on the paper, referring back to the wall a few times. His tongue poked just barely out between his lips, as it always did when he was concentrating. After a moment he stood up straight, leaning towards the light to examine his own markings.

“Can you read that?” Geralt asked, genuinely surprised. He was fairly well versed in Elder, but his knowledge was more practical, learned from his interactions with the Scoia’tael and learning the Signs. The One Speech was well beyond his understanding, not to mention the various ancient dialects of Elder.

“Mm, I’m better at reading Elder than I am at speaking it, I’m afraid. Academic knowledge. Have to be able to translate the old poems and stories, after all.” He flashed Geralt a grin, the laugh lines deepening around his eyes. They sparkled in the light of the torch, turning the blue silver-gold. Geralt’s breath caught in his throat.

When Geralt didn’t respond quickly enough, Jaskier turned back to the notes he’d made on the paper. He muttered a few things to himself in Elder, the words sounding oddly musical—as if he’d learned to pronounce the language through song, which he probably had. Finally he scribbled a few notes in Common. “I think it’s a road sign, of sorts,” Jaskier said slowly. His tone took on the particular quality that Geralt had come to recognize as his “professor voice” over the years. He’d always found it rather amusing. “This complex must have been big enough to necessitate passage markers. See the sideways arrowhead under the top line? It says—well, I’m not sure, but I know the root has to do with the evening meal, so I’d guess it’s pointing to some kind of tavern or dining hall. And this one just says ‘sanctuary,’ I think. That’s a weird one, that symbol in more modern Elder just means ‘place’ but there’s a prefix here that adds a sort of defensive quality to it. Maybe ‘protected place’?” Jaskier frowned down at his own work. Already he had somehow managed to smudge charcoal across his cheek.

“Might be right,” Geralt grunted, impressed. “Triss said it would be in a safe place. ‘Ionad chosanta.’”

Jaskier hummed thoughtfully. “Could be as good a translation as any.”

“Better than wandering around,” Geralt shrugged, and turned towards the hall the arrow pointed towards. Before stepping into the darkness, he paused, looking back at Jaskier. Without letting himself think too hard about it, he reached up and rubbed away the charcoal on Jaskier’s cheekbone. The sweep of his thumb pushed back the soot and revealed the pale skin underneath, still so soft even after so many years spent traveling out in the elements. That skin care regiment Jaskier was always going on about must be worth something, he thought faintly.

Jaskier was silent, staring at him with an expression that reminded Geralt of a hare staring down the point of an arrow. Clearing his throat briefly, Geralt let his hand fall and said, “Thanks. For the… You did good.”

Even in the dim light, Geralt could see the flush that lit up Jaskier’s face at that, spilling prettily over his cheekbones. He gaped at Geralt for a moment before his mouth snapped closed with a near audible clack. Geralt expected a witty rejoinder of some kind, perhaps a jab at his historical inability to offer praise. He knew he deserved it, even if Jaskier meant it in anger rather than jest. Raising Ciri had taught him the value of voicing his appreciation and affection for others, even if he still struggled for the right words to do so. Yennefer had painstakingly beat it into his head. Ciri hadn’t known that he cared unless he said so, and so he had no other alternatives. Looking at Jaskier gaping at him, he wondered how many times Jaskier had assumed that Geralt cared little for him for lack of a kind word. His chest hurt at the thought.

After long enough that the silence had grown heavy and awkward, Jaskier coughed lightly, ducking to hide his expression. The ribbing Geralt had prepared himself for did not come. “Not a problem,” was all Jaskier said, brushing past him. “Let’s get a move on, yes? Don’t want the torch to run low.”

Geralt stared after him for a moment before shaking his head and following.

*

The shrine, when they found it, was hidden behind a thick patch of rubble that Geralt had to blast out of the way with a few precise applications of aard. He slipped inside first, sliding through the small opening in the stone and landing lightly on the other side. His eyes adjusted quickly to the gloom, to his surprise, and he realized that there were several glowing crystals embedded in the walls around him at even intervals. There came the sound of cascading stones and a low curse from behind him, and he turned in time to catch Jaskier’s elbow before the bard fell flat on his face.

“Ah, thank you, dear witcher,” Jaskier huffed, reaching up to fruitlessly brush the dust from his jacket. Looking up, he halted in his motions, taking in the room around them in its soft, ethereal light. “Oh,” he breathed.

It was indeed beautiful, even in its decaying state. Like everything in the tunnels, the structures were unmistakably elven, but even so they appeared alien to Geralt’s eyes. The walls were covered in delicate mosaic work, in patterns that danced in the flickering light of their torch and that of the crystals. The center of the room was dominated by a blank circle of unmarked stone, with Elder runes engraved along the edge that Geralt could not even begin to decipher. The circle was framed by a delicate canopy of carved white stone, supported on four pillars of the same material. The carvings were so minute that for a moment Geralt thought the entire structure might be built not of stone, but of some sort of webbing or silk. It was delicate enough to be blown glass, but when he set his hand against one of the pillars it was as unforgiving as a mountainside.

Jaskier ran his fingers along one of the walls, tracing a twist in the tiny shards of colored glass. “It’s beautiful,” he said, voice pitched low.

“Triss said these places were sacred to the Aes Sidhe. They mark where the elves first arrived,” Geralt said. He found his own gaze drawn back to the center of the unmarked circle beneath the canopy. “Here.”

Set into the very center of the stone circle was a small depression, no larger than Geralt’s palm. He stepped into the circle and knelt down, peering at it. Within the shallow bowl formed by the carved out floor sat an oval stone, maybe three inches long at its widest point. Drawing out his trophy knife, Geralt set the edge of it against the lip of the facet and twisted it. It popped out surprisingly easily, as if it was meant to be removed by design.

Jaskier hovered behind him as Geralt picked up the gaes carraigh. It was cool against his fingers, made of a translucent white stone that became more opaque at the edges. The center was nearly see-through, and when Geralt held it up the light played oddly in its depths. His medallion hummed faintly against his chest, warning him of the presence of magic. “Is that it?” Jaskier asked, resting one of his hands on Geralt’s shoulder to lean in closer.

“Think so,” Geralt replied, trying to ignore the weight of Jaskier pressed against him.

“What exactly does it do?” Jaskier reached out his free hand to press a finger against the center of the stone, curious as always. Geralt allowed it, and forced himself not to flinch when their fingers brushed incidentally. He could feel his ears warm regardless.

“It… binds the words of the ritual, or something. I didn’t ask.”

“Gaes carraigh… promise rock?” Jaskier tried, dropping to lean his full elbow on Geralt’s shoulder, casually slotting their forms together. His fingers barely brushed against Geralt’s collarbone, and he took a slow breath to maintain control over his heartbeat. Suddenly the proximity was overwhelming. Here they were, in a sacred space where possibly dozens of couples had made their vows to each other, fingers both lingering over the stone that would bind their oaths. In another life, perhaps they could have had something like this—Jaskier resplendent in the light of the blue crystals, eyes shining, looking at Geralt with adoration as they made their promises to each other. He would want to dress up, like he always did for a big event, but this time it would be only for himself and Geralt. Would he dress in blue? Or perhaps black, a witcher’s color, his pale skin like moonlight against the night sky. Would he wear a crown of periwinkle and sage, as was the northern custom? He would lean in close, like he was now, and murmur his vows to Geralt in words that flowed as smooth as a song.

He hadn’t known it was possible to want something so badly it was like a physical ache. Geralt was a witcher; he did not allow himself to think on things he couldn’t have. But here in this place, with Jaskier so close and yet so far away, the force of his desire felt oppressive. Jaskier didn’t know what any of this meant, and Geralt had no right to it, no right to want it. It was just a ritual. The context didn’t mean anything, because Jaskier would never feel that way about him.

After all, Geralt thought, looking down at the oathstone in his palm, who would want to marry a witcher?

Jaskier was still talking, and Geralt wrenched himself out of his thoughts when the arm on his shoulder pulled back and Jaskier patted the empty space once, as if in parting. “—probably get going, don’t you think? I do not relish the idea of being stuck here overnight. Not that I am not entirely confident in your abilities, darling, but I feel it’s best not to tempt fate when it comes to ghosts of ancient elven sages. Do you think they would count this as stealing? Probably. Anyways, I don’t want to find out what angry centuries old spirits do to trespassers.”

Geralt grunted, still gathering himself. He felt sluggish under the weight of his own emotions, pushing himself to his feet laboriously. The oathstone was heavy in his hand, and he slipped it into his potions pouch in the hope that it would feel less burdensome there. Without a word, he stood and exited the chamber the way they’d come, Jaskier fumbling after him.

[jae-writes-fanfiction]

omgggg im stoked ur on the slasher train now!!! for ur spooky event could you do drabbles for them comforting a really kinda sad s/o??? ik this wasnt on the prompts list but 2020 has been v rough and i just wanna be held 😔

Pick Me Off The Ground

Notes: I ended up writing this for Pelle, The Candyman, Hannibal, Tiffany Valentine, Jennifer Check, and Susie Bannion. It’s been a long ass time since I got a drabbles request, I hope the formatting is okay.

Warnings: Refernces to being sad, I struggle with depression/anxiety so some of the terminology and descriptions I use can be trigger or relate to depression, also they’re all murderers. Enjoy Responisbly ❤️

- - -

Pelle

Your shoulders slumped and you hid your face on the cot trying to muffle the chocked sobs racking through your body. This entire trip was a disaster. You’d woken up that morning with a positive outlook, sure the Hårga wasn’t what you expected. But their beliefs and rituals, although grim, were fascinating as far as anthropology and psychology go. Pelle had shown you around all day, even letting you see pages from their sacred text. But when you got back to the center of town you were confronted by the other angry tourists complaining your friends had taken the only transport and left.

You were embarrassed by their rude behavior, and absolutely heartbroken that they hadn’t cared to wait for you. Members of the Hårga had calmed the other tourists and promised to take them to the airport as soon as possible. You felt utterly alone, and displaced. You froze when you felt a hand on your shoulder, your mind scrambling for an apology to send whoever was there away.

“I’m sorry about our friends,” Pelle said quietly, his voice soothing and remorseful.

You sniffled and sat up, wiping your eyes. “I’ve felt for a while I wasn’t fitting it but I didn’t know...” you bit your lip but couldn’t keep your eyes from welling with tears again.

Pelle sat closer to you, and pulled you into his arms. He didn’t say anything, just let you cry and for the first time in a very long time, it felt like someone truly cared about you. You felt warm, and safe.

- - -

The Candyman (Daniel Robitaille)

Every bone in your body ached, you were exhausted body and soul. Life had gotten to be so draining, so stagnent and empty. Your career felt stale and the late hours impossibly fruitless. You had just enough energy to kick your shoes off and drop your things at the door before collapsing into bed.

At first you were restless, tossing and turning your body unable to relax. Desperately you turned to gaze and whisper at the mirror over your dresser. You knew he didn’t like be summoned without a more malevolent purpose, but you were always the exception. You couldn’t feel his weight on the bed, but you could feel his presence in the room instantly.

You smiled softly as you felt his arms around you. You turned in his arms wishing he could appear in something other than the cloak, although you appreciated the added warmth.

“Daniel,” you whispered pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, you could feel him faintly but the smile on his face was plain enough to lift your spirits slightly.

“Hush, my love. Rest.” His voice, like always, filled the room around you yet at the same time sounded miles away. For a moment you felt as if the burdens weighing you down were just phantoms. In another minute you were asleep, pleasant dreams and your lover beside you keeping you at peace.

- - -

Hannibal Lecter

The rain outside soaked into your jacket as you got home from work. Classical music was already playing as you shucked your jacket and boots off in the mud room. Keeping your head down you walked directly to your room and closed the door. Sometimes when you had a bad day, Hannibal overstepped the line between psycho-killer boyrfriend and professional psychologist. You knew him, and he knew you all your darkest secrets. Yet sometimes when your own mind turned on you for no reason, you didn’t want to come home to another therapist.

You peeled the wet clothes off your body and dug around for your favorite pair of flannel bottom, and that one shirt of his that always ended up in your laundry. The softness of the fabric, the warmth of the flannel, the hint of his aftershave- they were all impossibly small comforts in the wake of what you knew to be a wave large enough to drown in.

Felling a little better you emerged from the non-confrontational sanctuary of your bedroom. You wandered into the living room and curled yourself into the corner of the couch. You picked up a book and turned the pages but the words weren’t sticking. You looked up from the pages, as Hannibal walked into the room carrying a tray.

“It’s your favorite,” he said smiling softly setting the tray down on the end table next to you. The food smelled perfect, the dish was one from your childhood and the drink along with it was your absolute favorite year and type of wine. The pairing was one you had never thought to put together, another glaring example of Hannibal’s particular genius. He sat next to you on the sofa reading quietly. Although it couldn’t fix or change how you felt, it was helpful to know even now, someone cared about you.

- - -

Tiffany Valentine

You were curled up in a ball, the tears still fresh on your face when Tiff got home.

“I swear to god I’ll kill him!” She said looking over your saddened state. Mascara ran down your face, your hair was disheveled and your eyes looked so sad it broke Tiffany’s little black heart clean in two.

Your boss had become a problem. He acted too familiar in private, around other employees he made jokes about your appearance, about your performance, hell he even made fun of your picture of Tiffany once. Nothing was off limits because he was the boss.

“He kept jokin’ during the meeting about firing me,” you said between sniffles, “I’ve worked there for five years I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong.”

She crossed the room quickly to pull you into a hug. “You didn’t do anything wrong hes just a dick,” she said firmly. You laughed, and couldn’t help smiling through the tears as she held you. The soft curves of her body were inviting and promised you nothing would ever hurt you again.

“Now let’s get you all cleaned up we’re going out!” Your protestes were silenced with a quick kiss. “There’s nothing better than a hot date, and a little retail therapy,” she said with a wink pulling you to your feet.

You nodded and let her lead you by the hand back out to the car. Anytime you had a bad day she pulled out all the stops until you were absolutely spoiled and tonight would be no different- except tomorrow morning at work you’d get another present. And Tiffany would add another man to her list of recently deceased assholes.

- - -

Jennifer Check

It was past midnight when your girlfriend came home, covered in blood. It wasn’t an unusual sight but the dress she had been wearig was in tatters and you were certain some of the fluid was hers.

Panic quickly set in, and you ran to her side your hands flashing over her body trying to stop the bleeding. You pulled your shaking hands away, they were covered in dark blood. As She gasped and fainted you ran to catch her and smeared the dark substance over her skin.

As her surprisingly human looking body hit the ground, you woke up. The nightmare made your skin crawl, and you could feel tears streaming down your face. Jennifer, who wasn’t dead yet wasn’t exactly alive, laid next to you.

She lazily threw an arm around you and pulled you closer. “I’m right here,” she mumbled sleepily. You shuddered as she kissed the lines of tears on your face. The gesture made fresh tears threaten to spill over, but you bit your lip and instead snuggled closer into her chest. For now she was there, for now things would be okay. You felt her stroke and play with your hair as you drifted off to sleep.

- - -

Susie Bannion

You stormed through the dormitories, stopping only at your bed. You haphazardly grabbed shirts and linens stuffing them into the suitcase on top of your mattress. If the other girls didn’t think you were up to snuff, that was their problem. You didn’t have to stay.

Your bag was mostly packed when you started biting back tears. You’d worked your whole life for this chance, would you really give up now just because they wanted you too? You didn’t know that answer but you did know something inside you felt broken. Shakily, you sat down on th edge of your bed and held your head in your hands.

“Are you okay?” You quickly looked up and saw Susie standing there her head slightly cocked to the side as she observed your hastily packed case and distraught appearance.

You shrugged helplessly and tried to wipe the tears from your face.

“I don’t belong here,” you said. Your tone sounded like a challenge and Susie wasn’t one to back down. She dropped herself to sit next to you, and started stroking your hair as you began to cry openly.

“You’re the only one that belongs here,” she whispered wrapping an arm around you. You felt her kiss the top of your head, and it was like magic. As if she had chosen you to be her person, and in that moment the world changed and you were no longer an outsider.

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Hey @vindicatedvirgil remember this prompt you sent a while back that was supposed to be Rociet but I changed my mind? I finally finished the original!

At the Last Second

Summary:   Inspired by Snowing in Venice by Elizaveta. In an attempt to get as far away from their hometown as possible, Janus decides to go to college in Venice, Italy. Roman is conflicted over his feelings about it and doesn't know what to say until the last second.

Warnings: asthma mention. Please let me know if there are more

Ships: Janus x Roman, Rociet

WC: 1, 985

General Taglist: (ask to be tagged generally or in specific writing.) @im-an-anxious-wreck @logans-library @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi

Maybe my song, isn’t happy enough but I

I see it take flight with the snowflakes above

My coffee gets cold, as I’m staring enthralled 

At the snow that keeps falling outside

-----

Roman snuck another glance at Janus when they thought he wasn’t looking, seeing him still smiling slightly and nodding along to whatever song was on that Roman couldn’t concentrate on right now because they were looking at Janus. It wasn’t as if this was a new occurrence, they looked at Janus all the time. When he took half assed notes during class, pushing his soft, straight hair out from in front of his eyes with practiced impatience. When he glided along beside Roman on his skateboard while they tried desperately to keep their eyes on the sidewalk lest they flip over the handlebars of their bike. When he walked towards them with that signature crookeds smile, straight backed but casual and always ready with some biting quip they would both laugh at. And now- when he was driving to the airport for college, Roman sat beside him destined to waste away in the small town they had grown up in, alone and forgotten.

Admittedly that was dramatic even for them but it felt true all the same. Roman had never really gotten along with Janus until high school hit, when Roman had actually started looking away from their own little bubble and out towards everyone else’s. For the life of them they couldn’t imagine why they had ever been enemies. Janus was smart, scarily so sometimes, often getting into debates (arguments) with Logan and Virgil in any given class and always seeming to have just the right phrase or quote or research paper handy to pull up on his phone that drove his points across. He could sing, though Roman didn’t admit they had heard him while he painted the theater sets one day until many months later; his beautifully haunting baritone filling the theater as if he was the only one ever meant to sing in it. He was also incredibly caring, helping Roman through rough patch after rough patch and letting Roman do the same for him. They had become nearly inseparable from ninth grade on but now-

Janus had always been smart and always wanted to move as far away from their hometown as possibly- namely his family but that was another topic entirely. Roman had helped him research colleges when they were in eleventh grade, jokingly saying that with all his dramatics and flair he should go to Paris to study, citing it as a place to find the romanticism he alway put into everything anyway. Learning he had taken that to heart as a possibility to get even further away, eventually enrolling in and getting accepted not to anywhere in Paris, but instead Venice, Italy had nearly torn Roman in two. They had been so incredibly happy for and proud of their friend but they selfishly wished he had stayed just a little bit closer. Roman dreamed of a teaching job, somewhere they could help out in the creative department helping kids like them come out of their shell and discover new talents and passions. They didn’t need to go overseas for that- they didn’t want to and was in the process of preparing to move a state over to go to a community college to start out that path.

So Janus was moving thousands of miles away for who knew how long (four years at least) and Roman would then only be furthering that gap with his own move, leaving them to letters and skype calls as the primary source of communication rather than their trips to the cake shop or late night talks at the local park. And Roman knew that should be enough, but he was already missing the weight of Janus’ hand in their own and his warmth at their side during movie marathons and their smile and laugh and stupid, sarcastic sense of humor. They snuck  another glance over but realized with a start Janus was looking at them, his hand off the wheel and- when had the car stopped? They couldn’t possibly be there already could they?

But they were, and Janus was looking at them with that all knowing look that always infuriated Roman to no end but he said nothing, instead reaching over and squeezing their hand before moving to get out of the car. The airport wasn’t really that far away from their town, just an hours drive to the edge of the city but Roman still felt they had just wasted it pouting instead of actively being there for their best friend. Janus wouldn’t say anything though, he probably knew how Roman was feeling before they knew themself but the knowing silence was somehow worse, filling the space between them that was about to get so much longer with too many words and not enough time to say them. Nevertheless they grabbed up a bag and smiled at the other, shutting the trunk after him and following to the waiting area. They had made good time, having a little over an hour to waste before Janus would have to board, which Roman had previously been ecstatic about but now it meant they might actually have to talk and they didn’t think they’d have the common sense to keep their mouth shut when it came to how they actually felt about him leaving.

“Roman, did you leave my medical bag in the car?” Janus’ concern pulled them out of their head as they looked around where they had decided to sit, sure it had been among the things they had picked up but they didn’t notice the unmistakable bright orange anywhere.

“I’ll go check, you stay with the bags so they don’t get stolen.” Janus nodding to give them the go-ahead had them turning on their heel and hurrying back towards the parking garage, twirling the keys around their finger as they went.

One thorough search of the car later and Roman was frantically texting Janus that they must have left it at the house, though how either of them had managed it they couldn’t fathom. 

Roman: I’ll just drive back and get it. Text you when I find it.

Janus: Hold on, let me get there since you left me with ALL THE BAGS

Roman: It’ll be faster if I just go. Let me be the dashing prince to rescue your trip!

Roman started the car up and quickly put it into reverse, not really thinking about practically stealing Janus’ car from him. Their phone buzzed from the passenger seat as he glanced in the rear view before pulling out completely, wincing as he saw Janus standing there where the car had just been parked. Several buzzes later and the car fell silent, making them bite back a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. They had wanted an out from the tense hour that waiting for the flight would have been, they just wished it had been something a bit more low stakes than forgetting a bag with Janus’ epipen and inhaler inside. Settling further down into the seat they concentrated hard on the road, praying there wouldn’t be any traffic.

-----

Ten minutes.

Roman practically face planted on their way out of the car, swinging the bag up in triumph of finding it or fear of breaking it they didn’t know and was too busy to think about at the moment. Tearing through the air port as fast as they possibly could they finally found Janus standing near the line people were in to board the plane, glancing at his phone before looking around for any sign of Roman coming with his bag. In their haste they had forgotten to text him but they were here now- sweaty, gross and aching with all the things they wanted to say but didn't have time to even though they probably wouldn’t have taken the chance when they had it anyway. As much as they so wished this moment to be their happily ever after it was too soon in both of their lives for that and they’d have to come to terms with the fact that long distance anything was hard and they would both be busy with their own lives.

Pushing their bangs away from their face they finally reached Janus and held out the rescued bag, chest heaving from running through a house and then an airport. 

“You truly didn’t have to go all the way back on your own to get this Roman, but thank you.” Janus squinted at him and chuckled. “It’s a good thing I have this, do you need my inhaler?”

“I’d have to keep it since looking at you takes my breath away already.” Roman blurted, opening their mouth before they could think.

Janus blinked, then scowled playfully. “Roman Sanders, was that a pick up line? You waited until I’m about to leave the country to flirt with me?”

“No! ...well, yes but- I’ve flirted with you plenty before!”

“Jokingly!” Janus shoved them before grabbing at the front of their shirt and stepping closer. “You are insufferable.”

Roman hardly dared to breath as Janus leaned in closer, hands fluttering nervously at their sides as they stood still and waited. Smiling, Janus leaned up slightly. “May I have a kiss goodbye then?”

“If you don’t I will scream so loud security will take you and then you’ll have no choice but to stay here longer.”

Chuckling Janus stepped closer, erasing any pretense of space between them. Finally deciding their hands would feel less awkward resting on the others’ hips, they pulled Janus forward gently and tilted their head with his. The general din of the airport faded away as soft strands of feather light hair tickled their nose and Janus’ hands came up to tangle in their own somewhat frizzier hair at the nape of their neck. There was an announcement that vaguely sounded like Janus was being called to board but they were only held tighter as their lips finally, finally met.

And oh.

They almost wished they could sue Disney only on the merit that it had set their expectations for a first kiss entirely too low. There were no fireworks, no choir to set the mood further. It didn’t feel like the climax of their life nor like coming home after a long and tiring journey. It was soft, so very soft. A simple brush against their lips that filled them with an indescribable amount of joy for such a small action; and then they were being pulled and they followed willingly, pressing against the other just a little tighter. Their noses bumped despite the angle and Roman’s hands still felt awkward even if Janus hadn’t brushed them away but it felt like nothing and everything they had always dreamed it would be because it was Janus so it was good and perfect and like nothing they had ever experienced or wanted to experience in their life.

It only lasted a couple seconds, Janus pulling away only to peck their nose and whisper a quiet “see you later” against their lips and he was gone, hurrying towards the plane as the last call for his appearance was announced. Roman stood there, dumbfounded with a burning face but a chest that was burning  ten times hotter, hands still slightly outstretched where Janus’ waist had been moments before. Shaking themself out of it they turned swiftly and made their way over to a bench by the windows to watch the plane take off. Four years in Venice for Janus, four years in Pennsylvania for Roman.

They could do that.

-----

Maybe my song isn’t happy enough but I

I see it take flight with the snowflakes above me

My coffee gets cold as I’m staring enthralled 

This work is also available on AO3!

At the snow the keeps falling outside

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