#i used to have terrible anxiety about driving. for forever but especially since i was in an accident

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Over here, laying in bed, wondering why the thought of driving is making me hyperventilate. Realized I haven't taken my anxiety meds today. Whoops.

[guildtree]

For the romance questions - curious on your opinions on Kasjory for 11 and also 30 ☺️

You just want me to make them fight don't you xD

11. What fears, past traumas, etc. would be hardest for them to talk about with their partner?

Ooh boy, this involves some headcanoning, strap in.

For Kasmeer: I slap some PTSD and anxiety on her thanks to Balthazar and Drizzlewood conflicts. (Most of this is based off the first Eye of the North convo in EoD, where you can see Kas still feels guilty about leaving Jory behind after Balthazar and almost seems to hate her younger self). Girl has SELF-ESTEEM ISSUES before becoming ambassador, so combine that with trauma and the guilt from Balthazar, and during Icebrood Saga you get a mental anxiety spiral that's something like "Oh god I'm secretly a terrible person" -> "I should be honest and tell Jory how awful I actually am" -> "WAIT but then she might leave me and I can't handle that" -> "Oh god I'm lying to her on purpose I'm a terrible person" AAAND repeat forever. Basically, Kas needs to talk honestly about how bad she feels and the trauma that losing her faith caused her, but she won't because she feels like Jory hasn't forgiven her yet (even though by the beginning of EoD she clearly has) and that bringing it up would just be making herself a burden. I think they eventually work this out either at the tail end of Icebrood or after EoD once Kas gets a confidence boost, but it takes some doing.

For Marjory: I think there are some things about her family (minus Belinda) and how she grew up that are still hard for her to talk about. While she clearly loves her mom and sisters, there is something going on with her dad there, and I think that might be hard to talk about with Kas specifically because ... well, Kas's dad is dead, and he was a good guy, so it's hard for Kas to quite understand what not wanting to be around your father would be like since she really wishes hers was still around. Jory feels a little bad complaining about her living family members when Kas is basically an orphan. Also, it's interesting to me that Marjory appears to be the only necromancer, or indeed magic-user in her entire family; how did the other Delaquas take it when she started summoning minions? It wouldn't surprise me if they tried to get her to suppress her powers a bit for safety, or if she got branded as the weird kid, or took actions (like leaving the Ministry Gurad?) that her family disapproved of. I touched on this a tiny bit in Year of the Bunny, but I think there are a few times where Jory just casually mentions something that happened when she was a kid in a neutral tone and Kas suddenly stops her and goes, "Hey that's messed up actually, we need to talk about that."

30. What completely petty topic (music taste, favorite food) do they find themselves completely at odds with their partner about?

They cannot agree on what temperature the house should be. Ever. If Marjory is comfortable, Kasmeer is freezing; if Kas is comfortable, Jory thinks it's way too hot. There have been many suggestions to resolve this, from the idea that Jory should wear something other than black to reduce heat absorption (went over about as well as you'd expect) or that Kas should maybe consider wearing something a little more protective than a dress (also went over terribly). At this point they're just in a constant state of opening and closing windows and driving each other crazy, and the temperature of the house probably varies quite a bit from room to room depending on who's in there. The only time they agree is when it's a little too cold and they're physically close to each other, because then Kas can cuddle up and leech heat.

Another thing that's less an actual argument and more a stupid running joke: Kas likes to steal Jory's clothes to use as sweaters/pajamas/whatever, especially when they're separated for a while and she's lonely. This would be fine except for some reason Kas feels the need - either out of embarrassment or propriety or because she thinks it's funny - to lie and claim that she's not stealing anything and Jory is just losing things. This is ridiculous because 1.) Jory's very careful with her stuff and rarely loses anything and 2.) she's literally caught Kasmeer wearing things that clearly aren't hers because the clothes are black and Kas doesn't own anything darker than light gray. Kas always gives the stuff back so it doesn't really do any harm, but now they've got this steadily-escalating game where Kas tries to get away with stealing stuff and Jory keeps trying to stop her. It's gotten to the point where Kas is turning herself invisible and mesmering up fake illusion clothes so Jory doesn't notice anything missing, and Jory has a little bone minion that can sense life force guarding her wardrobe. It's ridiculous. They both know it's ridiculous. They won't stop doing it.

[gazrgaley]

Manifestation of a Monster (chapter 23)

Going into the new backyard was weird for Molly. She and Olive put in a lot of time and effort to make their garden beautiful. She was torn between the desire and the reluctance to begin over.

However, there was more to it. No, it wasn’t because she had any doubts about Richard’s reliability. In every way, he excelled. Yet there were occasions. When his drive for competition became overwhelming. And Fabian seemed to bring out the worst in him. Or it had in the past.

It was years since the two had worked together. However, she had a strong disdain for Fabian. She realised, though, that he would not have been so bad if it hadn’t been for the receptive nature of what they brought out in one another. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she failed to notice anyone open the front door or the back.

She was fixated on the bare backyard. But the feel of Richard’s arms around her waist broke her out of her growing hatred of the empty square with a whitewashed fence and her anxieties for the future.

She jumped a little as he placed his head on her shoulder. “Are you going to work your magic back here?”

She tried to respond, but all she could manage was a shrug.

“I assure you, It will not be like last time." He kissed the back of her neck softly.

“I know,” and she mostly meant it.

“You’re a terrible liar.” He said this while quietly smiling at her.

“And you’re a good one.” she turned to him, not sharing the same playful nature. It was primarily due to exhaustion, however, some of her fear also played a role. That she may lose Ricard is some crazy power trip he may sir come to was a small part of it. But the prospect of their not locating Milo worried her more.

Richard took Molly’s hand in his and led her to the edge of the yard, where a small tree stood. Protecting them from the crimson light early that morning. Subsequently, he dropped to the floor and sat down. “You’re upset,” he said, drawing Molly closer. “Let us discuss it.”

She sat down next to him, putting her head on his chest as he surrounded her with an arm. He was well aware of what was hurting her. The ability was common to their species. Especially those with whom they share a bloodline. And because Richard was the one who had changed her, their link was incredibly strong. It was unusual for him to be unable to determine how she felt.

“We will find Milo.” Even before she could respond, he had spoken. She knew he was just as worried as she was. But at least he attempted to make her feel better. “We need to track him down. If not, Grendel will remain our problem forever.” Adding the last part to easy the tension. But If they didn’t find Milo. It may be true.

“He’s not so bad,” Molly said as she made rings on his chest with her finger.

He pulled away from her slightly. “Not so bad?” The look on his face was one of shock. “For someone to party with? Yes, he’s great fun. However, his inability to keep clothing on plus the fact that he is high 90% of the time makes him an unsuitable flatmate.”

Molly ignored this as she made herself comfortable on Richard once more. “He’s not so bad. And he’s only high about half the time, tops. He just got a lot going on. Besides, if it wasn’t for him, who knows where you would be? He’s the one that completed your change.”

Richard had been born a Kaw-Sekhmu as both his parents were. But as his parents died when he was very young, it took up to meeting Grendel to fully know what he was. And stopping his ageing by fully turning him.

“Yeah, and he stocked me for nearly forty years before he ever spoke to me.” Richard sounded bitter as he spoke. But understanding that his existence was as strange for Grendel as it was for Richard himself made sense in retrospect. After all, realizing Richard was the child of two people who Milo had turned years before had thrown him off. And worried he may have been mistaken, he didn’t want to rush into introducing himself.

It was the sound of the sliding doors in the back opening. Despite the brightness, Grendel’s slowest was easily discernible. He approached the two with only a coffee mug in his hand and a pair of boxers that left nearly nothing to the imagination.

Molly’s eyes were like everyone else who had ever seen him in that state. Was pulled to a particular part of his body. Something that wouldn’t be easy to overlook, even if they desired to. The huge scar on the right side of his chest resembled a large teeth. The mark that changed him. The only scare his body would ever have.

“Where are your clothes?” Richard barked at him as Grendel stood over the pair.

He yanked at his boxers as he looked down. “More than what I normally wear,” he said with a smirk. “Hell, anyone who has spent more than a day with me has seen more.”

Richard, unimpressed, ignored his explanation. “That is not the case today, and there is a 4-year-old living here. She doesn’t need to see your STD-infected dick.”

Grendel appeared stunned, clutching his chest with one hand. Overdramatic, he gasped before abandoning all pretence of sincerity. He took a drink from the coffee cup he held before staring up into the sky. “Human illnesses cannot survive or flourish in our bodies. It’s impossible for me to have any STDs.”

“Lucky you,” Richard said, even less impressed than before.

“Indeed,” Grendel replied with a knowing grin, swaying his pelvis slightly as he spoke.

“You look awful.” Molly chimed in. She was tired enough without the two of them fighting that morning. “Did you sleep well last night?”

He shook his head, frowning."No, I had some weird dreams."

“You would tell us if it was serious? Right?” She inquired as she drew herself from the ground. “Was it about Milo?”

He made a rapid pivot to face her. “No, nothing serious. Just-” He averted his gaze. He was lying, but she would not press him.

She took his arm in hers and began guiding him to the door. “Does there happen to be any more coffee?” Richard trailed behind, still complaining about his lack of clothes.

***

Grendel had discovered a pair of pants by the time Richard was ready to go to work. Granted, they were pyjama pants. But that was the best Richard was getting from him. He did not know how long he had been there. It was an odd sensation, as if all time had passed and yet none had. Small flames appeared as specks at the abyss’s brink and percolate. Just enough to see how dreadfully dark the space was. Footsteps started to where he lay.

Richard and Molly conducted their little morning dance, with Richard packing his briefcase and Molly preparing things for Olive when she awoke in a few minutes.

From the dining nook, Grendel observed everything. His legs were nestled into his chest. He was so preoccupied with their motions that he didn’t notice when the room fell silent. Or that the mental fog he was experiencing got worse. As everything went dark, he hadn’t even seen their frightened expressions.

The floor on which he rested was frigid. Momentarily, he believed he had gone blind. Everything was pitch black around him. He attempted to move, but it was as if he were in a nightmare. His body failed to perform this simple task.

In a panic-induced stupor, his thoughts turned to the worst-case scenario. Since he could remember, his mind has reacted in this manner during stressful situations. The sensation that his soul was being torn from his body. Unaware of his circumstances. When in this state, he had committed several unfathomable acts.

Ironically, his greatest concern right now was falling into one of these states while Milo wasn’t present. Being one of the few people who could save him. But Milo simply not being there put him at a higher risk.

Despite his first feelings of existential dread, he eventually came to terms that this was not like anything he had ever experienced. First, he didn’t feel like his spirit was being torn from his body. Nothing seemed to happen at all. He was just laying there.

This understanding did not affect his lygophobia. This occurrence was a byproduct of his darkest times. Even with his fantastic night vision. In the absence of light, he was uneasy. But this wasn’t simply a dimly lit space. It was completely dark. And with no light to speak of, his eyes were rendered completely useless.

He took deep breaths while lying there, which was all he could do. Trying not to have a panic attack. He pretended that he simply had his eyes closed. He was in a brightly illuminated room. Perhaps Milo had returned and was sitting there with one of his novels. He could make them tea in a little bit and he would tell him about Olive. That would be something he would want to know about.

At that point, he picked up on it. He heard soft sounds from behind him. He listened to the footsteps that grew closer. Whoever they were, they were little. Nobody above five feet. When he heard the voice, he immediately recognised it as someone he knew. It became harder to breathe as a full panic attack engulfed him. If he needed his breath to live, he may have died at that moment.

She had been following him around in his dreams since he woke up. But until now, he told himself, it was nothing more than an illusion. A way of coping with Milo’s absence.

In these moments, he told himself they were a false sense of hope. Milo wasn’t missing. She had been telling him everything. Where they were, what they were doing. He just had to keep it to himself what she was up to and Milo would be ok. She would only kill him if he told anyone what she was doing.

But it was at this moment he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep lying to himself. This was real. This person he saw nearly every day of his human life was back. And he could assume she wasn’t happy. And what she was planning could destroy everything he knew to be true.

“It’s been a long time, Wakhakwi.” She said as she circled him, wearing the traditional kaftan, a garment that would have been worn in early 4000bc Egypt.

Her dark complexion complemented the gold braided into her wig. Gold and blue jewellery decorated her neck and arms. She might have been lovely if he hadn’t despised her so much.

“He has nothing to do with this, so let him go,” Grendel said. He tried to move, but found the action very difficult. It was as if he was in that strange stage between still dreaming and being awake. His body did not quite doing as he asked of it. They now called it a sleep paralysis demon. And after all, he had seen her do. It was more than reasonable to call her this.

“Nothing to do with this?” She laughed at him. “He’s the one who order me to be locked away forever. Or did you forget?”

“I was the one who made that order,” he spat, glaring at her as she continued to circle him. “Killing someone’s entire family. They wanted to do worse to you. You should thank me.”

The smile she was faking faded away. “Then you are just as foolish as the day I last saw you. What they had planned would have resulted in my death. A far better fate than what you did to me.” Crouching down next to him, “Do you have any idea how painful that had been for me?” The anger in her eyes slipped as she watched him, replaced with pain. But he hadn’t noticed this.

“Is he ok? Where is he?” Grendel begged. “You can just let him go. I will do nothing to stop you. You can do whatever crazy plan you have got going on. You will never see us again. I promise I will not tell anyone.”

At that moment, any sign of warmth snapped from her. “Is that what you want?” Standing up, she flicked her wrist. At the same moment, his body began to grow warm. First, it felt like a warm bath. But as time went on, so did the intensity. Then it was as if sitting in the sun for hours until it felt like his whole body was engulfed in flames. He could feel the sweat pouring from his body as if his pores were thousands of tiny spickets all over him."I may have been asleep, but I didn’t stay idle. I learned some new things too. I now can control the temperature of any liquid. including blood."

He was now grateful for the darkroom. Along with the sweat that poured from him, there was also blood. He could taste it in his mouth, smell it pouring from his nose, and feel it pooling in his eyes. Shutting his eyes, he just prayed it would end soon. This was just a dream, this was just a dream.

Everything around him began to re-form. It started with the floor underneath him. It was no longer frigid. The early dawn light poured in. Then he noticed his own body. Molly grabbed him close to her as she shoved something into his face. He attempted to take it away, but she grasped it, not letting go.

He overheard Ricard say, “Here’s a new one.” He could open his eyes enough to see Richard handing a washcloth to Molly. He attempted to knock it away, but he wasn’t able to do more the brush it with his hand. She replaced the blood-drenched one with the new one.

Richard attempted to yell orders at him. “Grendel, keep your eyes closed. There’s a lot of blood,” but Molly’s cries in his ear made it impossible to understand. Then Richards’ voice ripped through the air from the other side of the room. “Olive, go to your room for the time being,” he said, returning to his side. He was aware of what was going on around him now. But he was just out of it enough that the blood that surrounded him didn’t disturb him...as much.

“What happened?” Richard said, commandingly and compassionately. “Do you want me to call a doctor?” Grendel attempted to stand, only to stumble on his blood. He landed back in Molly’s arms. “No, I’m alright. I just,” he said, dazedly looking about. “I just need a shower and a-”

“A what? What happened?” Richard asked, his voice a little lower.

He desperately wanted to tell him. He knew he couldn’t. He wanted to see Milo again. “I can’t say anything, she knows. I can’t do anything. I can’t say-” He mumbled as he tried to stand once more.

Molly’s chance to interrogate him had arrived. “What do you mean, she? Who is she?” Molly was now at his side. Still holding him up as he tried to leave the room.

Richard interrupted her. “Let’s get him in the shower so we can discuss this later.”

[lokiskitten]

hello i love ur works omg idk if ur still accepting reqs or suggestions regarding ur stepdad! tom imagines but what abt an imagine in which tom attempts to end the secret affair between him and the reader and then the reader is heartbroken so she gets herself a boyfriend which makes tom jealous then smut ?? idk HAHAHA tyyy

Tom Hiddleston | forbidden behavior

Stepdad!Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader

plot : around a week after your stepfather called it off regarding the bond you two had developed, you are caught hanging out with a couple of friends in a café. Noticing his presence outside of the building, you decide to join him only to receive the most peculiar lecture of your life.

warnings : stepdad!trope, stepdad x stepdaughter intercourse, jealousy, slight physical abuse, kissing, crotch groping, handjob.

A week had passed since your stepfather had decided to end the relationship the two of you had progressively developed behind your mother’s back. You obviously took this as betrayal, an unnecessary decision which easily led you to develop hatred for the older man- especially after he had managed to convince you that the moments you spent together filled him with as much bliss as it did for you. But these times were now over, and your first mission easily became to avoid him as soon as you penetrated inside of your own home. Before your mother, both you and Tom were obviously forced to make an effort in order to keep your secret on the low- scared that any suspicious behavior would lead your past to come flashing under the lights of the projectors.

On a warm Friday evening, you had decided to stop by a café with a couple of your friends in order to celebrate the end of the week. Within this group stood Trystan, a boy you had finally agreed on offering a chance after breaking up with Thomas. He was nice and well educated, a mass of long black hair covering the top of his head as well as his neck. The young man also brought home plenty of nice grades, which could only be a green flag to your high expectations holding self- adding up to how he had offered to help with your mathematics homework after school. Now this was a proposition you jumped on immediately, but which you knew wouldn’t be able to take place within the walls of your house- and that due to your dragon of a stepfather.

Being too busy laughing with your classmate, you hadn’t noticed Tom’s presence outside of the café, his body leant against his car as he watched you fall for someone else. In fact, he had been following you on your way back home from college nearly every day of the week- satisfying the weird obsession he held for your younger self and easing his crippling anxiety and possessive behaviors. Seeing you with another man couldn’t have driven him more upset, his fists clenching out of pure anger within the pockets of the suit he wore for work. Minutes passed by, and the older man remained leant against his car whilst growing more and more impatient regarding the sweet words and touches you appeared to offer the black haired boy. These touches he knew so well were meant to be his, and this overall sight easily led the adult to regret ever breaking it off with you.

When your head finally looked up in order to divert through the open doors of the café, your heart tightened upon witnessing the stern silhouette of your stepfather waiting against his car. Embrassement and fear progressively started to fill your organism, face decomposing whilst your friends continued to laugh with one another. Thankfully, it didn’t take long until Trystan noticed the way your mood had unexpectedly yet drastically changed. “Hey, Y/n?? You’re okay?” He asked on a concerned tone, his empathy leading your stomach to grow a couple of more knots at the thought of your stepdad witnessing such a scene. “Yeah..I’m fine. I think I’ll be going home now.” you responded politely, catching all of your mates off guard though none of them did a thing to hold you back. They could tell you appeared sick and pale.

“Take care.” Lizzie purred out as you swung your bag over your shoulder, the group’s curious eyes following your silhouette which exited through the door of the café only to end up joining an older man who stood nowhere far from here. Swallowing your saliva, you attempted your best to keep a rather proud expression on your face in order to push Tom a bit closer to the edge. You were aware that he absolutely despised it whenever you held an attitude. “Hi.” Your briefly said, not fighting the situation as your feet immediately started to lead you towards the other side of the car. “Who’s that guy you were with?” Tom immediately asked as he got into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut behind him. You mimicked his gestures, and the two of you were now sat in the front of his vehicle.

“Just a friend. Why is it important anyway?” You answered harshly, leading your stepdad’s anger to rise above the edge. “Right.” He responded coldly, both of his hands firmly holding onto the steering wheel as he began to drive away from the café. Silently, you watched the way his veins popped out of his skin due to the pressure applied onto his palm- the way his jaw clenched easily matching with his overall tensed and aggressive behavior. Without showing any form of weakness, you simply decided to behave as if you were indifferent face to this situation. You couldn’t exactly tell where Tom was taking the two of you, but even after your breakup you still trusted him well enough not to bring any harm to your fragile mind and body.

You felt surprised and confused to watch him park his car in a nearly empty parking lot, the upset male obviously seeking intimacy for the peculiar lecture he was about to give you. But again, he remained unexpectedly silent, his jaw and chest being the only parts of his body which remained in action. He couldn’t appear to find proper words, though was he truly seeking any? Gathering your courage to take the first step, your lips parted shyly, a single word barely getting enough time to come out of your mouth before you were violently cut off by your stepfather. “Tom-“ you began, body jumping due to the man’s unexpected and quite violent reaction. His palm had collided with the steering wheel, as if the only sound of your voice made him remember about what he had seen back at the café. It was the first time you ever saw him behave in such a way. Usually, he was always calm, friendly. Anger wasn’t an emotion he often felt the need to summon.

“What were you thinking?!” He blamed, the accusations penetrating your ears and leaving your poor mind clueless regarding what he was referring to. All you could tell was that his tone carried hatred, and that therefore his overall body was probably full of this exact same wrath. “Tell me, what were you thinking?” He repeated, this time on a slightly softer tone though this unwelcome touch of dominance remained. Pressing his head back against the seat as air escaped his lips, you finally found the strength to step forward and explain yourself. “He’s just a friend from college. He doesn’t stand up next to you.” You promised, the words escaping your lips as if you two had never put an end to your inappropriate relationship in the first place. “I think about you every day. I think of us.” You added, growing hopeful face to how your words appeared to progressively calm him down.

Tom’s head turned towards yours, ocean blue eyes locking with your unique orbs as the empty parking lot made it feel as if the world around you had stopped. The way his chest moved up and down as he breathed led something to rise within your soul- a sensation you hadn’t felt for over a week... ever since he had decided to put an end to your affair. His veiny hand moved up to your cheek, fingers brushing against your cheekbone before he took the initiative to delicately push a bit of your hair behind your ear. “I don’t want you to see this boy again... ever. You’re mine. My property.” He spoke gently though asserted dominance, allowing you to loose yourself in his soothing tone. However, his head was soon to tilt to the left, his upper body moving closer to yours in order to steal a kiss.

You understood the signals and moved forward as well, his hand still on your cheek as your lips collided against one another’s. His jaw roamed air as Tom took the initiative to intensify the kiss, enjoying this moment after he had been craving the taste of your flesh ever since he took the stupid decision that was ending it all between the two of you. Within a matter of weeks, you had managed to make your own stepfather crazy about you and your aura, your body, flaws and qualities. And whilst Tom continued to enjoy the taste of your lips, your nostrils were filled with bliss as they were finally allowed to breath in his cologne again, a smell you had terribly missed. No scent could’ve potentially replaced the infamous perfume that was your stepfather’s and which you had grown used and attached to through your multiple intercourses.

Growing more and more heated, you took the initiative to slide your hand down until his crotch, fingers tightening against the thick material of his suit which allowed you to feel his prominent bulge through his pants. Tom groaned out of satisfaction as you began to massage his flaccid length which had yet to harden through his trousers, hips buckling upwards just so slightly as if his crotch desired to remain stuck to your palm forever- and that through the help of a denser contact. The warmth which emitted from his groin felt delightful under your bare fingers, a sensation which could only make you crave for more. And so did he. Keeping his lips against yours, your stepfather proceeded to slide both his hands down between his thick thighs, digits unbuttoning and unzipping his pants in a rush which finally allowed you to penetrate within his intimacy.

Sliding past the elastic of his briefs, your hand was soon to come in contact with the slightly hardened member which resided down Tom’s pants. This once he moaned, the vibrations penetrating inside of your moist cavity before his tongue slid inside of your mouth. You were soon to hold up a rather satisfying pace, rubbing up and down his shaft and stopping only when you felt the need to offer him some extra pleasure by giving attention to his testicles. The male broke the buccal contact to collide against his seat, eyelids shutting close as you carried on leading his cock towards orgasm. His member had now hardened properly, revealing his true and generous length which had recently been pulled out of his pants. Just like before, Tom found pleasure in thrusting his hips upwards and participating to the intercourse a bit more than he already was.

“That little boy of yours.. is his cock this big?” Your stepdad asked through seethed teeth, having trouble finding his words due to his clenched abdomen and twitching nutsack. “No...” you responded, being slightly out of breath due to the heated kiss you shared earlier. Hearing these satisfying words coming out of your mouth, the older man couldn’t help but raise his shirt in a hurry before white semen began to sprint out of his overly sensitive urethra, his shaft twitching and contracting in order to propel the sperm out of his crotch. You bit down onto your lower lip face to such a delightful sight, hand moving down to his testicles in order to praise them one last time. This move made your stepfather shiver. You two had finally found yourselves, and it wasn’t any time soon that the older man would ever agree to let go of you again.

“And as you can see... I’m not dead”- all jokes but yes, I am alive and giving the people what it wants😭 I’m sorry if it isn’t very good tho🥺 I hope y’all are taking care!

taglist : @theaudacitytowrite @devilsuga @bucky-soldat @winteralpine @fa-me @ineffablefanic @delightfulheartdream @rosie-posie08 @marygut1407 @wildxwidow @tabea3 @lokistoriesreblog @arzennn

[sundaysundaes]

Thirst

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff | 3.8k | Vampire AU

Summary: You have walked the earth for more than a hundred years but your eternity finally means something the second you meet a human boy with smiles brighter than the sun.

Warnings: Vampire!Reader X Human!Hyuck, unprotected sex, blood sucking

“Wait, ah…” 

You pull back at the sound of his voice, fingers squeezing his upper arm. “Nervous?”

Donghyuck throws his head back and runs a hand over his face. He averts his gaze, slightly hiding behind his lean fingers. “Of course, I’m nervous,” he confesses, the tip of his ears turning scarlet. “I have a cute girl sitting on my lap, about to drink blood from my neck—how could I not be nervous?”

You reach out to him, gently running your fingertips at the side of his throat, and see him swallow hard at your touch. You can hear his heartbeat soaring, which only fuels your thirst for his blood. It has been days since you last drank from him and the flame in your throat is scorching. You know that if you don’t do something about it fast, you’ll lose what’s left of your humanity.

“Hyuck…” You plead, gripping against the collar of his black shirt. “I’m… I really need to drink…”

All the anxiety on his face is replaced instantly with concern. “Shit, you’re right, I’m sorry.” He takes a deep breath, unfastening two of his top buttons to reveal more of his collarbones. The previous bite marks have begun to fade on his skin, appearing almost as faint as the little mole he has on his Adam’s apple. He’s beautiful, so beautiful, that if your mind wasn’t too clouded with the thoughts of consuming human blood, you would praise and cherish every little detail of his features with your lips.

Donghyuck closes his eyes, eyebrows adjoined in the middle in anticipation of your bite. His hand is fisting his collar, slowly tugging it down to reveal more sun-kissed skin to your glowing eyes. “H-have it your way.”

The way he’s reacting like a child curling up in fear of a syringe being plunged into their skin, makes you feel contrite but there’s no other option but to consume what he offers. Otherwise, your thirst for blood will drive you to the brink of your sanity, forcing you to do something even more terrible to him.

You try your best to divert your attention and focus more on trying to comfort him, even when your entire body nearly blazes in flame. Softly, you brush your lips against the column of his throat.

Donghyuck shivers, his breathing tatters. “Don’t—“ He curls his fingers, nails sinking into his palms when he feels your mouth move to lay wet kisses down his chest. “Don’t do that, please.”

“I’m trying to calm you down.”

“Well, you’re doing the opposite 'cause then I’ll be nervous for an entirely different reason.” Donghyuck brings the back of his hand to his mouth, murmuring the words against his skin. But despite the heat that warms his cheeks, he does seem a bit more relaxed, slightly smiling sheepishly at you over his flirtatious words. “I’m fine, just do it.”

You nod, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. Caught off guard, the blush blooms a little wider on his face but he tenderly strokes your cheek. “We’ll do that again after you’re finished,” he promises, “A lot of that.” His hooded eyes are captivated with the way your lips glisten under the slide of his thumb. “Right here.”  

You smile in return. Landing yet another soft kiss to his jaw this time, you extend your fangs and make your mark.

Donghyuck winces away from the pain of your cuspids puncturing the skin under his jaw, right between the earlobe and the collarbone. His hand immediately finds your shoulder, fingers twisting against the fabric of your dress. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes shut close as he endures the pain, but in the next few seconds, his breathing gradually becomes slower.

His head swirls as the rush of endorphin fills his system, elevating him with bliss. He slides his hand down from your shoulder to your arm, resting it on the dip of your waist. You can hear him curse under his breath but he slowly relaxes, his body reclining with you pressed tightly against his chest.

“You’re not so gentle today, are you?” He chuckles softly, slurring a little bit as his thoughts become hazy with ecstasy. “You don’t usually bite me like that.”

You can’t respond, too busy drowning in the pleasantness of his blood.

“So serious.” He quietly laughs. “Well, I guess, it has been a while since we did this so you must be very thirsty.” His free hand slips around your neck, tangling your locks around his fingers. He lets his lips brush against your strands as he murmurs, “I’m sorry… It must have been painful.”

It was painful. So painful that you were about to lose your mind, but with Donghyuck’s arms wrapped around your body protectively, his warm skin under your fingertips, and his sweet, sweet blood on your tongue, every pain, every suffering, every torture you’ve experienced vanishes into a blur.

“Calm down,” he whispers, his honeyed voice soothes you more than anything else in the world. “You don’t have to rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

And as he relishes the feeling of your tongue on his skin, your teeth sinking to draw even more blood, he closes his eyes again, and witnesses a flashback behind his eyelids.

Eight years-old Lee Donghyuck stood on the frozen ground with his tiny gloves covering his trembling fingers. Smokes of warm breaths were clouding over his mouth. His teeth chattered from the cold; a weird, repetitive melody to his ears. And although his tears were no longer falling, his reddened cheeks were still lined with them. 

“Jaeminnie…” He sniffed, one arm hugging himself by the waist while the other one moved to rub his puffy eyes. “Jaeminnie, where are you…?”

His warm chocolate brown beanie was no longer covering his head—a small reminder of how he had previously tripped himself and scraped his knee on the way down. It hurt. His trousers were ripped open from the fall, enough to show the small bleeding wound on his right knee. Kissed by the cold, his ears were red to the tips, freezing. 

He was alone. And lost. And no matter how much he called out for Jaemin’s name over and over again, no one ever came to reply.

Losing strength, Donghyuck fell to his knees. His gloved covered fingers sank into the five centimeters deep white snow and he began to cry, as loudly as he could, just like how he usually did at nights when he was too scared of the monster lurking under his bed.

He cried, and he cried, and he cried, and then he stopped.

He was not alone.

Donghyuck had his gaze on you; his big, watery, round eyes blinking in surprise. Your dress was tainted with splotches of red, fresh liquid that dripped from your chin as you just feasted upon a human. Turning around to look at him, Donghyuck noticed something peculiar.

Your eyes were glowing, strikingly so. Even in the darkness, even when the moon didn’t set afoot to shine that night in the silenced forest, Donghyuck saw them shining like the stars. And they were brighter, much brighter than anything he had ever witnessed.

The little boy stopped crying and gazed back at you. But no matter how cold your eyes were as they raked in his features, Donghyuck was not as much afraid as he was curious of why you could stand in the middle of December, wearing nothing but a sleeveless knee-high summer dress. And he was still starstruck with your glowing topaz eyes.

When he reached out a hand, you took a step back by instinct. Humans made you nervous, especially after your last encounter with the hunters. The memory of one of them nearly driving a stake into your heart made you more cautious than ever, even when your opponent was only a child.

Donghyuck stood up and dared himself to take another step and this time you bared your teeth in response. Your natural human face suddenly dispersed into a form of fear the second Donghyuck saw your teeth.

They were fangs, small but sharp enough to tear skin apart. You snarled, like a beast in a corner, ready to pounce when threatened. 

But Donghyuck’s fear only lasted for a minute, while his curiosity and admiration lasted forever.

“You…” Donghyuck spoke, his voice quivered from the cold and perhaps, excitement. Blood was still dripping from the corner of your mouth and he saw a long cut, spreading from your right palm to her wrist. “Are you hurt? You’re bleeding…”

Your eyes widened in surprise at his words, blinking twice before your shoulders began to loosen.

“If you’re hurt, I have band-aids,” Donghyuck said, immediately shoving his small hand inside his pocket to grab two blue band-aids with soccer balls printed on them. He showed them to you, his teeth still chattering from the cold. “See?”

You examined him more, looking for any kind of sign that he might be a threat to your existence but it was no use. Donghyuck was as harmless as he was adorable. He didn’t even have the strength to keep his little, stubby fingers steady from the cold.

“Why are you crying?” You asked instead, standing a little better in a less offensive stance. 

Donghyuck finally remembered. “Nana… Jaeminnie’s gone… He fought with his brother so we went out here to have some time for ourselves but… But we got separated and now he’s gone...”

“In the woods like this?” You wiped the blood off your mouth with the back of your hand. “What, do you want to die? It’s not safe.”

“N-no—I don’t want to die… I didn’t mean it to be like this.” The little boy shook his head. “I was just trying to help… Jaeminnie looked sad and I wanted to help…”

You fell quiet for a moment, noticing how Donghyuck’s eyes had turned watery once again. You retracted your hands, no longer had your claws out to defend yourself. “Maybe your friend’s already gone home first.” 

“Y-you think?” Donghyuck’s eyes grew hopeful and that was when you realized that the boy was not crying because he was lost in the woods late at night, nor was he crying because he thought his friend abandoned him. Donghyuck was crying because he was worried sick about him. “W-well, if he’s home then that’s great… I really hope he’s with his family again… Fighting is bad…”

So frail, you thought, humans are so frail. Leave them and they cry. Break them and they die.

You sighed. You couldn’t find the heart to leave him alone.“Come with me,” you said, “I’ll help you find your way out of the woods. You can check whether he’s home or not after that.”

And Donghyuck was not one to think twice when people offered him help. With a bright smile, he let his little feet carry him closer to your spot. “I’m Donghyuck,” he said, smiling brightly as he stood beside you. “And you are?”

You glanced at him, noticing how his bangs were fluttering from the winter breeze. His nose was red and his skin, although it was slightly tanned, was thin and easy for you to sink your teeth into if you wanted to. 

You told him your name and you had to repeat it twice until he could pronounce it correctly. He smiled even warmer. “Your name is pretty. Just like you, Noona!”

Noona? You almost snorted. When was the last time someone ever called you that?

But you kept yourself in silence and although you appeared cold, Donghyuck managed to find your charm in his own way. 

“Can I hold your hand on the way out, Noona?”

“Don’t get too full of yourself, brat.”

Twenty years-old Lee Donghyuck smiles at the memory, even when he’s somewhat dazed from the chemical of your saliva. He embraces you tighter, sighing close to your ear, “It took a while before you warmed up to me. I’m just so glad you accept me the way I am.”

That’s my line. You close your eyes, fingers curling against the back of his shirt. You can faintly hear his heartbeat growing slower and during the time you begin to worry, Donghyuck caresses your cheek.  

“Can we…” He breathes heavily. “Stop for a moment?” His head swirls, always an aftereffect from having his blood sucked more than he can contain. But even then, he still smiles like always.

“Oh…” Embarrassed and startled, you pull away, immediately wiping the trace of blood on the corner of your lips with the back of your hand. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… Umm…” Donghyuck witnesses your fangs before they’re fully retracted, as you turn away, shy and ashamed, hiding the only thing that distinguishes you from a normal human. 

Donghyuck smiles wider, and wider, until he produces this little chuckle that always sends a trickle of warmth and desire through your soundless heart. “You’re adorable, come here,” he says, hugging you from behind and tugging you closer to his chest, your intertwined hands lying idly on your lap.

After years have passed by since your first encounter, Donghyuck has become stronger and taller, with broader shoulders and veiny muscles appearing along his wrists. You, in return, stay as young as always, never changing. But like this, sitting above his thighs and curling up to his chest, you look like a normal girl, perhaps even a few months younger than he is.

“Hyuck...” 

“Hmm?”

“Did it... hurt?”

“When I fell from heaven?”

You don’t indulge him with his jokes. “When I bit you, did it hurt?”

“Yeah, but I like it.” He grins, placing his chin on your shoulder. "Seems like I’ve developed a kink for it.” When you don’t mirror his laugh, he embraces you tighter. “I’m fine,” he whispers to your ear, tickling you with his warm breath. “Just a little low on blood, but come on, it’s nothing new.”

You don’t say anything but Donghyuck understands how guilt is gnawing at you from the inside. “Hey,” he gently turns your body around until he has his eyes peering into yours. You’re reluctant, not sure how to face him with the look of guilt on your face. “I said I’m fine. Can’t you see?” he coos, smiling with his chocolate brown eyes turning crescents. “Don’t look like that. You know I don’t like it when you’re blaming yourself for drinking my blood.”

“But it’s…” You nibble on your lower lip. “It’s not right.”

“You’re just filling your needs,” Donghyuck corrects you. “What’s wrong with it? I do it all the time. Think about this as your late-night snack.”

“Hyuck, I’m snacking on your blood.”

“And yet you’re the one who complains about it. You see how weird that is?” You shoot him a glare but Donghyuck counters back with a pout—a habit from his childhood days that somehow only occurs more often now that he’s an adult. “Look, I volunteered to do this. I want you to drink my blood.” He swats the bangs out of your eyes, leaning close. “I’ll be pissed-off if you drink from someone else, actually. You’re supposed to be mine, just as much as I am yours.”

It’s funny how you’re superior than him in terms of experience, strength, and possibly anything else, but he shamelessly talks like he owns you. And you don’t mind, not at all, because after living behind the shadows for so long, it’s nice to have someone as bright as the sun holding you captive under his light.

You trail your fingers through the blood on his neck, painting his skin with crimson. “I’ve made a mess,” you mumble to yourself and Donghyuck stiffens, even stops breathing for a second. You dip your head into the crook of his neck, darting out your tongue to wipe the rest of his blood away, slowly and gently so you won’t scrape his skin with your fangs.

“Don’t hold back.” He holds you closer until your teeth are grazing against the supple skin. “It’s okay if you want to do it again.”

The temptation is too much, too strong, and you can’t find the will or strength to decline. “T-then... Just a little more.”

Donghyuck’s ragged breathing devolves into soft moans that ring in your ears, and you want him so desperately in every sense of the word. “Fuck, it’s so weird that it feels this good,” he sighs, the back of his head pressed against the wall behind him. “Do I taste this good to you too?”

You hum, squeezing his shoulder.

He smiles between deep sighs. “Then, I guess, we’re both each other’s drugs.”

You only take a sip of his blood and lick the rest until nothing seeps out from his wound. Donghyuck is in a haze, eyes nearly closed when he smiles softly. “Are you done?”

You nod, wiping your mouth clean. “Thank you.”

“You’re being too formal.” He titters. “But you’re welcome. Anytime you want.”

You don’t really blush, not when you’ve lived for more than a century, but Donghyuck has his way to break into your facade and knows when he’s succeeding. He says there’s just something in the way you avert your gaze, the way you lick your lips nervously, or the way you put a hand on his chest as if you were about to push him away, but at the same time, making sure that he stayed near.

Donghyuck understands all that. He knows you like the back of his hand. 

“Listen to me,” Donghyuck says, cupping your face with both hands so he can stare directly into your glowing eyes. “If you ever crave for blood, you come to me, okay? I won’t let you starve. I won’t let you die. You can drink from me, as much as you want. I want you to.”

You’re surprised at the sudden pressure on his words and Donghyuck’s hands are hot, nearly scorching compared to your icy cold skin but they’re comfortable. He reminds you of the sun, of its heat on your skin during the day, reminding you how good your life was as a human.

“But I’m not even alive, Hyuck,” you say, smiling weakly as you lean more into his touch.

“Scientifically, no.” He shifts closer to press his forehead against yours, his heat seeping through your skin. “But to me, you’re much more alive—and you make me feel more alive than anyone I’ve ever known.”

You want to meet his eyes, but his stare is directed to your lips. “Is that a compliment or a white lie?” You whisper, and his eyes grow half-lidded when he sees you moving your lips to form a sentence.

“It’s the truth.” Donghyuck swallows the soft noise you make directly with his mouth, lips slanting against yours perfectly like pieces of a puzzle. He groans from the back of his throat when he tastes a hint of his blood on your tongue, kissing you deeper with more passion.

Being with Donghyuck is suffocating and it’s funny because you don’t even need to breathe to live. It’s suffocating in the sense of how desperate his kisses are, how there is only one innocent kiss at the beginning that only lasts for a few seconds and then vanishes entirely, changing into hard, bruising, deep ones that feel possessive and dominating.

But being with him is also comforting. He gives you solace you don’t know you need. His touch, a stark contrast to his kisses, is gentle, almost silky smooth whenever his hands glide on your skin. He’s the only one who knows how to make you laugh, even when you can hardly remember how or the sound that you make when you do. His laughter is contagious, his protested whines are both annoying and endearing. He’s the fire that keeps you alive.

“Hyuck—” You circle your fingers around his wrist, feeling the heartbeat that faintly beats under the skin. “Wait, you’re losing a lot of blood—”

“I don’t care,” he gasps against your mouth, yanking his hand from your hold so he can cup your cheek. “I’m fine, so let’s just—“ You let him overpower you for once to do as he pleases and he pushes you down to the carpeted floor, crawling on top of your body. “I want you—for two weeks, I’ve been—I’ve missed you—”

Donghyuck is adorable when he wants something so desperately, like the way he furrows his eyebrows as he runs his fingers on his keyboards. The way he’s shouting a train of expletives at his computer screen before he leaps out of his chair, punching the air when he finally completes the mission. 

Donghyuck is captivating when he desires to achieve something in his life, like the way he practices dancing over and over again to earn a scholarship to college. Or the way he told you he loved you a few months ago, and no matter how many times you said no, telling how ridiculous of him to even think about being with a vampire, he never relented. 

And Donghyuck is beautiful—so out worldly beautiful—when he wants you.

It’s beautiful, the little moan that escapes his lips when you touch him back. Even the slightest touch at the right spot can make him shiver and he blushes when you notice him react that way, immediately saying, “It’s just cold here, okay? And your ice-cold skin isn’t helping.” 

It’s beautiful, the way a bead of sweat rolls down his temple as he’s sheathed deep inside you, not quite moving yet as he tries to catch his breath, his cheeks flushed. “You’re driving me insane,” he confesses, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, grazing his lips against your skin as he sighs. “Can we stay like this forever?”

It’s beautiful, the way he laughs when you answer him with, “Actually yes, we can, if you’re willing to be turned into a vampire.” The appalled look on his face only stays for a split second before he beams at you, his smile bright enough to replace the sun. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” he giggles, taking your earlobe between his teeth as he whispers, “Any man would be happy to sacrifice their souls to be able to make love to you for eternity. Including me.” And as he moves back to your lips, he adds, “Especially me.”

It’s beautiful, the way he throws his head back in pleasure at the feeling of you clenching around him. The way he murmurs expletives while biting his lip as he brings his eyes down to you. His expression is erotic, his voice obscene, his lips are parted and bruised. His hands are on your knees as he spreads your legs apart, pushing himself deeper inside. “I can never get enough of you. I—“ He flinches when his thrust hits your sweet spot and you squeeze harder around him in response.

It’s beautiful, the way he rambles when the sensation becomes too much. “The way you feel around me—” He places open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his hips moving frantically at a faster pace. “Y-your entire existence—” His hand heads over to your breast, his thumb sliding over your nub. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

And it’s fucking beautiful, the way he says your name in a soft gasp as he comes inside you, his arms trembling when he places them on the floor on each side of your head to keep him from collapsing on top of you. His temple is pressed against your collarbone and he quivers when you kiss his hair. His lips immediately chase after yours when his name escapes your mouth, and he kisses you again, and again, as if he hasn’t been kissing you a thousand times already.

“Stay with me,” he begs, his hooded eyes nearly hidden behind the bangs that are damp from his sweat. “I’ll keep you alive—as alive as you make me feel so please just…”

Don’t leave me.

***

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

"I'm truly sorry, but I don't think we've ever met." memory loss angst? 👉👈🥺

anon... fam, this turned into an emotional rollercoaster and totally stole my braincell.

3.8k words. angst with a happy ending. 

tw: memory loss, minor anxiety, repressed memories, idiots to lovers, whump, angst with a happy ending, angst with a fluffy ending

---

It’s been three hours, five minutes, and forty-two seconds since the frigid breeze whipped Geralt’s angry words at him, shattering his fragile, stupid heart to pieces. Every syllable rings through Jaskier’s head over and over, slamming into him from all directions and crippling him with a bone-deep pain far worse than anything he’s ever felt before. The ache ebbs and flows, lancing through him with every step. Not even Geralt’s first frustrated blow to his abdomen had been this terrible.

Geralt… That’s the problem, isn’t it? He hadn’t been smart enough to get out of the gorgeous Witcher’s long, silvery hair soon enough. He’d overstayed his welcome, fallen in love in the meantime, and is now very out of sorts (and also alone in unfamiliar territory). The bard laughs but it’s a hollow sound. Jaskier has reached the edge of hysteria, his intelligent blue eyes now vacant and unseeing. Even as he stumbles through the underbrush, all he can picture is the snarl on Geralt’s face as the Witcher yells at Destiny to take Jaskier off his hands. 

Jaskier’s own hands are covered in sap and splinters from pushing tree branches away from his face as he traverses the darkening forest. His hair is full of debris and his clothes are torn and dirty; Geralt has all of his emergency supplies, still. Jaskier is pretty sure that his lute is still strapped over his shoulder but he realizes, with no small amount of surprise, that he doesn’t actually care.

He doesn’t have the capacity anymore. 

He can’t care… caring hurts too much.

If only Destiny had taken him off Geralt’s hands. Maybe then it would be okay. Maybe then, if Geralt was well and truly free of him and his irritating presence, the Witcher could be happy. He and Yennefer will surely come back around, they always seem to, and Ciri will be joining them soon enough it seems. 

There’s no need - no room - for a humble bard anymore.

Only five hours, thirty minutes, and twelve seconds after Geralt’s outburst at the top of the mountain, Jaskier’s delicate human body succumbs to the stress of the day.

He drops to the forest floor without a sound, grateful for the darkness.

---

Yennefer finds the bard in a heap a few miles away from the previous night’s elevated campsite. When she presses the back of her hand to his forehead she yanks it away almost immediately; he’s burning up, and his skin is clammy and sticky with sweat. The feathery bangs he flicks about and preens so much are stuck to his forehead and temples. He’s on the verge of shaking apart and Yennefer tosses her head imperiously, swearing.

“Damnit, Geralt. You and your incredibly foolish need to be alone all the time so you can brood and self-flagellate. Me, an ageless sorceress from one of the greatest magic schools on the Continent? I can handle a thorough tongue lashing. Fuck, I’m older than you and I’ve seen far worse but this… oh, you great lummox. You absolute bastard…” Yennefer mutters to herself as she assesses the bard’s deteriorating state of health, ranting to an invisible Geralt all the while. “You’re absolutely going to be hearing from me about this, Wolf.”

--- Three days, one hour, and fifteen minutes after Geralt dismissed him forever, Jaskier wakes up with a loud gasp and a violent shudder. He blinks slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the bright light streaming in through a window. Whatever he’s lying on is comfortable and the sheets smell fresh and bright, like lilac and freesia. A hint of gooseberry lies beneath it all, delicate and sweet. He glances around the space and finds it to be relatively bare; a guest room, perhaps. Maybe he’s a servant at some noble house? 

Jaskier only really knows that his name is Jaskier and that he plays music. He’s also rather talented with floral arrangements. 

Shortly after he’s finished purveying his (borrowed?) chamber, the very image of grace, beauty, and terror enters the room. The woman, whose coppery skin and enchanting violet eyes practically glow in the midafternoon sun, smiles down at him in a way that toes the line between Motherly and Shark-like. 

“How are you feeling, Jaskier?”

“I’m alright. And you?”

“Just fine. Geralt really did a number on us, huh?” she asks, a playful grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. He has the feeling that something isn’t right; she shouldn’t be looking at him so kindly. 

Her expression changes from friendly to horrified to confused in an instant, as soon as Jaskier manages to ask: “Who’s Geralt? And, pardon me, but I feel as if something is rather amiss. Who are you, my Lady?”

Whoever the gorgeous and terrifying woman is, she grimaces briefly. Then, as if by magic, the comforting smile returns. “I’m Yennefer, of course. I saved your life a few years ago, remember?”

Jaskier wracks his brain but cannot call the occasion to mind. “Unfortunately no, I don’t remember your no doubt heroic deed. Although I suppose that means I’m in your debt, doesn’t it? Do I work for you? Is that why I’m here?”

The woman blinks a few times, slowly, and then nods. “You’re my gardener and personal musician.”

Jaskier brightens, happy to have found himself in a safe environment. 

“But you’ve had a nasty illness and your mind is clearly fatigued. Rest another day or two and then we can see about getting you back into the fresh air.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Jaskier nods.

“Yen is fine.”

“Thank you, Yen. I don’t know where I’d be without you,” he grins. 

---

Yennefer turns away to hide her pained expression. You’d probably still be with your beloved Witcher. 

She makes her way to the kitchen to fix Jaskier something to eat. He must be hungry after spending three days in a deep, healing sleep. She hadn’t been expecting the amnesia, though; it was an unexpected but not unsurprising turn of events. Heartbreak had done stranger things than a little bit of fever-induced memory loss. When she’d delved briefly into his mind she hadn’t seen any sign of Geralt. His face was absent from the bard��s consciousness; she would have needed to dig to unearth those memories. Whatever the Witcher had done was grievous, especially if Jaskier’s mind compensated with something as dramatic as burying Geralt completely to save itself from further harm.

No matter, she decides, the bard can stay here as long as he likes. It’s the least I can do for all the upset Geralt and I have caused him. Where is that idiot Witcher, anyway?

The sorceress quickly clears her agenda and her mind before returning to her guest room with a large tray of food, a bottle of Toussainti red under her arm. “Jaskier, darling, let’s get your convalescence started in style!”

---

2 months later

---

Jaskier watches a strange man ride up the long path to Yennefer’s manor, the hilts of his twin swords glinting in the sun where they’re slung over his shoulder. He has long white hair and the most devastating jawline the bard/gardener (or ‘bardener’ as he says to irritate his darling employer) has ever laid eyes on. He’s clad all in black, from his plain linen shirt to his tight leather trousers; Jaskier thinks he’d also look rather lovely in dark blue or perhaps forest green.

In front of him, wrapped securely against his chest by one strong arm, sits a little girl with ashen hair and frightened eyes. Haunted eyes. Jaskier’s mind fills with ballads, some familiar and some oddly dreamlike, their lyrics half-obscured and hazy. Ciri, he thinks for no reason. Her name is Ciri. And she is a Princess.

The brunette scurries from the garden alongside the house to the kitchen, searching for the familiar cloud of Yennefer’s strong perfume. “My Lady?” 

“Darling?” the sorceress replies, coming around the corner. She raises her perfectly maintained eyebrows and her lips quirk up into a smirk. “Did you sprint all the way from the west lawn?”

“There’s a- strange man- on the- drive!” he huffs. “White hair- horse!”

“Oh,” her eyes go wide with surprise. Then, in a split second, they narrow to slits. “Oh.”

“Do you, uhm, know him?” Jaskier asks, twiddling his fingers. “He’s rather handsome, Yen. Is he a former lover?”

“Unfortunately,” she growls. “I can’t believe it’s taken him two fucking months to get here. He’d better have a damned good excuse.”

By now Jaskier can breathe normally again and he straightens up, shaking his long, shaggy hair from his eyes. “He had a child with him. She looked scared, Yen.”

“Cirilla!”

Yennefer dashes for the front door and Jaskier follows instinctually. They’re always together and he can’t bear to let her confront this man alone. He’s spent every waking moment with Yen since he awoke that first day and she has grown to be his dearest friend; he’ll protect her even unto death. “Yenna, what’s wrong? Who is he!?”

“Geralt of Rivia,” she snarls. The name seems familiar; maybe from a ballad or story? Perhaps Yen has mentioned him before? 

“What about Geralt of Rivia?” a low, rumbling bass asks from the front hallway. Jaskier and Yennefer arrive in the doorway together and the man, Geralt apparently, takes a shaky step back. He recoils a bit, as if he’s been slapped, and Yennefer’s smile grows cruel. His voice, still incredibly low but now with a slight tremor to it, stutters out; “Wha- Yen, what is he- Jaskier? I only came to ask for help with Ciri, I didn’t know- I didn’t-”

Geralt’s stammered speech tapers off into silence and Yennefer’s brow furrows a second time. When the sorceress sets eyes on the child, who cannot be more than twelve years old, her expression softens again. Jaskier watches the most imposing woman in the world kneel, taking one small, pale hand in both of her own. “My name is Yennever of Vengerberg, former Sorceress of Aretuza. I am honored to meet you, Princess Cirilla. Geralt has come seeking protection, no doubt, and it is easily granted. I will do everything I can to help you.”

“Thank you, Lady Yennefer. And, uhm… Ciri’s fine,” the girl replies. Her voice is high and reedy, shot through with anxiety. She’s so young, Jaskier frowns. And yet she seems to have weathered an incredible storm.

“Ciri,” the bard bows from the doorway, low and dramatic. He sweeps his arm out to the side and bends his knees as awkwardly as possible, “I am Jaskier, private troubadour and gardener extraordinaire, under the employ of the magnanimous and dangerous Lady Yennefer, here. It is my greatest honor to make your very mighty and very royal acquaintance.”

“You’re silly, Master Jaskier,” the child giggles, hiding her mouth behind her hands. Geralt’s eyes grow wide and dart between Jaskier and the girl. Yennefer makes meaningful eye contact before nodding toward the door. Jaskier looks down at Ciri again when she asks: “Do you grow lots of flowers in Lady Yennefer’s garden, or just herbs and things for magic?” 

“I grow lots of things all over the property,” the brunette man steps forward and offers Ciri his hand, gesturing towards the front door with the other. “Would you like to come and take a look? I know all the scientific names, you can even quiz me if you like.”

“I know some,” she smiles shyly, accepting the offered hand. “May I go take a look at the gardens, Geralt?”

“Go ahead,” the Witcher nods dumbly. “Jaskier will take good care of you.”

“That I will. Now, let’s take a look at the flowers and let these silly adults have a chat,” Jaskier grins. He winks at Yennefer and disappears out the door, exiled Princess in tow. 

The two lively companions have toured through all the medicinal herbs and are halfway through Yennefer’s large collection of rose variations when the two other members of the party approach. Geralt looks sheepish, his eyes downcast. Yennefer looks triumphant; she is radiant in her victory as always. 

Geralt steps forward, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Jaskier, I’ve come to apologize for what happened when we parted.”

“Excuse me?” the bard chuckles, raising an eyebrow.  "I don’t know what you’re apologizing for, exactly.”

“When I yelled at you after the dragon hunt. It was only two months ago, Jaskier, surely you remember?”

Jaskier blushes, glancing anxiously between Geralt and his friend, whose violet eyes are stormy with emotion, “I'm truly sorry, but I don't think we've ever met."

Geralt gasps sharply and takes a step back, as he did in the entryway. Jaskier winces, seemingly on instinct, and shies away from the larger man. “You don’t remember me?”

“No…” Jaskier sighs. “I really don't. Should I?”

“You don’t… You don’t even remember Toss a Coin?”

“Oh, that ditty from town?” Jaskier perks up. “I know that song! It always gets stuck in my head.”

“You… You wrote that song,” Geralt’s face crumples. “About our first adventure together outside of Posada. With the elves and the sylvan...”

“I’ve never been to Posada,” Jaskier laughs, waving his hand dismissively. “They hate bards. They prefer troupes of traveling play-actors. Posada is far too serious for my tastes.”

Geralt seems to be in agony. His chest rises and falls unevenly, as if he’s on the verge of tears but unable to shed them. Can Witchers cry? 

How does he know that Geralt is a Witcher? Is it the two swords, the scars, or the strange eyes? How does he know that those are common Witcher traits?

His stomach lurches and he turns away from the group in case he needs to be sick. The ground spins and shivers in little ripples around him, unstable and impermanent beneath his feet. Yennefer is calling his name from somewhere far away and a pair of warm, strong arms are looped around his waist. Still, he can’t seem to breathe. Or focus.

There’s something missing. 

He starts to hum, trying to remember the words of that damned song.

The rest of the world fades in and out around him, finally disappearing altogether.

---

He’s gorgeous. 

Jaskier shoves another roll into his pocket. His eyes are focused on the man in the corner. He has long, snow-white hair and his shoulders are hunched forward protectively, as if he can hold the world out by sitting by himself. He’s glaring the table into submission, one fist clenched around his tankard. 

I want to write him a thousand ballads. I want to know what his hair looks like when he wakes up in the morning, before he brushes it out again. I want to know if he snores. I want… he stops himself. 

He makes his way across the room with eyes only for the stranger. “I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.”

The man looks away and Jaskier notices that his irises are gold. “I’m here to drink alone.”

Gods, his fucking voice… Velvet and gravel all at once. Melitele, does Jaskier want. “Good, yeah. Good. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance… except for you.”

The man, the Witcher, Jaskier realizes, rolls his eyes.

“Come on,” he wheedles, sitting down across from the gorgeous stranger. “You don’t want to keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me, three words or less.”

The man’s face stays stoic, expressionless. “They don’t exist.”

He realizes shortly thereafter that this man is not just any Witcher but the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia. He could try to disengage himself from such a daunting character; he could easily make some kind of excuse and disappear back to the troubadour’s path, heading towards civilization, but it’s already too late. He doesn’t want to leave Geralt’s side ever again; he wants to write all those ballads he was thinking about earlier, when he glanced across the room. 

Jaskier has fallen head over heels in love. ---

Geralt cradles Jaskier against his chest and presses his nose deep into those chestnut brown waves. “Wake up, Jaskier. Come back to me, bard, it’s been too long.”

“Don’t you usually go all winter without seeing him?” Yennefer asks from the doorway. 

“It’s hell,” he replies easily. There’s no point in hiding his feelings from her. “I miss him every minute of every day.”

“Verbose this evening,” she remarks, taking a seat by the fire. “He’s dreaming, you know. He’s remembering you.”

“He’d forgotten?”

“He’d repressed it all,” she shrugs. “When I found him that day, feverish and nearly dead on the side of that godsforsaken mountain, he was barely coherent enough to open his eyes. He just kept asking for you, Geralt. Over and over he called for you, reaching his arms up, weak as they were. Gods, it was pitiful to watch.”

Geralt swallows. 

“I thought you were going to come back sooner. I was surprised when his memories didn’t resurface after two or three weeks. Short-term memory loss after a fever isn’t uncommon but repressing twenty years worth of feelings and experiences-” she whistles lowly “-it was impressive and tragic, all at once.”

“He forgot me?”

“Entirely.”

Geralt glances down, shame-faced. He adjusts Jaskier in his arms, holding him close and pillowing the bard’s head against his shoulder. “I deserve it, Yen.”

“He’s remembering now, though. He’ll probably be a little less than pleased to see you when he wakes up, but he knows who you are.”

“When will he wake?”

“Can’t say,” she shrugs again. “After I brought him back from the mountain it took three days for him to wake up. The first day was magically induced but after that it was just him… exhausted and heartbroken to the point of self-induced amnesia.”

“Fuck, Yen,” Geralt groaned, pressing his forehead into the soft warmth of Jaskier’s cheek. “How can I make it up to him?”

“Stay.”

“Hmm?”

“When he wakes up and he’s angry and upset, stay. Don’t stomp off or blow up or freak out,” she instructs. “If he asks you to leave, go, but otherwise… prove yourself, Geralt of Rivia. You wanted to be a knight once, didn’t you? Now’s your chance to play Prince Charming. Get down on your lovely knees and beg and apologize.”

“Hmm. How’s Ciri?”

“Fed, bathed, and put to bed. I’ll take care of her for as long as it takes you two morons to make nice again. Good luck, Geralt, I’m sure he’ll forgive you too easily for my tastes.”

She stands from her seat and leaves just as efficiently as she entered, carefully closing the door behind her. Geralt lays Jaskier back on the bed and takes a seat beside him on the mattress, kneeling just within touching distance, should Jaskier reach out for reassurance in his sleep. Geralt closes his eyes and slips easily into meditation. 

The Witcher is pulled from his trance a few hours later when Jaskier makes a startled sound and tries to sit up. Geralt opens his eyes and splays one warm, broad hand against Jaskier’s chest, forcing him back against the goose down pillows. “Stay still, Jaskier. You’re feverish and weak.”

“I’m still dreaming,” the bard grumbles, reaching to rub at his eyes with the heels of his hands. It’s adorable and Geralt grins widely, warmth spilling into his chest from some newly discovered fount of happiness. “You’re being too nice to me, Witcher.”

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier, for everything.”

“What’s everything, Geralt?”

“I’m sorry for pushing you away when I was angry and confused instead of communicating with you. I’m sorry for hurting you with my brash words and foolish actions; you have always deserved so much better and I’m so afraid that I can never give that to you. I take the wrong step at every turn, it seems, and yet you stay by my side. I didn’t want to risk hurting you the way I’ve already hurt Yen and Ciri, by tying us together against your will.”

“Darling Geralt,” the bard sighs. The Witcher scoots slightly closer and Jaskier lays a gentle hand atop his thigh. “It has always been my greatest pleasure to travel the Path with you and write of our adventures. I appreciate your concern for my agency and wellbeing, dear heart, but I am quite happy spending my entire human life in your presence.”

“Hmm,” the Witcher frowns. “You’re going to die someday.”

“And? So are you. So shall Yennefer, maybe.”

“Not likely,” Geralt jokes. Jaskier grins and the sight of it is so heartwarming that the Witcher wishes he could break down into tears. At least then Jaskier could see just how deeply his feelings ran. “I’m sorry, Jaskier, for blaming you for things that I brought upon myself. I love you dearly, and I hope that someday you can choose to travel with me again.”

“Excuse me?”

“I hope that you’ll-”

“No, the other bit.”

“I love you?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Oh. Yes, I-” Geralt clears his throat and looks Jaskier in the eyes, gold and blue locked together, “I love you very much, Jaskier.”

“Fuck.”

“May I kiss you, Jaskier?”

“Yes,” the bard breathes.

And then Geralt is lifting him up into his lap, one hand cradling Jaskier’s skull so so fucking carefully. Geralt’s other arm supports his waist, holding him steady. Their lips come together softly, carefully, and Jaskier’s soul spirals up to the ceiling with joy, his body abandoned. He is merely a vessel for the happiness that comes with kissing his Witcher. When they pull apart, both men are grinning like fools. “Oh, dear heart.”

“Yes, my love?”

“Never stop calling me that.”

“I swear I won’t, my love.”

From downstairs, Geralt hears Yennefer mutter, “Fucking finally.”

It takes twenty-two years, seven months, and one day, but Geralt and Jaskier manage to figure things out.

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Ruki [MANSERVANT ENDING]

ー The scene starts in the bedroom at the orphanage

Ruki: ...I’m sorry, Yui.

I will...accept my fate.

Yui: ...!

Karlheinz: So you have chosen death? 

Ruki: ...Yes. 

Kou: ...Wait, Ruki-kun! Are you sure that’s what you want!? 

Ruki: I committed a sin. So now, I must atone for it.

Even if I run away now, I will surely have to accept the consequences one day.

If my only other option is having to live in constant fear, wondering when and how I will be punished for my sins...Then I would rather just accept it right here, right now.

Yuma: Ya don’t know if that day will come for sure, so who gives a fuck!? 

If there’s still even the slightest bit of hope left, I don’t see why you’d hasten yer own death...!

Yui: You’re wrong, Yuma-kun. 

Ruki-kun isn’t scared of the day he will have to face his sins.

...You’re afraid of which other people will be affected when that time arrives, aren’t you...? 

Ruki: ...As to be expected, you know me well.

Yui’s exactly right. While it may sound pathetic, I’m terribly afraid of someone else being hurt because of me.

Say I were to continue with no luck left inside of me, and said fateful day arrives...Someone will surely get wrapped up in my mess. 

And it is highly likely it would be the person closest to me...Yui, that would be you.

...I can’t bear the thought of that. Even if you were to accept it yourself, it’s the one thing I want to avoid.

Yui: ...Don’t worry, I understand.

I wouldn’t want you to suffer...because of me either.

So it’s fine. ...Go and leave me behind. 

Azusa: Eve...

Ruki: ...I just can’t apologize to you enough for this. 

Yui: Don’t say sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong.

( ...Exactly, he holds no blame. )

( We just made minor mistakes here and there along the way. )

( Mistakes are incorrect. However, they are not necessarily ‘wrong’. )

( After all, it was one of those ‘mistakes’ which brought us together. ...Isn’t that right, Ruki-kun? )

Karlheinz: ...Ruki, are you ready?

Ruki: Yes.

Karlheinz: Then, in place of your luck...I shall take away your future. 

*WOOSH*

On certain CGs, little black roses will appear on the screen. If you click on them, you get an extra line of dialogue.

“You’re a little too sympathetic. ...When I know that I have to leave you behind by yourself, the anxiety drives me crazy.”

“I do think I am horrible for doing this to you. ...Especially since I told myself I wanted to protect you forever.”

Kou: Ruki-kun...!

Yuma: ...Ruki...!

Azusa: ...Uu...

Yui: Ruki-kun...

Ruki: ...You didn’t cry this time. I’m relieved. 

Because no matter how much you cry, I can no longer be there to wipe those tears for you.

Yui: ...You’re being so unfair...

When you say that, I can’t cry no matter how hard I want to...

Ruki: That’s why I said that. I don’t want you to cry for me. 

Don’t you remember what I said? I’m a heartless man.

There are many things I want to say, but I will leave those unspoken. 

If I say them...It will only increase the burden on your shoulders, while lightening my own. 

Yui: ...Look at you trying to burden everything yourself again. 

If you insist that you’re so ‘heartless’...Then at least live up to it in your final moments. To the point where I’ll wish to forget all about you. 

Ruki: ...I’m just no match for you.

There’s one request I’d like to make. It’s something only you can do. Will you hear me out? 

Yui: Of course...You can ask anything.

Ruki: ...Please take care of Kou and the others. They’re all a bunch of incompetent fools when there’s nobody to keep them in check.

If you stay with them, I’m sure they’ll continue to protect you.

They’re the people I can trust the most. ...I can leave you in their care as well. 

Yui: ...Okay. I’ll stay with everyone. Forever. 

Ruki: Please. In that case...I feel at ease tooーー

*WOOSH*

Yui: ...Ah...

Azusa: Ruki...

Yui: ...Until the bitter end, he only ever thought of others.

( However...He is no longer in pain now, is he? He no longer has to suffer by himself...right? )

( If Ruki-kun can find peace, then isn’t painful for me either. )

( Albeit extremely sad, lonely...and heart-breaking. )

ー The scene shifts to the blue sky

Yui: ( It’ll be okay... )

May you rest in peaceーー

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the living room at the Mukami manor

Kou: ーー Aah!

Oh come on, Yuma-kun! You’re getting mud all over the place again!!

Yuma: Aah? Ahー My bad. Guess there was still some stuck to my clothes.

Kou: Gosh~ I keep on telling you to wipe it off when you enter the house! You better clean this up yourself, understood? 

Yuma: Yeah, yeah.

Azusa: Yuma...What is today’s haul? 

Yuma: Nice question! Today I’ve got these juicy kiwis for ya guys! They’re delicious! Want one?

Kou: You’re really thinking out of the box...I wouldn’t be surprised if you start growing watermelons next. 

Yuma: Yeah! That’s already on the agenda!

Azusa: Waah...I can’t wait. Don’t you agree, Yui-san...?

Yui: Yeah, for sure. We can play suika-wari (1) once they’ve been harvested. 

Kou: Suika-wari! Nice! I’ve never done that before!

Yuma: Wait, wait! They’ll splatter into a million pieces if ya split them in half! 

These are my precious watermelons you’re talkin’ ‘bout! Ya better treat them with care!

Kou: Eeh~? We can just enjoy the taste afterwards, no? 

Yuma: Then ya better promise you’ll lick every single drop of juice from the damn floor as well!

Kou: You’re going to make me go that far!? 

Yui: E-Either way, I’m looking forward to when they are ready. 

More importantly, it’s almost dinner time. Yuma-kun, go wash your hands. 

Yuma: Yes ma’am. Aah, ya can take these kiwis with ya. Just serve them as dessert. 

Yui: Okay, got it. Thank you. 

ー Yui walks away

Azusa: ...Yui-san. I wonder if she’s starting to move on...

Kou: ...No way. It’s so obvious she’s just acting strong in front of us.

I thought she’d be able to smile again one day but...Maybe it really is impossible. 

Yuma: ...We can’t blame her tho. No matter how long she waits...She’ll never see Ruki again.

All we can do is watch over her. ...Until the day she passes away, and can rest in peace without havin’ to worry ‘bout everything...

ー The scene shifts to Ruki’s room

Yui: ( ...I came back to this room again. )

( Quite some time...has passed since. I know that I should move back into my own room soon. )

( However...I still can’t let it go. I can’t move on from this place. )

( Because when I’m here, I get the feeling that I can be with Ruki-kun... )

...Ruki-kun. 

...Ruki-kun...

...I miss you...

Monologue

ーー I miss you. 

Those feelings I wrote down on paper back then,

eat away at my heart right now. 

I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.

That one phrase simply repeats itself, 

as the feeling grows stronger with each passing day. 

Yet the only thing I have left in the end,

are an increasing amount of letters, 

which will never reach anyone. 

ー The scene shifts to the night sky

Yui: Ruki-kun...Please, just one more time...

Come back for me, just like you did that day...

...I’m dying to meet you...

ーー THE END ーー

[motherjoel]

in case (spencer reid x reader)

summary: you and spencer are each others forever, and spencer vowed to make this christmas your best yet.

a/n: the yard sale scene is based off of that moment in the office between michael and holly lol, i just thought it was so cute. also i am just so excited for christmas even though its months away so im sorry in advance. let me know what yall think!

wc: 3.1k

-

The LaMontagne-Jareau household was having their annual yard sale and as they do every year, they invited the team to sell anything they didn’t want anymore. You and Spencer had just moved in together a few weeks ago after dating for a year and you definitely had some things that you could get rid of, so you jumped at the opportunity to clean house. As you were packing some of your knick knacks into boxes, you noticed your boyfriend sitting in front of your shared bookshelf, closely examining its contents and placing the books into two piles. His brow furrowed when he placed another book into the smaller of the two stacks. You set down the lamp you were holding and walked over to a frustrated Spencer.

“You know Spence, you really don’t have to get rid of any of your books. I promise, I don’t need the shelf space,” you chuckled before examining the piles.

“I know, I just feel bad that you can't put any of your books up there. Besides, I’ve read everything anyway,” he said with a frustrated sigh. You patted him on the back before sorting through his “sell” pile. Picking up one of the hardcover books, you noticed it was one of your favorites. 

“‘The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allen Poe’? You were getting rid of this?” you asked in slight shock.

“Oops, wrong pile,” he remarked, softly taking the book from your hands. “You remember the first time we read this together?” he asked, flipping his fingers through the pages. 

“Um, of course. Last year, before we were an item,” you recalled. “I was at your apartment and we ordered a pizza and opened a bottle of wine, which you proceeded to spill all over me,” you laughed, Spencer blushing profusely at the memory.

“And you were wearing white…” he trailed off.

“And I was wearing white. I know you have an eidetic memory but this must be the dirty side of it because I know full well you saw my bra through that shirt,” you nudged him teasingly.

“Hey, why do you think I asked you out in the first place?” he jokingly asked. You nudged him again and laughed. 

“So I changed into your ‘I Heart Vegas’ t-shirt and your FBI sweats and made you read to me as an apology,” you smiled, recalling the memory that you held near and dear. 

“And you’ve never looked better,” he laughed, pecking your lips. 

You set the books down and left him to his sorting, returning to your own work. Once the two of you were ready to go, you hauled the few boxes into your car and made the drive to JJ’s.

-

“My favorite lovebirds are here!” Penelope shouted, standing up from her seat on the lawn next to Morgan and making her way over to you and Spence. You gave her a quick hug.

“Hey Pen! I’m surprised to see you here, I know you’re pretty sentimental when it comes to your things,” you asked as she began to help you carry your things onto the lawn.

“Yeah, I’ve had firsthand experience with that when I accidentally knocked over her llama mug. The thing shattered and she refused to call me ‘chocolate thunder’ for days” Derek chimed in, standing to help you with the boxes.

“Okay, in my defense, I like to keep my sacred things sacred. I didn’t want my poor llama to face such violence!” she yelled, and you all laughed. “But you’re right, I’m just here to count the money,” she confessed, and you nodded. 

You all chatted about your days as you unpacked your boxes, the rest of the team showing up in the meantime. As you unpacked, you came across your old neon sign that said “boss bitch,” and you couldn’t help but laugh, drawing the attention of your friends. 

“Damn Y/N, I never pegged you as someone who’d have a sign like that,” Emily said, walking over to get a closer look.

“How come I’ve never seen that?” Spencer asked, observing the cheesy light.

“Gosh, i’ve had that since college. I found it in the back of my closet today and I don’t really have much of a use for it. I do love it though,” you remarked. Emily left you and Spencer alone after being distracted by Henry.

“You know, if you really like it, you can keep it. If there's a problem with the neon, I can take a look at it,” Spencer said, taking the sign from you.

“Oh no, it's not that. I guess it's just more meant for a ‘bachelorette’ pad,” you said.

“Oh okay. You can save it if you want, just in case,” he said softly. This got your attention as you looked up to him.

“In case? I don’t have an ‘in case’. Do you have an in case?” you asked, wondering if your boyfriend had any doubts about your move in.

“No, I don’t,” he said, as if he was just realizing how real the two of you were. He leaned down and your lips met his. You pulled away from him and continued setting up your table, a smile on your face the entire time.

-

A couple months had passed since the yard sale and you were absolutely loving the little life you had with Spencer. And as the weather got colder, it was nice to have someone to snuggle next to during the winter. Christmas was coming up and you couldn’t wait for Christmas Eve at the Rossi household. Dave had decided that this year, he would start a tradition for the team, a “night of the seven fishes,” and of course his famous Rossi pasta. Everyone was able to go- this was why you loved this team. You were all “misfits,” especially with your home life- these people had become your family and you theirs, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You went Christmas shopping every day leading up to the fateful Rossi dinner. One of those days, Spencer came with you and the two of you had finished up pretty late- it was already dark out. Spencer offered to drive home, which was a little out of character, but you were too tired from your day that you didn’t question it. You noticed he was taking a different route then normal, however, so you decided to interject.

“My love, you’re going like the complete opposite direction of home,” you giggled.

“I know, I just thought we’d take a detour to look at the lights,” he said nervously. You just shrugged and went with it.

 You turned up the radio when you heard your favorite Christmas song start to play. Spencer began to sing along quietly, and you looked at him surprised- he never sang in front of you. He glanced at you and laughed, before continuing his serenade. You decided to join in, belting out the lyrics to Maria Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas is You,” turning to Spencer and singing to him on the “you” parts, earning a chuckle. 

After you had been driving for a bit, he stopped the car and stepped out. You didn’t recognize your surroundings, but it looked like you were in a park. It was decorated beautifully with countless Christmas lights and ornaments hanging from trees. It truly took your breath away. Before you knew it, Spencer was opening your door and offering his hand. You took it and stepped out, still in awe of your surroundings. While you were looking around, Spencer reached inside the car and cranked the radio up, just as Frank Sinatra’s “White Christmas” began to play. He walked in front of you and bowed his head, extending his hand. 

“May I have this dance?” he asked, feigning chivalry. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of the man in front of you, bundled in a jacket and a scarf, nose slightly red from the cold air.

“Of course, good sir,” you said with a terrible curtsy. Taking his hand, the two of you began to slow dance in the middle of the empty parking lot, snowflakes slowly falling down. 

“You’re amazing,” you told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“You missed,” he said, before leaning back down and giving you a firm kiss on the lips. You laughed into the kiss, wondering how you scored such an incredible boyfriend. You switched positions to get closer to him, your arms wrapped around his neck and his arms around your waist. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The two of you continued to sway as the song changed to “Last Christmas” by Wham! You looked up at him again, missing his face. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love this and I love you for this, but why are we doing this?” you asked, not wanting to ruin the moment. 

“I don’t know, actually. I had the thought when we were at the mall, that I just wanted to make this your best Christmas yet. And I know you love those cheesy Hallmark movies, so I figured this was the closest way to bring one of them to life for you,” he laughed and your heart melted. 

“Well, my previous statement still stands. You are amazing, Spencer Reid,” you told him, leaning in for another kiss. The two of you swayed for a few songs longer until you both decided that not even you could keep each other warm. The drive back to your shared apartment was pleasant as you closed your eyes, letting the Christmas music and the warm feeling of Spencer's hand on your thigh lull you to sleep.

-

“Babe can you zip me up?” you asked, putting in your earrings. Spencer adjusted his tie to his satisfaction and made his way over to you in front of the full body mirror to help you with your dress.

It was Christmas Eve and the two of you were getting dressed for the big night at the Rossi house. Spencer seemed a bit more nervous than usual, but you just chalked it up to his occasional social anxiety. Once he finished zipping you up he wrapped his arms around your midsection, kissing you on the cheek. The two of you stood, looking at your reflections, for a few moments. Spencer looked as handsome as ever in his nice sweater, and you were a show stopper in your dark red velvet mini dress. It was moments like these when you stopped to think about how lucky you are to have met him- he was your future and you were his. If only he would put a ring on it.

You pulled yourself from your loving daze and finished getting ready- Spencer was already finished so he was attached at your hip as you pulled on your heels and made some finishing touches to your makeup. 

“Ready to go?” he asked, seemingly antsy to get on the road. You giggled at his eagerness and nodded, grabbing your purse and heading out to the car.

On the drive there, you once again cranked up the Christmas music and serenaded him to All I Want For Christmas is You, which was quite a frequent play on the radio. You didn’t mind, however, because it was always a way to get him to blush. Mariah Carey had that effect on people. Before you knew it, you pulled up to the Rossi mansion. Most of the team must have been there already, as it was bustling with life and Christmas joy. The front of the house was completely decked out with lights and decorations- Dave spared no expense when it came to holiday decorating. The two of you made your way up to the door, presents in hand. Garcia was on the other end of the door, apparently a few eggnogs in.

“Oh my gosh, you guys are adorable!” she shouted. You and Spencer shared a knowing look. “Everyone, the lovebirds are here! And looking like the hottest couple since Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively,” she gasped, taking in your dress and feeling the velvet. The confused look on Spencer’s face told you all you needed to know about his knowledge of pop culture, which was none. 

Garcia ushered the two of you inside to the living room area, where the rest of the team was settled. Everyone stood up for hugs and assisted you with carrying all of your presents to the tree, which was one of the biggest Christmas trees you had ever seen. You greeted Jack and Henry, who were playing with some toy cars under the tree. You made you way back to the team, and you noticed Spencer talking quietly to Derek and JJ- you decided to let them be and you made your way to the kitchen island to talk to Rossi as he cooked.

“Wow, everything looks so great!” you commented, observing the wide array of food along the table. 

“It better, I’ve been busting my ass for hours just so you kids could have a nice meal,” Rossi said, stirring one of the pots on the stove. You laughed at his fatherly comments as Emiy took the seat next to you.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just worried he might be on the naughty list,” Prentiss joked, finishing off her glass of wine and grabbing another bottle. 

“Hey, just because I’ve gotten a few divorces doesn’t mean i'm not a good man,” he said, pointing a jokingly accusatory finger towards Prentiss. She lifted her hands in defense and laughed. 

“I hear that,” said Derek, who had suddenly appeared in the kitchen. Spencer made his way to the chair on your other side, taking a seat. He nervously fidgeted for a bit, but when you rested a comforting hand on his thigh, his nerves seemed to calm. Soon after you poured yourself a glass of wine, Rossi announced that dinner was served. With a cheer, everyone made their way to the long table, Rossi and Hotch on both ends. You sat between Spencer and Emily, waiting to serve yourself. Once everyone was settled, Rossi stood holding his glass of wine.

“I would like to take a moment to thank you all for coming tonight. There are friends, and there is family. And, there are friends that become family. You are all my family, and I wouldn't want to spend my night of the seven fishes with anyone else. Dig in,” he toasted, and was greeted with a few “salut’s” and pats on the back. With that, you all began to serve yourselves and fill your plates and wine glasses. 

-

Once everyone was full from the delicious dinner spread, you all retired to the living room. Christmas music was playing through Rossi’s amazing sound system, and you were resting your sleepy head on Spencer's shoulder, his arm around you. It had been a perfect night, and you didn’t want it to end. As you were listening to JJ tell a story about Henry’s first Christmas, the song changed to “White Christmas” by Frank Sinatra, and you were flooded with the memory of you and Spencer dancing in the parking lot. You lifted your head from his chest and looked to see he was thinking the same thing.

“It’s our song,” you whispered with a sleepy smile. Spencer nodded and gave you a quick kiss before looking at Derek, who was mouthing “do it now!” As if it were perfect timing, JJ just finished her story and Spencer stood up, gathering the attention from the room. 

“Uh, if I could have everyone's attention, please,” he started, nervously clearing his throat. You looked up at him with stars in your eyes, and he returned it. “As many of you know, Y/N and I have been dating for awhile now, and we’ve been living together for a few months,” he began. You looked around the room and made eye contact with Derek, who shot you a wink. You returned focus to your nervous boyfriend, encouraging him with your eyes. 

“Living with her has made me realize that I don’t need an ‘in case.’ I normally always have a backup plan for when things go wrong, well, as an FBI agent that comes in handy,” he chuckled nervously. “But with Y/N, I never thought to make a backup plan. I’ve just known that she is my forever,” he turned to you. “Y/N, you are my forever, and I want to make it official- I want the world to know that you mean everything to me,” he shakily got onto one knee, earning a gasp from Garcia and a few tears from JJ. From his sweater pocket, he pulled out a tiny velvet box and opened it. You stood up, hands covering your mouth and tears welling in your eyes.

“Y/N, will you marry me?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes. You were in shock. You almost forgot to answer until you heard a cough from Prentiss. 

“Yes, Spence! Yes yes of course!” you shouted, putting the ring on and he stood up as you jumped into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. You barely registered, the whooping cheers from the rest of the team, as everyone embraced each other. Tears were shed by most of them (Hotch tried his best to hold back). 

After a minute of spinning, Spencer let you down and you observed the ring. It was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen. 

“I helped pick it out,” JJ told you and you pulled her into a hug and thanked her before embracing Spencer once again, a happy blush across his cheeks.

“Hey, look!” Garcia said, pointing above you and Spencer's heads. Looking up, you saw the mistletoe she was pointing at. 

“Did you know that the white berries on mistletoe are actually toxic to humans?” Spencer asked, receiving a few head shakes. You looked up at him in awe, always adoring his facts.

“Come here,” you said, pulling him down by his tie and giving him a passionate (but tasteful) kiss that was greeted with a chorus of “aww’s” and a few “ewwww’s” from Jack and Henry. You both laughed and continued to mingle with the team, showing off your rock. Spencer had made it a Christmas to remember, and you were so eternally grateful to have someone who loved you as much as you loved him.

[spencers-renaissance]

💫Moreid Masterlist

GIF by @criminalmindsvibez​

Hurt/Comfort or Angst with a Happy Ending

🌊Still Left With the River

Derek wakes up to find his boyfriend crying on the sofa. Cue the hurt, the comfort, and the fluff.

1.6k, hurt/comfort, fluff, caretaker!derek, autistic spencer, crying, sad spencer

🌳Trees and Seas Have Flown Away, I Call it Loving You

Derek says something hurtful, but it happens to lead to just about the best thing that’s ever happened to Spencer.

3.2k, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, fighting/making up, angst with a happy ending, autistic spencer, coming out, getting together

🍓A Chronicle of Loss

5 people Spencer Reid lost and 1 person he gained. A look at the traumas Spencer faces over the series, and giving him the happy ending he deserves.

3.6k, grief, loss, abandonment issues, insecurity, depression, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, getting together, ‘didn’t know they were dating’, protective derek, autistic spencer

🍯Honeysuckle

The BAU decide to head out for a picnic one summer afternoon, but they’re soon rudely interrupted by a bee sting and anaphylactic shock. Seeing Spencer carted off in an ambulance is not exactly how they expected the day to go.

2.3k, whump, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, hurt spencer, friendship, medical conditions, severe allergic reactions

🌙The Noiseless Crash of Crumbling Walls

After Derek and Spencer are paired up on a science project in their senior year of high school, they become the closest, most unlikely friends possible. But what happens when Derek finally finds out what Spencer's dealing with at home? Inspired by the prompt “where did you get those bruises?”

4.5k, high school au, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, hurt spencer, protective derek, abuse, friendship, pre-slash, spencer just turned 16, derek is almost 18

🔥The Insistent Burn of a Falling Heart  - part two

Derek is hopelessly in love with his childhood best friend, and he can't even escape him at home, since they're living together while they study at Cal Tech. He's resigned himself to a miserable, Spencer-less fate until lasagne, bad memories, and a whole lot of crying bring the real truth out into the open.

4.2k, hurt!spencer, fluff, angst with a happy ending, mutual pining, getting together, college au, first kiss, misunderstandings 

💔let him be soft (and let him be mine) part one // part two

After Derek pulls another self-sacrificing stunt at the culmination of their most recent case, Spencer runs out of their apartment as he desperately grapples with how it makes him feel. (Collab with @criminalmindsvibez​! You can find her complimentary edit here.)

2.4k, hurt/comfort, crying, abandonment issues, injured!derek, hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst with a happy ending, fluff, protective!derek

🪦how the cold numbs everything but grief

Six days after Emily dies, Spencer finds himself soaked in freezing water, catatonic on the bathroom floor. Only Derek can ease the roaring, burning, demanding agony of this grief.

1.2k, grief/mourning, emily’s ‘death’ in season six, hurt!spencer, hurt!derek, hurt/comfort, angst with a hopeful ending (serious tw for grief here)

✨storm-darkened or starry bright 

Spencer contracts HIV. It all falls apart after that.

6.5k, angst, illness, hurt!spencer, hurt/comfort, worried derek, depression, mutual pining, getting together, angst w a happy ending

⛈this heavy humanness

Spencer leaves the oven on overnight, and Derek - whose pent-up emotions get the best of him - loses it, exposing secrets neither of them expected to be spilled, for two very different reasons. They get there in the end.

3.9k, est. rel., past abuse, arguing & making up, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, miscommunication hurt spencer

💤I turn and reach for you

Three months after Hankel, Spencer starts getting terrible nightmares that keep him up at night. He tries desperately to keep his secret until one day when it's all too much to bear anymore. Luckily, Derek Morgan is there to hold him together as he falls apart.

2.1k, nightmares, hurt/comfort, ptsd, angst with a happy ending, fluff, literal sleeping together, getting together, post-revelations

Pure Fluff

🌒when I fall asleep (it is your eyes that I close)

Spencer’s not been sleeping, and as much as Derek adores his sleepy clinginess and physical affection, as soon as they get home he’s determined to get to the bottom of it.

1.9k, fluff, hurt/comfort, sleep-deprivation, clingy!spencer, physical affection, anxiety, cuddling

🎄A Christmas Like This

Spencer has a very specific plan for their first Christmas in their new house, and it has to be absolutely perfect. Derek’s going to do everything in his power to make his boyfriend as happy as possible, even if that means a house covered in garlands and a tree covered in animal skeletons…

2.9k, fluff, christmas fic, est relationship, neurodivergence, romance, domesticity, day in the life

💍my heart talks about nothing but you

Derek finds Spencer staring longingly at dancing newlyweds while on a case and once he gets to the bottom of why he’s tasked with making a proposal to a man who knows it’s coming special somehow. (He pulls it off.)

2.5k, established relationship, hurt/comfort, minor angst, fluff, relationship discussions, proposal, protective derek

✨I told the stars about you - part two

Derek and Spencer have their first date. They dance to Frank Sinatra and cuddle in an ice cream parlour, before kissing the hell out of each other at Spencer's front door. That's pretty much it. (Prequel to above fic.)

2.1k, first date, first kiss, pure tooth-rotting fluff, dancing, flirting, protective derek

🎂I can’t hold enough of you in my hands - part three

Derek and Spencer are finally getting married and the rest of the BAU are there to help them through every step of the day. Including a little surprise that Derek has up his sleeve for their first dance. (Third part to the above two fics.)

3.1k, tooth-rotting fluff, marriage/wedding day, team as family, team dynamics, domesticity, paternal hotch, maternal alex, just a whole lotta love man

🔪Shovel Talk

Hotch and Emily find out about Derek's relationship with Spencer and decide it's time for a chat.

1.5k, fluff, humour, est. rel., protective!derek, emily, and hotch, relationship reveal, mentions of past hurt spencer

📚I’ll (Never) Know What It’s Like Not to Love You

Spencer finds his old journals in the attic, and he and Derek reminisce on the days they used to pine for one another. Luckily, those days are over, and they have forever ahead of them.

1.3k, tooth-rotting domestic fluff, past mutual pining, past hurt!spencer, cuddling & snuggling, late canon

Getting Together

🌨Even More Beautiful

The BAU is stuck in Michigan with no case and no way home, so naturally, Spencer and Derek confess their love for one another. (Based on the prompt ‘You look even more beautiful covered in snow.’)

3.5k, fluff, love confessions, shy spencer, insecurity, hurt/comfort

🎧Hear it in the Silence

A short, fluffy chronicle of Spencer realising in increments how in love with Derek he is, and navigating a real, beautifully sweet relationship that's not always smooth sailing, especially since he's been hurt before. (Based on Taylor Swift’s You are in Love.)

3.7k, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, dev relationship, tw past abuse, domesticity

🎅🏼Secret Santa

Penelope rigs the BAU’s Secret Santa game to finally get Derek and Spencer together with extraordinary success, and they have her to thank for their future first date. Oh, and a sprig of mistletoe nearly throws the whole thing out the window.

2.8k, fluff, getting together, insecurity/anxiety, christmas fic, first kiss, misunderstandings, friendship

🌳The One Constant

Derek wakes up after having his appendix removed with temporary amnesia from the anesthesia, and Spencer certainly isn't prepared for the man he's pined after for four years to a) not recognise him, and b) start flirting with him. It all works out in the end, with a little help from Hotch.

4k, hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, insecure spencer, flirting, getting together, misunderstandings, first kiss

☕️i’ll retire my bones to make you tea and read you poetry

Derek doesn't exactly expect to invite a sleepy Spencer over for a movie night after a case, but his blinding smile in response makes him happy he did. The kiss they share the next morning makes him even happier.

3.6k, fluff, getting together, cuddling, insecure!spencer, pet names, mutual pining, light hurt/comfort, first kiss, love confessions

Embarrassed!Spencer Drabble

A misunderstanding at a BAU get together has Spencer embarrassed and a long-awaited kiss finally happening.

1.2k, fluff, angst, getting together, first kiss

AU

📚100

Spencer's an academic researcher who spends every morning at his local library. Derek just happens to drop by one Tuesday and ask the pretty boy in the classics section if he can help him find a book. Sparks fly.

2.1k, library au, fluff, meet-cute, pining, shy spencer, coming out

💣Mayhem

Imagine that scene in S4E1 when Derek is driving the ambulance loaded with a bomb about to explode, except it’s Spencer on the other end of the phone and they finally get their shit together.

4.2k, canon divergence, spencer is the tech analyst, getting together, mutual pining, insecure spencer, angst with a happy ending, fluff, declarations of love

🧑🏻‍🦽 dry me off and hold me close

Derek has finally relented and is bringing his boyfriend Spencer to meet the rest of the team. That means, though, he has to finally tell them about his boyfriend's disability. Terrified that they'll react badly, he puts it off until he can't anymore. Turns out he was worried for nothing

5.7k, so much fluff, protective derek, disabled spencer, caretaker derek, spencer is not in the bau, team as family, hurt/comfort, light angst, est. rel, chronic illness, slice of life: disabled edition

💐I’ll bloom for you (while my heart still cries)

(Based on the age-old tumblr prompt) "Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery and today you've caught me and insisted on coming with me to make sure the 'girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft' and I'm trying to figure out how to break it to you that we're on our way to a graveyard."

3.7k, fluff, meet-cute, au: student spencer, fbi agent derek, hacker penelope, grief & mourning, shy spencer, getting together, mutual pining

🌖This Gravitational Pull

Penelope Garcia sets her two best friends Derek & Spencer up on a blind first date. Even with the best intentions and highest expectations, no-one could've predicted it would go quite this well.

2.9k, fluff, first date, au: diff first meeting, shy spencer, insecurity, anxiety, flirting, cuddling, protective derek, silly amounts of affection

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

a flower for a flower

pairing: harry styles x reader

warnings: smut (i want to say pure smut, but i also ramble a lot, so it’s not just smut—close to it though), food innuendos and other cheesy things, fluff, harry in his pimp daddy outfit, oral (f & m receiving), exhibitionism (mentions of voyeurism), teasing, soft!dom feels, praising kink, a couple of good girls thrown in there

word count: 3.8k

synopsis: a walk on the beach leads to more 

author’s note: hi, i hope you're doing well :) sorry the synopsis sucks, but you know what i mean! xx hope you enjoy

masterlist

—

She’d never been the type to like the beach.

Granted, she had never been to an actual beach, like the ocean kind of beach, until she was well into her twenties, but that’s beside the point.

Then, she met Harry.

Harry, someone who has nothing but kindness and love in his soul, open for anyone who’s willing to take him, scared her when they first met. She has always been anxious, riddled with insecurities and tension, and to meet someone who breathed and exuded nothing but unadulterated confidence was absolutely terrifying. At that moment in time, she thought she could never be with someone who was like that, thinking that it would be difficult to keep up with someone like him.

And she was never one to take risks.

She will be forever grateful for finding someone who is able to open her eyes and give her the opportunity to see and do things that she never even dreamed about. It definitely helps that he is the way he is. She doesn’t think she would have ever found the courage to be the woman she is today without him being just him, kind and patient.

Now, the beach is their safe place. The ocean is their escape from the world around them, a peaceful place for them to simply be with each other.

It’s a little past noon, the sun high in the clear sky, with only a couple of clouds shrouding the beautiful day. She’s been sitting on the sidelines underneath a fluttering umbrella, working on some unfinished assignments she has for her classes. She hasn’t gotten much work done, however, not only because she gets easily distracted in general but also because of the teasing looks Harry shoots her.

She watches him through large sunglasses, a chipping gold coloured wire surrounding fading pink lenses, as he sits at the table once again, setting down a plate of watermelon atop the terribly ugly tablecloth. He told her how important this shot was before when they were driving to the beach location. With jittery hands and giddy eyes, he told her about how it was going to be the teaser that would be posted a couple days before the big release. Getting the “perfect” shot hasn’t been going too well, especially since Harry knocked over the glass of orange juice in the very first take.

Despite his pleas and the biggest pair of puppy dog eyes, she declined his offer to be a part of the video, opting to sit and watch from afar. She has never been one to put herself into any situation that forced the attention more on herself than necessary. Besides, when their relationship is in the public eye (it’s, sadly, an inevitable part of their journey), she doesn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about their relationship, that she’s simply using him to better herself.

The director calls for a quick lunch break before the next couple of scenes, and Harry took it as an opportunity to spend some time with her, having been distracted and busy for the better part of the day. He tugs her up from the worn chair, a brittle little thing that had been sitting in the patio of her rental house for what looks like centuries (she was honestly surprised when it didn’t crumble beneath her). Watching their footprints spread and sink and die beneath merciless waves as the tide rolls further and further in, they walk to a more isolated part of the beach.

A pair of green sunglasses, large and shaped like hearts, are perched on his head, pulling back the stray curls that always seem to fall onto his forehead, and the necklace she gave him for their anniversary sticks to the skin of his chest, just barely tucked beneath low swooping neck of a dark orange tank amongst an array of dozens of dangling charms and shells.

His eyes are crinkled form the blaring sun, but he still doesn’t move the glasses from his hairline; they don’t cover much of anything anyhow. His feet are still bare as he kicks through the sand, swinging their connected hands between them. The sun beats down on his freckled shoulders, and he savors the warmth. She stops suddenly and turns to face him, a faint smile creeping over her features as her nails tease across the green stitching of the tank.

“Ya know,” she begins, making him turn to face her. He has such a sweet little grin on his face, and she can’t help but melt at the sight. It never gets tiring being able to see Harry in his element.

He’s been beaming since they woke up this morning, especially since she told him she would be joining him at today’s shoot. While his other songs are very dear to him, they don’t hold a candle to Watermelon Sugar because it was made because of her; it was a culmination of everything he’s been through in the past two years, the highs and the lows.

It signifies his new beginnings with her.

When he met her, on that dry summer night, she made everything seemingly fall into place. And later that night, after a couple bottles of wine and a riveting game of twenty questions, he kissed her, her lips, soft and supple, tasting like cheap moscato and strawberries, and he felt like he was breathing for the first time; it was all very new and exciting and dangerous. He knew, after having just gotten out of a relationship, he shouldn’t put his heart so entirely on his sleeve, for fear of having it absolutely shattered. He fell for her hard and fast, despite his reservations and fears and common sense.

Looking back on it now, he’s glad he didn’t listen to his common sense. Then, he wouldn’t be walking with his soulmate on a beach now.

“You look really hot in this,” she says, her hands smoothing along his hips before connecting right above the curve of his bum. He cups her cheek, thumb tracing along the heated skin.

“Yeah?” His lips curl into a teasing smirk.

“Oh, yeah,” she returns the light tone, her nose just barely grazing against his. When she catches his lips, they’re sweet and sticky. She holds him steady by the cheeks, feeling the slight stubble. Hands grasped tightly to her bunched dress, he backs her up against a rock as her hands travel toward any piece of open skin she can feel, from his biceps to the tips of his fingers digging into her waist. She feels a rush of anxiety settles in her stomach as he hikes up her dress around her waist, his crotch grinding into hers.

While they used to fill her with dread, these nerves leave her eager and wanton, and she wants so badly to melt into him and have him take her however he wants, but that little voice, the one that always reminded her of every little thing that could possibly go wrong, is screaming at her to stop him. Harry, ever the pusher, who holds her hand and guides her through the things that she never thought she would before, would tell her to shove those fears back, that this is their moment to just be and live, just him and her, together.

Through her inner turmoil, she still focuses on her sensible side, and she hesitates.

“H,” she moans, tugging on his hair. He presses his lips to her neck, tongue dipping out to wet her skin, tasting, savoring her.

“Not that I’m not… loving what you’re doing, but—” Her voice breaks a little as he nibbles and sucks just below her jaw. “We could get caught,” she says breathily, and he pulls back, his hands still tucked in the hollow of her neck and her waist.

Despite the beach being very private, she can’t help but be worried that someone would catch them in such an intimate way, but he just gives her a comforting smile, their fingers interlacing at her hip, and she can feel her worries melt away. She still can barely believe that he can make nearly all of her nerves dissipate with just a simple look or touch.

“Isn’t that a part of the fun?”

Her heart jumps into her throat. Now, all she can think about how someone could catch them at any moment; all she can think about is how stupid and reckless it is for them, especially for him. It’s risky and nerve wracking, but her pussy still throbs in her underwear, wetness seeping into the already stained fabric. She could only imagine the person’s surprise if they rounded the corner to see him on his knees before her, her fingers tracing through his still wet hair as he works his mouth on her.

They’re hidden behind a set of pale rocks, plentifully dotted with dark moss. He nearly covers her, his thick arms resting on the rocks behind her, blanketing her in his shadow. He grinds his hips into her. She tucks a hand beneath the dark orange top, her thumb running along the fleshy meat of his hips, his sun kissed skin smooth beneath her touch. He spreads kisses down to that same weak spot beneath her jaw, still tender from his earlier ministrations.

“Okay,” she hums, finally sinking into him. Despite the heat from the burning sun, she embraces him, tugging and pulling him closer until they’re nestled close, chest to chest, his knee settled between her spread thighs, against the rock behind her.

“You jus’ gotta be quiet,” he mumbles.

That makes her chuckle.

“Me? I’m the loud one?”

Compared ot beginning of their relationship, she has learned how to be more expressive and emotive and assertive when it comes to sex, often telling him exactly what she needs, how she needs it, and when, but she still isn’t near as loud or talkative as he is. He could chatter her ear off about any just anything while he’s fucking her. Initially, it was odd; sex was never an experience she considered to be something that was really open or comfortable, if that makes sense. She always saw it as something that was supposed to be taken very seriously, and it was somewhat of a personal experience, despite it being between two people.

But, perhaps, that was just her anxiety telling her that it’s not a good idea, or it was because of her innermost fear of embarrassing herself.

However, it’s moments like these, where she can barely comprehend the world around her, only being able to move her head slightly, the words completely caught in her throat, that she’s glad that he talks her through everything; she’s glad that she can bear witness to the filthy words that leave his lips, words that make her tremble and quake with anticipation.

He cups her through thin panties, his nails tracing her swollen lips. His rings offer a different kind of friction, one she yearns for, rigid and relentless. She hooks a knee around his waist, and he cups the back of her thigh, the cotton of her dress pooling around his elbow. He pushes the panties to the side with his free hand.

“Your poor little peach,” he pouts teasingly, voice soft. He pinches her puffy clit, and her hips buck against the sudden, harsh touch. “So wet and swollen. ‘M sorry, babylove. If I knew you were feelin’ tingly, would’ve taken this walk earlier.”

He kisses behind her ear, fingers spreading her wetness over her folds, paying special attention to her painfully hard button, throbbing and aching from his faint brushes across her sensitive skin. She whines, head sinking against the rocks, eyes fluttering closed. He pulls her lips apart, until she’s full open to him, her tight, clenching hole seeping with arousal.

“What got you this worked up, lovie?”

Her thighs tremble and shake, her knees threatening to give at any moment.

“Was thinking about… you,” she admits softly, sweetly, and she can feel his bulge thicken just a little more against her.

“Me?” He has an incredulous tone, but the darkening edge to the laughter that punctuates it makes her thighs close around his hand. “Little ol’ me?” A flare of pink has started to form on the rounds of his cheeks, probably from the sun, but it looks cute on him.

“What were you thinkin’ ‘bout?”

“This,” she chokes out. That’s all she can really say at this point. With the pressured circles he’s kneading into her poor, swollen clit, she can’t think coherently. It’s not enough to make her come yet, but it’s enough to keep her satiated, just enough for her to teeter on the brink of insanity.

“Dirty girl,” he says, “thinking ‘bout me eating your pretty little peach out here, where anyone could see, your honey drippin’ down your thighs.” She clenches, aching and throbbing at his words. She can feel her arousal slip down her thighs. “Anyone could see us out here, sweetness.” He tuts, tapping the tips of his fingers against her poor bud, her hips buck at the slight friction, and she whines pitifully.

“Or is that what you wanted?”

He cocks his brow. He strokes his fingers along her swollen lips, nails slightly grazing the tender, pink inside, which makes her hips jolt into his touch. Breathing ragged, the meat of her thighs tense from his gentle touches, teasing and fleeting.

“Maybe you wanted someone to see us. You wanted them to watch me make you come with my mouth. Maybe they’ll think about those pretty noises you make while they come. Is that what you wanted?”

He sinks two fingers into her sopping pussy, stretching and filling her, and she cries out at the sudden relief. The burning ache inside her is quelled just a little bit more as he curls his fingers into her little spot. She slips, the rough rocks grating against the skin of her bare back; the pain lingers and heightens her senses, the throbbing pleasure from his movements sinking deep into her bones. He catches her before she can fall, knee still holding her up.

“Yes,” she whines, grinding into him. He sinks to his knees.

“So pretty, babylove,” he praises as he pulls back the hood of her clit. “Such a perfect little peach.” Suckling and nibbling at her swollen bud, her hips buck in time with his lips. He runs the flat of his tongue along the underside of her clit, her taste making his cock stir in his pants. Her walls clench around his fingers, sucking and pulling him deeper inside her. He pulls his lips back, his thumb pressing harshly into her bud, a stark contrast to the warmth from his mouth. He kisses the inside of her trembling thigh.

“Can you take another?”

She nods desperately, her hips grinding against him. He easily slips another finger, and he smiles as more arousal seeps down to his wrist.

“Never taken three, have ya? My good girl, so fuckin’ wet f’me,” he says, pulling at her swollen button with his free hand.

“What else were you thinkin’ ‘bout?”

She struggles to speak, her world still spinning and blurred from her impending orgasm. Her pussy tightens near painfully around his ring-clad fingers.

“Tell me,” he coaxes her, fingers fucking into her at a brutal pace, leaving her breathless and incoherent. She mumbles something through broken whines, her heaving chest stuttering. She can’t even keep her eyes open as she chases her coming high, her wetness squelching between his fingers.

“What was that?”

“Wanna choke on your cock,” she says through ragged moans. He smirks against her thigh.

“You want me to pull your hair back and tell you how much of a good girl you are while you take my cock in your pretty little mouth?”

“Yes, please,” she whines. She can actually feel her mouth water at the thought of shoving his cock deep in her throat with him moaning and claiming her and taking what he wants.

“Come for me, babylove, and then, you can have my cock,” he coos.

Her high takes over her with a burning fire, igniting every vessel in her body with ecstasy, sending waves of tremors and chills through her muscles, until it settles to smoldering embers, leaving her hungry and eager for him. She tugs him into a biting kiss, teeth tugging at his teasing lips. She wants to rip that orange top from him to feel his glistening skin against her, from the hardness of his chest to the soft little pooch that settles around his hips and stomach. She can’t now, but she’ll definitely have to play out that fantasy some other time.

He sits on his bum, the burning sand shifting and settling up around his thick thighs, but he doesn’t take much notice in that as she pushes his thighs apart, eagerly tugging his pants down. There’s a pretty red, nearly purple, hue to the head of his cock, precum slipping from the slit.

The fabric of his pants bunch up tightly underneath his balls, but it offers the perfect amount of pressure whenever his hips buck up. Her tongue traces along her lips, bitten and puffy, her eager eyes taking in everything he has to offer. His cock jumps a little under her gaze.

“Take it, lovie,” he moans.

And take it she does.

She licks the little divot of his balls, wetting the pliable skin before massaging her thumb into him, the way she knows he likes it. His eyes roll back. She presses the head into the soft skin of her cheek, making them puffed and protrude. She sinks further and further down, her wet lips tight and absolutely perfect against him.

“So pretty, baby,” he sighs, eyes fluttering closed as her throat tightens around him. Her teeth just slightly graze the throbbing vein on the bottom part of his shaft, making him twitch.

She grips tightly onto his pleated pants, twisting the thin fabric in little fists as she takes him entirely this time, choking her. Saliva dribbles from her lips to the swell of his balls, and he cups them, spreading the wetness over his sensitive skin. When she lets up, a string trails from her lips to the throbbing head.

“Such a good girl f’me,” he moans, brushing some wetness from her chin. He can feel himself twitch again at the sight of her, lashes clinging together with unshed tears, lips soft and plump and wet—she looks ethereal, absolutely divine. Her breasts are pressed tightly together, shifting slightly with every move of her wrist.

“My best girl.”

She jerks him in quick, wet strokes, the obscene sounds nearly muffled by the crashing waves nearby. A swell of wind brushes through, rustling his hair, and it sends chills down his spine, leaving his thighs quivering.

“Gonna come?” His sweet’s voice is raw and wrecked, and it makes him throb. She breathes sharply through her teeth, wiping her lips crudely with the back of her hand. She lets a thick drop of saliva slip past puckered lips and onto his swollen cock, and his hips jolt up as it trails teasingly down the ridges until it stops in her hand at the base of his cock, nestled tightly against the fine curls. Her other hand teases along the tip, just barely slipping it through her loose fist.

“Please, wanna taste it,” she whimpers, and he swears he could black out. His body is overwhelmed by his racing heart; he can feel it everywhere, from his ears to the tips of his toes, blood rushes through him, heating his skin. She wraps her lips tightly around the head, her cheeks hollowed, and she looks at him with hooded eyes, begging, pleading with him.

Her tongue suckles at that special spot on the underside of the tip that makes him see stars. With trembling hands brushing back the flyaways from her forehead and his face scrunching up, eyes closed, a toe-curling, all-consuming orgasm rushes through him and leaves his hips bucking and skin sticky. She laps at his cum, her pretty, puffy lips still wrapped around him to coax him through his high.

He pulls her up, his hands cupping the back of her neck, and she straddles him, his softening prick lying between them, still twitching slightly. He tugs her lips onto his, molding them together with swollen lips, saliva, and sweetness, twinged with salt and sex. He pulls their lips apart to finally catch his breath, but she continues to press her lips to his tender skin, her comforting kisses bringing him out of his euphoria induced lull.

A cute little purple flower catches the corner of his eye. It’s the only one sprouting beneath a heavy layer of sand, just barely peeking beyond the surface. He picks it.

“A flower for my flower,” he says sweetly, and she takes it, her eyes soft. She looks it over.

“I’m pretty sure this is a weed,” she laughs, rolling the stem between her fingers, and his eyes widen in offence.

“No, it’s a native wildflower.” He tries to defend himself, but she isn’t having it, soft billows of laughter falling from her swollen, wet lips. He pouts. “Fine, then, jus’ take my gift and completely squander it.”

Ever the dramatic one.

She stands up, brushing the sand that accumulated in the folds of her dress.

“Put your cock away. We should head back before everyone gets suspicious,” she says.

“After everything I do for you, you still make me put my own cock away,” he scoffs, teasing smile still curled over his features. He shakes his head.

“Last time I did, you said I was bein’ too rough,” she says, brow cocked and hip jutted. He concedes to her and tucks himself back into his slacks. “C’mon, sugar butt,” she says, pulling him onto his feet. He stumbles, standing more onto the heels of his feet to get used to the heat of the sand. She has the flower tucked behind her ear.

If anyone noticed their beaming smiles or their rumbled clothes or the scratchiness to her voice, they don’t say anything. They don’t say anything then, or when Y/N parts from him with a quick peck on the cheek and a pinch to his bum. They don’t say anything when he gives her even more teasing glances when he’s in front of the camera or when he stops by her after a quick wardrobe change and gives her a deep kiss, followed by a whispered promise of more to come.

—

[jonahlovescoffee]

Night Changes | J.M.

a/n this fanfic is inspired by one direction’s hit song with the same title. u can also listen to jonah’s cover of the same song here.This is the first complete fanfic I’ve ever written in my entire pathetic life and it has been rotting away in my files app for a while now lol u can see how insecure i was (and am) to put this out here but here it is anyways :’) any constructive criticism is appreciated <3 happy reading!!

summary: the death of his friend’s girlfriend made Jonah realize that nothing in life is permanent, including you.

warnings: mentions of death

word count: 2136

“We're only getting older, baby; And I've been thinking about it lately; Does it ever drive you crazy; Just how fast the night changes?”

It was yet another ordinary weekend night where Jonah and his band were gathered in the little studio of Daniel’s home, busy composing new music for their upcoming album without a care in the world when Corbyn’s phone rang all of a sudden.

Corbyn’s eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw the caller ID on the screen before sliding the answer button to the right and excusing himself from the small room to take the call. No one thought much about it and proceeded with their songwriting process. However, when half an hour passed with Corbyn’s absence, that was when Jonah’s gut feeling told him that something wasn’t right. He brushed that thought off as quick as it entered his mind, trying his best to ignore the fact that he caught a glimpse of the caller ID and it was his girlfriend’s mother calling him, which was undeniably weird. As his roommate and best friend, Jonah could confirm that she had never called Corbyn unless there was an emergency. Heck, the last time she called him was when her car broke down somewhere in downtown LA and Corbyn was the only one she knew who lived close enough to pick her up.

His suspicion was soon proven right when Corbyn barged into the room seconds later with tears running down his cheeks nonstop like a river. Daniel, who was seated the closest to the door jumped up in shock just as Corbyn fell into his arms and started sobbing. The other boys made their ways to them as Daniel patted Corbyn’s back in attempt to calm him down.

“What’s wrong?” Zach asked curiously and Jack elbowed him on the arm. “Ow, what was that for?” Zach exclaimed, earning a glare from the other male that clearly said, “Can’t you wait until he stops crying to pry for answers?”

“She killed herself,” Corbyn managed to say between sobs.

“Who?” Daniel asked softly.

“My girlfriend,” the 4 boys’ breaths hitched in utter shock. None of them were expecting this news in forever. Madeline was the most cheerful and optimistic girl Jonah had ever met. She brought sunlight and joy into every room she entered. Were those traits of hers merely a mask to hide all the despair and anxiety underneath? It didn’t make any sense whatsoever.

“My sweetheart killed herself,” Corbyn repeated, mostly to himself with a hint of disbelief in his tone. It was evident that he was still having a hard time letting the fact sink in. “We just went out for dinner last night and now she’s gone. Forever. She didn’t even say goodbye. What should I do? How can I live without her?”

“She should’ve said something. I could’ve done so much to help her instead of letting her die just like that. I saw the scars on her hand last night but I assumed it was nothing serious. It’s my fault. I could’ve stepped in and save her but I didn’t. Why? Why?!” Corbyn screamed and tugged at his hair frustratedly.

Silence ensued, the only sound being Corbyn’s uncontrollable sobs. No one said anything because they knew that no words were powerful enough to comfort him for the time being. The most they could do was be there for him.

#

Jonah pulled up in your driveway in the middle of the night. He left his house right away after ensuring that Corbyn was sound asleep in his room in fear of his best friend trying anything stupid under the influence of tremendous grief. He knew that you were probably asleep at this hour and he should’ve waited until the morning to pay you a visit but he couldn’t wait any longer. Madeline’s death had made him realise that nothing in life lasts forever and he wanted—no, needed—to be by your side tonight to make up for the past few days of neglecting you because of work.

After some debating in his head whether to wake you up from your deep slumber like an ignorant boyfriend or just turn around and go home, he turned off the engine and rushed out of his car and onto your doorstep before he could change his mind. He used the same key you gave him months ago to unlock the front door and was then greeted by a silent pitch black, empty living room. He locked the door with a soft click behind him before tiptoeing up the stairs and entering your room. He made sure to keep his movements as silent as possible as he knew better than anyone that you were a terribly light sleeper and could be awoken easily by the softest sounds. He took off his shoes and joined you on the king-sized bed, wrapping his arms around your sleeping figure gently to pull you closer to him. He contentedly nuzzled your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo that smelled like cherry blossoms and spring air. It was only then he felt truly at ease, with you perfectly safe and sound in his arms.

As he half expected, you stirred from your sleep, wiggling your body slightly before turning towards him, your arms habitually made their way around his neck even in your half-awake state. You couldnt help but smile when you felt him tightening his arms around you like he was holding onto you for dear life. “Hey, love,” you mumbled groggily, staring up at him with droopy eyelids in your pyjamas that had bunny patterns all over them that you were more than embarrassed to be seen in by anyone but you could care less since Jonah had been your boyfriend long enough to know about your preference for childish pyjamas over mature flimsy nightgowns. “What brings you here?”

“Just wanna see you,” he replied with a smile. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and took a moment to drink in your beauty—the crinkle by your eyes when you smile, you supple lips and the freckles on your cheeks that were illuminated by the soft moonlight that shone through the windows—all ordinary features of yours that you had never been particularly fond of but were all made perfect in his eyes. He was lucky to have the chance of calling you his, but Madeline’s unexpected death that night made him wonder how long this could last? Without realising, he let his mind drift further into the sea of uncertainties of the future, getting more anxious by the second, especially when he was met with the thought of ever losing you one day.

“Jo, are you okay?” You asked worriedly when you noticed his tense expression. He offered you a meek smile in return. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” he replied, but his furrowed brows claimed otherwise.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that face, dear. What’s wrong?” You watched him stay silent for a while as if he was trying to come up with a suitable answer to your question.

”I just...can I stay over tonight with you?” He asked and you let out a hum in agreement, your hands rubbing soothing patterns down his back. Even after all this time, he still hadn’t managed to get rid of the old habit of asking for your permission to spend the night at your place although he knew that you would agree without hesitation every single time he did so. You wanted nothing more than to find out what was going on in his head at that moment but he didn’t look like he was in the mood to talk, so you pushed your questions aside for later.

Both of you stayed like that for who knew how long, unmoving, limbs tangled with each other’s as the cool night breeze wafted into the room through the opened windows. “Madeline died,” he said out of the blue, breaking the silence. Shock was an understatement to what you felt. You couldn’t believe your ears. You weren’t exactly best friends with Madeline but still close enough to hang out together occasionally when both of you were free from your hectic schedules, mainly because Jonah and her used to have a thing for each other back in high school before she got with Corbyn so there had always been a tinge of awkwardness between you two. Yet this news hit you hard all the same.

Tears welled up in your eyes before you knew it. “When?”

“Few hours ago,” Jonah answered, his hand stroking your hair with the utmost gentleness, which prompted your tears to resume falling. He let you cry it all out without a single complaint about your tears staining his shirt. “She took her own life.”

“Why?” You sniffled and he shook his head. “No one knows; I guess even the most optimistic person on earth has her invisible demons too,” he said with a sigh.

“Is that the reason why you came here tonight?” You wiped your tears away with the long sleeves of your shirt as you took several deep breaths to recompose yourself, bracing yourself for his answer. Old feelings die hard, that was what you always hear people said, especially your first love. Part of you were scared that Jonah still harboured feelings for her even after all this years and you were nothing but an emotional support rebound tonight.

“Yes and no. I came here after hearing about the news, yes, but I’m not here to mourn about her, for now,” he added the last two words hastily in case you get the wrong idea and thought that he was being rude. You were ashamed for feeling extremely relieved that his answer wasn’t what you expected. “I came here to make up for the past few days of absence and make sure that you’re alright. Have you ever, you know, done that?”

It took you few seconds to get what he meant. “Of course not, Jo. I promise you, I never tried self-harm before, and I never will,” you replied truthfully.

“Thank god,” he sighed with relief and planted a tender kiss on your forehead, “I don’t know what I’d do if you said yes.”

“You know that you’ll be the first one I talk to if I have anything bothering me, right?” You took his hand in yours while staring at him expectantly for an answer but none came. “Jonah, please don’t tell me that you seriously think that I’m someone who resorts to harming myself when the going gets tough?”

“I...I don’t know,” he admitted sheepishly which earned a sigh from you, a small smile tugging at your lips. You still couldn’t believe how this man in front of you—a confident rising boyband star—could get so worked up over a plain girl like you. He swallowed thickly before continuing, “Today made me question everything I know like how long this relationship can last—how long we’ll get to stay us until the world decides to tear us apart. We always said we’ll be together until the end of times but so did Corbyn and Madeline and look at them now. Madeline just....left without a word to anyone. I know it’s stupid but I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you and now I’m being such a sap and you probably are disgusted —”

“Jonah, stop. You’re over-thinking everything. I’m not disgusted at you, not even one bit,” you raised a hand to his cheek and traced a thumb over it tenderly, knowing that this simple gesture never failed to soothe his raging emotions. “It’s normal to feel this way, love. But whenever you do, please remember this: there’s nothing to be afraid of because I love you so much, Jonah Marais Roth Frantzich, that I can never ever think of hurting myself because I know that that’ll hurt you; I love you so much that I started crying a little less, smiling a little more because I know that no matter how hard my day is, I’ll always have you to come home to.”

You watched as a tear escaped from him. “I don’t know what the future holds but I can promise you this,” you locked your eyes with his, your gaze filled with the utmost love and adoration in contrast with his worried one. “No matter how fast the night changes, it’ll never change me and you.”

“You promise?” His lips curled upwards into a small smile as he leaned in, leaving only an inch between your lips, your breaths mingling with each other’s. As always, butterflies erupted in your stomach at the close proximity as you mirrored his expression with a sweet smile of your own.

“Forever and always,” you breathed and he closed the distance between your lips, sealing the promise.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

June Contest Submission #13: sound of rain

Words: ca. 5,500 Setting: mAU Lemon: No CW: Angst, incest shame, mentions of driving in storms

What were Anna’s greatest fears, you ask? Well, for starters, she was scared of clowns. And spiders. And those Minecraft icebergs videos on youtube that always played creepy music in the background and promised to not discuss creepypastas of any kind (but were always lying. Those especially kept her up at night).

However, not even the most predictable jumpscare, which always sent Anna falling off her chair like the adult she was, could hold a candle to the way her stomach sank when her mother called that one night at 7 pm. Anna could barely hear her phone below the branches rattling against the windows and the heavy rain loudly splattering on their roof. She’d already been on edge since she heard the wind blowing a little bit harsher than usual. It resembled a woman’s shriek. But when she tiptoed towards her phone (like she did whenever she was spooked), she was thrust into a much more horrifying ordeal, one she’d been trying to avoid every time the chance came up. Her throat went dry. She clenched her fist.

“Anna, love, we won’t be able to make it home tonight.”

They’d leave them alone. The two sisters. Alone at night.

“We’ll stay with some friends. They live only a few blocks away from work.”

Heavy footfalls echoed down the stairs. A wretched feeling clawed at Anna’s stomach. 

“We already told your sister. She’ll take care of you.”

Her sister. Elsa, her sister, who stood now on the bottom of the stairs, staring at Anna without interrupting this one-sided stream of words their mother poured into her ears. The shirt she wore was shoulderless. 

Anna coughed.

“O-oh! Is it really that bad over there?”

“The streets are flooded, love. Crap, I think it’s only getting worse. We’ll leave in the morning as soon as it’s safe.”

Safe. 

Anna swallowed.

“Is that alright? Do you need us? We… we could try to drive there if you’re scared.”

“No!” Anna blurted, startling Elsa. “Wait, what? No-no-no-no, you guys stay there. Elsa and I will be fine, right, Els?” She shot her sister a quick look. Elsa nodded. “We’ll… we’ll have a girl’s night. Paint each other’s nails and stuff. Easy-peasy!”

Elsa nodded again. 

‘Easy-peasy’. Who ever said that? Why would Anna say that? It wasn’t easy-peasy at all.

Anna wasn’t an easily scared person. Sure, she used to snuggle with her sister during the scary parts of Sharkboy and Lavagirl, but that was in the past. She was a very responsible 18-years-old grown-up now. Planning a trip for her gap year once school was over and all. She wasn’t scared of spending a night without her parents, and she wasn’t scared of some rain. She wasn’t even scared of Elsa’s terrible cooking.

Something else that kept her on edge.

There was this boy at school. He was in her class. A senior, like her. He was funny. Cute, even. They liked to hang out during lunchtime and free periods. He was mostly nice to her, but there was this thing he’d said that day, just as a light rain began to fall. Just a tiny thing that stayed with her after school was over. 

Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.

“Are you trying to stab your meal?” Elsa asked. Anna realized she was holding her knife above the poor tortured pasta. She must have been punishing it without noticing.

“Sorry,” she murmured, then placed the knife down. “I’m just… just…”

She looked up, and her heart sank a little. Her sister’s eyes were downcast, her expression melancholic and somber. She avoided her sister’s gaze.

Anna’s mouth shut.

She’d been getting too caught up in her inner ramblings. 

“Are you alright? You look a bit down.”

Elsa smiled sadly and shook her head. 

“It’s nothing.”

Anna squinted, studying Elsa’s expression. Her lopsided smile, her delicate hands on the table, her avoidant gaze.

“I know what’s wrong. You’re thinking about Honeymaren again.”

Elsa exhaled through her nose. It was that nose-exhale laugh that was barely a laugh, but Anna always counted it as one to add to her mental list of times she made Elsa laugh.

“Is it that obvious?”

“I just know that face. Your secret is safe with me,” Anna promised, with a smile. “Now, spill it. What’s on your mind?”

Elsa shrugged.

“I… don’t know. I feel like I wasn’t honest with her. About… how I felt.”

Anna frowned, but didn’t interrupt.

Elsa breathed deeply. She still avoided Anna’s gaze.

“It wasn’t fair for her. That is all.”

“Don’t you think your sister should know?”

The boy’s voice echoed between her ears. Anna resisted the urge to sweep her head from side to side.

Now she was avoiding Elsa’s gaze, and she was sure she was blushing. It must be visible under the kitchen’s cold light. Her leg began bouncing, almost on its own. It did that when she had too much energy. Or when she was uneasy. 

A bitter feeling settled in her stomach. She could escape from her thoughts for some time but not forever. Everything was a potential reminder.

“Anna.”

Anna’s head snapped up. Her mind went blank for a moment. 

She found her sister’s eyes locked with hers. They were kind. Gentle.

“Thank you for asking,” Elsa said. Anna’s heart gave a leap, because those eyes were on her, and her sister was gazing at her and that was such an unbelievable honor, to be seen by this wonderful woman. 

Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth again. She clenched her teeth. She gulped audibly. Her vocal cords seemed to be tied up.

In that moment, the need to tell her everything seized her. It was the need to be honest with Elsa and the need to get it out of her mind. She craved comfort and reassurance.

She had Elsa’s full attention, but no matter how much Anna wanted it, she held herself back.

Instead, she smiled and stood up.

“Come on. I’ll do the dishes.”

Because here’s the thing: Anna was a loving, caring, protecting soul. She liked listening to boys at school complain about their many brothers. She liked hearing about her parents’ work. She even liked hearing Elsa talk about her crushes, her fears, her college classes, or her ex-girlfriends. As she saw it, providing a safe space and a willing ear was a big part of loving others,

Another big part of loving others was knowing when to keep quiet.

There simply were issues you wouldn’t discuss with some of your friends. That’s just a fact. You probably wouldn’t gush about boys or girls with your grandma, and you wouldn’t ask your friends in sophomore year for help setting up a bank account. Ever since Honeymaren, Anna had been careful not to burden Elsa too much. She didn’t tell her about her falling-out with her best friend, Kristoff, or about her doubts and anxieties concerning college. Right now, Elsa needed peace and support.

Likewise, some matters belonged in the therapist’s office, and not in family dinners. 

Anna wasn’t easily scared. This wasn’t fear. It was logic. It was making the smartest decision. Doing the right thing for the people you love. 

Doing the dishes was soothing. Under the hard splash of the water, she could almost drown out the memory of the boy’s words (“You do know you’re obvious, right? Does she know you’re this obsessed with her?”) and the rough rain hitting the roof. It was getting louder. Heavier. She wondered if power would go out. She wondered if her parents were alright half a city away.

“We should call them before heading to bed,” Elsa commented. Anna’s twisted mind extrapolated some very wicked thoughts out of Elsa’s wording.

“Y-yeah,” she agreed, and her mind couldn’t come up with anything smarter to say, so she bit her lip and decided to leave it at that instead of clumsily rambling and risking saying something she didn’t mean. 

Elsa waited for her to finish washing. It was awkward. Of the two, Anna was the only one who knew how to maintain a conversation (under normal circumstances, but sharing space with Elsa hadn’t felt like a normal circumstance in a very long time). So, Elsa, unable to come up with a thing to say, simply paced around the kitchen until Anna was done. She didn’t know why. Anna wasn’t providing much of a spectacle. 

They headed to bed a few minutes later. A strong wind had joined the rain in their torment, and they both mockingly swirled around the house and scratched the walls and windows with their twig-claws and their cloud-shawls. If you looked out the window, you wouldn’t see an inch of asphalt on the streets: they were completely hidden by a glistening layer of rainwater. If you opened the window, you’d hear the vertiginous slosh of water against water. When Anna was fourteen, she and her family had gone to see the Niagara Falls (Elsa had held her hand the entire time), and the sheer thunderous loudness could put this city rainfall to shame, but it was the closest comparison Anna could find. It was harsh. It was maddening. It was growing louder and Anna’s gut was twisted into a tighter and tighter knot. 

She gulped and decided not to look out the window.

She shot Elsa a quick half-assed goodbye and locked herself in her room, and then she sighed.

Safe at last.

Her room was a mess, but it was her mess. The kind of mess you would describe as encrypted data if you knew how encrypted data worked. Whatever. The point was that only Anna, with the use of her unique knowledge of her room’s jungle, could find lost phones, hairbands and socks among the piles of clothes and half-finished paper crafts scattered around the floor and on the carpet, which had been folded in half when Anna tripped over it, and she’d never brought herself to fix it. The boy band posters and continental maps on her wall were all about to fall off and her poor Duolingo Owl plushie somehow ended up under her bed. She rescued him, sat cross-legged on her bed, and hugged him to her chest, seeking some warmth and comfort. It… it was growing quite cold. She’d need to find another blanket. Somewhere.

She sent her parents a quick goodnight text, read some Supernatural fanfiction on her phone for a few minutes, and gave another try to her Duolingo course after being harassed by the feral green bird a little. She tried everything to distract herself from this odd empty feeling in her stomach.

It wasn’t that she was scared. Okay, sure: the loud whistling wind and the heavy rain did make her nervous, but that was ridiculous. She had no reason why. The one time her family had been stuck in a storm like this, they’d been driving down the road, in the dark, in the rain. A light flashed before them (a driver with broken headlights), and her dad hit the brakes. The wheels slid across the water. He lost control for a moment, her mother yelped, the car accelerated out of control and…

And then her father took control again. He’d steered the wheel in just the right way and drove them home safely. Anna didn’t even remember being scared back then. It had been like a rollercoaster for her, and she loved those. 

Her sister didn’t deal with it as nicely. She had an anxiety attack and refused to get in the car for the following week. Anna had decided to join her mutiny in solidarity, and they ended up walking to school together for some time. Anna wasn’t sure how she did it, but her mere presence and support seemed to calm Elsa’s nerves, even if they were only eleven and fourteen at the time, and neither knew what to do in scary situations.

Funnily enough, Anna wouldn’t say she knew any better at eighteen. Elsa was older, so hopefully she did. Hopefully, she’d figured out the way. 

Those were the main thoughts coursing through her mind when she heard her sister knock on her door.

“Anna? Are you awake?”

Anna… kind of froze. She gripped her plushie and faced the side of her room opposite to the door. Oh, what should she say? Was Elsa worried? Had she given her a reason to worry?

“No, I’m not!” Anna shouted back. Yes, alright. That would communicate she was awake if Elsa needed her, but she didn’t want to get up, all tied up with a little bit of humor to quell whatever anxieties were tormenting her big sister this time.

Anna’s anxieties, however? They squeezed her heart like a hand. Squeeze and release. Squeeze and release. Like a stress ball. Pounding blood. Into her ears. It was harsh and maddening.

A pause.

“I just wanted to say… if you need anything, I’ll be in my room.”

Anna nodded, even though Elsa couldn’t see her.

“Thanks!” 

Her own voice sounded so loud. So hysteric. Was she hysteric? She felt hysteric. Too loud. She was vaguely aware of Elsa’s footsteps retreating.

Her heart sprang painfully. She’d worried her. She didn’t mean to worry her, yet at the same time hearing her leave only filled her with deeper desperation. The wind howled outside. It shook the whole house. Rain seeped through every nook and cranny. Power would go out. Anna was sure of it. What if a cable post was knocked down by the wind? What if a tree did? There was one right next to Anna’s room. If the wind blew in just the right way it could crush her. 

She curled deeper into her covers. Oh, how she wished Elsa had kicked down the door and entered Anna’s room unannounced. She wished Elsa had stayed with her.

There had been a time in which Anna felt very safe in her sister’s arms, before she started to turn into something else. Back then, her hugs felt so warm and gentle and loving, like nothing could harm her as long as she stayed there. With time, her brain began to give them a different resignify them into something less wholesome. Something more… erotic. Anna couldn’t remember the last time she’d dared to embrace her sister.

When had that happened? Was it when Anna was in middle school and she began to admire her sister a bit more than usual for girls her age? Did she turn into what she was now when she realized what it meant? Was she born with it?

Anna was a brave girl, but the idea of being “born with it” was the most terrifying of all.

“You’re so obvious, Anna.”

It was stronger than her.

A low rumble in the distance. Loud. Louder. Followed by a flashing light.

Her heart stopped. Lungs stopped. Throat dried. Wind screamed and Branches rattled. Her muscles burned with tension as she gripped her plushie to her chest.

…Well, Elsa wasn’t coming for her. But she did offer an invitation. And… and she wouldn’t have to do anything. Anna would just sit there. In her room. It wasn’t odd or concerning for people to be anxious during storms. It was such a small and harmless weight to dump on Elsa’s shoulders, nothing at all like the words brewing at the bottom of Anna’s throat. Not a burden. Not something disturbing, scary, off-putting.

So she slid her legs off the bed, opened the door, and carefully tip-toed across the hallway, still holding the plushie, and then she knocked on Elsa’s door.

It took a moment.

“Come in.”

Anna sighed dramatically. She hesitated, but twisted the doorknob regardless and quietly slipped in.

Elsa’s room was nothing like hers. For starters, she had a huge periodic table on her wall. That should say enough about her place of dwelling. Still, cool science stuff aside, Anna could never help but notice the adorable baby pink bed covers on her bed, always so neatly laid, or her pristine wooden floors, the family photos hanging on the wall, on every spot free from scientific stuff and broadway posters. She had all of her hockey trophies arranged on a shelf, and a few embroidery supplies on her desk. On her bedside, there was a tiny door frame with a picture of her and Anna, on that Niagara Falls vacation. They looked so tiny and childish and innocent. 

Elsa was already in bed, but she was sitting up and turning on the bedside lamp as soon as Anna entered. She wore a slightly-too-flattering white nightgown. 

“Anna?” 

Her gentle raspy voice broke Anna out of her thoughts. She blinked.

“Uh?”

“Is everything alright?” Elsa asked. Her loose hair was flawless. How could her hair be so flawless?

“Y-you mean me? Yes! Yes, I’m… totally good,” she stammered, then shifted on her feet, wrung her hands together and said: “I just… I-it’s pretty rainy outside, isn’t it?”

Elsa opened her mouth to speak, but then another crash of thunder shook Anna’s eardrums, and next thing she knew, she was cowering under Elsa’s covers like a scared puppy. Head hidden and all. 

Her sister chuckled and stroked Anna’s head through the blankets.

“Are you still totally good?”

“…Maybe?” Anna squeaked. “I-I think I’ll be more good here.”

She could almost feel Elsa’s grin as her hand drifted down to pet Anna’s back.

“You know, I was wondering when we’d have a sleepover again,” she commented. “I worried you may think we’re too old for them.”

Anna’s head shot up from her blanket cocoon.

“What? You’re never too old for sleepovers!” She declared, at the outrageous claim. That got a laugh out of Elsa, and it was so beautiful and graceful, knowing she’d caused it made Anna’s heart soar.

“Then come here.” She laid down again, and Anna’s stomach flipped when she reached a hand across the bed and over her body. Eyes wide, brain dead, she could barely process what was going on until Elsa asked: “Do you want me to turn off the light?”

Oh. Oh, right. Yeah. The light.

Anna nodded. The whole goal was to fall asleep, after all. She, uh, she’d be fine without the light.

The lights went out with a click. 

Elsa settled in bed. 

Anna exhaled. 

Without any sound other than Elsa’s breathing, the swoosh of the leaves and the whistling of the wind felt louder. There were more trees on Elsa’s side. No shit they were louder. Their branches swatted and scratched the poor tortured window.

The thunder was getting closer.

It echoed louder every time. Closer every time. And it sounded more angry and violent than before. Anna’s heart found solace in Elsa’s closeness but it still wasn’t enough. 

Elsa seemed unaware of Anna’s growing restlessness. She needed a bit more.

“Elsa?” She whispered. Her sister hummed in response— a question. Anna could hear herself say the words in her mind but they sounded so pathetic and obvious she couldn’t bring herself to pronounce them— sisters didn’t say these things—, so instead, she just scooched closer, still hugging the plushie close as a barrier between her and Elsa, and an excuse to not wrap her arms around her. She timidly tucked her head under her chin.

Shame hit her right away— she was taking advantage of her sister’s ignorance. If she knew the truth, she’d never let her so close. Your family was meant to be your safe place. A refuge where you weren’t seen as a meal or an object of desire. Was this not the greatest form of betrayal? When you sought your family for safety and comfort, and they crossed the ultimate line by… by…

Elsa sighed and wrapped her arms around Anna, pulling her close. One of her hands delicately tangled into her hair.

For a moment, there was silence. And warmth. An unbreakable sense of love and security. All Anna could hear was Elsa’s beating heart and her breathing. Then, a kiss on the top of her hair.

“It’s okay, Anna,” she murmured. Anna blinked. Then blinked again. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t say a word. Elsa squeezed her tighter. “I got you,”

Anna’s eyes brimmed with tears. She held her breath and covered her mouth. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t right. Elsa didn’t know and she couldn’t know. It would hurt her so much, and all Anna wanted was to see her happy. And saying it out loud would mean it was true. That she could no longer hide from it. She had truly turned into something unredeemable. 

She thought of that photo of them, when they were little. 

When had that changed? When had she changed?

She shouldn’t be so close to her. This had been a huge mistake.

She sniffled.

“I’m sorry.”

She barely heard herself over the sound of rushing blood in her ears.

Elsa stiffened.

“For what?”

She sounded curious and worried at the same time, and Anna really should have shut her mouth, really shouldn’t have said anything at all. She was a hypocrite. She knew bringing this up was a horrible thing to do. 

“Is it because you came looking for me?” Elsa asked. Now Anna had to give her answers. Any kind of answer. She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t tell anything to anyone. This was her burden to carry and forcing someone else beneath it was cruel. 

She nodded. Elsa’s hand kneaded her shoulder.

“You don’t have to be sorry for that.”

Anna shrugged her shoulders up to her ears. She was a hypocrite. A hypocrite. She remembered that time on a week-long school trip when, texting Elsa late into the night, she’d asked her if he was okay. Was she okay? Realization of her feelings had hit right as she was leaving and it now plagued her every thought like a leech latched onto her heart. She couldn’t tear them out. The trip was supposed to be fun but all she could do was roll her thoughts over in her head, disseminating them like frogs, desperately trying to find proof that she was still herself, that she wasn’t changing, that she could have these feelings for someone else, that he could have a future. And then Elsa sent her a text— “I miss you”— and Anna couldn’t keep her hands to herself. She shouldn’t have replied at all. But they talked and talked and talked until Elsa noticed something was off and asked about it and Anna wrote “I’m just scared because I feel something I shouldn’t and I always thought I was good and clean and safe to be around but I’m scared I may be sick and gross and I don’t know what to do I think I may die if this is true and I don’t want anyone to know and I’m so sorry I’m scaring you with this I shouldn’t be telling you this at all and I feel like a hypocrite telling you all of this—.”

She’d deleted the whole wall of text.

“I’m just a bit sleepy.”

Then she tried to go to sleep. 

It should have been enough, shouldn’t it? Putting her thoughts into words helped her down the panic spike. Coming back home wasn’t as torturous as she’d feared. Seeing her sister wasn’t paralyzing or incapacitating. They could still play Mario Kart and watch bad Netflix originals together and sometimes, she could convince herself she’d been scared for nothing. The intensity dissipated. She felt safe again.

Then the panic came back. 

Lightning flashed again and her whole body tensed up, as if struck herself. Elsa’s hand rubbed circles on her back. 

“Anna,” she said. “Are you sure that’s all?”

Anna’s breath hitched. 

“I-I…”

She couldn’t.

Elsa wouldn’t force her. She knew that. Anna only had to say she didn’t want to talk about it, and she’d drop it. She had the power here. 

Yet her jaw was stuck open.

She heard thunder again. She’d come into Elsa’s bed in her own volition. She didn’t feel scared of thunder in her arms.

She could drop it. She could let the panic spike pass, but it would always come back, until she left forever (hopefully), until Elsa was nothing but a painful distant memory, but that wouldn’t make any of them any happier. A gaping wound left untreated. 

No! No! She couldn’t tell her the truth! She couldn’t admit to being the kind of person who shows up in the news for others to morbidly gawk at, the kind of people who hurt their own flesh and blood, who hurt the people who trusted them the most. Her sister would try her damn hardest but she’d never be able to look at her in the same way. She wasn’t just ill. She was becoming part of the illness itself. It defined her whether she liked it or not. 

She’d never tell anyone. But if she never told anyone, she feared the illness would never heal. That the panic would never go away for good. Oh, it would be so much easier if Elsa forced her to confess, if she had no choice at all. She wanted her to knock down her door, insist until Anna had nowhere to escape and then embrace her and promise she’d love her forever, regardless of what Anna changed into. 

But Elsa didn’t insist after her original question. She waited silently for Anna to speak.

And someday, she’d stop asking, because she knew Anna wouldn’t reply.

One day, she’d stop knocking on her door and wait for Anna to come looking for her instead.

One day, she may even believe Anna was alright, and withdraw her offer of support. Then what kind of terrifying things would Anna have to do to feel her arms around her again?

Was that what she wanted?

Yes.

No.

No. 

One of her hands released the plushie and gripped Elsa’s nightgown.

“I need to tell you something,” she choked out.

Elsa’s hand on her back stopped.

“I’m here,” she reassured her, and Anna nearly sobbed.

She inhaled very deeply.

“I had a talk with this boy at school today, and I’ve been thinking about it all day.” She screwed her eyes shut. “I think there’s something wrong with me. F-for some time. I feel things that aren’t like me. Like… Like they’re things someone else would feel. And what does that say about me!?”

“I’m… sorry, I don’t think I understand,” Elsa said.

“Right,” Anna sniffled. “I’m sorry. I know this is coming out of nowhere and…”

“No, no, no!” Elsa quickly sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. “I want to hear you. What do you need?”

Anna’s heart swelled with love. How could she so easily capture her affections all over again?

She sat up with her. Their legs dangled down the bed. Elsa had some very pretty legs.

“I…” her heart pounded so quickly. “I feel things that are… wrong. And I don’t know how I could have these feelings! I really don’t want them. I want…” She wanted to be good. At school, at home, with her friends, she wanted to be the funny one. The cute one. The kind one. This huge stain in her heart changed that. It made her feel like a liar. “I feel like I’m not… me. Like this is so wrong I-I’m gonna disappear.”

Elsa breathed, slowly.

“It feels like a loss of identity,” she concluded. 

Anna nodded. A complete loss of the self. 

“Exactly,” she exhaled. Then she gulped. Her heart punished her ribs and it hurt but it had been easier than she thought.

A huge weight was lifted off her shoulders.

Elsa frowned, and looked Anna in the eye.

“Anna… listen. Whatever it is that you’re feeling, you’re still you.”

Her gaze was piercing and hard and protective and Anna could feel her throat go dry.

“But…”

“No. I want you to listen.” Elsa grasped her hands, and only then seemed to notice the plushie Anna had brought along. She smiled at it. “Do you remember why I got you this?”

“Because you were making fun of me?”

“Only slightly. I saw it in a store and remembered how excited you were about learning korean for your boy bands.”

“Their music is good! People are just mean.”

Elsa chuckled. They’d gone over it a million times already.

“I remember how you went over twelve different instruments in elementary school, until you discovered you preferred singing. I wish you would sing to me someday.”

Anna’s face burned. 

“That would be very embarrassing.”

“I think you would be lovely.”

She had to duck her head and avoid Elsa’s gaze this time.

“You always liked arts and crafts, too. But you want to study social sciences in college. You always loved history, too. I still have that book about brave women of history somewhere. You had me read Joan D’Arc’s story out loud before you could read on your own. That one was always your favorite. You also kept a spider as a pet below your bed for a month because you said spiders deserved love, too, and you have maps hanging on your room because you want to travel the world, and you’re still deciding where to go on your gap year.” Elsa brushed her cheek with the back of her knuckles. Her stomach twisted and leaped. It was vertiginous. “You’re so much more than what you think you may feel, and I don’t think you’ve changed at all.” She tucked her hair behind her ear— “You’re so beautiful, Anna—,” and took a deep breath. “It’s why I fell in love with you.”

Anna blinked. Then frowned. Her mouth opened and closed. She looked at Elsa looking for a hint that she may be kidding but she looked so serious and shy and hopeful— but she was into acting after all, wasn’t she?

Anna coughed. 

“Thank you.”

Elsa gave her a confused look.

“For what?”

“For trying to make me feel better”

Her frown deepened.

“You think I’m lying to you?”

Crap.

“Wait, what? That's… wait, that’s not what I meant.”

“I’m trying to be honest with you!”

Anna shook her head.

“But… but…” 

Elsa watched her, waiting. She was so elegant and regal and beautiful and human. 

“But you’re so perfect!”

Elsa averted her gaze.

“I’d doubt that,” she said. Her chest heaved. “I’m… Anna, I’m telling you this because… hold on, I’m understanding this correctly, right?” Fear crossed her eyes. “You feel the same way?”

Anna’s brain whirred like a train out of rail.

“Y-you mean…?”

Elsa nodded.

She gulped. Her stomach sank with shame. She covered her face.

“I didn’t want you to find out.”

“No, no, I’m…” Elsa vacillated. She was just as lost. “I’m glad you told me.”

…Okay, alright, alright. Anna needed to take a deep breath. And drink some water.

“I’m gonna get some water,” she said.

It took her like half an hour to find a bottle (one she wisely spent internally freaking out, because her sister felt the same way hersisterfeltthesamewayhersisterfeltthesameway), and when she returned, Elsa was right where she left her, sitting on her bed, staring at the periodic table on her wall and quietly reciting each element to calm herself down.

She had no business being so adorable.

“…So, you feel the same way?” Elsa asked a few moments later, after they both exchanged the bottle a few times.

“Yeah,” Anna replied. It felt thrilling and terrifying and liberating to say it out loud. “And you’re not…?”

“I’m not lying to make you feel better,” Elsa promised, leaning in and smiling at her. “I-I truly can’t believe it.”

Anna choked on her water, like a genius hersisterfeltthesameway—

“I can’t believe it either.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin when Elsa’s hand fell on hers, and it took her a second to realize this was permission— an invitation— her sister felt the same way— and she was allowed to squeeze back. 

“W-what does this mean?” She asked. “I mean… what now?”

“It doesn’t mean we need to be in a relationship,” Elsa stated. The mere mention of a relationship nearly gave Anna a heart attack (the good kind). “We should… We should think things through. Take our time.” She glanced at the curtains. “It’s late. We can talk in the morning.”

“Y-yeah. You’re right.”

Neither of them moved. 

Then, Elsa’s thumb trailed over Anna’s cheekbone, shily brushed over her chin. Warmth spread across Anna’s stomach and heart, and under Elsa’s loving, approving gaze, for once she felt like herself.

Her sister felt the same way.

“Can I kiss you?”

It was an unexpected surge of courage— she must be high on it. The words felt like dipping below the waves, like the vertigo of looking over the railing and watching the water fall.

Elsa smiled, shyly, nervously, and with a hooked finger guided Anna forward.

She’d never touched something so soft, so kind and gentle. She’d never felt so safe and loved. 

“You’re still you.”

Still me.

She tightened her grip on Elsa’s hand. 

The kiss was chaste. They pulled away. Hearts racing. So quickly. So loudly. They couldn’t even hear the rain.

Elsa beamed.

“Come on.” She tugged at her hand. “Let’s go to sleep.”

Perhaps it was raining outside. Anna couldn’t hear it. She could only hear Elsa’s rapid happy heart against her ear. Her eyes misted over but for an entirely new reason. She squeezed her sister’s waist.

“I love you, Elsa.”

She could almost hear Elsa’s heart picking up speed.

“I love you too.”

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

TATMILB, CHAPTER 4

Penelope spent her life writing love letters, which didn’t seem like a terrible idea until the letters were mailed out and Schneider received one of them. Hoping to fool their exes, they agree to fake a relationship. But are they lying to everyone around them, or to themselves? aka my To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before-inspired AU.

Penelope x Schneider, ODAAT. available on ao3 with extra author’s notes.

Chapter 4: Ben comes to Penelope’s door bearing a letter. Penelope explains the situation to Schneider over ice cream. She scoffs at his proposal but can’t wave it away so easily once she’s alone with her thoughts.

Dear Ben,

It’s been a really long time since I felt the way I did when I was with you--I know talking about it makes me sound like a giddy teenager. 

But in so many ways, that’s how you made me feel. I was full of lighthearted happiness, hormones and that need to know everything about somebody that only happens at the beginning of a relationship.

The story of how we met sounds like a movie: I poured my heart out to you, thinking you were gay and couldn’t possibly be interested in me, and you turned the tables by asking me out. A night full of self-loathing and guilt led to a moment where I felt really attractive. And considering how hard life had been lately, especially in the romance department, it meant a lot that you looked at me in my emotional half-drunk state and saw someone worth getting to know. 

All of that makes how we ended worse. I’m sorry for what happened with Victor, for how easily and how quickly I became a cliche--the ex-wife who takes back her apologetic husband, who believes and trusts when she shouldn’t...who gives up a good man for a familiar one. 

We had fun while it lasted, didn’t we? It’s the what-ifs that haunt me now. The possibilities. Maybe you would have gotten along well with my family, when it was time for you to meet them. Maybe you would have been a good husband someday.

I know I don’t have the right to hold on to you, to the idea of us, when there was barely an us in the first place. Some nights, though, I pull out that mental picture and let myself live inside for it a little while. I still feel happy there. I wonder if you do, too.

Love, Penelope

****

“Ben!”

Penelope steadied herself by gripping Schneider’s arm, which also helped to steady him as they wobbled in the doorway after their near-collision.

She saw the letter Ben was holding, on yellow paper she remembered too well, and offered him an overly-bright smile, aiming it like a shield. “We’re actually just on our way out. Gotta go get dessert for the family before there’s chaos, y’know?”

Her laugh was as forced as her smile, but she ignored the look Schneider gave her and hoped Ben would buy it. He didn’t know her nearly as well; not everyone had Schneider’s keen eye for her tells. 

“This is Schneider,” she added, shutting the door behind the two of them. She kept her grip on his arm, pulling him past Ben. 

“Yeah, hi,” Schneider said, with a facial expression that could best be described as ‘trying to do calculus in his head.’ Great, Penelope thought, now she would have even more to explain to him once they made it free of the building. And Ben.

“Listen, I don’t want to hold you up,” her ex said, lifting the letter to her eyeline. “I just wanted you to know that I got it, but that I’m actually--well, I’m engaged now.”

“Oh, wow! That’s amazing! Congratulations,” she said, shaking his hand and trying to hurry along as though that would be the end of that.

“Penelope.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. I really enjoyed the time we spent together too. And I did think about you--about us. For a while. That was such a long time ago, though, and where my life is at these days...I’m really happy. I hope you will be soon.”

The hint of pity she detected got her attitude up, but if she made a scene it might bring the family out into the hall, which was the last thing she needed to add to this insanity. She exhaled through her clenched teeth instead.

“Thanks Ben, I appreciate that. I’m glad things are going well for you.”

“Anyway, I wanted to give you this back. It doesn’t feel right keeping it, while I’m planning my wedding to somebody else.”

“Alright. We really gotta go, but I hope the wedding goes great and it doesn’t rain. Best of luck to you both!” she half-shouted as she sped down the stairwell, not bothering to look behind her. Schneider would catch up, and she needed Ben to stop treating her like a crazy woman who was still nursing a crush on him years after they went on a handful of dates.

Not that her behavior in the hall was likely to make her seem more sane. 

Her cheeks were burning as she exited the building, and she wished the air outside were cool enough to settle her racing heart. There was no denying it now--all of her letters must have been sent, every single mortifying one of them. Her innermost thoughts and feelings, directed at men who were never supposed to read them. This was beyond terrible. This was a catastrophe. This was--

“Pen! Wait up!” Schneider let the exit door slam shut behind him, making short work of the distance between them on the way to her car. “You know, I can’t go with you to get ice cream if you leave without me.”

“I know. Sorry.”

The scoop shop was only a five minute drive from their building, but it was a deeply uncomfortable five minutes, with Schneider watching her from the passenger seat and Penelope stuck on the image of Ben and his pretty, sympathetic face handing her back old dreams on paper. 

She hoped he really was blissfully happy with his new fiancée. She hoped they had a long and happy marriage. 

She hoped she never had to see him again.

****

Schneider managed to hold back as they waited in line at the shop, but he was restless next to her, filled with anxiety and questions. Penelope wasn't exactly in a hurry to explain; her nerves mirrored his.

“Let’s just order ours, okay?” She said before they approached the counter. “We can talk while we eat it, then get the rest to go after.”

Schneider nodded. “Sure. Whatever you want.” He ordered an oversized monstrosity, filled with a jumble of flavors and toppings that Penelope eyed with suspicion. 

She got cherry gelato and frowned when he paid for them both, but didn’t bother arguing. She was the one who caused this whole mess--there wasn’t much point to starting a fight on top of it.

Schneider sat down across a corner table from her and made no move to touch his dessert. “Listen, Penelope, I’ve tried not to push. I kept quiet through dinner, I didn’t corner you in a moving vehicle, but I’m kinda out of patience now. What was that back there?”

“At...the hospital?”

It was stupid to try and buy herself more time. She wasn’t sure why she felt so nervous to talk to him--this was Schneider. He always understood even her craziest moments. Yet there she was, still stalling. Keep on digging that hole, Penelope.

“Yes, at the hospital, when you kissed me!” The last part came out louder than he’d intended, and Schneider looked around like they might be under surveillance, before continuing. 

“What was that about?” he pressed. “I thought that I was pretty clear about where I stood, and then you kissed me anyway. No means no, Penelope!”

“Yes...you’re right.” 

When he put it like that, she felt even worse than just embarrassed. If she found out Alex was going around kissing girls who told him they weren’t interested, she would be so pissed at him. She would read him the riot act. What could she possibly say to defend herself to the one man who understood that better than anybody-- who knew her behavior totally contradicted what she believed in?

“Sorry.” She watched her gelato melting in its little cup, swirling it with her spoon. “You’re right, there’s no excuse.”

“I don’t want an excuse--though the apology’s appreciated. I want an explanation. It doesn’t make any sense, what you did. And you always make sense. Come on, talk to me.”

“I don’t have a good explanation.” She sighed, trying her gelato before it was completely liquid. It didn’t taste as good as it would on a day when her life wasn’t unraveling. “It was out of character. No argument there. It just sort of happened.”

“But why?”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she warned him, resigned to the fact that she couldn’t avoid this forever. He practically lived in their pockets--she couldn’t avoid him in general.

“You just made out with me,” he shot back. “I already know you’re crazy.”

“It was one kiss! I did not make out with you.” She dug into her gelato more emphatically, letting him sit with his own melting dish for a minute, almost as annoyed at Schneider as she was at herself for ending up here. 

“That letter that you got from me, it wasn’t the only one I wrote.”

“Okay.” He blinked, taking that in. “You’re in love with people besides me?”

“I’m not in love with anybody, you dope. And I didn’t send you that letter.”

“I’m confused.”

“I write letters. I always have. To process stuff, get my thoughts out. I didn’t have therapy, you know, before the last few years. And between my mom, and the Army, and Victor...I had a lot of stuff to deal with. I’ve never been a diary person, but when things got really intense, I would write...”

“Love letters.” 

“Yeah.”

He nodded as he dug into his ice cream, listening intently now. Schneider was good at that, even when he was visibly baffled--like he seemed now. 

“I used to write other letters too, when I was a kid, letters to my parents when I was upset or frustrated with them. But I never held on to those ones--I had this feeling that no matter how well I hid them, Mami would find them, so I always trashed those. It helped enough, writing them.”

“When it comes to Lydia, I think your paranoia was probably well-founded.” 

There was a hint of a smile teasing the corners of his mouth now, fondness not just for her mom but for Penelope. The wave of relief that flooded her settled some of her anxiety. Kissing him had been dumb and desperate, but she didn’t want it to ruin their friendship. 

One kiss couldn’t do that, right?

He pointed his spoon at her gelato, a silent request. She nodded, passing him her spoon for a taste. She hadn’t really been in the mood for ice cream to begin with; she’d just wanted a place away from home for this confession.

“So, yeah, I write letters sometimes. Not all that often, because I was with Victor for most of my life. There haven’t been that many guys. But when I needed to put those feelings somewhere, I wrote them down and tucked them in my favorite duffel.”

She took her spoon back and gestured with it. “Over the years, I wrote five letters, including yours. And somehow they disappeared along with my duffel bag. The letters got sent out. I realized it when I saw you and Max.”

“And Ben,” Schneider added, putting the pieces together. “So, if that makes three, is the fourth Victor?”

“Oh, god.” She knew, of course she knew, exactly who she’d written her letters to. But she was so busy fighting the initial panic, she hadn’t thought about Victor yet. “Yes, I wrote to Victor. A couple of times. Ay dios mío, I hope that one gets shredded in the mail. I cannot deal with that right now.”

Schneider was lost in thought for a while, long enough that she took her cup to the trash. “Who’s the last one?” he asked when she sat back down. 

“Huh?”

“I’ve known you since you and Victor separated. After Victor, there was Ben, then Max, then I guess you wrote my letter, since it was after Lydia’s hospital stay. I can’t think of anybody else you dated. Did you have a secret lover?”

He looked intrigued by the possibility. She swatted him lightly on the arm. “Don’t be so dramatic. You sound like my mom. The other letter was my first big crush, back in high school, a boy named Joe.”

She reached for his spoon and Schneider let her, bemused. He knew she usually hated his topping combinations. She just needed a second to gather her nerve again. 

“I really am sorry,” she tried to explain, more carefully this time. “For kissing you like that. And for you ever seeing that letter. I was busy trying to figure out how it was possible, and then I saw Max coming, with a letter in his hand too, and I knew what it had to mean. I haven’t spoken to him since we broke up, my head was reeling--I couldn’t imagine explaining to him why he was getting a love letter from me a year later. I panicked.”

Risking a look at him before pinning her gaze back to the table, she continued. “It hit me that if he saw us kiss, he might assume we were a couple and be thrown off enough that I would have time to regroup. We could pretend the letters never happened.”

Schneider’s face was unreadable now. When she gave his spoon back, he didn’t go back to eating, just kept watching her.

“It’s not logical, I get that, but like I said, I panicked. And I know it was wrong of me to pull you into this, but I really would like to pretend the letters never happened, if we could. Especially yours.”

“Yeah?” 

She ran the risk of offending him--she was aware of that--but their friendship was too important for her not to fight for it. She couldn’t tell what Schneider was thinking, though. That same perfectly blank expression stayed in place. At least he hadn’t left the shop yet, Penelope reminded herself. He was still giving her a chance.

“Yes. I was in a terrible place when I wrote your letter, Schneider. It was a few months after Mami’s stroke, after giving up Max had me convinced I’d lost my chance at love, and I was so lonely and scared and sad. About all of that. 

“And there you were, so present and kind...and, well, loving. All the time. You were the one person I knew I could count on and we spent all those nights together. No matter how rough the day had been with the kids or at the hospital, you would find a way to make me laugh. Remember?”

“Of course.” His face was still guarded, but his voice had that comforting softness to it. That tone that meant he was ready to help. The voice of her best friend. 

“I was vulnerable then, and I wrote it all down, because it had to go somewhere. It took me a while to step back from that place, to get back to feeling stable on my own even when you weren’t around. And once I had that distance, that balance back, I could see clearly again. I was never in love with you, not really. I mixed up how much I care about you as part of my family, as my best friend, with love. I mixed up how good you were to me with the idea that we would be good together. 

“Once everything was okay again I felt like an idiot about it, and I was so glad I never said anything. I don’t want to lose you. And I never would’ve sent that letter as some attempt to awkwardly hit on you. I’m mortified to even be talking about it now. So, could we just move on? Like this was a weird day but we both agree it was a fluke and laugh it off?”

“Sure, sure, sure,” Schneider agreed, clearing his throat. “But what about the other letters?”

“What about them?”

“If Max’s letter is like mine, a love letter with no extra context, then are you going to have to do this all over again? Tell him you’re not still in love with him?”

“I-I don’t know. I’m really hoping it won’t come to that.”

“Because he saw us kiss and that’s a magic barrier to all future confrontation...or because you can’t honestly tell him that?”

He knew her too well, Penelope thought. And she’d had to share enough deep emotional truths for one day. 

“Wow, look at the time,” she said, standing and nodding toward to the front counter. “If we don’t get the rest of the treats and head back, they’re gonna think we lied about the whole dessert run.”

She put in the requests that she knew her Mami and Alex would want and moved down to the other end of the counter. Schneider followed, clearing his throat again. 

“What is it?”

“Speaking of lying, I just got a text from Nikki about our kiss.”

“What? How does Nikki know?”

“One of her friends saw us in the parking lot, I guess. Nikki’s super pissed.”

“Have fun with that.” She shook her head. “Luckily for me, I only have to see Nikki at school functions and some of Alex’s games. You’re the one who decided to hook up with her.”

“She’s pissed in a jealous way,” Schneider added thoughtfully.

“I’m shocked.”

“Hey, Pen. Hear me out: what if we kept up the lie for a while?”

“As in, the lie where I kissed you and you freaked out about it?”

“My freakout was in response to your freakout. Glass houses, Penelope. But yeah, the kissing. The public display of affection, emphasis on public. It got Nikki’s attention, and I wasn’t even trying to do that. If seeing me with you makes her realize she misses what we had, maybe we could stop this vicious cycle of breaking up all the time.” 

“You want to pretend to be into each other just so you can get back with Nikki? Gross. No way I’m volunteering to be used for that.”

“Hey, you used me first--and I didn’t volunteer.”

An aproned employee passed her the sack of ice cream and Penelope walked out ahead of him. 

“It would solve your problem too,” Schneider suggested. “Isn’t that why you kissed me in the first place, to make it seem like you were taken?”

“I was temporarily insane,” she insisted. “What’s your excuse?”

“I’m just saying we could both get what we want. Think about it,” Schneider added before mercifully dropping the subject as they made it home.

She ignored Schneider for the rest of the evening, as best she could, until he headed back to his own apartment. If her mom or Alex wondered what took them so long--or why they ate their dessert on the way--neither of them asked. 

****

Penelope was in her bedroom, finally able to take a moment to decompress from the chaos of her life, before it occurred to her to check her phone. She fought so hard to keep Alex off his at the dinner table; it helped a little when she set a good example. 

“Three missed calls,” she told her empty room, staring down at the name next to all three of them. 

“Yep, and you didn’t pick up even once.”

The day had clearly been too much for her, if her imagination was so easily manifesting Max there next to her bed. She closed her eyes for a moment and reopened them, only to find the illusion of him still watching her.

“You can’t call a guy back anymore? Especially after you ditch him in a public place? That’s not like you, Penelope.”

“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.” 

Okay, so she was hallucinating. Not a big deal. She was stressed out and had him on the brain, especially now.

“Got your letter,” Max said, smiling down at her where she sat. “Of course, you know that already. It’s why you’re avoiding me. How long do you think you can keep that up?”

“I have no idea. How long do you think you’ll keep trying to confront me with it?”

“Don’t ask me. I’m in your head--what do I know. If you want real answers, you should give me a call.”

“Can’t say I like that idea very much.”

“Yeah. If we talk, you’re going to have to answer my questions. Why did you send the letter, why did you write the letter, did you mean what you said.” 

She swallowed hard, staring into Max’s warm eyes. What would she say, when she had to explain it all to him?

“Do you still...love me. That’s the million dollar follow up, right? That’s the one that counts.”

“I’m not ready to explain any of it,” she admitted. “I’m not ready to tell you how I feel. I’m not sure I know, myself.”

“Then you know what you have to do,” Schneider told her, popping up in the dark space where Max had been standing moments before. “Get your cover story on, chica.”

“God, don’t call me that. Don’t call anybody that.”

“All I’m saying is, you can’t avoid Max forever, right? There’s a solution staring you right in the face. What are best friends for, if not to act as a human wall between you and your relationship issues?”

Penelope frowned, trying to find a counterargument. 

“Hey, if you’ve got a better idea, then go ahead...tell me no. A backup plan? Anything?”

“I’m thinking.”

“No, you’re stalling. And the clock is ticking on that strategy. But my plan, it can last as long as we need it to. Until you figure out what you want to do--with Max, Victor, all of them. We can be each other’s wingman and cover story at the same time, Pen. You help me, I help you...everybody wins.”

“Aaagh.” Penelope groaned, gripping hold of her hair for a second. When she lifted her head back up from her hands, she was alone in her room. 

She didn’t know if Schneider’s idea was a brilliant one, or a terrible one. But at this point, it might be her best chance to save her sanity.

That was reason enough to consider it.

[purplesurveys]

766

My dad is starting to gear me up for ~adult life~ and has made me start a Paypal, a social security number, and all that jazz and it’s making me immensely anxious, so expect more surveys than usual in the next few days lmao.

How frequently are you inclined to read, and how much? Not frequent at all. I’ll read only if I have to; and when it comes to reading for leisure, I’ll only reread books I’ve already read in the past. I find it sad considering how big of a bookworm I was as a kid. When was the last time you questioned the direction your life was taking? Right now, what with the Covid crisis. My life would have been mapped out ever so neatly if my life’s schedule went as expected - finish the sem, finish my thesis, graduate, travel for a bit, get a job. Now that that has been thrown out the window I essentially have to start from scratch and go into the world blind. And if you've been reading my surveys, you’ll know my least favorite thing to have to deal with is big change. Would you say that your personal views align with society's, generally? Not the society I have no choice but to be surrounded by, which is mostly Catholic, homophobic, sexist, and just very backwards in general. But when it comes to people I voluntarily choose to be with, like the friends I make and the people I follow on social media, I make sure their views are as liberal as mine so I don’t go completely crazy. ^ If not, in what ways do your opinions drastically differ? I just said it, but yeah Filipinos continue to be very resistant to more open-minded, modern views. Girls will still often be told to cover up, religions other than Christianity are viewed as wrong and of lower status, abortion is the most scandalous thing a woman could do, drug addicts must be handled with bullets and not rehab, etc. Basically everything you can roll your eyes over, that’s what Filipinos will tend to side with; and it’s very difficult to want to have your voice heard here because you will be ridiculed and thrown Bible verses instead of legit arguments. What small things have the ability to get under your skin? People who only start picking their orders once they’re the ones at the cashier, drivers who do have their turn signal on but will go THE OTHER DIRECTION, finding out there’s a car accident and I find out traffic has been building up only because drivers slow down to look at the crash site. The last one makes me especially mad every time it happens lol.

When was the last time you were caused to be upset with someone? I haven’t been upset with anyone in a while. If I’m upset these days, blame it on the weather. ^ Have you made up with that individual yet, or will you ever? I will never be ok with the summer climate over here. What is something small that has the ability to cure a bad mood? Hearing a favorite song on the radio as I’m driving, hitting all the green lights while driving, finding a parking spot near the mall entrance... man I really miss going out :(( What beverage is best capable of quenching your thirst? Water. What was the last big change through which you went? It hasn’t happened yet but I’ll be graduating and will officially be done with school forever in a few weeks. I mean, that’s the case unless I decide to take up a master’s but honestly the chances of that are super blurry as I’m over school at this point. ^ Do you deal well with change, typically? Have you always? I am honestly terrible at it and as much as I’m excited to get my first real job, I’m also scared to see how my adjustment pans out. I’ve had a pattern for not being able to adapt well to a new phase – I didn’t adjust in high school until my junior year, and I didn’t adjust in college until the latter half of my sophomore year. I really wish the trend doesn’t continue in the workplace because I can’t handle another mental slump. How do you feel after spending a great quantity of time online? I feel nothing? I mean I need the internet to do almost everything so it’s just become a part of daily routine; it’s normalized already. I would tend to feel some shame if I’ve been unproductive online when I could’ve been doing much more important stuff, but I’ve been avoiding that - I’ve been working on my thesis again, working on stuff for my org, participating in my other extracurriculars, etc. I feel relatively productive given the current circumstances. What do you consider to be the biggest drawback to being you? Like I said, I’m terrible with change. It takes forever for me to warm up to new conditions, and in that period I tend to feel very alone and miserable. I don’t know why I’ve never learned to just get out and make friends earlier. What do you consider the best part of being who you are? ^ Related to said drawback, once I have adjusted to the change, I do very well. I make lots of friends and am back to being my bubbly, social self. I just wish She could come out more easily. What kinds of things do you have on display in your room? Several Audrey Hepburn frames, a couple of paintings, and a poster of a Korean actor. What do you think your room and its contents say about you, if anything? I think more than anything you’ll see how my interests have shifted over the years haha. There’s tons of old WWE magazines, Paramore albums, Beyoncé albums and DVDs, crafty stuff like painting sets and coloring books, etc. When was the last time you felt insecure about something/some situation? Half hour ago when my dad was encouraging me to register for a bunch of grownup stuff. He doesn’t pester me a lot in small bits everyday (which I would really prefer); he’s more of a I’ll-dump-all-this-shit-on-you-in-one-go kind of person, which pressures me even more. I mean I’m excited for this new chapter but I wish he didn’t tell me to start a bank account and a Paypal and a social security number and a TIN all at the same time. What is something about which you are very confident or self-assured? I pride myself on being a good worker/co-worker. Do you ever stop to contemplate infinity? No. Are you comfortable amongst nature, or does the wilderness discomfit you? Sure, it makes me feel at peace. When was the last time someone or something caught you off guard? Andrew did a buuuunch of progress on our thesis this afternoon after a few days of passive-aggressively telling him that I’ve been doing all the work in the last week. How much time do you put into maintaining your appearance and hygiene? I don’t want to take a lot of time since I’m usually on a tight schedule but I do put enough effort to look and smell nice, if that makes sense. Like I wouldn’t take hours to do my makeup and put up an intricate hairdo, but I will still make sure I don’t exit the house looking shabby. Are there any foods you eat daily? . . . Or wish you could? I have rice and some sort of meat everyday. When was the last time someone new entered your life? Start of the semester when we had a new wave of applicants joining our org. ^ What was your first impression of that individual? They all seemed nice and fun to be around, and I’m glad their batch has had amazing chemistry from the get-go. But because of the lockdown I never got to know them all that well so I’m a little sad about it, since I’m already graduating. Do you put much thought into your handwriting? No? It’s not really something I can control anyway haha. What are some of the top priorities in your life right now? Ugh I’ve talked about this so much on here that it’s almost stupid because I take these surveys to begin with to distract myself from my current anxieties only for the surveys to ask about said anxieties ksksksks. Can I say pass for now? Lol In general, how do you feel about romantic relationships? They’re nice, and it feels good to have a person you can share everything to, be affectionate with, who supports you in everything, etc. I’ve been used to being in one for so long now I honestly can’t imagine being single. Which emotional sensation inconveniences or bothers you the most? As if I haven’t talked about it on this single survey enough, anxiety. Are you capable of consoling others in their grief? It depends on how bad is the thing they’re grieving and how accepting they are of help. I don’t know if I’m capable of talking to someone who has lost a parent, but I’ll be able to talk to a friend who’s going through a breakup. Do you ever find it awkward to compliment another being? No. I can give compliments, but I’m unable to take them. When was the last time you had a new experience? What was it? Earlier this afternoon when my dad made me make a Paypal hahaha. Skskss plz stop reminding me of scary things Do you dress more for yourself, or to the expectations of others? A little bit of both. I want to look nice, but I also make sure I keep up with the trends so others think I look nice. What kinds of things tend to stress you out? The stuff I’ve mentioned throughout this survey... What is one way you cope when you feel like crap? I watch videos, I eat whatever I’m craving, I talk about it with my girlfriend, I hug my dog... I have a lot of coping mechanisms.

Name an insult you regularly receive, if there is one? My mom tells me so many insults on a regular basis I can put each one of them in a spinning wheel and give you whatever comes out lol. Name a site that takes up a lot of your time? YouTube. What is something you used to believe about life that you no longer do? That money was easy to acquire. It was certainly so easy to fantasize about as a kid. What is a lesson you have recently learned? I don’t recall picking up anything new lately. Realizations, sure; but I’m not sure about lessons. Do you have a tendency to look on the morbid side of life? Sometimes. When was the last time you went shopping? What did you buy? A weekend before the quarantine. I bought a couple of new tops. When you shop for clothing, how long does it take you? 10-15 minutes tops. I just pick out whatever looks pretty. What is something fun you have done within the past week? It’s been a horrid week. I can’t answer this question. What is something you hope you never have to do again? Stay at home with nothing to do for this long. How does the rain affect your mood, if it does? It makes me feel happy and at peace.

[erinelezabeth920]

Love in the Time Of

Shame. Is the thing I want to talk about. Love in the time of shame.

I mean I don’t really want to talk about it. I’d really rather not actually, except that I have the sneaking suspicion that I’m not the only one. Not by a long shot. So here we go.  Last night I wanted to go to bed by 10pm, so I could get up early and go on a run BEFORE signing into Zoom at 7:45am to lead a yoga meditation class for my friends and family, BEFORE doing some reading of self-help books and solo meditation BEFORE I start trying to do an impossible job from my living room for an unclear number of hours per day with an attention span of basically zero to negative. 

When I write this it sounds absurd. I know that. But brains are weird. Especially mine. Remember the anxiety based overfunctioning/ underfunctioning I talked about last time? Overfunctioning much?  Anyway, that didn’t happen. We had finished a DnD session with my brother and college roommate, (my character is a rouge-gnome named Huckleberry Shake who has short purple hair, is really good at sneaking and lock picking, and carries a crossbow. I like to imagine a sort of cross between ‘Midsummer's Night Dream’ and Assassin’s Creed’.) Anyway, it was around 9:30 ish pm. It was also Cinco de Mayo, and we had picked up tacos from the neighborhood about a 15 minute drive south with a strong hispanic/ latinx population. The past couple weeks I’ve been referencing that line in ‘Wet Hot American Summer’ where they all pile into the pick up truck to go into town and go batshit crazy. “It always feels good to get away from camp, even for an hour!” Just to drive somewhere to pick up food feels like a crazy adventure these days. 

I made us magaritas when I got back; they were bright blue because we had some kind of blue liquor that I can’t remember the name of. After DnD I wanted to watch some TV. I made myself another margarita and some popcorn, which is my quarantine coping crutch. I watched this trashy but great Netflix show about teenagers in North Carolina called Outer Banks. Except the episodes kept ending on cliff hangers (OMG he KILLED HIM?), so I kept watching. I painted my toenails purple, using packing peanuts to space them out. I was kind of proud of myself actually.

It was about midnight when I went to bed. I woke up with a small headache, a result of tequila and salty popcorn and poor quality sleep. I was going to go on a walk/ run and listen to the news. I didn’t. I snoozed the alarm about ten times. It was raining out. I led my yoga class and ate some sourdough toast. And here we are. The light is filtering through the apartment windows, as I sit on the couch in my sweat pants. The crazy thing is, I just feel SO much shame. And guilt. Guilt for having a headache, shame for not waking up early to do all these things I honestly don’t even need to do. I feel shame for not writing more often, shame when I look at the dishes that are dirty. Shame when I don’t go outside to go on a walk, exercise, or when I close my work laptop early to lie on the couch and scroll through my phone.  I’ve been trying the past couple weeks to figure out this phenomena that seems to be happening to me, but also to other people I talk to. I feel okay for about 3 days, and then completely collapse. I just can’t do anything, flatline, but there doesn’t really seem to be a direct cause. It’s just like dropping on the roller coaster without warning. I was telling a friend the other day that on weekends, all I do is sleep. Usually I’m a very active person who has an almost clincally hard time sitting still. I haven’t felt like this, I told him, since I worked the hardest jobs in my life- full time wilderness therapy or residential treatment for children with Autism working 12 hour days. I work MAYBE six hours a day these days but probably more like four, broken up by lying on the couch watching documentaries and scrolling on my phone. So why am I SO DAMN EXHAUSTED? 

I did some research the other week into chronic stress for a newsletter article I was writing for parents of my elementary school. Chronic stress is different than acute stress, I found, because it has no concrete beginning and end. It’s not like a car crash or a loved one dying. Instead (for those of us with the intense privelage not to be on the front lines- god bless if you are) it’s a constant low hum in the background through news headlines, grocery store lines and crossing the street when another person is coming your direction on the sidewalk. It’s a disruption of normality with no conceivable ending, sending our brains into a low key 24/7 flight or fight mode, draining us with tiny doses of adrenaline and uncertainty that build up over time. It’s not in the forefront, but it’s there in our tight shoulders, exhaustion, inattention, insomnia, short fuses and total lack of motivation. Until we can’t take it any more and crash, seemingly out of nowhere. And then the whole thing starts again. 

As Brene Brown says, “We’ve hit our collective weary.” In one podcast episode she interviews a grief expert. He says, we are all grieving right now. Even if we don’t name it, we’re showing the symptoms. But instead of grieving the death of an individual (for most of us), we are grieving the lifestyles we’ve lost (work settings, close contact, friendships, normalcy). And grief exhausts us. BUT, because most of us aren’t experiencing acute grief (ie a loved one dying) we feel shame on TOP of that grief, that we shouldn’t be tired or inept when others have it SO much worse. It’s a meta emotion. Shame layered on grief like a terrible lasagna. How can we be justified in experiencing grief when all we do is sit on the couch and watch Netflix and eat snacks for hours a day? We’re not even in a wartime or something concrete that gives justification and purpose. Instead it’s just a vague, deep sense of disruption of life as we know it. But it’s just as real. I was walking on the beach at the time I listened to the podcast; when he said the words, “We are grieving the loss of the world as we knew it,” the sun was setting over the water. It hit me like a ton of bricks.

A few weeks ago, Andy cut my hair. When the pieces fell to the floor of our friend’s porch and the scissors snipped away larger chunks than I woud have liked, my stomach dropped. I started panicking. I felt like the world was ending. I don’t panic when I read the news, go to the grocery store in a mask, or even read the death toll. But when my hair fell to the ground around me in the gathering twilight, I absolutely lost it. I came home and sobbed. It was the first time I’d cried since the pandemic began, and it’s like it just all came out. I was so angry at Andy, and he felt so bad. I was a shell of a person for twelve hours. I cancelled morning yoga for the first time in six weeks, lamenting everyone would have look at me close up on a screen. I wanted to stay in bed forever, (until we fixed the haircut and it actually looked pretty good). But for a second there I was broken, and it was because of a goddamn haircut. I mean for Christ sakes, people are dying out there. It made me feel so petty and stupid. There’s a global pandemic happening, and I am distraught FROM MY HAIR?!

But that’s how grief works. We can’t look at the thing head on, it’s too much. A death toll is just numbers. Our brains seek to survive, to normalize, to adapt just to get through. So instead the trauma seeps into the corners, slowly creeping into our bodies and collective exhaustion until one little thing causes the world to come crashing down. The straw that breaks the camel’s back. And then we feel overwhelming shame for being so affected by something so little. For me, my lizard brain was honestly convinced I would never be attractive or happy again. 

(ALSO to be fair we watched, ‘Little Women’ a few days later. In the movie there’s the scene where Jo cuts all her hair off to give her mother money to travel to their sick father in the war. She’s then pictured crying under the stairwell. “Is it mother?” her sister asks. “No,” she says, “It’s MY HAIR!”. "See?!” I said to Andy.)

The underlying theme here is shame. We’re ashamed of our emotions because they don’t seem justified. Comparative suffering. My suffering isn’t nearly as bad as others, therefore I should not feel this way. I’m ashamed of myself for eating snacks and worried I’m going to gain a bunch of weight. Then I’m ashamed for being ashamed instead of being body positive. I’m ashamed of myself for enjoying an evening with drinks (yes plural), popcorn, painting my toes and watching teenagers who are actually in their twenties look for buried treasure. Honestly, it sounds like a great night. And it was. 

I just finished re-reading “The Four Agreements”, the Toltec wisdom book. The first agreement is “Be Impeccable With Your Word.” I assumed from the first time I read it, it meant “always tell the truth”. The reality though, is it means, our words have power. Especially our words about ourselves. Just this morning I entered my enchilada and margaritas from yesterday into my ‘Weight Watchers’ app and felt terrible. I told myself I was fat, lazy and useless. Which seems absurd when I write it out, but that’s the honest to goodness narrative inside my head. Being impeccable with our word means watching what we say to ourselves, because our words create a reality. We create our own cycles of shame. 

Even at this moment, typing this, I feel ashamed that this piece of writing is so scattered. My English major brain is mad at me. Get it together Erin. Find a cohesive theme and stick to it. Get emotional, but not too emotional. Tell stories, but not too many stories. But writing at it’s best is vulnerability and transparency;  and honestly right now it’s hard to hold on to any one thought for longer than a few seconds. And I’m pretty sure it’s not just me. Little pieces, scattered thoughts, just trying to put the puzzle together. (Oh and don’t even get me STARTED on puzzles... Andy is MUCH better than me at them, and, saving the face of our relationship, let’s just say that is another dangerous straw perched on the camel’s back through only the fault of my own...) Anyway, I think at this point, just find anything that makes you smile. Literally anything. I personally like Brad Leone’s Bon Appetite Youtube channel “It’s Alive.” He makes me laugh so much. The episode with him and Orville Peck making elote almost broke me.  Find those things, hold on to them and be kind to yourself. It’s okay to feel less than. Just remember you’re not. We’ve collectively hit weary, the point in the race where you’ve been running for so long, but the finish line is so far away. It’s okay just to go one step at a time. 

Paint your toes. Eat your popcorn. Drink your margaritas. Whatever we can do just to survive. One step at a time. You’re not alone. 

And that’s love in the time of. 

[fanfics4homoships]

Name Change Nerves (Part 1)

PART 1

So this is a Spideyson fanfic about him being biologically a Stark and coming out to the world, I hope you enjoy.

Peter is flamboyant and gay in this fic BTW.

It is such a small change when you really think about it, but this will affect Peters life forever. The problem is it isn't even anything that needs legal action, this has always been his name just nobody outside his family knew about it. You see, Peter has been known to the outside world as Peter Parker for his whole life. Everyone was under the illusion that his last name was Parker, that just is not the case. Peter Anthony Parker Stark is his legal birth given name, and that makes him the child to one of the richest and most influential people in America.  

He knows deep down that once this is out he will still be the same person, however, the idea that he could change his mind screaming at him in self-doubt and anxiety-ridden dreams. This is the secret worry he has been hiding from his family as soon as they told him when he turned 18, he would have to tell the world who he truly is. This isn't something they all want to do, if Peter could live his life out of the spotlight Tony would give anything to do that for his kid, but when that kid is inheriting a multi-billion dollar company and is the Queens vigilantly Spider-Man it is impossible to achieve.

Peter woke up at 6 am on Monday morning on his first day back at school, although he never wakes up early normally, Peter was excited because this was the year he was going to be himself fully. Peter stood up and turned off his alarm before making his bed again, he walked over to his ensuite bathroom to have a shower and facemask before getting dressed. As he stood in his walk-in wardrobe he picked out items to create his look, his Dad told him that since in a few months time it will be confirmed that he is a Stark he might as well dress, act, and look like one to spice things up in the media. Tony was very excited about the news talking about this new rich kid on the block and the speculations on their relations. So keeping that in mind Peter looked at himself in the body length mirror, he was wearing 6inch wedges in black with black skinny jeans. He has a Gucci belt and a science pun polo tucked in a french tuck, over the top he had a grey denim jacket over the top covered in patches on the back and on the front one that said "Gay-ish", he had a Sekonda black and navy blue watch on and a single piercing in his left lobe. He felt amazing, now to go to school and be self-conscious secretly all day. 

"Petey come down here and have your breakfast" he heard his Mom call from down the corridor.  He grabbed his pre-packed bag and walked out of his room and down the long hallway filled with half of his household family's rooms, stepping into the living room he smiled as he watched his crazy family getting ready for breakfast. Steve and Bucky had just gotten back from their morning run and now we’re sitting on the sofa with a bowl of cereal each, clint was sat in his nest (on top of the bookshelf in the corner of the room) he had a chocolate bar hanging out of his mouth and was cleaning his bow watching everything happening in the room. Sam and Pietro were sat on the sofa by the windows chatting and eating popcorn, Thor had been rummaging through cupboards looking for his pop tarts and Loki was seen putting 5 boxes of pop tarts under the sofa. Natasha and Wanda were having a long discussion with Bruce on the island waiting for their breakfast to be ready, Tony and Pepper were stood together over the hob making sausage, bacon and eggs for the people who wanted it. Peter was smiling widely to himself, he loves seeing his family together like this, especially since it wasn’t an everyday occurrence. 

“Hi everyone!” Peter beamed, he waved to everyone as he placed his backpack next to the lift for when he leaves. He walked over to the island and pulled out his chair sitting down. Tony turned around with a pan full of bacon and placed a lot onto the plate in front of Peter.

“Hey Kid, what car do you want to take to school today. You’ve got the entire garage as an option from now on.” Tony asked Peter turning to the other to place the rest of the bacon on the respective plates. Pepper was doing the same with the eggs and sausages smiling at her husband and son decided which car they were taking.

“I saw you have the Lamborghini Veneno in the back that you haven’t used much, do you think we could take that? It is really cool!” Peter smiles at his father continuing to eat his meal.

“Sure thing kid, I’ll drive you in today.” Tony ruffles Peters’s hair and went back to his food. Today was going to be full of changes and people staring so they might as well have some fun with it.

Time Skip To When They Are Pulling Up To School

Also, this is the car they are in if you want to know.



As Tony got closer and closer to the school grounds Peters confidence was slowly deteriorating, this morning he had told himself that he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks but now he is almost there, he just wants to curl up in a ball and hide from the world. This shift in mood was noticed straight away by Tony, Peter had stopped ranting about nothingness and was staring out the window only talking to respond to a question.

“Hey Peter, you’re going to be fine, you know that right? Ted and MJ will be there with you and I’m just one button away. It’s fine to be nervous, hell I’d be more worried if you weren’t.” Tony’s voice was soothing but also playfully joked to try and lighten his son’s spirits, he placed a hand on Peters’s knee squeezing slightly before taking it way to continue driving. 

“Thanks, dad. I know I’ll be fine I’m just nervous, I promise to call you if anything happens.” He turned towards Tony smiling and reached down to grab his backpack from next to his feet, they were just turning into the car parking area outside the front gates, Tony insisted earlier to drop him off right outside because as he puts it, “You might break your ankles wearing those shoes.” As they pulled up everyone around them turned to look at the expensive and unknown car, many even had taken their phone out to record and take photos. Luckily the windows were heavily tinted so nobody will be able to see or recognise Tony, Peter turned and gave his dad a big hug and said bye and that he loved him before opening up the passenger side door and stepping out.

When Peter got out he made sure not to look at anyone right away, he turned around and gave a small wave to Tony and shut the door waiting for him to drive off. Once Tony left he saw how many people were watching him, he stood up straight and kept his head up. Some advice Natasha came to mind and when he turned around to go inside he decided to follow it and it worked, Natasha told him if he is ever feeling nervous but all eyes are on him and he wants to look strong to think about killing or hurting the person you want to keep your head straight and don’t make eye contact. This makes everyone separate and not get in your way and makes you look very confident in yourself even if your not. So as Peter walked past everyone he thought about every single criminal he has stopped and the ones he will and strutted down the corridor, everyone was staring at him but he was too focused to care. He walked over to where his locker was and saw Ned standing there waiting for him, his face softened intently at the sight of his best friend. Once they got close enough to each other they started doing their handshake as normal.

“Hey, Ned! How have you been?” Peter said while opening up his locker to sort out his things for the day. Ned told him all about the holiday he had been on and the new lego set he was given, Peter loved to hear his friend talk about his life. Although the two had been best friends for years Peter was never able to talk fully about his family and was never allowed to take his friend around his, this was because Ned was terrible at keeping secrets and his safety previously had relied upon secrecy. Ned understood because he knew one day he would be told for now he just fantasised about the possible awesomeness of Peter's life. Before school started he had messaged Ned telling him today he would find out the secrets of his life, he promised he’d explain everything at lunch. Ned was talking about that now, his theories were ridiculous which amused Peter but what was the funniest thing was that Ned hadn’t even noticed his expensive clothing and some obvious giveaways such as the not released Stark Phone he held out in his hand.

The pair were walking towards their first lesson, it was chemistry together with Mr Cobbwell, they were meeting up with MJ in class beforehand. She already knew Peters secret having found out in her own way, luckily she kept it a secret and they had become even closer than before, they had even agreed to be each others wingman/woman. When they walked into class they greeted their teacher and went to sit next to MJ who was currently reading a book called ‘Surrounded By Idiots’ very fitting.

“Sup losers.” MJ put her bookmark in and turned to see her two friends. Peter sat next to her and Ned was across the table to them both, they were talking about pleasant nonsense as the class started to fill up. They stopped talking when Mr Cobbwell told everyone to be quiet for the register, this was the moment Peter had been dreading. On the school system, his name has been changed back to saying Stark and since there is also a Peter Andrews in this class Mr Cobbwell insists on saying both their first and last names. 

Peter sat nervously bouncing his leg viciously, Ned was giving him a strange look and MJ was trying to calm him down since she had already guessed what was about to happen. Mr Cobbwell was saying the names off the register and had just finished the P section, Ned noticed this and looked over at the teacher and back to Peter. Peter looked at him and smiles slightly whispering a simple “Wait for it.” this made Ned very excited.

“Amy Sitlock, Louise Sopper, Jake Sopper, oh is this correct?” Mr Cobbwell read off the names on the register stopping at Peter, Peter nodded his head shyly at his teacher and sat there in anticipation. This was the moment everyone was going to find out.

“Peter Stark.”

There were a few seconds of silence when he said those two words then an uproar of questions arose from the class all directed at Peter and only a few to Mr Cobbwell mainly checking that they heard him right. Ned looked like a deer in headlights for a few minutes before he jumped out of his seat and ran to hug Peter as hard as he could.

“Oh my, Thor! Oh my, Thor! I can’t believe this! You’re Mr Starks kid! I’m best friends with Iron Man's son!” Ned shouted not letting go of Peter until he finished and didn’t stop jumping up and down until the teacher told him to get back into his chair and for the class to quiet down so he could finish the register.

“Everyone Quiet!” his voice echoed throughout the room, he could be very serious if he needed to be. “ I’m sure you have lots of questions, however, it is up to Peter if he wishes to answer any and I expect you to respect his decision whatever it may be. I need to finish the register and then you can ask a few questions, only if that is okay with you Peter.” The class went silent looking at Peter in anticipation, they hoped he’d let them ask their questions now.

Peter sat up in sit properly now there were lots of eyes on him, he thought his answer for a second before deciding to let them question him. He didn’t want to get too swarmed at break and lunch today.

“You can ask questions but some answers might classified information so I’ll just say classified if that is the case and you can’t question further on that. If that okay?”

There was a chorus of agreements before it went silent again for the register, this was going to be a long day.

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