#if you are so blissful that you have not mentally thought a few steps ahead when you are out and about

[askshivanulegacy]

The thing that gets me about almost everything on this post: both the original paranoia and unreasonably obsessive position about "you have to be a COMMUNITY" (which is somehow the answer to everything on Tumblr) is that it's all extremely unhelpful.

When you live alone, you have to consider the possibility of things like a home break in and how you would realistically respond. What works, what doesn't. What would YOU do. What CAN you do, for yourself. What are you WILLING to do. If you haven't done that, then you are simply unprepared.

It's a scary thing, and the fear is real. You don't let yourself obsess over it, ofc, but you also don't act like an entitled know-it-all and dismiss someone's concerns like that. You offer real solutions. You plan a practical response, just like you would for any other contingency. Do you have a fire escape plan? Do you have an emergency kit? Do you have a tornado shelter? You can have an invasion defense plan too.

Most of these commenters rage about what's bad, but not what's realistically helpful. They also manufacture imaginary arguments to rage about, which are not the topic of the post.

Community doesn't do squat in a home invasion scenario (but interestingly, the whistle everyone hates is exactly reaching for community). Neither does not being afraid to walk down a street. This woman isn't isolating herself. She's creating barriers to intrusion and deterrents.

Alarms and loud noises are good (she set up an alarm). Cameras are good. Closing/locking windows are basic, of course you do that. The only real thing that would work against her here are those extra door locks. That's literally it. Why is Tumblr crying about everything else?

The one thing that isn't addressed, which is the real fallback to everything else, is what do you personally do if something happens. Do you have an escape plan? If you can't escape, what do you do? Ultimately, that's this woman's fear and you notice that everything else is an attempt to ultimately avoid ever getting there. But you cannot be at peace if you do not figure that part out. And it requires really knowing yourself and committing, in advance, to the actions available to you so that you do not delay when it's too late for choices.

Will you scream? Will you call someone? CAN you? Will you hide? Will you fight? Will you kill?

Tumblr will laugh like a juvenile, but again: if you're responsible enough to plan for emergencies, this is just another planning exercise.

[seongclb]

LIKE A MAGNET ! sim jaeyun

“you’ve called me a lot of things, sim jaeyun, but never have you called me a magnet.”

“not like that! i just meant, we’re not as alike as we think. kinda like a magnet..”

SYNOPSIS. whereby your academic rival, jake sim, returns after spending a year in australia to come back and restore his place: as top physics student but also your (hopefully) boyfriend.

PAIRING. academic rivals to lovers, slight enemies to lovers, flirty!jake x fmr

GENRE. fluff, light angst.

WARNINGS. cursing, jake being flirty, kissing but not making out.

WORD COUNT. 7512 words

N. finally out yelp i think this is not as good as i wanted it to be but i have to post as promised so pls make sure to give feedback and stuff !! special thanks to mari for beta reading :) i love u pooks

TAGLIST. @sjyuns <3… @dollkis @taejaysmain @dear-hoon @oldjws @jjakey02 @luvistqrzzz @yizhoutv @mrchweeee @darly6n @hoonieluv @ghostiiess @jaeyunsonlyone @en-happiness @loumin908 @tasnim10 @rikisly @samyu01 @ashrocker123 @enhastolemyheart @enhaz1 @viagumi @articxari @vnsux @mersmoon @jungwonderz

Kicking your shoes off, you step into your house as your mother frantically scours the house for her expensive china plates.

“Mum, what’s going on?” You wonder, looking around at the house and noticing how all your awards and family photos are out. You groaned, this only meant one thing - guests were coming today.

Great, you thought. After a tiring day with your best friends driving you mentally and physically insane, you now had to entertain guests in your own house when all you wanted to do was lay in the comforts of your bed.

“The Sims are back from Australia,” your Mum announces while pushing you up the stairs.

You pause as your heart plummets down your stomach, “What do you mean?”

Your mum chuckles, “The Sims! Don’t tell me you forgot about them already. It’s only been a year.”

“Mother, this has been the best year of my life. Why are they back? Wasn’t Mr Sim, like, settled in his new job? Why are they coming here of all places, too?”

Your mum narrows her eyes at you as your father steps into the room, struggling with his tie, “Ah, Y/n you’re home! You’d better go up and get dressed. The Sims are arriving soon.”

“So, I’ve heard,” you huff. “I know we’re family friends but shouldn’t they settle in their house first? Why are they coming here already?”

“Because,” your dad sighs. “Mr Sim and I have secured a business deal. We’re going to be partners in the firm soon, which is why they’re back. Of course, we have to welcome them with a nice meal.”

You groan and cross your arms, “Isn’t this something you discuss with your daughter first?”

Laughing, your dad pinches your cheek sweetly, “Now, why would this concern you? Go upstairs and get dressed, you must be hungry after practice today.”

It takes every fibre in your being to not stomp up the stairs in defiance. Sim Jaeyun, the cause of your distress throughout your entire school whole life was returning after a blissful year of peace. The mere thought of it made you want to rip every strand of hair out of your head.

Stepping into your room, your eyes immediately set on the expensive dress sitting on your bed that your mum laid out for you. Just as your parents requested, you hopped into the shower to prepare for the dreadful evening ahead. It’s not like you weren’t used to this; your parents worked in especially high fields and earned decent salaries. It was more than normal for them to have these important, yet over the top, dinners every few months meaning you had to dress up like this often. The only issue was him.

You could already hear his irritating giggles from your bedroom. Amazingly, they were the same as you had remembered.

Before you could even take a deep breath, there were soft knocks at your door, “Mum, I’m coming. Thirty seconds.”

There were the knocks again. Rolling your eyes, you swung your door open, ready to ask your mother why she couldn’t wait for thirty seconds, when you saw him leaning on the archway of the door. His lips were curled into that familiar smirk of his, yet Jake looked so different. His hair was much shorter, slicked back slightly but a strand of it falling onto his forehead.

It had only been a year, yet you were more than surprised to see Sim Jaeyun actually looking semi decent.

His eyes are playful as they rake over your figure, checking you out head to toe. The feeling of Jake’s eyes boring into you evoked a sense of insecurity to wash over. Since when did you care about him looking at you?

“Hurry up,” he ruffles your hair as he runs down the stairs. Forgetting about the annoying action he had just done, you pause for a moment; his words replaying in your mind. It seemed that Jake’s looks weren’t the only thing that was different but he had developed a strong Australian accent, too. It wasn’t attractive, though.

No, of course, not. That was impossible, being Jake Sim.

You fix your hair before following him into the living room where his parents are sitting on the couch in your living room.

Mrs Sim smiles at you as you greet her, “Y/n! You’ve grown so much.”

She engulfs you in a tight hug as you giggle, “No, I look the same. You look better than ever, of course.”

She shakes her head as she makes room for you on the couch, “Nonsense, you’ve gotten even prettier just like Jaeyun. He’s gotten so handsome now, right?”

You nod, sending an obvious fake smile towards his direction.

Jake clears his throat as he brings his glass of water to his lips, “Y/n, have you grown any taller since last year?”

You force a polite chuckle, despite wanting to throw your glass at the smile on his lips, “Maybe a few inches.”

Jake nods, pursing his lips to prevent a wider smile from breaking out, “I see.”

He sits opposite you at the dinner table, sending you winks every so often just to get a sneaky middle finger or a dirty look in return when no one was looking.

“Y/n, you’ll have to show Jaeyun around tomorrow,” Your dad says to you.

“I’m sure he knows where everythings been. It’s only been a year,” You smile.

Jake leans over, “I heard there were some changes. I’m afraid I might get late to some of my classes.”

You turn to Jake, “Oh, really? Who said that?”

“Sunghoon,” Jake smirks back at you.

You nod, of course he did. Sunghoon was the little provoker in your feud with Jake; always meddling to give Jake new ideas on how to annoy you. That was clearly one of his duties as Jake’s best friend since he had just given Jake another reason to irk you and follow you around tomorrow.

“So, why can’t he show you around?” You narrow your eyes.

Before Jake can answer, your dad interjects, “It’ll be better for you to do it, Y/n. I’m sure Sunghoon will have practice and other things tomorrow.”

The little shit was smiling way too hard, again. He just gets lucky too often.

The talk quickly turns into business amongst your parents, boring you completely so you use it as a perfect opportunity to excuse yourself to your room until your Mum says, “Why don’t you take Jaeyun to your room?”

Jake’s eyes grow as he smiles mischievously, “Yeah, you can show me what topics you have been covering in Physics. I don’t want to be behind.”

You take another deep breath, it got to the point where every breath now was slow and used to calm you down in order to stop you from lunging at the boy in front of you. He used every opportunity to get you to agree to yet another thing to help him with while your parents were around.

Jake followed you up to your room, standing at the doorway for a moment to look around your room at a different angle before stepping in and tracing his finger over all your trophies and pictures.

“Hey!” He calls, pointing at a particular picture of you with a trophy after winning the Science Fair competition. “We did this together, I’m in this photo. Did you crop me out?”

That day was quite fun, one of the only times that you and Jake had worked together rather than against one another, which was the usual dynamic. That occasion, your father had suggested for you two to work together. Even back then, it had created such dismay for you but you couldn’t deny that he was the reason why you two had won. You didn’t work well under pressured environments, so Jake had picked up the slack and presented most of it but you doubted that he did it for the sake of you. He definitely did it for the mere reason that he wanted to win.

You scoff at the pout on his lips as he picks up the frame, “Obviously. I’d get nightmares with a picture of you in my room.”

Jake touches the picture, a sigh of relief leaving his lips, “You didn’t cut it. You folded it.”

He dismantles the frame, unfolding the picture to reveal a younger version of him, “I was handsome back then, too. Keep it unfolded, you can use it for motivation.”

Fake gagging, you snatch the frame back from him and set it down, “I don’t need motivation. “So, how was Australia?”

Jake shrugs, playing with the Miffy plush that you cuddle to bed every night, “It was fun. Different from here. Better girls.”

You roll your eyes and respond sarcastically, “Sounds wonderful.”

“Jealous? Don’t worry, they didn’t compare to you,” Jake flirts.

“Ew!” Your face contorts in disgust. “Don’t make me throw you out of here, Jaeyun.”

He giggles and goes back to nosily touching all your things. You watch him in silence for a few more minutes, not minding Jake exploring your room. Jake’s parents call him from downstairs, initiating that it was time for him to finally leave.

“This new business deal means I’ll be seeing you more often than you’d like, angel.”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his briefly upon hearing the pet name before he leaves the room. He’s staring at you, searching for a response in your facial expressions but all you can focus on is the luring brown specks in his eyes. The Australian air must have done a number on him; this was not the SIm Jaeyun you knew. Of course, he still used to go out of his way to annoy you before, but the excessive winking and flirting was so unlike him. It was only until you heard him call you ‘angel’ that you realised how different Jake was, now.

You returned down the stairs to bid them goodbye.

“Y/n,” Jake’s father calls. “Jake and I will be here tomorrow morning to pick you up for school. We must repay the favour.”

“What favour?” You question.

Jake’s mother strokes your arm lovingly, and you wonder how a woman so kind can produce that devil staring at you by the door, “We’re so thankful that you’re tutoring Jake every weekend!”

You raise an eyebrow and look at your parents, who suspiciously are avoiding your eyes, “It’s no problem. Is this why Mr Sim is picking me up tomorrow?”

They nod and hug you goodbye, constantly reminding you of their appreciation.

With one last annoyed look towards your parents, you turn on your feet and head up to your room for the night to scream into your pillow about the return of Sim Jaeyun.

୨ৎ

The next morning, at the table while you wait for Jake and his father, you see your own come down the stairs to get ready for his own job.

“Y/n, you and Jake have to go to school alone. Mr Sim sends his apologies, he has a meeting,” Your dad informs you.

You groan softly at the light knocks on the door, knowing it was Sim Jaeyun. “That must be him,” your dad smiles as he opens the door. “Hi, Jaeyun.”

“Good morning, Mr Lee. Is Y/n ready?” Jake asks as he steps into the house and meets your annoyed eyes. Slinging your bag over your shoulder and walking towards Jake, you say bye to your father and leave the house with him.

“Why did your dad want us to go to school so early?” You huff. Jake smiles down at you, “So we could go get breakfast.”

He flicks his dads bank card in between his fingers, “Wanted me to thank you for that tutor thing. Did you know about that, by the way?”

You shake your head, “Mum and Dad probably knew I would refuse. Did you?”

You look up at him and see he shakes his head, with a proud grin on his face, “Mum and Dad probably knew I would refuse, too.”

You stop and cross your arms at him, “Why would you refuse? I’m the top of the class, you should be honoured.”

Jake snickers, “You’re top of the class because I was in Australia for a year.”

He ruffles your hair before walking off, leaving you to curse at him under your breath.

With a croissant and a coffee in each of your hands, you walk through the school gates with Jake. As expected, all eyes are on him. Everyone knew him; you remembered the way everyone was heartbroken when he announced that he was leaving last year. Apart from you. You were busy bouncing off the walls to celebrate his departure as now, there was no debate about who the top physics student was. You knew it sounded condescending and extremely nerdy, but you worked hard for your grades; the title was deserved.

“I have to go to the principal's office,” Jake tells you.

“Go then,” You shrug. Jake tuts and drags you to the principal's office with him.

You fight off his grip on you, “I thought you didn’t know where anything was.”

Jake rolls his eyes, “Shut up and wait here. We have class together next, anyway.”

Just as you’re about to argue back, you realise that you do in fact have Physics next. Of course, he was in your class.

You sit and eat the breakfast that he bought you while you wait. Not long after, he exits the principal's office with a few books in his fingers.

“What are those?” You ask as you try to reach over and read them, only to have them held over your head and out of your reach.

“Don’t be so nosy,” Jake tuts. “Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”

You frown and follow him swiftly.

Jake opens the class door, and all eyes are set on him once again. Your Physics teacher calls him to the front while you rush to your seat at the back, away from all the gazes fixed on him.

Thanking God that your first lesson after the dreadful weekend was Physics was a waste since Jake was momentarily ordered to sit beside you.

“Is there a problem, Y/n?” Your teacher asks following your noises of protest.

You shake your head, not that it mattered to Jake who was already sitting in the seat beside you.

“Thankfully, I got placed next to my tutor. What would I do without you?” Jake drawls with a soft smile on his lips.

“Shut it, Sim,” you groan, snatching your things to your side of the table. “My side. Your side.”

Jake watches you pull out a thin ribbon and place it in the middle of the table.

Towards the end of the lesson, you’re assigned individual worksheet tasks that Jake gets done with smoothly. Unlike you, who is struggling slightly.

It’s not that the work is difficult to understand, but you’ve never been that close to Jake to see his hands. Despite your many attempts to focus on your work, your gaze is teared away from the Physics equations on your sheet and replaced with the sight of Jake’s hands only inches away from your own. In order to control your impulsive thoughts, you have to focus your full attention towards not touching his hands which is driving you absolutely insane.

Jake looks over his shoulder at your sheet, eyes widening slightly, “How are you still on the first question?”

Jolting slightly, you scramble to pick up your pen and mumble sometimes about getting distracted.

Jake bites his lip to prevent a giggle from escaping, “If you need help, you can ask me.”

“I don’t need your help,” You respond and commence with the work.

The bells to announce the end of the lesson go off soon after and you sigh in relief, packing your things instantly in order to get away from that nightmare sitting beside you.

Jake watches you pack up as if he was waiting to say something until Park Sunghoon and Jay Park run into the classroom.

“Jake!” Sunghoon smiles widely, Jay following shortly.

Jake grins, “I didn’t see you two this morning.”

“We had to meet up with the football (soccer) team before school. Join us after school today?” Jay asks.

Jake shakes his head, “Can’t. I have to study with my tutor.”

You dart your eyes over to him, “Not today.”

Sunghoon and Jay break out into fits of laughter.“No way, Y/n has to tutor you. That’s so unfortunate, Y/n,” Jay says to you, and you nod with a frown.

Jake furrows his eyebrows, “What’s so bad about tutoring me?”

“Dude, you don’t even need a tutor. Y/n, I’ve been asking you to tutor me for months now,” Sunghoon follows you around your desk.

“I didn’t have a choice!” You remark. “Our parents arranged it behind our backs.”

Sunghoon smiles, “What? Like an arranged marriage?”

“Ew!” You both said in unison.

Clearing your throat, you look at Jake again, “I’m not tutoring you today. They said weekends. “

You grab your bag and leave the room, rushing to find your best friends. Minji and Jieun are sitting at the usual bench near the football field, snacks laid in their laps as they discuss the precious lesson when you rush towards them.

Their attention immediately turns to you and Minji asks, “Y/n, is it true that Jake’s back?”

You huff and nod, “You’ll never believe it.” And, with that, you start filling them in on all the events that have occurred in far little time that you’d like.

They listen intently as you tell them every single detail since yesterday.

Jieun gasps, “How has this all happened in less than 24 hours?”

You shrug and steal a biscuit from her lap, “Honestly, I’m wondering the same thing. I didn’t even know he would be back 24 hours ago.”

Minji leans forward, “Shit, don’t look. Shit, shit, shit.”

Despite Minji’s request, Jieun turns her head with a car and gasps, too.

“What?” You ask, impatiently, wanting nothing more than to see what they were so intrigued about.

“Jake’s in a football shirt,” Jieun claps her hands together and you roll your eyes, although you turn your head ever so slightly to get a look. You don’t see Jake anywhere.

“Where?” You ask, now looking more closely.

Jieun and Minji giggle beside you and you close your eyes in anger after sudden realisation, “He’s not there, is he?”

“Nope,” Minji chuckles. You lightly shove her with your arm as she continues, “So, Y/n. A crush on Jake, huh?”

“Impossible!” you argue. “I was just looking because you guys were so shocked.”

You cross your arms and stuff your mouth with snacks as your friends stare at you in disbelief, “I do not like Sim Jaeyun.”

୨ৎ

Taking tests were usually anxiety inducing, but with your rival back, it was even worse than usual. Jake helped you separate the table into individual seats for the test, watching the way your fingers drummed on the table; a habit to get rid of the nerves.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it easy on you, angel,” He whispers, leaning so close to your ear that you can feel his breath fanning onto your cheek.

“Ugh,” You shove him away. “Are you trying to make me vomit before the test so I can miss it and fail?”

Jake sneers, “As if I need to do something like that. I’ll get higher than you regardless.

“We’ll see about that Aussie boy.”

Jake's eyebrows raise upon the new nickname, his eyes gleaming as he watches you take the test paper into your hand and write your name before starting it. Jake leans back in his chair, twirling his pencil in his fingers before he too starts the test.

The school bells go off, signalling both the end of the school day and the test.

Jake stands behind you as you hand in your paper and exit the classroom.

He taps your shoulder, “Did you finish all the questions?”

You nod, “Yeah, did you?”

“Yeah, but I don't think I did that well. I guess it's good that I’ve got myself a tutor, huh?” Jake giggles beside you.

You almost laugh, instead concealing it with a roll of your eyes, “Lucky you.”

“Be ready for one, tomorrow,” Jake ruffles your hair, earning a smack on the arm from you, which he fake winces at. “You coming to the football game next Monday?”

“No,” You guffaw and watch Jake slip his hands into his pockets.

“Hm, I thought you were. A little birdie told me you were,” Jake shoves his phone into your face, revealing messages from your mother telling him that you would go.

Angrily, you twist Jake’s ear and he yelps, “Ow??? What was that for?”

“Many reasons,” You cross your arms. “You messaged my mum to get me to go to your stupid football game! Why do you even have my mothers number?”

Jake rubs his now pink ear, “She told me to take it for the tutoring sessions since you said no to giving yours. Plus, is it so bad that you’re coming? Your friends are there every day.”

“Yeah, to see the boys they like,” You shrug.

“There’s no one you want to watch play?” Jake asks, slipping his hands back into his pockets.

“I have no interest in watching anyone play.”

Jake hums again, turning his face to the side before clearing his throat, “That’s because no one wants you to watch them.”

You glare at him, “Then, why did you ask my mother to force me to go?”

Scorning, Jake responds, “I didn’t force her. I just mentioned it and she said to make sure you go. Why would I want you there?”

At his words, you feel your heart gain a few bruises but you play it off, “I’m not going.”

“Shut up, Lee. I’ll pick you up at 5 on Monday. Games at 6,” With that, Jake walks off to join his friends. You grab your phone and message your group chat with your friends.

You: It looks like I'm attending my first school football game next week.

Minji: You wanna tell me this isn't because of the Sim boy?

Jieun: LMFAO FR.

You: Dude messaged my mother to get me to go.

Jieun: No fucking way

Minji: Yeah, so when's the wedding?

You: shut up, we don’t like each other.

Minji: 🙄

Jieun: keep telling yourself that. Want us to pick you up?

You: no… he’s picking me up

Minji: act surprised!

Jieun: Suit yourself, I am surprised!

Usually, the weekends are more than enjoyable; being that you can sleep in bed for a few hours longer than usual without feeling like you're rotting away as you’re still up before noon which automatically means you're being productive. This weekend was different; just like every day has been since Jake has arrived back.

This was now yet another time that he’s randomly been in your house as if he lives there, and waiting for you to join him.

“You’re late,” He says, taking a bite of an apple.

“I forgot,” You respond and sit down at the table with your textbooks.

Jake sits beside you, smiling at your pyjamas, “Why are all of them so childish?”

You frown, “They’re not childish. Anyway, focus!”

Tutoring Jake reveals to be harder than you thought. He either gets distracted every few minutes with an odd would you rather question that he needs to hear your response to or he’s bragging about how he doesn’t need these tutoring sessions, and could easily beat you in the upcoming exam.

Two hours fly by ever so slowly, and you’re silently thanking God that it’s over when the time comes.

Slamming your books shut, you spring to your feet with a wide smile plastered over your lips “Well, it’s been lovely but, that’s me done. Goodbye!”

Jake snickers as he watches you disappear up the stairs in a hurry, “See you on Monday!”

Monday flies by faster than you realise, you think as you sit in Physics next to Jake with your head resting in your palm. Monday was always such a mission to get through, but it didn’t help that you had a particularly late night.

“Tired?” Jake asks, sliding over your favourite bottled coffee. Your eyes light up upon seeing it as you accept it with a slightly enthusiastic nod.

“Extremely, staying up watching ‘Criminal Minds' is not a good idea,” You advise before taking a happy swig of the coffee.

Jake laughs, “Thanks for the warning. You’re coming to the game, by the way.”

You roll your eyes, “Is that why you got me a drink?”

Jake hums, “Why else would I do something nice for you?”

You scowl and hand him the coffee back, only for it to be slided back towards you with a disgusted expression on his, “I don’t want it! You already put your mouth on it.”

You sigh, and put it back in your bag, “Asshole.”

“Idiot,” He remarks.

You flick your eyes up and notice the teacher handing out the test papers from the last lesson, “We’ll see who the idiot is.”

The teacher places both yours and Jake's papers down with a smile.

You read the 97 on your paper, tilting it nervously to reveal to him as you wait for his mark.

“96,” He huffs, setting the paper down with a disappointed frown.

You clap your hands together with a wide grin, “I knew it! Sim Jaeyun, you fell off!”

You tease him consistently, singing celebrations in his ear as he places the paper in his bag, smiling at the 98 written on his sheet that he would much rather keep hidden for the sake of you singing gleefully beside him.

Jake swears he’s never seen you so happy; it's almost impossible to keep his smile under control as he watches you in slight fear that the adoration he has for you is emanating more than he would like.

୨ৎ

Your exciting plans to nap immediately after school were destroyed when you heard knocks on the door at exactly four minutes to five pm.

You answer softly, “Come in.”

Expecting one of your parents to walk in, you don’t bother to try and fix your hair or anything so when Jake walks in, you hurry to cover your snoopy pyjamas with your blanket, but judging by the way he snickers, you can tell he’s already seen it.

Jake stands in front of your wardrobe, “Say, Michael B Jordan came into your room and opened your wardrobe. Would there be anything you’d be too shy to show him?”

“No,” You reply, confused. Jake swinging your wardrobe doors open and grabbing a sweater before throwing it at you and walking out of the room was the last thing you had expected. Not to mention that he compared himself to Michael B Jordan, as if you’d care if he had seen your undergarments. Jake, however…

“Ten minutes!” He calls out before closing the door.

You sit in disbelief for a few moments before complying with his demands.

A few moments later, you walk out of the room and hear Jake and your father watching the football game.

“You’re here watching the game when you’re about to play anyway…” You stare at the two, dumfounded.

Jake tilts his head up at you as he gets up, “The game’s too good. Let’s go!”

He says goodbye to your parents and walks you to his car, “We’re kind of early, so you wanna eat something or eat after the game?”

“After the game?” You repeat slowly.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning to run home as soon as the game begins,” Jake runs a hand through his hair.

You stifle a laugh, “I doubt I'd make it before half time.”

Jake laughs, “Alright, let's get going.”

Along the way, Jake plays some songs and you can't help but enjoy the atmosphere. Jake glances her eyes towards you from time to time, fighting the smile that creeps his way onto his face in response to yours.

He can't help but think of how beautiful you look, when you’re not even doing anything remotely significant.

“We’re here,” You say.

“Thanks, Sherlock,” Jake rolls his eyes and gets out of the car. As soon as you open the car door, he pushes you back inside and shuts it. You furrow your eyebrows at him standing by the passenger door.

Jake swiftly opens the car door for you, looking around as you leave the car although it's a struggle to move after a zoo of butterflies started swarming in your stomach from his actions.

“Thanks,” You rub at the nape of your neck as he mutters an ‘its alright’ to you.

The pair of you make your way across the football pitch, Jake greets people as he walks past them while you dodge dirty stares from jealous students. It almost makes you want to laugh; if only they knew how it really was.

To be quite honest, you weren’t sure if you knew either now that you thought about it.

Brushing your thoughts away, you sat down on one of the benches, “I’ll watch from here.”

Jake nods and slings his bag to put next to you, “You’ll watch this, right?”

“Yes,” You huff. “Anything else, kind sir?”

Jake throws his head back as he laughs, “No, madam.”

Before you can look away, Jake removes his top and replaces it with a football jersey. You know you shouldn't, but you can't help it - his abs were literally staring at you in plain sight, so you had to look back at them.

Of course, he notices you staring and tuts, “Didn’t strike me as a pervert, Y/n.”

You gasp, stammering, “You.. You didn't even warn me!”

“Relax, angel. I don’t mind,” He jogs backwards, sending you a few winks before printing off to the rest of his football members.

Just before the game starts, Minji and Jieun run over and join you, already screaming the names of whichever boy they were infatuated with at that current time.

The game proves to be far more interesting as expected and you end up not regretting letting yourself be dragged out of bed by Jake.

You watch intently as Jake dribbles the ball and shoots it directly in the goal. Your adrenaline must have taken over you, since the next thing you know, you’re jumping up and cheering. In the midst of Jake’s celebration around the pitch, he looks over at you with the widest smile he’s ever fathomed. Jieun and Minji share smirks from the side.

By half time, he separates from the rest of his team and runs directly to you.

You hand him a water bottle as he sits beside you, sweat droplets making his skin glow an extra bit.

“I didn’t expect you to cheer for me,” Jake says, smugly.

“I didn’t cheer for you. I cheered for the team,” You correct.

“I didn’t see you get up and cheer like that when Sunghoon scored,” Jake mutters under his breath.

You dart your eyes at him, “You’re lucky I didn’t hear that.”

Jake sits beside you, regaining his strength in the fifteen minute break while you look around at the other members, eyes fixated on one familiar member.

“Oh shit,” You turn around to Jieun and Minji, whose eyes follow your previous gaze and soon replicate your own shocked expression. Jake turns to the three of you, attempting to eavesdrop.

“Is that-”

“Don’t say the name,” You gesture to Jake sitting beside you.

“Woah, woah,” Jake stands up. “Whose name?”

“None of your business,” You snap. “Shouldn’t you go and, like, discuss team plays?”

Jake shakes his head, “Nah, this isn’t a serious game. It’s just a friendly. Who’s the guy?”

Jake nods his head at the guy you were looking at, fury slowly bubbling in his insides.

“He's a relative,” You lie.

“Bullshit,” Jake huffs. “I’ll find out after the game, anyway.”

The guy was Lee Minseok, and he was your first kiss at a party several months earlier. Being a kiss at a party, you don’t even remember it but your friends had informed you of it. He, too, had wanted to reconnect by messaging you on each and every one of your social media accounts for weeks after despite you saying you weren't looking for anything. You’d felt bad, but it was better to leave it as a drunken mistake than leading him on completely. It had also been a shame that he was your first ever kiss, but you were glad you didn’t remember it.

You look at Jieun and Minji again before sitting back down next to Jake, who doesn’t say another word. After a few minutes, he walks off to his members without saying anything. You feel slightly disappointed that he didn’t say one of his flirty remarks, but you don’t pay too much mind.

You continue watching the game, silently cheering whenever Jake scores or does anything remotely notable and you notice how his eyes always turn to you upon doing something well, but again, you don’t think much of it.

It’s only when you notice Minseok slytackling Jake, leading to Jake falling on his back. Soft gasps erupt from the crowd, a way of everyone agreeing that it was far too harsh of a movement. Minseok holds his hand out to apologise, only to be rejected by Jake smacking his hand away and pushing him by the shoulders. It becomes a small brawl, Jay and Sunghoon having to pull Jake away and to the changing rooms. You watch Jake strut over to the changing rooms, a look of rage crossed over his face.

The next thirty minutes of the game go by painfully slow; all you wanted was to know if Jake was alright.

Despite Jieun and Minji’s attempts at trying to get you to go home with them, you wait for Jake, just to find out if he's okay.

It gets dark when you spot Jake walking on the other side of the football field and you call him over, “Jake!”

He turns around and looks at you with a slightly bewildered expression, but waits for you nonetheless.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“I’m fine,” He mumbles. “Did you ask Minseok if he was, too?”

It was your turn to look at him bewilderedly, “No, I couldn’t care less if he was injured.”

Jake’s lips almost curl into a smile. Almost, if he didn’t hear Sunghoons words replaying in his head. Minseok was your first kiss - he stole your first kiss. The feeling of rage bubbled in Jake’s insides again.

“Anyway, I waited because you promised to get me food,” You grin.

Jake looks away, “I can’t. Dad needs help at home.”

“Oh,” You whisper. “Okay, but you owe me another day.”

Jake nods in agreement, and you wait for that familiar smile to return on his face, but it doesn’t.

“I’m going to get going,” You say.

Again, you wait for him to say something, like offer to drop you off home. But, nothing.

You feel like a fool as you walk away from him, his figure growing smaller and smaller behind you with every step.

The next few days are all similar, there are times where you expect Jake to say something to you around the halls or in Physics, but he doesn’t. You don’t even see him around the house anymore, despite his family being there and them saying that he was busy catching up with schoolwork. That was definitely a lie, you knew him.

Mr Sim calls you to sit with them, smiling at you politely.

“Thank you for tutoring Jaeyun. His grades slipped a bit in Australia but, thanks to you, they’re back to normal,” He grins. “I hope there’s no hard feelings, though.”

“Of course, not. Why would there be?” You return his politeness.

Mr Sim sighs in ease, “Oh, I thought you would be since Jaeyun got 98 on the recent test. Although, it was only a marks difference. You’re seriously wonderful-”

The rest of his words tune out, the only thing you hear is that Jake got higher than you in the test but he lied. Why did he lie?

୨ৎ

Deciding to head over to his house with the lie that you needed to give him some school work was merely impulsive, it was far too late when you realised at his doorstep. You’d spent the last few days laying in the darkness of your room, wondering why he has suddenly switched off his typically playful manner to a foreign, nonchalant version of himself. You even cried to Jieun and Minji about it, who cursed him repeatedly.

Jake opens the door in Spongebob pyjamas to which you cock an eyebrow at, “And you called mine childish.”

“What are you doing here?” Jake asks, helping you into his house. “Do you want something to drink or eat?”

You shake your head and he leans on the wall in front of you as you take a seat.

“So,” Jake stares at you. “What are you doing here?”

You take a long and slow breath, “Why did you lie about your mark in the recent exam?”

Jake steps forward slightly, “How did you-”

You shake your head, “It doesn’t matter. Why did you lie?”

Jake exhales, “I knew it would make you happy.”

You scoff, getting to your feet, “Why on earth do you care if I’m happy?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jake grits his teeth.

“You hate me. You’ve been avoiding me for days, now,” You breathe out.

Jake stares at you blankly, before breaking out into a fit of laughter, “Hate you?”

He inches closer to you until hes standing directly in front of you, “Y/n, I came back here for you.”

“What are you talking about?” You chuckle. “You came back because our parents-”

“No,” Jake interjects. “You think I didn’t beg my father to take that deal? You think my dad doesn’t know how in love with you I am? Y/n, everyone knows but you!”

You shake your head, “This isn’t true.”

“Look, if you don’t like me back, just say so. But, don’t come here and start spewing nonsense. I’ve liked you since that day that we won the Science Fair together. I’ve been in love with you since I left for Australia.”

You look up at him, “No way.”

Jake rolls his eyes and takes your hand, pulling you to his bedroom. He sits you down in his bed while he reaches into a drawer and pulls out a large box.

Jake removes the lid and brings out multiple items that you recognise and some that you don’t.

“This is my Y/n box,” he places it onto your lap. “Have a look.”

Jake holds a few items in his hand, “This is the bracelet I won at a Physics competition in Australia at the beginning. I planned to give it to you. This is a teddy I won at some amusement park. And, this is a letter I wrote on the plane when I realised that I was in love with you. Well, am in love with you.”

Jake continues, “Even my grades, Y/n. They were nothing without you. It’s like you were my only source of motivation, my grades were average towards the end of the year in Australia. My parents and my teachers all blamed it on the move, but I knew. I knew it was because you weren’t there.”

You’re speechless, he kept everything remotely linked to you since you were thirteen. He thought of you in every little thing he did.

“You love me?” You question.

“Yes, Y/n. I’ve been in love with you.”

“But,” You breathe out. “I’m hard to love.”

Your voice is strained, and isn’t far from a whisper. There’s so many things you want to say yet so little words to conform them to the perfect boy sitting in front of you.

He almost guffaws at your words - Jake might have if he didn’t realise just how serious you were. He didn’t understand; what on earth was so hard about loving you? There was nothing.

If only you could see just how effortless it had been, straight from the beginning. The minute he laid eyes on you standing by a handmade rocket, scribbling ideas down on a piece of paper, it was as if the atoms in the universe had created an inseparable bond that tied you two together. It was as if the poles in the universe had drawn together, creating a magnetic field of attraction.

Jake’s eyes twinkle as he leans closer to you, “There is nothing hard about loving you. Loving you is like breathing out oxygen, so if loving you is hard then breathing is, too.”

You flick your eyes up at him again, now only centimetres away from those pink plush lips of his until you close the gap, pulling him into a soft kiss.

“I love you, too, “ You breathe out.

“Really?” Jake gasps. “You’re not just saying that?”

You shake your head, intertwining your fingers, “No, seriously. I do, I didn’t know I did but now.. Now, I know. I came here because you were avoiding me the whole week and I couldn’t bear it.”

Jake giggles, “That’s because I didn’t think you liked me back after that whole situation with Minseok at the football game. I thought it would be better to just leave you alone.”

Jake gently intertwines his fingers with you, a casual action albeit causing your heart to race a million miles per hour.

“So,” he beams, “if you get higher than me in the next Physics exam, I’ll take you out on a date.”

You cock an eyebrow at him, a grin paired on your lips, “And, what if I don’t?”

Jake looks away, thinking for a moment, “Then, you take me on a date.”

“Well, can I give you a kiss first?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him as if he’s ever going to decline that offer

“You don’t need to ask twice,” Jake breathes out, before meeting your lips with a wide grin plastered on his face.

୨ৎ

Seeing Jake knock on your window from outside your house was quite a shock for you, being it was a Sunday evening and you were sorting out your school bag for the next day.

You open your window to let him in with a befuddled expression worn on your face, “What are you doing here? It’s almost 6:30.”

A soft smile is on his lips as he looks at you, and climbs through your window, “I had to see you. Its been so long.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, “I saw you on Friday.”

“That’s far too long, angel.”

You smile as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you in for a warm embrace, he hums as he closes his eyes and rocks your body with his from side to side.

“Why didn’t you use the front door?” You ask him.

Jake nervously rubs the back of his neck, “I’m scared of your father.”

You laugh at his words, “You’ve known the man for years! What’s there to be afraid of?”

He sits down on your bed, playing with your teddy bears, “Well, he’s different with me now that I’m.. dating his daughter.”

“He’s a bit shocked but he’ll get used to it. You can’t expect him to like you if he finds out you’ve been sneaking in through my window, though,” You pinch Jake’s cheek softly.

Jake nods, “I know.” Jake sighs and leans into your touch against his cheek.

“Why don’t you try going back through the front door? You can ask my parents for permission to grab dinner outside, today,” You suggest, pulling his hands up.

You watch Jake’s eyes glint in excitement as he heads back out of the window. Yet, he doesn’t forget to turn around to press a quick kiss on your cheek before he leaves, only to return to be in your house in less than a minute.

Hearing the doorbell ring, you make your way downstairs while fighting the urge to grin upon knowing exactly who was at your door.

You watch your father open the door, seeing Jake, “Hi Jake, what brings you here?”

Jake stammers, “Hello, sir. I mean, Mr Lee… I came to see Y/n.”

You stand beside your father, “Dad, you haven’t even let him in.”

Pulling Jake inside, you frown at your Dad as your Mum joins the three of you.

“Honey, why are you so awkward around Jaeyun now? Weren’t you the one who always wanted him as a son?” Your mum chuckles.

“I didn’t think he would become a son like.. this,” Your dad darts his eyes towards you and Jake. “So, is the relationship going well?”

You struggle to not break out into a fit of laughter, “Yes, Dad. Thanks for your concern. Jake and I are going to get some ice cream.”

Your Mum nods happily while your father sighs and sits back. Jake bows his head politely and leaves with you.

“I hate the awkwardness,” Jake whines and you laugh, intertwining your fingers with his.

“He’ll get used to it!” You boop Jake’s nose sweetly.

Walking alongside Jake with your fingers wrapped tightly in his own, the crisp autumn air hitting against your cheeks and the streetlights illuminating the sky; you can’t help but feel a sense of longing towards the moment. It just felt right.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jake breaks the silence, tilting his head towards you. “Actually.. No, no. You’re going to make fun of me.”

Jake hides his face in his hoodie, but you can still see the redness in his cheeks.

“What?” You laugh, prying his face out of his hoodie. “Tell me!”

Jake sighs, “I used to think we were alike but I don’t think we are. So, I guess we’re kinda like magnets.”

“You’ve called me a lot of things, Sim Jaeyun, but never have you called me a magnet.”

Jake sighs with a smile on his face, “Not like that! I just meant, we’re not as alike as we think. Kinda like a magnet, but they work out fine. If anything, there’s literal forces of attraction pulling them together. Isn’t that so cool?”

You chortle, “Yes, Jake. That’s very cool. I love being your magnet.”

Jake presses a kiss to your lips, “Stop making fun of me.”

“Stop being a nerd,” You retort.

“Says the one who got 100% in the last quiz!”“Don’t be jealous, Sim. You’ll get on my level someday.”

[theladybrownstarot]

FROM:LORD KRISHNA

Pick a card reading ~

Namaste everyone brown here ♡ I'm back with an another pac which lead us to know some important things that jagadguru lord krishna wants us to know right now! So make sure you like/reblogg/Comment/follow to give me blessings and come with more content .

LET'S BEGIN WITH IT !

Pile 1. Pile 2. Pile 3.

Pile 1 .

Hey dear y/n ,

why do you fear a lot my child ? fearing about the things fearing to lose things because you think they will run away fearing for something that only exists on possibility but not definitely . You need to trust in yourself that all will happen for good for you and if you don't take a little step or sit idle and say that is your so called rest and protection then it isn't because the thing you fear will happen so don't run but face with intention to do it and not making it a matter of life and death . When we face what fear most we receive which is far greater than the dark . You don't know what abundance of opportunity and learning awaits yet for you soon but you can only get it and remove your fear why loving things and starting from love will eventually lead you to great . When you serve love ,you will serve me ;the divine. So ,face your fear and life with love and do talk about things with other for guidance .

From

Krishna

Pile 2 .

Hey dear y/n ,

I will say break the rules today seriously my dear its a lot ahead to go to your future and work for it and so that's why for your mind and body for it's good and wellness just go away and have fun . Find the bliss of sharing your time and energy by spending quality time or partying with others . Don't mentally stress out yourself beta . Your body needs rest so your soul , so just go without thinking about anything important coming ahead . For those who got some ideas for their work then go ahead because success awaits you ahead . Start to become more passionate about your work by being into it but we do not burn out for more otherwise what you have will go away dear . Start to accepting other's opinion, thoughts and feeling because you can't be right all the time but surely you need to remove few people so they learn from their actions .

From

Krishna

Pile 3 .

Hey dear y/n,

you are going to taste the sweet from the labour you gave in for something big ahead i know much you have worked ahead and back for this/these things but now the wait is over and the win is coming to you . You are going to travel and have the taste of more opportunities ahead but if you haven't got it now then you will by being more isolated with yourself you need to be bit more rigorous to match yourself up with it but you will get it . Remember beta do not tell your achievement , plan , process or anything to anyone because their they lie covered with jealousy and envy to do bad on you . Get a protective charm or kirtanas done for to remove bad evil eye from you . Remember that when you get it don't forget to help others in need too .

From

Krishna

THE END WITH PAC

NOTE :

Do support you reader who called me to help you by blessing her. I bless you too beta .

[peachymilkandcream]

Ready or Not|Part 9|Yandere Levi x Evelyn

(A/N: So the next chapter will be the last in this series, I'm not going to draw it out too much as much as I like these two. That doesn't mean they're going away however. All of these are pre-written weeks in advance but by the time this goes up who knows we might have another Levi and Evelyn series chosen to start next. Hope you enjoy and comment to be added to the taglist!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, graphic depictions of violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc.

================================================

Levi wasn't a complete animal, he'd give Evelyn a chance to see reason and agree to come back with him. Most likely it was that bitch of a physician gaslighting her into believing there was a better life out there, that she needed to be rid of him to be happy. His wife had always been incredibly naïve, if she came along quietly he wouldn't punish her as severely.

A firm knock on the apartment door announced his return into her life, any minute now he'd hear the door unlock and she'd run into his arms with his son, tearfully apologizing for how cruel she's treated him.

A minute passes and this doesn't happen, adding to his annoyance.

"Evelyn it's me, don't do anything stupid and open the damn door." His fist pounds on the wood.

Again there is nothing.

"Look, I know you're scared, but it'll be fine. I'm not mad, just disappointed. After all this time, all we've shared, I thought you got over your little temper tantrums. You know there's no escaping me so stop making it harder on yourself and just open the door."

With more time passing he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself enough to think rationally.

"Fuck it."

He kicks the door open, splintering the wood. Stepping inside he surveys the cramped living space in search of his child and wife.

Clean but empty was the best way to describe it. Evelyn had come here with no much more than the clothes on her back and the meagre change she stole from him, of course they didn't have much.

Levi couldn't help but smirk, he bet she missed his extravagant lifestyle. There was something about having everything handed to you on a silver platter versus crawling up the corporate ladder to make enough to survive. Poor girl, he was saving her at this point.

As he explored, he captured glimpses of what her life had been void of him. A life of a working mother trying to make ends meet, all of her bills on the coffee table printed with long overdue dates on them. She needed him more than she thought, someone to take this mental tole of responsibility from her, reducing her to a blissful life of children and carefree days.

The bodies found in various states of disposal made him stop, she had always claimed she would never stoop to his level and kill those who came in her way. However it seemed like her own self-righteousness had come to stab her in the ass, she was just like him, cutting down victims to get ahead in life. Never had he been more proud.

Her bedroom was where he spent the most time, knowing she had slept in that bed, undressed here, made his heart race and blood rush to his dick.

The bed looked barely slept in, indicating nights where worried kept rest at bay. With him she always slept soundly after being filled with his cum.

He bent to pick up a pair of panties in a dirty clothes hamper, taking in the intoxicating sent before tucking them into his coat pocket. Clearly she wasn't here, but she hadn't fled, knowing he had come for her. But if her schedule followed that of a normal work day she would be home in a few hours, he could go out and find a nice spot to relax and plot their reunion before returning and pouncing on her happy life.

With that thought tugging his lips into a smile, Levi exited the apartment, not bothering with the door, if her things were stolen it was her own stupid fault for betraying him in the first place.

"It seems like this game is over my dear."

=============================================

The sun beat down on Evelyn and Furlan while she was on the hunt for a job. All of her employers had mysteriously been disappearing after they fired her, and so her list of job opportunities was growing thinner and thinner by day. Anywhere she could she'd beg for a job, the fear of finding some way to pay rent looming behind her.

She caught herself wishing Levi back into her life, wanting that life of stability. But as soon as she thought it she shook it away again, after all this, how could she even allow her brain to think of that madman? She was betraying everything she had done until now. No, she'd find a way to make it work.

As she walked through the crowded streets Furlan tugged on her hand. "Papa-"

Evelyn groaned softly. "No sweetie, Papa's gone away now, I know you miss him, just come along darling."

However he still pulled, begging for his father. Evelyn still hadn't gotten used to this, the constant reminder that her child longed for the man that abused her cut her deeply. She didn't know how to break it, she just wanted him to be happy without Levi.

Finally fed up with being told to hush, Furlan slipped out of Evelyn's hand, running into the crowd while she was talking about a possible job position.

"Furlan? Get back here right now- Furlan-!" Her heart jumped, panic setting in as she chased after him.

===============================================

Levi felt the small form hug his leg, slightly startled, he looked down to shoo off whatever child had mistaken him for his parent. Only to be met with his own son clinging to him like he had missed him dearly.

He ruffled his hair before kneeling to his level and pulling the boy into his arms. "There you are, I've been looking all over for you."

"Papa play hide seek?" He asked innocently, as if all of this heartache was a simple children's game.

"Yes son, and it seems I won. But I'm still looking for Mama, do you know where she is?"

==============================================

Evelyn chased Furlan until she saw him being held by a man bent over, unable to see his face. "I'm so sorry he got away from me-"

Her eyes meet his and her entire world went numb. Terror filling every inch of her body as she stares into those eyes, those cold eyes.

"Levi-"

"Seems like we found her Furlan, I guess that makes me the winner." He smiles at them both. "Now my dear. Are you ready to go home?"

[fieldofdaisiies]

Ultima Ex Nobis | ch. IX

-all rights reserved-

Nessian AU word count: ~2,4k words warnings: mentions of bad mental health summary: Six years into a global pandemic which was caused by a mass fungal infection that turns hosts into zombie-like creatures and makes the whole of Prythian collapse, the former army general Cassian Cadell is tasked with one very special mission – escorting Nesta Archeron, one of the few immune survivors, across a post-apocalyptic Prythian to a group of people of the name L. Their identity  is unknown but they can make an antidote.

The car honks. The car honks? 

The air whooshes out of Cassian’s lungs, his heart sinking into his belly, but then…

What fool would honk, Cassian thinks to himself and speeds up a little when he hears the engine behind him being turned off. It is extremely exhausting to run while carrying Nesta — yes, he is strong and Nesta does not weigh too much, but she is still a grown woman and not exactly easy to carry. His muscles ache, exhaustion reaching him in waves. He hasn’t slept much in the days before, not at all the previous night. He is drained of energy. 

He grabs her tighter, pushes his feet harder into the ground, gritting his teeth. And even if it was last thing he did, he would bring Nesta Archeron to safety that was sure. His heart beats frantically in his chest, sweat starting to build up all over his skin, drenching his shirt. It is extremely humid and all in all already quite warm outside — it seems like a storm or at least rain is about to come. 

Azriel is a little further ahead but slows when he notices that Cass can’t keep up, his glances over his shoulder, panic etched into his normally so unreadable face. Both of them shudder when a car door is slammed close, over the headlights they can’t make out a face. Cass knows that just like him, Azriel is only waiting to hear a shot being fired, a bullet heading for them. Only that a shot never comes. Instead a voice sounds from behind them. Deep, male. 

“Hey!”

It is Azriel who stops dead in his tracks, his whole body slumps, and Cassian can practically sense how the colour drains from his brother’s face. Azriel whips his head to the side, turning around, his arms falling limp to his sides and then he just stares. He stares straight ahead when a large figure appears in front of the headlights, stretching both his arms from his body. 

Cassian releases a loud gasp full of relief and bliss. He would have never thought to be so happy to see this one specific person, has he never liked him, but God, is he happy to see this man. 

“Come, Az,” Cassian says and stalks forward or actually backwards, towards the street and the car, suddenly a rush of energy filling him. Azriel takes a moment, his throat working on a swallow. He can’t peel his eyes of the man in front of him, but slowly his feet start moving and the three of them near the truck on quick steps. 

“Looks like you lot could need some help?” Eris Vanserra raises one neat brow, a lop-sided smile appearing on his face.

Azriel finally comes back to his sense, his voice like cold death when he says, “Where the hell have you been, Eris?”

“Don’t waste breath on speaking, come here and kiss me already.”

It is beyond Cassian how fast his brother moves, closing the distance between the two of them. But Azriel does not kiss him. Azriel’s hand collides with Eris’ cheek in a loud slap that catches the man with the red hair in a stupor. But only for a moment. Then Eris’ hands are on Azriel’s neck, Azriel’s hands on Eris chest and their lips come together in a passionate kiss. 

“You will be able to forgive me when I have explained everything to you,” Eris says and places a gentle kiss to Azriel’s forehead. 

“I really hope you have a damn well explanation,” Azriel mutters. “How did you find us?” “Get in the car, all…three of you? That is, I assume, Nesta Archeron?”

“Yes,” Cassian bites out, not liking how he said her name, like he knows her or something. “We immediately need help for her.” Eris understands the urgency, heading for his side of the car. Cassian promptly opts for the backseat,   Eris opens the door for him and takes the backpack from him. Cassian carefully slides inside the car and places Nesta next to him while Eris loads the backpack into the trunk of the car. 

Nesta is too weak to sit up, so Cassian lets her lay down, her head in his lap. Azriel rides shotgun, his back rigid, his backpack between his legs on the floor. 

Eris puts in reverse, drives backwards with the same speed Azriel would have done. Under different circumstances Cassian would have chuckled at the two of them and how similar they are, but right now he did not really feel like it.

“Why are you here by foot? Where is your car? Your truck? Anything?” Eris questions once they are back on the road. His gaze is trained on the road, his features sharp, expression cold. The inside of the car is cool, but not uncomfortably, it is alright. Eris’ car is more modern than Az’ old truck was.

“Flat tire,” Azriel answers matter-of-factly. He does not look at Eris, staring straight ahead as well.

“Why are you out here? Somewhere in the middle of nowhere? Of the beating track.”

This time Azriel only raises one shoulder and lets it drop. He cocks his head a little, but stares straight ahead. 

“Don’t think I didn’t miss you, Az. My fucking heart was torn apart when I couldn’t find you anymore. I have looking for you for months.” Eris pauses, but Azriel gives him no answer. So Eris lifts his hand from the gear and lets it slide over Azriel’s thigh, taking one of his scarred ones into his large and warm hand. 

Cassian has to smile a little in the backseat, watching how hard Azriel tries to be mad at Eris. It somehow warms his heart a little to see how much Eris likes his brother. Although years ago Cassian would have hoped for everyone but Eris to be on Azriel’s side, he had to admit that only one male could make Azriel the way Eris did — before he had disappeared of course. 

“Losing you was the worst thing that could have happened to me. Darkbringers brought me to a camp in the north, it took hella long to escape and find a car. Then I started looking for you and never stopped, people in the Starfall basecamp finally told me where to find you.”

“I missed you too,” Azriel finally says, his jaw tense, his lashes damp. “Like hell.”

Cassian almost wants to cheer at his brother for finally revealing his emotions, but his focus returns to Nesta who stirs in his lap. He glances down at her and brushes a strand of hair out of her damp face.

“So this is Eris, his boyfriend.” There is a small smile on Nesta’s face before her head lolls to the side, her nose colliding with Cassian’s belly. The former general keeps his hand on her face, softly shifting her so she is in her former position again. “Yes, Nes, he is.”

∙ ∙ • ◦ • ◦ ∙ ∙

Nesta is wreathing, her head moving quickly. She is clinging to her life, despite being mortally wounded. She fists Cassian’s shirt, holding tightly onto it. His eyebrows are drawn together when the former general silently regards Nesta, collecting his thoughts - she looks like a picture of misery in his arms, a small shivering and fragile bundle. “We either need to go a lot faster, or we stop now and you take her care of her now, Eris.”

Eris informed both Cass and Az that he wasn’t sure if he was followed and that’s why they now need to drive further away until it is safe for Eris to look at Nesta’s wounds. Before the pandemic has started to spread Eris worked as a doctor, he was fired when he tried to do experiments for an antidote — experiments that did not follow the example of Keir and the Darkbringers, they differed too much for their liking and hence needed to be stopped.

“Five more minutes.” “Eris!” Cassian says loudly and it makes Nesta stir once again in his lap. She shivers erratically and Cassian pulls Azriel’s jacket further up on her, curling his arm over her chest, to keep her warmer. “Every second counts.”

The air is thick with tension, but Cassian grows still to better observe Nesta. He watches how she breathes in and out — it is shallow but steady. Her lips are pinched, her forehead laying in furrows, telling him she is in a lot of pain, obviously. 

Eris Vanerrsa maneuvers the car down a narrow path, straying from the main street. They are driving through heavy grass, the car is shaking, the path underneath them bumpy and brittle. One of Cassian’s hand presses down onto the car door, steadying himself while with his other arm he holds Nesta tightly, hoping that the shaking of the car does not cause her too much pain. 

Where Eris is heading, no one really knows. He is just heading somewhere hopefully safe. They are driving through high, dew-drenched grass, through thorny shrubs until the big road they have left is nothing but a line on the horizon behind them. 

When Eris deems it to be safe, he slams down on the breaks, bringing the vehicle to a quick halt somewhere off the beaten track. “Azriel, you keep watch. Cassian carry the woman to the back of the car, sit her down in the open trunk. Then keep watch as well. I will look at her wounds.”

Silently both males agree. There is no room and also no need for objection, they simply do what they have been told.

Once out of the car Eris makes a beeline for the trunk, opening it and lifting out a small case filled with medical care products. In the mean time Cassian has carried Nesta to the back of the car as well, carefully sitting her down only to—

“Place her on the ground. The grass is dry. And stay, Cassian, I need to to provide me with light.”

Eris passes the former general a flashlight. It is still dim outside, the morning has now fully arrived but the sky is grey, covered in thick, dark clouds, signaling that rain is truly about to come. They have to be fast, Cassian thinks, his fingers trembling when he turns on the torch and points it to Nesta. Her chest is heaving with quick pants, her eyes squeezed shut. A film of sweat coats her whole body and the crack in Cassian’s chest only intensifies. He knows that the bite can technically not cause her much harm, but still, seeing her in so much pain is dreadful. 

And that thought does something to him. He realises he cares more about Nesta that he would have every thought and than he actually has expected. More than he thought he would ever be capable of caring about a woman again. There is something about Nesta Archeron that has really caught his interest, that he finds incredibly attractive and now he really questions himself why he hated her so much in the past. Why he talked so rudely about her. She really does not deserve it, and he knows that one day he will apologise for what he has said to her…back then when she dropped her plate filled with food. He had seen the pain in her eyes back then, but just added fuel to the fire by calling her cruel names in front of everyone. 

But then— Food. Cassian’s eyes trail over her body and he knows that she probably hasn’t gotten enough to eat under Keir’s watch, she looks so thin, so fragile. 

Eris carefully shoves her shirt away, unwrapping the bandage and grimaces at the view that is revealed to him. Blood has already seeped through the cotton of the bandage and pooled underneath it. The deep inflamed gash is oozing both blood and pus. The skin around it looks red and swollen from the blood rushing to the area to accelerate the healing process. 

“Nothing we cannot fix,” Eris says, his tone certain. He fumbles out a pair of medical gloves as well as a bottle, a spray bottle, and then he works his magic. Cleaning her wound, putting all sorts of creams and things onto her open wound, things Cassian hasn’t even heard of before. 

“I really don’t want to rush you, Eris, but it is starting to rain.” Cassian lifts his head to the sky and feels another fat drop of water fall onto his face. He glances past the car, seeing Azriel keep watch, the rifle secured in his hands while he stalks around the car. 

“I know,” Eris answers and brushes the back of his hand over his forehead. “But I need to stitch her up right now. It is vital.”

And so this is what Eris does, carefully working the needle with the thinnest thread Cassian has ever seen through the edges of Nesta’s wound, slowly sealing them. He finishes up with putting another layer of cream on it and wraps a bandage around her waist. Another pain killer follows that Nesta has a hard time swallowing due to her dry throat. But she manages to do so when Eris lets water flow into her mouth, holding her chin up so all of it disappears down her throat. “Well done, Nesta,” he mumbles, a small smile on his face. 

It is right when Cassian lifts the woman back into his arms, that a sheet of rain falls down on them. They all hurry back into the car, doors being slammed close, when fatter and larger drops fall onto the vehicle. 

“That was close,” Eris breathes and turns his head to look at Cassian and Nesta. The former general still has her in his arms, cradled to his chest. Cassian doesn’t notice both Eris and Azriel looking at him, his whole focus is on Nesta, how she snuggles up to him, how her breathing calms, how her hand slides up to his neck, holding onto him. Cassian leans his head against hers, his hand placed on her hip. With his other hand he lifts Azriel’s jacket over her once again, keeping her safe and warm while heavy rain is pouring down on the outside of the car. 

It is obvious for Azriel and Eris to take watch until the rain clears and they can go on, driving now wouldn’t be safe. Drizzle slides down the windows, the rain is soaking the landscape around them, puddles form on the ground, but inside the car the four of them are safe and warm. At least for the moment. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

tags: @helhjertet@moonlightazriel@aayo-whatt@crushedcloudsx @brekkershadowsinger@girasoli-e-sorrisi @ignite-me@swifti-ed@cassiansbigwingspan@burningsnowleopard@headcanonheadcase @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop

[justlookatthosesausages]

Inktober 2022 day 27 🍦 "Snack"

Honeymaren lifted her eyes when the Snow Queen walked down the stairs. And the stare she gave to Elsa became so intense that the latter thought for a second that her knees would buckle and she would fall over the remaining steps.

Honeymaren’s chestnut irises were overfilled with admiration and, undeniably, devotion, which Elsa could see with no exaggeration from where she stood. 

First off, Honeymaren absolutely lost it at the sole vision of the outfit being made out of ice. Sure, Elsa wore custom ice literally every day since they met, except for some moments when she tried traditional Northuldra tunics. But Honeymaren firmly believed that she would die before she would stop being impressed by the creative goddess. Secondly, the dress seemed to be ahead of its time in terms of fashion. Even Honeymaren, who didn’t care much about that domain, could notice that Elsa had been inspired by Anna’s very modern and beautiful outfit, and had made it even better, without imitating it. The upper part of it was like a suit, with buttons made out of the most refined and semi-transparent ice, crocuses adorning them. It made the dress look like a bespoke outfit, which made sense as it obviously was. The collar was in the shape of a V, with a neckline that looked like a cleavage without being one, which drove a part of Honeymaren’s brain completely wild. Every edge of that suit had tiny shining finitions made with ice thread, that looked like swirls and curls typical of Winter. The rest of the dress was a long, floor-length classical gown, but with patterns starting from Elsa’s navel - which was underneath the suit part - and reaching the bottom of it. The patterns looked like, or rather, mentally corrected Honeymaren, definitely were, trails of frost spreading against the fabric like refined lacework. 

The ensemble was stunning. It was simple yet sophisticated, and the dark purple color of the Arendelle flag really served this paradox with its tone. 

Somehow, the color enlightened Elsa’s azure blue eyes, and Honeymaren’s gaze lifted from the dress to her face. Her eyes also instinctively, or maybe in a predatory way, drifted to Elsa’s mouth, and her heart made a leap at the sight of her lipstick. 

Yet the Northuldra quickly felt subdued by the mighty presence of the Spirit as she walked forward. 

Okay, maybe she wasn’t objective, and maybe that she was so lovestruck she exaggerated things. But Elsa was making a clear impression; several members of the staff had turned around, and a waiter nearly dropped his tray at her passage. 

Now only a few meters away from each other, Honeymaren let out a blissed sigh. 

“Sweet Mother Ahtohallan, you are gorgeous.” 

“That's my line.” Whispered Anna with a smirk. 

Elsa nudged her sister’s ribs with her elbow to stop her teasing, in a way that meant ‘Let me enjoy that, okay?’. Though she was happy to see that Honeymaren picked some words from Anna’s vocabulary after spending so much time with her lately. 

The Fifth Spirit smiled widely at the passionate stare the brunette was giving her now that the space was closed between them and their auras embraced. Elsa was about to say something but Anna stepped forward. 

“Honeymaren, you should close your mouth. I know that we have less bugs here than in the Forest, but still. You never know.” She ruined on purpose. 

Honeymaren blushed and immediately closed her jaw, gulping a bit in embarrassment but also with technical need because she had forgotten to breathe normally for the past seconds. Her shame was actually funny, and Elsa resigned to scold her sister. 

“Sorry for taking so long. Are you guys okay?” She asked, internally smirking because even if she was looking at everyone, she could still feel Honeymaren’s astonished look on her. “Are any of you hungry? We could have a snack break. It’s going to be a long day.” 

The boys said they were okay, and when Elsa turned to the Northuldra to make sure that she was too, the brunette hadn’t lost any of her blush, actually even more flustered now that the azure blue eyes had set on her again. 

“I’m pretty. I mean, I’m pretty good!! I’m pretty good.” Corrected Honeymaren quickly, and thankfully she didn’t see Anna’s smile behind Elsa. “I’m not a snack. In need of any snack.” She corrected again, enraged against herself for failing so hard at a simple sentence. 

She dearly hoped that they thought she was only having trouble with their language and not because she lost control over her tongue at her sight. Wait, control of her tongue?? 

[from 'Healing The Blooming Crocus']

[merminns]

Bad influence

Fred Weasley x Reader

❧ Content: fluff, just the Weasley Twins and Lee being trouble makers

❧ Word count: 1.8k

❧ Notes: this is a repost from my old blog

It has been a calm, peaceful morning. It was finally the weekend after a long tiring week. You had agreed to spend the morning with your friends in your dorm to make up for the lack of time you spent together during the week, then the rest of the day is reserved for your boyfriend, who has grown restless over the lack of attention you’ve been giving him.

The sun was giving off enough warmth as you walked through the hallways to where you and Fred agreed to meet. Your walk held an air of blissful silence that you rarely ever get. Being a student in Hogwarts and dating one of the infamous Weasley twins, ‘peace’ and ‘silence’ aren’t words that usually made it into your daily vocabulary.

You love Fred, so much that it sometimes feels unbelievable, but sometimes you just long for some peace after all the chaos that comes with dating him.

Unfortunately for you, today wasn’t a day where peace would find its place. Your peaceful walk was cut short when you noticed all the noise in the hallway ahead of you. You walked closer to the noise, only to come face to face with a chaotic scene.

The first thing you noticed how the hallway was unusually filled with students. It was very unlikely for this number of students to be packed in one place on the weekend. But that wasn’t even the problem. Almost every student was on the ground struggling to stand, and those standing seemed to be struggling with keeping their balance.

The chaos should have been enough for you to stop in your tracks, but the confusion you felt kept you moving forward. Before you knew it, your feet were slipping fast. The world started spinning as you lost all balance and you closed your eyes in preparation for your awkward fall.

But the cold hard surface of the ground didn’t come. Instead, you felt an arm wrap quickly around your waist as you were pulled into a broad chest. Your eyes opened cautiously to meet the familiar red sweater with a golden ‘F’ in the center.

“Fancy meeting you here,” your gaze shifted upwards to come in level with your boyfriend’s grinning face “Seems like you quite literally fell for me.”

Despite the panicked state you were in a few seconds ago, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Fred’s silly comment as he helped steady you on the slippery floor. It’s not even a surprise he is here, wherever chaos is Fred was sure to be found.

“Let me guess, you’re responsible for this.” you stated. Chaos and Fred in one place, it’s only reasonable to assume he caused the chaos rather than just be there. Fred confirmed it when his goofy grin turned into a smirk. A smirk matching those on George’s and Lee’s faces as they waved to you from where they stood behind Fred.

“We figured a spell to wax the floor without making it obvious,” he replied proudly “here, have some fluffy socks, they should do the trick.”

Of course, it is never possible to spend a single boring moment when these three are around. “Wax the floor don’t you think that’s k—”

“MR WEASLEY!”

The booming voice unmistakably belonged to professor McGonagall. You felt the little hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

It won’t be hard for her to figure what was going on, and despite usually living up to their pranks, the trio was in serious trouble this time. It’s not even about this silly prank, it’s more about the amount of trouble they get themselves into.

These three had been getting into plenty of trouble lately. Some Slytherins think it’s funny to tail after them and inform the closest professor about their newest prank. The number of house points they lost was horrifying. It even reached the point where they were threatened that if they were found causing more trouble, they’d be forbidden from joining any quidditch activities till the end of the year. So they agreed that if they ever got caught again, the first action of defense is to escape.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see George and Lee taking baby steps away from the scene to avoid getting into trouble, leaving you and Fred into the direct line of fire.

Fred, whose arm was still wrapped around your waist, tried to retreat as well, dragging you with him before McGonagall’s figure is close enough to prevent your escape. And it would have worked, had it not been for your clumsiness.

You managed, with the help of the waxed floor, to trip over your own feet. This time no one was there to break your fall. You fell face first dragging Fred and a couple of the standing students along with you, leaving you trapped under a mass of bodies.

By the time you recovered from the fall, professor McGonagall’s stern face was towering over you, wand in her hand, and the ground beneath you had lost its waxiness.

“Care to explain, Mr. Weasley?”  

It’s common for you to not be one of those held responsible for such chaos. You were always known to be the goody-two-shoes. The model student, one who’d never cause any trouble.

It was even a common wonder to Hogwarts how you ended up with a trickster like Fred. No one had any idea that sometimes, you would be the mastermind to one of the trio’s pranks. Only a select few knew that you could cause a lot more trouble than Fred could.

But now, Fred was the only one around to blame for the complete chaos and the coupe of minor injuries caused by the silly prank. You know there’s no way for him out of this one. He’d be prevented from playing quidditch.

The thought filled you with an uneasy feeling. You know how much he loves the sport, separating him from his broom was like taking away part of him. And a glance at your boyfriend’s face was enough indication that he is thinking the same.

“It’s my fault!” you said before Fred could open his mouth to speak. Now, you aren’t any good at lying, and McGonagall wouldn’t just believe that a ‘perfect’ student such as yourself could cause so much trouble.

You slowly reach for your wand and hold it up. "I was trying to practice a new spell but it went wrong.”

You definitely are not a good liar but you had no choice here. Lying is your only way out of, or rather, into trouble.

“See, professor?” you said with a shy smile “Fred was just trying to help me… I’m sorry for causing trouble.”  

If your lie wasn’t obvious, then the incredulous look on Fred’s face was enough evidence that you’re lying. It was very clear to McGonagall you are trying to get your boyfriend out of trouble.

A brave move. And if McGonagall admired anything in the world it is small brave actions like this.

You could see a tiny smile on her face. She can call you out for your lie and punish Fred. But she couldn’t bring herself to let your effort go to waste.  The only downside? Someone has to be punished, especially because of the audience of students watching the scene, and you choose to be that someone.

Detention is boring, a complete waste of time and energy. But you’re thankful McGonagall was going easy on you. Having detention where you just sit around practicing transfiguration spells over and over again is so much better than any other outcome that could have taken place.

Though if Fred thinks he’s off the hook after this, he’s dead wrong. How dare he get himself into enough trouble that you’d have to go through detention to save his ass. You’re going to have to watch over him, he can’t get into any more trouble! And you just want to spend more time with him.

Your train of thoughts was rudely interrupted when a loud knock sounded at the closed door of the almost empty class. As McGonagall got distracted by whoever’s at the door, you caught movement through the corner of your eyes.

You shifted your attention to where the movement came from to see Fred waving at you from behind a statue placed at the far corner of the room, a wide grin covering his face as he motioned for you to come over. You mentally facepalmed, this is only getting you into deeper trouble.

You slowly inched closer to where your boyfriend was hidden out of McGonagall’s sight. He waited until you were close enough to pull you into him behind the statute.

“What are you doing? We’ll get in trouble?” you whispered as he crouched to the ground to pull on an almost invisible trap door. “What the hell?! When did this get here?”

“Shut up, you’ll get us caught!” he whispered back as he helped you down through the trap door and jumping in after you.

You walked through a dark tunnel the only light coming from Fred’s wand. You mattered a quick ‘Lumos’ to allow yourself more light. The walk wasn’t comfortable; the space was cramped and dark and completely unfriendly. Only kept moving thanks to Fred’s encouragement until you noticed another source of light ahead of you. As you walked closer you could see another trapdoor wide open above your heads.

As you walked closer, you noticed a hand reaching down to help you out of the claustrophobic space and into a dusty classroom that seems like it has been deserted for quite a while. The room was empty, aside from you and George who was now helping his brother up.

You waited until George closed the trapdoor and pulled a small worn out rug over it before you turned to your boyfriend.

“Before you ask, yes, we used the map” Fred beat you to it as he started explaining their little plan to help you escape.

Lee acted as a distraction as Fred helped you escape, George was to help you out of the trapdoor and then leave to notify Lee that the plan worked.

Your goofy little boyfriend managed to come up with a plan to ‘get you out’ of detention along with these two troublemakers. It won’t be long before McGonagall notices your absence, but your detention was just for show anyway, you doubted she’d punish you for this.  

But this was still escaping detention and it’s something that you never thought you’d ever do. You never even got in detention before you started dating Fred. You were never a saint, you liked to do be a little mischievous sometimes, but you always managed to keep your front as the model student.

But now, your beloved boyfriend was slowly turning you into a troublemaker as well, but you couldn’t say that you didn’t enjoy every exciting moment you spent with him.  

Masterlist | Share thoughts with me ☺

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

The sound of miniature droplets plummeting against the thin window glass disturbed the fantasy your mind had fabricated to ease your inebriated senses. As the noise gradually increased in volume, you were no longer able to sustain the blissful amnesia that came packaged with the state of dreaming. With your mind slowly registering the reality you sought to escape, a gentle groan vibrated in your throat, prompting your enflamed esophagus to sting. When you sought to lift your heavy eyelids, your lashes, still marked with the mascara from last night, stuck together with invisible glue and dried liner.

The disastrous evening with your new Brazilian friends could easily be traced from the smudged makeup clinging to your pillow, to the sweet liquor that lingered on your lips. There were dozens of physical reminders, and the ache rippling through your temples was simply the cherry on top.

Surely, your actions may have cost you a favourable impression with your potential colleagues, but you could care less about that. There was only one thought – one inquiry, that was plaguing you…

Did he call?

A calculated glance was tossed in the direction of the bedside table where your phone was laid. The unlit screen mocked your increasing heartrate, wrongfully labelling you as a coward. Peering down at the device, you quickly tapped the screen to see if there was a notification from your fiancé.

There wasn’t.

To label your reaction with one descriptor would be to downplay the concoction of emotions currently eating away at your stomach. You did threaten him, so why would he respond? Maybe after hearing the message, he presumed you would be far too angry to speak with him. Or maybe… he just didn’t care. The questions continued to sprout, even as you went to the bathroom to tidy yourself up.

What you despised the most about your current predicament was the insecurity your fiancé’s deceitful behaviour had planted inside you. Questioning his love was foreign to you, but after discovering his supposed relationship with the blonde and the lies that were used to conceal it… the seed of insecurity bloomed into a monstrous weed.

After brushing your teeth, you secured your hair with an elastic, allowing a few strands to remain free, and framing your face. At least now you appeared collected on the outside, even if there was a battle ensuing on the inside.

An elongated sigh parted your lips as you exited the bathroom connected to the guest quarters. What you needed now was a pain killer and maybe a hug.

“Tooru, can you believe this little shit? He didn’t call me … back.” The final word of the sentence was barely audible, as you struggled to comprehend the visual ahead. Sat at the small dining table, accompanying the former captain was no one other than Miya Osamu. The pair appeared to have been engaged in friendly conversation before your arrival. You had never considered them to be friends, and yet in this moment, they appeared to be the closest of comrades, sipping away at their lattes, with gossip keeping them occupied. “Wow. I don’t know which one of you I should fight first.”

“Hi, y/n. You know Miya, right? He’s that guy from Japan, owns that little onigiri shop that everyone is obsessed with.” Oikawa flashed an innocent beam in your direction, his caramel irises twinkling with confidence. The threat that was posed did not elicit a reaction, rather he was satisfied by the relief he instantly saw register on your features when you spotted the cook. Your reaction had confirmed that he was right, and he fully intended on gloating about this later in the group chat.

Beside him, Osamu nervously shifted his gaze from the mug snug against his palms to the one person he was frantic to see. A small smile draped along his lips as his heart thrashed against his ribcage. God. He missed you.

“Oh no. I have never met this guy in my entire life.” Crossing your arms over your chest in a protective stance, you mentally scolded yourself for displaying any signs of happiness. But the sarcastic edge to your retort only brought your best friend to expel a chuckle.

“Oh, well then I guess I should leave you potential lovebirds to get acquainted.” The volleyball player brought the ceramic piece to his lips, finishing the remainder of the drink before lifting his weight from the seat. His job was complete, what happened next would depend on the two of you. “I’ll be back later in the evening. Be good kids.” Before stepping away from the table, Oikawa shot Osamu a quick glance, communicating a silent warning - “good luck, and don’t fuck this up”.

In hindsight, if you were tactical enough to not fall prey to your insecurities, you would have realized what your friends were hiding. The signs were all there – your best friends had never let you down, they were always there, prioritizing your happiness. Guilt hovered over your chest as you watched Oikawa fetch his keys and exist the apartment. The instability of your romantic relationship should not have bled into your friendships.

“Y/n.”

The sound of your name on his lips mimicked a physical blow, it was a reminder of just how much you missed him – how much you loved him… and how much he hurt you.

It appeared that while your attention was on the dramatic exit of your best friend, Osamu had seized the opportunity to approach you. He was now stood fairly close, and the sudden change in proximity surged electricity throughout your nervous system. Naturally, your first impulse was to wrap yourself around him, it was the same impulse that was cursed upon you after you both shared a kiss all those years ago. But the circumstances today rightfully compelled you to restrain yourself.

“Still want to fight me and my stupid face?” He proceeded another cautious step forward; the hesitation in his movement, evidently grounded in his fear of upsetting you.

The teasing remark from the former volleyball player brought your eyelids into a questioning squint. A gentle smile could be traced along his mouth, prompting a sea of butterflies to enter your abdomen. To combat the sensation, you reached out and captured his face with your fingers. But to your dismay, even with his features squished, the younger twin’s face was stupidly adorable. Frustrated with the result, a little growl was given to the male, and when he blinked down at you curiously, the sound morphed into a suffocated squeal.

“Annoying!”

How could you fight him when all you could feel was love? It was pointless.

Releasing his face from your hold, a string of curses were mumbled under your breath as you sauntered past him, before launching yourself onto the couch. Once situated comfortably, a decorated pillow was dragged onto your lap. It served as a distraction from the conversation you were dreading to have.

“You know, I miss you too.” Osamu exhaled the confession, turning himself to face you. He anticipated some hostility, and he certainly deserved it. But his torment laid in the fact he could not console you, knowing that he was the source of your pain.

And little did you know that he too was struggling to fight the same invisible force that always led you back to each other.

“No shit.” Two fingers were pressed against the bridge of your nose as you sought to untangle the web of emotions his presence had created. How were you to react? What were you to say? What was appropriate under the circumstances was ridiculously unclear.

Osamu, who was battling with similar mental inquiries, abandoned his anxieties seconds after hearing your response. Advancing closer to the couch, he crouched down in front of you then began vocalizing the apology that he owed you weeks ago.  

“Y/n, I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry I lied, and that I hid things from you. I wish I could take it all back. I love you so damn much.” Tilting his head just the slightest, he sought to secure your gaze to indicate his sincerity, but you tactically avoided it, continuing to pick at the fuzzy fabric of the pillow.  “I want to fix this. I want to fix us. I don’t care about anything else. I just need you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to you.”

The promises spilling from his lips were surely enticing, but what did they mean now? When you could no longer trust them?

“This isn’t something you can just fix. I trusted you, I trusted our love and you… showed me that was a mistake.” The ferocity behind his words compelled you to rip your attention from the decorative piece, and once it landed upon him, your chest constricted uncomfortably. How could loving someone hurt this damn much? “And all of a sudden I’m here stuck with all these worries because you couldn’t be honest with me, ‘Samu. I don’t know how many times you lied to me. Or if there were other girls.” The latter half of your response contained a small crack, demonstrating a level of vulnerability you had instructed yourself to conceal. This wasn’t like you. It wasn’t. “I don’t know if you even really love me. Or if this is just something you got comfortable with, and you’re afraid to let go.”

But you hoped it wasn’t that. Oh, you really did hope it wasn’t the case.

“There weren’t any other girls, y/n. I fucked up and I’ll apologize for the rest of my life if I have to. But you couldn’t be more wrong.” He knew you were hurt, but the consequences of falsehoods had only dawned on him now. It destroyed your confidence in him, and in his love towards you.

His resolve to maintain distance no longer stood as a barrier to claim your hands in his own. Lacing your fingers together with his, he shook his head, hoping to dispel your insecurities. “I could never not love you. I don’t care how many years it’s been. I loved you then, and I love you now. If you will only believe one thing, I need you to believe this. I knew you were my soulmate the day I kissed you in the classroom. I never doubted that since then, y/n. I’m so sorry I hurt you.” The apologies were conveyed in a pleading manner, even if you chose to reject them – he needed you to understand that he meant every word. “If you’re not ready to come back home, it’s okay. I’ll wait. But I won’t give up on us.” Without severing eye-contact, he brought your hands to his lips, applying a few kisses to your knuckles. “I love you, y/n.”

“Shut up.” There was no denying his sincerity, and right now, in your hungover state, you could no longer command yourself to dismiss his apologies. Removing the pillow from your lap, you curled your arms around his torso, transferring your weight from the couch onto him. Osamu quickly adjusted, carefully settling into a seating position on the ground as you hid your face in the crook of his neck. He instantly tightened his grip around you, placing one hand at the back of your head and the other on the small of your back. The warmth emanating from him, served as a remedy to the pain infecting your heart. You knew there was much more to be discussed, as you stated before - there was no easy fix. But his apology was a starting point, and right now, what you needed more than a fight was his love. 

Let’s do it again, shall we - insecurity 

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A/N: I am so sorry this took forever!! 

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[whump-town]

Lie to Me

Chapter Two

Warnings:

Chapter One

It’s not as bad as it looks.

Derek Morgan stands in place, his right hand coated in a drying layer of the foaming pink blood Hotch had choked up. He’s staring ahead, eyes growing an unfocused haze as his body and mind struggle to keep pace with all that’s just happened. No nurse has stepped in to remove him, medical staff simply navigate around him. It’s violating, it feels like he’s being given a front-row seat to a trauma no one’s supposed to witness. Unmoving, he’s unable to look away. Tears start to cloud his vision but someone has to stay. Someone has to see.

The catheter that they use to suction his mouth is clear. The tubing long and spirally, the room’s occupants able to see the sea foam blood leaving Hotch’s lungs. He’s sat up on the stretcher, shirt cut-off in a long simple swipe. Left to be packed into a bag, the once white fabric speckled in pink. There’s a cloth against the upper section of his chest, catching drool and blood that the doctors miss with the tube hunting the corners of his mouth. Hotch heaves, producing nothing from his empty stomach than acid and thin, soft pink spit. He twists away from the catheter, sucking in wet wheezing breathes. Sounds like he’s breathing through a straw, waterlogged and thick.

A nurse directs Derek closer to the bed with a hand on his bicep, her kind words of encouragement going over his head as he pulls his shell-shocked body closer to Hotch’s. That whispered, useless comment bursting through the space between them. It’s not as bad as it looks. Derek finds that incredibly hard to believe, no matter how neatly they wipe Hotch’s mouth and rid the space of blood-tinged rags.

He’d sat in the ambulance for ten minutes listening to Hotch choke on blood. Heard the EMTs warning the hospital about a pulmonary aspiration, watched them debate intubating Hotch while he was still conscious enough to writhe on the stretcher. Trying to pull his body away from the steady hands placing an IV, to sit up and get away from them. Derek could do nothing, had been forced to

It’s not as bad as it looks. He’s assured, taking the thin, uncushioned chair at Hotch’s side. Close enough now to see the pink of Hotch’s dried blood on the side of his cheek. To hear the wheezing breathes he’s taking, quick and shallow. His eyes dart underneath his eyelids, fingers jerking as he struggles to find comfort trapped between awareness and the bliss of unconsciousness.

One week after his diagnosis he had a panic attack. Not the sort he could hide, as he’d hidden many, but suddenly just the full force of his life hitting him centerfold and buckling his knees from underneath him. Jessica had Jack in the kitchen, the two of them laughing as she made fun of his inability to cook. Jack eagerly agreeing, lacing light accommodations in their mix to make him the butt of their joke. Thoughtful and grounding. He listened to his son try and recount at least one meal he hadn’t ruined by burning it. He’s gotten way better at cooking but for a few months, they survived off of chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese (that he could never get the shells to soften entirely), and frozen vegetables. Off of the kindness (and off fear) of Dave and Penelope bringing pre-cooked meals over. Things he could keep in the freezer and just stick in the over.

He’d tilted his head back against the wall, laced his fingers through the strands of the carpet, and held on. Tried to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. Listened to Jack sticking up for him, “it wasn’t that bad” Jack pouts. And he’d managed a shallow smile, still choking on punched breathes leaving his parted lips. He’s Haley’s son, through and through. The only people who have ever stuck up for him -- even in the face of his awful cooking. Jessica found him on the floor twenty minutes later. Old tears drying on his face and new ones still dripping down from his eyelashes. He told her the truth when she asked what was wrong, took his burden, and brought her down with him. He held her as she cried into his shoulder and then he cried when she asked him to stay, not to leave her. She’s so tired of losing her family and he cracks a smile, thinks an awful little stabbing joke about how he’s the reason she’s lost her family. Haley. Her mother to a heart attack three months after Haley died. Now him, his own body betraying him.

It’s not that bad, he promises but all he can think about is his father. Lung cancer at fifty-three and dead by fifty-four. He’s only fifty but he’s still repeating the story.

We’ll do it together, she assures him but he’s already made sure that’s not an option.

“He’s so cold,” JJ whispers. She’s the only person who can stand to get close enough, who can penetrate the heavy sickness in the room to take his hand. To hold his stiff, cold fingers between her own. She looks over her shoulder, expecting someone to say something but finds them all in the distance. Unable to fully enter the room. Pressed to the walls. Eyes counting the tiles on the floor and making up the ceiling. JJ frowns sadly at them, not surprised but disheartened. She warms his hand between her own, trying to rub warmth back into the cold digits.

Jessica comes into the room, a storm of movement and noise that throws the silent contemplation of the room off. She looks around herself, frowning at the collection of them before rolling her eyes. She knows of the team intimately. For years she’s been listening to Aaron come home and talk about them and she’s grown to know them by means of her own exchanges as Jack gets older. They’re Aaron’s family and Jack’s other aunts and uncles, naturally she’s interested in them. That isn’t to say she isn’t annoyed with them. For the willing ignorance in Aaron’s rapid health decline. In the ways that they chose to appease Aaron rather than help him, can’t they see how much it is to make him happy with their ignorance rather than annoyed with their care?

“Derek,” she’s moving things around the room. They’ll be here for a while. His oxygen saturation is too low and his breathing is causing some mild concern that he might develop aspiration pneumonia. With his temperature still low he might be safe but even then they’re things are not magically better. “Will you please get his heated blanket out of that--” she points to the bag and nods when he goes to the right one. “Thank you.”

She takes control of the room, of the movements they make. Who stays when and who goes where.

He’s sleeping, probably will be for a while.

Around the third week of chemo, he started to understand the doctor’s warnings about fatigue. That, yeah, he might feel okay now and maybe he will continue to feel good for several more weeks but it’s going to catch up, and when it does he needs to be ready to ask for help. His current workload is by no means healthy and hardly sustainable for a healthy person, he’s going to have to make adjustments.

He’d started to feel the fatigue but not creeping in as he’d thought. One Wednesday morning he woke up feeling like he’d gone out drinking the night before. The sort of night Emily’s in charge of, where he wakes up in weird clothes with a haircut Emily gave him in the bathroom. It’s Wednesday, though, and his hair is intact. An awful headache and no amount of sleep were able to bring him to life.

His hours at the office got smaller, falling asleep at the desk and on the couch. He leaned to the explanation that he was just getting older. One sly comment about the grey creeping into his hairline spread unevenly and no longer contained to his temples, and he knew they were using the same safe answer. Making the journey from his office for coffee became a mental battle. He needed twenty minutes to prepare himself. Standing too quickly makes him nauseous. The chemo seemed to make every moment of the day, every complex thought, and all foods cause his stomach to twist threateningly.

Saline dripping above his head, oxygen hissing around his ears, and the warmth of overlapped conversations around him. He feels vacantly removed, left out of a loop that he can’t even tell what’s happening. Prying his eyelids open his hard, resolve weak and body too heavy. Weighed down, rocks tied to his hands. He can feel himself being pulled down through the stretcher. He can’t make his mouth work properly, lips parted in a hoarse groan. “W’as wrong?”

Jessica hears him, sees him waking up. His fingers twitching on the bed and his head lifting up off the pillows, searching for something without opening his eyes. Jessica decides to let someone else handle it, looks over the top of her book, and makes it clear.

Dave moves first, pen sliding into the pages of his book as he sits it down. He squeezes Aaron’s hand, smiling at the groan that leaves his mouth. “Shh, now,” Dave encourages. “It’s alright. It’s nothing, go back to sleep. You’re okay.” His response is another groan, slivers of brown iris’ finding him. “Back to sleep, Aaron.”

Hotch turns his head, “don’.” He pulls his hand back, agitated. He rubs the back of his hand against his nose, “not tired.”

Dave rolls his eyes, Jessica scoffs.

“Aaron,” Jessica, mercifully, leans forward to take the situation into her own hands. “Sleep.”

He groans eyes weighed down, body betraying his rebellion. “Bossy,” he rasps and Jessica just hums. She stands, smirking, and pulls his blanket back up to his neck. He does fall back to sleep, lulled under by the fingers Jessica passes across his hairline. Comforted by how tightly Dave holds his hand.

The medical staff advises and predicts a stay of about a week. They need to closely monitor his breathing for a little longer, prevent another episode from occurring. He spikes a fever and that gets him a few more days, his combative behavior doesn’t help. He’s resistant to the idea that anyone helps him and as his fever spikes it’s hard to comply to his request.

Here Garcia and Reid step back. They’re not… as prepared.

Emily doesn’t even ask when she walks into the bathroom where he’s trying to shower, talking to him about Stephanie from the third floor who was totally hitting on her. He’s shaking by the time the shower’s done, exhausted from lifting his hands up and down and from standing so long. Emily keeps talking, towel drying his hair roughly until he grumbles and then they laugh at the oddness of the situation. His hair is untamable and she gets a kick out of standing the ends up, spiking his hair into a mohawk.

Derek falls into step with him when the nurses come in to remind him of the three daily walks he’s supposed to take up and down the hall. He’s a person to lean into when Hotch starts coughing, an arm around his hips so that he doesn’t fall over. And when they wrap a fall risk bracelet around his hand Derek winces and Dave supplies “yellow isn’t your color”. Some days Derek is met with intense distance and other days they walk close, Derek’s arm already around his back, and talk about nothing, anything.

Dave brings dinner, not that Hotch is eager to eat it, but also popsicles of whatever flavor he could possibly want. He’s partial to Outshine, especially the strawberry ones, and it might not be food but it feels nearly right again to see him eating at least something. It’s a sensitive barrier, a hard line to play with knowing when Hotch just needs a little encouragement and when he just really can’t.

JJ brings movies. Her speed is action movies and Hotch is more into anything but that. So they take turns picking and usually pull punches so that the movie is something they’ll both like but when he’s feeling particularly ill, she’ll pick something awful. Give him an excuse to fall asleep during the movie and she enjoys as much, if not more than he does. An excuse to invade his personal space, cut the lights off, and lay beside him on the bed. She’ll paperwork up there, so relaxed she can zone in and out of what she’s supposed to be doing. He’ll look over her shoulder, reading case reports until he falls asleep or until she shuts the file and tosses it to the side.

These habits, these formations, do not stop when he leaves the hospital. Early. He leaves the hospital, too. Reid comes to visit on Thursday when the others are simply too busy doing other things. Resolve weakened and still shaken, Reid doesn’t last even phase one of Hotch’s plan to bust himself out of the hospital.

Derek is already at Hotch’s house, fighting Jack in the kitchen as they search through the fridge that Garcia’s just packed full of food. She feels ill-equipped to deal with everything, despite having known the longest. She feels guilty. She should have said something long before he got this bad, to the other’s so that they’d know, or to Hotch so at least he could ask her for help.

“Daddy!” Jack jumps up from the floor, running straight to his father before anyone can advise against it but Hotch withstands the collision, beaming down at his son. “I missed you.” Jack wraps his arms around Hotch’s hips, face pressed into his stomach. “Do you wanna help me put my puzzle together?”

They’re livid that he left but they don’t take it out on Reid. Emily won’t speak to either of them but she’s just too mad to hold a conversation. Derek helps him back to his room, Jack hot on their heels. It actually makes Hotch feel worse, being home and still unable to do things the way he wants. They get out of his hair a little more, there isn’t the same guilt associated with his home as the hospital.

It gives him a lot of time to think.

And he finds himself thinking about his father.

No one but Jessica knows the full story of his childhood but they’ve seen him shirtless too many times, know him too well not to have pieced at least most of it together. It’s not his best-kept secret.

He had been the kid that sat in the back of the class. Who never raised his hand, eagerly dancing in his chair, jumping at the chance to prove himself by means of validation from his teachers praising his correct answers. If they were reading aloud, rest assured he’d never have his name spoken by another classmate -- no one ever called his name and giggled in glee at his shocked and annoyed face like they did with one another. He couldn’t be certain they even knew it.

Logged with secrets of his short life, managing only the barest glimpses of life behind his dark eyes, he’d lurched and crawled his way to graduation. No more than a lifeless corpse dragging its reanimated form up and down the halls in its familiar pattern. Showing no signs of spontaneity, neither pain nor joy. Grey and slow.

It hadn’t mattered the silent prayers Hotch sent by way of hushed whispers just under his breath, Haley’s head tucked just under his chin, and the soft wisps of her hair moving with each puff of his breath. No matter how Hotch worked at integrating Jack quickly into as many social situations as possible, he had raised his son to be just a little bit too much like him. There are glimpses of Haley in the things that Jack does. Befriending Paul was leaps out of Hotch’s introverted ways and, more surprisingly, Jack’s.

Jessica’s sage words of frequently repeated wisdom disagree -- “he’s exactly like you, Aaron. The messy hair, that look he makes when he’s doing his homework… that’s all you”.

The little cowlick at the back of Jack’s blonde hair hardly speaks of anything more than Hotch forgetting to run a comb through it in the morning. Perhaps some validity points in favor of his paternity, after all it’s nearly the same cowlick he has. Neither one has tameable hair once it gets longer than an inch. Which does not leave a lot of stylistic options.

“Do you like the dinosaurs with the -- with the spiney -- What are they called?” As carefully as Derek had instructed him to be, Jack sits up by his father’s head. He’d crawled into the bed without invitation, he gets by with a lot these days, and Hotch can’t find it within himself to put those boundaries up between them right now. Jack curls up on his side, head on his father’s chest and a Triceratops staring at Hotch.

It had taken a year for cancer to kill his father and he knows that they’re right, he’s not the same as his father. His father smoked, heavily. Drank frequently and always too much. Didn’t have any friends -- and he finds himself snagged on this difference. Even as Derek throws his son up in the air, hauling Jack over his shoulder and making him shriek with laughter. As Penelope tries new recipe after new recipe of his favorite foods in the hopes that he manages to eat at least one. Not angry, not once, when he picks at the food the others shovel into their mouths. Singing her praises. Emily dragging him around on walks, slowly her pace to accommodate him. She never asks if he needs to stop, just does.

He has friends but sometimes he forgets.

“Daddy,” Jack pulls him back into the conversation. “Can we go to the museum? Uncle Spencer said there are dinosaurs everywhere.”

Hotch nods, “I can ask Uncle Spencer to take you.”

Jack shakes his head, sitting up, “I want you to take me.” He would have never demanded a thing from his father. Never once considered asking for something. Sean was allowed these luxuries, begging to be taken to a game or to the park. Jack pouts, leaning forward and tucking himself up against his father. “We can go Saturday? I’ll take a shower the night before, I promise.”

He’s been hospitalized for four days and Saturday is only two days away, it’s not enough time to recuperate. Not enough time to feel like himself but he can do it. He’ll invite Reid, it’ll provide a great distraction for them both, and that way there’s someone else to focus on. It’s just the museum.

“Okay,” he caves. “On Saturday.”

He’s got a family, people who can trust and who need him just as much as he needs them. He’s going to be okay.

[starshipsofstarlord]

‘Tis The Damn Season | Hamish Duke

Warnings; includes angst, implications of smut (not too detailed), breakup, heart ache, sacrifice, pain, and angst again

Based of ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift

If I wanted to know who you were hanging with 

Whilst I was gone, I would’ve asked you

Belgrave, home. For a while, you had thought that Hamish had served as that shelter, but the brick road broke, splitting the pair of you apart. It was as though the pair of you were ice, thawing over the time that the independent plan had been brewing.

This place, it was to be missed. It was a great step of a risk that you were to be taking, and so was the weighing of your heart. It felt as though it would be difficult to carry, it would remain with you, surely even after you crossed and exited the borders of the town.

Leaving overall, let alone him was to be exceedingly difficult, any attachment had to be released, like a bird from a cage. But birds in cages had routines, they’d be fed, and get affection, but this one wouldn’t. He’d just be abandoned, left to fend for himself.

The man that had been the only dream that had rendered your brain at night placed the guitar into the back of your car. He knew that it, what you had, was ending.

This was the end, and alternately not the one that Hamish had been expecting. If you were leaving university behind you, in the reflection of your rear view mirror, he would be left standing, alone and broken hearted.

It’s the kind of cold, fogs up the windshield glass

But I felt it when I passed you

“Goodbye Hamish.” It felt like a cruel lyric that would be used in a song, a line you’d harmonise on stage.

Getting into the drivers seat, you allowed yourself a first and last glance through the chilled glass, blinking away any tears that threatened to spill.

He was a good man, there were great things ahead of Hamish Duke. But none of that included you, this was his journey now, you had already made the choice of yours.

And this was the price of it, the freezing of your heart; the truest and purest love that you had ever felt. No matter, you had already paid it, and caused pain for both Hamish and yourself.

There’s an ache in you, put there by the ache in me

But if it’s all the same to you

It’s the same to me

Turning the ignition on, you proceeded to drive past everything that you had ever known, all that you had love for.

The smallest distance seared a wrenching ache within your chest. It felt like a punishment for putting yourself first for once, it made you concerned, surely it shouldn’t have.

The car’s slow pace had Hamish biting his lip, containing any of his avid disagreements to this. He understood your priority, respected it even, but none of that made watching you leave any easier.

If anything, it gave him an urge to turn and head to a bar or something of the sort. But he remained, his heart sinking lower as you got further from his line of sight.

It shouldn’t have heart him as much as it did. It was common knowledge that first loves weren’t eternal. Time would only help him accept that cruel fact, or so he thought.

So we could call it even

You could call me “babe” for the weekend

Hamish’s body was under bliss, he had found his solace once more. He fit perfectly upon your nude form, it felt like his soul was rebuilding itself.

But he had to remember that you were only here for the weekend, you’d soon be gone again. And he would fall apart all over, just like the first time.

“Babe.” The blonde moaned, his hands intertwining with yours, he had missed more than just pleasure from your entanglements. He had beyond missed the entirety of your being.

The name that you were keen to lap from the tip of his theoretical tongue was a misplaced comfort. It shouldn’t however have the effect of such comfort, not when the pair of you were claiming to have been trying your hardest to move past what you had once been.

It was an old and tiring routine, that you were prone to returning to. The sinful actions were bad for each of your mental health, but it felt right to argue against it.

 The wisest decision would be to forget Hamish, and every notion he inclined you to feel, but it was too difficult, especially when he had you seeing orgasmic stars.

‘Tis the damn season, write this down

I’m staying at my parents’ house

“Aren’t you seeing any old friends from university this Christmas?” The question was poised by your mother, she was far too concerned by the fact that since your arrival you had hardly left the house.

It was even blurred by snow outside, not too much to the point where you’d have to be shovelling it from the porch, but it was enough. It was beautiful, perfect for this time in the season.

In fact, you loved the snow. But the memories that bombarded your mind from the wonderful weather had your mind rolling back to Hamish, specifically how blue his eyes appeared amongst the frosted surroundings.

The thought had you sniffling, holding in a post breakup breakdown from your mother’s eyes. She thought you were sick, demanding that you get something for ‘that runny nose of yours, it could be contagious’.

And the road looks real good now

And it always leads to you and my hometown

The exact second that you entered your car, your hands sternly hit the steering world. Were you not allowed to follow your career through the workings of the world without punishment?

Because it sure felt that way, as though you were being a rebel in a war, however the battlefield was that of your heart. It was tearing slowly, and had been over the entirety of your hopeful escapade.

It cried regularly to be united back with Hamish, to its rightful home. It was suffering from separation anxiety from him, clouding the gaps in your brain and making them think about the tall, handsome man alone.

And the road taken looks real good now

And it always leads to you and my hometown

Every time that you were in your car, it felt like you were leaving home all over again, and Hamish would be standing by, with his upset aura, trying his hardest to keep himself together.

It was the worst feeling, knowing that exiting town was essentially the same as stabbing him in the heart. There was no feeling worse than knowing that you had hurt Hamish, you still felt more than something for him.

Whenever you’d come by of a weekend, which was every couple of months, occasionally each few, you’d take the pill of seeing him. But not too long ago, you’d realised how cruel the self invitation really was.

He had been growing used to life without you, and then you’d reappear, lounging in his bed, only to rip away from him and cause a terrible ache in his heart when you’d return to your performing duties. It was unfair, so you refused this month to allow him to know that you were back, otherwise the painful pattern would only continue, and there’d never be an end to it.

I parked my car between the Methodist

And the school used to be ours

Belgrave university was right beside the pharmacy, it only made you feel actually sick. The memories from the school were returning, there were so many of them, it was as though they were trying to anchor you in the snow as you stepped out of your car.

Almost all of them included Hamish, he was the main attraction of the university anyways. But perhaps you had stood there reminiscing longer than you should have, because it seemed that you had drawn some unwanted attention.

Hamish. He was walking from the entrance, a sombre expression had been held upon his face until he saw you. And then his face was rivalled with hope and confusion, you hadn’t informed him that you were back yet.

He’d already expected you to be returning for the holidays, mostly for your family, however, you hadn’t told him, and from the wideness of your eyes, the realisation kicked into his instinct. You had had no intention to.

But he continued to walk towards you anyways, trying his best not to smile and coo at the adorableness of your red nose.

The holidays linger like bad perfume

You can run, but only so far

The thought of making a leg for it, sprinting as far away as possible, or getting back into your car and steering away certainly crossed your mind.

This interaction was certainly not a miracle of the season, it felt like a curse, ascending from hell itself. You hadn’t wanted to see him, but the universe had interfered and made a collaboration.

I escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave

But if it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me

However every time you came and left, this building confrontation had been avoided, with you packing your suitcase for the umpteenth time, zipping each of your mouths shut and hearing nothing but the sound of the wheels rolling across the concrete of your family’s driveway.

Now, to contradict it all, the pair of you were stood upon even ground, it wasn’t outside of either of your homes, it was strangely the perfect place for this. And you found your dread slightly dissipating, aware that this was always going to happen, the road had just ended.

We could call it even

You could call me “babe” for the weekend

He was confused as to what to say or do. This was the first instance that he had seen you again in a place other than in his sheets, it was overwhelming.

“You haven’t been answering my messages.” His tone was calm, but in it, pain was presented, his sad blue eyes also justified that aspect of his aura. “Here for another weekend?”

It came across as less pleasant than he had anticipated, he was stressed to say the least. Something happened to him, it was out of the ordinary, he had wanted to speak to someone, and the first person that had came to his mind was you.

‘Tis the damn season, write this down

I’m staying at my parents’ house

Wringing your hands at the sound of his voice, it was visible that his presence made you nervous. That wasn’t what he wanted at all, he already scared himself after that sheathing of wolf fur wrapped itself around him and chose him as its vessel. His intent wasn’t to make you mirror his discomfort.

And so he uncrossed his arms, putting them into his trouser pockets and tried to look as relaxed as his exterior could fathom.

“I’m staying with my parents, it’s the holidays and all. Had to come home somewhen.”

And the road not taken looks real good now

Time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tires

But you knew, that it was all to return to him. That was the universe’s plan for you, if you ever tried to get away, it’d only force you to reconnect once again. There was no escape, and a part of you was not complaining about that.

The other however was outrageous, nothing could ever be easy, it all drifted down shore from the plan, the ultimate dream. Using your voice to sing was the goal, however here you were instead, mentally cursing and dragging the name of the planet through the darkness inhabited in your neurons.

Now I’m missing your smile, hear me out

And the road not taken looks real good now

Right now, all you wished was to stay. His smile was inviting you to do, and so you stepped cautiously towards Hamish, hands going to his face and pressing the pads of your fingers to his cold cheeks.

Snow began to fall, but you could care less. It already felt like there was a blizzard forcing to search for shelter, and here it was, in the body of this one man. He was different from the rest, he was your road, the one you wanted to continue on, rather than drive away from.

And it always leads to you and my hometown

Sleep in half the day just for old times’ sake

His eyes shut at the contact, it was far more passionate than the times you had seen him during your occasional visits. Don’t get it mistaken, the sex was great, however it was a coping mechanism, rather than a true example of love.

There had been something missing, at first you assumed that it was the lack of labels between the two of you, however you proved yourself wrong after realising that it was the proximity that the pair of you had once had.

The loyalty, the trust, the knowledge that the two of you had traded. It had always been mutual, and so was this heartache, it wasn’t fair for the pair of you to be apart, yet still suffering from more than the distance.

I won’t ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay

So I’ll go back to L.A. and the so-called friends

There was one singular thing that Hamish desired to ask. However it’d be a two way street of cruelness if he allowed it to slip. But if he gave it permission to leave his mouth, then perhaps it would be a different story.

Everything could go back to normal, the way things had been. Except from him of course, he was forever changed, he was the house to a creature so unbelievable, yet proven real, that he could not just dispose of it. That would end in his death if he were to split from this monster within him.

But he would also die if he had to be distanced mentally from you any longer. He took one long stride of his leg, cupping the edges of your face, and clashed the two of your lips against his own. The contact was hungry, needing to swallow any last breaths that could possibly be breathed in each other’s presence.

If he had it his way, he wouldn’t break the unison against you, however he had to, otherwise he would surely have to catch your tired body, not that that would be the worst thing in the world.

“Stay, don’t go again.” It fell, permitting a moment of silence in the air. This required thought, but the answer could be sudden, if it were, then that would be the true response that he was seeking. It would be an instinct to remain here, with him, at your home.

Who’ll write books about me if I ever make it

And wonder about the only soul

It made a sigh tumble from the hollow of your throat, as though you were shocked by his defiance and desire. However you were not, the grand query was to come to pass sometime, it had been eventual, until now.

He had finally ripped the band aid from the soreness upon his beating chest, and done so to your own. He had opened the wound, allowing it to breathe in the surrounding air, making your own hitch as you thought of an appropriate reply.

It wasn’t professional to be so swayed by his proposition, however, what about all that you wanted to accomplish? The career you were pursuing, the town of Belgrave wouldn’t be so kind to permit you the reputation you were seeking. 

“I don’t know what to say.” The truth left your lips, the mind that was being stalled by all the possibilities, the two paths that were duelling for your footsteps, was suffering from total confliction. There was no easy answer, either way, you were to be giving something you loved up.

Who can tell which smiles I’m fakin’

And the heart I know I’m breakin’ is my own

“How about yes?” He was desperate to hear it, the confirmation that you would remain with him through the tough time that he was painfully living through. Your absence, albeit how it was completely your choice, did not help the situation. 

Hamish needed someone that not only he could rely on and trust, but would help him. Somebody whom could keep him in touch with his human side, and away from the likening to alcohol that he had picked up upon now that he was legal to purchase it himself.

“Okay. I’ll stay for a little, but no promises to it being permanent.” You had been swayed by not only his engorging blue eyes, but also the pain, the pleading that echoed behind them. He was desperate for you to remain with him, and you feared for his mental health if you didn’t compromise.

To leave the warmest bed I’ve ever know

We could call it even

Even though I’m leaving

The pin had dropped, the choice had been made. The sacrifice bled out from your heart, the same red as the sheets that were currently around you. Hamish stared up at the ceiling, his hand softly stroking the skin of your shoulder.

“It’s funny, every time that we spend the weekend together like this, I tell my mum that I’m seeing an old friend from school.” The sound of your voice pursed a smile to Hamish’s face, he huffed a small, almost wolfish laugh.

“That’s kind of the truth, if you think about it.” He pulled you closer, placing a slow yet short kiss upon your lips, to which you reciprocated. This had been the best choice that you could have made, for not only the man nestled in the bed beside you, but also yourself.

And I’ll be yours for the weekend

‘Tis the damn season

We could call it even

It was both a selfish and selfless call that you had taken. One that perhaps one day, you would kick yourself for making, but right now, you held no regret to it. Hamish had been your first love, and fate had it so that he would also be your last.

“My mum would be over the moon to know that I was with you rather than one of the girls that I took bio with.” She had forever been fond of Hamish, even before the two of you had became an item. Even your father had a likening to the young man. The pair would pleased that the two of you were still in communications.

“What are we now?” He asked seriously, he had reeled enough answers from you for one day, however it was another thing that he would have liked to know. He didn’t merely want you to be his only over the weekend, he wanted it to return to the way it all was, before your first departure, he’d ensure that you had already taken your last ticket out of town.

You could call me “babe” for the weekend

‘Tis the damn season, write this down

“Us, I suppose. The equals to one another, as we always were.” His dimples showed at the clarity that you provided. Until he felt a pain in his back, it cracked up through his spine as he felt it begin again.

The dreaded transition, the curse was sparking to life in the worst possible moment. He needed you to be away from him, if he harmed you, then that would surely kill him. He couldn’t have a mark from his own hand upon you, it would be against his will, but the blood would have still been drawn by himself.

I’m staying at my parents’ house

And the road not taken looks real good now

Time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tires

Hamish’s sudden seating in bed had you frowning, your hand caressed his his shoulder, however he snarled at your touch, harshly shrugging you off from him. To say you were worried was an understatement, in the light of the afterglow, he had always been quiet and calm, but this was something you had never witnessed. 

If you believed in anything beyond this world, perhaps you’d have suspected he was possessed by something greatly evil and controlling. But they were all tales, fiction and fairy tales that were drawn into illusions and dreams.

“Are you okay?” He wasn’t, and if he didn’t get space from you, then you too would be suffering. And so he spat the only thing that he could think of to get you to spook, to run far away from him.

Now I’m missing your smile, hear me out

We could just ride around

And the road not taken looks real good now

“I’ve changed my mind. Leave!” It was as though he roared the words at you, and he had you in a haste to scramble for your clothes and leave his room. This wasn’t supposed to happen, none of it. But he knew that he had been too greedy, he couldn’t be alive with this horrible circumstance that was inside of him and have you. 

It may not have been fair, but it was the safest route. In the end, he had figured it out, you couldn’t help him with this. He didn’t want to tell you, he didn’t want you to know that he was a monster. 

You never believed in the supernatural anyways, and that was now for the best. It would make you safer, and more importantly, have faith that he was just a jerk, not some killer that hunted under the full moon.

And it always leads to you and my hometown

It always leads to you and my hometown

You had escaped from your hometown. But Hamish would always draw you back, one way or another...

[princip1914]

A few thoughts on writing longfic

I’ve had this post brewing for a while and I figured since today is a Friday I might as well let it out into the wild. 

First off, this is not writing advice. I don’t feel qualified to give writing advice. This is a few observations I’ve made over the course of trying to write something that feels, well, long. Fandom is full of excellent authors writing long chaptered fic, but I don’t see a lot of people talking about how they go about producing such fics. I remember feeling like long fic was really out of reach for me when I started writing again in the summer of 2019 after not writing for years and years and I wanted to talk a bit about how that changed for me. Of course, this post comes with all the caveats that there is no need to ever write long fic if you’re not feeling it. Some of my favorite authors write mostly or only oneshots! But, if you are interested, here’s my lengthy, self indulgent, and entirely personal take on ~the longfic process~ below the cut. 

First, to get this out of the way: long fic is anything that feels long or complicated to you, the author. “I’m working on my long fic” can mean that you’re branching out from microfiction to write something that’s 2k long, or it can mean you’ve got a multi-part 800k epic. There’s no objective measure of if something is “long fic,” Your own personal definitions can also change as you grow in confidence or change your focus as a writer (a little over a year ago when I finished Doubt Thou the Stars are Fire topping out at 31k, that felt very very long to me. Now it feels….still long, but not very very long.) 

Here are a few specific things that helped me write something long. I don’t know if they will be interesting for anyone else, but at the very least writing these down has been a fun way for me to reflect on my own process. 

Practice exercises. Ok, this is going to sound exceedingly obvious, but writing one shots prepares you for writing chaptered fic. Here’s what I mean more specifically: if you know you want to write (as a totally hypothetical example) a chaptered fic set in America in the summer that relies heavily on a nature metaphors, is written out of chronological order, and features a melancholy tone--it helps to write a few one shots like that before you embark on the Big Fic. Just like artists tend to do sketches before starting a big piece, it’s very helpful to write something small that gives you a feel for the ~vibe~ of what you’re trying to do in the long fic. It’s helpful for all the usual reasons--you get to know a specific version of the characters which helps plan out a character driven plot for the long fic--but it’s also helpful because you will learn if the tone and mood of the fic has enough staying power to capture your interest for the long haul. For instance, I have a few unfinished chaptered fics that have a humorous tone. I wish I had done more short humorous fics before starting them, because I would have realized that I don’t currently have the mental stamina to hold up a humorous tone for the length of a chaptered fic (hopefully that will change and I will finish Last Days some time this century!). 

Plan it out ahead of time. I used google sheets for The False and the Fair. I do not think God intended google sheets to be used for fiction, but that was not going to stop me. On a more serious note, I think the best tool for planning fiction is the one you’re the most comfortable with--the notes app in your phone, handwriting, word, google drive, sheets, chalk board, summoning circle, the blood of your enemies, etc. The reason I chose to use sheets is that I knew from the very beginning that I wanted certain things to happen at specific places in the story--for instance, I wanted the first kiss to happen at the end of the first third of the story and I wanted the “reveal” about the mine accident to happen at the end of the second third of the story. But, I didn’t know what was supposed to go in between those elements. A traditional outline for a story at this point in development might have looked like: 

Meet cute

Kiss

Reveal 

Ending 

But, what my brain needed was to preserve the blank spaces in between these story elements, and specifically to preserve the right amount of blank space between these story elements so that it didn’t end up, for instance, that the first kiss was halfway through rather than a third of the way through. In this way, I found google sheets an invaluable tool for pacing in the early parts of the planning process. I simply made 30 rows assuming 30 chapters, and started plugging in the elements I knew I wanted in the locations I wanted them. Then I filled in the blank spaces by asking myself “how do we get from X plot element to Y plot element in Z amount of chapters.” I’m not a mountain climber, but I’ve often thought about the first things that go into the spreadsheet in terms of mountain climbing terminology.  In climbing, a crux move, which can be anywhere along the route, is the most difficult move of the route: if you can’t do it, you can’t do the route. I think of the first things that go into the planning spreadsheet as the crux moves of the story, the most important pieces around which everything else turns. It was not an accident that those were also all the first scenes of the fic that I wrote; if I couldn’t do those scenes, I couldn’t do the story the way I planned it so I wanted to know early on if I needed to make changes.

Make changes if you have to: even though it helps to have things planned in advance, don’t resist the story if it tries to change on you while you’re writing it. Usually the feeling that you have to make changes stems from having a plot that is not entirely character driven. As you write the story, the characters reveal themselves and sometimes the plot has to change to change with the characters’ motivations. Here’s an area where fanfic writers have a leg up on everyone else: if you write fic, you already know the characters really well. That means, (in my experience anyway) it’s less likely that you’ll have a surprise character development which leads to a rethinking of the whole plot. Less likely, but not completely unlikely, unfortunately.

Lie to yourself: The False and the Fair was supposed to be 90k words. I thought that sounded reasonable, a little less than 3x the longest fic I had ever written. Now it's 161k and will probably top out a little over 170k. Ooops. But I never would have set out to write something that long. I wouldn’t have thought I could do it, even though anyone more experienced looking at my plans for the fic probably would have laughed at the idea I could cover all those plot points in 90k. Ignorance is bliss. Protect your ignorance.

Scrivener: Long fic for me means “fic that is long enough you can’t hold all the parts of it in your head at once.” That’s where Scrivener comes in (or another app if you’d rather, but I really like Scrivener for the ability to see the project either linearly or as condensed notecards). You can put together an organizational scaffold in Scrivener that allows you to move back and forth between the forest and the trees. So, for instance, you might be going for a jog and come up with the perfect line of dialogue for chapter 27 when you’re only up to chapter 5 in terms of writing progress. With Scrivener, you can go home, and put that dialogue in the “bucket”/index card/whatever for chapter 27 without compromising your ability to see chapter 5 clearly or muddying up your google doc. You can then use the fact that you’ve started writing bits and pieces of the later chapters in conjunction with the tool of lying to yourself that, actually, you’ve written a lot more of the fic than you realize and that when you get to chapter 27 it won’t be as hard as chapter 5 because you’ve put in the groundwork already. In my experience, this lie turns out to be true about 50% of the time, which is better than 0% of the time.

Digestible mini arcs: The False and the Fair was originally broken up into thirds. I thought it would be 90k and 30k was the longest I had written, so thirds seemed to make sense. Also, 3 is a nice, time honored storytelling number. I think it’s good to give yourself seemingly achievable milestones along the way to completion. These milestones (for me anyway) lined up well with the “crux moments” I’ve described. If you’re someone who likes to write out of order, writing your way to an already written milestone can feel like sailing to an island where you get to rest for a bit from the stormy seas before setting out for the next island in the archipelago.

“It's all part of the process”: I’m categorically incapable of describing things without resorting to running metaphors, and so I apologize in advance, but I am now going to do the insufferable thing of comparing writing a long fic to running a marathon. Here’s the thing with a marathon. You are not going to feel good every step of the way. We all know this. It’s a marathon, it’s supposed to hurt a little bit, especially at the end. In the same way you literally cannot write something novel length or even novella or long short story length without, at least at some point, feeling bad about yourself and your writing. But you also can’t run a marathon if the whole thing is agony, and for most people, it’s not--your meat sack shuffling along the course is subjected to the slings and arrows of all sorts of weird body chemistry that only happens when you push it to its limits. So, you’ll be in agony and then the endorphins will kick in for a while and you’ll be thinking “this isn’t nearly as bad as everyone said,” and then you’ll drink some water at a rest stop and feel like a God for half a mile before you crash and you’re in agony again until that one perfect song comes up on the playlist...and you get the idea. Writing something long, for me at least, is a bit like that. There are massive ups and downs. The key for me is to just understand it’s all part of the process, a necessary step on the way to the finish line. If the fic is 10 chapters long, at some point you have to write chapter 5. Just like you have to write chapter 5, at some point you also have to go through a bit of despair before reaching the end. It is unfortunately non-optional. In fact, despairing is something you can check off your list each time you’ve done it. Cut dialogue tags, check. Feel awful about my writing for thirty minutes, check. Write ending section, check. Often I feel that the stress and shame and fear that come with bad emotions while writing are worse than the bad emotions themselves. It really helps me to remember these emotions are all part of the process and nothing to worry about. If I didn’t have them, then I would worry! 

I certainly have plenty more to say about writing, but this ramble has gone on long enough. If you’re interested in any of this stuff, please feel free to send me an ask. 

I would also love to know more about everyone else’s writing processes, so feel free to pop into my ask box to talk about your own approach too! I am very interested in this stuff! 

[ratanslily]

Irreplaceable

pairing: bryce lahela x f!mc (Dr. Theia Valentine)

genre: angst but with happy ending.

about the fic: im just giving bryce's premium scene some closure ♡

inspo: this post by @ofpixelsandscribbles

a/n: I've never written for my mc before oof i hope i did her justice!! honestly this fic was so rushed (like all my fics lmao, i write on impulse, not meticulous planning and its a self indulgent fics so i dont rlly expect people to read because i kinds wrote it for my own sanity)

"We should do this much, much more often"

"Agreed."

Bryce looked around the on-call room. So much changed, the beds, the technology,  the lights... and maybe them. or maybe he was the one who changed.

Theia smiled and took his hand in his, beckoning him to accompany him back to the party. He slowly removed her hand away from his and took a step back. his face grew serious as he said,

"its.. probably not a good idea"

"why?"

"its just.. I don't know.. just go ahead, without me, I dont want to draw attention to us."

Theia could tell there was much more to Bryce's strange behaviour. Ever since they started their third year, she could see something was wrong with him, something was troubling him. but when they'd get intimate, all worries would go away and he'd get back to his normal self.

so what happened?

"so it's all a game to you, isn't it?"

"wh-what?"

"you don't need me.. you just want me to satisfy your needs"

"liste-"

"No, Dr. Lahela.  listen to me.", Theia raised her voice as her eyes started glistening with fresh tears.

"was it all a game to you? I thought we had something special.. something unique.. something homely.. when you dropped your fries just to kiss me..when you comforted within these same 4 walls, when we longed to feel each other when I was sick, when you walked me home after the funeral.. I guess I was a fool, I was just a distraction to you, wasn't it?"

she turned on her heels and made way to the door. Before her hands could even touch the handle, she felt Bryce's shaking hand on her shoulder.

"Theia.. please. please stay."

"what for?"

as much as she wanted to resist, she turned back to find Bryce on the verge of tears, with a face full of longing for her.

---

Bryce never hated anything more than the sight of Theia in pain. tonight, he made her cry.

He never meant to hurt her. but he always knew this day would come, especially since they started their third ywar of residency. He knew she and him would end up on different paths.

so why try? why grow close, just to fall apart? kiss, just to say goodbye? make memories, just to move on and forget them?

but he fell,  he fell hard for her. against his best wishes. he found himself caring more for her rather than himself. he found her tears as his own. maybe more painful than his own. when he found her alone on the floor, crying all by herself, he couldnt stop himself from comforting her, feeling the same hurt as she did. they grew closer faster than he imagined, but he loved every second of their relationship.

the day he saw Theia behind the glass walls, trying to reach for him, he aligned his hand on hers, with a glass wall between them. he needed her more than ever in that moment. that night, when he sat by her side, close but not close enough, he felt it.

he felt it surging thru his veins.

he felt love.

but he didnt admit it, for the fear of rejection.

he thought of himself as someone who was easily replaceable, someone who was just a second option to others, never the priority.

little did he know, all Theia wanted is, him by her side, no one else. She never thought of him as the second option, but as the only option.

---

Theia softened at the sight of him holding back his tears and silently cursed herself for being the reason behind his tears.

"im sorry for being so loud, but tell me one thing, Bryce. Do you even need me anymore?"

her words struck him right in the heart.

"if you dont have any answer, I'll go. I'll never bother you again.."

He looked right into her eyes, feeling more vulnerable than ever.

As the tears gently rolled down his cheek, he said,

"I need you, Theia. I need you by my side. I need you to be by my side at every moment of my day, not just at fancy rich parties, but by my side when i wake up to find you curled up in the sheets,  when I make coffee for us and you scoff at the amount of sugar i put in our latte, when there's something on my cheek during lunch and you offer to kiss it off. when i have trouble sleeping at nights and you offer to cuddle me until i feel safe. when i hate the movie you pick, and doze off with my head of your shoulder. I would always need you. But.. what if.. one day.. we don't need each other anymore?"

"what if one day.. say when you've completed your third year here and get a job in a place far away, away from me, away from us. what if there's no "us" anymore? what if you find someone better? what if one day, i end up badly heartbroken, if you ever do so? better keep my distance to lessen the pain, isnt it? Im replaceable, after all."

She couldn't believe the words he said, the feelings he was going through. She felt more horrible than ever for lashing out at him when he felt all of this.

She held his hand, and guided him to one of the beds.  they sat down together,  with her head on his shoulders. Tonight, roles were reversed, she was the one comforting him.

"I didn't know you felt all of this, and im sorry that I misjudged your behaviour."

she rubbed his arms, soothingly and continued,

"I dont know how to tell you this, but i can never go away from you, ever. for physically we may be apart but emotionally and mentally,  i find my home and my residence in your heart. I just-"

she took a deep breath.

"I just love you so much. I dont want you to drift apart from me. and from us. I maybe  a doctor and such sentimental stuff may sound crazy, coming outta my mouth but, I just want to make one thing clear."

she carefully removed her head from his shoulders and turned to look at him.

"Dr. Bryce Lahela, your name is engraved in my every heartbeat. Other people may try to change it, but I know they're gonna fail, as I don't love anyone else apart from you. Do i make this clear?"

Bryce's lips curled into his classic beautiful smile as he started to speak, but Theia cut him off.

"and you better not call yourself replaceable next time, or im gonna punch you so hard."

she playfully punched him, earning a hearty laugh from him.

"Now, now Valentine, would you give me the mic to talk?"

She nodded and he continued.

"I don't think I expected a love confession to be in the very room we hooked up, ans honestly its kind of iconic, though i expected a few roses and all that glam..."

".. but you're enough to make my heart leap with joy. No roses needed, no chocolates required."

he took a moment to choose his words,

"I may be good at giving prep talks and all that stuff, but wow, I suck at this. Its probably cause i never did this before.. so let me get to it.. I love you too, Theia."

Theia crashed her lips into his for a fulfilling kiss as they both shared tears of joy,  finally confessing their love after 2 years of pure longing and messing around.

"Whew, who thought these simple 4-5 words would be so hard to say?"

She simply nodded as she wrapped her hands around his for those precious moments of bliss and joy.

yes, the walls, the beds, the room and the infrastructure around them changed, but they were still the same 2 people as from before,  with the same love and feelings in their heart.

and no amount of change could ever change that.

[commanderserwin]

put your head on my lap.

↦ pairing(s): erwin smith x reader

↦ word count: 1.2k

↦ anon request: 

[plus] Then thinking hes fallen asleep you traced his face features and spluttered some bullshit about how you love him or described how you just love his eyebrows earning him to chuckle so you blushed all hellish red and playfully smack him on his chest/shoulder!!! (Yeah no dick sucking this time just pure bliss of heavenly fluff) (2)

↦ author’s note(s): for my erwin simp ♡ (i added something else too bc 🤩) i hope you like it !!! (ngl i couldn’t post this bc i had no proper title for it but here we are🚶🏻‍♀️)

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Erwin sat around the table, his hands clasped together as he listened the other soldiers voicing out their grievances. He’d occasionally write them down on his notes, nodding away, taking mental notes until the next soldier complains again. It went on until everybody in their table got to say something, which ended with their Commander sighing deeply. He could feel his body shutting down, exhaustion spreading on his body but he tried to not show it. Finally, they all stood and the meeting is finished. 

Erwin stayed there for a few minutes, just staring into the window, then back to the notes. He is so exhausted, sighing deeply here and there, his mind closing in and his thoughts buzzing with silence. 

If he could just take a nap, that would be good, he thought. 

Erwin finally pushed him off of the chair, dragging his feet to go back to his private office, carrying his notebooks with one hand. It was still the middle of the day and he is already swarmed with documents. He sighed again, turning the knob to his office, thinking: This is my job. I am the Commander of Survey Corps. 

That all vanished when he looked up to a familiar figure on his couch across his desk, someone flipping through a random book, tapping their fingers on the furniture. Erwin sighed loudly, hoping that they’ll take notice and it worked. 

╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾

You listened to the knob turn, smiling to yourself as you flipped through your book. He finally stepped in, sighing loudly— the usual thing he does when he’s looking for your attention and it always works. You closed the book, placed it underneath the couch, eyeing Erwin still standing by the door. 

He looked so defeated, so exhausted, that your smile almost dropped from your lips, ushering him forward while he leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead. You grabbed on to his jacket, pulling him towards you, while he lazily followed your kisses. 

“Busy day?” You whispered against his lips as he pulled away, brushing his fingers on your cheek.

Erwin only nodded, taking the space right beside you. He leaned his whole body on yours, while you squirmed underneath him in a feeble attempt to get him off. 

Tired Erwin is playful. He always wants to be with you, wants your whole attention on him, just have you with him, and all that. It always leaves you in awe when you see him during meetings, his brows furrowed in seriousness while he discusses strategies, and when the two of you are alone. He’s like a big clingy baby. Not that you’re complaining, it’s just a huge contrast to the one ordering soldiers around— then he here was. Currently using all his body weight to squish you. 

“Erwin,” you whined, feeling his cheek on your head. He tangled his fingers with yours, still leaning on you. He paid no attention on how you pinched his forearms, smiling away. “Get off of me, please.” 

“I’ll think about it,” Erwin whispered, closing his eyes. 

He could sleep right here and there, he thought. 

“Oh,” you squealed, pushing him off of you. “No! Do not sleep on me like that!” 

“How would you like me to sleep on you?”

“Not like this!”

He pulled away slightly, holding your chin as his icy blues stared at yours. There’s a small smile playing on his lips, as his lips brushed yours while he spoke, “Sleep inside you-,”

“Dirty!” You chuckled, successfully pushing him away while you blushed nonstop at the image and the feeling. Erwin caught on your blushes, chuckling softly as you pinched him again. 

“But you enjoyed it last-,” 

“Don’t say it.” 

“Night.” 

Silence. 

Erwin only smiled ahead, his shoulder rubbing yours. You looked up at him, arching your brow as you crossed your arms at your chest. He only chuckled, prying your hands away from each other in an attempt to hold them again. You didn’t budge, only tightening your arms together until Erwin sighed deeply, again. He pecked your cheek, then he laid down on the couch, his head laying on your lap. 

He reached up to cup your cheeks, making you look over to him, his thumb rubbing circles. You only rolled your eyes, letting him guide your hands again on him. Erwin yawned, closing his eyes, as he turned his head away. 

“Are you tired?” You whispered, brushing away his hair— his energy bubble ending as he yawned once more. 

“Yes,” he whispered back, opening his eyes to peek. He clasped your hand in between his as he closed his eyes again. “Will you wake me in half an hour?” 

“Sure,” you answered, resting your hand on his chest. 

He nodded on your lap, feeling his breath steadying underneath your touch. He nuzzled in closer to your touches when you began to brush your fingers on his hair. It makes him drift faster to sleep, feeling your fingers brush him as you softly lull him to sleep. 

You continued to brush his hair, knowing that he likes it. At times like this, you still couldn’t believe that both of you made this work, knowing at how much dangerous it is. Both of you are here, just basking in silence, being an anchor to each other. After years of hints and those shy smiles of his, here you are. 

Completely smitten with him, and your heart still aches at just the thought of him. 

“I love your stupid jokes,” you whisper, smiling to yourself, remembering how lame he was at the beginning. 

“And the way it would still make me laugh,” 

“I love how you make me feel so... important,” 

“So loved,” 

“Cherished,” 

“I just hope I make you feel the same way,” you whispered, fingers dancing on his skin. “Because you’re my everything.”

“The way your kisses would make me feel so complete,” 

“Or the way you would look at me like I am... that,” 

“Or how every time you hold my hands and I would feel so lucky,” 

“I still wouldn’t understand why you wouldn’t let me touch your damn eyebrows after all the things we’ve done,” you chuckled softly, your fingers slight grazing his brows. “But I still love them. Your stupid eyebrows.” 

He stirred in his sleep, lips quivering and nose scrunching. 

All the color on your face disappeared when he turned his head to look at you, his blue eyes staring intently. He smiled widely, making you pull away from him as you covered your face in attempt to cover up your blush. 

“You were awake!” You spluttered, feeling his chest shake in your lap as he chuckled loudly. You feel so embarrassed, hoping that the ground would swallow you whole while Erwin chuckled endlessly. “You were awake this whole time!” 

Erwin sat up, holding you in his arms, as you kept covering your face. He kissed you all over your hands, prying them away until he succeeded. He’s staring right at you, face red, the blush creeping in hot as you tried to pull away from him. 

“You love my damn eyebrows?” He asked, raising his damn brow, now that he got you to stare at him.

You looked at him, “That’s all you got from I said?” 

“Of course not,” he breathed deeply, his face contorted into seriousness as his hand traveled to your leg. You let him guide your body, his hand cupping the back of your thigh as he moved you to sit on his lap, your legs on either side of his. He rested his hand on your hips, while you wrapped your arms around his shoulder, looking down on him. 

Erwin pulled you flushed to him, his hands now resting on your back as he embraced you, feeling his lips travel from your jaw as he captured your lips in soft pecks. He pulled away, “Wrap your legs around me.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed, feeling Erwin lift you up as he padded towards his desk. He kept his eyes on you, his hands on your thighs as he gently placed you his familiar desk. 

Oh, the times he’s made a mess out of you on this very desk, you thought. 

Erwin began to kiss you again, this time with urgency, his hands moving to cup your jaw, making you rest your hands on the table to stabilize the both of you. 

He smiled against the kiss, making you do so, his hands now busy unbuttoning your blouse. You let him, loving the way his calloused fingers brushed your chest as he took his time. Until he pulled away, his eyes looking down on his desk. His eyes flitted towards you and the papers, curiosity painting his face. 

“Oh,” you mentioned, sitting up straighter to point at the papers, “They told me to give it to you.” 

“More work?” He groaned, resting his forehead on your shoulder. He sighed against your skin, kissing your bare shoulder as lifted his head up again. 

“Sorry, Commander,” you feign a frown, patting his shoulder. 

“I’ll work on them later.” 

“Why not now?” You asked, your fingers automatically buttoning your shirt up, but Erwin stopped them. 

“Later,” he breathed deeply, holding your hands. “I have you now and you expect me to work on those now?”

“Okay, okay,” you nodded, flustered, feeling his hand on your back as he places you gently on his desk. 

Erwin mumbled against your skin, as you listen to him list all the things that you just said to him. He nibbled on your skin every time he exposes more of yourself to him, his lips making small and tender kiss on your chest and stomach. He looked up, leaning in again to kiss you. 

It was hot, rough, and urgent, his lips capturing your lower lip, while both of you breathed heavily, flushed against each other, his hand guiding your leg to wrap around him. 

His work no longer instilled in his mind, but only you, you, you. 

╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾

Then, everything stopped. It was quiet that you could hear a pin-drop. 

Somebody knocked on his office door. Then again. You punched Erwin on the shoulder to knock him out of his own surprise, eyes widening to get himself off of you. His fingers fumbled with the button of your shirt in a hurry, redoing the wrong one where he inserted it on a wrong one. You pushed yourself off of the table, as you fixed your hair and jacket as Erwin quickly buttoned it up. 

“One second,” Erwin loudly said, his lips in a tight line. 

Both of you can’t be caught. Not like this. You chuckled against his body, and he immediately looked at you. Erwin smiled down at you, never missing a second to kiss your lips. 

“Not funny!” He mouthed, his damn brows furrowed by the smile on his lips displayed widely.

You have to push him away, when you felt something brush on your thigh. 

“You’re hard,” you mouthed, pointing at his trousers. 

“Yes, I know,” he muttered, pecking you one last time. He squinted his eyes as you quietly chuckled, gently getting off of the table as he helped you so. 

“Quick,” you patted his shoulder as he fixed his clothes. Your hands immediately went to his bolo, fixing them while he did his hair. “Cover it up with the documents.” 

He nodded hurriedly, as both of you try to find a realistic position to stand. 

“Commander Erwin?” 

“Wait a minute!”

“What am I going to do?” Erwin asked, looking down on his pants. 

“Why are you asking me?” You replied, fanning yourself to calm yourself from the kissing and from the trouble of being caught. 

“You did this!” Erwin seethed, looking around inside his office. 

“Why, thank you!” You smiled, glancing up at him. You pinched his arm, and pointed at the door. “Let them in-,”

“Have you found them, Arlert?” 

Both of you stared at each other, familiar with the voice on the other side of the door. 

“Oi!” Levi knocked, his loud voice echoing in the tensed room, “This kid’s been knocking on your door for a minute now!”

None of you talked. None of you even breathed. Erwin hung his head low, chuckling quietly, as he covered his blushed face with the papers that he was holding. You chuckled alongside him, leaning your head on his shoulder while he wrapped an arm around you. Both of you couldn’t even hold it anymore, your laughters echoing in the room, fully knowing that Armin and Levi could hear you two. Erwin blinked down at you, smiling widely to see that you were laughing in his arms. Erwin could feel his heart clench, ready to burst into never ending butterflies, his thoughts echoing back to what you said earlier— making him smile wider as he could. 

“You two better be dressed.”

[katie-writes24]

Fell Into The Same Arms

Pairing: Thomas Jefferson x reader

Warnings: Language, implied material, angst, a sliver of fluff, and injured reader.

Part 2

You know what, this is on me, because I was on Pinterest YET AGAIN and came across prompts that made me want to vent!!! So here is this!! Also, I’m really struggling with this one WIP and I jsut wanted to post soemthing, so I don’t even really know if this is “finished” yet. Let me know if you want to be tagged, and give me some feedback. I apologize in advance if I hurt your heart! But...it’ll be worth it I swear!

Rain was in the forecast the entire weekend, and it didn't seem to stop anytime soon on Monday. It took a toll on traffic, that was for sure; the roads were starting to flood and the bus routes were changed unexpectedly. The streets were in no shape for anyone to be out.

But Y/N didn't pay no matter to that. Instead, she kept walking, despite the throbbing in her thigh and the blisters on the back of her heels. She ignored the piercing feeling in her back when she tensed. That pain in the back of her head: didn't bother her. Not now, not when she's in the wet streets alone at night, having someplace to be.

Another lie. It was someplace she needed to be, and maybe she wasn't welcomed, but she had no other option. Every other door that used to be open was now closed after comments like you're better than this and don't come crying to me when I'll only say I told you so were thrown at her.

Y/N should be getting her keys out to unlock her apartment door, heading to the shower and ignoring the worried cries from Hercules. She could even be knocking on the screen door and letting Eliza draw her a bath while they sipped on hot tea. Hell, she was even considering jumping the gate and climbing up to John's window and letting him hold her as she cried herself to sleep.

What was she doing instead? Knocking on the hardwood door in front of her, not knowing what the outcome ahead would be.

Seconds felt like hours before the door was opened quickly, only going so far as the small chain up top would let it. She was met with brown orbs, in a flash they were wide in shock.

She couldn't blame him.

She could only imagine what she looked like, it obviously wasn't a pretty sight if the feeling in her bones had any say in it. But something told her that her appearance was not why he had the reaction.

At this point Y/N believed that he was, in fact, in shock because it's still pouring rain and she can feel her limbs start to grow numb from the cold. He's still staring at her with that look...

"I didn't know where else to go," Her voice sounded raspy even to her, and she guessed it was loud enough for him to hear, considering he shut the door before the sound of a latch being pulled again was heard, and he fully opened the door.

He looked good; dressed in his pajamas, but still good, considering the last time she saw him. He looked fresh out the shower, and she took that as a sign that he didn't have company over.

Thomas hated leaving people waiting. Something they didn't share in common, apparently.

He stepped aside and Y/N didn't waste a second before stepping into the warm house.

"Just- wait a second," Thomas walked down the hallway, soon returning with a towel that he laid across the floor. "Don't want to ruin my floors."

She snorted. Still the same stuck up she remembers. "Could you spare one for me, you think?"

"I was actually going to offer you a shower, and maybe help you patch things up. Looks like you need it," He gestured to her head, which had a small gash, or at least that's what it felt like.

"That'd be nice," She cleared her throat once more, removing her shoes. She stopped after stripping of her jacket, standing awkwardly and hoping to give the man a hint.

Instead, he scoffed and went down the hall again. "It's not like I haven't seen it all before. Just leave your clothes on the towel, I'll throw them in the dryer."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but did as he said. She quickly walked to the bathroom and stepped into the tub. It all looked the same, including the bottle of shampoo he bought her months ago, still in the same spot.

She cleared her throat, mentally shaking herself clear of those warming thoughts.

A few minutes after she turned on the water, she heard a knock on the door, his silhouette behind the curtain.

"I brought a towel, and some fresh clothes," There was some shuffling before he sighed loudly. "Did you eat? Can I get you something?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks," Y/N cut him short, trying to ignore his caring need that he normally hid from the public. She wasn't any different, not anymore.

"Well, knowing you, you probably had a large coffee this morning and called it a day. And I'm not quite sure what you got yourself into yet, but I'm sure it didn't happen over a meal." Thomas sounded so sure of himself, and damn him for knowing her so well. Her silence gave it away, and he soon clicked his tongue in assurance. "I'll make you something quick."

There was no resisting the water in her eyes. Pain expanded all over her body, she had an excuse. Plus, he couldn't see her get emotional behind the curtain, and there would be no tear tracks on her cheeks later.

It might seem odd to others, to those who see Thomas as a public figure, a politician. He carries power, and never lets anyone outside these doors see his vulnerability. To them, he is a man with high standards and a precise wardrobe.

But she knew the real Thomas.

He was sensitive, caring for others, acting like he was just now. The newspaper titles were full of shit, they didn't have any right to criticize him because that wasn't the real him.

Of course he was passionate about his job and position, but they didn't know what Thomas acted like in the morning. They didn't know what Thomas's favorite meal to have when he's had a long day was. About his constant need to have a book to read before he goes to sleep, no matter what time it is. About what he looked like when he was in complete bliss, when he was really happy....

No, Y/N knew though.

She reached for the shower handle, turning the knob on the cold setting. She finished up washing her hair as quick as she could, then carefully dabbed her body with a washcloth, avoiding direct open wounds.

Stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped in a rather large t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, Y/N found Thomas at the table. He was standing over scattered papers, rubbing his chin softly as he thinks to himself.

While he's distracted, she takes in the house, knowing she really shouldn't, it will only hurt her or, worse, make former feelings reappear. But she can't help but look over to the wall beside him, where dozens of picture frames line up in a pattern. Some are of his parents, some of Thomas and James, there's even a group photo of his colleagues standing before Washington. She remembers how excited Thomas was that day, to finally be getting the recognition he deserves.

She also remembers that there used to be a frame below it, one that held two photos of Y/N and Thomas, holding hands, smiling. She remembers that the photographer wanted their hands close to the lens, getting a good capture of piece of jewelry that looked so simple, but held so much promise.

Was suppose to hold so much promise.

Should she really be sad that he took it down? Y/N didn't deserve to feel angry or disappointed that it wasn't hanging on the wall, to be a constant reminder to anyone that walked by of what used to be.

"Food should be ready soon. I just put it in the oven to warm up." She jumped as she was released from her thoughts, Thomas now looking over at her.

"Thanks," He soon walked over to her, only feet away when he lifted up his hand. She instantly flinched, swallowing hard as she realized what she did.

Thomas slowly put his hand down, looking at her with wide eyes. "I wasn't going to-"

"I know," Her voice was shaky, but she held a hard expression, looking at the floor.

Nodding, Thomas cleared his throat before heading to the bathroom, moments later coming out with a tube of ointment. "Let's get you cleaned up?"

Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was just Y/N's luck. Whatever it may be, she would never stop thanking whoever was watching over her that she got to feel Thomas's soft touch once again.

Yes, maybe she'd like it better if it was under different circumstances, but she was appreciative of the light touch he had against her head, one hand holding it still while the other gently dabbed the cream against her bruises.

The quiet was disturbed when he winced at the scrape right above her hip. There was no hiding it; it was already layered in dried blood, purple outlining the crevice of the soon-to-be scar. Thomas shook his head slightly, and she didn't know if it was from shock or disappointment.

Once he cleared the wound completely, Thomas pressed his thumb against her hip bone, rubbing her skin in soothing motions. Y/N smiled sadly.

"Can you stop, for one goddamn second, and just talk about this?"

"I can't, Thomas! You don't understand why, but I just can't-"

"Do you know why I stick around? Do you care about what I have to say? Don't you know that I love you? I would do anything for you, Y/N, why can't you trust me on that?"

"I do! I trust you with my life, Thomas! That's the problem!" The room grew silent, Thomas forming a sudden frown, eyes teary.

Her own were wet, as well. Vulnerability was not her thing, so Y/N quickly turned around, not bearing to see his reaction.

Lost in her own self deprecating thoughts, she felt a hand on her hip. His long fingers began stroking her bone, her skin lighting on fire every under the fabric of her underwear. Somehow, the simple touch completely broke her, letting out a shaky sob. Thomas wrapped his free arm around her chest, grounding her. Y/N allowed her own arms to grab at his as she shook.

“We’ll get through it,” Thomas whispered, his own voice a bit shaky. “Together.”

There used to be moments where Y/N would allow herself to completely fall into him, would just let go of all the pent up frustration and troubles she had. Because she knew Thomas would catch her, she knew that he would let her release all of her worries for him to fix, and if not fix, just to listen. He would offer comforting phrases that would make her feel like the only woman in the world. He would physically comfort her, whether it was a bath or his touch or his body, he would take away her stress.

And no matter how many times Y/N would experience such ache, Thomas never turned away. Not once. Not even after all this time separated. And she knew damn well that if she did the same thing now, he would let her.

That’s what scared her.

She couldn’t do that to Thomas, not again.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Apparently, him knowing exactly what she’s thinking didn’t change either. His soft voice rang loudly in her ears, traveling all throughout her body. Y/N had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from breaking down.

“You can let go...” It sounded like a promise.

Maybe she could count on him to catch her again, even if it’s just this one last time.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!!!

@notebookgirl30 @dontblinkumightmiss @tinywhim @checkurwindow @einfachniemand @daveeddiggsit @ohsoverykeri-blog @astralaffairs @i-know-i-can

[dandy-writes]

The Graveyard (Crowley x Reader One-shot)

“Okay,” Dean whispered. “This is where we split up.”

The four of them were standing outside the now-opened entrance to a previously secure mausoleum. It was a November night, the cold driving itself through Y/N’s sweater as wind rattled the branches of nearby trees. They bleakly thought to themselves that the noise was not far off from what they imagined the clatter of bones might sound like. This was the first time that Y/N had ever accompanied the boys on a hunt, and their unease with this was only heightened by the tagging along of the King of Hell himself. He stood next to Sam on the right side of the doorway, across from Y/N and Dean.

“Someone needs to stay here and make sure that security guard doesn’t come poking around while Sam and I are down there finding Crowley’s ‘precious’ artifact,” The latter of the two continued. “Y/N, do you think you can handle that?”

“Yeah, probably,” They frowned slightly. “But… I mean, don’t you think I could handle going with you guys inside, too?”

“All the sources we found on this mentioned it having some sort of ‘guardian’ protecting it,” Sam replied, tone caring. “We don’t want you getting in harm’s way -- you’re not used to dealing with this kind of thing.”

They huffed out a sigh, breath momentarily visible in the air. “I guess.”

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll be here to keep you company.” Crowley’s words brought the attention of Sam and Dean, who glared at him with furrowed brows.

“What? No, you’re hauling your ass in here with us. No way in Hell we’re leaving you alone with them,” Dean said, voice raising.

“Alright, keep it down, Squirrel,” Crowley smiled. “I can’t go in there, remember? Any demonic presence inside will set off all sorts of magical alarms. Thought you’d recall, from the ‘sources’.” He looked pointedly at Sam, though his amusement was clearly not shared.

“Okay, then Crowley can stay out here and I’ll come down with you guys,” Y/N butted in, nudging Dean. He looked down at them, then to Sam’s expression of concern. Setting his jaw, he took a few steps towards Crowley before leaning down slightly and raising a pointed finger towards his face.

“If you touch a single hair on their head while we’re down there, I will not hesitate to hunt you down and tear you limb from limb. Understand?”

Crowley merely scoffed. “Come now, Dean. I’d never dream of hurting them.”

“Yeah, right,” Dean grumbled as he straightened himself up. Turning back to Y/N, he put a hand on their shoulder. “If he tries to pull anything at all, you don’t hesitate to call us, alright?”

They nodded, a mix of nerves and excitement pooling in their veins as they watched the brothers finish collecting all of their equipment and head inside the mausoleum, being careful to ensure the door was not fully closed behind them. Once they were out of sight, any sounds they made muffled by the thick walls separating them from Y/N and Crowley, an air of silence descended upon them. The awkwardness already pervading their thoughts, Y/N turned away slightly from the demon, taking a step off of the paved area circling the mausoleum and onto the grass of the graveyard itself. However, much to their dismay, they soon heard Crowley following after them.

“You know, darling, we don’t usually get time to ourselves like this,” He cleared his throat as he reached their side, voice maintaining a cautiously low volume. “What with the Winchesters constantly peering over our shoulders.”

“It’s almost like they don’t trust you or something,” Y/N remarked, causing the demon to smirk.

“What about you?” He took a few lopsided strides around Y/N, forcing himself into their line of sight. When they met his stare, he continued. “Do you trust me, kitten?”

Their expression, previously only mildly concerned, quickly morphed into a frown. “Well…” They paused, then glanced away. “No.”

“Really?” He stepped towards them, eyes narrowing. He brought his right hand to their chin, lifting their head so they were facing him fully. “You certainly seem to trust me more than the Winchesters do.”

Y/N, caught off-guard by his sudden closeness, merely blinked at him for a second before reorganizing their thoughts into a response. “That’s not a high bar to reach, Crowley.”

His smile widened as he chuckled. “No, I suppose it isn’t.” For a few moments, the two remained motionless, contemplating one another. Then, Crowley brought his hand back to his coat pocket and turned slightly, leaving Y/N to mentally reprimand themselves for not having moved away earlier.

After a minute or so of tense silence wherein Crowley watched a flock of crows take off from a distant tree and Y/N became suddenly fascinated by the grass beneath their feet, the hunter finally spoke up. “Why’d you come along, anyways?”

He turned to face them, brow knitted. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you knew ahead of time that you wouldn’t be able to go into the tomb,” Y/N reasoned. “So… what was the point?”

He paused before opening his mouth to speak. But before he could say whatever he was planning to, his focus shifted to a spot behind Y/N. “Bollocks.”

“What is it?” They spun around to follow his gaze, and quickly noticed the issue; the security guard who they’d managed to avoid when they first entered the graveyard was coming back around, and at this point he would spot them very soon -- if he hadn’t already. “Shit,” they muttered before turning back to Crowley. “We can’t let him inspect the mausoleum.”

“No,” He agreed. “We’ve got to make a distraction.” He hesitated before continuing, and Y/N could practically see the cogs turning in his head. “Darling, you’re pretty good at improvisation, no?”

They blinked. “Well, I guess--”

“Good,” Crowley moved towards them. “I’m going to prompt you. Whatever response you choose, I’m sure it’ll create a good enough scene to work with. Alright?”

“Okay,” They stammered as he continued his advance, backing up in response. “What are you--”

Simultaneously Y/N felt both their back hitting the wall of the crypt as well as Crowley placing his hands upon their cheek and waist. Their breath hitched as he leant in slightly. “Make your choice,” He murmured. His breath fanned against their skin, matching the heat Y/N felt spreading through their face. For an instant, they locked eyes, and Y/N knew they’d come to their decision.

Bringing both of their arms up to wrap around his neck, they pulled Crowley down into a kiss. He reciprocated quickly, his beard scratching against their face in a pleasant sensation, and Y/N found their pulse racing; they may or may not have imagined this scenario several times in the past, but the real thing truly exceeded their expectations. Deepening the kiss, Crowley pushed himself against them more fully so that they were trapped, the heat of his body contrasting with the cold of the stone behind them. The demon’s hand on their cheek moved to the back of their head, carding through their hair and causing their heart to leap. 

For a short while, it was bliss. But unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

“Hey! You two!”

Crowley was hesitant to pull away, but when Y/N slid their arms down to his chest and pushed him slightly, he loosened his grip on them. Painting an expression of shock onto their face, the hunter turned to see the security guard walking towards them down the path with his flashlight trained on them.

As he neared them, he stopped and put a hand on his hip. “Graveyard visiting hours are over, lovebirds.”

���What?” Y/N blinked dumbly before looking up at Crowley. “I thought you said--”

“No, that can’t be right,” Crowley interrupted, slipping his hand in Y/N’s as he did so. “What time is it now?” He glanced at his watch.

“Eleven o’clock,” The guard replied. “Graveyard closed for the night at ten-thirty.”

“Ten-thirty?” Crowley’s brow furrowed.

“You said it closed at eleven-thirty,” Y/N whispered, making sure they were loud enough for the guard to hear.

“Right, because it does,” His gaze turned from Y/N back to the man before him. “There must be some mistake.”

“Nope,” The guard squinted pointedly at him. “Ten-thirty.”

“You’re sure.”

“Positive.”

“I--”

“Babe,” Y/N hissed. Crowley glanced down at them, brows raised. They ignored this and started addressing the guard. “We are so sorry, we really had no idea.” They smiled apologetically. “We’ll be out of your hair now.”

The guard sighed, scanning his flashlight over the general area. Y/N prayed that he wouldn’t spot anything off with the mausoleum, and felt Crowley squeeze their hand lightly. “Well, you two seem innocent enough.” He looked back at them. “You haven’t seen anything suspicious tonight, have you?”

“Suspicious how?” Y/N cocked their head.

“Well, anyone else around,” He sighed slightly. “It is, after all, after-hours.”

“No, not that I can remember,” Crowley said, looking utterly exasperated.

“Well,” Y/N paused, trying their best to feign well-meaning uncertainty as their focus shifted between the guard and Crowley. “There was that group of kids earlier. Teens? You remember.”

“A group of teens. Where about were they?” The guard asked.

“I think they were headed that way,” They pointed at the clump of headstones farthest from the mausoleum. “Probably four or five of them. I didn’t think much of it, ‘cause, uh…” They gestured and laughed nervously. “You know.”

“Right,” The guard looked at the two for a few seconds, expression unreadable. Then he let out another huff and continued. “You folks better get going, now. Thank you for the heads-up.”

“Of course. Take care now,” Y/N smiled politely and turned to go back down the path, Crowley in tow. The two stayed silent as they walked, still holding hands, but after a few minutes this was broken by Crowley chuckling. They looked up at him. “What?” 

“‘Babe’,” He mimicked, causing them both to start laughing quietly.

“Hey,” Y/N said, beaming. “I was just playing my part.”

Crowley hummed in agreement. “And you played it very well.”

“Thank you,” They glanced behind them. “I hope that whole ‘teen’ thing wasn’t too suspicious.”

“No, no, it was some good quick thinking on your part,” He cleared his throat. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“Hm?” They frowned. 

“I meant before that.”

“The… the whole ‘we didn’t realize we were trespassing’ gimmick?”

“No, before that as well.”

Y/N remained quiet for a moment, eyes locked on the dirt path. Then a blush spread across their cheeks and they turned back to him, using their free hand to smack his arm. “Shut up!” He only started to laugh again, clearly amused by their dramatics. “You’re awful, you know that?”

“I try, darling.” Despite their harsh words, they couldn’t help but grin. “You know, I didn’t really expect things to go that way.”

“Oh?”

“No. I largely expected for you to slap me the second I got near you.”

They chuckled. “Me too.”

He raised a brow. “Then why didn’t you?”

They slowed their movement until they came to a halt, Crowley circling in front of them while still holding their hand. Finally, they shrugged. “I dunno.”

“You ‘dunno’?” Crowley smirked. “Maybe it’s because of my devilish good looks.”

“Crowley--”

“I’ve been told I have a naturally charming aura.”

“By who?”

“Several people, actually.” Y/N started giggling again, and Crowley took a step closer. “What, do you disagree?”

“About your ‘aura’?” They laughed. “No, that seems pretty spot-on.”

“So, if I were to, say, do this,” The demon cupped their cheek and leaned forwards. “How would you react?”

Y/N paused, before raising their head up slightly. “Probably the same way I did back there.”

That was all the encouragement Crowley needed to lower his lips to theirs once more. Pulling Y/N flush against him, he could feel them smiling against his mouth, and he was soon doing the same. This was one hunt that neither of them regretted going on.

A/N: Hope you guys liked this! I've got a few ideas for longer Crowley x Reader fics, but I have no idea how long those might take me. In the mean time, I hope I've satiated you all with this one-shot. :]

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 20 (Mafia AU)

Summary: Time for truth or consequences.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Cherryberry, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings, Attempted Sexual Assault

Warning:  Heads up, let me add a warning here for attempted sexual assault and violence.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

~*~~

Read Chapter 20 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

The rest of the drive back to the club was in silence and that suited Rus just fine. If were possible, he would be happier if he never spoke to Red again. The only sounds in that opulent, stifling car were the hum of the tires on the road, the gentle rattle of the glasses stored on top of the mini-fridge, and the long, slow exhale of cigar smoke throughout the entire, unbearable ride.

It seemed to take ages to get back to the dust bowl and Rus wondered dully where exactly Blaze’s house was. The only possibility was one of the Human districts; he should’ve guessed that before, considering there were certainly no houses that luxurious in their neighborhood. A mansion sitting amongst the local shacks would have stuck out like a single pristine apple in a rotten orchard.

He didn’t even know Monsters were allowed to live in the Human side of town. Certainly they’d had to fill out a lot of paperwork and paid plenty of fees to simply open their shop. Enough money probably greased plenty of wheels, no matter whose pocket carried it, and what did it mean that the Fell brothers chose not to take that route. That they still lived above their garish strip club, those elegant rooms built both by and atop the gaudy neon that housed the dancers.

Maybe it was only because it was safer to live with other Monsters, especially with the all the wards and security measures. Sure didn’t seem like Blaze had a similar setup, not if Red waltzed right in to—

Rus winced, forcing his meandering thoughts elsewhere. It was easier than he might have assumed. A glance through the tinted windows showed adult bookshops and scantily-clad Monsters standing on street corners, waiting for the first trick of the night. He’d been gone for most of the day, Rus realized, and tried not to think of his brother and how terrified he must be. They’d be together again soon enough, hopefully forever, and Blue’s worries would be at an end.

The club was up ahead and soon the car was making that hairpin turn into the parking garage, down to where Edge took him the first time he’d come here. Could it possibly be only a few days ago? In less than a week his life was turned utterly upside-down. The last time that happened he was fresh from the Underground and still naively excited to see the sun.

Sometimes he wished he could go back to that blissful ignorance. If he’d known what was waiting for them on the surface, he might’ve sat for longer in the first rays of sunshine.

The driver pulled into an empty spot in the garage, hopping out to open the car door for them. Red didn’t move, only waved a hand at the open door, his rings gleaming mellowly in the harsh overhead lights.

“head on in,” Red said, “dog’ll take ya upstairs.”

“they’ll take me to edge?” Rus blurted, already breaking his mental vow not to speak to Red again. He lifted his chin defiantly. “i want to see edge.”

“said they would, didn’t i? i keep my promises.” The moment the words were spoken, a certain realization fell across Red’s face. A reminder of promises very recently broken, tinted with a dangerous hint of aggravation that threatened to flare into something worse. Rus bit his tongue and said nothing, even as that look faded into simple weariness. Red heaved a sigh and hooked a thumb at the door. “just follow the fucking dog.”

This time, Rus did as he was told.

He followed the Dog to the elevator, their long, whip-thin tail barely wavering as they walked. Rus swallowed down both his urge to ask to see his brother first and his guilt for not doing so. If he saw Blue before Edge, he’d either lose his nerve or simply let his brother persuade him into staying. They’d end up back home, back to the bouquets and the customers with the last pages of this story left unfinished.

That wasn’t gonna work, not this time. Rus needed an ending, a resolution to this daydream gone nightmare. He couldn’t let it hang over him, he needed this if he was ever going to sleep through the night again, and he didn’t know how to make his brother understand. So, this time he’d go the route of begging forgiveness rather than asking permission, and get that ending, however it came. They were far past happily ever after or even a miserable wish to be left unscathed. All he could hope for now was a finish.

The elevator ride was in awkward silence and in the hallways, the door the Dog led him to was a familiar one, although the two other Dogs stationed outside it were not. The Dog who’d led him upstairs said nothing, only nodded to the others, and one of them turned to the keypad, inputting numbers, then gestured to the door.

Rus took a deep breath, let it out, then opened the door and stepped inside.

The door barely shut behind him before Rus stopped, taking in the room in shock. Gone was the coldly elegant bedroom of before, this room was savaged as if by a wild animal. The sofas were overturned, their cushions gutted, spilling foam and bent springs onto the floor. The side tables were splintered, the bookshelves lined with gaps and tattered pages were underfoot everywhere. Even the walls weren’t unscathed; holes dotted the drywall, from fists or bone attacks, he couldn’t tell, crumbling plaster and glass crunching beneath Rus’s shoes.

Standing in the center of the ruins, his back to the door, was Edge. He looked untouched by the wreckage around him, not a speck of dust on his clothes or a wrinkle in his trousers, the unmoving eye in the middle of the hurricane. One might think he’d stumbled across the damages the same as Rus if it weren’t for his hands. They were clenched at his sides, the broad phalanges smeared with filth and marrow, the joints still lit brilliantly with magic. He was facing the bed where it sat still untouched by the storm as if contemplating directing his wrath on it as well.

Rus picked his careful way through the detritus towards him. There was nothing silent about it, not with everything littering the floor underfoot. Edge must know he was there, but he didn’t turn around, and eventually Rus ventured, softly, “edge?”

At the sound of his name, Edge hunched over as if struck, ducking his head. Through gritted teeth, he said, “My brother did not tell me his intentions.”

“i know.” He did, didn’t even have to think that hard about it. There was nothing trustworthy about this situation, not in this place and certainly not Red, but he trusted Edge. Edge would never have allowed him to be used as bait.

Edge nodded and still did not turn around. His fists tightened, his joints creaking audibly. From his damaged knuckles, a droplet of marrow fell to the floor, splashing red against the crumbling plaster. “I wasn’t allowed to join him to bring you back. He thought it best if I stayed here. He seemed to think my attachment would make me,” he hesitated, then spat out, “reckless.”

It would have, Rus realized with a sense of dawning realization. He’d seen it himself, hadn’t he? The slow change in Edge, from calm and unruffled after the shooting at the shop to this, a winding path downward path in his temperament that led to the wreckage of his room.

If he’d gone after Blaze carelessly, then it might be his dust littering the floor of that horrible bedroom, and what did it say about Rus that he abruptly understood Red’s position a bit better. For him, protecting Rus was certainly a side benefit, but the one he wanted to protect was his brother, and could Rus blame him for that?

Maybe it would be better for Edge for them to be apart as well.

Edge shifted his weight, glass crunching beneath his expensive shoes and Rus abruptly made a choice.

“come here,” he said decisively, and took Edge by the arm. He pulled him along unresistingly to the bathroom. Inside, he flicked on the light and the sudden bright glare against ceramic made Rus wince, but he persisted, pulling Edge to the sink.

Rus hopped up to sit on the countertop and turned on the water, fussing with the faucets. When it was warm but not too hot, he lifted Edge’s hands into the stream. Rus wet his own hands and with a little squirt from soap pump, rubbed them together until they dripped with suds. As gently as he could, he washed Edge’s hands until the water ran clear, making sure to get between his knuckles and into the joints. When he was done, he dried them cautiously with a towel before inspecting them for damage. There were a few hairline cracks, nothing too terrible, and he easily healed them, his own fingertips glowing a soft green. Edge didn’t offer a word of protest, only following Rus’s guiding touch, obeying his quiet murmurs and allowing himself to be moved like a doll.

It was only when Rus was finished, still cradling Edge’s larger hands in his own, that Edge spoke again, his voice echoing in the enclosed space of the bathroom.

“So it’s over.”

“i think so.” Rus said. He didn’t look up from Edge’s hands, rubbing a thumb over the bones of his wrist as he checked for any more cracks. They were so delicate, such thin bones leading to strong, broad hands. Hands that had surely done awful things, but that had always touched him with such care. Even when he’d been angry, Edge never hurt him, never forced, unlike some others. “blaze is…gone.”

“I wasn’t speaking of Blaze.”

Yeah. Rus knew that too, couldn’t pretend that he didn’t, and for all that Edge was so very much bigger than him, Rus felt as if he was the protector as he said, gently. “i can’t stay. i don’t belong here.”

Edge’s eye lights flared, briefly filling his sockets with glowing crimson. “And if I refuse to let you go?”

Perhaps once that belligerence would have frightened Rus, but no more.

“is that really what you want?” Rus countered. He gestured at the room around them and beyond. “to cage me up in here? let me wilt away behind these walls. my body might survive it, but can you say the same about my soul?”

Those broad shoulders sagged, Edge bracing his forearms against the sink as he hunched over. He spread his hands, staring at the scarred white bones, the hidden cracks barely healed. “Flowers need sunlight,” Edge murmured, though he seemed to be speaking more to himself than Rus.

It was the truth, they both knew it, and still, tears stung Rus’s sockets, salt thickness forming on the back of his tongue. “yes. but please, give me this much. one night with you, that’s all i’m asking. please.”

Edge finally lifted his chin look at him and the bleakness on his face made those tears overflow. He reached out and ran a trembling finger down Rus’s cheekbone, tracing their damp path as he said, hoarsely, "What have I done to you, little flower shop?"

"nothing,” Rus whispered, “none of this was your fault."

"No?” Edge shook his head. “I’m not so certain. By my very presence, I took you from your roses and dragged you into the ugliness of my world. Not my intention, perhaps, but it was certainly my fault."

“then i don’t care,” Rus said. He leaned into the fingertips still pressed to his cheekbone, yearning into that soft touch.

"You don't need to do this,” Edge told him. Crimson eye lights searched Rus’s face and he wondered at what they saw, “You don't owe me anything, rose petal."

"i know. this isn't about debts this is…" goodbye, Rus didn’t, couldn't, say. Some part of him still wished he could go back in time, back to blissful ignorance, or barring that, to simply forget. Neither was possible and instead, so he'd take what he could get and live with it. "this is what i want. just once?"

As an answer, Edge surged forward to lift Rus into his arms, carrying him back into the other room to the bed. He settled Rus onto the soft comforter and he lay there, watching as Edge stripped off his jacket and cast aside his tie before unbuttoning his shirt.

He ignored the solid thud of what could only be the shoulder harness of his gun hitting the floor.

He left his shirt on, hanging open, and Rus caught a glimpse of the broad, scarred bones of his ribcage before Edge went to work on his clothes. He stripped Rus bare, with a reverence that didn’t allow embarrassment any footing. With only a hint of shyness, he lay naked on the bed, his slim bones exposed to the heady, crimson eye lights roving eagerly over him.

Instead of moving on top of him, Edge lay at his side, the coarser material of his trousers abrading gently against the outside of Rus’s femur. His breath was warm against Rus’s skull as he murmured, “What have you done?

“huh?” Rus managed dazedly. He was more focused on the warmth of the body against him, fingertips gently grazing his collarbone, tracing the delicate line of it to his sternum.

“You’ve been with someone else?” Edge prompted. There was no jealousy, only gentle urging for an answer.

“i…yes. i’m not a virgin.” Rus barely managed to keep down his defensiveness. The truth was he wasn’t far from one, but there wasn’t any point in bringing that up now.

Edge only let out a thoughtful hum. “No? I’ve taken so much from you, ripped you from your life. Some would think it unfair for me to have your body as well.”

After everything it was damned frustrated to think Edge might be having doubts. “even if i’m giving it?”

“Especially if you’re giving it.” Edge let out a last sigh, “But I’m greedy enough to take it.”

A large hand cupped Rus’s cheekbone, turning his face and then a hot mouth was on his own, a kiss filled with both gentleness and naked hunger.

In all his daydreams and imaginings, he’d never expected it to be like this. Almost more of a dream of its own, and lost in the depths of those kisses, Rus could hardly tell which way was up. Edge moved as if defying the laws of physics, one moment his mouth was on Rus’s and another, it was moving down his ribcage, his tongue investigating sensitive crevices and delicate joints.

Rus couldn’t move, whatever pretense he’d hoped to give that he had at least some experience was lost. Honestly, how was he supposed to focus when Edge was sliding down between his legs, investigating where Rus’s magic formed wet and ready between his legs. His hands curled under Rus’s hips, lifting him effortlessly as his mouth grazed soft folds, his tongue sliding out to investigate. Rus cried out, his heels digging into the mattress as he arched up, struggling against Edge’s unrelenting grip with another choked moan.

“Oh, oh, please,” he whimpered. His hands scrabbled at Edge’s skull, unable to find purchase, and then there was nothing he could say. He could only cry out, low and garbled, as his pleasure peaked.

He fell back weakly, his sprawling legs pushed further apart by Edge crawling up between them. He didn’t know when Edge stripped away the last of his own clothes and couldn’t be bothered to solve the mystery. Edge’s mouth was on his own again and this time his tongue was sweetened with the flavor of Rus’s pleasure. Heat rose in his cheekbones, but Rus didn’t shy from the taste, letting Edge share it with him in kiss after kiss.

Between them, he could feel the heavy, hot length of Edge’s cock and he reached down boldly to curl his hand around it, stroking curiously. Edge made a low, shuddering sound, his breath puffing against Rus’s shoulder as he reached down to stop him. He didn’t draw Rus’s hand away, only guided it, both of them moving together until the damp tip of the shaft was prodding at Rus’s entrance, still damp from Edge’s mouth.

Edge lowered his head, not to take a kiss, but to whisper against Rus’s mouth. “Can I, flower shop? Can I have you?”

“yes,” Rus gasped out, but even now on the cusp, he managed to add, “for tonight. have me.”

The sound Edge made was both yearning and betrayed, his hips shifting as he pushed abruptly inside, filling Rus with a single, hard thrust.

“oh, fuck! that’s…that…so much!” Rus squeaked out, grabbing at Edge’s shoulders. Not to stop him, as if he could, only to cling, he felt as if he didn’t hold on, he might fly off without even the benefit of a teleport. He felt achingly full, his thighs spread wide by Edge between them and his cock so deep inside him, thick and unmoving.

Above him, Edge groaned, pressing his mouth to Rus’s cheekbone to rasp out, “I’m sorry, flower shop, I didn’t mean—”

Rus interrupted him with a hiss, both hands dropping down to claw desperately at Edge’s hips, “don’t apologize, just move!” His weight was too much for Rus to shift and he could only rock his hips up uselessly, barely moving the shaft inside him.

Then Edge did move, withdrawing until Rus felt wrong and empty inside, only to fill him again with another deep thrust. Gentler than Rus expected or even wanted, but there was no room for protests. He could only cling to Edge as he found a rhythm, both of them finding it together, moving as one as Edge thrust slowly inside him and Rus followed.

The wet sounds of their bodies meeting coupled with the low creak of the bed, the headboard thumping lightly against the wall, and Rus listened to the song of it, listened to Edge breathing heavily above him. It was getting hard to think, everything was going soft and blurry around him, pleasure rising, but Rus tried. He wanted to remember every moment of this, wanted to be able to take it out later, to replay it in his mind, a dream that should never have been coming to life.

All too soon, the speed of their movements increased, their breathing shifting to quick-quick blurts and even as Rus dug his fingers into Edge’s hips, trying to hold back, the light went golden behind his eyes as he cried out and came. Deep inside, he could feel the hot pulse of Edge coming inside him, wet and wonderful and perfect as he shuddered in Rus’s arms, groaning out his name in a single, ruined sound.

Even in the throes of orgasm, Edge was careful to brace his weight on his elbows, sagging only briefly down onto Rus. When Edge shifted to roll to the side, Rus refused to let him go. He wrapped arms and legs around him, clinging hard until Edge subsided even as he still tried to keep the bulk of his weight from crushing Rus into the mattress.

“Let go, flower shop,” Edge murmured after a long moment, nuzzling gently at Rus’s chin, “I’ll hurt you.”

“not yet,” Rus whispered back. Not yet. The night wasn’t over, he still had until morning and he meant to make use of every minute of it.

tbc