#my feelings lean heavily towards “it certainly is a movie”

[chaoticgoodcaptain]

also you know studying international relations fucked you up bad when you go see oppenheimer and your initial reaction is "oh, so just another thursday in the world politics"

[lesbianpepsi]

sweet as cherries | part II

pairing: jenna ortega x blind!fem!reader

summary: you finally go on the date Jenna promised you

series masterlist

link to request

words: 4.203k

warnings: light swearing, r makes more blind jokes?, bad writing

authors note: thank you all so much for 800 followers, that's actually mental. love y'all <33

Jenna hadn't left your thoughts for longer than a minute since you met her a few days back at the cafe.

It was bad.

You couldn't stop yourself from thinking about her every single moment. 

Drinking cinnamon latte? Jenna. Your phone is ringing? You hoped it was Jenna calling. Heading towards the cafe? You hoped Jenna was there.

It was just Jenna, Jenna, Jenna. 

When she did call, hearing her voice again through technology wasn't anything like it was when you were a teenager watching one of her movies.

It was a thousand times better.

Hearing her voice actually speak to you, laugh at your terrible jokes and even compliment you made you feel as if you were in heaven. 

Her laugh was certainly one of your favourite things. 

As the days passed it reached Thursday, an exact week since you met Jenna at the cafe.

You were interrupted in the middle of listening to an audiobook by a phone call from Jenna. You giddily answered the phone with a smile already plastered on your face. 

"Hey Jenna." 

"Hey Y/n, how've you been today?" She asked you, hearing her saying your name never failed to make butterflies appear in your stomach. 

You shrugged your shoulders as you relaxed even further into the couch. "I've been alright thanks for asking, I've been stuck in the house all day 'cause of the rain. You?"

"It's raining heavily today, hasn't it?" You hummed in agreement. "I've been alright thanks for asking, tired but alright. Hopefully I'm gonna make yours better."

You chuckled as you raised your eyebrows as if she was with you. "Oh?"

Jenna giggled nervously through the phone, her angelic laugh making your smile soften. 

"I'm not working tomorrow so I was wondering if you'd like to go on that date I promised you?" She inquired with a tone to her voice that you never had heard before.

Without thinking you began nodding your head eagerly, soon after coughing awkwardly as you internally thanked the fact Jenna did not see your reaction.

"I'd love to go on a date with you." You answered her speedily making Jenna laugh at your jumbled words. "Yeah?" She asked again, you could practically hear her smirk through the phone.

"Yeah, I've been waiting all week for you to ask me out." You immediately regret your words as Jenna hums through the phone. "All week?" She teases, now you know she has a shit eating smirk on her face.

"You know what, I think I'll be busy tomorrow." This only made Jenna let out a laugh. "What a shame, guess I'll just have to go on a date with someone else."

"Oh look at that, my schedule just freed, turns out I am free tomorrow. No need to get a replacement for me." You admitted swiftly, laughing lightly yourself.

"Good, I don't think I could've found someone as good as you to go on a date with me." She answered with a cheeky smile on her face. 

Your heart skipped a beat at her words. She definitely knew how to charm someone, that you're sure about. 

"Well isn't that lucky for the both of us then." You concluded with a smile toying on your lips. "What're we gonna do?" 

"I've already planned everything out." Jenna says as she shuffled around in her seat.

"Really? What're we gonna be doing then?" You asked her curiously switching your phone to your other hand.

Jenna chuckled. "You'll have to wait till tomorrow to see." 

You groaned loudly, throwing your head backwards as you leaned against the head against the couch. 

"Really? You're gonna make me wait?"

"Yep!" Jenna exclaimed.

"I hate you." You grumbled through the phone, rolling your eyes as you did so. Jenna laughed, "You sure about that?" 

"No." You grumbled with a soft smile. "You're annoying, Jen." 

"What a way to woo a girl." Jenna replied, a small blush on her cheeks at the nickname. "I'll pick you up tomorrow around six?" 

"Well I certainly won't be drinking to pick you up." You said, sarcasm dripping off of your voice.

"Ha-ha. I bet you're trying not to laugh right now." A small giggle erupted from your chest at her nods, smiling a crooked smile.

"Maybe."

Jenna laughed freely as she shook her head, smiling like a fool. "So six?"

"I'll be waiting." 

—————

To say you're nervous is an understatement. You're fucking petrified. 

It hadn't hit you till after you and Jenna ended the call -which lasted another hour- that you're going on a date with America's It Girl. 

At Jenna's decision to not tell you where you'll be going it took you an entire hour to get changed.

After many, many outfit changes you decided on white long sleeve dress shirt, basic black pants along with a pair of even more basic black boots. 

Classy but something most people would wear on a daily basis. 

"Hey Alexa, what time is it?" You yelled out as you held your cane with a strong grip, your knee bouncing nervously up and down. 

"It's currently 5:59, one minute till your date with Jenna Ortega, a famous actress who was born on September twenty seventh-"

"Okay, okay, thank you Alexa."  You interrupted, not wanting to hear the machine ramble on about your date.

The clicking of the clock filled the silent apartment making you feel more nervous as the time ticked down. 

Would you make a fool of yourself? Will Jenna find out that she's actually not interested in you? What if it's awkward? What if-

"It's six in the evening, you are scheduled to go on a date with Jenna Ortega." Alexa spoke again, interrupting your internal self doubting. 

The exact moment the bot stopped talking gentle knocks were heard from your front door. You swallowed nervously as you stood up, leaning on your cane momentarily before you headed over to the door.

Taking a deep breath you twist the door-handle and pull it open, a nervous smile on your face.

"Y/n," Jenna says breathlessly with her own nervous smile on her face. "You look beautiful. Gorgeous even."

You blushed heavily at her words, looking down as if that would hide your blush. 

"Thank you, I don't doubt that you look even more beautiful." You reply with a grin, lifting your head to look in her direction.

Jenna laughed playfully as she gazed at you, her eyes flickering over your body as she admired how good you looked.

"Thank you. Are you ready to go?" 

You nod your head happily, stretching your hand out to where you know the coat rack was at, you feel around the different fabrics before you feel the texture for your black trench coat. 

Grabbing it, you quickly put it on as you take a step outside, closing the door behind you. 

"You gonna tell me where we're heading to?" You ask her as you instinctively go to grab Jenna's elbow with your free hand, letting her lead you towards your car, her being a step ahead of you.

Jenna didn't protest at the contact and even smiled at it. "You're just gonna have to wait." She replies with a grin as she directs you towards her car.

"Seriously?" You complain as you arrive at Jenna's car. Jenna opens the car door for you, making sure you don't bump your head on top of the car as you enter. Passing her your cane she closed the door as she carefully put it in the backseat, joining you in the front behind the wheel soon after.

"As serious as pie." Jenna says as she begins to drive, the car engine revving lowly as she drives off. 

You turn to look at her with furrowed eyebrows, laughing confusedly. "As serious as pie? I have never heard that before. What's so serious about pies?" 

Jenna smiled as she focused her eyes on the road, resisting the urge to let out a small laugh. "Pies sound like spies."

"Then why don't you say you are as serious as spies?" You ask even more confused, laughing amused as you push your thick black sunglasses back up your nose.

"When I was younger I constantly got the two mixed up so If I wanted an actual pie I'd ask: 'Can I have a spy?' I don't know how I mixed them up, but somehow I did." Jenna answered you with her own laugh, smiling from ear to ear as she heard you laugh even harder.

"It gets worse too. I remember I wanted to watch a Spy movie so my confused self asked 'Can I watch pie?'. So at the young age of four years old someone - I still don't remember who- did what I asked for and put on American Pie for me." 

You couldn't help but laugh as you shook your head, amused by Jenna's story. "Oh poor sweet innocent baby Jenna." You said in between laughs.

"I think it was so traumatising that I've completely blanked it out, I only know the story since my Mom likes to bring it up during family holidays." Jenna laughs as she flicks the indicators on, the low ticking noise being heard between your and Jenna's laughs. "The time she walked into the living room to her four year old daughter watching American Pie."

"I can't even imagine your moms face walking into that." You exclaim as your laughter finally dies down, your crooked grin never leaving your face.

After Jenna's story the car is filled with low music from the radio. Eventually you feel Jenna stop and park the car, leaving the car before arriving outside your door moments later, opening it up for you as she hands you your cane.

"Thanks," You whispered as you gripped at the cane with your dominant hand, your other hand reaching out for Jenna's elbow. 

At first you waved it across the air but Jenna quickly came back to your side and guided your non-dominant hand to her elbow.

"I feel like it isn't fair that I literally can't see where we are, so you finally gonna tell me?" You asked as you walked with Jenna, letting her guide you as your cane glided against the floor. 

"It isn't much but I booked us reservations at a restaurant, I made sure to pick the best one in town." You smiled as you unconsciously licked your lips at the mention of food.

"The best one, huh? Is it also the fanciest?" You teased with an appreciative smile, showing Jenna that you were truly thankful about her planning the date.

Jenna blushed as she chuckled, glancing over at your side profile briefly before back at the restaurant in front of you two.

As you neared the entrance a man in a tight suit opened the glass door for the two of you, his smile as wide as it was fake as he rehearsed his line for the probably hundredth time.

"Welcome to The Crown, I hope you enjoy your meals." Jenna smiled politely at him as she entered the restaurant with you by her side.

Immediately low chatter and sounds of cutlery was heard throughout the entire restaurant, filling up your sensitive ears with the sounds.

Jenna guided you towards the check in where another man stood in with a fake smile plastered on his face, a formal suit on his figure. She smiled up at  him as she came to a halt, you stopping beside her, never letting go of her elbow. 

"Hi, reservations under the name Ortega." She said with a ravishing smile. 

The smell of the food was intoxicating as it flooded your nose, you definitely are going to enjoy your dinner tonight, that's for sure.

"I'm sorry but I see no reservations under the name Ortega." The man apologised in an overly fake apologetic tone that you couldn't help but notice.

Jenna's eyes widened dramatically as she shook her head, taking a step close to where the man stood behind the small podium with an iPad attached to it.

"Are you sure? I made reservations three days ago." Jenna insisted with a polite voice as she laughed nervously. "What about Jenna?" She tried again.

The man hissed as he shook his head at Jenna. "I'm sorry but there are no reservations under the name Ortega or Jenna. We've recently hired new staff and it gets hectic over the summer so one of them have probably mixed up the reservations. Sorry." He answers, dragging out the letter 'y' much longer than necessary.

Jenna sighed as she turned to face you, a frown on her face. "I'm so sorry, Y/n." You turned your head to the direction of her voice, a crooked smile still on your lips. "There's nothing to be sorry about, it isn't your fault the reservations got messed up." 

She sighed as she looked down at the ground, embarrassed that she had ruined your and hers first date. "Still, this night was supposed to be perfect but now we have nowhere to eat." The brunette apologised again in a thick voice.

You shake your head at her as you squeezed at her elbow reassuringly. "We can still have a great night, Jen, c'mon let's go for a walk and we can figure it out then." 

Jenna reluctantly nodded her head after a few seconds, raising her hand to lay it over yours for a second before she slowly turned around, making sure you were turning with her slowly. 

"Let's go," She affirmed, walking out of the restaurant with a small frown still on her face.

Jenna and you stayed silent for a few minutes as you walked down the lively street. The actress felt a gnawing sense of guilt in her stomach every time she glanced at you.

You on the other hand still had a smile toying on your lips, more than happy to just be around Jenna. You sense Jenna was feeling guilty about the 'supposed' ruined date, but to you the date wasn't ruined at all, a minor hiccup.

"Can I ask you a question?" You abruptly ask her as you turn your head to look at her face.

"You just asked me one." She retorted, glancing back at you with a grin. You rolled your eyes under your black glasses. "Of course you're that type of person. Bet if you were a teacher and I asked if I can go to the bathroom you'd say: 'I don't know, can you?'" 

Jenna laughed as she shook her head, the corners of her eyes crinkling up in delight as she did so. "Wow, you really do think that low of me." She teased back with her own playfulness. 

"Of course I do, I loathe you so much I'm going on a date with you." You disclosed with noticeable sarcasm in your voice as you chuckled. "Seriously though, can I ask you a question?"

"I don't know, can you?" Jenna replied without any hesitation.

"You're hilarious, can't you see I'm laughing my ass off right now?" You replied dryly, acting annoyed, but the twitch of the corner of your lips telling a completely different story. 

"What did you wanna ask me?" Jenna finally asked you, putting you out of your misery as you two walked down the lit up street.

"Is it weird seeing your face plastered absolutely everywhere?" You questioned her with genuine curiosity. "Not like I've ever even seen your face before, but is it weird or have you gotten used to it?"

Jenna stifled a little laugh at your joke as she shrugged her shoulders weakly. "It was a massive shock in the beginning, if I'm being honest. Out of all my projects I never expected Wednesday to be my biggest break. It took some time for me to start getting used to it, it can still be very stressful at times but I've gotten much better at managing it compared to how I was in November."

Your thumb caressed against Jenna's shirt as you two walked, a small encouraging smile on your face as you listened to Jenna talk.

Unknown to you Jenna smiled softly at the feeling of your caressing her lightly.

"I know for a fact I'll never get used to the paparazzis, they're the fucking worst with their blinding flashing cameras." She complains. No star will ever get used to the invasion of privacy at every given moment of their life.

You snorted a laugh. "Guess if they ever see us together in public I'll be okay then."

Jenna stayed silent for a moment, confused by your words until she finally got your joke. The latina bit her lower lip to hide the laugh wanting to escape from her, a smirk on her lips. 

Before Jenna could say anything she felt you grip her tighter as you stopped walking, she immediately turned to you full of worry but by the wide smile on your face she quickly calmed herself down.

"I know what we're gonna have for dinner." You exclaimed with a delighted smile. "If there's one thing I can smell better than cinnamon latte it's wood-fired pizza trucks." 

Her eyes glanced around at your words and to her surprise a wood-fired pizza truck was at the corner of the street, only a small line of people queuing.

"You're a genius, Y/n. Let's go." Jenna eagerly said, walking towards it at a pace quicker than usual. You followed along with her just as eagerly, both of you having wide smiles on your faces.

As the two of you arrived at the food truck there were only three other people in front of you, an incredibly small line for a Friday night. 

Standing beside Jenna you turned your head in her direction, your smile nervous as you nodded towards the truck.

"Can you read the menu to me, please?" You gingery asked her with a taut voice, Jenna nodded her head without hesitation, turning to read the menu as she listed off the different types of pizzas and what's on them.

After Jenna read the entire menu to you, you decided on a barbecue chicken pizza and Jenna going for a pizza called clucking spicy.

Jenna stepped forward, you followed her as you reached the front of the truck, the strong smells of different flavours and fire sneaking into your nose.

"What can I get for you two lovely ladies?" The owner said in a cheery voice as he leaned against the counter, gawking down at the two of you.

Jenna looked up at him with her own polite smile. "Hi can I get one twelve inch clucking spicy pizza, one twelve inch barbecue chicken pizza and can I have one can of cherryade as well please."

"Of course, the drink is on the house, darling." He replied still with a cheery voice as he wrote down the orders on a notepad. 

You grinned at the sound of a free drink while Jenna shook her head, smiling nervously. "Are you sure? I can pay if you want." She insisted.

The man shook his head. "And I insist it's for free, my youngest daughter loves you in that show -oh what's the name. Oh! Stuck in the Middle, she watches it every morning before school."

Your heart practically melted at the man's words, your smile turning soft as you listened intently to their small conversation.

Jenna blushed lightly from embarrassment as she smiled up at the man.

"Oh, thank you so much, sir. How much is it for the pizzas?" She asked as she pulled out a wallet from her pocket.

You shook your head as you squeezed her elbow again, stealing her attention away from her own wallet. "I'll pay for it." You tell her with a smile.

Jenna shakes her own head as she gazes at your face. "No, it's fine, I'll pay."

"Jen, seriously I can pay, you already managed to make it cheaper so you've done your part." You laughed, loosening your hold on her as you shoved your hand into the pocket of your trench coat, searching for your wallet.

"Paying is the least I can do." Jenna argued back as she turned to look at the man who had an amused look on his face, his eyes flickering between you two.

"How much?" She asked again.

"Sixteen." He said with a small chuckle. 

You swiftly pulled out your wallet pulling out a twenty as you placed it on the counter before Jenna or the man could say anything. 

"Y/n!" Jenna complained as she turned to glare at you. You smiled in the man's direction as you ignored the feeling of Jenna's eyes staring into your side profile. 

He bellowed out a laugh as he shook his head, taking the twenty as he fiddled around with the cashier. "Young love." He muttered to himself with a smile.

The man gave you the change along with a small slip of paper with your order number on it. "The food will be ready soon." He says before turning around to help with the orders.

You passed Jenna the slip of paper as the two of you made your way to a bench. Once you two are sitting down you hear her snort a laugh next to you.

"What?" You asked with a nervous smile, your fingers tapping against your cane. Jenna had a smirk on her face as she fiddled with the paper. "We're order number sixty nine." She explained in a dirty voice as she resisted the urge to laugh. 

You couldn't help but laugh lightly. "Seriously? What are you, a teenage boy?" You teased her, shuffling closer to her subtly.

"Hey! You're laughing too so you find it just as funny as I do." She jabbed back with a playful expression as she gazed at you, a look of pure admiration on her face.

Conversations flowed easily between you and Jenna for the rest of the night, almost as if it was the easiest thing ever. As easy as walking, listening even breathing.

The two of you ate your beyond amazing pizzas after giggling like children after hearing the man's voice booming voice yell, "Sixty nine!" across the street. 

Jenna drank all of the cherryade to herself but you honestly didn't mind, you stole a few sips and that was more than enough for you. The drink itself was sweet and okay at best.

Hours passed as you and Jenna sat on the bench, chatting and laughing away like there was no tomorrow. Eventually the two of you had to part ways as it somehow reached midnight before you even knew it.

Jenna, the gentlewoman she is, took you home and even walked you to your door.

You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears as you lingered in the doorway to your house, your body facing Jenna's.

 "I had a really good time, Jenna, thank you." You say, Jenna smiles at you as she takes a small step closer to you. "It definitely wasn't how I expected the night heading but I really enjoyed myself too."

Swallowing your anxiety you smiled at her taking your own limpid step closer to her.  "Does that mean there will be another date?" You ask her in a hopeful voice, your anxiety crawling back up your throat with each word you uttered.

Jenna laughed her heavenly laugh as she bit her bottom lip. "I'd love nothing more than a second date." 

"Love huh? I must've really made a good impression on you then." You teased her in a weak attempt to try to calm down the erratic beating of your heart. Convinced if Jenna and you stayed silent she would've been able to hear it pounding against your chest.

"Wanna know what I would love even more?" Jenna asks in a soft voice, taking her another step closer to you. You shake your head 'no' at her question, a sensation of butterflies gnawing at your stomach.

Jenna moved even closer placing a gentle hand on your waist, a blush burned at the tip of your ears at the feeling. She slowly leaned closer to you until her mouth hovered over your ear, you could feel her breath against your ear. Goosebumps swiftly erupted all over your body at the feeling.

"For a goodnight kiss." She whispered with a smirk, enjoying the way your cheeks burned as furiously as your ears at her words.

Carefully you raised your hand as you placed your palm on her cheek, sighing contently at the feeling of her soft smooth skin. 

Jenna pulled away from your ear as she gazed at your lips; you could feel her low quick breaths against your own lips.

"And I'd love nothing more than to make you happy." You declared in a small voice before pulling Jenna in for a kiss.

The sensation of Jenna's lips on yours immediately caused a larger swarm of butterflies in your stomach as well as making your knees feel much weaker. Your other hand quickly grabbed at her waist, sighing quietly as you kissed Jenna.

She tasted like cherries; a sweet taste you could feel yourself becoming addicted to. 

Jenna's own arm was wrapped around your neck as she pulled you even closer to her.

If you thought your favourite thing about Jenna was her honey like voice, then it definitely had some competition as you could only describe kissing Jenna as one word.

Heavenly.

—————

taglist: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @canvascoloredin

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[drivinmeinsane]

Snowstorm ※ 12 Days of Goosemas

Day Ten ※ Colt Seavers / Reader

{12 Days of Goosemas Masterlist} ※ {Regular Masterlist} ※ {ao3}

※ Summary: You and Colt discover that some gambles don't pay off.

※ Rating: No mature content.

※ Content/Tags: Cuddling for Warmth, Ill-advised Winter Safety Practices, Fluff/Humor

※ Word count: 1998

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

Despite your layers, you’re shivering enough that your teeth feel like they’re going to rattle right out of your skull. It’s hard to imagine that the weather is going to take a turn for the worse when it’s already cold enough in the warehouse that everyone’s breath is visible in front of their faces. This far north by the Great Lakes is always a gamble this time of year. This movie production is certainly not winning the lottery. 

“Alright crew, let's wrap this up,” calls the team lead. 

Everyone picks up speed, finishing their tasks so they can separate into pairs and small groups to carpool back to their temporary housing. Automatically, you gravitate towards Colt. The two of you have been working off and on together for years on various movie sets. Being around him comes as easily and naturally as breathing. It was a massive relief when you were assigned to share an airbnb for the couple months you’re going to be spending here. 

“This sucks, huh?” You comment, helping him to roll up an impact mat. 

He laughs, breath clouding the air. “Yeah, it super sucks.”

The rest of the crew files out while the two of you work, alternating between sweating and freezing. Securing all the impact mats for storage is a miserable task, but it gets done. The building is empty aside from Colt and you. 

The stunt guy straightens up, groaning as his back loudly pops. “Ready to bounce on outta here?”

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

At the door, the two of you take the time to adjust your layers. Colt wraps your scarf around your head teasingly after offering to help you put it on. You give him a scathing look between the layers of material before you break and the two of you start laughing. Colt is wiping at his eyes, still chuckling a little, when you shove the door open. 

The cold air immediately tears right through your clothes. The hollow thud and click of the door closing and locking behind you both sounds ominous. Colt offers his arm to you and you take it, resigning yourself to the weather conditions. The snow is coming down heavily, making it difficult to see across the sprawling parking. 

Your Lord of the Rings worthy journey to Colt’s truck starts out easily enough, until you wipe out on a snow-covered patch of ice. If it wasn’t for the death grip you have on each other's arms, you would bust your ass right then and there. Instead, you and Colt end up doing a weird dance to try to stay upright. 

“Maybe we should consider a career in couples ice skating. Maybe retire from the stunts biz.” Colt suggests, breathing heavily from the unexpected exertion.

“Toddler level, maybe,” you grumble back, foot skidding again. You hate the fact that the stunt crew has to park clear out of the way on the very fringes of the parking lot. 

You risk a glance at your coworker. His gaze is focused intently on the ground. Snowflakes are collecting in his beard and in his shaggy hair, making his blue eyes appear even bluer. After what feels like an age of taking minuscule steps across a frozen wasteland, you finally spot his garishly colored truck through the snow. You’ve never been happier to see the yellow and brown eyesore. 

Colt helps you up into the passenger seat. Once you're settled, he pushes his tuck keys into your hand. You pass him the windshield scraper in return. It was a new purchase after having to use the airbnb’s dustpan the first morning the two of you had walked out to the vehicle to find it under a thick layer of snow. 

“Start her for me?”

Mumbling an affirmative, you lean over and slot the key into the ignition switch and twist. The truck sparks to life with a smooth rumble. Meanwhile, Colt skirts around the edge of the vehicle. He’s scraping at the windshield, chiseling the packed snow in sheets. He suddenly slips, hitting his sternum on the truck’s grille guard. Upon seeing your horrified expression through the cleared glass, he flashes you a thumbs up and a grimace. You give him the same in return.

Working faster now, he finishes the windshield and makes sure that the side windows and mirrors are clear. He knocks the scraper clean before opening the door and heaving himself into the truck. The stunt man tosses it at your feet onto the already cluttered floorboard. The cold air that followed him into the cab does neither of you any favors.

“You think we’re good, Colt?” You ask, watching him pull off his gloves and tuck them into his sun visor for safekeeping.

“Hope so. If it doesn't get worse we should be fine,” he says with a shrug only to yelp when his bare hands come in contact with the steering wheel. “Shit, that’s cold!”

With the heat on full blast, Colt backs out of the parking lot and then you’re off to the airbnb. He handles the truck expertly. While not used to driving in what is essentially a blizzard, the man has done enough crazy stunts to keep from skidding all over the road. That and his monstrosity of a vehicle with its sizable off-roading tires makes the trip go a little easier. 

“Colt…” You say, worried. The weather is getting worse, much worse. The truck is struggling to maintain traction.

“Yeah, I know, sweetheart.” Both of you are so glued to the increasingly limited visibility and heavier snowfall that neither of you acknowledge the unintentional endearment Colt lets slip.

Spotting a ihop coming up, he makes the choice to pull into the empty lot. There’s no way he’s going to be able to push through. The weather is just too bad for his vehicle. The restaurant is clearly closed. This isn’t the southern part of the United States where there’s a Waffle House around to keep its doors open no matter the situation.

“There’s no way a tow truck is going to be able to get out here, is there?” You comment rhetorically. 

Beside you, Colt groans when he can’t get reception on his cell phone. “Looks like we’re going to be here until the plows come through. Might be in the morning.”

You sigh and settle into your seat. Both of your phone batteries are too low to risk running them down by idly scrolling through old saved pictures. It’s going to be a long night. 

To pass the time, you decide to lean over and rummage through the pile of trash and receipts on the floorboard. Like his apartment, he does not keep his truck clean or organized. You spend the next couple hours going through his receipts and judging him for his purchases. It’s mostly “Another Bonsai tree?” and “Just how much do you love this fast food place?” while your best friend does his damndest to defend himself as though he’s in front of an imaginary jury. 

Eventually, the light fades too much to see the small text. Colt has long since turned off the truck. As the sun dips below the horizon, it gets colder in the cab. 

You shiver and Colt notices. “C’mere.”

You slide across the bench seat and underneath his offered arm. He’s warm but the meager contact is too scant to do much. You seem to take turns shivering against one another. 

“It’s a shame we don’t have a tauntaun,” he says suddenly. 

You turn your face into the side of his chest to smother a groan at the reference. “I’d give anything for a hot drink right now.”

Colt makes a sound in agreement and slides down in his seat, struggling to get comfortable. His knee hits the steering wheel and you feel his pained exhale. “Yeah, I would too.”

A particularly vicious wind tears over the truck. It feels like it bypasses the layers of barely insulated metal entirely. The two of you clutch at each other in response. The lack of light isn’t helping it feel any warmer or cozier. Snow has entirely covered the windshield and the windows are fogged up from your breath and body heat. 

“I’ll turn on the truck for a sec to run the heater, but then I guess we oughta try to get some sleep.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You don’t separate when Colt turns the key. The warm air is luxurious against your cold face. You nearly shove your fingers into the vent. He turns the truck off once you’re both sufficiently warmed. Now comes the difficult part, navigating where to put your bodies for sleep. The temperature has ruined any semblance of personal space. 

“Wanna be on top?” 

“If you insist on bottoming, stunt guy.”

“Oh, I always insist.”

Nearly hitting your head on the cab’s roof, you manage to shove yourself off of the bench seat enough for Colt to wedge himself into the short space. You can barely make out his shape. His hands find you and he guides you on top of himself. He hisses sharply and puts a hand over your kneecap when you graze it dangerously close to his crotch. 

“I don't have plans for kids any time soon, but I’d like to keep my options open,” he jokes.

Finally, you are settled on top of him. It’s incredibly uncomfortable for both of you. He’s got his knees drawn up, shins against the door. Your left knee is wedged between his hip and the seat as you lay with your cheek on his shoulder. His arms are up and around you. Yours are tucked alongside his torso with your hands under his shoulders. You feel like a pair of pretzels.

You lay in silence, listening to the winter storm outside. Both of you start to shiver again.

“I know it’s silly but-”

“This sucks so-” you accidentally start at the same time. “Go ahead,” you encourage. 

You hear him swallow. He seems stiff, nervous all of a sudden. “I know it’s silly, but uh… skin to skin contact works. With us both wearing jackets we can’t share body heat as well. So maybe if we… Wow, I promise I’m not trying to come onto you.”

“Okay.” You say gently.  

Sitting up in his lap, his hands fall from your back to the sides of your hips. You unzip your jacket. You’re instantly colder. Underneath you, you feel Colt’s breath hitch and pick up the pace. You put your hands on his amble chest and find his coat zipper and tug it down. His fingers twitch, but they don’t make any move to stop you. You push his shirt up over his pectorals, all the way to his neck. You don’t touch his bare skin with your fingers. His hands find the hem of your shirt and together you draw it up to your collarbone. Both of you are bared in the truck cabin. 

The man leaves you holding your shirt in place while his hands move to your back. He guides you into laying down on top of him. Your friend sucks in a breath and exhales slowly as inch by inch you make contact. Your bare skin colliding is sinfully warm. 

You sigh into his neck, resisting the urge to press a kiss against it even as the stubble of his jaw grazes your face. He pulls his jacket up and over you as much as he can. His hold on you is tight, comforting. The direct contact of his body provides much more heat than between the layers. You’re not as cold as you were before. 

“Heck of a holiday season, huh?” You mumble, already beginning to drift off.

Colt hums in agreement. Before you slip entirely under into the oblivion of sleep, you swear you feel a kiss pressed to your forehead and a low “Sweet dreams.” that rumbles against your chest.

[enderwalking]

ok here's my comprehensive post about it based on what we currently know and how i'm currently feeling.

about dream: even in the very best case scenario here, he's a massive idiot who has hugely violated the acceptable boundaries between creator and fan, and he has demonstrated repeated disrespect for his community with the way he has brushed things off in addressing them. and that's the BEST case scenario based on what he's readily admitted; i don't think i have to detail how vile the worst case is. i've stood in dream's corner through a lot of bullshit, and i don't even really consider myself to have been wrong in those instances, but again, even giving the most benefit of the doubt imaginable and assuming that all the more explicit allegations are entirely false, this is still not a guy i can continue to invest any sort of positive energy towards. like this is where i have to pump on the parasocial brakes and put a stop to things.

about the dsmp: i'm a lorehead, this much is obvious. i honestly don't know how my investment in the story that is so intrinsically tied to dream is going to continue. obviously, plans have been made, and speaking selfishly, i do want to see the characters i love round off their arcs. but this isn't like a movie or a show where you can clearly partition character vs creator. and well, it's not the first time that lore has been used in a blatant attempt to sweep serious issues under the rug; dreamxd and c!dteam lore has always been some of my favorite, and yet to this day i have not been able to look back at that stream without contempt. unfortunately, the promise of upcoming lore leaves the same sour taste. part of me hopes that tommy and ranboo and whoever else who was planning on rounding off their arcs just decide to drop their google docs and be done with it. i don't know. perhaps eventually i'll be able to reapproach the story and characters with a healthy separation in mind, but that time is definitely not going to be in the immediate future.

about other dsmp ccs in general: i think that it's too early yet to make any judgments on how other ccs in dream's circle are handling things. i'll definitely have to wait and see how things unfold before determining who else i feel the need to cut ties with. i highly doubt sapnap or george would ever speak up against dream or ever continue content creation without his involvement; that very much feels like a "if they go down they go down together" situation. as for others, well. again, selfishly speaking, i want to hold out hope for the ccs who have distinct enough communities that they could feasibly distance their content from dream. i am tentatively considering sbi and co? i guess safe? for the time being? but it's definitely like. idk, i will probably keep my distance and wait to see how things get handled.

about the future of this blog: i think it's been pretty obvious that this blog has become more heavily hermit/trafficlife focused as of late, so if nothing else i'll probably just lean into that more? though being completely honest, i made this sideblog in the first place because i was returning to tumblr after like a solid 3-4 years of inactivity, where i knew that i had long-standing mutualships with fervent dsmp antis and didn't want my every post to be judged lmao. i don't especially mind being cringe about other mcyts on main, which is why i was saying that i might transition more to posting over at @strifetxt in the future? i'm not certain about that though, i like the categorization i've established here, so who knows. i'm definitely not deactivating this blog; even if i do transition fully to main, i'd want to keep this blog as an archive.

regardless of anything, i don't regret the fun i had in this community, and i certainly could never regret getting to meet and spend time with all the amazing people i've come to know in my time here <3

[fivelakesinwriting]

Hi babes, so to fuel our drew/rafe obsession, I think we can all agree drew is a boobs guy like no one can tell me different.

He just likes to lay on them when he’s sleeping or y’all are cuddling or when their watching a movie he has his arm over their shoulder with his hand on their boob 😏. pls i need a blurb on this and i feel like you could write this perfectly

-💫

Author's Notes: I see him as an ass man, honestly - but that could be because I am all ass, with ample boobs. But for you - anything, my friend. Also...I want this... Let me know what you think if you have a moment! If this was your request, I hope you love it. Thank you! xoxo

Warnings: None really. Fluff. Sexual references - sexual innuendos (just lots of touching)

Requested? Yes! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

They both felt so lazy that day. If it wasn't evident by the blankets strewn about the apartment in a trail from room to room, it was certainly made apparent in the way they lounged about. Limbs stretched across furniture, oversized clothes on as the rain dropped heavily against the windows the apartment.

"Sweetie." Drew mumbled into the top of her head, hair messy from never being brushed that day. He ran his fingertips up the back of her shirt along her warm skin and held her flush against him.

"Yeah?" She replied into the crease of his neck, fingertips running through his gold chain. He felt her eyelashes tickle his neck, so he knew she had not fallen back asleep quite yet.

"I'm getting hungry." Drew stated softly as his fingertips traced soft patterns over her back, and down her spine. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her sweatpants and gave a long exhale as she sat up to straddle his hips.

"I don't think we have a lot here, baby. Probably have to order something, it's yucky out there." She replied as she pressed her palms to his chest for leverage as she tried to look out the door of the balcony.

Drew reached his hands up under her sweater, which he immediately noticed was his, and filled his hands with her bare breasts beneath. He took notice of the shivers on her stomach, and along her neck as he softly palmed at her ample flesh, thumbs brushing over her nipples every so often.

"Whatever you like. You pick this time." Drew whispered with a soft smile up at her with a soft bounce of her breasts in his hands.

"Don't! I can't focus when you do that." She whined with a soft laugh as she pulled his hands out of her shirt by his elbows, making him smirk.

"Fine. Keep my hands to myself." Drew mumbled with a grin as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, his eyes on any bit of her exposed skin he could get.

"Stop looking at me like that." She shivered, her eyes closed as she slowly climbed off the much larger man and stood on unsteady feet.

"Like what?" Drew laughed as he reached for her thighs with his paw-like hand to try and pull her back. He most certainly was not done cuddling and touching.

"Like you're going to take my clothes off, and I'm not gonna get to eat food. I know that look, Starkey. Sit on your hands or something." She laughed while she wrapped her hand around his thick wrist in a lame attempt to move his hands away from her.

"Don't have a look." Drew grumbled while he reluctantly pulled his hands off his girlfriend once more and watched her backside as she walked away from him, towards the kitchen to look over takeout menus.

"You do have a look, and you've been giving me that same look since our first date." She called to him over her shoulder as she reached the kitchen, standing on her toes to reach the menus that were placed on top of the refrigerator.

Before she could ask him, Drew was up off of the couch and in the kitchen standing behind her, easily reaching above her head to grab the small pile of takeout menus and handing them to her. He pressed a kiss to the top of his short girlfriend's head and gave her backside a soft pat before he turned around to check his phone that had been charging. He checked his few messages and emails while he heard his girl hum and haw as she looked through the menus. He quickly sent a handful of replies then switched his phone back off.

"I think we should just go with the usual." Drew stated softly as he took the few steps over to his girl, standing behind her. His right arm wrapped around her, his hand reaching beneath her shirt again to palm at her breast while his left hand reached for a weathered Thai food menu, covered in wine stains and spilled sauce from favoured dishes.

"Because delivery takes over 30 minutes and you have a look on your face?" She questioned as she leaned back, succumbing to his affections as he pressed a kiss to the side of her face and his thumb ghosted over her nipple once.

"This is just my face." Drew scoffed, lips pressed to her temple as he pulled her back against him.

"It's distracting."

"You're distracting." Drew mumbled as he dropped the menu back on the counter and wrapped his other arm around his girlfriend to give her a loving squeeze.

"Order me food, Starkey. I'm hungry." She laughed, her arms folded over to squeeze at his biceps as he kissed her face over and over again. He grabbed her inside her sweater once more before he pulled his hands off his girlfriend and accepted her phone, their favourite Thai food place already dialed and at the ready.

"Tell them to bring you extra rice and that sauce you like if you go wait for me in bed with your clothes off." Drew nodded, eyebrows raised, just as the nasally voice of the teen on the other end of the phone greeted him.

"I was gonna do that any way!" She whispered to him as she unzipped the sweater that had belonged to him, dropped it to the floor, and raised her shoulders in a small shrug.

"Go." Drew stated under his breath with a snap of his fingers, pointing towards the bedroom down the hall and watched as she all but skipped away from him.

Drew shook his head, running his fingertips through his hair as he waited impatiently for this kid on the other end of the phone to give him the time and total amount of their food.

"That'll be about 50 minutes for delivery , Mr. Starkey. Sorry. We're busy tonight."

No worries, kid.

Hotties:

@whcclxr @pogueslandia @maybankslut @fashion-fasting @barrysjumpsuit @starkey-babie @beauvibaby @sodasback @soph0864 @rottenstyx @plutooryectors

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added/removed from particular posts. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

[raggaraddy]

Intruders.

Request from @dramaclub-thin: Mafia BTS where the reader is shot for/because of them.

A/N: Another long one. This one doesn't have so much of the worried reaction, cause I wrote it to fit the Mafia! Jungkook character. It's still fun though ^-^ Thanks again for the request. 💜💜💜

If anyone else wants to request, you can here.

Other parts:

Namjoon

Yoongi

Jimin

Taehyung

Summary: When a loose end breaks into Jungkooks house with guns drawn, you get a first-hand lesson that maybe Jungkook isn't as invulnerable as you had thought.

Trigger Warnings: Graphic violence, gun usage, blood, murder.

Jungkook

Mafia! Jungkook

Fighting to get free, you're kicking your legs. Squirming. Squealing as you shove your hands against Jungkook's chest, pushing him back as hard as you can. Tears starting to fill your eye line.

"Stop, stop, stop," you shout, with no effect. Struggling harder.

"Admit it!" He yells back, a smile on his face.

"Never," You scream. Not able to hold it back anymore. Your screech morphs into forceful laughter as Jungkook continues to tickle you. Your cheeks aching from how widely you're smiling. Your sides hurting as you keep thrashing for release.

"Admit I could beat up the Hulk, and I'll let you go." He insists again, pressing you down with a massive grin.

"Okay, okay!" You squeal, finally conceding. Groaning in relief, when his fingers stop tickling your stomach. Your limbs dropping down to rest. "You could totally kick the Hulk's ass." You chuckle, rolling your eyes.

"Damn right I could!" He bursts into laughter also. Easing back with a sigh now that he no longer has to hold you still. Neither of you phased by the movie that started the debate still blaring in the background.

Roughly you punch your fist into his chest, intentionally knocking the air out of him. Taking advantage while he is caught off guard to push him flat onto the carpet beside you. Straddling his lap, you lean over him pinning his arms to the floor before he has a chance to argue. Not that you think he would. The fun-filled smile doesn't leave his face for a moment. Completely amused by you, while you try your best to put on an intimidating act. Trying to stop yourself from smiling again.

"Jeon Jungkook. You cheated." You playfully scold, "And if you can't have a grown-up discussion, then you can't do other grown-up things either." You accentuate your point by grinding down. Feeling his hips push up as you tease him. Lifting up right away, shaking your head as you remove the contact. "Nah uh. Cheaters don't get that." You smirk.

"Don't be mean just cause I won." He runs his tongue inside his cheek. His gaze showing desire and a want for you to continue. But you're not done toying with him.

"You didn't win." You poke your tongue out, rocking your hips a single time more, "Confessions under duress are not admissible anyway."

"No, but it's good leverage to have." He answers a little too honestly and without thinking. Not entirely talking about your play fight anymore.

Chuckling awkwardly, you shake off the train of thought that wants to evaluate what he just said. Not wanting to let your mind remember that part of him right now. Trying instead, to return to your spirited banter. But he gets in before you.

"Nope," He easily breaks out and overpowers your hold wrapping his arm around your waist, carrying you as he stands up. "you admitted I'm stronger than the Hulk, and I'm never gonna let that go." Bending down, he throws you over his shoulder, slapping your ass to tease you back.

His shoulder digging into your gut stops you from taking a full breath or making a snippy comeback. So you slap his ass in retaliation instead.

"Come on Kitten, you have to give me a prize for winning." He purs suggestively, carrying you out of the living room into the foyer.

He's going to take you upstairs, but you don't make it to them before both of your heads snap towards the entrance. A flurry of gunshots exploding just beyond the front door. The commotion silencing as quickly as it started.

Jungkook slings you off his shoulder. Becoming another person in an instant. Purely focused. Opening the coat closet, he pulls a Glock from his jacket.

"Get upstairs, now." He barks.

You don't have to be asked twice, running to the stairs. Gasping as the garage door next to the steps opens, two hooded men storming in with guns drawn. Jungkook reacts quickly, firing past you. Shooting one of them, missing the second who ducks instead of firing back.

At the same time, blowing open to the left of you, the front door is kicked in. Swinging wide, four more masked men rush the house. Firing rapidly and wildly. Scarcely missing Jungkook who is moving preemptively and is 3 steps ahead. Running forward he shoots the second man in front of you. Grabbing your arm, dragging you over their dead bodies into the garage with him.

Shutting you in just as bullets explode through the wood door at your back.

Jungkook forces you to keep up, throwing you behind the car. The automatic shots continuing to decimate. The four-wheel-drive being the only thing that keeps either of you from getting shot.

Panting and on the verge of tears, you're crouched beside Jungkook. Watching him, waiting to react to anything he says. Knowing he is all that stands between you and death. But also knowing that with him in this mindset he could do just as much damage to you as one of those other men might.

The gunfire stops. Distorted voices shouting behind the door's remains. Jungkook cautiously raises up, leaning over the hood. He lines up a shot as the door opens warily, taking down another of them. Slouching behind the car as a new wave of bullets comes in response.

In front of you, the shelves covered in storage boxes and the workbench full of tools is ripped to shreds. Things erupting in every direction. Covering you in debris.

Pulling his phone from his pocket he shoves it in your lap.

"Call the first number!"

Your brain is stalling, your hands are shaking, but you follow the order as best as you can. The way your fingers are vibrating making it so much harder.

"What's up Boss?" You can hear the faint sound of his first lieutenant, as the firing ceasing again. Jungkook snatches the phone, speaking lowly and calmly.

"My house is breached and we're under fire. At least 3 guys. Semi-autos. We're held up in the garage and I've got maybe 15 rounds left." He passes the information over precisely. Remaining organized and in control.

"We're 10 out," the first confirms back, yelling orders to people on his end of the phone.

Your head jolts towards the garage door as it heavily clunks, starting to lift along the tracks. Exposing you on two sides.

"Fuck," Jungkook exclaims. "We don't have 10 minutes."

He stands, staying low. Opening the car door, tossing the phone in, followed by you. Your limbs hitting everything as you try to keep up with his pace. Making it onto the seat in an awkward heap.

"Stay down," he growls, slamming it, sealing you in. You're ahead of him this time, already kneeling under the steering wheel. Pressing your chest and head into the seat as flat as possible.

Inside the car, you can only hear the sounds of blasts for a few moments. Heavy things being thrown in every direction amid tense silences.

Outside the car, Jungkook fires off 3 shots, aiming for the legs he sees as the garage opens. The angle is wrong, and he doesn't hit them. Having to retreat back. Throwing the workbench down, using it as a meagre form of barricade. Blocking himself into the corner, hunched behind it. It's barely wide enough to protect him at the front and on the side. The height of the desk only just covering his head. He aims over the bench, hoping to keep the front two from coming in with suppression fire.

However, his attempt is unsuccessful. As he raises up, a bullet wings his right arm. Involuntarily dropping his gun, he shouts in pain. The Glock falling on the wrong side of the table.

It only takes him a second to compose himself, lunging over to pick up the weapon. But it's a second too late.

One of the men charges from inside the house. Booting the table into Jungkook, throwing him off balance. Holding him at gunpoint as he hits the floor.

Briefly, you see the other two men through the window as they pass the car. You're too terrified to move. Your hand cupped over your mouth, muffling the panicked breathes and whimpers that you can't hold in.

Working as a unit, one of the men clears the table out of the way, another picks up Jungkook's gun, while the third ushers him out of the corner and onto his feet, keeping the sights tightly fixed on him.

Getting in his face, the lead man removes his balaclava. Seething hate filling his expression. "You remember me?"

While he isn't going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, Jungkook is certainly perturbed by the reveal.

It was nearly 5 months ago that he had ordered this man and his family killed. It drew far too much attention when he refused a deal Jungkook made him. So an example has to be set. The man's wife, two children and his visiting brother were murdered in the gruesome display. And Jungkook was told that the man standing in front of him now was also killed. But it seems the men charged with the hit got complacent. They didn't confirm the kill.

Mentally, Jungkook was already recalling the four men on task. If he made it out of this they were going to suffer greatly for their mistake.

Seeming infuriated by Jungkook's lack of fear and stoic glowering, the unmasked man slams his fist into the Mafia King's face. Shouting as he does.

Methodically, the three intruders begin to tear Jungkook apart. He put's up a fight as best as he can, but the men are trained and three against one isn't fair odds in this situation. Knocking him between them, they strike with their knees, fists, feet, hurting him in any way they can manage. Beating him into the ground. Pulling him back onto his knees whenever he drops back or falls forward.

Biting your palm you're trying to stop yourself from crying out as you sob into your hand. You can hear the hits. The thumps from him being tossed around. His groans of pain. The slough of abuse they spit at him while they work him over. Cursing him. Mocking him.

Suddenly, the car door jerks open. One of the masked men dragging you out by your hair. Making you produce an ear-shattering scream. One he silences with a fist to the face. Your body collapsing, slapping into the concrete.

Groaning in pain, your sobs can no longer be restrained. Loudly bawling, tear stream your face, hardly able to breathe as you panic.

Your heart aching as you see Jungkook across from you. Hunched over on his knees, he's gushing blood. It's running down his face. Matting his hair to his forehead with the sheer volume of it. He's splitting it up, his mouth dripping with it. His shirt soaked in it. Flowing down his arm from the bullet wound also.

You'd never have thought you would see your Boyfriend in such a state. You've witnessed first-hand the power he has when he's the one responsible for this kind of damage. In your mind, you saw him as invincible. Unbeatable. A cruel monster driven by hubris that could never be stopped.

The times you'd seen him beat people like this, the times he hit you like this, you had privately desired for him to suffer the same fate one day. For karma to return everything he had dished out.

But now that he was, now that he was the one being treated without mercy, even with it being justified, you can't feel anything but fear and sadness. Regretting ever having wished this upon him.

"Jungkook," you gently call.

He's disoriented. Too many headshots having made him dizzy and unfocused. But your soft voice cuts through all of that. Looking up from the ground to you, his eyes go wide seeing you in harm's way again.

"Y/-" he starts to get up, only to be interrupted and held down. The unmasked man's hand coming down on his shoulder. The barrel of Jungkook's own gun being aimed at his chest as the man hovers over him.

"You know, your guys didn't kill my wife right away." He digs the gun tip into the bullet wound on his arm. Twisting and stabbing into the raw flesh making him grit his teeth to bear the pain. "They shot her where he knew it wouldn't kill her. Then they let her bleed out. While I could only watch. While my kids watched." The pure rage in the man's voice is finally softened. Instead, sounding horribly grieved and agonized over the memory. "Someone like you, you're probably not capable of love," he spits, pushing off Jungkook to stand straight. "But whether you love her or not, I still want you to watch her die."

The words register, but you can't absorb them. You can't react.

"Wait. Wait!" Jungkook yells after him.

Your body is throbbing in terror. Watching him advance on you. Watching him raise the gun at you.

The shot hits you in the stomach.

"No!" Jungkook howls. The two men punting him back down as he climbs to his feet. Extending the barrage of hits to impress upon him that he shouldn't try to get up again.

In shock, you delicately dab at the hole in your side. Blood pulsing out of you. The pain is more than you could have imagined. You can't pull in a full breath. Short gasps are all you can manage. Doubling over onto your hands and knees, you weakly shriek unable to deliver a solid scream.

They drag you by your arm, hurling you at Jungkook, your torso landing in his lap. He clings to you, drawing you in tight. His face twisted in anger.

"Y/n." He growls. "Don't you dare-" he can't bring himself to finish that thought.

"Don't worry darling. It won't take long." The leader says above you, sounding genuinely sympathetic. "You though," he redirects, snarling at Jungkook. "you're gonna die slow."

Not able to breathe and the blood loss is making your head light. The room feels like it's spinning. Your eyes rolling back as they close. The reprieve of rest calling you into unconsciousness. And you can't resist.

With his hand held to your heart and his chest tight, Jungkook feels for a beat. The irregular rhythm assuring him you're still alive at least.

"I hope you really did love her. Like how I loved my girl and my boy. My wife. I hope you can feel that type of pain."

Jungkook is shaking. Unfiltered loathing ravaging his thoughts. A murderous expression concealing his heartache as he feels your pulse gradually start to slow.

Moving begrudgingly like it's his duty, the leader pulls one of the few remaining tools from its place on the wall. Wringing the handle of a large Philips Head screwdriver.

Working together, the three of them rip your unconscious body apart from Jungkook. His efforts to keep you close having little impact. Numerous injuries having sapped his strength.

Stretching him out, holding him down, they pin him with their weight. One of them securing his legs. Another holding his arm and torso, the majority of his heft used to force Jungkook's face into the cement. The leader kneeling all of his weight on his left arm to keep it flat.

As the tip of the screwdriver is pressed into his palm, Jungkook grapples to keep his hand closed to no avail. The shank piercing the meat of his palm. Screaming as the length is stabbed in and yanked out. Hissing through his teeth while the sharp point trails up. Reaching about halfway up his forearm it digs into the muscle. The blade slowly forcing its way into the skin, causing him to roar again.

All at once, a shot rings out. One of the intruders taking a bullet in the back. An assault of gunfire spreading across the height of the garage, sending the other two into a panic. Scrambling for their guns. Releasing Jungkook in the frenzy, who cradles his wounded hand for a moment before jumping on the attack. Finally having sufficient reinforcement to fight back.

Picking up the screwdriver with his good hand, he lunges at the surviving masked man. Dragging him off balance. Straddling his side. Stabbing down and around to drive the tool into his chest over and over. Burying the metal in the man's throat as a final strike. His damaged hand slamming down on the top of the screwdriver, forcing it through the other side of the man's neck.

Some of Jungkook's rage having been vented, he falls away panting watching the man, satisfied as he quickly bleeds to death.

The leader of the assailants, the source of all of this woe, is completely unmatched by the dozen men who suddenly surround him. They don't grant him the opportunity to even raise his weapon, shooting him in the shoulder, knocking him down. Incapacitating him and restraining him swiftly as he tries desperately to get loose.

There are a few seconds when the dust settles, where everything is quiet again. Only the sounds of wheezed breathing and footsteps taking any space.

Apart from the few men busy with securing the house and the area, all of them are at attention looking to assist their battered leader. Wanting to help. Waiting on an order.

"Her," he signals in your direction. "Get her to a hospital."

"You too, Boss." His second lieutenant leans down, helping Jungkook stand. Getting him to solid footing.

"I'm not dying in the next 20 minutes. Let's wrap this shit up first." He dismisses the gesture. Shirking off the pain at risk of appearing weak.

"And this one?" His first aims a gun at the intruders head.

"Patch him up. He's gonna die slowly," Jungkook's voice deepens as he repeats the man's own threat back at him.

His eyes following as he gets picked up and thrown into the trunk of one of the cars. The Mafia leader in him already, concocting ruthless plans in specific detail over all the ways he is going to torture him. And how he's going to silence any doubts about his strength that this attack may have caused.

Carried in another man's arms, you're taken to the back seat of a car. The movement string you awake. The pain keeping you immobilized and dazed.

Jungkook limping slightly follows after you. He presses his hand to your chest again, relieved as he feels your heart still beating, as he sees your eyes fluttering.

Your head laying on the seat, he leans over resting his forehead upside down on yours. "I'm so sorry baby." He whispers. His hands bunch tightly around your arms, pulling at your skin. The war of both sides of him crashing together. His eyes going cold, his breath becoming ragged.

Struggling to remain conscious, your eyes close again. Jungkook's bloody hand slapping down on your face, shocking your eyes back open. Tears instantly returning to your cheeks.

"Don't you dare die!" He hisses. His hand curls around your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks. "I'm not going to let other people think they can come at me. Take my things. Try to hurt me." He growls, speaking just loud enough for only you and him. "So you're gonna keep living Y/n. Cause until I give you permission, you don't have the right to die."

[haetzro]

.moonlit pussy

genre: smut

word count: 1.6k

warnings: smut, edging, unprotected sex (always wear protection!!!), explicit.

you knew what you were getting yourself into. renjun rarely got mad, always keeping his aggression at bay, not wanting to do anything brash, so you knew what you were getting into.

yeah maybe it’s a bit petty to make renjun jealous cause he was paying less attention to you, but desperate times cause for desperate measures, no?

you had spent the day with renjun and his friends and let's just say he wasn’t happy. With you being overly sweet to jeno and cooing at jaemin second to start was a bit of an irritance, but renjun wouldn't be angry at that. you knew he wouldn’t. so that’s why you and chenle were flirting with each other, your best friend catching on quickly to your goal and immediately helping you, a smile quirking onto your face when you caught renjun sucking in a breath or poking his tongue on his cheek. he was sure to catch onto your goal, and you both knew the outcome of this.

he finally reached his limit when you sat on chenle’s lap for the movie, not taking his eyes off you for five minutes.

“yeah, i think it’s time for me and y/n go. it’s getting late, and we have classes tomorrow. right babe?”

you send renjun a small smile, biting your tongue from screaming out a loud yes. “yeah, just gimmie a second i forgot my coat in the kitchen.” renjun’s smile is stiff as you and him say bye to the guys, chenle sending you a large grin which you reciprocated behind renjun’s back.

as you were walking into the kitchen, you feel renjun’s intense gaze on your back, making you smile in anticipation.

“uh, hold on i can’t find my—”

“coat?”

you look back at your boyfriend, who is holding up your fur coat in between his two fingers.

“babe, if you had it the whole time why wouldn’t you just give it to me.”

you cross your arms as renjun walks towards you, feigning annoyance. your boyfriend gives you a small smile, handing you your jacket, while leaning into you.

“you may think i’m stupid my love, but i’m far from that. when we get home, i pray you realize we’re doing anything but sleeping, for tonight i’m putting a whore like you in your fucking place.” you squirm as you feel renjun’s hot breath on your ear, looking back at him as you bite your bottom lip, a gentle smile on his face yet his eyes way darker thank you remember last.

“now, let’s go home.”

.

“no!”

you cry for what feels like the hundredth time that night, your cunt pulsing harshly as your boyfriend rips yet another orgasm from you.

his eyes are heavy with darkness as he watches you sob and whine, feeling heavily pleased with your current situation. “what’s the matter, my love? what’s with the aggression?” you whimper pathetically, body shivering from renjun’s fingers stroking your stomach and thighs, obviously ignoring the burning heat between your legs.

“please...please.”

renjun quirks an eyebrow at your pleas, hair falling in front of his moonlit face, most certainly amused at you.

“what’s with the sudden change of attitude, bub? from what i remember you were being a pathetic slut whoring around with all my friends.” he chuckles in between, before shoving his three fingers into your soaking cunt, earning a loud squeal from you “see i knew you were a cock loving whore, but wow, that was quite a lot. i’m sure you must be satisfied by now. i mean, you got what you wanted, am i wrong?”

a sob rips from your throat, as you feel your orgasm building up harshly.

“no, no! please, only want your cock. just wanted attention! please don’t—” you wail as you feel renjun pull his fingers out of cunt once more, making you thrash around while you sob.

“you don’t fucking tell me what i can or can’t do to you, am i clear?” you could only cry more, feeling at loss with your building orgasm, breath ragged making you feel out of loop.

renjun only watched silently, before getting off the bed to look for something. he brings back his belt, while looking at your tear ridden face. “hands up, don’t try any funny business.” you weakly bring your hands up above your head, letting out small sniffles.

renjun wraps his belt around your wrists harshly, checking to see any uncomfort in your face.

“remember your safe word?” you nod meekly, staring up at your the man above you.

renjun scowls slightly, before asking with more force, pulling at the belt.

“do you remember or not?”

“yes sir.”

“good. spread your legs.”

you spread your legs, slightly wincing as you take in the sticky slick between your legs. you don’t have enough time to think about the mess between your legs, before you catch renjun putting your vibrator between your legs. your eyes widen before looking up at your boyfriend before you, who only gives you a small smirk.

“any complaints, baby, and you won’t be cumming at all”

before you can even process his words, renjun presses the vibrators remote, obviously putting it on the third highest.

“oh fuck.”

the lower half of your body trembles, and you can feel the tears in your eyes build up once more. you bite your lip, trying to process the overwhelming amount of pleasure.

renjun, who was watching from across the bed, notices. he scoffs before turning up the vibrator once more, smirking as he hears the high squeal you let out, even more pleased at your trembling legs.

“renjun please, please!”

he doesn’t move from his space for a few moments, taking in your sobs and gasps, before getting up from his space and moving in between your thighs, watching as you were practically gushing from your heat.

“look at how wet you are baby. it’s so pretty.”

it was pretty. with the moon being the only light source in you and renjun’s room, it made your pussy look sparkly.

you could only whine, as you were a blubbering mess over the fascinated man. your breath is stuck in your throat as you feel renjun move the vibrator up and down your folds, occasionally pressing against your clit.

the burn in your stomach was becoming to much to bear, and you didn’t think you could go through another ripped off orgasm.

“renjun! i can’t, please, i need to— oh!”

renjun still keeps moving the vibrator for the next two seconds, before he removes it once more.

you tremble violently, while you let out a cry.

renjun turns off the vibrator, while you sob underneath him, before holding his dick at your entrance. he rubs your folds with his dick teasingly, earning some mewls from you. you look back up at him with your teary eyes, and see your boyfriends eyes darken more than they did last.

“please…”

he smiles at you sinisterly, almost as though he’s mocking you.

“you’re so fucking pathetic. you put an act up because, what, you couldn’t handle having the attention you get? you’re such a fucking slut. can’t go on without getting cock, can she?” you shake your head with the little strength you had “only wan’ your cock.”

he cocks an eyebrow up, an amused glint in his eyes.

“my cock, huh. do you even fucking deserve it, kitten?”

you mewl at the pet name, before nodding your head enthusiastically, the leftover tears in your falling down your cheeks.

“please. promise i’ll be a good girl.”

renjun smiles at you, before easing into you gently, causing you to gasp. fuck he could’ve given you a warning. you both groan as renjun bottoms out, taking time to adjust to one another.

“you ok?” you nod at him, moaning lightly as you feel him twitch in you.

renjun moves back, the tip of his dick being the only thing inside you, before he rams back into you roughly, removing any air you had left in you.

you squeal and sob, letting out little yelps here and there, renjun cursing from above you, obviously just as affected as you were, your walls pulsing repeatedly on his cock, not relenting at all.

“can any of the boys fuck you this good, huh? can they make you feel as good as i fucking do?”

you could barely answer, loud cries escaping your throat as renjun fucks you with absolute vigor, hitting every type of spot in you. he was so deep, you were sure you could feel his dick in your stomach if you were coherent enough to look down and not just think about his cock and his name only.

you could feel the same burn building inside you, except it was different and more urgent.

“oh fuck fuck fuck.”

you let out, squeezing harshly on your boyfriends cock, who only groans loudly above you.

you wail, squeezing your hands into fists as you feel yourself teetering over an edge.

“renjun, i— fuck.”

“wanna cum baby? go on.”

you scream as you let go on renjun’s command, and squirt uncontrollably over his cock, back arching off the bed.

“fuck.” you squeeze on renjun’s dick so hard, causing him to cum right after you, painting your walls with his semen, making you let out a broken cry, squirting a bit more at the feeling of renjun’s warm cum.

you both pause for a few moments, renjun squeezing your waist occasionally, trying to calm down your trembling figure.

he drops to the side of you, careful to not remove his dick from your heat.

“you ok baby?” you nod at him tiredly, melting into the feeling of his hands in your hair.

“let’s sleep yeah? we both won’t have classes until later in the day bub. i’ll clean you up before i wake up, hm?” you smile at him, feeling warm from your boyfriends overwhelming affection.

“love you.”

“love you more, baby.”

you both cuddle against each other, before drifting into an empty sleep.

.note: i hope y’all liked it. i’m actually scared that y’all won’t, lol. anyways. goodnight, it’s like 1:04 in the uk so, bye my loves.

[peggyrose19]

Walking a Wire

Alright disclaimer here: I personally like Jules and Katie together (no it’s not just because of @onlydreamofmysoul‘s speak now fic, what gave you that idea) BUT @ttylfedora gave me this idea ages ago and so now it’s happening. Characters from @lumosinlove <3

“Hey Re? I uh, I need to talk to you.” Remus looked up from his book at his younger brother standing in the doorway, fingers curled nervously. At 17, Julian was almost as tall as Remus and still had a love of hockey, ice cream sundaes, and his brother. Not much had changed in the past eight years. 

“Sure bud, what’s up?” Remus asked.

“Well, y’know how you are Sirius are…well, together?”

“Have been for the past eleven years, also married to the guy, but go on.”

Julian didn’t seem to notice his brother’s sarcasm. His next words came out in a rush, “I think… I think I might want that with Marc. Just, I don’t know how to ask. I think he likes me but I can’t be sure and-”

“Wait,” Remus interrupted. “Do you mean Marc Dumais? Like, your best friend, the son of Pascal Dumais, the one on my team, that Marc?”

“Um. Yes?”

Remus blinked. “Okay, continue.”

“Oh. Um, well… I just- how did you do it?” he blurted out, still not meeting Remus’ eyes.

“Do what?” Remus asked gently, suddenly aware of the fact that his little brother just came out and asked for dating advice all in one breath. 

“You know. Ask Sirius out for the first time.”

“Oh. Well, I didn’t actually.” Remus huffed a laugh at the memory. “It was kind of an accident. We just sort of danced around each other for a few weeks until- '' He stopped, glancing over at Jules, a conversation from earlier surfacing in his mind. “Aren’t you going over to Dumo’s for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, why?” Jules frowned.

Remus swore under his breath. “Dammit Pascal.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just… be honest. When you talk to him. Just, tell him the truth.”

“But how do I know if he feels the same way?”

Remus shrugged. “You don’t. You just… take the leap, I guess. And hope for the best.”

“Okay. Um. I can do that. I think. Oh God, what if it goes wrong? What if he hates me? What if-”

“Jules, hey hey hey,” Remus soothed. “It’s going to be okay. Marc isn’t gonna hate you, I promise. You just need to talk to him. And whatever happens, I’ll be here for you, alright?”

Julian took a shaky breath. “Okay. Okay, I can do this. I can do this.” 

“You can do this.”

“You can do this.” Jules repeated the words under his breath, hearing Remus’ voice echoing in his head. “I can do this.” Shaking out his hands, he knocked on the door.

Dumo answered with a bright smile, unchanged in the decade Jules had known him, and ushered him inside to the bright lights and warm atmosphere.

“Jules!” he said, pulling him in for a hug. “Glad you could come.” He turned around and shouted up the stairs, “Marc, Julian is here!” 

A pattering of footsteps sounded from upstairs and a moment later dark curly hair appeared at the top, Marc’s lanky form following as he rushed down the stairs. 

“Hi Jules!” he crowed, jumping the last step and landing before them. Jules swallowed around the lump in his throat at the sight of his best friend. “Come on up.” 

Marc headed towards the stairs once more with Julian in tow, Dumo calling after them, “Dinner in 30 minutes mon fils.” Marc just nodded vaguely. 

“You wanna play video games?” he asked Jules, shutting the door to his bedroom behind them. 

“Um, sure,” Julian answered nervously, perching on the edge of Marc’s bed. He normally sat there, perfectly comfortable, but today it felt different. Marc glanced at him curiously but said nothing, just handed him a controller and pulled up the game. 

Marc could tell Julian was nervous about something. Normally he had to work to beat his friend in a game, but today it was easy. Julian’s heart wasn’t in it, his eyes distracted and nervous.

“You okay?” he muttered at one point, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“Fine,” Jules replied, and it only cemented Marc’s worry. He paused the game. “What-”

“What’s wrong?” Marc demanded, turning to face Julian. 

“Nothing,” he mumbled, not meeting Marc’s eyes. 

“Jules…” 

Julian sighed heavily, looking anywhere but his friend. Marc frowned.

“Jules?” 

“Ilikeyou,” Julian blurted out, and froze. Marc stared at him.

Julian had never been the impulsive one. He could be easily convinced, sure, but he didn’t blindly jump into things. He thought them out, however briefly, and then made a decision. Julian had a softness about him, an innocence he didn’t see in anyone else. But there was intelligence behind it that Marc had always admired. That made him love the wide-eyed boy sitting next to him.

He had never imagined him loving him back. 

“Are you sure?” He didn’t mean to ask it, knew that Julian was already second-guessing himself and wanting to take everything back, but it was the only thing he could find to say.

Julian blinked at him and nodded.

Marc breathed out, “Good,” and leaned forward and kissed him. 

Julian wasn’t entirely sure he was breathing when Marc’s lips touched his. He was frozen, the world spinning in circles around him leaving him helpless to do anything. But Marc was soft beneath him, lips like mint, curls falling in his face as he pulled back, and Jules couldn’t fight the hand that raised to brush them back. 

“You kissed me,” he breathed out, hand still in Marc’s hair. 

“I did.” Marc’s voice was steady, confident. He’d always been like that, Jules thought a bit nonsensically. Steady. His rock in a storm.

“Why?” Marc’s eyes twinkled as he smiled. 

“Because, Julian Lupin, I’m in love with you.”

It was easy, to say the words. Marc had always thought that first time would be difficult, it always seemed to be in the movies. But the confession fell from his lips like honey and Julian’s responding smile was worth all the gold in the world. 

“You do?” Julian croaked out, and Marc smiled and kissed him again.

“Yes.”

Marc wasn’t sure what he was expecting after saying that, but he certainly had not expected Julian to lunge at him, knocking him to his back on the bed. He laughed as Julian kissed him, harder than the first time, body a heavy comforting weight above him. 

“Hi,” Marc said breathlessly as Jules pulled back, pressing soft kisses to the lower side of his jaw. “I didn’t think you’d react like this,” he laughed. 

Julian huffed. “How did you think I’d react then?”

“I’m not really sure, but it wasn’t like this.” 

“Hmm.” Jules laughed a little, and leaned up to kiss him again. “Good or bad?”

“Good, are you kidding me? Fuck me, this is like a dream come true.”

“A dream come true, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Julian pulled away, settling on his chest with a sigh as he looked at him, with his red lips and mussed hair, blue eyes wide and dancing with amusement. 

“This isn’t what I expected either,” he admitted, fiddling with a curl of Marc’s hair.

“No?”

“To be honest, I didn’t expect you to feel the same way at all. I thought I was gonna ruin our friendship.”

Marc cocked his head. “Then why did you say it?”

“Re told me to. Said it wouldn’t ruin anything. And it seemed to work for him and Sirius so,” he shrugged. 

“I’m glad you did.” 

Julian couldn’t fight a grin. “Me too.” he leaned down and kissed Marc again, reveling in the fact that, after so long watching and wanting, he finally could.

“Hey Jules?”

“Hmm.”

Marc smiled and said against his lips, “Will you go on a date with me?” Julian just laughed in response and kissed the words from his mouth.

“Of course.”

And if Dumo was listening outside the door texting Remus live updates, well, they didn’t need to know that.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Tell the Truth

Prompts: aaaa the way you write angst is just *chefs kiss* wonderful. I’ve been really enjoying the butterfly project series, it has made me cry multiple times. May I request some fluff to balance the angst? - anon

Excuse me while I sob over Redemption Never Came and politely grabby hand for more angst with a happy ending (Roman angst my beloved) (Also you are an amazing fanfic artist :D) - anon

This is so heartbreaking and whumpy but so soft in the end and I would devour a second part about everyone trying to help undo all the negative patterns they've all instilled in Roman and just showing him affection and everyone's hearts breaking a little more each time he's surprised they actually want to be around him. - LadyofhteWoods

And now a part of me wants to see all those scenarios again, only this time Roman gets loved- walk in the kitchen, get a hug. Sit on the couch? Cuddle pile. Go on a quest? Bring friends, if hurt, patch up and movies. Crying in bed because you had a bad time and your brain is screaming that you suck and a wave of depression has rippled through you and you feel horrible? Have some tea… cry it out…. We’re here. - A_tiny_star_prince

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: self-doubt, self-deprecating thoughts

Pairings: dlampr

Word Count: 7688

Roman lies. A lot. Maybe it's time they did something about it.

Roman’s lies don’t vanish overnight. How could they? When he’s so used to repeating them, over and over, in a horrific little mantra before he goes to sleep, how can he be expected to get rid of them in only one night?

That doesn’t make them less difficult to hear.

Janus is downstairs, helping Virgil fold up one of the blankets strewn about the living room, when he winces and hisses.

“J? You okay?”

Janus nods, jerking his head upward. Virgil follows his gaze and winces too.

“…Princey?”

“I think so.” That’s a lie. He knows it’s Roman.

“I got this,” Virgil says quietly, taking the blanket from Janus, “you go. He seems to let you help more than he lets us.”

He never really had the choice to let me.

Janus swallows heavily as he appears outside Roman’s door. The lies aren’t nearly as poisonous as they were a few days ago, but they’re strong enough to curl his tongue at the bitterness in his throat. He raises a hand to knock on the door.

The lies falter for a moment before another one floats through.

Don’t come in.

He smirks, gently pushing the door open to meet a darkened room.

“Impressive,” he says softly, making his way over to the figure in the bed and perching on the end, “that could’ve been one of mine.”

He’s rewarded with the quietest of huffs before a head shyly peeks out at him from the covers. Janus smiles and tilts his head.

“Hello, sweetie.”

“Hi.” Roman shuffles a little. “Sorry. Didn’t realize I was summoning you.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Janus glances around the room. His computer is off and shut. The bathroom light and fan are off. He looks back. “Can I help, sweetie?”

A shuffling of the blankets that’s probably supposed to be a shrug.

“Let me come find you, then,” he murmurs, standing and moving to where the head was a moment ago, “how did you get this many blankets on top of you?”

He slowly starts to move them out of the way, peeling back layer after layer, only briefly wondering whether or not Roman can breathe properly under these. It’s a careful act, one he treats with the same reverence as cleaning his gloves or his scales, creating a little cocoon of blankets as he gets further and further into the covers.

The last one puffs just the slightest amount, up and down.

So you can breathe, good.

Janus doesn’t move this one all the way out of the way, just lifts it up enough to peer inside. Roman’s little face peers back at him, partially covered by another blanket clutched tight to his chest. He looks so…child-like.

The realization makes something warm turn in Janus’s chest.

“Knock knock,” he says softly, “anyone home?”

Roman blinks. “Mm.”

“May I come in, sweetie?”

“Mm.” Roman jerks his chin toward Janus’s clothes. “Lose the sharp bits.”

Janus snaps his fingers, transforming his usual clothes into a soft yellow shirt and sleep pants. “Better?”

“Mm.”

“How did you manage to get so many blankets balanced on your bed,” Janus asks as he slips beside Roman, “mine always fall off after three.”

“Practice.” Roman shifts to make room.

Janus frowns. “Come here, sweetie, let me cuddle you.”

“You don’t have to.”

The frown deepens. “Sweetie?”

Roman buries his face a little deeper into the blanket. “You don’t like cuddling. Virgil an’ Remus said so.”

Oh, Roman…

“Come, sweetie,” he insists, tugging Roman gently into a proper hug, “there.”

“But—but—“

“I may not be as big a fan of cuddling as you and Patton,” Janus says firmly, cupping Roman’s face, “and I’m certainly the type that enjoys being tackled by Remus—“

Roman snorts.

“—but you’re upset,” he finishes gently, “and I want to help.”

Burden.

Needy.

Don’t understand boundaries.

Don’t deserve help.

Janus hisses. Roman sighs.

“Sorry.”

“No need for that,” he assures, still cradling Roman’s face as he pulls him close, “I understand. It’s alright.”

“I know, and I—I don’t want you to leave, but—“ Roman swallows— “I just—I still don’t believe you’re here.”

Janus wraps a pair of arms around Roman’s waist and squeezes. “I’m real, I’m here.”

“I just—“

There’s another lie swirling in Roman’s brain, too nebulous to make it all the way to Janus, but present enough that it makes his mouth tingle. He leans down to kiss Roman’s forehead.

“…you said it was your job to protect the Ego.”

“That’s right, sweetie, it is.”

“I guess I…I just…”

Janus gives Roman another encouraging squeeze. Roman brings the blanket further up his face.

“…I guess I figured that if you—if you could h-hate me that much or h-hurt me that badly and not—not care, then you…maybe you…”

Janus’s heart clenches as the lie finally makes itself known.

Not worth protecting.

He pulls away, shushing the heartbroken whine that Roman makes, taking off his gloves and wrapping every arm around the poor thing. He presses another kiss to his forehead, letting the hiss out into his hair.

“That’s not true, sweetie,” he promises, “and you’ll never know how sorry I am for hurting you and letting it get this far.”

And the poor thing is so tired, so weary that he goes limp in Janus’s arms, save for the blanket clutched tightly to his face. Janus frowns, opening his mouth to say that might be a little uncomfortable, what with Roman’s arms tucked between them, when he starts putting the pieces together.

Roman is still wearing a fair amount of clothing, he’s got something pressed up against his face, under his chin, and he’s got so many blankets piled on top of him that even Janus feels warm.

“And here I thought I couldn’t feel more rotten,” he whispers, carding one hand through Roman’s hair, another scratching gently between his shoulder blades, “but you must be in agony.”

A questioning hum is let out against his throat.

“You’re still touch starved, sweetie,” he says in way of answering, squeezing a little tighter, “are you still cold?”

There’s a soft rush of breath as Janus cups the back of his neck and then a noise is just about torn from his throat as he uses it to pull Roman close.

“Oh, shh, shh, you poor thing,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to his cheek, “I’m right here, sweetie, I won’t leave you.”

They lie there for a while longer, Roman’s arms slowly lowering the blanket until he shyly puts his arms around Janus in return.

“There you go, sweetie,” he encourages, “hold onto me, that’s it.”

“Why—why are you letting me hug you?”

“Because it seems like you’d like to hug me.” Janus squeezes him again. “You don’t need to have a reason, sweetie, if you need a cuddle, you can have one.”

I need a reason. I need an excuse. I need an argument. I have to convince you.

Another hiss. “You can always ask for hugs, sweetie, you don’t need to convince me to hug you.”

“…really?”

Oh, Roman… “Yes, sweetie, you can ask any of us.”

The wave of disbelief that hits him makes him grit his teeth.

“I promise, sweetie. I promise.” Another kiss to his forehead. “You’re not unwanted, you’re not a burden.”

The silence he gets implies that Roman may not want to prove that—or disprove it—for himself right now.

“…can we just stay here for a bit?”

“For as long as you need, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, settling them in for some rest, “for as long as you want.”

——————————

Patton is in the kitchen, the first one downstairs this morning. There’s already a pot of coffee brewing and he sets the kettle up on the counter. He reaches up to pull the mugs for everyone. The plain black one for Logan, the Nightmare Before Christmas one for Virgil, the sparkly one for Remus, and the blue puppy one for himself. He frowns.

Roman used to keep his mug down here too. This really big red one with a golden crown on the side. He hasn’t seen it in ages.

Footsteps on the stairs.

He turns and sees Roman walk into the kitchen, smiling brightly as if there’s nothing wrong in the world, not a seam or stitch of his prince costume out of place. He strides into the room like he owns it, as if he’s just come down the stairs in his resplendent palace to a crown of adoring onlookers.

“Ah! Patton!” Goodness, he speaks like it too. “Good morning!”

“Roman!” Patton rushes forward and wraps him in a hug.

This is where everything goes wrong.

Roman tenses. Not in a way that means he wants out, but out of sheer surprise. Patton waits for Roman’s arms to wrap around him but instead, there’s just a very, very soft touch to his shoulder.

“Patton,” he asks quietly, “are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m great, kiddo, why?”

“W-well, you’re…you’re hugging me.”

“Sure am.”

“…why?”

Suddenly Patton feels very cold.

He pulls back, not enough to let Roman go completely, but enough to look up and see a truly heartbreaking look of confusion on his face. He can’t help the soft noise that comes out of his mouth as he raises one hand to his face.

“Are you asking why I’m hugging you?” Roman nods. “I want to hug you, kiddo. You’re hug-shaped.”

“I’m…what?”

“Hug-shaped,” Patton repeats, tugging him a little closer with the arm still around his waist, “you’re worth hugging, I like hugging you.”

“O-oh.”

And Patton has to watch as every scrap of confidence falls from Roman’s expression, his shoulders slump, and he looks like he loses some of his height, even. The shift is so drastic that it almost springs tears to his eyes at how much Prince Roman suddenly looks like a lost child, swimming in a costume too big and too heavy for him. Roman face contorts as he looks at a spot on the counter, furrowing his brow as if it’ll explain everything to him if he just glares hard enough.

There’s something fragile about the way Roman leans into Patton’s hand, something breakable about how warm he is right now. Patton shifts his weight to his other leg and there’s a flash of panic in Roman’s eyes, quickly stifled but there.

“Oh, kiddo, I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, pulling Roman back in for a proper hug, “I’m right here, it’s okay. You just let it out, okay?”

Roman’s breathe shudders a little into Patton’s shoulder. Then he starts pushing Patton away.

Patton listens, confused, until he watches Roman shake himself and put the mask of the prince right back on.

“Terribly sorry,” he says in the awful, awful cheerful voice as he rakes a hand through his hair, “don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t,” Patton blurts before he can stop himself, “don’t do that, sweetheart.”

“Don’t do what, Padre?”

“Don’t pretend,” he says, reaching out for Roman again, “you don’t have to pretend you’re okay. Or that you don’t want something.”

“I don’t like being needy, Patton,” Roman says in a soft voice that’s just this side of wobbly, “and you don’t like me needy.”

And doesn’t that just feel hot and guilty in Patton’s throat?

“I like you, sweetheart,” he says instead, “and you’re not being needy if you want comfort or even just a touch. You’re allowed to want something, Roman, you are.”

Roman huffs in disbelief and turns.

“No, Roman—“ Patton hurries to get in front of him— “you are.”

Something flickers across Roman’s expression. Patton doesn’t even need Janus to tell him that Roman thinks he’s walking into a trap.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Patton says quietly, “I’ve hurt you so much, haven’t I? I’ve made you think that your job is wrong, that you—that you’re wrong and you’re not, kiddo. You’re not wrong. You’re not awful. I promise.”

Roman’s lip wobbles.

“Oh, come here, sweetheart,” Patton coos, wrapping him back in a hug, and finally, finally Roman’s arms come up to wrap around him too, before he’s being squeezed so tight it borders on painful.

Patton doesn’t care.

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart, I promise.” He rocks them back and forth a little as Roman buries his face in his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, I know we will.”

They stay like that until the kettle goes off and Roman startles, jumping back a little bit. Patton soothes away the last of the jitters and smiles, watching Roman look like…Roman. Not the Prince, not the horribly lost child, just…just Roman.

“I think that’s my cue to make you the biggest mug of hot chocolate you’ve had since Christmas,” he says quietly, “now what mug would you like?”

Roman glances at the cabinet. “Anyone is fine.”

“Then why don’t you go grab one while I get the hot chocolate?”

Patton busies himself with the box, purposely letting Roman have his privacy as he picks out a mug, trying not to make his smile too blinding when he turns and sees Roman shyly hold out a big red mug with a sparkly crown.

“Good choice,” he says softly as he takes it from him, “I missed this mug.”

Judging by the way Roman’s mouth curls up in a little smile, he knows what Patton meant.

——————————

Virgil walks into the room and sees Roman sprawled out across the chair. He almost doesn’t see it.

He’s got to give it to Janus; even though he knows he can hear lies, he’s not sure he would’ve believed that they were actually coming from Roman. Because Roman looks the fucking picture of relaxed right now. It looks like he saw Patton and Logan on the couch and decided there wasn’t enough room for him to take up as much space as he wants. It looks like he’s occupying the entire fucking corner and not just the chair. It looks like he’s every bit the arrogant prince they used to think he was.

Then he sees how tight his jaw is and the slight tremble of his hands.

The room isn’t warm, there’s no reason for Princey to be shivering. There’s certainly no reason for him to be so tense as he sits in the chair, tapping a pen against his cheek in a fabulous impression of mindless thinking but is actually a carefully controlled way of preventing himself from moving any further.

He’s gotta hand it to him. Princey’s good.

Virgil walks up to Roman and shoves his hands into his pockets as Roman looks up.

“Dark and Stormy,” he says in a perfected casual lilt, “is there something I can do for you?”

And wow, okay, if this is what Janus hears all the time then Virgil has no idea how he fucking does it.

Janus hears lies, Virgil hears fears.

Please don’t make me leave.

If you want the chair I’l give it to you, I’ll move, I’ll sit on the floor, I’ll be quiet, but please don’t make me go. I want to stay, please, can I—can I stay? Is that okay?

Virgil tilts his head. “Move the book.”

Roman furrows his brow. “What?”

“The book.” Virgil nods to the notebook in Roman’s lap. “Move it. Move your arm.”

Confused, Roman does as he asks only to squeak in surprise when Virgil pronounces it perfect and plonks himself in Roman’s lap.

“Virgil!”

“Yeah?” Virgil pulls out his phone and leans his head against Roman’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

“You—you’re—“ Roman still doesn’t move— “you’re in my lap.”

“Sure am.” Virgil looks up at him and lowers his voice to a whisper. “No?”

Roman’s voice drops too. “What?”

Virgil indicates his weight. “No? This okay?”

“Y-yeah, it’s fine, I just—what?”

In lieu of a verbal answer, Virgil reaches behind him to take Roman’s free hand and pull it close, tucking it under his chin and clutching it there. Roman’s hand trembles. He finds himself absentmindedly running his thumb over the knuckles, the palm, the fingers. He keeps his eyes on Roman’s face.

Roman’s other arm lowers, gingerly resting on Virgil’s legs. Virgil smiles and squeezes his hand.

“I’m sorry, Princey,” he whispers, “I’ve been fucking awful to you.”

Roman’s face twitches. “…so have I.”

“What, been awful to me or awful to you?”

For a moment, he thinks Roman’s just going to say that he’s been awful to Virgil. Which, yes, he was in the past, but not like Virgil’s been. But instead, Roman opens his mouth and shakily whispers: ‘both.’

“I know, Princey.” Virgil squeezes his hand again. “You’re all good with me, and we can…if you want, I can help with the second part too.”

Roman’s eyes widen and godfuckingdamnit that hurts.

“I gotcha, Roman,” he says softly, lacing their fingers together, “and ‘m sorry I haven’t been there for you recently.”

Roman swallows, Virgil’s eyes drawn to the roll of his throat. “You…you want to help me?”

Roman, you’re gonna ruin my reputation of not having a heart by smashing it into fucking pieces.

“Yeah, Roman,” he reassures, “I wanna help you. You’re important.”

“I am?”

“Sure are, Princey.” He lightly knocks his head against Roman’s. “And if it ever feels like I don’t believe that, call me out on my bullshit. ‘Cause that’s bullshit.”

“What are you two muttering about over there?” Patton shakes his head fondly when Virgil decides to just turn his head upside down instead of turning around. “Virgil, that’s not good for your spine.”

“We’re metaphysical, Pop-star, who cares?”

“When you start complaining about neck pain,” Logan says wryly, “me.”

He glances up too and Virgil hides a smirk at how his face softens when he spots Roman’s expression.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes,” Roman says hurriedly, “everything’s fine.”

“It’s Hug Roman time,” Virgil says immediately after, “so I’m hugging Roman.”

“I think that’s less of a hug than you sitting on his lap,” Logan says, standing, “but we’ll never fit all of us on that chair.”

Virgil feels more than hears Roman’s inhale as Logan and Patton start moving the couch cushions to the floor. He sits back upright just in time to see Roman’s hopeful face and butts his head against his again.

“Come on, Princey, let’s go.”

“…are you going to stand up, or…?”

“Or you could carry me.”

“Virgil,” he hears Patton chide.

“No, no,” Roman says, “it’s fine, I can carry him if he wants to be carried. I will need my hand back, though.”

Okay, yes, Virgil does enjoy Roman carrying him a bit too much for altruistic purposes but it’s worth it when Roman goes to gently set him down and the other two pull him down instead.

“There,” Logan says softly as Roman’s head comes to rest against the base of the couch, “much better.”

Roman opens his mouth to say something when Logan’s hand tangles in his hair and it turns into a slightly strangled sound. Patton chuckles, wrapping his arms around Roman and sighing softly.

“Hey, who wants to play a game?”

Remus’s head pops up from behind the couch.

“We’re already playing a game,” Virgil says, “it’s called Cuddle Roman, now get your butt down here.”

Remus gasps. “My favorite!”

“Okay good,” Virgil mutters as he moves out of Roman’s lap to make room for Remus, “I totally thought he was talking about butts.”

“I have a feeling, my dear,” Janus sighs, striding from the shadows and totally not making Virgil jump, “that it’s both.”

Remus just cackles. Janus takes a seat, reaching out to take one of Roman’s hands in his. Roman frowns at him slightly, his head still spinning from the amount of people around him.

“What—is there something wrong?”

Janus shakes his head. “It’s Hug Roman hours. So I’m here.”

Vigil chuckles at the blush on Roman’s face. “So this is becoming a regular thing, right?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Indeed.”

“Yay!”

Remus just holds his brother tighter.

——————————

“…come in.”

“If you’d like to reschedule, Roman, it’s no trouble, I’m happy to…”

Logan trails off as he walks into the room, Roman’s back to him as he hunches over a table near the door to the Imagination. He shuts the door quietly behind him and tucks the notebook under his arm.

“Roman?” He takes a step forward. “Are you alright?”

“Never better, Specs,” Roman says cheerily, too cheerily, “just give me one moment and I’m all yours.”

Logan frowns. “If you’d like to reschedule, Roman,” he repeats, softer this time, “I can assure you, it’s fine.”

“No, no, that’d be rude.” Something crinkles in Roman’s hands. “Just—just one moment.”

There’s a heavy clunk and a barely contained hiss.

“Roman—“ he starts forward— “are you hurt?”

“Not hurt.” Another clunk. “Just…incredibly clumsy, it seems.”

“Can I help?”

If he weren’t paying attention, he would miss the way Roman’s shoulders tense with disbelief.

“N-no, that’s alright,” Roman says, the first time his voice has slipped, “I’m just…no, it’s alright.”

He jerks his head toward the desk, being very careful not to let Logan see his face.

“It’s over there, I’ll be with you in one moment.”

Logan looks, then walks over to the desk and carefully sets down his notebook. He glances up at Roman and can’t stop the soft noise at seeing Roman’s hands shake and fumble with a large bottle.

“Roman,” he calls softly, “Roman, please.”

Roman freezes.

“…please what?”

“Let me help you,” he says, walking over, “let me help you with this.”

Roman shudders and tries to laugh again. “You don’t need to busy yourself with inane and worthless tasks, Logan.”

Oh. Oh, dear.

“You’re not inane or worthless, Roman,” he says firmly, “nor are you a task.”

Roman’s shoulder is cold under his hand. He cups it nonetheless and leans closer, mindful to keep his gaze down and away.

“Please?”

Under his hand, Roman sighs. “…if that’s what you want.”

He’s not prepared for when Roman turns around, a bottle of micellar water in one hand and cotton ovals in the other. His makeup—done so wonderfully this morning—is smeared and wearing away, his nose bright red under the concealer. Logan lets out another soft noise, taking the proffered items and gently pushing Roman to sit on the table.

He takes one of the cotton ovals and gets it damp, cupping Roman’s chin in one hand.

“Let me know if anything starts to sting or hurt,” he instructs softly and starts to clean the smudges from his face. Roman sits perfectly still, his gaze down at Logan’s tie. His hands fold neatly in his lap and he looks every bit the cooperative ideal.

Except for the way he looks terrified every time Logan so much as shifts his hand.

“You are not worthless,” Logan says quietly as he works, swapping out the cotton ovals when needed, “you are not annoying me. You are someone I care about very deeply and someone I enjoy helping.”

Roman’s chin wobbles.

“I am always impressed by the ideas you create,” he continues after quietly bidding Roman to turn slightly, “and you never cease to amaze me with your creativity.”

Roman’s throat works against his hand as he swallows. “Remus—“

“Remus is Remus,” Logan interrupts gently, “turn—yes, there you go—and you are Roman. You are clever, you are kind, and you are wonderful, and I care about you very much.”

He takes a new cotton oval and takes Roman’s chin again, tapping gently until Roman makes eye contact.

“Close your eyes,” he bids, “and let me know if they start to sting at any point.”

Roman closes his eyes and Logan carefully, carefully starts to clean off the eyeshadow. The golden sparkles are stubborn, clinging to the skin, but he works patiently until the last of them come off. He realizes after that the oval is wetter than it was when he began.

“Oh, little star,” he breathes, glancing around and summoning a soft washcloth to clean Roman’s face the rest of the way, “it’s alright, you can cry if you need to. I won’t mind.”

“It’s stupid,” Roman mutters, raising a hand to swipe angrily at the tears, “it’s stupid.”

“If it’s making you upset, it’s not stupid.” Logan gently but firmly places Roman’s hands on his own shoulders and replaces them with the cloth. “Tell me?”

“I—it’s not even a quest.” Roman’s voice cracks horribly on the last word. “It’s just—I was making something and it broke and I—I worked really hard on it and now it’s ruined.”

Logan lets out a soft noise. “I’m sorry.”

His chest aches when the apology makes Roman shake himself. “It’s fine. Sorry, I didn’t want to just dump that on you.”

“I asked you to tell me what was wrong,” Logan chides, patting his cheek dry, “you’re not dumping anything on me.”

He sets the cloth aside and cups Roman’s face with his hands.

“And I am also sorry,” he whispers, “that I have made you believe that I do not worry about you the same way I worry about Thomas.”

Roman’s eyes fly open. “You—you what?”

“I care about you very deeply, Roman,” Logan says, “you’re very important to me. So yes, of course, I worry about you. You’re upset, and I’ve made you feel like you can’t come to me. I…I have not behaved well toward you. And I will remedy that.”

A new wave of tears meets Logan’s thumbs carefully swiping them away.

“Bonk?”

Roman leans forward and lets Logan rest their foreheads together. After a moment, his hands move to give Roman a proper hug, leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead.

“What were you making, if I may ask?”

“…just a house.” Roman sniffles. “It got destroyed in the last brainstorm.”

“Would you like help?”

“…don’t we have to work on the ideas?”

Logan smiles, resting their foreheads together once more. “This feels more important, doesn’t it?”

Roman’s small but warm smile is more than worth the extra hours they’ll have to spend working on the videos.

——————————

Somehow they forgot.

Somehow they forgot that Roman was scared of the dark.

It wasn’t common that thunderstorms plagued the Imagination, simply because—well, Thomas didn’t need literal brainstorms when he’s got Logan working with him. Sure, sometimes Remus decides he’s going to make his entrance extra cliché and arrive in a literal flash of lightning. Or Roman will create a field of flowers larger than the eye can see and soft bruised purple clouds will roll across the sky, quiet thunder and light rain that feels like a cushion.

But it’s never enough to cause a blackout.

For a moment, they’re all just confused. Thomas’s apartment is fine, Thomas is fine, so they don’t understand what’s happened. Then Remus points out that they, uh, maybe didn’t close the door to the Imagination as tightly as they should have.

He gets smacked upside the head for that.

So they’re here, in the middle of the dark, trying frantically to figure out how to not run into everything. Well, three of them are fine. Virgil can see in the dark. Janus can see in the dark. Remus can see in the dark.

“Is that because you’re the Dark Sides,” Patton mumbles as he puts his glasses back on for the fifth time in the past minute, “or do you each have some kind of ability?”

Remus smiles, even if Patton can’t see it. “It’s more fun!”

“That doesn’t—“ Logan pinches the bridge of his nose— “that doesn’t even answer the question, Remus.”

“I think you’ll find that’s his justification for most things,” Janus says wryly, taking Patton carefully by the arm and guiding him to sit on the couch, safely out of harm’s way.

Virgil elbows Remus to get him to put down the Morningstar, please, and sits down next to Patton. “How long is this going to take to go away?”

Remus shrugs. “Dunno. Probably won’t be that long. We all just gotta sit tight.”

Janus raises a hand to his mouth—not that Logan can truly appreciate his expression—and mock gasps. “Remus, suggesting that we don’t do anything?”

“Oh, fuck off, Snakey.”

“Language!”

Remus blows a fat raspberry. “Even I know it’s a bad idea to try and do something right now. I mean ask Roman—“

It takes a moment for them to realize that Roman isn’t sitting there.

“We should go get him,” Logan says after a moment, “just to make sure we’re all in the same place.”

And with that, Remus is off, stomping up the stairs and conveniently forgetting that two Sides can’t see past the little pinpricks of light at the bottom of the windows. Virgil rolls his eyes and makes to stand, only to frown.

“Virgil?” Logan touches his elbow when he notices him pause. “Are you alright?”

“Feels like I’m being summoned.” He rubs his chest absentmindedly. “But not really.”

“Well, let’s just keep an eye on—hey!”

Virgil doesn’t even hear the end of Logan’s sentence before he’s yanked into another room.

He blinks, disoriented, shaking his head to figure out where he is. Only when Remus bursts up the stairs and pouts that how dare Virgil sink out to beat him here does he realize why he’s here.

Judging by the way Remus’s face falls a second later, he does too.

Remus knocks lightly on the door. After a moment, he curses and goes to knock louder.

“Don’t,” Virgil mutters, grabbing Remus’s arm, “you’re gonna freak him out more.”

“Well, I can’t just blow the fucking door open,” he growls, shaking him off, “that’s gonna make it worse.”

He opens his mouth but another sharp tug from his chest makes him wince. “Okay, then don’t bust it down. Just—oh, god, we gotta get in there.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

Remus doesn’t rear back and kick the door open, which says something about how concerned he is. They can’t see much of anything except for—

—oh.

Oh, no.

Roman notices immediately when the blackout happens. How could he not? He’d been in the middle of trying to sort out his journal for the day when suddenly he was drowning.

Oh god.

Oh, god.

Within an instant, his chest seizes. He can’t see. He can’t see. There’s something—

No. No, it’s fine. He’s in his room. Everything is fine. Because he’s safe. He’s in his room, he knows where everything is, he knows what everything is in here, he’s fine.

There’s nothing here to be scared of. There’s nothing here to be scared of.

So why is Roman so scared?

He shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t be. He’s a prince, for Disney’s sake, he’s the protector of the Mindscape, he’s—he’s—

He’s Prince Roman. Not some newly minted squire crying because he’s away from home for the first time and it’s all dark and scary and he can’t see anything because he doesn’t know what’s going on and he can’t tell where anything is and he swears he can see things moving in the shadows and—and—and—

Roman shoves his fist in his mouth before he can whimper.

No. No. He’s fine.

He’s fine.

…besides, what would the others say?

He’s a prince. He’s Roman. He’s not some scared weak thing. He’s just—he’s just—it’s—it’s—

They can’t see him like this. He’s supposed to be strong. He’ll never be taken seriously if they don’t see that he can be strong. They don’t take him seriously already, do they? Let alone if they could see him in the dark, alone, hyperventilating, terrified.

But he is.

He’s—he—

Something moves.

Oh, god, something moved.

He freezes, goes absolutely still, tries frantically to still his heaving chest, be small, be unnoticeable, his pride doesn’t matter right now, it doesn’t, he’s not gonna be hurt if he can’t be seen—

“Ro-Bro?”

His next inhale is a whine.

No, no, not Remus—he can’t—not Remus, Remus is strong, Remus will laugh at him, Remus loves the dark, he can’t cry in front of Remus, not for this—

“Oh, Ro-Bro,” he hears through the haze, “Ro-Bro, I’m so fucking sorry, I forgot, hey—hey—“

He won’t cry. He won’t cry. He won’t cry.

“Hey,” Remus calls, tugging carefully at the hand clapped over his mouth, “hey, don’t do that, Roro, you’re gonna hurt yourself, stop it, it’s gonna fucking hurt if you do that, you know that—“

The sob that tears itself out of his throat as Remus pries his hand away hurts his ears.

“Hey, Roro,” Remus soothes, taking his hands and squeezing them firmly, “hey, you gotta just be here for me, you focus on me, okay?”

“Re—“

“Come here, Ro.”

Remus scoops him up into his lap. To hell with whatever is twisting around in the shadows, Remus is holding him in his lap, rocking him back and forth and Remus is of the dark.

A rush of shame through his stomach and the first real sob into Remus’s shoulder hurts.

“Nuh-uh, Ro,” comes the mutter over his head, “don’t hold it in.”

The shame only grows. Then Remus tightens his grip until it’s all he can feel.

“I’m right here, Ro, I’m right here. It’s okay. You can be scared.”

“N-not scared.”

A gentle hiss in his ear as something—someone presses against his back and more arms than he can count wrap around his chest.

“Shh, shh,” Remus murmurs as he starts, “it’s just Janny.”

“Boo,” Janus whispers as he presses a kiss on his shoulder. Why—why is he here—did he—did he lie too much? He’s not scared, he’s not scared—

“Shh, sweetie,” he whispers as Roman starts to flinch, “I’ve got you, you’re okay, sweetie, stop that. We’ve got you.”

“You’re scared, bud.” Is that—is that Virgil? “Hey, hey, buddy, we got you. I’m sorry, Roman, I forgot you were so scared of the dark.”

Can’t be scared, can’t be scared—

“Shh, shh, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “stop that. You’re allowed to be scared, it’s okay. You don’t have to be ashamed of it.”

Virgil presses closer, nudging Janus’s head out of the way and replacing it with his own. He leans down to nuzzle into the crook of Roman’s neck, finding the place his collar digs into his neck and loosening it. Curse him. Curse him.

“Hey, bud,” Virgil murmurs, “you’re okay. You’re okay.”

“N-no—“

Janus hisses gently in his ear again.

“No—“ Roman’s breath hitches— “no, no, no—“

“Roman,” comes Logan’s warm voice from somewhere above him, and no—

“Give him to me,” he hears again after a moment, and when he feels Remus’s arms begin to loosen and Janus pulls away he mewls—

“Hush, little one,” Logan says softly, gathering the poor prince into his lap, “you’re safe, you’re right here, it’s just a blackout.”

“You’ll—“ Roman hiccups, his hands still pushing Logan away from him— “you’ll laugh—“

“Never,” comes the chorus, Logan’s arms firmly around his waist. Then another pair of hands covers his and pulls them away.

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton murmurs, gently but firmly placing his arms around Logan’s neck so Logan can cuddle him properly, “sorry it took us a little longer to get here, we had to take it slow up the stairs.”

“Pat—Pat—“

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Patton coos, crouching down to run a hand through his hair as Logan tucks him into the crook of his neck and Virgil rests his head on his shoulder, “we’re all here, it’s okay.”

“Stupid—st—stupid,” Roman mumbles, “I’m stupid—“

Another hiss, followed by a kiss to the nape of his neck. “Stop lying, sweetie,” Janus whispers, “stop it. You’re not stupid.”

“I’m a prince afraid of the dark,” Roman spits out, disgusted, “of course I’m stupid.”

“Falsehood,” Logan murmurs with more tenderness than Roman can remember, “you’re not stupid. You’re not.”

“I’m crying because I’m afraid of the dark,” he spits again, “I’m af-fraid of the dark—I’m afraid of the dark, I’m—I’m afraid—“

He’s afraid of the dark.

Patton presses a kiss to his forehead. “I don’t like the dark either, sweetheart.”

“You’re—you’re not—you’re not crying—“

“No, I’m not.” Another kiss. “But you are, Roman, and that’s okay.”

“Come on, Princey.” Virgil butts his head gently against Roman’s. “You just gotta breathe first, okay? We’re not going anywhere.”

Remus calls from somewhere over his shoulder—what has he been doing? Where’s he been?— “come on, I got all the pillows.”

“Re?”

“Come on, Ro-Bro,” Remus murmurs, appearing at his other shoulder, “close your eyes.”

“It’s already d-dark, Re.”

“I know, but I don’t wanna get the blanket in your eyes.” Suddenly, there’s a swath of fabric hitting him in the face. “It’s just for a moment, Roro.”

“Ready?” Logan scoops him up. “Up we go.”

“H-how can you see?”

“He can’t,” Janus says, suddenly appearing behind him, “but I can. Come now, my prince, we’re just over here, come on…”

Roman lets out a soft noise of surprise when his back hits something soft.

“Snap yourself into something more comfortable, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “we’re all just going to stay here for a while.”

Patton takes his hand and kisses the back of it as Logan helps tug down the t-shirt he’s poofed himself into.

“I’m sorry,” Roman mumbles, “I’m sorry I’m so scared.”

“None of that now, sweetheart,” Patton chides, cuddling into his side—oh, Patton’s in soft things too now— “you’re gonna be taken care of now. We’re right here.”

“I’m right here, Ro-Bro,” Remus says, promptly flopping down over Roman’s legs, “and no one else is going anywhere.”

Virgil huffs, curling around his head and ruffling his hair. “He’s right, Princey. Just relax for a little.”

“H-how long is the blackout going to last?”

“I don’t know, sweetie,” Janus says, snuggling into his other side, taking his hand between two of his, “but we’ll be here the whole time. Now please, sweetie, breathe.”

He tries. But it’s still dark and even though he knows the others are here, he can still feel the darkness pressing in on top of him. He can still see things moving in the shadows. He can feel it. He can see it. It hurts.

“Roman,” comes Logan’s voice, warm in the dark, “Roman, listen to me.”

“L-Logan?”

“Yes, dear,” he says, “it’s alright. Virgil is by your head, and he can see in the dark.”

Virgil gives his hair a little tug. “Right here, Princey. I’ve got you.”

“Patton is on your left. He won’t let anything hurt you.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Patton kisses his cheek. “I won’t leave you.”

“Janus is on your right. He can also see in the dark, and it’s his job to protect you.”

Janus leans down to kiss his temple and squeezes his hand. “My prince,” he murmurs tenderly, “my sweetie.”

“And Remus…”

“Nothing’s laying a fucking finger on you, Ro-Bro,” Remus growls from down by his feet, “they’re gonna have to get through me first.”

Logan chuckles. “See?”

“L-Logan?”

“I’m right here, little star,” he says softly, “what do you need?”

“W—where are you?” Roman’s hands tense in Patton’s and Janus’s. “Where—I—I can’t—“

“Hush now,” Logan says, so softly, so softly, as a hand cups his cheek to brush away his tears, “I’m right here, I know you can’t see me. I’m sorry. I know it’s dark. I know you’re afraid. It’s okay, my dear, shh.”

Roman tries to reach out for him only to be thwarted by the grip on his hands.

“Hush, Roman, it’s alright, what can I do?”

“S-stay, please, stay—I want you to stay—“

“I’m right here, can I—“

“Please—“

He almost sobs again with relief when Logan lies down, his head tucked over his shoulder, curling his arms about his waist.

“We’re right here, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “we’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Patton kisses the back of his hand.

“It’s okay to be scared, Princey.”

“We won’t let anything happen to you, Roro.”

It takes another half an hour for the storm to end and the lights to flicker back on. Roman stays tucked up in their arms, their soft words in his ear, gentle hands wiping away his tears, until he can blink up at all of them and murmur ‘thank you.’

“Of course, sweetie.”

“We’re here for you, Roman.”

“It’s no problem, Princey.”

“We’ve got you, kiddo.”

“All you gotta do is ask, Roro.”

——————————

Remus knocks on the door, the present in his hands. Roman opens the door and tilts his head.

“Re?”

“Can I come in, Ro-Bro?”

“Yeah, yeah, come on.” Roman shuts the door. “What’s up?”

“This is for you,” Remus says, holding out the box.

“Oh—Remus, I didn’t—I’m sorry—“

“You didn’t miss anything, Ro,” Remus says quickly, “and I’m not expecting anything in return. Just wanted to give you something.”

He shuffles.

“And I, uh, I also haven’t really apologized for the shit I’ve done to you, so…it’s that too.”

“O-oh.” Roman clutches the box. “Thank you, Remus. Can I open it now?”

“Sure.” He watches as Roman carefully opens the box and pulls out the stuffed octopus.

“Oh, Re, this is so cute!” He holds it up, looking at the little face. “I love it, thank you.”

He turns it over.

“Wait, what’s…”

“It’s a mood toy,” Remus says quietly, “if you flip it this way, it’s happy.”

The cream side of the octopus has a little smiley face.

“And if you turn it inside out—“ Roman flips the plush so that a red face frowns at him— “it’s sad.”

Roman’s eyes widen and he looks up at Remus.

“I know you find it hard to ask for things,” Remus says, edging a bit closer, “so I thought this could…help.”

“Re…”

“And I—oof!” Remus lets out a grunt as Roman tackles him onto the bed. He chuckles, his arms wrapping tightly around his brother. “I’m glad you like it Roro, just promise me you’ll use it?”

He gets his request a few days later.

It’s been quiet, Thomas is taking a break, and they’re all in various corners of the living room. Janus and Virgil are lazing about in the patch of sun by the window, Patton is in the kitchen, Logan is working on something on his laptop, and Remus is toying with the grip on his Morningstar.

Roman walks down the stairs and he’s clutching a little red octopus.

“Hey, Ro,” Remus says quietly, hopping up and scurrying over to meet him as he comes down the stairs, “you wanna go be alone?”

Roman shakes his head, pushing gingerly into the living room. Remus turns to see everyone paying attention to them, including Janus, who’s sat up fully and is reaching out to Roman.

“Come here, sweetie,” he calls, “is your brain being a bastard?”

Distantly, Remus hears Patton huff at the language but no one says a word as Janus gathers Roman into his chest, bending to murmur softly in his ear. Virgil scoots closer, acting as the guardian, letting Roman relax with the knowledge that nothing will surprise him right now. A gentle tap on Remus’s shoulder and he turns to see Logan, who bends closer.

“What do we do to help?”

“Help me make a mattress big enough for all of us?”

Under Logan’s guidance, Remus manages to make a normal mattress with lots of comfy blankets and pillows. Patton comes from the kitchen with a glass of water set on the table near the three on the floor. He pauses as he turns and quickly sets a cup of tea next to it.

Roman’s grip on the octopus doesn’t lighten up, even after he’s been in Janus’s arms for a while, even after Logan’s gone over and helped Virgil walk him through coming out of the spiral. Janus walks over to Remus and Patton and quietly tells them they should try and get them all to eat something. Nothing too straining for Roman’s system, but something.

Patton brings out a few bowls of snack food and sets them at the foot of the mattress. Then he goes and gently cards his hands through Roman’s hair.

“Come on, kiddos,” he says softly, “let’s move to the mattress.”

Logan scoops Roman into his arms, depositing him safely in the center of the mattress, little red octopus in tow. The rest of them cuddle around him, some Disney movie playing on the TV. Roman eats, then lays his head on Remus’s shoulder. Logan takes Roman’s free hand into his lap and cradles it there, stroking it with his thumb.

About halfway through the movie, Roman turns the octopus so that the cream side smiles at the screen too.

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If you want to be added/taken off the taglist let me know

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

My dearest bouncey! I have a prompt for you if you like: Witchers as a 90s/2000s boyband 😂🤷‍♀️💖💖💖

Ellie, darling, this started as 500 words and turned into like 3.2k words and also a piece of art so... thank you so much. also shout out to my amazing art pal @mawbwehownets for the little comic!!

this contains lots of 90′s/early 2000′s nostalgia so there is also that

tw: hornyish, smooching, perilous music video situations (corny)

---

“Do I have to?” Geralt groans, letting his forehead thud down against the linoleum surface of their tour bus’s shitty dining table.

“Yes,” Vesemir says. His tone leaves no room for argument or whining. “But what if I let you pick the winner personally?”

“There have to be like fifteen thousand letters to go through! How will I manage that in less than two days?”

“There were a few more than fifteen thousand applications, Geralt. There were probably closer to five hundred thousand.”

Lambert wolf whistles and Aiden claps.

Geralt grimaces and keeps his face hidden against the table, releasing a slightly muffled: “Fuck.”

“Language,” Vesemir frowns. He tugs gently at Geralt’s loose ponytail and the singer lifts his head up from the table again, looking at his manager with beseeching eyes. “Anyway, we’ve narrowed it down to about fifty. You can go through those and choose whichever person you’d like to play your love interest. But you have to give me an answer by Friday. The shoot is in three weeks and whoever wins this stupid competition will need time to make arrangements.”

“I thought we were footing the bill for their food and their hotel room,” Geralt raised an eyebrow. “What would they need to arrange?”

“Not everyone can board their pets at the flick of a wrist, dude,” Lambert scoffs from his seat on the couch. Aiden lies draped across his lap, as usual, and the two of them are halfheartedly watching The Lion King. They can only watch movies when the bus is stationary, otherwise the VHS player might move too much while running and damage the film inside the cassette. Even taking advantage of such a rare opportunity, Lambert and Aiden still seem more interested in each other than Jonathan Taylor Thomas’s voice acting. 

“Lambert has a point,” Vesemir sighs. He scrubs his hand over his lightly whiskered face like a tired grandparent and sighs again, more heavily. “It’ll be good for you boys to have a normal person around for a few days. Maybe they’ll be able to put some things into perspective.”

Geralt can only roll his eyes a little bit and thank his manager regardless of his own feelings; he and the rest of TW5 owe the seasoned musical expert their entire careers. Without Vesemir’s help and mentorship they would never have made it past their first disastrous record deal. They certainly wouldn’t have reached the heights they’re at now, enjoying international fame and recognition. 

The begrudging frontman accepts a heavy plastic bin of file folders from Vesemir and sets them down next to his bunk. “Are these organized in any particular way?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.”

Geralt digs his hand into the pile and pulls out a piece of pale-pink stationary, eager to get started and, by extension, get finished. He can already tell that it’s going to be a long couple of days.

---

“I want this one, please, Ves.”

“Huh?” Vesemir looks up from his palm-pilot. Geralt is standing in front of him and trying to hand him something. 

“I want this guy to be in the music video with me.” Geralt holds out the letter again, fingers trapping the accompanying polaroid headshot with great care. A pair of bright blue eyes stares up from the photo, highlighting the subject’s bright smile and unruly mop of messy brown hair. Vesemir tries to hide his amusement; totally Geralt’s type, if the big oaf could admit to having one.

“Alright. I’ll get everything in order. We start shooting in two and a half weeks so get your asses to the gym, please.”

“Yes, Ves,” all five young men chorus. 

“Tomorrow,” Coen mutters a moment later than everyone else, not glancing up from his composition notebook. Vesemir nods in understanding. Coen is the best lyricist of the lot and it’s easier to let him work when inspiration strikes than beg him to focus when he can’t get a solitary idea to stick.

“So why’d you pick that one, Ger-bear?” Lambert drawls. Aiden nods and leans against Lambert’s side. Geralt can’t help the mild jealousy that overtakes him every time he sees his bandmates touch each other with such casual affection. He wants that intimacy, that softness behind the veneer of famous indifference. He wants someone to hold. 

“Yeah. What drew your attention to that poor unfortunate soul. Was it the floppy hair, the big blue eyes, or the dopey grin?” Aiden smirks.

“Hmm.”

“Fuck you,” Eskel sighs, looking between the two troublemakers with the tired gaze of an eldest sibling, “Fuck you for even asking in the first place and expecting a straight answer.”

“Straight is the furthest thing from his answer,” Lambert chuckles. He is promptly smacked in the head with one of the couch’s hideous throw pillows. The youngest member of the band rubs the side of his face and chuckles, “Alright, I deserved that one.”

---

“Holy shit!” Jaskier practically screams. “Holy motherfucking shit!”

“What!?” Yennefer comes flying around the corner. “What’s wrong!?”

“Nothing is wrong, Yenna! Everything is awesome! Everything absolutely fucking rocks!”

“Did you get hit on the head by a falling branch between here and the mailbox or what? You were whining about your finals work not five min-”

“Look at this!” Jaskier shoves an open envelope into her hands and cuts her off. Yennefer reads the watermarked documents once. Twice. Her eyes almost pop out of her head when the words and their meanings finally sink in. 

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No, I am absolutely not!” her giddy roommate cheers, bouncing up and down in place. “I did it! I won!”

“Holy shit.”

“I know! I get to kiss Geralt deRiv!” he practically cackles. Then freezes. “Holy fuck I get to kiss Geralt deRiv.”

“You said that already,” Yen teases. She shoves the paperwork back into his hands and grabs a takeout menu from the junk drawer near her hip. “Since you won the makeout lottery, you get to buy lunch. Lucky bastard.”

---

“So this will be your dressing room,” someone’s underpaid PA says, ushering Jaskier into a small, bright room. “Priscilla will be here shortly to get you into hair and makeup.”

“Oh, uh- thanks!”

“Yup.”

And with that, the young man disappears back down the hallway toward the sound stage. Jaskier jogs his leg anxiously as he waits for Priscilla to arrive, nervous and otherwise totally alone in the huge grey building. As the minutes tick by and his heart rate rises, Jaskier’s intrusive thoughts make an unwanted appearance: What if they forget about me being here? What if there’s been a mistake and they accidentally hired two love interests and I just sit in here for hours all alone while-

“Hi!” a bright, peppy blonde woman flies through the door and startles him back to reality. “Nice to meet you, I’m Priscilla! You can call me Priss; I’ll be doing your hair and makeup for the video this week!”

“Oh… hi. I’m Julian, but I prefer Jaskier.”

“Lovely! Well, Jaskier, is your hair naturally this color?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Perfect! I don’t want to mess with such a lovely shade of natural brown, but do you mind if I give it a bit of a trim? I have a few ideas for styles right here in my book- How do you feel about some feathering back here? I think-” she fluffs a few of the hairs around the nape of Jaskier’s neck “-I could really bring out the curls if I adjusted the length a bit and used some product.”

“Just, uhm, go for it, then! Feel free to make me as pretty as possible!” Jaskier declares. He’s committing to this experience wholeheartedly, determined to allow himself every opportunity for positive change. He wants to really let himself enjoy it, and he needs a haircut anyway. Priscilla spends an hour washing, cutting, drying, and styling his hair into a lovely fringed sweep across his forehead. It ends just above his brows, giving his face a slightly softer shape than usual. He grins over his shoulder, “I love it! I’m going to miss you when I’m back at Oxenfurt. Good stylists are so hard to find.”

Priss blushes and nudges against his shoulder, “Oh, you little charmer.”

“I mean it,” he says, examining himself in the mirror. “I look like I could really be worthy of a heroic rescue! This is going to be such a fantastic memory, and I appreciate it. Thank you so much.”

Priss bites back a genuine tear and smiles, “Now that your natural prettiness has been mildly enhanced, let’s get you over to wardrobe, shall we?”

“Wardrobe? Do I have, like, a costume? What’s the music video even about?”

“They didn’t tell you any of this when you got here?”

“Not… not really.”

“Well, my darling, I think you’re really going to like it; they’ve got you in Versace for the first scene.”

“Versace!?” 

Then Jaskier is being ushered into a bright, colorful room full to bursting with grim-faced, middle-aged women and he loses track of his only braincell for the rest of the morning.

---

“You must be Julian!” Lambert declares, bounding up to him and grinning. It’s a feral, animalistic grin and Jaskier resists the sudden urge to take a step back.

“I prefer Jaskier, if you don’t mind too much,” Jaskier corrects him quietly. Lambert rolls his eyes in a long-suffering kind of way and throws a meaty arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, completely ignoring the wardrobe technician’s wincing as he wrinkles the expensive silk jacket. 

“No need to be quiet and polite around here, my dude. We’re just a bunch of rowdy idiots, aren’t we, guys?” 

“Hell yeah!” Aiden calls back. Eskel sighs like the put-upon nanny in a Victorian Redanian comedy. 

“Speak for yourself,” Coen barely lifts his frosted tips up from his book long enough to speak. Geralt is-

Holy motherfucking Britney Spears on toast.

Geralt is the hottest thing Jaskier has ever seen in his short, unfulfilled-until-right-now life. Forget Ralph Macchio. Forget Leonardo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet and Winona Ryder. This man is… Geralt deRiv is… he’s the picture of perfection. And he’s right there, standing in front of an elaborate party set with his thick, beautiful arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on the floor, as if willing it to swallow him whole. Jaskier realizes that he probably didn’t have any choice in the matter; maybe this was just as awkward and uncomfortable for Geralt as it was for Jaskier. 

“Ger-bear!” Lambert whoops, yanking Jaskier closer to the brooding frontman. If only he were brave enough to struggle for escape; alas. “This is your boy-toy for the week. Goes by Jaskier, apparently.”

“Nice to meet you,” Geralt manages to grunt. “How did you like the script?”

“I haven’t uh- I haven’t actually seen it?”

“Shit. Fuck. One second,” Geralt huffs, disappearing into the crowd of technicians and machinery operators and PAs. Jaskier loves him already, for real. Sure, he was pretty in the music videos and promo material, but the way he said fuck like it was the noblest word he could think of… Geralt interrupts his train of thought by coming back with a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand. He shuffle-shoves them into Jaskier’s arms immediately. “There you go.”

“Thank you!” Jaskier smiles. It’s genuine and shy, more tenuous than his usual goofy grin. He flips through the pages, glancing between the script to his expensive suit, “So I’m guessing we’re at a party for this scene? Or something?”

“This is… where we meet. This is where… you and I uh…”

Jaskier’s eyes scan the page as Geralt’s ability to speak slowly leaves him. 

Lover ENTERS LEFT, dressed to the nines. Lover adjusts their tie/boa and takes a look around the room. S/He looks sad and a little hopeful. PULL BACK to Geralt, who approaches slowly. Their eyes meet. HOLD SHOT. PULL BACK as they move towards each other. Geralt pulls Lover into his arms and they begin to dance.

“Oh, wow.”

“I hope it’s okay! If you’re not comfortable with that kind of thing we can-”

“I’ll be alright, thank you. I came here to put my acting chops to the test. Well, that and meet my favorite band, of course. Thank you again, by the way. It’s been wonderful so far and I really appreciate you allowing me to be here.”

“Allowing? Psh. Geralt ha-” Lambert is cut off by Aiden, who elbows him sharply in the side. “Ow! What the fuck, babe?”

“I knew it!” Jaskier crows, distracted. “I knew you two were an item!”

“They’re not exactly subtle.”

“They never confirm anything either,” Jaskier retorts. Geralt shrugs his acknowledgement and moves back towards the set. Jaskier follows after the taller man like a lost puppy, eyes flicking from one thing to the next, hungry for detail even in his anxiety ridden state. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and he doesn’t want to waste a solitary second of it. “This is incredible, really just...wow. You guys do this all the time? You get to make tiny little movies for already great songs that you get to perform for millions of adoring fans? And you get paid!?”

Geralt hadn’t ever really thought about it like that. He’d been raised in the industry. He’d signed to Kaer Morhen Records as an early teen because his mother was a member of the Board of Directors and he’d been making music ever since; an outsider’s perspective to things was… new. A little strange. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty much what we do.”

“Wow.”

“It’s not that exciting, I promise.”

“Have you ever written a fifteen page paper about the history of lute-string design and manufacturing?” 

“No.”

“Then kindly shut the fuck up about what I should consider exciting,” Jaskier grins. Geralt is immediately and irrevocably smitten. Fuck. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes! “So, which door am I entering from?”

“Left,” Geralt points. Jaskier skips over and begins to introduce himself to the sound and lights crew. His smile seems to be as infectious as his cheer and soon the entire set crew is smiling at one another. There’s been a literal shift in the atmosphere; if he didn’t know any better, the TW5 frontman thinks Jaskier might be some kind of magical creature, because he can’t just be human. Geralt is well and truly fucked, and everyone in the band already knows.

---

“What do you think?” Jaskier asks, slipping anxiously from behind the changing screen. The Versace is gone and in its place are a pair of tight, high-waisted blue pleather pants and a billowing white shirt, which has been strategically ripped in several places to reveal slivers of the lightly tanned skin that lies beneath. He looks like he’s in desperate need of rescuing. He looks like every fantasy Geralt has ever had about the perfect guy. He looks like a fucking dream.

“Nice,” he says.

Lambert and Aiden wolf-whistle and cheer as they approach. Aiden claps twice, loudly, and shoots Jaskier a set of finger guns, “Hot damn, baby. You single? You lookin’ to mingle? Because I am bi and spoon like a Pringle.”

“First of all, babe, I love you but that was the most horrific combination of words yet known to man. Second of all, yeah, I’d dump Aiden for you for sure,” Lambert adds. Jaskier is at a total loss for words. His mouth hangs open and his breath comes in uneven little gasps for a moment.

“Uh… I- Thank you?”

“Oh god, Eskel! Eskel, he’s short circuiting, do something.”

“You absolute-” Eskel groans and makes his way over to the gathered group. He tugs Jaskier away and over to the other end of the set, where a comically huge rocket/bomb (Jaskier can’t tell) is standing at the center of a vaguely science-themed room. A laboratory, maybe? Or like, a really weird spacecraft? A hospital run by rocket scientists? It doesn’t matter, it’s the Evil Lair of the Villain and that’s where Jaskier is being held captive. “Here, Cameron and Elise will help you get set up for the next scene. I’m sorry about the boys they’re... gay?”

“I understand,” Jaskier nods sagely and Eskel relaxes. Then for comedy’s sake he adds an equally dramatic, “I too am... gay.”

The set dresser, an electrician, and a few specialists (likely a rope rigger among them) come over and tie Jaskier to the bomb/rocket/villainous mechanism, ending his conversation with Eskel, who is now in a much better mood than he was before. 

Jaskier is told to make sure his hands are crossed behind the small of his back and the director instructs him to wiggle back and forth “as convincingly as possible without actually getting loose or moving the ropes too much”. Which is manageable, he supposes. 

“Then, when the chorus comes up, we’ll get a few shots of the boys dancing in front of you,” the director continues to explain. That’s… kind weird, but okay. I’ve seen weirder. “Then we’ll do the action shots, with Geralt rescuing you. Are you okay to do the kiss, or would you rather not? We have dynamic shots with or without, so it’s totally up to you.”

“I’m fine with that,” Jaskier smiles shyly. “I consent to be smooched.”

“Adorable,” Lambert calls. Jaskier blushes and the director shoots Lambert a glare. 

“He’s already pink enough, don’t make me change my gels you little shithead!”

“Sorry, Pierre!”

“Fucking sorry my ass,” Pierre grumbles beneath his breath. Then he smiles at Jaskier. “Do something nasty to him for me, will you? Not too nasty but… just a little?”

“I’ve got your back,” Jaskier winks. 

“No plotting! Not fair!” Aiden whines.

“You have a team,” Pierre retorts. “Now I have a team.”

“Rules are rules,” Eskel sighs. “Now can we please shoot this damn video?”

“Right,” Pierre claps, getting everyone’s attention. “Places!”

---

Geralt races up the stairs, trying to keep the long sleeves of his black mesh shirt from catching on any of the set pieces. The solid black t-shirt he’s wearing underneath makes his arms and back look bulkier than normal; it’s a visual technique to make him look larger than Jaskier, whose billowing white shirt will hide how wide his shoulders actually are. Fuck, those are some nice shoulders. And the smattering of dark chest hair that peeks from the front of the college student’s shirt? Geralt wants to bury his face in it.

Okay, focus. 

He reaches the top of the set and rushes towards Jaskier, ripping the ropes from around his torso and pulling him close. He cups the back of Jaskier’s head with his upstage hand, framing the slightly smaller man for the camera and making him seem even shorter, another trick of angles and body posturing. Geralt plays Jaskier like an instrument, bending him back by placing his downstage arm around Jaskier’s waist, pressing their mouths together and holding them still for as long as it takes the director to yell, “Cut!” with a satisfied tone of voice. 

Geralt’s suspicions are confirmed when Pierre laughs and claps some more and cries, “Print it, lads! That was a one-take wonder!”

He tries to ignore the way Jaskier’s shoulders slump as if disappointed. “Good job,” he manages to say.

“You, too.” Geralt wishes he could keep a picture of Jaskier smiling in his back pocket forever. No other sight could light up the world so effortlessly. “Thanks for being gentle.”

“I’m trying to sweep you off your feet,” the singer shrugs. Jaskier wiggles his eyebrows and follows Geralt down the narrow set stairs.

“Are you, really?”

“Is it working?” Geralt asks, turning to look up at Jaskier. The student pauses to look at him and his foot catches on an uneven board. He topples forward with a short cry of surprise and seems surprised when Geralt reaches out to catch him. “Jaskier!”

“Oh my god!” Lambert races over, Aiden hot on his heels. “Are you okay, dude?”

“I’m fine,”  Jaskier laughs, a little breathless. “Just a little shocked.”

“You should take him to get a snack or something,” Eskel says, nudging his shoulder against Geralt’s. “He’s been busy all day and hasn’t even been to craft services.”

“You haven’t eaten?” Geralt asks, honestly baffled. Jaskier shakes his head, face heating once again. He wishes he could stop blushing, but Geralt’s presence seems to make it impossible. He wraps one arm around the younger man’s temptingly slender waist and leads him towards the food carts. He shoves a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of punch into Jaskier’s hands, not giving him a chance to argue. “Here, I’ll have something, too.”

“Thanks,” Jaskier smiles, understanding that he is, in turn, being understood. They sit comfortable folding chairs off to the side, food spread across their laps. Jaskier laughs and chats around his mouthfuls, pulling things from Geralt like his favorite color and his least favorite nicknames. Songs he liked and dances he disliked. 

“You made it fun again, today,” the singer smiles. “Thank you for that. I wish you could be here for every video shoot.”

“Looking for another member of the band?” Jaskier jokes, doing some half-hearted jazz hands. Geralt shakes his head and laughs. 

“I wish we were,” he sighs. “But I guess five is the magic number.”

“Makes the dances look cooler,” Jaskier nods. “I agree with whoever made that decision. I wouldn’t dare ruin the aesthetic.”

Geralt laughs again and Vesemir turns to look, honestly shocked at the volume of the sound. 

“Plus, you can’t be the frontman if there’s no front.”

“Shut up,” Geralt chuckles, still grinning broadly. 

Vesemir makes a phone call.

---

2 Weeks Later, Backstage in Kaedwen

---

“He’s been sulking like this ever since Jaskier went back to Oxenfurt,” Lambert whines. “C’mon Vesemir, do something.”

“What do you want me to do, make Geralt’s boyfriend appear out of thin air?”

“Not my boyfriend,” Geralt growls, stomping past his bandmates and manager. He can’t help but feel grumpy. Jaskier had been like the sun, bringing light and wonder to everything he touched, and without that joy around it doesn’t seem worth the extra effort to smile. So he’s been moping. 

“Fucking hell,” Vesemir sighs. “Thank goodness I thought ahead.”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks, joining the little group in the hallway outside the dressing room. “What did you think of?”

“Three,” Vesemir smiles, glancing at his watch. “Two… One…”

“Boooooys,” echoes a high tenor. “Where’s my welcome wagon, Vesemir?”

“Jaskier!” Aiden practically screams, leaping out of the dressing room and flying down the hall. Lambert follows at a sprint and Vesemir hears the resounding oof oh fuck of both giddy musicians hitting their mark. 

Geralt comes back down the hall at a jog, eyes searching frantically. “I thought I heard-”

“Geralt!”

Vesemir’s heart clenches in his chest at the way Geralt’s face lights up. At the end of the hallway, surrounded by spilled luggage and apologetic boyband members, is Jaskier. Geralt floats to him, it seems, like he’s dreaming the whole thing. Jaskier takes his hands and then releases them and wraps his arms low around Geralt’s hips instead. 

“I missed you the most,” he whispers, just for Geralt to hear. “Couldn’t sleep without listening to your CD. I know it’s silly but I really like you.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispers reverently into his shaggy brown hair. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to do my thesis on pop culture’s relation to music history,” he says. “And then the manager of TW5 called Oxenfurt and offered me the opportunity to do some… first hand research while I worked on finishing the paper.”

“R-Really? You’re going to be here… every day?”

“Do you… do you not want me he-”

Geralt kisses him before he can even finish the question. It’s a stupid question anyway, of course Geralt wants him here. Wants him right here, kissing him silly. The singer presses his lips desperately, crushingly against Jaskier’s; he never wants to part from this man again. He never wants to be without that glorious laughter and contagious liveliness. Who knew that life could be so full of delight and happiness if he only let it? 

He kisses Jaskier for all he’s worth and more, pouring his heart and soul into it. When they pull apart, both gasping for air, Geralt asks, “Stay with me, Jaskier? You don’t have to do anything I just-”

“I’d love to be the big spoon,” Jaskier winks, whispering again. “Thank you, Geralt, for the rescue.”

[queenbrightwhitly]

Stalker

“Ugh, this is by far the worse day of my life.” You fell back on your bed dramatically, spreading out across your sheets.

Dani stood in the door way with JT; both looking amused. “It’s for your own good, plus this way we can keep a close eye on you.”

You scoffed, looking up at both of them annoyed. “You both aren’t even going to be here! It’s some guys that Gil found in the office with nothing else better to do than babysit.”

“It’s not babysitting.” Dani said.

“It’s babysitting.” JT stated. Dani glared at him, JT only shrugged. “No point in lying to her, it is what it is. We should honestly get the SWAT to watch over you, knowing you’ll probably ignore us and do something stupid.”

You rolled your eyes. “I get a few creepy stalker letters and now I’m under house arrest. Perfect.” Proping up you smiled brightly. “You both should totally stay, we can order pizza and play monopoly, I also have UNO.”

“This isn’t a sleep over Y/n. This is serious.” JT scolded.

You huffed, folding your arms you started pouting like a child. Mostly to annoy JT further. “Malcolm would play UNO with me. Where is he anyways?”

Dani smiled. “Your Prince Charming is currently looking into a lead with Gil about your stalker. He wanted to make sure they got the right guy.”

You wanted to sass something back. Dani knew about your little fondness for the profiler, but JT certainly didn’t, and you didn’t want him to. He would never let you live it down. You were surprised that Malcolm himself hadn’t figured you out... Than again he could have and not said anything.

“Whatever, you guys are no fun anyways.” You reached over to grab the remote, turning on the tv you saw out of the corner of your eye them leaving. This was going to be a long boring night.

You spent the last few hours, doing random things. You started with your laundry, than you went and made yourself breakfast for dinner, finally you had settled with changing into your PJs with a bowl of fresh popcorn as you were scrolling though the tv trying to find a movie to watch.

Suddenly hearing a knock on the door, you froze, getting up you peaked outside to see the police officers had left. When did that happen?

The door banging was louder this time, making you flinch. Quietly moving to the kitchen you grabbed the small pistol you kept hidden under the sink. You slowly walked closer to the door, the banging not letting up, you got closer and proceeded to lean against it. Looking through the peep hole you sighed in relief upon seeing none other than Malcolm Bright himself.

Unlocking your latch you opened the door. Malcolm smiles widely at you. Looking down at your hand his smile dropped and he looked more concerned now.

“Come on in.” You greeted happily, ignoring the way Malcolm kept looking at you. You knew that he was profiling you. “I just made popcorn, want some?”

“Why do you have a gun?” Malcolm asked.

You rolled your eyes turning around to face him. “Well, Malcolm. When you get a bunch of creepy love letters and get the feeling that someone is watching you, a gun just becomes a part of your household accessories.”

Before he had the chance to respond you walked over to your kitchen counter and set the gun on top. Malcolm closed the door behind him and sat down on one of your kitchen stools. He was eying the gun, looking like he hadn’t seen one before.

“What are you doing here Malcolm? And where’s my babysitters?”

Malcolm turned back to you, an amused smile gracing his face. You tired your best to act casual, but you felt yourself get nervous.

“Gil and I found the guy who was sending the letters. Apparently he was planning on coming to your apartment tomorrow to try and see you. He told us everything once JT got into his face, he wasn’t as nearly as threatening as he was writing about himself in those letters.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Well, I’m glad that’s over with.” Malcolm nodded, taking another look at your gun again.

“Malcolm, why do you keep looking at my gun?” You asked, causing him to put his gaze back on you.

“Sorry, I just,” stoping for a second he continued. “You were really scared. I just didn’t realize how scared.”

“What are you talking about?”

Malcolm nodded towards the gun. “I’m guessing you didn’t feel comfortable with the officers Gil left for you. Plus your hand hasn’t stopped shaking this whole time.”

You glanced down at your hand to see it was indeed shaking. Taking your other one you placed it on top your wrist trying to still your movements. “Dani also happen to mention you weren’t too happy about none of us being here.”

“Yeah, well I can’t blame you. You were out finding my stalker, so thanks for that.” You shrugged, looking anywhere but him.

Malcolm nodded. “Dani also said something about you wanting to play UNO with me? I’m not quite sure what that means”

“Oh my, she-“ you instantly groaned in frustration. “I’m going to shot her.”

Malcolm smiled, taking a hold of your hand across the table he brought it to his lips. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something Y/n.”

“Ok?” You kept you eye on Malcolms hand in yours, moving his thumb across your palm.

“I’ve been taken notice of you lately, and based on certain bahavior it’s seems you may have particular feelings for me. Is this true?”

Malcolm kept his eyes on you, watching intently for any sort of reaction. He felt your hand still in his own, noticing your lack of eye contact with him.

You sighed, fully aware you’ve been caught. Not like you really had a chance in the first place. “I feel like you already know the answer to that.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want you to clarify it for me.” Malcolm said.

“Should I even go as far as to do that?” Malcolm smiled, his hand pulling yours back up to him, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“I would really be thrilled if you did.”

You smiled, walking around the table you stood right in front of Malcolm, his hand never letting go of yours.

Leaning over you softly whispered in his ear. “ I happen to have particular feelings for you, Malcolm Bright.”

Just as you said that, Malcolm let go of your hand and placed both of his on your cheeks. It took you a second to realize he was kissing you, but once you did you instantly kissed him back.

His hands roamed from your cheeks to your waist pulling you closer to him. You stood right between his legs which were hanging off the bar stool. You had one hand on his chest while the other was tangled in his hair. He wasn’t letting up in the kiss, which went from a sudden kiss to wild make out session.

Malcolm leaned forward, wrapping his arms around your legs be stood up and carried you with him. Walking over to the couch, Malcolm sat down with you on top of him. You straddled his lap, his hands on your hips drawing circles.

You both needed air but Malcolm was the one who pulled back first. Resting his forehead against yours, you both were breathing heavily. Malcolm looked down at you, his pupils were blown wide, his breathing slowly going back to normal.

“Wow.”

You looked at him questioning. “I really hope that was a good wow.”

Malcolm looked down, smiling he nodded. “Yes, very much so.”

Suddenly a noise came from outside causing you to jump. You tried to reach for your gun but suddenly became panicked, Malcolm instantly took notice and took a hold of your shoulders.

“Hey, are you okay? You’re-“ Malcolm stopped himself, taking notice of your behavior. “You’re still terrified. Y/n, you know he’s gone. This guy is officially locked away.”

You nodded, looking around you sat yourself on the couch next to Malcolm and grabbed the blanket that was resting on top of your couch. “I know.” resting his arm on the couch, holding his head up with his hand he stared at you.

“Talk to me,” Malcolm spoke softly. Reaching up he placed a stray hair behind your ear.

You sighed, smiling briefly. “I’m normally not so paranoid. It’s just- the last time I wasn’t, someone died. I guess, being put on the sidelines kinda just made me think of what might happen to one of you guys.”

Malcolm nodded. “That’s why you wanted Dani, JT, and I to be here. It wasn’t about not having someone you knew or the fact that you would be bored by yourself. You didn’t want us getting hurt looking for your stalker.”

“You all shouldn’t have to deal with my problems, much less if you guys are going to get hurt doing it. I can take care of myself, I’m a cop ya know.”

Malcolm smiled. “Indeed you are. Although I’m kinda glad you said something, I wouldn’t be here otherwise.” 

“Is that so wise guy?” You smirked, taking a hold of his tie and bringing him closer. Malcolm smiled, leaning forward he connected his lips to yours. Both of you became tangled with each other, Malcolm rubbed his hand up and down your leg through your blanket, while his other one came up and caressed the side of your cheek.

Wrapping your arms around his neck you messed with the back of his hair, his bangd were now in front of his face all messy and tangled. Pulling back you tried to catch your breath, Malcolm on the other hand attached himself to your neck. His lips were soft and warm, the feeling sending chills up your spine.

Just when things were starting to go further both your phones started ringing. Sighing, you reached in your pocket to see Dani’s name come across your screen. Malcolm showed you his phone and sure enough Gils name popped up.

“I think that’s our sign we better get up.” You joked, moving to stand up, you helped Malcolm get up, his hand interlocking with yours.

“We’ll finish this later.” Malcolm said, leaning down he kissed the top of your head. “I never thought I would be so disappointed to have a case.”

“I’m sure that will change when you find something stupid to do.” You teased, leaning your head on Malcolms, you both made your way to the precinct.

[soliverse]

cinderella and the mystery of the red lipstick (sfw version) - d.sc

reader x roommate!winwin

genre: fluff, humor, (optional smut below)

warnings: a bunch of swearing, mean insults and a bit of gaslighting

word count: 2972

synopsis: this is another Cinderella fic, except for the fact that she left lipstick stains instead of glass slippers

tags:

@byutafy for the short notice beta reading. love you!

networks:

@nctcreations @kdiarynet @kpopscape @kwritersworld @culture-cafe @neowritingsnet @neoswitchnet @czennienet @nct-writers

prompt:

The song it was based on was Lips by NCT 127 (although it leaned towards the demo version more)

It was also a bit upbeat because the song Cinderella by CNBLUE (the Youth With You version) has been stuck on my head for ages now.

Enjoy reading!

Love, Ellie.

It was already two in the afternoon but Winwin still stayed lying in bed, clutching his blanket close to his body in an attempt to prevent the chill of the afternoon breeze from coming in contact with his bare skin.

The plan was to stay in bed until all remnants of the vodka and last night's shenanigans have washed away. Or until he dies from starvation. But his roommates have other things in mind.

"WINWIN HYUNG!"

He was jolted awake by the loud noise coming from his bedroom window. Half-awake, he peeked through the sheets to see what the commotion was about.

The first thing he saw was Lucas holding his now broken doorknob in one hand, happily waving it around like a lightstick. Hendery was happily mumbling some bullshit that he didn't care enough to comprehend. Xiaojun was holding a tube-like contraption that he assumed was confetti, Ten and Yangyang were on the side, dancing like the game show girls while holding up each side of a handmade banner stating "Congrats on getting laid!" badly written with a green crayon. Meanwhile, Kun at the end of the line, leaning back at the door frame with his arms crossed while watching all of the chaos unfold right before him.

"Fuck off..."

Winwin grunted and grabbed the pillow under his head, throwing it with full force so that it ended up hitting Xiaojun on his chest.

They seem to have taken the hint because they all scrambled outside, laughing their asses off as they try to get away and avoid getting their asses kicked by a martial artist.

Meanwhile, Winwin buried his face under the thick sheets, trying his best to block the light coming from outside from reaching his eyes, heightening his already throbbing headache. He was planning to stay in bed no matter how loud his stomach grumbled, but his resolve is weaker than he expected. Begrudgingly, he dragged his tired ass out of bed to take a cold shower, hoping that will shake his hangover out.

///

“Holy shit.”

This wasn’t the usual statement that he says to himself whenever he would look at himself in the morning. However, as soon as he lifted his head in the mirror to wash his face, he might as well be an extra for a horror movie.

All over his upper body, especially the neck and chest area, was filled with red smudges. He also found tiny hints of it at the corners of his lips. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was lipstick.

Whoever he made out with (or had sex with) last night must’ve gone wild and tried to mark every part of him that she could place her lips on.

Winwin felt his heart sink. He couldn’t, for the life of him, remember who he was last night. Just like his body, the memories of her red lips lingered on his mind. But that’s about it.

It took him a long time to squint his eyes and try to recall the moments leading up to him getting on the bed with someone, but it only made his headache worse. Defeated, he chose to let everything go and proceeded to hop in the shower just like he initially intended.

He opened the shower, letting it get to his desired temperature before he stepped in and let the water flow from his hair to the rest of his body. He didn’t move, instead of leaning one of his hands on the wall for support as he closed his eyes and tried to soothe himself with the water pressure from the showerhead. He took a deep breath, letting the air come out slowly of his lips, eyes still heavily shut.

That’s when the memories kicked in.

He finally remembered being in that same position, in a familiar corner of their dorm, as he leaned over to kiss the girl with the red lips. He also remembered the heat, the intensity of the kiss as his subconscious made him remember that he was gasping for air afterward. And so, he resorted to kissing her jaws instead. She willingly returned the favor, which is probably where he’d gotten the smudges that he found that morning, and how her red lips formed a proud smile as she kept on going, painting his fair skin with her rouge.

He sucked in another lungful of air before opening his eyes and hopping back into reality. He’s still clueless as to how the girl looked like, but he was determined to find out who’s the owner of those red luscious lips, and he would love it all over him again.

///

Sicheng came out of his room already dressed up, water still dripping from his hair to the towel that he placed on his neck. He made his way to the kitchen and he found the rest of his friends sitting around the table, smiling like idiots.

“What?”

He asked, already annoyed about how they’ve been acting all day, or at least, for the past two hours.

“Yangyang saw you enter your room last night. With a girl,” says Kun.

“Uhh, duh?” Ten replied, raising an eyebrow at the older as he grabbed the butter knife and spread peanut butter over a piece of bread.

“How sure is everyone that it was a girl?” Hendery squinted his eyes, trying to look intimidating as he interrogated his friend for further details about last night.

“Why is everyone so concerned if I fucked a girl or not? Or if I fucked at all?” Winwin replied in annoyance, coming out almost whiney, hoping that they would cut the questions out and leave him and his breakfast alone.

“You don’t know either, do you?” Xiaojun tried not to laugh as he stuffed a sunny-side-up egg in his mouth, failing at the last minute to the point that he almost spat some of it out.

Winwin sighed. He knows they will plague him with questions until next week and will do anything to squeeze it out of him at the best of their abilities. Him getting laid feels like some event to be celebrated because out of all the guys, he was the least interested in women. Not that he doesn’t like them, it’s that he just refused to do it unless he’s genuinely interested in the girl.

Or guy.

Was it a guy?

Winwin resorted to stuffing his mouth with as much food as he can because it would give him an excuse to not speak further and answer their questions. For how long he can keep it up is a question that he’ll have to face once his plate full of food is decimated.

///

By the time you get into your brother’s dorm, the whole place was so trashed that you even hesitated to proceed inside. However, your mother asked you that morning to come over to your brother’s dorm as he refuses to reply to her texts and respond to her calls that morning.

“Ssup, nerd.”

You always cringe whenever Hendery calls you that nickname. Not that it affects you or anything. It was just so… old-school. You’re a big fan of insults and you would certainly be happier if the nickname was a bit more creative.

“Ssup, failure.” You replied, sitting right beside him as you grabbed a plate and helped yourself with the food served at the table, courtesy of Kun. He’s the only one that’s competent enough to fry eggs that beautifully.

“Mom’s been calling non-stop since last night. I didn’t tell her I wasn’t with you. I couldn’t come up with an excuse so I just told her you slept early because of morning classes.”

Hendery snickered.

You and he have very different lifestyles. He was supposed to be two years ahead of you in college, but he’s always caught up in partying and having fun that he missed some subjects that he had to retake that year. One more fuck up and you’ll be joining him in classes next year. And as your parents’ only hope, you feel compelled to stay away from all the fun stuff until you graduate. That is also the reason why Hendery felt it was his moral obligation to shoo you away from last night’s party, despite sharing the same room as him.

At least that's what he told you. You have a reason to believe that he shooed you away last night just so he can do whatever he wanted without you around to snitch on him.

“Everything’s fine, kid. I already told her the same thing last night. You and I share the same brain.”

“Yes, except one of us has his brain fried by substance abuse and the other has a perfectly functioning human brain capable of making future science discoveries.”

Your eyes then diverted to the guy sitting right across you. He looked sickly and pale, his organs probably screaming inside asking to die.

“What’s up with him?” You asked your brother.

“He had done the deed with a guy last night.” Winwin, with an expressionless face, was quick to throw a flying spoon in Hendery’s direction. The milk splattered everywhere, but Hendery was able to evade it, laughing maniacally as he wiped the milk off of his arms.

“Hey, you’re good with this investigation stuff, right? Maybe you can help prince charming over here find his Cinderella?”

///

"Tell me what you can remember."

Winwin thought you looked ridiculous when you grabbed a pen and a notepad, looking like some low-budget investigator in the movie. He wasn't in the mood to play along, but he might as well humor you and find out what happened last night.

"This may not help at all, but I can't remember jack shit except for one thing," He paused. You raised both eyebrows expectantly, signaling him to answer faster. "Red lips. That's the one thing I haven't forgotten about."

You scribbled the word, red lips in your notepad.

You scribbled a few more words and nodded as if you understood its implication.

"Well, that doesn't narrow down the suspects at all."

You placed your notepad in your pocket and stood up from your seat.

"We shall now go and investigate the crime scene."

///

You decided that the crime scene was Winwin's bedroom since this is where he found himself last.

Winwin saw that you're very detail-oriented, looking at every nook at cranny to see traces of the mystery person around and aid in the investigation.

His room was cleaner than you'd expected, so finding things that stick out or are out of place will be a clear sign of the perpetrator.

You searched high and low, from the shelves to the bed, but you're only able to find two things that might help his case.

As soon as you lifted one of his pillowcases, you saw traces of red smeared across its white surface. Some of it even transferred in the bedsheets.

"Your story checks out. It is red lipstick." You lifted the pillow and walked towards Winwin, who's just sitting at one of his bean bags and mostly just observing you doing your stuff.

You pointed out the smudges to him and he nodded. You then proceeded to grab one of your magnifiers from your backpack and looked at the stains for closer inspection.

"Seeing its transferability, I can say that the lipstick in question has a satin finish. The shade, as far as I can see, is somewhere in between orange and bright red." You grabbed your notepad once again and listed down your observations.

"Know anyone who wears that often?" He proceeded to shake his head.

"Alright then. Now, we ask the witnesses."

You were about to leave the room when Winwin called you out to call your attention.

"Hmm?"

"I think there's something under the bed."

He stood up from his seat and proceeded to walk towards his bed, kneeling as he tried to reach for something below.

You were surprised to see what he found, though. In between his fingers is a piece of thin, lace material, glowing red just like the lipstick shade. It was someone's underwear.

"Yeah… I think we should keep that from the witnesses."

///

"Where were you at the time of the incident?"

As it turns out, the rest of the boys are no more helpful than Winwin. You just finished interviewing Kun, Ten, Yangyang, Xiaojun, and Lucas. The boys themselves barely remember what they did last night, let alone whatever their friend was doing. Meanwhile, the victim (aka Dong Sicheng) sat there right alongside you while you asked the questions. You asked them if they were helpful at all, but alas, nothing resonates to him.

"Hey, aren't you going to ask me about last night?"

Hendery popped out in the makeshift interrogation room (aka the living room) and sat down right beside you, peeking in at your notes.

"Nope. I only interview reliable sources. You can barely remember your stuff sober." You stuffed your notepad back again at your backpack, hugging it close to your body to keep it from your brother.

"I saw Winwin with someone though. He was making out with someone right just a few meters away from his bedroom."

"Go on…"

"I didn't see her well though. She was pinned across the wall and Sicheng hyung's body was blocking the view."

You sighed.

"See. It was pretty useless information."

He was about to say something else, but you cut him off.

"I'll keep them in mind, thank you very much."

///

You’ve finally sat down back again in the kitchen to give yourself a moment of peace to piece the things you found together. Winwin is just right beside you, just quietly observing just as usual.

Everything is laid out across the kitchen table, your notepad, the pillowcase, the underwear (which is kept in a ziplock bag for hygienic purposes).

“You still don’t remember anything?”

“I do remember seeing those before, but nothing is still coming out. I still can’t remember who she is.”

You can tell that Sicheng was getting a bit frustrated. He was trying his best to remember as he once again shut his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, seeing if there is anything that he is missing.

As he did this, Hendery popped in again in the kitchen, this time holding a full laundry basket.

“I would just like to let you know that I am being a good brother and roommate by doing your laundry.”

“Yes, yes. Thank you Hendery. You did well." You smiled at your brother to acknowledge him, but you mostly did it just to shoo him away from the investigation room. He seems to have gotten the idea and left as soon as he showed the basket to you for one last time.

He shut the door and you were met with a deafening silence once again. This time though, you felt weird energy coming from the guy right in front of you. He stared at you for a long time, specifically your lips, and then he started to break down right in front of you.

"Shit."

"Hmm?"

You asked him what the problem was, but all that came out of his mouth are grunts and a string of curses.

"You alright?"

He was now going between laughing and frustration, rubbing his hands on his face as he lets out all emotions.

"It was you all along. You're red lips girl."

You smiled as you looked at your phone to check the time.

"Five hours. I'm impressed. If that was my brother, it would've taken him a week or two."

"Why didn't you just tell me? I feel stupid."

"And take the fun out of it? Nope."

You then watch him react, different kinds of emotions flooding in at the same time. You laughed as you stood from your seat and patted his back.

"What gave it away?"

He stopped reacting for a while, composing himself as he relayed his deductions to you.

"I had my suspicions when you opened your bag to get the magnifying glass. I saw a red lipstick tube scattered across but I dismissed it since any girl would have lipstick on her bag. I was also confused when you refused to acknowledge the underwear. I saw it from my point of view, but it's like you purposely didn't look under the bed just so you won't find it. You know it was there, didn't you?"

You finally grabbed a seat right beside him, interested to hear what he has to say next.

"And then there's Hendery's story. You didn't ask him to mess with him. It's because he did see us. I remember now, it's what got us in this mess in the first place…"

You nodded to acknowledge him. You've always known that he's a bit smarter than the other guys, but he was very observant as well. That's why he was quiet all the time.

"Lastly, when Hendery came in with your laundry, there was something sticking out," He picked up the ziplock and held it across your face. "The bra that came with this, it was sandwiched along with your other clothing, but the bright color stuck out to me."

"Mhm… " You nodded in approval. You didn't even notice that last one, but he was able to pick that as well.

"And then I stared at your lips for a while. That's when it hit me. It was the same lips that I claimed last night. The red lips that drove me crazy…"

You gave him a small round of applause as he finished his spiel.

"Honestly, you were on point on everything. I'm just sad that you can't remember anything."

His moment of clarity was shut down and he smiled apologetically.

"Want me to tell you what happened?"

He nodded profusely.

It was already two in the afternoon but Winwin still stayed lying in bed, clutching his blanket close to his body in an attempt to prevent the chill of the afternoon breeze from coming in contact with his bare skin.

The plan was to stay in bed until all remnants of the vodka and last night's shenanigans have washed away. Or until he dies from starvation. But his roommates have other things in mind.

"WINWIN HYUNG!"

He was jolted awake by the loud noise coming from his bedroom window. Half-awake, he peeked through the sheets to see what the commotion was about.

The first thing he saw was Lucas holding his now broken doorknob in one hand, happily waving it around like a lightstick. Hendery was happily mumbling some bullshit that he didn't care enough to comprehend. Xiaojun was holding a tube-like contraption that he assumed was confetti, Ten and Yangyang were on the side, dancing like the game show girls while holding up each side of a handmade banner stating "Congrats on getting laid!" badly written with a green crayon. Meanwhile, Kun at the end of the line, leaning back at the door frame with his arms crossed while watching all of the chaos unfold right before him.

"Fuck off..."

Winwin grunted and grabbed the pillow under his head, throwing it with full force so that it ended up hitting Xiaojun on his chest.

They seem to have taken the hint because they all scrambled outside, laughing their asses off as they try to get away and avoid getting their asses kicked by a martial artist.

Meanwhile, Winwin buried his face under the thick sheets, trying his best to block the light coming from outside from reaching his eyes, heightening his already throbbing headache. He was planning to stay in bed no matter how loud his stomach grumbled, but his resolve is weaker than he expected. Begrudgingly, he dragged his tired ass out of bed to take a cold shower, hoping that will shake his hangover out.

///

“Holy shit.”

This wasn’t the usual statement that he says to himself whenever he would look at himself in the morning. However, as soon as he lifted his head in the mirror to wash his face, he might as well be an extra for a horror movie.

All over his upper body, especially the neck and chest area, was filled with red smudges. He also found tiny hints of it at the corners of his lips. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was lipstick.

Whoever he made out with (or had sex with) last night must’ve gone wild and tried to mark every part of him that she could place her lips on.

Winwin felt his heart sink. He couldn’t, for the life of him, remember who he was last night. Just like his body, the memories of her red lips lingered on his mind. But that’s about it.

It took him a long time to squint his eyes and try to recall the moments leading up to him getting on the bed with someone, but it only made his headache worse. Defeated, he chose to let everything go and proceeded to hop in the shower just like he initially intended.

He opened the shower, letting it get to his desired temperature before he stepped in and let the water flow from his hair to the rest of his body. He didn’t move, instead of leaning one of his hands on the wall for support as he closed his eyes and tried to soothe himself with the water pressure from the showerhead. He took a deep breath, letting the air come out slowly of his lips, eyes still heavily shut.

That’s when the memories kicked in.

He finally remembered being in that same position, in a familiar corner of their dorm, as he leaned over to kiss the girl with the red lips. He also remembered the heat, the intensity of the kiss as his subconscious made him remember that he was gasping for air afterward. And so, he resorted to kissing her jaws instead. She willingly returned the favor, which is probably where he’d gotten the smudges that he found that morning, and how her red lips formed a proud smile as she kept on going, painting his fair skin with her rouge.

He sucked in another lungful of air before opening his eyes and hopping back into reality. He’s still clueless as to how the girl looked like, but he was determined to find out who’s the owner of those red luscious lips, and he would love it all over him again.

///

Sicheng came out of his room already dressed up, water still dripping from his hair to the towel that he placed on his neck. He made his way to the kitchen and he found the rest of his friends sitting around the table, smiling like idiots.

“What?”

He asked, already annoyed about how they’ve been acting all day, or at least, for the past two hours.

“Hendery saw you enter your room last night. With a girl,” says Kun.

“Uhh, duh?” Ten replied, raising an eyebrow at the older as he grabbed the butter knife and spread peanut butter over a piece of bread.

“How sure is everyone that it was a girl?” Yangyang squinted his eyes, trying to look intimidating as he interrogated his friend for further details about last night.

“Why is everyone so concerned if I fucked a girl or not? Or if I fucked someone at all?” Winwin replied in annoyance, coming out almost whiney, hoping that they would cut the questions out and leave him and his breakfast alone.

“You don’t know either, do you?” Xiaojun tried not to laugh as he stuffed a sunny-side-up egg in his mouth, failing at the last minute to the point that he almost spat some of it out.

Winwin sighed. He knows they will plague him with questions until next week and will do anything to squeeze it out of him at the best of their abilities. Him getting laid feels like some event to be celebrated because out of all the guys, he was the least interested in women. Not that he doesn’t like them, it’s that he just refused to do it unless he’s genuinely interested in the girl.

Or guy.

Was it a guy?

Winwin resorted to stuffing his mouth with as much food as he can because it would give him an excuse to not speak further and answer their questions. For how long he can keep it up is a question that he’ll have to face once his plate full of food is decimated.

///

By the time you get into your brother’s dorm, the whole place was so trashed that you even hesitated to proceed inside. However, your mother asked you that morning to come over to your brother’s dorm as he refuses to reply to her texts and respond to her calls that morning.

“Ssup, nerd.”

You always cringe whenever Hendery calls you that nickname. Not that it affects you or anything. It was just so… old-school. You’re a big fan of insults and you would certainly be happier if the nickname was a bit more creative.

“Ssup, failure.” You replied, sitting right beside him as you grabbed a plate and helped yourself with the food served at the table, courtesy of Kun. He’s the only one that’s competent enough to fry eggs that beautifully.

“Mom’s been calling non-stop since last night. I didn’t tell her I wasn’t with you. I couldn’t come up with an excuse so I just told her you slept early because of morning classes.”

Hendery snickered.

You and he have very different lifestyles. He was supposed to be two years ahead of you in college, but he’s always caught up in partying and having fun that he missed some subjects that he had to retake that year. One more fuck up and you’ll be joining him in classes next year. And as your parents’ only hope, you feel compelled to stay away from all the fun stuff until you graduate. That is also the reason why Hendery felt it was his moral obligation to shoo you away from last night’s party, despite sharing the same room as him.

At least that's what he told you. You have a reason to believe that he shooed you away last night just so he can do whatever he wanted without you around to snitch on him.

“Everything’s fine, kid. I already told her the same thing last night. You and I share the same brain.”

“Yes, except one of us has his brain fried by substance abuse and the other has a perfectly functioning human brain capable of making future science discoveries.”

Your eyes then diverted to the guy sitting right across you. He looked sickly and pale, his organs probably screaming inside asking to die.

“What’s up with him?” You asked your brother.

“He had done the deed with a guy last night.” Winwin, with an expressionless face, was quick to throw a flying spoon in Hendery’s direction. The milk splattered everywhere, but Hendery was able to evade it, laughing maniacally as he wiped the milk off of his arms.

“Hey, you’re good with this investigation stuff, right? Maybe you can help prince charming over here find his Cinderella?”

///

"Tell me what you can remember."

Winwin thought you looked ridiculous when you grabbed a pen and a notepad, looking like some low-budget investigator in the movie. He wasn't in the mood to play along, but he might as well humor you and find out what happened last night.

"This may not help at all, but I can't remember jack shit except for one thing," He paused. You raised both eyebrows expectantly, signaling him to answer faster. "Red lips. That's the one thing I haven't forgotten about."

You scribbled the word, red lips in your notepad.

You scribbled a few more words and nodded as if you understood its implication.

"Well, that doesn't narrow down the suspects at all."

You placed your notepad in your pocket and stood up from your seat.

"We shall now go and investigate the crime scene."

///

You decided that the crime scene was Winwin's bedroom since this is where he found himself last.

Winwin saw that you're very detail-oriented, looking at every nook at cranny to see traces of the mystery person around and aid in the investigation.

His room was cleaner than you'd expected, so finding things that stick out or are out of place will be a clear sign of the perpetrator.

You searched high and low, from the shelves to the bed, but you're only able to find two things that might help his case.

As soon as you lifted one of his pillowcases, you saw traces of red smeared across its white surface. Some of it even transferred in the bedsheets.

"Your story checks out. It is red lipstick." You lifted the pillow and walked towards Winwin, who's just sitting at one of his bean bags and mostly just observing you doing your stuff.

You pointed out the smudges to him and he nodded. You then proceeded to grab one of your magnifiers from your backpack and looked at the stains for closer inspection.

"Seeing its transferability, I can say that the lipstick in question has a satin finish. The shade, as far as I can see, is somewhere in between orange and bright red." You grabbed your notepad once again and listed down your observations.

"Know anyone who wears that often?" He proceeded to shake his head.

"Alright then. Now, we ask the witnesses."

You were about to leave the room when Winwin called you out to call your attention.

"Hmm?"

"I think there's something under the bed."

He stood up from his seat and proceeded to walk towards his bed, kneeling as he tried to reach for something below.

You were surprised to see what he found, though. In between his fingers is a piece of thin, lace material, glowing red just like the lipstick shade. It was someone's underwear.

"Yeah… I think we should keep that from the witnesses."

///

"Where were you at the time of the incident?"

As it turns out, the rest of the boys are no more helpful than Winwin. You just finished interviewing Kun, Ten, Yangyang, Xiaojun, and Lucas. The boys themselves barely remember what they did last night, let alone whatever their friend was doing. Meanwhile, the victim (aka Dong Sicheng) sat there right alongside you while you asked the questions. You asked them if they were helpful at all, but alas, nothing resonates to him.

"Hey, aren't you going to ask me about last night?"

Hendery popped out in the makeshift interrogation room (aka the living room) and sat down right beside you, peeking in at your notes.

"Nope. I only interview reliable sources. You can barely remember your stuff sober." You stuffed your notepad back again at your backpack, hugging it close to your body to keep it from your brother.

"I saw Winwin with someone though. He was making out with someone right just a few meters away from his bedroom."

"Go on…"

"I didn't see her well though. She was pinned across the wall and Sicheng hyung's body was blocking the view."

You sighed.

"See. It was pretty useless information."

He was about to say something else, but you cut him off.

"I'll keep them in mind, thank you very much."

///

You’ve finally sat down back again in the kitchen to give yourself a moment of peace to piece the things you found together. Winwin is just right beside you, just quietly observing just as usual.

Everything is laid out across the kitchen table, your notepad, the pillowcase, the underwear (which is kept in a ziplock bag for hygienic purposes).

“You still don’t remember anything?”

“I do remember seeing those before, but nothing is still coming out. I still can’t remember who she is.”

You can tell that Sicheng was getting a bit frustrated. He was trying his best to remember as he once again shut his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, seeing if there is anything that he is missing.

As he did this, Hendery popped in again in the kitchen, this time holding a full laundry basket.

“I would just like to let you know that I am being a good brother and roommate by doing your laundry.”

“Yes, yes. Thank you Hendery. You did well." You smiled at your brother to acknowledge him, but you mostly did it just to shoo him away from the investigation room. He seems to have gotten the idea and left as soon as he showed the basket to you for one last time.

He shut the door and you were met with a deafening silence once again. This time though, you felt weird energy coming from the guy right in front of you. He stared at you for a long time, specifically your lips, and then he started to break down right in front of you.

"Shit."

"Hmm?"

You asked him what the problem was, but all that came out of his mouth are grunts and a string of curses.

"You alright?"

He was now going between laughing and frustration, rubbing his hands on his face as he lets out all emotions.

"It was you all along. You're red lips girl."

You smiled as you looked at your phone to check the time.

"Five hours. I'm impressed. If that was my brother, it would've taken him a week or two."

"Why didn't you just tell me? I feel stupid."

"And take the fun out of it? Nope."

You then watch him react, different kinds of emotions flooding in at the same time. You laughed as you stood from your seat and patted his back.

"What gave it away?"

He stopped reacting for a while, composing himself as he relayed his deductions to you.

"I had my suspicions when you opened your bag to get the magnifying glass. I saw a red lipstick tube scattered across but I dismissed it since any girl would have lipstick on her bag. I was also confused when you refused to acknowledge the underwear. I saw it from my point of view, but it's like you purposely didn't look under the bed just so you won't find it. You know it was there, didn't you?"

You finally grabbed a seat right beside him, interested to hear what he has to say next.

"And then there's Hendery's story. You didn't ask him to mess with him. It's because he did see us. I remember now, it's what got us in this mess in the first place…"

You nodded to acknowledge him. You've always known that he's a bit smarter than the other guys, but he was very observant as well. That's why he was quiet all the time.

"Lastly, when Hendery came in with your laundry, there was something sticking out," He picked up the ziplock and held it across your face. "The bra that came with this, it was sandwiched along with your other clothing, but the bright color stuck out to me."

"Mhm… " You nodded in approval. You didn't even notice that last one, but he was able to pick that as well.

"And then I stared at your lips for a while. That's when it hit me. It was the same lips that I claimed last night. The red lips that drove me crazy…"

You gave him a small round of applause as he finished his spiel.

"Honestly, you were on point on everything. I'm just sad that you can't remember anything."

His moment of clarity was shut down and he smiled apologetically.

"Want me to tell you what happened?"

He nodded profusely.

(link to the optional smut right here)

[candychronicles]

A little bit of love

hello dear friends! it’s been quite a stressful day for me and a lot of other people in the tumblr community for various reasons, so i felt it was imperative to write a little bit of comfort from some of our favorite characters. i got this lovely idea from the amazing @adoringwords​ pls follow if you don’t already hehe so thank you to evy!! hope you can all find a bit of solace in these words and feel a little more comfortable tonight.

TAGS: @katsukisprincess​ @togasknifes​ @redbeanteax​ @jojosmilktea​ @bratwritings​

a soft huff left your lips as you wearily dropped your bag on the floor, kicking off your shoes and half-hazardly flinging your coat on the rack. life had been kicking your ass and you weren’t quite sure what to do about it. stress, anxiety and sadness weighed heavily on your shoulders and you were drowning in your feelings. 

---

Sero Hanta

“babe?” a soft voice called out from the living room.

“hey,” you wearily replied, walking over and dramatically flopping yourself on Sero’s lap.

his hands immediately came up to your hair, running his long, slender fingers through it. he wasn’t sure what was going on and wasn’t really sure what to say either, but he could feel the tension slowly leave your body as you leaned yourself into his touch, eyes fluttering in relief. he continued his motions with one hand while another came to rub at your shoulder, your arms, your sides, simply trying to help and ease you even more.

“thank you,” you replied softly, humming in approval. despite the stresses of the day, you knew that your boyfriend would always find a way to make you feel better.

“anytime,” he whispered back, smiling down at your frame, heart bursting out of his chest. he wasn’t the best with words at times like this but he wanted to always make sure you knew you were loved and would have someone there to make you feel better.

Shinsou Hitoshi

Shinsou appeared in front of you, a frown on his face, lilac eyes attempting to peer into your own but your head was hung in pure exhaustion. a soft tsk left his lips as he crouched down, finally catching your eyes with his own. there was nothing but concern laced on his face, a small tilt to his head as he silently questioned what was wrong.

“‘Toshi,” you whimpered, chin wobbling as you tried not to cry in front of your love.

he immediately stood up, wrapping your shaking frame with his own, holding you close, chin on the top of your head, encouraging you to let it all out. it started with small hiccups but soon turned into great big heaves as you sobbed into his chest. he softly stroked your hair, kissed your head, held you close, anything he could do to give you some bit of comfort.

“i’m not sure what happened love, but i’m here for you. please know that i won’t ever let you be alone in these trying times. always come to me when you’re feeling down. you’re never a burden and i want to help you,” he murmured in your ear, reassuring you more than anything that he was there for you and not ever going to leave you alone.

Mirio Togata

“y/n?” Togata questioned with an unusual frown on his face, hands placed on his hips, assessing the situation.

“it’s nothing Mirio, just, not feeling good today,” you admitted half-handedly, not wanting to bother your boyfriend, especially knowing he dealt with a lot more stress than you on a daily bases.

“well you’re not feeling well, so that is something!” he exclaimed, not taking your nonchalance to heart and instead scooping you up with his arms, body cradled to his warm chest.

you squeaked as he effortlessly picked you up and placed you gently on the couch in the living room, bundling you in a blanket and promising a quick return with a small peck on your forehead.

moments had passed as you stared blankly ahead, but suddenly, your lover had returned, a smile on his face and a pile of drinks and snacks in his hand. he turned on the tv to your favorite Disney movie, snuggled in the blanket with you and, throughout the night, fed you your favorite snacks and drinks.

“thanks Mirio, i really needed this,” you admitted, smiling as you snuggled into his side more.

“of course love! i am always here to help!”

Tamaki Amajiki

you heard no one in the apartment, so you made your way towards the bedroom, being stopped as Tamaki walked out and bumped into you, surprise written on both of your faces.

“welcome home bunny,” he greeted, reaching forward to caress your cheek, frowning when he noticed the blank look on your eyes.

“a-are you okay?” he asked, internally slapping himself for even asking knowing full well that something was wrong.

“everything sucks,” you admitted bluntly, attempting to sneak past him into the bedroom. 

you honestly just wanted to sleep your problems away and certainly didn’t want to bring Tamaki into the situation but you also knew you couldn’t lie to him. you were almost to the bed when a gentle grab of your arm stopped you.

“(y/n),” Tamaki started, turning you around and gently pulling you to his chest, kissing the top of your forehead, his body shakier than yours, clearly upset that you were sad. “let’s take a nap, yeah? and then we can maybe get some takeout s-snuggle some more, please?”

you responded wordlessly, slipping out of his grasp and moving back towards the bed. Tamaki beat you to it, pulling back the covers, helping you out of your daily clothes and into some pjs, tucking you into the bed before practically sprinting to the other side, slipping under the covers himself and drawing you to his side, wrapping his gangly frame around your body, essentially acting like a second blanket. 

his warm body and slow, even breaths lulled you into a comfortable sleep and Tamaki verbally sighed, happy that you were, even if it was only for the moment, at peace.

Eijiro Kirishima

“hi babe! i made some cookies for today! would you like…” he trailed off, noticing your jutting lip and clenched jaw.

“aw babe, no i’m sorry! if you don’t want one you don’t have to have one!” he exclaimed, frantically waving his hands, attempting to hide the food from your sight.

you continued to watch the scene unfold, your hold on your emotions weakening before you dropped to your knees. well, you almost dropped, but strong arms wrapped around your body before you got a chance to fall, gently pulling you to the floor, rocking you back and forth.

“that isn’t about the cookies, huh?” Kirishima joked, sniffling with you, attempting to hold back his own tears. 

seeing you in so much pain took a real toll on him, too, but he would never tell you, wanting to simply comfort you. he just loved you so damn much that he felt your pain. 

for what seemed like hours but was really just a few minutes, the two of you rocked on the floor, Kirishima cradling your body with his own, his soft words of love and encouragement bringing you down to a sniffle. 

“do you want to talk about it?” he asked, pulling his head away from your own and looking at you with a toothy grin.

“no, i think i’m okay, but i would like a cookie now, please.”

Kirishima, without warning, scooped you off the ground, setting you on the counter and pulled the cookies out, placing the whole plate in front of you. if cookies were what you needed, he would feed you the whole damn pile and more. anything to make you happy.

Denki Kaminari

you heard the sounds of video games being played in the living room, soft cheers and curses from Kaminari as he played. you attempted to sneak behind him into the bedroom but tripped over his shoes that were strewn about, falling to the floor with a thud, blinking owlishly as you tried to understand what was going on.

all the frustrations of the day caught up with you and, without even realizing it, you began to cry, throwing the shoes at what you thought was the wall but really was your boyfriend who came out to see what was going on.

“whoa, babe, i’m sorry, did my shoes make you trip? oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…” he rambled, seeing you on the floor, crying, hands and knees red from catching your fall. 

he ran over to you, almost tripping himself, scooping you in his arms, apologizing over and over again about the shoes, not understanding what was going on but not wanting to leave you to cry alone.

“it’s not about your stupid shoes Denki,” you cried, pushing him away, frustration evident in your voice. he moved away, sitting crossed legged away from you, panic evident on his face. “it’s just, everything. i’m so tired, i don’t know what to do, but i’m not happy right now.”

“oh baby, fuck, and i just made it worse. i’m so sorry. here, c’mon, come lay with me,” he cooed, helping you up off the floor and to the couch.

your head laid gently on his legs, blanket wrapped tightly around his body, as he began playing video games, explaining the situation to you, making funny commentary and even helping you learn, cheering you on every time you did something good and encouraging you when you were struggling. 

after a few hours, you two were sitting side by side, elbows bumping, competitively playing, lost in your own world, laughing and crying and screaming, letting your emotions out in a healthy way.

“i’m so proud of you babe!” Kaminari exclaimed after you finally managed to beat him, reaching up to give you a high five. “and not just because of the game. you’re so amazing and smart and i’m so happy to be with you. i’m sorry i’m not the best with words but i hope i helped you at least a little bit today.”

“you did Denki, you really did, so thank you so much. now stop changing the subject. i wanna play again, and i’ll beat you yet again!”

Bakugou Katsuki

“oi, quit making a racket out there, i’m trying to focus!” Bakugou called from the kitchen, presumably working on something important.

when he didn’t hear you yell something back to him, he cocked his head, confused, and scooted his chair out, walking out to investigate what was going on. he didn’t see you by the front door and that only confused him more. soft shuffling could be heard from the bedroom so he made his way towards the door, busting it open and seeing nothing.

“where the hell are you?” he asked, turning on the light and seeing a lump under the comfort, the bed softly shaking as you attempted to stop crying.

Bakugou sighed, heart breaking at the sight, feeling mad at himself for yelling at you earlier. he moved towards the bed, flinching as he saw you curl into yourself, pulling the blankets tighter around your body.

“shitty woman, let me in. i’m cuddling you,” he stated matter-of-fact, pulling the blanket out from under your body, wrapping his arms around you and dragging you close to him, a sigh once again leaving his lips.

“why didn’t you come and talk to me?”

“you sounded busy. i didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted, hiccuping as you attempted to catch your breath from crying.

“i know i act like an ass sometimes, but i want, no i need, you to know that you are more important than some stupid paperwork and i absolutely want you to bother me over that. do you understand? don’t come hide in here, i’m here to make you feel better, okay?”

“o-okay,” you cried, turning around and nuzzling your face into his neck, inhaling his caramel scent and instantly calming down.

“i love you, you dumbass, i really love you,” Bakugou admitted, kissing the top of your head and squeezing you tighter, signaling that he was not going to let you leave this bed anytime soon.

Izuku Midoriya

you grabbed the side of the wall, steadying yourself and breathing deeply, preparing to enter the house and face the ever cheery Midoriya. you knew even one ounce of sadness and he would pounce on you like a mother hen and, while that was probably what you needed, that was not what your boyfriend deserved, knowing he has his own stressful days often. you always kissed his scars, ran your fingers through his hair, did everything you could to make him feel good, and you needed to be able to do that today, no matter how you were feeling.

that plan went out the window, however, as you walked into the house, Midoriya instantly walking over to grab your face in his hands and reaching forward to plant a kiss to your lips.

“what’s wrong, my love?” he asked, eyes wide with concern, glassy from trying to hold back his own tears. 

“Izuku, it’s nothing, really. how was your day?” you asked, putting on a fake smile, hoping that you would be able to trick him.

“my day was just fine, so don’t worry about me, okay? let me take care of you today.”

you sighed, shoulders sagging as you let go of the brave face, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Izuku led you into the kitchen and helped you sit down, bringing you a cup of water and some food, watching to make sure you ate and drank something. once you were done and dishes were in the sink, he brought you into the bathroom, setting up a warm bath for you and leaving you to relax. 

when you padded into the bedroom, adorned in a fluffy robe and silky pjs, Midoriya had soft music playing, sweet smelling candles and thick blankets all set up. he sat at the side of the bed, eyes hopeful and pleading, arms outstretched as he silently asked you to join him. you melted into his arms, limbs meshing together as you found a comfy cuddling position, a huff leaving your lips as you finally relaxed.

“thank you ‘Zuku,” you whispered into his chest, squeezing him tightly in a hug.

“you do so much for me (y/n), i wish i could repay you for everything you have ever done. i will go to the ends of the earth just to make you happy. i love you so much.”

Shouto Todoroki

you sighed, tension gripping your body, stiffly moving to the couch and sitting down next to Todoroki in the living room with a huff.

“what’s wrong?” he asked simply, turning so he sat cross legged on the couch, motioning for you to move and join him.

when you were resituated, you sighed once more, going into detail about everything you were feeling. you didn’t hold back on any detail, tears coming and going, a wide range of emotions flitting between your face, from sadness, to anger, to confusion, to defeat. through it all, Todoroki sat and listened, eyes never leaving yours, hands gripping your own, soothing circles being rubbed into them with his thumbs.

when you were done, he removed one of his hands from your lap and wiped your tears away, finally cupping your face and leaning in for a long and soft kiss, bringing your breathing down to a normal pace, your heart racing from love, not anxiety. 

“what can i do to help you?” he asked once he pulled away, his hand staying on your cheek, other squeezing your hand in encouragement.

you blinked once, twice, three times. your brain simply couldn’t process the fact that you had such a wonderfully loving person in your life who just wanted to take care of you and help you.

“you’ve done so much just by listening. can we just eat and relax tonight? i know you’re really busy and if…” you began rambling, being cut off once again by a pair of lips on your own.

he pulled away, eyes twinkling in mischief. “i’ll order your favorite food and we’ll stay in tonight and eat on the couch. you can keep talking to me about your feelings all night if you want. i’m here for you and i’m going to make sure you feel better. don’t worry about my schedule. nothing is more important than making you feel better right now.”

[mmvalentine]

Lockdown Lovers, pt 2 | Feysand

Modern pandemic AU. Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Feyre's smile dropped as soon as the bathroom door banged closed. She cursed herself mentally. Her crush on her best friend's cousin was getting wildly out of hand, she was pretty sure Rhys knew it.

Octopuses are so weird?! That was how she was trying to get him to spend time with her? Feyre slumped back in the couch, her legs sliding out in front of her. Octopuses? Octopi? Octopodes? She didn't know, but she was fairly certain it wasn't her grammatical clumsiness that made Rhys bolt for the bathroom and away from her. The poor thing had been stuck in an apartment with her for a month now, and clearly did not reciprocate her feelings. As the weeks went by, he had been avoiding her more and more. Feyre tried to stay out of his way, but in a tiny apartment where you weren't supposed to leave the house, it was very difficult.

Lost in the cringe, Feyre hadn't noticed the shower shut off, or the bathroom door open. She did, however, feel the kick against her ankle and the surprised yelp that came from Rhys as he tripped over her outstretched legs. Her eyes flew open.

"Rhys! I'm so sorry!" She scrabbled to pull her legs back and reached out to help him up. It was then she noticed he was naked in a towel, hair still wet, and she was touching his bare shoulder. His skin was soft and hot from the shower. She swallowed.

"Sorry," she mumbled again. Rhys just smirked. "Well, that's certainly one way to get me awake in the morning," he said. He ran a hand through his damp hair, and his bicep flexed with the movement. Feyre's eyes were dragged to the planes of his chest, and the harsh black lines of his tattoos.

"To be fair, I suppose this is my fault for having such a tiny apartment." "Yes, I mean no," Feyre replied quickly. "You know how grateful I am for you letting me stay. As soon as the lockdown lifts I'll be out of your hair."

Hair. His dark, thick crop looked so good slicked back like this. Feyre pushed her fingers though it in her mind, and had to will her focus back to the present. A funny look had come over Rhys' face, and she blushed, wondering if he had caught her fantasising.

"You can stay as long as you like," Rhys said. "Mor always says I get sullen when I spend too long away from other humans. Whatever that means."

Feyre smiled her thanks, and Rhys padded back to his bedroom.

For the rest of the day, Feyre bummed around the house. She watched netflix, and baked cookies, and cleaned the kitchen within an inch of its life. Like every other fucking day for the past month. Unlike Rhys, she was struggling to keep up motivation to work. Being cooped up like this made her feel both restless and sluggish at the same time. She did spend some time each day at her laptop, doing uni classes online, but it was difficult to get inspired to write when the environment was the same every damn day. She tried not to bother Rhys too much- as an extrovert, Feyre seemed to be struggling more with the lockdown than he did. By the time the sun was setting, she broke.

Outside Rhys' bedroom door, Feyre raised a hand to knock, then let it fall, then raised it again. Three times. After a month of living at close quarters, she wasn't sure why this was still so hard for her. Finally, she forced her knuckles to the wood, then waited. There was just the muffled music for a moment, then Rhys appeared.

"What's up?" he asked. His room smelled like him, and she got the sudden urge to go inside and curl up in his sheets.

"I, ah, was wondering if you'd like to come watch a movie with me. I ordered pizza." Rhys quirked an eyebrow. "Don't we have like a whole leftover lasagne that you made?" "Well, yes, but I felt like pizza." Rhys rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Sure. I'm just finishing up but give me a yell when the pizza gets here." Feyre nodded and headed back to the lounge. "And no more of those serial-killer docos we've been watching!" Rhys called after her.

Twenty minutes later, Feyre shut the front door and called out to her housemate. "Rhys, pizza's here," she hollered. She headed back to the lounge, flicking the lights off on her way through, and sat with her legs crossed under her. She balanced the flat boxes on one knee and pulled her laptop toward her on the other. A minute later, Rhys appeared next to her and sat down heavily on the couch. He pulled the pizzas from her, and opened the top box.

"Hey, you remembered my order," he said. Feyre snorted. "We live together, Rhys, I think I can remember one pizza order."

He picked up a slice and bit off half of it in one mouthful, then slung an arm round the back of the couch behind her while he chewed.

"So what are we watching?" he asked. "Not serial killers, right?" Feyre said. "Right," Rhys confirmed. She hit the link to stream to the TV, and Baz Luhrmann's Moulin Rouge! came up on the screen. She expected Rhys to complain, but his eyes lit up and he leaned forward.

"Oh this is a great movie," he said. "Yeah?" "It's a classic, great choice."

Feyre smiled, surprised, and set the laptop to the side. She settled back against the couch and started on her own pizza. Rhys' arm went back behind her, and where his wrist hung off the couch, his fingers grazed her arm.

Feyre's skin warmed at even this slightest touch. It had been weeks since she'd had any real physical contact with anyone, and she sorely missed it. Mor was always so physically affectionate, she would kill for one of her signature hugs right now.

But alas, this was all she had. Feyre pushed the longing down deep and tried to concentrate on the movie.

Then, Rhys' arm moved from the couch, to actually resting across her shoulders. Feyre leaned back into him automatically, then tensed up as she realised what she had done. Before she could feel embarrassed, Rhys gave her arm a squeeze, and she relaxed into him. The warmth coming from under his soft hoodie felt amazing, and she almost groaned in relief.

Feyre stared ahead at the TV for a minute, the peeked up at Rhys. To her surprise, he was looking down at her, light from the screen flickering off his violet eyes. A slight grin tugged at his lips.

"Comfy?" he said. "Mmhmm," she murmured. He was so close she could have reached out and touched his lips.

Rhys turned his eyes back to the movie, and Feyre followed suit.

A few minutes later, he turned his body and lay back into the couch, pulling Feyre with him so she was between his legs with her head on his shoulder. She thrilled at the thought of being horizontal with him.

"Is this okay?" Rhys asked, just above her ear. "Yeah," Feyre replied, aiming for nonchalance. He chuckled beneath her, and she wasn't sure she achieved it. She felt the rumble through his chest, and loved it.

The movie played on, but Feyre lost track of it. She was busy secretly exploring this comfortable position with Rhys- the way his hoodie smelled like him, the solidity of his body beneath her, and the enthralling amount of contact their bodies now had. Sure, Rhys flirted, but she knew he wasn't genuinely into her. Still, she couldn't help moving her hand slowly across his chest, flexing as she felt the planes of his muscles even through the thick fabric. She breathed him in, and her head was dizzy with the scent.

Suddenly, Feyre went still, realising what she was doing. Her face burned in the dark room, and she hoped he was distracted enough by the movie that he hadn't noticed her smelling him. Feyre shifted her weight around, trying to find a position that felt less like she had pathetically draped herself all over him.

And then she felt something hard poking into her lower back, and stopped moving.

****

Keep it cute or go full smutty? These are the questions I have for you.

Also tags seem to not be working heaps well, so I don't know if pt 1 is more visible or if people just like it better. Any advice?

[realtacuardach]

On Ice

Figure Skating AU for Obiyuki Bingo 21!

(Special thanks for @sabraeal , @bubblesthemonsterartist , @ruleofexception , and youlee on the Obiyuki Discord for help with the music!)

~~~

Stepping onto the ice, Shirayuki felt herself leaving her troubles behind to stay, as they always did, on the benches behind the plexiglass. Her breath gusted out from her mouth, trailing behind as she glided to the center of the silent rink. She reached above her head, feeling her shoulders pop satisfyingly, before craning her head back to release the tension in her neck. Nothing could release all the tension she was feeling at the moment, but it definitely helped - somewhat.

She took another deep breath, bent her knee so that one leg stretched out behind her while the other took most of her weight - and pushed off.

The ice rink was a lot quieter now than it was in the middle of the day, the Olympic-quality rinks hosting times for ice hockey players, speed skaters, and ice dancers. It got even louder when the rink opened up for the public - those of the public who could afford it, anyway - because the director through that cultivating public support opened the rink up for more interest in the sports programs, a greater influx of talent that he could presumably snap up, and, of course, more merchandising opportunities.

Izana certainly likes to keep a finger on the pulse of everything, Shirayuki thought to herself, and choked a little on the foreign bitterness intermingling with the observation. Usually, it bemused her more than anything else, but today…

She tried to push the thought away as she finished one lap and started another, picking up speed. Cold air streamed more and more quickly past her face as she rounded the rink, making her eyes water, which at least gave her something to focus on.

I shouldn’t be surprised, I should have seen this coming, she thought, the cold and stinging eyes not powerful enough to slow down her mind. She slowed to a stop, realization dawning as she began to feel the burn in her calves. No, I’m not surprised, it’s what I expected.

Somehow, that only made her feel worse.

Shirayuki huddled down, resting her hips against the scuffed ice, her arms wrapped around her knees, the old insulated pants crinkling in a familiar way that soothed her, just a little bit.

Really, she should just be grateful that Zen wasn’t more hurt. He’d been lucky that she’d been watching the last-minute scrimmage he and his team had put on after hockey practice, before their paired skating practice. It could have been a lot worse.

She exhaled heavily, squeezing her face more tightly into her knee.

“All right there, Twirls?”

Shirayuki looked up and craned her head towards the sound. The side doors for the storage area for the Zamboni were open, and she saw the familiar form of Obi leaning against the machine.

She would have preferred to have been alone with her thoughts, but if anyone was to find her, she was glad it was him. She blinked away the traitorous moisture, put on her brightest smile, and nodded briskly. “No.”

Shirayuki cursed. She could never lie to him.

Even from across the rink, she could see his eyebrow arch, stretching the old scar above his eye. He straightened up a little, all his muscles at attention despite his deceptively languid stance. “Seem a little undecided there, Twirls.”

“I just got back from the hospital.””

“Yeah?” Obi responded. “How’s Ace doing? I’ve never seen Coach turn that shade of red before.”

Mitsuhide took a lot of things in stride, but there were two things that he absolutely did not. Like a proper Canadian transplant, the preservation and promotion of hockey was paramount to him. One did not mess with his hockey team and escape unscathed.

The other thing was Zen - his safety and well-being, not only as his friend but also as his star player, was also paramount.

So Zen taking a chance during the scrimmage to use one of his most acrobatic aerial leaps to soar over the other team (ostensibly intending to steal the puck and score a goal rather than slamming into the side of the rink and significantly spraining his ankle) had definitely...elicited a reaction from Mitsuhide.

He had vacillated between panic (“Are you okay, Zen? Can you stand? Is it broken, Shirayuki?”) and rage (You idiot! We were ahead by three goals. And this was practice!”)

Mitsuhide practically frothing at the mouth had unnerved most of the hockey players, so Shirayuki was grateful that Kiki had skated forward, shucking her gloves off to help stabilize Zen’s ankle as she splinted it before grabbing Mitsuhide by the back of his jersey and forcibly escorting him off the rink when he would not stop hovering.

(If it had been a less serious moment, Shirayuki would have laughed at the new redness burning the top of Mitsuhide’s ears as he was behind held by the third thing he had difficulty taking in stride.)

“Doctor says he’ll make a full recovery.”

“No doubt,” Obi grinned, walking smoothly towards her. “Between Coach’s mother-henning and your splinting skills, he didn’t have much time for it to get serious.”

The compliment glowed warm and low in her chest, but then it was overwhelmed by the cold feeling she got as she remembered what happened after Zen’s surgery. She fought back tears, hoping Obi wouldn’t notice.

He did.

“Twirls?”

She would have given everything to respond to him, but she didn’t trust her voice.

Obi sat down beside her, and she felt his arm move across her shoulders before squeezing them reassuringly. She leaned her head onto his chest, feeling the embroidery of his name push against her cheek, grounding her as his chest rose beneath her. A breath shuddered out.

“He’s going to be okay.” Deep breath in, deep breath out. “But Izana says he can’t do both ice skating and hockey any more.”

“Oh.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Well, that’s a shame, Twirls, but it does make sense. This isn’t a Disney Channel movie, he can’t do both at the same time forever. That’s a lot of strain for the ankle to take, even for a paragon like Ace. But he can still play scrimmages and stuff sometimes, right? Boss can’t expect him to just quit hockey completely-”

“He chose hockey.”

The soothing rubbing stopped. “What?”

Shirayuki cleaned her throat again, shuddered. “He chose hockey.”

The hand on her shoulder didn’t move, but she feel his muscles tensing, and she opened her eyes to see his other hand clenched into a fist. He must have noticed that she had noticed because he exhaled deeply and let his fingers relax.

“But...what about your competition?”

Shirayuki sighed and settled back against his chest. “It’s early enough to change categories, and I’m used to skating singles, anyway -”

“That’s what you think? Or what Boss thinks?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter either way, it’s done.”

Obi was still for a long time, so still that Shirayuki eventually opened her eyes to check on him. His jaw was set so tightly that she was surprised that she couldn’t hear teeth grinding, and his eyes, which usually glittered with mischief or glowed with humor, were hard and flinty.

At her movement, Obi looked down at her, his eyes softening and his expression turning apologetic as his hand resumed its soothing rhythm. “I’m sorry, Twirls.” He looked out towards the Zamboni he was supposed to be driving, and snorted. He muttered, so low that she probably wasn’t supposed to hear, “I can’t believe he didn’t-”

Shirayuki shrugged, cutting him off. “He tried - at first, anyway. All the way to the hospital, he was holding my hand and promising that everything would be fine, that he’d figure something out.” She sighed. “I guess he did.”

“Or Boss did.”

“You know how important the team is to him.”

Obi squeezed her shoulder a final time before removing his arm from her shoulders and standing up. “I know how important you are, Twirls.” He held out a hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

She took his hand and let him pull her up. “Where?”

~~~

The moon was big and full, casting an ethereal glow over the frozen pond. Shirayuki took in a deep breath, feeling the icy sharpness of the air sting her nose, and smiled. She loved to skate anywhere, and she’d always be grateful for having the opportunity to skate at the rink, as fancy as it was. But there was something more...real about skating on a pond. It reminded her of the first time she glided across the lake near her grandparents’ pub, the feel of her father’s gloves beneath her mittens as he taught her to skate, of spinning free in the center of a lake, hair flying and arms outstretched, feeling light and airy and free.

Obi’s keys jingled as he shoved them into his coat pocket, stomping through the snow as he made his way over from his pick-up. “Feeling better, Twirls?”

“Just about,” she nodded. “The moon is so beautiful tonight.”

Obi hummed under his breath, and looking up, she saw him staring across the lake deep in thought.

“Makes me think of the night we met,” she continued.

It showed how much time had passed since they had met that Obi didn’t wince. She knew he wasn’t proud of how the first time they’d met officially was after he’d been caught for spreading debris across the pond where she had been practicing to trip her up and scare her off from the up-and-coming hockey player. Some enthusiast for the hockey team hadn’t liked that some outsider redhead was distracting The Zen Wisteria from the game.

Clearly, Obi had not been expecting her to leap over the debris without a moment’s hesitation. She could still remember the surprise and impressed look in his eyes as she met his stare head on after landing. He had even applauded her, which probably had some part in how quickly Mitsuhide and Kiki were able to catch up to him. Zen hadn’t been impressed with the stunt, but he had been impressed with the speed of Obi’s skating.

Despite Zen’s best efforts, Obi could not be pressed upon to actually join the speed skating relay team, but Zen had at least succeeded in getting him a job - reportedly to “keep him out of trouble” but they all knew better - at the rink. He took to driving the Zamboni with an enthusiasm that mildly terrified Mitsuhide, and he had a wealth of information on the surrounding area teams.

Obi gave a self-critical smile. “Good times, right? Except for when I got my face mashed into the snow by Miss Kiki.”

“It was good,” she agreed vehemently, “because it was the night I met you.”

She could feel her ears burning beneath her earmuffs and she quickly looked away over the lake. She heard a cough and saw Obi looking sheepish, one hand behind his head and red glinting through the olive skin of his cheeks.

“Same, Twirls.” He coughed again, and then made a shooing gesture. “Go on already, I know you’ve been dying to.”

Shirayuki needed no further prompting. She sat down in the snow, yanked off her boots, and slid on her skates. She pushed off the snowy ground and wobbled for a moment before steadying herself on Obi’s outstretched arm. “Thanks.” She stepped onto the ice, then craned her head back. “You coming?”

He kept gesturing towards the ice. “In a minute.”

The ice of the pond wasn’t quite as smooth as the ice of the rink - despite all his pleas in the past, Obi had never been allowed to take the Zamboni out for a “test drive” - but she liked that. The blades caught the slight divots and waves the water had settled into as it froze, and it reminded her of the lake back home. She could hear the birds settling into the nightly roosts and smell the fragrant scent of pine trees as a breeze blew into her face. Her nose was already red from the cold, and it felt amazing.

Shirayuki closed her eyes and spread her arms out wide. She felt free.

Na-na-na-na, na-na, na, I wanna start a fight!

Only years of experience in skating kept her from falling face first onto the ice, and she looked towards the sound. “Obi? What?”

The pick-up truck was running, the headlights spilling across the snow, and Obi was standing on the runner, holding onto the door with one hand and waving his phone with the other. Music blared out of the cab of the truck.

So, so what, I’m still a rock star-

“No time like the present, Twirls!” He bellowed over the music. “Let’s get that first-prize routine started.”

“Obi!” She was laughing now, her lungs burning beautifully. “Not that one!”

“It’s a good song,” he protested, “and it was the first one on Torou’s ‘Break My Heart, I’ll Break His Face’ playlist.”

Of course, Torou would have that as a playlist.

“Next one!” She yelled, making a new round around the perimeter of the pond.

“Fine, but I’m telling Torou!”

It was an empty threat, they both knew Torou would take her side.

I do my hair toss, check my nails-

“Yes!” Shirayuki crowed and pushed off to the center, tossing her hair and splaying her fingers along to the music.

Baby, how you feelin’?

She spun once, twice, three times before skating backwards shimmying her shoulders in time with the music. She went faster and faster -

You know you a star, you can touch the sky-

And she leapt. And again. And again.

She was breathless with laughter and could see Obi’s grin all the way from the shore between spins. 

The song faded, and the next began.

It took too long, it took too long, it took too long for you to call back-

“Too fast!” She called.

“Lies!” He called back, “Get it, Twirls!”

She stopped herself with a hand on the ice before tearing off around the pond, picking up speed.

This is the potential break-up song-

She began to make almost lazy spins in the center of the pond, her arms gliding in patterns in front of her and behind her head before speeding up once the chorus starting blaring.

Potential Break-up Song segued into IDGAF, and then into Cee-Lo. She was breathless and her arms ached from skating and her face ached from smiling and everything felt right.

We could have had it all, rolling in the deep

You had my heart inside your hand and

Played it to the beat-

Her heart stuttered despite herself, and she sighed.

“Twirls?”

She waved him off, and picked up speed. Faster and faster she went, leaving her hurt and anger behind, feeling nothing but the burn in her muscles, the ice beneath her feet, the chill in the air, and the music in her ears. One leap, two leaps, and then she slid back on her left foot -

We could have had it all!

-And she spun backwards into a Salchow.

She landed, blushing at the Obi’s whoops and cheers, and felt proud but spent. She slowed down, her heart pounding as Adele continued to sing, and skated towards where she’d left her boots.

Obi padded down towards them as well, bending down to scoop them up and lifting them out towards her as she approached. She shook her head vigorously and stuck out her hand. “No, your phone.”

He arched his brow. “Huh?”

Shirayuki thrust her hand towards the phone, fanning her fingers vigorously. “Your phone, gimme. Come join me!”

“Twirls…”

She knew it was cheating to give him The Eyes. She didn’t care. “Obi.”

He took a shuddering breath and covered his face with his hand. “Fine.” He handed over the phone and tramped through the snow back to the truck.

By the time he had pulled his old skates from the truck bed and laced them onto his feet, she had scrolled through the phone and disregarded several songs before picking the best one.

Obi stepped out onto the ice. “Gonna tell me what you picked?”

She pushed Play and stuck the phone into her pocket, zipping it. “Nope.”

“Twirls…”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” she chided, hoping the nonchalance in her voice drowned out the pounding of her heart. She reached out her hands. “Skate with me?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m not that fancy of a skater, Twirls.”

“I don’t want fancy, Obi,” she insisted. “I want you.”

That was...a lot more blunt that she had intended. But it was a night for change, and as his hand enveloped hers, it felt right.

She braced one foot behind her and pulled on his hand. And he followed.

Hand in hand, they skated to the center of the pond, and Shirayuki strained to hear the opening chords from the truck radio. As the piano began, she pushed off, with Obi following their linked hands.

What would I do without your smart mouth?

Obi’s hand tightened on hers, and she was hyper aware of how the heat of his palm burned hers through their gloves.

My head’s underwater, but I’m breathing fine

You’re crazy and I’m out of my mind.

This was moving too fast, she was being too forward. But it felt like all her pieces were falling into place. Obi wasn’t used to leisurely skating, he was more of a speed skater and going slowly nearly made him stumble. But in the next glide, his movements were more smooth and together they fell into the same rhythm.

Cause all of me loves all of you

All your curves and all your edges

All your perfect imperfections

Their eyes met, and even now she could see some hesitation. Her grip on his hand tightened and she adjusted her stride so she was closer to him. Even as their breath fogged around them into the cold night air, she could only feel the warmth of him beside her. Shirayuki turned, skating backwards and pulling him to follow her into a small spin. And Obi, who she’d seen charm birds out of the trees, looked almost dazed before following along.

Give your all to me

I’ll give my all to you

You’re my end and my beginning

Even when I lose, I’m winnin’

Slowly, they spun around each other, the circles growing slower and smaller until she was fully in his arms. Even as his arms wrapped around her, she could feel hesitation in the quivering of his muscles. She took a big breath, laced with the scent that was so distinctly Obi, and took the plunge, laying her head against his shoulder.

His breath shuddered, and she was held so close she couldn’t tell where she started and he began.

Give me all of you, oh

Cards on the table, we’re both showing hearts

Risking it all, though it’s hard

There was always a risk to be completely honest. But she trusted Obi. She hoped he trusted her, too.

“Obi?”

“Yes?”

“Is this-” Despite her resolve, she could feel her fingers trembling. She had been brave up until now. “Do you feel- I mean…”

Obi pulled back and gave her an intense look. “Shirayuki.”

(She refused to faint, but hearing him say her actual name like that was making it a real possibility.)

“Yes.”

Her heart leapt into her throat. She was about to show that word all the appreciation it deserved, but then Obi opened his mouth again.

“But I won’t get in the way of-”

Only he could make her want to smack him and hug him at the same time. “There’s nothing to get in the way of, Obi. There’s just friendship there, and right now even that’s a little dodgy.”

Obi looked dazed again. “Oh.”

She smiled at him, adrenaline making her lips quivered. He brushed his hands against the outside of her arms and she melted against him.

The song had long since stopped, and they stood in silence for a long time.

“Shirayuki.” Obi began, and as much as Shirayuki liked his nickname for her, she definitely would like hearing her full name from him more often, especially when his voice held that husky tone.

She looked up and met his gaze, which was full of intent. He lowered his head to hers, slowly enough that she could pull back or pull away if she wanted.

She didn’t want to.

Instead, she lifted her head so that her lips met his.

[thishintoflove]

“This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things” - A WW84 Fanfic

TSwift Songfic Week Day 4

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x F!Reader

Warnings: 18 + Explicit (Language, possessive behavior, P/V sex, unprotected sex, slight boss/employee relationship (reader is a hired caterer), elements of sex pollen because the dreamstone messes with Max)

Summary: After Max secures the stone, he throws a party to celebrate. He also chooses you to help him test it out.

A/N: I’m not even a Max Lord stan but something about the way the dreamstone slowly fucks him up over the course of the movie really does it for me. Also this isn't a popular t-swift song but I happen to really like it and I think it fits??

It was so nice throwing big parties

Jump into the pool from the balcony

Everyone swimming in a champagne sea

“So are you one of Max Lord’s foreign associates or are you just another pretty face for the party?”

The man in the tuxedo slumped towards you and you had to jump back to avoid getting champagne on your dress as he tipped his glass.

“I’m here to work,” you said through clenched teeth. This wasn’t the first drunk guest to proposition you while you were working, but Maxwell Lord’s parties seemed to attract the worst of them all. You turned on your heel and walked away before the man could make a real pass at you. Maybe he’d fall in the pool later-- he was certainly drunk enough for it to happen. Incidents like that were the highlight of your weekend.

You smoothed your navy dress as you stepped off the patio and back into the house. You weren’t a guest, but as the owner of the catering company working this function, you felt you had to dress with the crowd so that you could blend in while you kept everything running smoothly.

When Maxwell Lord first hit the DC scene, he'd been a boon for your company. You catered a few of his first parties, mostly after his big commercial aired and his name was growing. They were huge, outlandish affairs but it allowed you to bring on more staff and test out new recipes. But the gaps between parties had grown longer and longer recently, and you’d wondered if he’d switched to a rival catering company. But there was no gossip about it in the service industry rumor mill, so you assumed the man was just cutting back on his party habits.

It had been at least six months since you’d seen him, but now you were back in his large home managing yet another one of his wild events. The music was particularly loud and the crowd particularly large tonight.

And there are no rules when you show up here

Bass beat rattling the chandelier

Feeling so Gatsby for that whole year

The man himself caught your eye when he started waving in your direction from the kitchen door.

“Darling, may I speak with you a moment,” he called in that faux host voice of his. He was standing with another tall man in a tuxedo, this one with glasses and slicked-back white hair.

You smoothed your dress and approached the pair. When you were close enough, Maxwell grinned and placed a large hand on the small of your back, “This is DC’s finest caterer! She’s the genius behind those delicious spinach puffs you were just raving about.”

“Is that so?” the man replied quietly, eyeing you up and down. You tried to give the rude man a disapproving glare but Max seemed to notice it too. You felt his hand clench where it rested on your back.

“Yes, she’s quite the specimen, but I’m afraid I have to pull her away for something. Do you have a moment, my dear?”

“Of course, Mr. Lord,” you reply, pointedly ignoring the other man, “Let’s step into the kitchen.”

He followed you through the busy kitchen that he probably never used himself, until you found a quiet spot in the back near the pantry. You turned to look at him, quirking a brow and waiting for him to speak first.

“How do you think it’s going tonight?” he asked, his soft brown eyes suddenly revealing his vulnerability.

“It’s going quite well from my perspective,” you replied, curious as to why he interrupted his celebration for this, “The trays have been evenly spaced, we have plenty of hors d'oeuvres and alcohol left, and no one’s thrown up yet. I’d call it a success.”

“Good, good. So do you think you could take a short break?”

He ran a hand down your back again but this time he reached further, only stopping when he reached your ass to give it a firm squeeze.

Yes, you’d slept together once after one of the earlier parties you’d catered for him. You didn’t make it a habit of sleeping with clients, but the party was over, your staff had finished cleaning up, and he’d looked so lonely standing there by himself in the foyer of his large home. He’d asked if you wanted to stay for a drink and there was something soft in his eyes that told you he wasn’t the leering type, he just wanted some companionship. So you’d stayed, and after a couple glasses of wine you’d given into him easily.

The sex was great but you didn’t spend the night, both of you understanding that this was a one time deal. You’d catered one more party for him after that, but then he’d never called you again. Until now.

“I want to show you something,” he continued, grabbing your attention again. His eyes bore into yours. You couldn’t help it. Maxwell Lord intrigued you.

“Lead the way,” you replied.

This is why we can't have nice things, darling

Because you break them, I had to take them away

You could feel the base vibrating through the floor as you followed him upstairs, down the hall, and into what you assumed was his private bedroom. If this whole thing was just a request for sex, you were confused as to why it couldn’t wait until after the party.

“Mr. Lord, you have a house full of guests downstairs, is this really the best time to-”

“Yes it is. I have a proposition for you and I can’t wait anymore.”

He led you over to the end of the bed and gestured for you to sit down. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t extremely confused, but you followed his direction out of pure curiosity. He sat beside you and angled his body so he could meet your eyes head on.

“I’ve recently found myself on the receiving end of some very good fortune. Let’s just say I’m about to become a very powerful man. By tomorrow, Black Gold Cooperative stock will be through the roof. And there’s so much more that I plan to do.”

You hesitated as you studied his face. His eyes sparkled with excitement but you didn’t really understand what he was saying. “Congratulations? Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I trust you.”

“You barely know me,” you replied, surprise coloring your tone, “I’ve catered a few of your events and we had sex once, but I hardly think that’s enough to establish a real foundation of trust-”

“Hush,” Max said, quieting you by placing one large finger against your lips, “I trust you because you’ve never lied to me. You’ve always treated me fairly. And right now, I need someone who isn’t going to yell at me or tell me exactly what I want to hear.”

“Ok-ay?”

“You’ve treated me well, so now I want to offer you something in return,” he continued, “I will grant you one wish. One wish for anything in the world. You can have anything you want, and in return I can make sure that the power truly works.”

You frowned. “Are you high right now? Did you take something downstairs?”

His words didn’t make any sense. Wishes? Powers?

“No! No, I didn’t,” he responded, running a hand through his hair in agitation. He sighed but then he reached for both of your hands and held them in his own. “Just believe me, I’ll prove it to you. Wish for something.”

His grip was strong but you didn’t feel threatened, just confused and maybe a small sense of pity. You figured there was no harm indulging him once, and then you could leave.

“Fine. I wish I had a Motorola DynaTAC. It’d be great for business but I could never afford one.”

Max grinned at you, “Your wish is granted.”

He leaned forward and pulled your joined hands closer as his body curled up. You were about to pull your hands away when he groaned, low and long. It sounded like pleasure turning into pain. You felt him shake and then a light breeze blew through the room, ruffling your hair. Strange. The window wasn’t open and there was no fan in the room.

“Max? What was that?” you asked slowly, glancing around the room. “Wait, are you okay?”

He was still doubled over, breathing heavily. When he heard you speak, he glanced back up and caught your eye with the wildest look you’d ever seen. His hair had fallen across his forehead and he had a sheen of sweat on his skin. But what shocked you the most was the flash of gold you saw in his eyes. You lifted a hand without thinking and brought it to his face, resting it against his cheek as you searched for the gold again, but it was already fading. Then Max shut his eyes and leaned into your palm, releasing a long sigh.

“What was that?” you asked again, softer this time.

“That… was your wish being granted.”

You looked where he pointed and your mouth dropped open when you saw the world’s first cell phone sitting beside you on the bed.

“This is real? How did you-”

You were cut off by Max’s lips crashing into yours. He grasped the back of your head and pulled you close, devouring your mouth. You moaned in surprise but then immediately gripped his shoulders to gain more leverage. You shifted against him so you were almost in his lap, and you quickly noticed how hard he was. You pulled back for a moment, your lips separating with a pop, and he gazed at you with a delirious expression.

“So you actually have powers. You can grant anybody’s wish?”

“It seems so, yes.”

You hummed. Whatever just happened… this wish granting. It seemed to physically affect Max in a big way. Your curiosity piqued again. “What does it feel like?” you asked, “Tell me. I want to know.”

He smirked and one of his hands tightened its grasp on your hip while the other held the back of your neck.

“Well, when the magic first washes over me… when the words ‘I wish’ fall from your lips… it feels, orgasmic,” he growled, leaning forward to whisper in your ear, “I can feel the power coursing through my veins, like hot fire running out from my spine to every nerve ending in my body.”

He shuddered as he said this, as if the mere thought of it caused his body to react, “It feels… uncontrollable-- as if a pleasure is being ripped from your body after you’re already over-sensitive. And I feel the power leave and spread. Then there’s a hint of pain at the back of my head, but it’s worth it.”

His words sent a rush of heat to your core. There’s something about the unpredictable mix of power and lack of control that has you growing wet as he speaks. You move so that you’re fully seated in his lap and you immediately get to work on the buttons of his dress pants.

“It sounds remarkable,” you mumbled, feeling drunk on secondhand power. You finally managed to release his cock and gave it a few pumps while he groaned.

“It is. I can feel the power coursing through me. The Dreamstone wants to be used. It urges me. I want more. I need more.” he groaned, grinding against you.

“I’m more. You can have me right now,” you heard yourself moan.

Max chuckled darkly and used both hands to drag your dress up your body and over your head, leaving you in your bra and panties. “Yes, I think I will.”

You gasped as two thick fingers plunged into you without warning. Max hummed, “So fucking wet already. Were you waiting for this, darling?“ He slowly pumped into you, drawing several gasps and moans as he hooked his fingers deep inside. Your hips ground against his hand, aching for more.

“Yes, please fuck me!!”

He growled and removed his hand, only to grasp his own cock and run it against your slick folds. You groaned when he finally pushed in, shuddering at the slight burning sensation of being filled so completely. Max pushed deeper until he was completely seated inside you, but then he stopped, holding you on his lap and letting you warm his cock. His head fell to your shoulder as you wiggled your hips, ready for him to move.

“Come on, Max,” you whined, feeling your muscles clench around his solid length. You thought you were getting what you wanted when he shifted his hips and lifted you up but he moved agonizingly slow.

“Tell me how much you want me,” he said, his chocolate brown eyes mostly black as he stared up at you. He held you just above his lap, and his hands squeezed your hips so tightly that you knew there’d be bruises there tomorrow.

“I want you Max. I need you.”

“And no one else?”

You didn’t say anything, your mind begging you to focus solely on the sensations. But Max wouldn’t relent. He pulled almost all the way out, leaving only the tip of his cock inside you as he stilled his hips. “Say it. Say there’s no one else like me.”

One hand snaked up and grabbed your breast, his thumb tweaking the nipple painfully.

“Only you!” you gasped, arching against him, “No one can do what you do!”

Max growled and plunged back into you, driving as deep as possible, “That’s right. Don’t you fucking forget it.”

You cried out at the feeling of him pounding back into you, setting a new fast and rough pace. You bounced on his lap, moaning his name as he fucked up into you. Neither of you lasted long. Soon enough your orgasm hit you like a truck, your walls fluttering around his cock as you grasped at his back and his hair. He followed after a few more rough thrusts, coating your walls with his release as he bit into your shoulder to quiet his groans.

You were so satisfied and blissed out that you didn’t remember crawling up towards the head of the bed and cuddling into Max’s warm, soft body to fall asleep.

This is why we can't have nice things, honey

Did you think I wouldn't hear all the things you said about me?

But the morning after served as a wake-up call.

“Max?”

Your eyes fluttered open when you realized he wasn’t still in bed next to you. You sat up, running a hand through your disastrous hair. He must have heard you call out because Max appeared in the doorway of the ensuite bathroom, already fully dressed for work.

“Ah you’re awake. I have to rush off, you don’t mind seeing yourself out do you?”

He glanced down when he said it, fiddling with his cuff-links. Your heart clenched painfully at his words, but this wasn’t your first foray into casual sex. What surprised you more was the fact that he seemed to want to ignore what he revealed to you last night. His new powers...

“What about last night?”

Max paused. He waved a hand in the air as he searched for the right thing to say, “I’m not sure that I have room for a relationship in my life right now. I’m-”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” you said sharply, fully aware that he was being evasive on purpose.

“Right. Of course. Well I have big plans for that too and they’re about to start today.”

“I don’t understand. What plans? Are you going to use this new power to-”

“Listen, I showed you what I showed you because I assumed you’d be discreet,” Max cut in, his face hardening, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to anyone. And I’m sorry, but I can’t explain right now.”

“Max…” you said slowly, “What are you going to do?”

“I have to go.”

He made his way to the door, not sparing you another glance as you sat in his bed, completely bewildered and more than a little concerned.

“What about me?”

“I’m sorry, honey. This is bigger than you.”

This is why we can't have nice things