#no and like. there is other things to eat but when i set my mind to smth i hate changing my plans and no onr in this house understand ugh

[navybrat817]

Cooking Together

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky asks you to cook a meal with him.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Fluff, longing, pining, canon divergent neighbor AU, flirting of sorts, mention of HYDRA, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Short and sweet for @stellar-solar-flare’s Starry Winter Sky Event! I went with cooking together and Neighbor AU as a small expansion of this nonsense. February has had some lingering January energy, and I hope you enjoy what I was able to write! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

If you asked Bucky if he thought he was a good cook, he’d say he was decent. He retained some of what his mom taught him many years ago and he carefully followed recipes once he was completely free of HYDRA. It was admittedly a bit of a rough go at first. Being able to choose what he could eat was a foreign concept after he didn't have the choice for so long. It got better each day. Every single meal he got to reclaim a piece of himself by making the choice of what he did and didn’t want.

Until today, he always cooked alone.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” you smiled, graciously accepting the apron he handed you.

Bucky had moved into the building a few months ago and you lived across the hall. As far as neighbors went, you were the best. Since day one, you always greeted him with a smile and a kind word. You never played your music too loud or disturbed anyone. Alpine adored you, which told him everything he needed to know since she was the best judge of character. And you never once objected to looking out for her when he had to leave for a mission.

Out of paranoia, he left harmless little “traps” to see if you'd snoop through anything the very first time you went over. Nothing that would hurt you or draw your attention, of course, but something that would let him know if anyone tampered with anything. You didn't. You were a genuinely good and respectful person, and that made him trust you more.

“Thanks for accepting the invitation. And allow me,” he offered, stepping behind you to help you tie it. His fingers lingered on the fabric and he took the moment to inhale your sweet scent before he stepped away. He didn't want to be a creep. “And it’s the least I could do since you offered to watch Alpine. Again.”

“I love watching her. She’s wonderful.”

The photos you sent were something he always looked forward to when he was away. Some of the captions you added made him laugh and smile. His favorite was a selfie you took with Alpine’s cheek against yours. He saved it as “my girls”, which you weren’t aware of.

Because you technically weren’t his girl.

“Well, she adores you,” Bucky smiled. He adored you, too. It stunned him when he found out you were single, and he was selfishly thankful for that. 

“I’ll have to get her another toy,” you said, your lips curling in a small smile. “If that’s okay with you.”

He laughed, a warm and easy sound. “Between the two of us, she’s spoiled rotten and she wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He never expected to be a cat dad, but life surprised him. In fact, it also surprised him that Alpine wasn’t camping out nearby or brushing against one of your legs. She was a smart cat and likely somehow sensed that he wanted alone time with you.

“Well, she deserves it,” you winked before things went quiet.

One of the nice things about hanging out with you was that he didn't mind any bouts of silence. They didn’t feel awkward or tense. In those quiet moments and stolen glances he felt like he had the best conversations with you. He was happy and felt safe being in the same space as you.

“You know,” Bucky began as he set the ingredients on the counter. He lucked out by having a decent sized kitchen since he took up a lot of space. “If I was a better neighbor, I would've just cooked a meal for you while you relaxed.”

It felt romantic for the two of you to cook together, but you weren't together and now he felt like an idiot. A gentleman would've made you a meal and pampered you. Or take you out for a nice meal. He hadn’t dressed up, opting for his jeans and a trademark Henley while you wore a sundress that had his mind racing with both sweet and filthy images. He didn't have flowers for you either.

His “game”, as Sam would say, was rusty.

“You're a great neighbor, Bucky. The best neighbor I’ve had,” you defended. He tried to be a good neighbor and person. A minor way to make up for some of his forced wrongdoings. “And cooking something together is fun! We could even try something at my place next week if you'd like.”

Bucky almost knocked the salt over, his eyes wide. “Really?” You were inviting him over to do this again?

“Yeah, really,” you replied, taking a moment to scan the simple recipe in the cookbook. You always had the cutest expression when you concentrated on something, and he didn’t want to choose something too difficult for the first meal. “We can take turns picking things out to try and trade off cooking at your place and mine. You can even bring Alpine over if you want.”

He suddenly had the image of you in his arms, dancing around the kitchen as you both waited for a meal in the oven to cook. Soft music, low lighting, his hands on your hips, and a tender smile on your face. Stealing a gentle kiss and keeping his eyes open only for a moment so he could see for himself that it wasn't a dream.

“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling his hair back in a ponytail and washing his hands to distract himself from his thoughts. “I’d really like that.”

“Great,” you exhaled. His heart beat faster when he caught you staring. He liked to pretend the look in your eyes was longing. “Sorry. You just…” you cleared your throat and gestured to his head. “You have really nice hair.”

The compliment had his heart racing even faster. “I have nice hair?” he asked. Your fingers would feel amazing in his hair.

You ducked your head for a moment before you met his gaze with a soft smile. “Yeah, you do.”

“Thanks,” he smiled back, his shoulder brushing yours when he stood beside you. Electricity lightly cracked between you. Did you feel it, too? “Um, I peeled the carrots before you got here. Would you like to cut them?”

“Oh, I think you’re better with a knife than I am,” you giggled.

He puffed his chest out and twirled the knife he selected in his hand without thinking about it. Part of him was showing off because, well, he wanted you to stare again. “How about I help you?”

“Help me? How?” you asked.

“Here.” He placed the knife in your hand and stood behind you once he had the carrots on the cutting board. “I’m going to preface this by saying I’m far from an expert, but I usually cut them into decent sized pieces before I dice them.”

“I trust your judgement,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. Your faces were close enough that he could kiss you if he leaned in a fraction. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t take what you didn’t offer.

Carefully placing his hands over yours once you faced forward, he felt that electricity crackle again as he helped guide you. He angled his hips so he didn’t press against you, but still stayed close. “See? You’re a natural,” he whispered against your ear when you made the first cut through the vegetable.

He heard the hitch in your breath and how your blood rushed faster in your veins. He felt your skin warm under his touch as you cut the next piece. He also caught the slight tremble that went through your frame when his grip tightened, but he didn’t sense any fear. He hadn't detected any sort of fear or disgust since he came into your life.

But what he sensed in this very moment was excitement.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you whispered back. The way you spoke his name was breathy, beautiful, and he longed to hear that again. “You’re a great teacher.”

“I’m not,” he said, thankful your back was to him so you wouldn’t see the pink that tinted his cheeks. “But I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, you are,” you stated, tempting him to turn your head toward him to kiss you. If he did that and you stabbed him, he wouldn’t blame you or hold it against you. “And Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“I really am glad you invited me over,” you said.

He stopped himself from putting his face in the crook of your neck. “I am, too,” he said, smiling to himself as he helped you finish up. “And now that you’ve mastered the carrots, we can chop the onions.”

“Onions? Oh, no,” you groaned playfully.

As the sound of both of you laughing a second later filled the room, Bucky was glad he went with his gut and asked for you two to cook together.

And maybe before the night was over, he’d ask you out on a date and prove to himself that his game wasn't completely hopeless.

I wonder just how he'll ask you out! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[chimielie]

hold ‘em up (above my heart)

summary: Atsumu x Physical Therapist!F!Reader. the sun rises and sets over and over as your relationship progresses from friends to pro yearners to more.

wc: 4.3k

cw: friends with benefits subplot and all that entails; not explicit, just suggestive, reader is fighting for her LIFE in her brain, atsumu is just chilling (not really)

a/n: hi i didn’t die :3

“Hands up,” you say, voice low so as not to disturb the peace of the morning.

Atsumu raises his arms, elbows bent, making a frame of his face. His blond hair is pale, almost white because his little kitchen window faces east and he wakes before it rises above the upper pane. You sidle past him, back to his front, ignoring the weight of his hand as it settles on your hip while you reach up for the granola you keep in the cabinet next to the fridge.

He likes traditional Japanese breakfasts, the savory and umami flavors of natto and rice and miso. You have a sweet tooth and a craving for crunchy food, like a wild animal that needs to grind down its molars. On the days he has work, he settles for an omelette (or scrambled eggs if he fucks it up). You eat the same thing every morning or you'll be sick.

Growing up, Atsumu was never a morning person, but he sleeps better on the nights you're next to him. He doesn't get angry when you slosh milk over the side of his bowl onto his dining table, doesn't snap when you ask him what his plans for the day are. Maybe this is what being an adult is, these steady waters and calm skies.

You don't speak much as you chew, staring into space and thinking the slow thoughts of the exhausted, and he busies himself scrolling through his group messages and social media accounts.

There's a request from a verified account, a retired athlete-turned-model. He knows her name, has seen her in ads, bumped into her at the last Olympics. He clicks on it.

Hey, handsome. I'll be in Osaka this upcoming weekend - let's get a drink!

"I'm gonna shower," you're patting your hair, looking irritated. It always sticks up in the morning, no matter how you sleep on it, a few particular strands defying gravity.

"You should go to work like that," he says, voice still rough even if his mind's woken up. His accent is thicker in the morning, you've told him, but he can't hear it.

"Hell no," you say. "You're the only one who gets to see this morning glory for now."

"I better be," his grin is roguish, running his hand through his own bird's nest. "C'mon, you gonna let me shower with you or what?"

"No, you'll use up all my nice shampoo again!" You fake running to the bathroom, keeping your pace slow enough for him to wrap his arms around your waist and tackle you down, careful to fold himself so that you land on top of him, body between his legs, face cushioned on his chest.

He leaves his phone face up, forgotten on the table.

He's toweling off his hair, dressed in his practice uniform, while you're packing your bag for the day in the kitchen. His apartment is small, way smaller than some of the other guys' on the team, but he grew up crammed into a room with his mom and his brother. He'd toured one penthouse and decided he couldn't live with all that space strangling him.

He'd tried to get Samu to bunk with him like old times, but his brother had just said I'll sleep three meters from your dirty laundry in hell, and that was the end of the argument.

Besides, he has a lot of car bills to pay. He managed to fold another Mazda last month and you've been carpooling in your ancient Toyota while he waits to get license privileges again ever since.

"You got a text, by the way," you say casually, digging through your purse with your lips twisted to the side. "Aha!" You pull out a tube of lipstick triumphantly. "You should respond before you forget."

"Ah, was it Samu?" He asks, crossing back into the bedroom to put away his damp towel.

"Nah, the model," you call. "Sorry, I read your texts."

You're fighting the growing bitterness of the words, trying to sound jaunty and uncaring and casual. The admission of invading his privacy weighs heavily on your shoulders; you can't make yourself look up into his face when he comes into the kitchen.

"I don't care," he shrugs. "You can read whatever you want."

"You shouldn't say that," you try to laugh and wince instead. He just grunts and picks up the phone, swiping away from the conversation and leaving her on read. "I don't have the right, don't I? I shouldn't have—"

"I really don't care," he cuts across your strained attempt at an apology again.

"You should!" You sound like you're about to stamp your foot at him. He doesn't understand why you're so angry; he doesn't bite. "Aren't you gonna get mad? Shouldn't we be fighting?"

"I don't wanna fight," he rubs his large, calloused hand over your shoulder, your upper trapezius, to cup the back of your and pull you into a loose embrace. You stand, dumbfounded, chin pushed into his shoulder, hands at your sides. "Do you? We can if you want to."

"No," you whisper. "Sorry, I—sorry."

"'S okay," he says, digging his thumbs into the tight knots of muscle. "No big deal. Here, you dropped your thingy."

The thingy is the tube of lipstick, a deep berry color, rolling towards the edge of the table. He steps back and squeezes your cheeks in one hands, prompting you to part your lips slightly. He does it how he knows you do, a soft smear on the lower lip and two dabs made sharp by a swipe of his thumbnail on the outer creases, all blended together at the end for a subtle touch of color.

"You look like a frog about to burp," he says when he's done. You laugh so hard you cry.

On the car ride to work, you keep chewing on your lip. He frowns when he notices, all his work bitten off.

You wait for him to get out of the car first, a holdover from the days when you would wait five minutes so no one would notice that you were coming from the same place. In some ways, it's easier that he crashed his car; so convenient that you volunteered to be his chauffeur. He comes to your side, opens your door. You squint at him, jutting your chin out like you're bracing yourself for something.

"I wasn't gonna go out with her," he tells you, a secret between you, him, and the hard asphalt of the MSBY gym's employee parking lot. "Ain't nobody else seein' this in the mornings either. That's all."

He turns around and strides off, leaving you blinking in the morning light.

"Can you move it?" You say, your brows knit together. Hinata grimaces.

"I can bend it, like this—" he curls the injured finger inward. "But it won't stretch out, like this. Ah!"

You release his hand, where you'd applied pressure to the digit. "It's sprained. You're sitting out the rest of practice."

"Aw, but it really doesn't hurt that bad," he protests. You give him a look. "Okay, okay. Can I least do some running and stuff?"

"Do you want to come to practice tomorrow?" You say evenly. He gives you big brown puppydog eyes and you fold like wet paper. "I'll give you some stretches and exercises for your legs that you probably can't fuck up."

"Yay!" He cheers. "Thank you!" He uses an affectionate diminutive of your name with -chan tacked on the end. You laugh and wave him off, walking out of the main gym area toward your office, where you can print him the exercises.

You lean against your desk while the printer huffs temperamentally, taking a long sip of coffee. You should really stop going over to Atsumu's on weeknights, but you've been telling yourself that for well over a year, and it's a lot more convenient since all your clothes and your toothbrush live at his place.

You tell yourself a lot of things when it comes to your blond coworker.

The door to your office slams open and you make an involuntary, high-pitched noise in the back of your throat, focusing hard on keeping the cardboard cup in your hand from jumping with you.

"Sorry, sorry," Bokuto says, his hair drooping dramatically. "It's just really important—Tsumu's hurt!"

You take an inhale so quickly it hurts and burst your coffee cup all over your coat and work pants. Luckily, you take it mostly milk and sugar, so it doesn't burn you, but you don't even really notice it, just shedding the coat and rolling up your sleeves as you stride out the door without hesitation.

Behind you, Bokuto follows, making garbled promises you hear as through water to buy you a house to make up for startling you and ruining your outfit.

You try to take three deep breaths before you enter the gym, knowing you'll be much more helpful calm rather than battling the wall of panic that threatens to overtake you. Atsumu is blocked from your vision by a crowd of his teammates, fluttering around him like a herd of bumblebees.

Iwaizumi is already there, you see with an exhale of relief, ordering everyone around him to stay calm. You motion to the players around him to give him space, hoping your terror doesn't show untowardly on your face, hoping he can feel your singleminded prayer: please be okay.

"Eh?" He has a dopey expression on his face, dopier than usual, anyway. He says your name gleefully, but you're too busy scanning him for visible blood or bone to respond right away. "Nice shirt. Hey, why's your coat off? Were you taking off your clothes in there? Without me?"

"He collided with Sakusa," Iwaizumi tells you. Atsumu reaches for your hand and you stroke your fingertips lightly over the back of it, along the bones and tendons, each touch saying you'll be okay, it's going to be okay.

I'll make it okay.

"Sakusa's shoulder got banged up, you should probably put him on reserve for a couple days," Iwaizumi says. You glance over at the black-haired spiker, who gives you a thumbs-up though his expression is characteristically flat. "Atsumu, though... he fell pretty hard."

You can see that. There's a bruise blooming along the side of his face, like the sloppy trail of your lipstick after a night out. His ankle is swollen, too; the disorientation of the head injury must have impaired the grace of his landing.

You kneel and shift into clinical mode, receding into the comfortable space of your training. You feel along his leg, asking him over and over does it hurt, can you move this, does it hurt when I do this.

"Okay, doc?" His beautiful honey eyes are unfocused. You want to cry. You want to squeeze his hand tighter, but you don't want to hurt him more. "S all good. I'm fine."

You shake your head, grateful it's not worse. Afraid of what you have to say to him.

"That's right, you'll be fine. But the concussion paired with the ankle injury... I don't think it's a good idea for you to return to practice for a month at least."

You squeeze your eyes shut and pull your hands away from him. He probably doesn't want to be touched. He might hate you for this.

What's the point of sleeping with the doc if I don't get special privileges, you imagine him saying, if you're gonna take my life away from me like this. A month of recovery doesn't sound like so much to other people, but you've been working around these volleyball freaks since high school. You know that it's everything to them.

"Okay," Atsumu simply says. You look at him. "You gonna drive me home?"

"If you don't mind," you say softly.

"Yeah, then it's okay," he says, and scoots around, hissing when he forgets and puts pressure on the injured ankle. He leans back, and you catch his head in your lap.

"I'm gonna break my leg," Barnes says from somewhere behind you. "I want the doc to hold me like that."

You hear a thwack and then Iwaizumi's voice: "Sakusa, stop concussing your teammates. L/N only has so much room in her car."

Atsumu recovers more quickly than you expect. You should have known, though; he's always had a strong ability to heal. He rarely gets sick and though he's brash and reckless and sometimes outright stupid, he's lucky. In almost all the inadvisable endeavors you've seen him pull, he almost never gets hurt.

You're not actually a doctor, not that the team believes that. You've been trying to explain that you're a sports medicine physical therapist for the three years you've been working for MSBY and not once has it deterred anyone from calling you doc.

Atsumu was signed six months after you started, and you had only been friends until a year after that. In all that time, you've been the consummate professional at work, never letting your touches linger, never stretching him too deeply, trying not to stare at him like he's just any other player. When he first propositioned you, you tried not to say yes too quickly, as businesslike as possible.

You went into sports medicine because of your sister. She had been a superstar from the moment she stepped foot on a tennis court; even at a young age you saw that she wielded the racket like it was an extension of herself. As the two of you grew in age, you also saw the ways she overextended herself: the swollen knobs of her knees, hidden under frozen packs of peas, the frequent doctor's visits for hyperextension, the tear tracks when she tore her ACL.

You had spent so much of your childhood waiting for her during practice, doing your homework in the bleachers, fielding questions about her play to the uninitiated relatives who came to support her matches that it felt like the most natural course of action to go into a career field that meant you could help her and others like her chase their dreams.

You had also almost exclusively dated athletes as a result. While you were attending university and chasing your certifications, you had been surrounded by two types of people: students and athletes. You had barely any time in your schedule, much less the ability to align it with a similarly crammed med student. Athletes, on the other hand, didn't have an obsession with comparing your knowledge, liked that you were too busy to monitor them all day long, and loved that you had to attend every one of their games because it was literally your job.

By the time you got the position in Osaka, you were beyond over the routine of dating the people in your care. You swore to yourself that you wouldn't mess around with the team and entered a yearlong celibate streak, which Atsumu blew up into a million pieces and never allowed to recover.

To his (and your) credit, the both of you became close friends before ever crossing the boundary of inappropriate conduct. Just because you were strictly business during work hours didn't mean that you, lonely and shy in a new city, were going to turn down your coworkers' offer to go out after practice. You'd gotten to know Meian well and considered Bokuto to be something of a little brother. Then they had traded a couple of players for Atsumu, and the moment he gripped your hand and slapped your shoulder instead of shaking it or bowing like a normal person, you knew that he was going to mean much more to you than any other of your team.

You had fallen quickly into a deep friendship, and his apartment was much closer to the team's favored bars than yours was, so it was just easier for you to go home and crash on his couch. And his couch was gross, because it belonged to a bachelor who had never heard of a steam cleaner, so one night you insisted on sharing the bed, and you had become good friends who cuddled weekly.

It happened like this:

You were the last two left in the booth that had once contained the extremely compressed bodies of several of the largest men in Japan, probably, but they had practice early the next morning and had trickled out, one by one. Atsumu had his head down on the table while you desperately tried to convince him to come home (already you were referring to his apartment as your home without thinking, though only a spare toothbrush and a coat were kept there at the time).

"Please," you said, "I'm so tired. I'm not even drunk anymore."

"I am," Atsumu said, turning his face toward you. "Very."

"I know," you groaned. "Let's go home."

"I can't," he said despondently.

"Why not?"

"Not with you," his words slurred together. "I gotta problem."

"What?" You suddenly felt very, very sick. Maybe you were more drunk than you'd thought.

"Mhm. I gotta apologize, I think."

Oh, you thought. This is it. He knows.

"I've been having," he hiccuped and turned his face into his arms again so that you couldn't hear the next thing he mumbled.

"I can't hear you like that," you say softly. "Please, Atsumu, you can tell me anything."

You've been seeing someone, and she wants me to stop sleeping over. She wants you to stop being friends with me. You need the apartment to yourself to have her over.

"No," he says, turning back to you again, his eyes glossy with drink, his lips pink and just the slightest bit open. "I have been having manly thoughts about you. Unmanly thoughts. Whatever."

"What do you mean?" You'd asked, heart beating fast.

"I wanna have sex with you," he said, and then slammed his forehead against the table until it left a red mark. "I'm sorry, women! It's wrong to dream about kissing your girl friends, I know!"

You ignored his nonsensical shouting and put your hand under his face so he wouldn't injure it.

"Then let's go home so we can have sex," you said. He whipped his head up so fast you worried for his spinal discs.

"You promise?"

You actually didn't have sex that night because he fell asleep as soon as you coerced him into the bed. The next morning, he'd been hungover and ashamed, stuttering and afraid to look you in the eye. You had given him a handful of painkiller pills and waited until he was washing it down with a glass of green juice before you said "I think about having sex with you, too," so that he spewed it all over the floor.

Maybe it was petty, but you needed vengeance for his forcing you to drag him bodily out of that bar the previous night.

After your first time, he said, awkwardly, something about not being able to commit to a relationship at the moment, something about difficulty expressing his feelings, about being too immature to settle. A script you were as familiar with as the back of your hands. You turned to him, swiping sweaty strands of hair out of your face, glowing with a smile as he stuttered his way through it, and said I know the game. We don't have to talk about it.

He insisted that it wasn't a game, that you deserved transparency and to be treated well, and you rolled over on top of him and kissed him until he forgot his own name.

During the month-long recovery period, you had resumed the friendship you had had in the early months of knowing each other, refusing adamantly to do anything strenuous or even unsportsmanly while you had to work much more closely together than ever before. You insist on sleeping at your own apartment for the first week, afraid of aggravating his injuries further, until he threatens to walk to you with his pillow and sleepover bag. You bring him food near-daily and call his brother when your schedule prevents you from doing so.

He's diligent about doing the exercises and stretches you assign him to bring him back to full functionality. Towards the end of his detention (you pinch him for using such a dramatic word), you start taking walks together, in the evenings on work days and the mornings on days off.

You keep expecting him to ask for space, to push you out of his daily routine, to realize that he's bored because he knows everything about you; there's nothing left to hide. Nothing except the one unspoken thing, the one you're sure he knows but you can't acknowledge.

New growth is beginning to sprout on the trees, grey wood dotted with little specks of bright green. Atsumu walks without a limp, now, his posture straight but relaxed, his hands shoved into his pockets.

His body is healed, but his heart aches. You're wearing casual clothes, big soft pants that billow around your legs and a black shirt with his name in yellow letters, and you look far away, worried. No matter how many times he smooths the pinch between your brows away with his thumb, no matter how many times he asks what's wrong, you refuse him a straight answer.

He wonders if he's pulled you too close, in this month dying of boredom, forbidden from running and setting and anything that could damage his brain. He still gets to see you in the morning, your back arching as you stretch and yawn, the crinkle of your nose when your feet touch the cold floor outside of bed, which is probably slowly draining all the function from his grey matter.

You're wearing gloves, your extremities sensitive to the cold. He takes your left hand, tugs it off. When he tangles your fingers together, you look up at him, questioningly, that knot between your brows back again.

"What, woman, now I can't hold your hand?"

You stop walking. He curses his big, fat mouth. He always chooses the wrong thing to say, always has.

Osamu used to ask him what he was supposed to say to girls. Atsumu, proud big brother that he wanted to be, would puff out his chest and give him paragraphs of advice, and Osamu almost never used it. There were so few opportunities for him to advise Samu, though; he was so self-sufficient, maybe more than Atsumu had ever been. He was more introverted, less brash and crass and rude. Sometimes, when Atsumu ceded his insistence on being the wiser one with six more minutes of life experience, he wished he could be more like his twin.

"Do you love me like that, Atsumu?" You ask, mouth pressed into an unhappy line, already pulling away from him like you were expecting him to say something completely insane. "Because I understood fucking, and being friends with benefits, but I don't know if I get going out for food and holding hands and—"

"Like?" He says, refusing to let your hand slip from his. "I love you. That's it."

"Oh," you say, and your mouth is twisted up like you're searching for something he can't see again, but the crease in your forehead is gone.

"You gonna go out with me?" He says, and it comes out way easier than he ever thought it would, and if choosing the rest of his life is as simple a decision as chasing volleyball and you has been, growing up sounds way better than he thought. "'Cause I wanna do it all with you."

Once Atsumu's allowed to drink again, it's time for the real volleyball season to start, and his diet becomes much stricter and your schedule much longer, but eventually the two of you find yourselves back at the same old bar with the rest of the team.

"You're a scrub with no hope of survival in the zombie apocalypse," sneers Atsumu. This is a common topic of conversation among them; each one vying to be the leader of your hypothetical ragged survivors' team.

"I could win a fight against you with one hand tied behind my back," snits Tomas, who usually is oblivious to Atsumu's provocations but gets a lot feistier when he's drunk, to the setter's delight.

"Please don't," says Bokuto, his hair deflating in fear of his friends fighting.

"Haven't you had enough dick measuring," says Sakusa, holding a mug in front of his face like it'll prevent him from seeing Atsumu's and thus pretending he's not there.

"Have you guys ever done that?" You perk up, looking around. "Isn't that supposed to be a locker room ritual?"

"In high school, maybe," snorts Barnes. "We're way too old for that now."

"Yeah, we're real mature," insists Bokuto, his hair bouncing back up into its familiar two-pronged shape. You’ve long wondered how it does that, but if working with MSBY has taught you anything, it’s that science can’t explain everything.

You nod, taking another sip of your beer.

“So how big is it?” Atsumu addresses Sakusa and you squeeze your eyes shut. You just got him to start attending team bonding nights.

“Small. Leave me alone.” You choke on your drink, spluttering as you make eye contact with Sakusa and the tiny, prideful smirk on his face.

The rest of the team dissolves into laughter.

"What about you?" Hinata, his cheeks rosy, says to Atsumu. Before you can think, your drunken mouth speaks for you.

"You can’t have it, I called dibs!”

You slap a hand over your mouth, mortified. You can’t even begin to think about the rest of your coworker’s reactions. You haven’t even disclosed your relationship yet! Atsumu guffaws.

“I don’t think anyone’s trying to take it from ya, doll.”

[xoxoaugust]

I Dont Know If I'll See You Again

In which: Sae Itoshi knew what he wanted from the beginning. He wanted to be a professional soccer player, and to play alongside those who weren't a waste of time (well according to him). Unbeknownst to Sae, a little birdie told him that you, a childhood friend of his, would be in Spain for the next three years. He didn't think he'd ever see you again, especially not after your, not so peaceful falling-out. But who knows what might happen when he comes face to face with you again? (2.0k wc)

an: This is 4 years after the start of the first selection, so Sae is around 22 years old. In this timeline, Sae and Rin have made up (because I said so) and he has returned to Spain to continue playing. I put this with the U-20 team because the only other person I know of that was on the Spainish team is Luna, sooooooo idk idk. Reader is fem, and is a university student in film studies. Enjoyyyy!(might make multiple parts)

His POV

January 1st, 2022

The New Year, god he hated the New Year. What is so special about a new year? It's just another 365 days to spend, what is so different that you must celebrate so loudly. Sae was just a little bit grumpy that all he could hear was loud music, drunkenly cheers, and laughter all night long.

Sae was meticulous about his night routine, he would work out, shower, brush his teeth, wash his face, set his hair, put on his sleep mask and then pass out. Unfortunately for his teammates, he couldn't sleep properly that night, so now everyone must suffer. Luckily, practices were called off for the week, for new years, and weather reasons.

'no practice' is not a thing to Sae, even if they were called off, he would still be at that field. So there he was 6:00 AM on January 1st, practicing alone. He didn't mind being alone, he was more than used to it. But sometimes, even just for a split second, he forgets that there was a time where he wasn't truly lonely. That split second eats at his mind like that plague, he hated how vulnerable it made him feel, so he would act like it never happen.

January 5th, 2022

When he wasn't at the field practicing or at home watching clips, he would be found at the little family cafe down a couple blocks from his penthouse. He would go there after an early morning jog, and order the same thing. An unsweetened iced matcha with a yogurt fruit bowl, he liked it because it didn't fill him up too much before a practice.

That morning at practice in locker rooms, he overheard something...interesting. He couldn't give a crap about anything Aiku had to say, but this was the only time he was truly listening.

"A close friend of mine is coming back for some time, she hasn't told me how long she's going to stay, but she's studying here."

Out of curiosity, Sendou asks,

"What's her name? Is she hot?"

"Why is that the first thing you think of? She's pretty but thats so weird to say. Her name is [y/n]."

"Well my bad! Its not like i'm going to try, I'm going to date a hot actress."

The groans let out in that room echoed from wall to wall, but Sae on the other hand broke character. Sae is know for his neutral, cold demeanor, but hearing your name clashed against the chink in his armor, and was enough for the walls to come crashing down.

November 27th, 2017

His POV

God, what a drag. Why was Rin so damn persistent on that dream, it wasn't even realistic.

Sae had just won the goal against Rin, and sealed the deal of scrapping that old dream. He had to say, he didn't enjoy saying this to his brother, but if no one was going to be honest with him, who was?

He knew his brother would be at that field, but he didn't know that you would be there.

He turned to look at you, standing there with a shocked expression and teary eyes. He couldn't stand it, why were you looking at him like that? Like he was evil, or something.

You walked closer to the brothers. Sae thought you would walk to him and say something. Maybe a 'Welcome back!' or something that matched your usually cheerful personality. But no, you walked right over to Rin, and helped him up off the ground.

Rin saw you like an older sister, you basically were. You always made sure he took care of himself, even before Sae left. He had immense respect for you, he considered you his best friend.

Rin stared down at you with a heartbreaking expression, tears flowed down his face as he avoided making eye contact with you for too long, he thought it might spare some of his dignity.

Your POV

At first you were shocked, how could Sae do this? Easy answer, this wasn't your Sae.

Your Sae would rather die than ever hurt his little brother, he would never intentionally hurt him. Your Sae would give his younger brother the last popsicle, he would bandage his wounds, he would play with him, protect him from anything or anyone that even tried to harm his precious brother. They were like peas in a pod.

You would know, you and Sae had practically raised Rin. You would pack him and Sae food to eat after playing because they would always forget, and they would always get hangry. They would stop by your house right next door and take you to their games, to get popsicles. You saw how kind Sae truly was, Rin brought out the best in him.

But now, he's changed.

Now you felt anger, unadulterated rage.

You didn't hesitate. Not even a little bit.

You shot a glare at him before marching up to him.

You slapped the everliving shit out of him.

You left a red mark on his face, the hands he used to hold had now hurt him.

The two of you never dated, but you acted like a couple. Just two kids holding hands on the park benches eating snacks, stolen glances and warm cheeks.

Sae was your first love, and you were his first love.

No, scratch that. You taught him love.

He stood there, like a kicked puppy holding his cheek. No expression, just a frown tattooed on his pretty face, the same on he walked in with.

You never yelled at him, until today.

"Sae Itoshi, I don't know what happened to you in Spain, and honestly I don't care right now, but you cannot treat Rin this way!

I don't know who you think you are, maybe that 'Japan's Treasure' title finally got to you, but the audacity is appalling!

You come back after FOUR WHOLE YEARS, you didn't contact Rin or I for three years out of the four.

and the first FUCKING thing you say is say is this lame, no PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A HELLO?

no, you don't get to treat either of us this way, some treasure you are."

That got his attention.

"What did you want me to do? Let him live on with some childish dream? He won't get anywhere dreaming like a toddler. I was busy building my career, not that you would know anything about that."

If you weren't angry before, you were SCATHING now.

You took a breath in, and out.

You wanted to scream, but you knew it would be a lost cause.

"When did you get so cruel?"

...

Thats where the memory ended before Aiku's loud voice snapped him out of his daze. His mind clouded by the vision of her teary eyes.

It couldn't be you right? There could always be another person with the same name, there's no way you could ever be friends with Oliver Aiku.

*incoming call from [name]*

Oliver picked up his phone and answered your call.

"Hey what's up?"

"I'm at the airport right now, can you drop me to my apartment building?"

"I am nothing but a servant to you huh?"

"So dramatic, i'll just take an uber you lazy ass"

Oliver laughs before saying

"No i'm done with practice i'm on my way"

Now he was sure, it was you. He would never forget that voice. The voice that he would wait to hear every night over the phone when he first went to Spain. The voice that brought him comfort when he was homesick. And the same voice that flooded him with guilt for the last 5 years.

a week later ----------------------------------------------------------------

He jogs to his little cafe down the street, same time as usual. He walks in, slightly sweaty.

As he approached the counter, he froze.

"Can I have one sweetened iced matcha and one avocado toast? Thanks!" You smiled as you swiped the card and clicked the 20% tip option before turning around to find a nice table.

When you turned around, you made eye contact with Sae.

It was as if time stood still, or rather time spun backwards.  

You hated this, you hated how you turned into that lovesick little girl in his presence, even after five whole years.  

You broke eye contact. You weren’t going to let him ruin your breakfast or ruin your stay in Spain. You walked past him to the nice table next to the window.  

He walked up to the register and order his usual. He tends to forget that he grew to love matcha because of you, yet another reminder of you.  

He grabs his food and sits at the table right next to you.  

“You just can’t leave me alone, can you?” You said sharply. 

“You’re sitting at the table I usually sit at; this was the next best seat.” 

“Still an ass I see” you laughed bitterly. 

You sipped on your matcha as you typed away on your laptop, being an exchange student was no joke. You felt Sae’s eyes on your screen.  

“What are you studying here?” Sae asked. 

You sighed, loudly.  

“I’m here for my bachelor’s degree, in film studies.” 

“You still want to be an actor? Wow, you haven’t changed.” 

You turned to him and glared. 

“No, I'm studying to be a director.”  

He turned his head to look at you.

"You always talked about how much you wanted to be an actress, what changed?"

You scoffed, how dense can one man be?

"Well people change, you're walking proof."

He sighed, he and Rin had made up years ago, why were you still upset?

"You know Rin and I made up right?"

You stopped typing.

"I know." You said softly.

In all honesty, you didn't know why you were still angry, it was probably bitterness because he didn't reach out in those five years to say anything, but then again you didn't expect him to anyways.

In your mind you felt bad, you shouldn't hold a grudge, especially not for this long, but you'd never admit that out loud.

"How have you been? It's been a while." You said, in effort to reciprocate the conversation.

"Not too bad, what about you?"

"I'd be good if my professor wouldn't assign more than he can grade, but aside from that i'm good."

You smiled awkwardly before turning back to your laptop to type. Sae felt relief, he's never felt this tense about anything.

"How is Rin? Did you see him before coming here?" he asked.

You felt a smile creep up to your lips, you knew he loved his brother.

"I did, he's doing great, he's playing in pro leagues now, watch out though, he might kick your ass."

He almost laughed, you're still the funny and loving girl you've always been. You sat in comfortable silence for the remaining time, but as you got up to leave and say goodbye, he stops you. He writes something down on a notecard that slipped out of your bag.

"Is this your number?"

"Yes, I got a new one back when I got a new phone. Call me if you need anything."

You smiled.

"I will, i'll see you around." You waved at him before walking out of the cafe.

You had only just left, but Sae hopes that you'll call soon.

As he jogs back to his penthouse, he feels his phone vibrate.

Today 7:13 AM

Is this Sae? It's {name}

Yes this is Sae.

jeez you text like an old man

Using grammar is being like an old man?

yes

Now I see how you and Aiku are friends.

thats so mean :(

whatever

Oliver told me to come to one of your practices so you might see me there

Okay, see you then.

He felt his chest bubble when he heard you call Aiku by his first name. But, at least he knew when he'd see you again.

xoxo, august

(pt 2 upon request)

[alwayzadorbs]

Just found your account and you're automatically my fav luci writer my god?? YOU'RE FEEDING US Could you do lucifer with a virgin mc who's oblivious to advancements but gets extremely shy if lucifer spells it out for her👉👈

You're in luck, Anon! I hope you don't mind if I refer to MC with gender-neutral pronouns! I'll still describe other stuff but I just feel more comfortable writing that way :D I'm glad you like my writing so much, it means the world to me! I'll try to write more for you! <3

rating: Smut, 18+

You couldn't deny that you had feelings for Lucifer, you often thought about holding his hand or what it would be like to date him. So you couldn't help but smile when he offered to Tutor you for upcoming testing. It was a rare occasion for Lucifer to be able to tutor you instead of sticking it on Satan again, on account of the workloads Diavolo annually places on him.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You had brought your schoolwork to Lucifer's room, setting the stack of papers on his glass table, and sitting down on his couch. Lucifer came to sit next to you, pressing his leg against yours.

Clearing his throat, Lucifer said, "Let's begin with Spells and Potions..." Trying not to be distracted by his thigh touching yours, you jotted down the most important things.

"So, What do you think this one is?"Lucifer said, pointing towards the question and leaning over.

"I think that the answer is..." You trailed off, unsure if what you were about to say was right or wrong.

"Hm, Almost correct, Can you tell me what's wrong with this excerpt here?" He said, lightly placing his gloved hand on your knee, using his other hand to point towards the line of text you misinterpreted

"Uh," you paused, trying to sort your thoughts, there's no way Lucifer did that on purpose, it must've been an accident, no reason to get worked up... "Right here where I wrote eye of eye of newt, it's supposed to be, uh.."

Lucifer's hand trailed up from your knee to your thigh "Eye of hellfire newt, a small but distinct difference, it's easy to get confused when making this potion. The effects are, adverse and unwieldy." he chuckled lowly, lightly squeezing your thigh

"Let's continue, next is...Anatomy class," He continued, removing his hand from your thigh to pull his coat off "You need to understand a Demon's anatomy," his hands drifted to his necktie, wiggling it slightly before pulling it undone.

"Our bodies inside and out are actually quite similar, except for a few differences..." Lucifer explained, going into more detail, pulling his gloves off to unbutton his shirt, the first few buttons popping away from their spots, revealing his soft skin, and collar bones. "So tell me, where do you think my heart is? Go ahead, point." He shifted his body towards you on the couch, welcoming you to make the next move.

"W-wait what?" Your face flushed, Why did he just strip?! "I, I'm not sure.." you said, looking away, even though you wanted to stare.

Even when Lucifer went to the beach, with you and all his brothers, he wore a SPF shirt, never showing his muscles in their full glory, but now, you could finally see what he hit underneath his shirt. His ample pecs were decorated by his flush, pink nipples. You could eat up the sight for hours,, but it's wrong to look at somebody like that when they're trying to be professional, or at least that's what you thought was going on.

In all reality, you were completely oblivious to the fact Lucifer was coming on to you. And Lucifer was completely oblivious to the fact you were a virgin.

"Here, I'll show you." He said, smirking, guiding your hand with his towards his chest "If you press firmly enough, you can hear my heartbeat."

your breath stopped for a moment, his heart beat rapidly, and you could feel it radiating in your fingertips. Something about the way your hand pressed against his chest lit a fire in your loins. As soon as you felt it, heat flushed through your face, looking away and pulling your hand back.

"uh- sorry, yeah I felt your heartbeat," you said, awkwardly, feeling embarrassed. You subconsciously let your hand wander to your face, trying to hide a bit in your hand.

"Hm, Whats wrong, Mc?" Lucifer sighed, in a flirtatious tone. He reached out, guiding your head to face him with his index finger under your chin, with his thumb lightly placed on your chin.

He smiled, "Feeling embarrassed? That's hardly the most...sensitive subject for Demons." Now staring you down, with those gorgeous ruby eyes, there's no way you can look away.

He gripped your hand with his, guiding it to his frame once again "Lungs, spleen, liver,,," He continued to guide your hand down, with the corresponding areas of his organs, until, he could guide no longer, reaching his waistband.

"Mc," Lucifer edged closer, leaning in, cupping your face with his hands. "Kiss me."

Blush covered your face, stunned, you squeaked out, "Why?! I..I thought we were studying.." You said, reluctantly.

Lucifer laughed, "Mc, I want to be with you. Must I spell it out further? I want to have sex with you" He blurted out, shutting his eyes, blush creeping onto his cheeks.

"But..." you paused, looking away "I'm..uh, I'm a virgin!"

Before you could look back to see his reaction, Lucifer was on top of you, pressing his knee in between your legs. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle." he chuckled, kissing you softly while tugging at the buttons of your blouse.

Lucifer took his time, savoring the moment when the buttons came undone, revealing your gorgeous skin. He trailed his kisses down, nipping at your neck, down to your chest. He used one hand to gently roll one of your nipples around his pinchers, lightly squeezing and pulling them as he took the other into his mouth. He would circle his tongue around your nipple, ever so lightly grazing his teeth on them and nipping, earning a surprised gasp from you.

He pulled away, gliding his hands down your sides to the waistband of your bottoms, sliding them right off. Drifting his hands down your stomach and dipping his fingers into your underwear, Lucifer used his middle and ring fingers to slowly circle your clt.

pushing one finger into your wetness, curling it before pulling it almost out, then repeating the process until you were ready for another finger. two fingers, then three, then he figured you were ready, not for a fourth finger, but for him.

He pulled his fingers out, sitting up over you. he unbuttoned his pants, tucking his thumbs into his waistband, freeing his touch-starved cock, It twitched, begging to be pleased.

He slid his dick in between your folds, teasing you before putting it in, He pushed against your entrance until he met resistance. you rolled your head to the side, wincing a bit, feeling a tearing sensation.

As resistance snapped, Lucifer groaned, throwing his head back momentarily as he fully entered you. He sighed, "I want to see your reaction, look me in the eyes, Little lamb."

He slowly rocked his hips in and out, raking his hands towards your chest, squeezing your boobs, and rubbing your nipples with his thumb. He trusted deeper into you, causing you to gasp. He chuckled, His hand drifting from your chest to your clit again, using his thumb to rub circles while pounding you into next week.

"Oh, Lucifer!" you moaned without thought, but that only fueled him to vigorously fuck you harder.

He pulled out, flipping you on your stomach like you weighed less than air, he gripped your hips, bringing them into the air before pressing inside you again. "Mm~ you're so tight" Lucifer groaned, leaning into you, reaching deeper than he did before. He thrust in and out, slamming into your G-spot, every time he hit that sweet spot you saw stars.

At this point, you weren't aware of how much and how loud of noises you were making, being fucked numb, heat swelled in your loins, tickling you just the right way. You were so close to finishing, but couldn't quite get there

"Ah, Don't stop, Oh shit, Please don't stop!" You cried out, a panting, blubbering mess.

Lucifer only pushed himself deeper inside you, withdrawing his hand to spank you, slapping your ass then squeezing the area. You yelped when his hand hit your ass, looking back at him with pleading eyes. He smirked at you, proud of how easily he could make you crumble

"I'm so close," he sighed, the room filled with both of your moans and pants of pleasure "Mc, Mc!"

He slammed into you, your legs shaking as you were sent over the edge, feeling waves of pleasure crash into you, before being filled with hot liquid, bringing your orgasm to a peak. you grabbed desperately onto the couch, knuckles nearly turning white as you moaned out Lucifer's name.

After a moment, he pulled out of you, his cum spilling out as well. you both caught your breath for a minute before you sat up,

"Um, thanks for helping me study, Lucifer," you said, blushing, covering your body with your hands.

he laughed "Do you think I'm done with you? Not yet, stay in my room tonight, Mc." He looked at you with those seductive eyes "You're mine, remember?"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

"Whats that on your neck, Mc?!" Mammon asked, on the walk to school

"oh, um, its nothing, you know humans they're super fragile!" you laughed nervously, hoping he wouldn't realize it was a hickey from your 'study' session with Lucifer.

"Humans are so weak, nothing like The Great Mammon!" He boasted, quickly forgetting what just happened

"sure, humans are fragile!" Asmo laughed, knowing the truth behind the 'bruise' on your neck.

(side note: thank you for enjoying my stories enough to send an ask, sometimes I get writers block and its extremely helpful, I hope this wasn't too short. love ya, Reader, and Anon!)

[clementine-thedestroyer]

What about Raccoon! reader and bear! price. I think that would be a funny play on the usual prey hybrid reader.

Like this trash panda keeps leaving berries and cool junk outside Prices cave. He doesn't think the trash is as nice as you do but when he finally catches you and you have to try and explain Raccoon courting to him, he gets to decide if he wants to accept your offering or not!

(idk anything about Raccoon courtship btw I made that up💀)

I’m obsessed. I love this so much.

Maybe you’re bringing him what, in your eyes, isn’t even trash. Anything shiny, soft, or remotely interesting will catch your interest- one man’s trash is another man’s treasure and all that- and of course you want to share your greatest treasures with him.

So you start brining him your best finds as little gifts. The first thing you bring to him is an old disco ball ornament meant to dangle from a rearview mirror (it’s got a few of the reflective tiles missing, but they’re no great loss).

The second gift you bring is one of the reflective, crinkly cat toys that looks like little balls of tinsel (shiny and crinkly!!), and the third gift is a section of shiny copper pipe you found about to be thrown out.

You bring him other, smaller gifts too- those were just your favorites. You bring him some of the little minnows you snatch from the creek’s shallow banks and every pretty rock that catches your eye. If you don’t mind bugs, maybe you even bring him a butterfly with pretty wings or a shiny beetle to enjoy.

And all the while, John is convinced someone is fucking with him. Why is there a pile of 3 flopping, still alive and actively suffocating minnows in front of his den? What’s he even supposed to do with them? Eat them? They’re not even half the size of his pinky finger. Unsure of what to do, he ends up picking them up and taking them back to the water, perplexed by the situation.

But as more and more “surprises” of the like show up, he’s only getting more and more confused. Within a month, he’s found piles of junk in front of his send and he’s had to escort multiple sets of minnows and even a few frogs back to the stream. What’s he supposed to make of all this? What possible reason could someone have for leaving a broken pencil for him to find. Was there some sort of message?? Was that metal pipe supposed to be a threat???

So eventually he gets tired of being messed with and has a stakeout, hiding back in the underbrush and watching the entrance to his den as night falls, hoping to catch the perpetrator in the act.

He falls asleep on watch, only waking up at the sound of light, cautious footsteps near the entrance of his den.

He doesn’t hesitate. He knows this must be who’s been messing with him for the past few weeks.

He shoots out of the bushes, tackling you to the ground and ignoring your shrieks and squawks of protest as he wrestles you onto you back, pinning your arms down and glaring down at you.

“Alright. Jigs up. You had your fun messing around with me, but I’m tired of waking up to crap or half dead animals on my doorstep. Time to fess up.” He growls, looking at where he has your wrists pinned, noticing the mangled, bent metal fork in your hand.

Yep. It’s definitely been you.

“Christ.” He grumbles, plucking the fork from your hand, inspecting the twisted metal. “What the hell even is this? Where do you find this crap?? How much effort have you been putting into messing with me?”

“You don’t like it?” You say, your voice cracking.

John looks down at you, taking in the look of hurt in your eyes and the small, light grey and almost oval shaped ears sticking up from the top of your head.

He sighs, resigning himself. Of course you were a raccoon hybrid. He should’ve realized he was being courted… just the gifts and offerings of food didn’t quite line up with what he considered to be typical courting gifts.

He releases your wrists, sitting back on his heels to take his weight off you and taking a deep breath in.

“No… it’s… it’s fine. I love it…. Why don’t you come on inside.”

(Then like a week later after the two of you talk it out and he starts courting you back he just asks why the fish always had to be alive when you left them there and you just told him to prove that they were fresh)

[deadfrog-and-friends]

a work in progress

It feels. That's all it can do right now. Feel. Sensations it can't interpret, can't understand. All over its new form, feeling, stimuli. Something. Holding it. Something rubbing it. Something cutting into it—ahhh…it doesn't hurt, not exactly. It's just, what if the knife slips? Cuts deep? Too deep? It cuts, it cuts, shallow cuts, deep cuts… it's frightening. So many cuts before the blade is pulled away. It's. Fine. It's safe. A soft sensation, a digit, a finger, rubs over its entire form. Smooth. Gentle. Wonderful. Suddenly it's set down, and all there is to feel is the surface beneath it.

It lays in Stillness, there, the entity, for it is not yet a doll. It is just a block of wood, well, four or five blocks of wood, that have yet to become arms and legs and a head and ball joints. The surface vibrates as things move around it. People, Animals, various Things. Voices rendered into vibrations it can only feel. A door slamming in its frame, more vibrations. It starts to notice cold and hot as well. A window left open feels colder. A cat dozing nearby feels warmer. The warmth of the hand that finally picks it up again, is warmer still, and it brings it to the stove to work on it in the firelight, which is warmest yet. An ear is carved, and it can hear.

Voices. Voices it hears first, and the crackling of the fire. The one holding it has the sweetest. Another one, nearby, has its own music. The voice of the fire is anxious, a bit, its proximity seems to be causing a thumping, thumping, in that one's chest. Low to the ground, one last plaintive voice. The cat. The one holdng it carves a second ear.

"Won't you start on that commission. Please, dear." That was the further voice.

"I will, tomorrow," says the one holding it. "I just want to finish carving poor dolly's head."

"Can't it wait?"

"It's been waiting for a month already." The one holding it brushes sawdust out of its ear and it can hear more clearly. "It's just been sitting on my desk, sometimes I even forget it's there I'm so busy. I'm shocked the cat hasn't batted away and lost half the pieces."

"I just don't know what use a doll of that size can be," says the first voice. "And with rent coming up tomorrow…hmm?" She's interrupted by a clanking noise. "Yes Duckie?"

"Mistress, supper is served," says a new, eerily flat voice.

"Well, never mind. Put that down, come eat."

"I'll be right there," says the one holding it, as the other one leaves. She adds a tiny detail to the left ear, and then the right. Satisfied, she carries that one back to the desk—one, two, three, four gentle footsteps—saying "Its use? Its purpose? Only to be loved, only to be loved, and to love me in return." A finger runs along that one's new head, over its new ears, and she hums, gentle and satisfied.

The entity that is not yet a doll finds it can mark the days now. Voices say things like "Good morning," "time for dinner," "it's late, come to bed." Gathers that the one who holds it is a witch named Felicity, beloved Felicity. The other is her partner Leticia. They run a shop together, New and Used Dolls, Drones, and Puppets—Felicity carves them new out of wood; Leticia scouts out used ones to refurbish and sell. Two dolls live with them, a wood doll of Felicity's, Fifi, who scrapes a broom across the floor a few times a day, and Duckie, a refurbed bot, who calls them for dinner. Finally, there is the cat, with the plaintive voice, and the sweet, gentle purr. The entity can feel it jump on the desk and settle next to it and start purring. This means they are friends.

Days pass and sometimes it feels its witch's hand on its form, sometimes she picks it up, fiddles with it, attaches a limb. One afternoon when the shop is dead she steals a whole hour and manages to affix its head onto its neck. She swivels it back and forth and all the way around, pleased with the smooth movement. Then Leticia comes in. Her voice almost sounds hurt. "Weren't you going to help me with that refurb? I thought—"

"Ohh…" Felicity sets her project back down, almost ungently. "Sorry, I thought… Sorry." She leaps up. "Yeah we can do that now."

The entity that is not yet a doll feels so close. Its head is attached. Its limbs are attached. From the conversation it has heard in the shop, it believes it still lacks things called eyes, a mouth, clothing, hair. If it is to be a marionette, it will need strings. Felicity will get to it, someday. It knows she will. It can't wait for the next moment she has time to pick it up, run her hand along its back. It thinks about that every few moments.

Seasons change. Hair is installed, in phases. A painful process where holes are drilled into the top of its head. "I don't remember what my original vision was, anymore," Felicity mutters. Her voice has changed, somehow. The texture of her fingers. A new person lives in the house with them. A child. The child's voice is beautiful.

"What's that, Mommy?" the entity, still not a doll, can hear it ask.

"Oh, it's a work in progress," says beloved Felicity. "Your mama gave me that beautiful wood, just enough for a small doll."

"A little dolly like that would be just the right size for, you know, a little girl."

"Are you trying to hint something, darling?" the witch says, laughing. "Maybe I teach you to make your own, hmm?"

The entity hears the child shriek with joy as the witch scoops it up and carries it away. It feels an ache, a knot in its chest.

Months pass. Sometimes the child picks it up, unfinished as it is, and carries it around the room. Puts it on the cat and laughs as the cat gets up and it falls to the ground. Pours it tea—which smells divine. (It received a nose at some point.) Reads to it from its picture books. Helpfully describes the pictures to it since it doesn't have eyes. Felicity walks in on this one day. "No!" she cries, snatching the not doll away. "No, no, no, Alice, you mustn't touch that… it's Mommy's. It's mine." She presses it to her bosom, her hands shaking. That one feels so warm, shivery almost. It feels a sob in Felicity's chest.

"Sorry, Mommy," Alice says, ashamed. "I thought…"

"You have your own dolls, don't you? Beautiful dolls, so many beautiful dolls. This is all Mommy has. Don't you understand? I'm sorry for getting upset. It's just, this is Mommy's special doll."

"B-b-but…" Alice starts to wail. Mommy puts the doll down, hastily, on the desk, and goes to comfort her.

"Look, darling," Mommy says.

"You haven't touched it in months," the child wails, "so I thought I could play with it. It's probably lonely. Don't you think it's lonely?"

The Doll hardly notices as Alice lashes out at Felicity and Felicity weeps. It hardly cares that it's alone on the desk again, still without eyes, a mouth, a single stitch of clothing, the ability to move. For what is a doll? For some it is an entity that will carry out orders, cook or clean, fight for one's cause. But for this one, it is to be loved, to be loved, and to love in return. It is a Doll.

For the next several years, Felicity only manages to paint a single eye (muttering "doesn't look quite right, does it") but that is enough for the Doll to finally see the faces of its family, Alice, the distant Leticia, Ducky, and Fifi. And the wonderful Felicity so beautiful but oh! so frail, so delicate compared to the others. She hardly works with any wood anymore. Something to do with her health. She spends more and more time upstairs, where the Doll has never been. Alice is learning the trade. She prefers making dolls with cloth. She prefers working with the refurbs. She sews that one some clothes in her spare time, along with an even smaller doll to keep it company. The cat, an old lady by now, steals it, though. Then one day, Felicity is carried downstairs and out the door. The Doll never sees her or hears her voice again. Months later, Leticia comes to clean off the desk and throw things away. She comes across the Doll, and touching it for the first time begins to weep.

End.

(inspired by @absentwriterdoll's Work-In-Progress and glitch's Resin)

[benz12313]

Surface Tension Ch.2 - Ridoc x OC!Doll

|Images are not mine|

Description: Despite wanting to be anywhere but the rider's quadrant, Daisy Jenkins loves her family, and so begrudgingly, she volunteers herself to go and throw herself to the mercy of dragons. She struggles with her confidence, but will a certain man with a penchant for mischief and a flirtatious attitude show her that she doesn't have to hide? That she too has a voice that can and should be heard? Will she be bold enough to claim him as her own? Or will she let him slip through her fingers, forever just out of reach? {Slow Burn/Mated Dragons/Friends to Lovers}

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 2,030

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Two - Forming Bonds

I watched each candidate after me become a cadet, with my back to the pillar behind me. I scanned the crowd, silent, watching, and silently begging that this would all be over soon. The adrenaline crash after all the excitement on the parapet was leaving me tired, and it wasn’t even over yet. We still have to be assigned squads, eat dinner, and settle into the barracks; where mom said we’d be separated by sex, and then be stuffed in the a room of bunks in rows. 

Don’t run. 

It was the only thing they would say about forming squads, but based on my mother’s dark chuckle when she’d said it… Yeah, there was no doubt in my mind that it wasn’t as simple as they’d advised.

Don’t run. 

I scanned over the crowd. An hour had passed, the Basgiath bells marking the hour just a few minutes ago. I wish I could just slip into bed now. The armor my father had forged using his metal wielding signet wasn’t foreign to me. I’d been training with the newly formed corset for months now, but it was wearing on me. I couldn’t wait to sit, the thing got fucking heavy after a while. Taking it off would be impossible other than when showering until after threshing, when we were assigned our own dorms and safety while sleeping was nearly guaranteed. 

Just because it’s against the codex to attack a rider while they sleep, doesn’t mean that some don’t have the balls to do it anyway. 

It wasn’t much longer until the three upperclassmen that had been on the other side of the parapet crossed, and I knew we were done. Every cadet standing in the courtyard now, were the ones who had made it. Who got to live through their first day. I couldn’t help but notice the significant size difference from when we’d waited below, before we ever even stepped foot on a single stair. How many of us have died?

The girl from the parapet pushed through my mind, and I flinched. I’d done good ignoring those thoughts since we’d made it to the courtyard, since Ridoc Gamlyn had disappeared into the crowd. I let my lip tremble for a second before shoving it into the darkest corners of my mind, and shutting the door. No time for softness now. Not here. Not when I wasn’t the only one off to the side, scanning the crowd, watching for strength and weakness. The red-haired monster from before was across the courtyard, towering over most of the rest of us first-years, and scanning the crowd, just as I was. 

His mere existence seemed to shove me closer to that dangerous zone of fight or flight with every second. Everything about him set me on edge, something rubbing me wrong with his silence, that menacing aura he exuded. In my experience, which was admittedly narrow based on the fact that I come from a small mountain village of barely 100 people; bullies are usually loud, boisterous, and trying to be the biggest person in the room. This man was quiet, calculating, and…well he’s still the biggest person in the room. His entire demeanor set me on edge, and I knew with certainty; I wouldn’t be ignoring him anytime soon. In fact, I was certain he would star in a few of my nightmares after his display on the parapet. 

The Commandant stepped forward and I sighed, stepping forward and facing the dais just like every other cadet in the courtyard. Even the second and third years were at attention. He congratulated the 301 of us that survived, but my heart lurched when he said that 67 of us did not make it. 67 people died today. I knew the crowd had looked smaller, but so many of us just…gone. Swallowed by the rain, poor balance, and…other cadets. My eyes burned and I cursed myself for my weakness. My weak heart would be the death of me here if I didn’t learn how to keep it in check. 

He went on, talking about our future, being intimidating as hell, and subtly warning us of the dangers. Introducing the teachers, and then finishing with a threat to not make us his problem. Great. 

Nyra, who was apparently senior wingleader of the quadrant, started talking, and sorting us into squads. I was sorted into 2nd Squad, Flame Section, Second Wing, along with two other girls who looked thick as thieves already. One with ombre hair, the ends silver and was my height, no more than an inch of difference. Sorrengail. She’d made a spectacle of herself apparently. Enough so that when I’d made it across, people were still talking about her confrontation with another cadet. The girl next to her was a bit taller than me and Sorrengail, with deep brown skin, and several rows of braids all pinned back. They whispered in front of me, Sorrengail muttering facts to the other girl, and I intently listened. Any info is good info. 

Then Ridoc was called to our squad, and he slipped into line on my right. He gave me a side-eyed look, massive grin on his face, and then he fucking winked, making me fight the blush rising, again. Damn idiotic handsome face of his. 

“Wow, must be fate Doll.” He teased, and I rolled my eyes, staying quiet as they finished making squads. “C’mon you know you missed me.” I breathed an irritated sigh before I noticed Sorrengail stiffen. Eyes scanning the dais I noticed the wingleaders arguing over something. But then we were moved to Fourth Wing and if the terrifying yet somehow sexual smirk our new wingleader was sending directly at Sorrengail in front of me was anything to go by, it was definitely to do with her. Well shit. 

“They need a room.” I muttered quiet enough that only Ridoc could hear and he damn near choked himself trying to suppress a chuckle. I turned red. Why the hell did I say that?? Maybe Ridoc was rubbing off on me. Either way I’m fucking mortified I said that out loud. 

The wingleader started a surprisingly charismatic speech, that was obviously a setup to something else. Don’t run. The sentence coursed threw me as I heard the familiar sound of wing beats.

I didn’t see my parents dragons often, but when you live in a generally quiet place the sound is easily recognizable.  

Eight fucking dragons land on the wall, chunks of stone falling. “Don’t run.” I mutter, fear coursing through me for just a moment before I locked my body down. I got as stiff as I could so my body wouldn’t betray me and move on its own. I notice Ridoc twitch next to me and a new fear courses through me. My hand flies before I can stop it, gripping his wrist tightly and his eyes fly to mine. “Don’t run, my parents said don’t run.” I whisper and he nods as my fingers tighten, pressing harder into his skin. I look forward again. “Don’t run. Don’t run. Don’t run.” I mutter like a fucking mantra that will somehow keep me alive. 

Three run. Three piles of ash remain.

The smell of sulfur stings my nose. My heart hammers in my chest, but I don’t flinch. I stand. I stare at no dragon in particular, sure not to meet one’s gaze. They were beautiful though, every single one of them. I had always loved dragons, even if the riders weren’t my ideal choice in quadrants. They were powerful, majestic, and so..fucking..huge. Being able to mount one was definitely going to be a challenge. Not impossible though. 

I barely heard our wingleader as he continued to speak. All I could do was watch the dragons; their serpentine movements, their silent authority. Fear was still there, gripping me as tightly as I was gripping Ridoc, who had finally been shut up. Even he had the sense to stay quiet in the presence of the dragons. 

Only when the dragons disappeared, and our squad leaders (ours being Dain Aetos, a stern guy who seemed very…strict, but somehow more than strict) started leading us to the cafeteria did I let go of Ridoc. I was a bit too shaken, and frankly much too tired to be embarrassed I’d held him that long. He didn’t say anything, just shooting me a playful grin, much to my surprise. Maybe he was just as shaken as I was. I don’t think he’d ever admit that though. 

Throughout dinner I was silent, listening to the others introduce themselves, none of them really going into extreme detail. Guess it’s not surprising that none of us trust each other yet. 

“And you.” Aetos turns to me, and I gulp. 

“Ugh, Daisy Jenkins.” I say simply and Sorrengail, Violet, perks up from my right. You can see the equations in her eyes as she thinks on my name. 

“As in Mikael Jenkins, famous metal wielding rider?” She asked and the others eyes widened and I nodded, cheeks surely going pink. 

“He helps forge a lot of Navarre’s weapons, and ugh, armor too. But weapons are easier for him to mass produce.” That’s why we lived in the mountains to begin with. Plenty of metal to forge. Also why he had been allowed an early retirement. 

“Badass Doll.” Ridoc says, sending me a wink from where he sat across the table from me, boredly pushing back on his chair. He only grinned wider when I looked away. 

Aetos moved on, until he gave us directions to head to our rooms. Warning us to make sure and get plenty of rest, wakeup is at 6, which frankly is just cruel. Mornings have never been my forte.

I was nearly there, just behind Rhiannon and Violet, when Ridoc grabbed my arm and pulled me to a side hallway. After inspecting if we were alone or not, and coming to the conclusion that we were, he turned his attention to me, making me nervously grab the straps of my small pack. 

His eyes were playful, but heated, and focused directly on me, making me entirely too self conscious. This was different than the looks before, more intense and focused. Like every ounce of his attention was focused entirely on me. There was no fighting it now, from my neck up felt like it was on fire. His eyes narrowed and he grinned wide, voice dropping low. 

“Hey Doll,” He wasn’t even touching me now, hands moving to sit casually in his pockets, but he might as well have been caging me in place the way my body felt like it was frozen. 

“Hey Ridoc,” I squeaked out, and his smile softened a bit. Still ever playful though. 

“Was wondering…well figured I’d ask you if wanted to find a empty room and celebrate still being alive with me.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at me and I gulped.

“Ugh-“ I started, and something flashed in his eyes, gone faster than I could identify what it was. 

“Don’t feel bad if it’s a no though, not too late for me to find someone else.” He added and my stomach sank. Why did that not feel right? There was no way I actually wanted to sleep with someone I just met, right? 

“Um, we probably shouldn’t. Being squad mates and all?” It sounded more like a question than anything else, but he nodded, still grinning. Just…it felt colder now, despite his face not having changed at all. 

“Right, no worries Doll. Go on, I’ll see ya in the morning yeah?” I backed away, feeling a bit sick to my stomach, though I couldn’t rightly place why. That’s what I wanted right? To curl up in bed and let myself relax for the first time all day. Why did his eyes look like they'd lost their life? And why did that bother me more than anything else?

“Yeah.” It was practically a whisper. “See you in the morning.” He nodded and I turned, leaving him in the abandoned hallway. Why do I feel like that was a mistake?

Author's Note: Thank you to all that have showed the first chapter some love! It's definitely been fun getting back into posting. Just wanted to say that I've started two taglists; one for this story and one for all my Ridoc fics from here on out, including this story. If you'd like to be added to either just let me know which one! Thank you again for reading! :)

@xadenswhore @jinx108

[retiredteabag]

sorry for informality but i was stalking reading your pinned post and you’re in grad school at twenty!??!!!

unless i’m tripping or misunderstanding something, academic weapon tips please because holy shit that’s insane! what’s ur field of study if you want to talk about it/don’t mind me asking? any application tips/things you wished you knew before getting there/habits you wished you’d formed sooner? independent research has always been difficult for me because of how much i depend on structure (adhd imposter syndrome anxiety lets go) so if you’re working on a thesis/something similar, how has the process been in your experience?

i’m in undergrad atm and heavily debating going further, so i’d love to hear from someone my age who’s actually doing it! also unrelated, but i’m a certified notion/goodnotes girlie if you vibe with those as study resources!

🎸 tagging with an emoji in case i pop back around, yk?

I'm sorry to say, but my tips might come off as sort of typical... but I hope they're at least a little helpful!

I am currently in a masters program within the analytics field. Research/independent studies vary widely depending on the area of specialization, however, my program has an intensive practicum that is similar in nature. I have not started it yet, but what I can say for sure when it comes to research: make sure you are picking a topic that you could speak about for hours/answer argumentative questions about.

For applications, I would say to narrow your options down as much as possible and look into each program before applying. Know the curriculum and standard outline and what stands out to you as you decide.

^ on this same note, you will likely need at least one interview in the application process. Speak slowly and enunciate. Taking a moment to think of the proper words will always be better than speaking quickly without much thought. Most people say to use "down-speak" in these interviews, but in my experience, matching the examiners tone and energy makes the whole thing much more comfortable.

For study tips, I have a large notebook that I keep on my desk where I write down every assignment and the date that it is due. This is just for organization purposes, I find a physical copy helpful for a few reasons but also because crossing them off feels rewarding :]

Time managment is incredibly important. Everyone says this because it is true. Prep everything, organizing your day into chunks. Since you also like structure, this probably wont be an issue. I would also get comfortable with being self-aware of your priorities. There will come a time when you will need to choose between academics/work and other areas of your life.

Keep your spaces clean. Dedicate a day or so to just organizing/doing a deep clean. It will help you stay focused and minimize external anxiety. It’s also much easier to keep a place clean if you have put in such an effort.

Participate in class. I cannot make this clear enough. I promise it is not embarrassing to ask questions or "try". You will learn far easier if you put effort into the classroom/lecture setting.

It is a pretty typical "tip" is to just ask questions. Even if you feel like you might understand, just ask to make sure. And in this same vein, go to office hours if you need to.

Prioritize sleep lol, that and mental rest. You can't always be studying. For me, it is a real challenge to work and be full time in school so it's important to carve out those sections of "you time".

Try not to be on your phone tooooooooo much, I know it’s hard but I make an effort to not be on my phone while eating. Don’t use entertainment as a distraction, I find that it just delays anxiety :(

Lastly, apply for scholarships and know that you absolutely can appeal for more money.

I hope this was useful. Do know that it REALLY depends on your area of study and 5-year-plan. I would recommend not going to grad school unless you're absolutely sure it is worth it.

Good luck!

[arvensimp]

Reader with a hydrapple or any of the applin evolutions and Arven gets confused and reader has to stop him from eating the Pokémon please I will like explode

Friend, you have a hilarious mind, but also I'm so sorry I'm being kind of a stickler here. The applin line is one of my favorites, and I keep an appletun on my team because I love it so much.

Applin appear naturally in Paldea. The only unfamiliar evolutions would be Dipplin and Hydrapple, and the latter has an average height of almost 6 feet and weigh over 200lbs, so the only way I could see something like this happening is like.

-

You return from Kitakami after enjoying the summer festival, and you're super rested and relaxed and happy to be back home with your other friends. You brought your Applin with you on the trip, a new member to your team. Before you'd left, you'd mentioned in passing to the gang that you weren't sure what sort of apple to provide it for an evolution.

Because of that, when the group is all together for a picnic lunch and everyone releases all their Pokemon at once (that's 24 pokemon, plus Raidon, if Penny and Nemona join you and Arven), it isn't surprising that a little guy like Dipplin blends in with the crowd. Applin did, after all! He was always on the smaller side as a baby, anyway.

You set out a whole bunch of different treats from Kitakami on the table to share with everyone. Candies and snacks that travel well, that sort of thing. Meanwhile Arven is prepping proper food for you all. Or, at least some sandwiches that are a bit more filling and healthful than the mouth watering, but not very nutritious, snacks.

Thing is, he didn't sleep well last night. And he might've skipped breakfast. So he's tired and hungry.

Who could blame him if he grabs a quick nibble of a snack while working on everyone's food? Besides, candy apples are super tasty...

But candy apples also don't hiss when one bites them.

Arven yelps and drops the treat (?) while Dipplin skitters away, royally pissed off. The commotion is enough to draw everyone's attention back to the table.

"What was that?!" Arven grouses, spitting out onto the grass whatever apple (?) candy (?) remnants (???) he got into his mouth.

You can't help but laugh as you drag Dipplin out from his hiding place under the picnic table. The pokemon is about as thrilled with what just happened as Arven is. It's kind of plain to see that the poor thing is a pokemon and not food, especially with it wriggling and squirming unhappily in your hands.

"Aww, you spooked him!" You chuckle, shifting to cradle the creature in your arms.

"I spooked him? I almost had a heart attack!" At this point, Mabosstiff has sidled up to his master, looking up at him pityingly. "What is that anyway? I've never seen an Applin look quite like that."

It's at that point that you re-introduce your evolved pokemon to the gang, explaining that applin have a regional evolution in Kitakami. Everyone is cheerful and congratulatory to the little guy, save for Arven, who still feels kind of sour about his mistake. It doesn't help that Nemona and Penny both mercilessly tease him.

Still, it doesn't escape your notice that later on that evening, after everyone has wound down and was a bit more relaxed, that Arven was sitting at the picnic table, talking softly to Dipplin, offering the pokemon leftovers from his hand. You don't really feel much like eavesdropping, but it seems to be about as good an apology as Arven could give, and Dipplin seems happy to let bygones be bygones.

[rarepairdumpster]

Rival Kingdoms AU Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: King Silco, Prince Viktor, House Arrest, Pining, Acts of Service, Silco is trying okay

The next day, when Silco goes to bring Viktor his dinner, he's amused but not surprised to hear that Viktor is in the library. 

He takes dinner to the library then, and sees Viktor curled up in a plush armchair, nose buried in a book. He startles Viktor a little when he sets the tray down on one of the research tables, causing Viktor to set the book aside for a moment.

"Did you lose track of time?" Silco asks.

"No," Viktor answers stubbornly, eyes narrowing in a glare. "I would just rather be here than in that room."

"I will need you to return soon," Silco replied. "When you finish eating perhaps."

"I didn't realize I had a curfew," Viktor scoffs.

"I don't want to have to impose one."

Viktor purses his lips and looks away, but tugs his tray closer.

"Do you enjoy pissing me off?"

"I enjoy a lot of things about you," Silco answers easily, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. "Would you like me to list them?"

Viktor rolls his eyes and starts to cut up his meat. "Please contain yourself."

Silco doesn't move as he watches Viktor eat, waiting a moment to hear Viktor's usual biting dismissal, but it doesn't come. "If you insist."

Silco takes an odd pleasure from watching Viktor dine. His fingers are so graceful and elegant. His lips are a temptation with each gentle slide along thin metal. His furrowed brow is distracting.

Viktor is so wrapped up in thinking about what he was reading that he barely registers that Silco hasn't left. He supposes it isn't so bad, even if he can feel Silco's admiring gaze on him. If he's really honest, it feels quite nice.

Silco would give whatever Viktor asked for, if it meant he could reach out and tuck that single loose lock of hair behind that delicate curve of an ear.

When Viktor finishes, he dabs at the corners of his mouth and places his napkin on top of the plate. 

"I'd like to grab some books before I go, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Silco answers, straightening. "Allow me to help, Your Highness. Which ones would you like?"

Viktor raises an eyebrow. 

"Well, I suppose with your help I can bring a few more." He lets the corner of his mouth twist up a little as he stands. 

"I've started a pile," Viktor explains, grabbing his cane and walking over to several stacks of books nearly as tall as the table they were next to. "I'd like to change out all the ones in my bedroom, seeing as the selection has gotten stale as of late."

"As you wish." Silco squats like he isn't even close to a 50 yo man and heaves one of the stacks up, grunting only slightly with the effort. "I can come back for the rest."

Viktor can't help scowling at the able-bodied display; it felt like Silco was rubbing his face in his weaknesses.

Viktor is tempted to tell him to forget about grabbing the others, but he really would like those books and he'd prefer not to come all the way to the library to get them.

Silco is 100% aware that his back and legs will dislike him later; it was a good thing he'd grown up training to carry the full weight of his armour, weapons, and pack cross-country. That training alone made this feat possible to accomplish.

But he is glad to be of service to his future husband.

Viktor is actually pretty tired by the time they return to his room, and he sits on his bed almost immediately. He doesn't dare tell Silco that he's actually pretty grateful that he had offered to bring the stacks.

Silco can see the exhaustion though. He knows his love better than Viktor thinks. Silco just bows slightly, excuses himself and heads back to the library to retrieve the next stack.

By the time he returns, Viktor is asleep, just sprawled across his bed, still in his clothes. 

Silco continues to deliver the stacks in silence and before he leaves for the night, he shrugs out of his coat and drapes it over Viktor without otherwise disturbing him.

(He doesn't want Viktor accusing him of taking liberties, after all)

Viktor wakes in the morning with his hand curling around the hem of something that was a bit stiffer than his duvet. He pulls it up to cover his cold nose and oh

Viktor's eyes snap open at the musky scent that overwhelms his senses. With a start, he eases himself up with one arm and holds out the coat. Silco's coat.

Viktor doesn't know how to feel. 

Angry, perhaps.

Offended.

Confused.

Appreciative? 

No, he shouldn't feel that one.

Doesn't.

Doesn't feel it.

Viktor tosses the coat aside and looks around the chamber, almost expecting Silco to be watching, waiting to pounce.

But Silco isn't there.

Just the stacks of books that Silco had carried for him.

Viktor has to distract himself, he decides, and gets out of bed, hobbling towards the stacks of books, hoping to drive Silco out of his mind.

Meanwhile, Silco is distracted all day, between the lingering aches from his efforts, and the sweet recollection of Viktor curling into his coat in his sleep, like a treasured lover

When Silco arrives to deliver dinner that evening, Viktor shoves the coat at him like its a chore, but Silco sees the faintest blush across his sharp cheekbones.

"Thank you," Viktor sighs. "For the books, that is. I mean, they're my books but, regardless..."

Silco smirks, but doesn't voice the ours that teases at the edge of his tongue. 

"It was my pleasure," Silco says instead, folding his coat carefully.

Viktor decides to not bother dismissing Silco before he eats, and sits down with a book propped up so he can continue to read as he eats. He supposed if Silco wanted to watch him eat, it was harmless. Food didn't guarantee conversion, after all.

Silco settles himself in a chair uninvited, but a comfortable distance away, and Viktor glances at him only briefly.

Silco leans back in the chair, crosses his legs, and just takes his fill of Viktor while he can. 

Viktor seemed to grow more and more beautiful each day, though Silco knew that was ridiculous.

Arch + Woods

[icewindandboringhorror]

Pages from trying to keep a little sketchbook-scrapbook type thing going for two weeks lol. I gave myself specific rules in hopes they might all end up more cohesive/consistent seeming, but alas, scribbly chaos reigns, it seems

[alongtidesoflight]

i swear my stepdad is so illogical AND stubborn it hurts

[lupismaris]

..

[thehardkandy]

I have now made it to six weeks, I think, of my daily mini workouts. Unfortunately doing it this consistently has in fact not made it any easier in the slightest. In honesty, it is harder because I do not have the momentum of the initial change. I am still going though

In reality too I probably have 2-3 weeks left at most that I will do, because after that I will no longer be home alone in the apartment. Still will have been worth doing I hope, so that I can do it easier when I eventually have the space long term

[slutforsidewalks]

I don't care about the long-term negative effects of chronic stress, I care about the short term one of all my dreams being horrendous and bad and full of situations that I can't win

[thebirdandhersong]

I have two godsons now apparently 😂