#so many of these dishes sound great

[marlinspirkhall]

Nanaimo bars have been on my to-bake list for two years now, I had no idea they were a Canadian thing, I just found them in my cook book during lockdown and thought they looked neat.

[asinglesock]

unemployment arc update

[cheriladycl01]

Kinktober 18/10/2024 Max Verstappen - Mutual Masturbation

Plot: You and Max too tired to actually do anything, decide that mutual masturbation is the way to go after a tricky race weekend.

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, mutual masturbation, fingering, handjob, 18+ Minors DNI

You and Max were a very clingy couple, it was rarer to see you not at a race weekend than to see you at one. You were always there supporting Max and cheering him on, and for the most part you guys had loads of energy interacting with fans and being helpful to the team.

However triple-headers normally took it out of you both, especially ones where it was far travel in between and maybe some time zone difference.

But you always supported Max.

You were there though his highest highs and his lowest lows and that just so happened to be today. A very low low. It was Max worst performance in his career. There wasn’t great communication, the car didn’t feel right and Max had struggled the whole race, not moving up any places from his Qualifying Result of P11.

He’d gotten no points, and ended up behind Yuki Tsunoda who’d defended from him brilliantly for the entire race.

When Max came out, after driving the car for 2 hours and all of the media commitments and team jobs he had to conduct afterwards you both got on his private jet pretty done with the day.

You got home to Monaco, and you were both really silent which was kinda rare for Max. Despite what most people think this man can talk for hours, especially to you when you are such a good listening and love the sound of his husky and burnt sort of voice when he spoke both English and Dutch.

You guys had a routine that was never changed no matter how tired you guys were once you got back from a race weekend.

Step one: Get the cases into the house.

Step two Part A: Max separates clean from dirty into piles

Step two Part B: You take the shoes and toiletries and dish them out to where they need to go.

Step three Part A: Max puts a wash on

Step three Part B: You take the clean clothes up and hang them in the wardrobe or fold into draws.

Step four Part A: Max hoovers, Jimmy and Sassy, and then your British Shorthair Lila have all been there moulting in the summer heat.

Step four Part B: You wash out the cat bowls and place down new food

Step five: Make dinner together

And that was how you always did it. You always each took those chores and got on with them. Usually you spoke to each other across the apartment while you were doing it but this time a comfortable silence was with you apart from the cat interruptions every now and then.

After that you guys let the dishes in the sink before alternating showering and getting ready for bed. You both climbed into the fresh bed with the nice sheets rather than the hotel sheets that regardless of the hotel rating always seemed to make you feel kind of odd.

Usually at this stage Max would turn on a film before fucking you into the bed, you clutching into the pillow that your face is smushed against while he thrusts in and out of you deeply.

But tonight with how silent the pair of you were it was obvious neither of you had the energy to fully commit to that.

“Schatz…” he says softly and you look away from the film he’d just put on opposite you bed, a classic you’d watched many times that was sort of just background noise.

“Mmmmmm? What is it?” You smile at him kindly, pulling the quilt up around you some more.

“Well, I just thought that maybe we could relieve some tension” he says still just as softly, a quiet hint to his voice. You almost groan not having the energy to get in top and ride him, which usually happened after these race weekends as his legs, back and arms were physically just as tired as his mind was.

“Argh baby not tonight … I know usually I’m more energetic but I can’t tonight” you say looking at him with a guilty look and he turns away with a flushed and embarrassed look on his face.

“Oh- okay” he says nodding and tucking the cover over him.

You guys sit and watch the film, you lean into him his arm loosely coming behind you as you naturally pulls yourself in closer to him. After the day of silence it was nice just embracing one another in bed.

“Hey I’m sorry I just have no energy tonight it’s not you” you say reaching out to hold his hand that’s above the blanket but knock against something hard causing him to moan out.

You lightly pull the covers away seeing him rock solid underneath. He tries to pull the covers back up, but your grip is strong.

“Max baby why didn’t you say” you try to stifle your laugh.

“Because your not in the mood and we’re both too tired” he sighs pressing his legs together and trying to alleviate the growing need down low.

“How about something else baby, it won’t take up too much energy from either of us” you whisper helping him pull his boxers down seeing his whole dick spring up and slap his bear stomach. He moans as the cold air hits him and you use your hand going up and down.

“Ah ah ah” he moans.

“Now you take over baby” you say and he does taking himself in his hand. Your hand goes into your underwear teasing your clit the way you knew you liked. Your fingers rub against that nub and you moan.

“Fuck Max” you moan and look to your left to look at him only to see him already looking at you. His eyes travel from your eyes down to where your fingers enter your dripping wet core.

You reach out a hand as you hear the fapping sound that Max is making with his fist tightening around his length and going quicker the more you moan.

“So pretty Schatz, fuck lemme see pull them panties off” he groans and you do as your told pulling them off and chucking them to the end of the bed. You spread your legs show Max your fingers thrusting in and out, a scissoring motion as you feel the spongey wall. You free hand reaches out gripping Max thighs as your mouth drops open, you repeating his name as you can feel the coil build up further and further.

His free hand reaches down and starts to rub circles on your clit as he tightens his grip on his own dick going faster than before.

“Fuck Schatz, such a good idea” he moans as before you know it he’s cumming, the stream hitting his lower stomach as his hips lightly lurch up. You cum shortly after him, the release making you relax back into the pillows.

“I think that should be our new go too” he groans, taking tissue from the bedside table cleaning himself up.

“When we’re tired?” You ask with a nod.

“Whenever, that was really hot” he smiles before pulling you into a kiss.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[pseudophan]

PHANNIE COOKBOOK SIGN-UPS!!

Do you have a really good recipe you think Dan and Phil would enjoy? Consider submitting it to this collaborative phannie cookbook that will be given to DnP at a meet & greet! It will also be available to everyone to download as a PDF.

Family recipes or your favourite dish from your country/culture is a bonus, but it doesn’t have to be that personal. All I ask is that you don’t go rip something random off the Internet right now just to be in the book, I want food you genuinely enjoy!

I’ve decided the most efficient way of doing this is to let you submit up to 3 different options, that way if there are any repeats (and I’m certain there will be) I won’t have to message everyone it concerns to ask if you have any alternatives. Besides, that way I can choose which version gets in based on your other options rather than which one “sounds better” to me, cause I think that would be a little unfair. I also have no idea how many people will actually participate in this yet, which is currently the biggest hurdle in terms of planning. If only a few sign up there is a chance we’ll end up using multiple recipes by some, and if somehow we get too many I’ll have to pick and choose. I do really want to include as many people as possible, but until I actually see the recipes it’s hard to tell what will end up happening.

The main focus of this will be actual food, but we obviously need to include a few desserts, so feel free to submit those as well just be aware the chances of those getting picked might be lower. The same goes for soups, I assume a lot of people have soup recipes and we might include a couple, but for obvious reasons it's a low priority.

Some key things to keep in mind:

Phil is a bit picky and has some dietary restrictions! He shouldn’t have dairy or chocolate and he doesn’t like cheese or mushrooms, among other things. That doesn’t mean you have to avoid these things entirely, but maybe your grandma’s mac and cheese recipe isn’t the best choice

While neither of them is vegan they do eat a lot of vegan food, so we definitely need some vegan dishes. I also think it would be really great if you suggested vegetarian and/or vegan substitutions you know work well with your recipe! That isn’t a must for every dish, but it’s a nice addition where possible

Tragically, Dan and Phil are British, meaning they won’t necessarily have access to all the same ingredients as you. Luckily they are also rich and live in a major city with a lot of options so they aren’t limited to what they can find at their local Tesco, but since the aim of this book is to encourage them to cook we probably shouldn’t be sending them on a scavenger hunt either. I don’t think this will be a huge issue, but if your recipe calls for something you think might be very niche or local to you it might be worth googling it or asking around

The final book will be using UK measurements, but if your recipe doesn’t then don’t even worry about it for now. We’ll get to that later. You also don’t have to worry about typing out the whole step-by-step in detail in the sign-up form, I just need a list of the ingredients and roughly how to prepare it to gauge whether it’s a good fit.

I promise I’m almost done yapping but lastly, about some of the questions on the form - you don’t need to know exactly how long the dish takes to prepare, that will depend on the person or people making it anyway, but we do need a rough estimate. The difficulty level is obviously quite subjective, but I just want to hear how you personally would rank it, and if there is a specific part of the process you think someone who doesn’t cook a lot might struggle with. As for the last question about photos, I’m asking both if you have the time and opportunity to make the food and if you are able to take a good photo of it. Obviously it doesn’t have to be anything professional, a phone camera is fine, it just needs to be well lit and decent quality.

Okay, I think that’s everything-

Here's the sign-up form

The deadline is in a week, at midnight Thursday to Friday CET :)

(I also made a blog for this @phookbook for information and updates! A lot of it will probably still be on this blog, but I'll try to post/reblog the most important things on there for those who want to keep up with everything but who may not want to deal with all the chaos of pseudophan)

[strwbwrrybunny]

𝒫𝐸𝐸𝒫𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝒯𝒪𝑀—ryomen sukuna

─── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ──

mdni,18+

you peel your tired eyes open, blinking a couple times to adjust to the darkness. a soft yawn escapes your lips as your hands roam the plush queen-sized bed, finally finding your phone. you click it on, the bright light brutal against your eyes, and you hiss, cursing softly. 3:39 am. you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, it’s three in the morning and he’s been at it for hours.

"seriously, sukuna?" you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper as you roll over, trying to muffle the sounds with your pillow. it’s no use. the shrill voice of the unknown woman echoes through the thin walls, her cries of "oh,sukuna!" piercing the night. you groan, pulling the pillow tighter around your head, but it does little to drown out the noise.

you never thought you'd be living with a man twice your age. but,the cost of living was getting out of hand, and you didn't have the luxury of having parents who handed everything to you on a silver platter. not to mention most of your checks went towards tuition, most? who were you kidding. all, your checks went towards tuition.

you think back to when you first moved in, how skeptical you had been. the ad on craigslist had seemed too good to be true. a large room in a nice apartment for a price you could actually afford? it had to be a scam. but when you met sukuna, all your doubts vanished. he was extremely nice, clean, and, let’s face it, fucking sexy. the entire time he’d shown you the apartment, you couldn’t help but eye-fuck him, your mind wandering to places it probably shouldn’t have.

he’d insisted on helping you move all your belongings in, not that you had many, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. "just relax," he’d said with that charming smile of his. "i’ll take care of everything." handsome and a gentleman.

you couldn’t believe your luck.

four months had passed since then, and living with sukuna had been amazing. he was a great cook, often whipping up dishes you couldn’t even pronounce. he was always offering to buy you things while he ran errands—chipotle, candles, and once even a hello kitty plushie because he knew you liked those. it was like living with the perfect older brother, if older brothers were drop-dead gorgeous and incredibly thoughtful.

but then there were the nights like this. the nights when sukuna brought women home, and you were left trying to sleep through the symphony of passion coming from his room. you weren’t the jealous type, but hearing those screeches of sukuna’s name all night until the early morning was such a damn nuisance. you always wondered if his dick was really that good; it had to be, the way these women moaned his name.

"ugh," you groan, sitting up in bed and rubbing your eyes. there’s no way you’re getting any sleep now. you grab a hoodie and pull it on, deciding to head to the kitchen for a glass of juice.maybe the cool liquid will help calm your frayed nerves.

as you tiptoe down the hallway, you can still hear them, the sounds of their lovemaking echoing through the house. you shake your head, a mix of frustration and curiosity swirling in your mind. reaching the kitchen, you fill a glass with orange juice and take a long sip, the coolness soothing your dry throat.

just as you’re about to head back to your room, the noise stops. the sudden silence is almost deafening, and you pause, wondering if it’s really over. you sigh in relief, hoping that maybe now you can get some sleep.you hear footsteps behind you.

"couldn’t sleep?" sukuna’s deep voice startles you, and you turn to see him standing in the doorway, shirtless and looking way too good for someone who’s just been... busy. his inked toned body glistens with sweat, pink hair pulled to the back. he’s wearing a pair of red checkered pajama pants that hang dangerously low on his hips, so low you could practically trace his v line that led to a small patch of pubic hair.god, he looks so fucking sexy.you notice you’re staring and cough sheepishly.

you shrug, trying to play it cool. "yeah, something like that."

he steps closer, a smirk playing on his lips. "sorry about the noise. i didn’t mean to keep you up."

you wave it off, though your heart is pounding in your chest. "it’s fine. i’ll survive."

sukuna chuckles, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "you’re a tough one, aren’t you?"

you can’t help but smile, despite the situation. "i try."

there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes and you can’t pin it, he’s staring at you with those beautiful iridescent eyes, and you can’t help but shift under his gaze.sukuna would never admit but he found you cute, there was another woman in his room that he’d just fucked and yet here he was thinking about you.you had a pink hoodie pulled over your curvy frame, ass peeking out from the bottom. it was just enough to make his imagination swirl to life, he wanted to take you right here on the kitchen counter,have you beg his name as he fucked you so hard you cried.

you look so fucking pretty, dark hair pulled into a high ponytail, pieces framing your tired face.your pretty white teeth are gnawing at your plump lips in anticipation.he makes you nervous, he can tell. he likes watching you squirm under his gaze, he finds it adorable how easy it is to get you flustered.

“well, goodnight.”

as he turns to head back to his room, you catch yourself staring at his back, the muscles moving beneath his skin. you shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts.he was literally upstairs, fucking another woman and you’re here drooling over him.now it’s just you alone in the kitchen, cicadas outside singing in harmony.you down the rest of your orange juice before rinsing out your cup and switching the light off.

your curiosity gets the best of you and you can’t help but press a ear against his door as you’re passing by, you can make out grunts.they’re too high pitched to be hers, they’re his.you find yourself getting wet at the sound, they’re deep and guttural and so damn sexy.you feel like a creep when you find your hands inching towards your panties, pushing them aside and rubbing into your wetness.you almost moan, god, you’re so fucking horny all of a sudden.

you bite down on your lip to stifle a moan when you slip a finger inside of you, a soft squelch filling your ears as you eagerly move your finger inside your wet pussy.this is so wrong you think, but it feels so good and the way sukuna’s moans are filling your ears has your head spinning.your head lulls back as you add another finger, stretching your tight hole wider.you’re desperate, other hand finding your throbbing clit.you rub in time with the creaking of the bed,your pussy pulsating around your fingers.

“you like this huh?” you hear sukuna whine, spurring you to move faster.the wetness of your cunt leaks down your fingers,and you want to cry out loud as your finger finds its way deeper and deeper inside of you.tears threaten to spill from your watery eyes as you ravage your poor clit, flicking, rubbing, squeezing the tiny bud between your fingers.

“you think i don’t see the way you look at me? i can tell you want me to bend you over.”

if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was talking to you, but it’s not possible. he doesn’t know you’re outside listening in on him, fingering yourself to his moans, his voice.a part of you wish he did, but part of you knew that it’d be extremely taboo to have relations with a man double your age.but fuck, did you want to so bad.

you can feel your stomach churning with that familiar feeling,legs buckling as they threaten to give out.”are you gonna cum?” sukuna asks, his voice is dark and you can hear the smirk in it.you nod your head as if he’s talking to you, hips now meeting your fingers.you want to cry out as your orgasm takes over you, back resting against the wall as you shake with pleasure.

“good girl.” you once again hear sukuna, realizing what you’ve just done you quickly pull your fingers out of you.god, was your sex life this pathetic? you shake your head and make your way to the bathroom to wash your hands.once you’re finally settled back under your pink covers your phone pings.

sukuna: promise to let me taste next time?

likes+ comments+ reblogs are appreciated <3

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hi! could you help with describing different sounds of materials and textures? like dripping of water, clinking of glass etc. maybe a vocab list or your advice in general, doesn't matter ☆

Chatter - to click repeatedly or uncontrollably (teeth chattering)

Chime - to make a musical and especially a harmonious sound (clock chimed at midnight)

Clang - to make a loud metallic ringing sound (anvils clanged)

Clatter - to make a rattling sound (dishes clattered)

Clop - a sound made by or as if by a hoof or wooden shoe against the pavement (clop of hooves)

Clunk - the sound of a blow (books fall to the floor with a clunk)

Crackle - to make small sharp sudden repeated noises (fire crackles)

Creak - a prolonged grating/squeaking sound (creaking wheels)

Crinkle - to give forth a thin crackling sound (crinkling silks)

Fizzle - to make a hissing or sputtering sound (fireworks fizzled out)

Grate - to rub or rasp noisily (metal grating)

Gurgle - to make a sound like that of a gurgling liquid (water gurgling through the pipes)

Hiss - to make a sharp sibilant sound (hissing steam)

Jangle - to make a discordant often ringing sound (keys jangling)

Pitter-patter - a rapid succession of light sounds or beats (pitter-patter of rain on the roof)

Pulse - rhythmical beating or sounding (pulsed from the speakers)

Rasp - to produce a grating sound (rasp of steel)

Rattle - a rapid succession of short sharp noises (windows rattled)

Ripple - to play with a slight rise and fall of sound (rippling water)

Ruffle - a low vibrating drumbeat (ruffle the pages of a book)

Rumble - to make a low heavy rolling sound (thunder rumbling)

Rustle - a quick succession of small sounds (rustling leaves)

Scrape - a sound made by scraping (chairs scraping against the floor)

Sizzle - to make a hissing sound (a sizzling pan)

Slosh - the slap or splash of liquid (water sloshed around)

Splash - to make a sloshing sound (waves splashing)

Splutter - to make a noise as if spitting (spluttering engine)

Squeak - to utter or make a short shrill cry or noise (squeaking wheel)

Susurration - a whispering sound; murmur (susurration of waves)

Throb - to beat or vibrate rhythmically (throbbing beat of the bass)

Thrum - to sound with a monotonous hum (wings thrumming)

Thud - a dull sound (bag landed on the floor with a thud)

Thump - to strike or beat with or as if with something thick or heavy so as to cause a dull sound (thump of footsteps on the stairs)

Whish - to make a sibilant sound (baseball whished past)

Whiz - a hissing, buzzing, or whirring sound (cars whiz by)

Some Words to Describe Different Sounds

Harsh or loud. If you want to articulate abrupt, piercing, or loud noises, use: beep, bellow, blare, cackle, clack, clang, clank, clink, croak, earsplitting, full blast, grating, high frequency, huff, jarring, rasp, rumble, scrunch, shriek, toot, twang, vibrating, wail, and zap.

Soft or subtle sounds. Some descriptors to use to evoke quiet noises: breathy, chime, droning, fizz, glug, gurgle, jingle, moan, sizzle, squish, swish, swoosh, tinkle, trill, wheeze, whir, and whoosh.

Animal sounds to describe noises. English language readers often associate these words with animal noises, but you can use them to create imaginative descriptions of other sounds: bleat, bray, chirping, cluck, hoot, howl, meow, neigh, purr, quack, roar, woof, and yelp.

How to Write With Sound

Auditory imagery engages the sense of hearing.

Literary devices (onomatopoeia; alliteration) can help create sounds in writing.

Sound is a great sense to use to create a mood.

Consider two scenes of the same forest:

You might describe the chirping of many small birds, the rustle of small mammals moving through the softly falling leaves, or the whispering of a breeze through the trees. This creates a particular atmosphere, one that seems peaceful and maybe even a little magical.

Now consider another set of sounds from the same forest. Somewhere in the distance you hear the howl of an unidentifiable animal. Nearer to you, the creak of an old branch, followed by the snap of a twig. The wind, when you hear it, seems to moan.

The same two descriptions of a forest can create entirely different atmospheres with sensory language. Some exercises:

Carry a notebook with you as you go about your normal day.

Pay attention to the sounds you notice and write them down as you go.

Does your coffeemaker whistle, or would you say it hisses?

Do the sirens of emergency vehicles wail, or perhaps blare?

Does your door squeak?

The more you can become attentive to these things, the more you’ll be able to incorporate them into your writing.

Use onomatopoeia to help capture the sound of a scene:

The plop of a frog dropping into a pond

The clink of two champagne glasses

The crackle of a dry log on a hot fire

The whoosh of a car racing by

Onomatopoeic Words: hiss, ping, crunch, pop, sizzle, bang, swish, smash, flutter, clunk, peck, whistle, smack, whack, hush, whir, tip-toe, thud, zap, twang, cock-a-doodle-doo, squish, stomp, tap, thump, splash, purr, tinkle, gush, kerplunk, slurp, swirl, crash, whirl, clang, mumble, squeak, boom, meow, cuckoo, pow, splat, quack, screech, zoom, tick-tock, burp, clip-clop, eek, hiccup, moo, oink, buzz

In general, though, you’ll want to be judicious about using onomatopoeia, unless you’re going for a deliberately cheesy, comic book-type effect.

Tips for Describing Sounds in Writing

Consider your purpose. As you begin a project, decide if you want to render a specific experience faithfully or creatively. Consider the target audience for your creative writing, blog, or journalism. Understanding your goal and audience helps you make descriptors more effective and precise.

Employ onomatopoeia. Onomatopoeia is a type of sensory language in which the descriptive word sounds like what it describes—words like “drip,” “bang,” or “plink.” If you want to achieve an especially sound-driven description, consider using existing onomatopoeic words or craft your own.

Pay attention to verbs. While adjectives (words like “loud” or “sharp”) are the obvious choice for describing sounds, verbs are a powerful tool that can also help you achieve a strong description. For example, saying, “the jet was loud” is accurate and descriptive, while “the jet screamed” evokes an even stronger sense of the sound.

Sometimes less is more. Descriptions are most effective when focused, allowing readers to zero in on the essential details. If you include too many synonyms or attach multiple adjectives to each noun, you can overwhelm or confuse readers.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Word Lists ⚜ 100 Sensory Words

Hope this helps with your writing! :)

[munsonsmixtapes]

Angel

Evan “Buck” Buckley x fem!shy!probie!reader

summary: You and Buck have been acting weird since the night at the bar and the other members of the 118 get suspicious of your relationship

word count: 2k

part one part three part four part five

The kitchen was empty when you showed up to work. You had gotten there early to prepare the meal you were going to share together to thank the crew for being so welcoming. You had a big feast planned out and were really looking forward to everyone enjoying the meal you prepared for them and the time that it took to do so.

Not only had you wanted to impress Bobby, but you also wanted to impress Buck…maybe a little. You hadn’t stopped thinking about him since the night before and were suddenly really excited to see him.

It seemed like everyone entered at the same time and they all followed the smell of your cookies that had cooled down just enough. Buck was the first to enter the kitchen and he reached for a cookie, but you slapped his hand before he could get one.

“Damn, slugger,” he winced as he clutched his hand to his chest in a dramatic manner. You had every intention of letting him have a cookie, but now you kind of wanted him to work for it.

“Who’s slugger?” Hen asked as she got a cookie and took a bite.

“No one,” Buck winked at you. “Just an inside joke.” You felt your cheeks warm and you lowered your head, feeling your cheeks warm.

“An inside joke?” Eddie asked as he also got a cookie and took a huge bite out of it. “This is so good. What’s the occasion?”

“Yes,” you nodded your head. “And I just wanted to make you guys something to thank you.” You felt yourself becoming all shy again despite how close you were getting to everyone.

“You didn’t have to thank us,” Bobby spoke up as he entered the kitchen, followed by Chimney and Ravi, all reaching for the baking sheet, now the only one not with a cookie being Buck. “You’re family now.”

Your heart warmed at the words and you turned to Bobby who gave you a smile. You then turned back to Buck who was already looking at you, a smirk playing on his pink lips. You picked up a cookie off the sheet and handed it to him, your fingers brushing as he reached out to grab it.

“Well, since we’re family, I’m making you all my best dish. Homemade lasagna.”

“Sounds great,” Eddie gave your shoulder a squeeze and Buck didn’t miss it, still unsure of whether or not something was happening between the two of you. He really hoped there wasn't.

“Is there going to be garlic bread?” He asked and you gave him a look as if to say "Really?"

“You're right," he chuckled. "Stupid question."

"Of course there's going to be garlic bread, Buckley. And salad and more cookies." You smiled to yourself proudly as you watched the rest of the crew devour the cookies you had gotten up early to bake.

"Good," Chimney spoke up. "Because these definitely won't last until dinner." He grabbed another cookie and chewed on it.

"Yeah," Ravi chimed in, grabbing another one as well. At that point, it was hard to keep track of how many there were to begin with. You were so glad you had doubled the recipe at the last minute.

Buck moved closer to you, letting his shoulder brush yours and you were still unsure of his intentions as far as you were concerned. You were still very unsure whether or not he was actually interested in you. Maybe you'd have to ask Eddie since asking Buck himself was definitely not something you felt ready to do.

Even though you were getting more comfortable with him since you had hung out at the bar the night before, you still didn't feel as close to him as you did to Eddie, who had become your closest friend in the 118. He was like a brother to you and you were very grateful to have him.

You turned in his direction, but you weren't thinking about him. Buck had invaded your mind and all you could think about was how you should have just taken the chance and kissed him in the elevator the night before like you had wanted to. You weren't sure how it would have played out, but you would have hoped that he would have returned it.

"Whatcha thinking about over there, slugger?" Buck nudged your shoulder and you immediately pulled your attention away from Eddie, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

"Nothing," you shook your head.

"If you like him, you should say something," he said low enough for just you to hear.

"I don't like Eddie." And you didn't. Not like that, anyway. You were afraid you were starting to feel that way about Buck, though. But you were going to push those feelings down because you didn't think that getting involved romantically with a coworker was the best idea. You had seen that play out so many times and it never ended well.

"Well, it seems like you do with the hearts that were forming in your eyes." How were you going to explain that you were thinking about him and just happened to be looking in Eddie's direction? And it would have been just downright embarrassing to admit that you were thinking about kissing him. As far as you were concerned, you were going to take that secret to your grave.

"Alright, I guess I believe you," he nudged you shoulder one more time before grabbing one more cookie than heading over to the couch to take a seat.

Buck didn't understand how you couldn't see how he felt about you. Everyone else in the 118 could, so why did you seem so clueless? And why couldn't tell if his feelings were reciprocated? That was something that was so obvious to him, but you were just a big question mark. You were mysterious and he couldn't figure you out for the life of him.

He knew that you were shy and maybe he just needed to get closer to you for you to fully open up. But then there was Eddie. You were definitely close to him and Buck was definitely jealous of that even though he'd never admit it. Every time he watched the two of you, he felt sick to stomach and would suddenly be filled with anger.

He watched Eddie whispering something as the two of you sat on the couch, not even aware that he was crumbling his cookie in his fist, catching the attention of Chimney. He sat to the left of him, completely blocking his view of you and Eddie and maybe that was for the best.

“What’s going on, Buck?” Chimney asked and Buck just furrowed his eyebrows.

“Nothing,” Buck shook his head.

“Well, something clearly made you upset since you crumbled your cookie.” Buck looked down and opened his hand, the cookie crumbs falling to the table.

“It’s nothing, Chim, I swear.” Buck knew that Chimney was just looking out for him, but it just seemed like he was trying to pry and Buck didn’t like that. Not one bit. This was no one’s business but his own. And maybe yours if he ever got the guts to tell you how he felt.

“Well, let’s just say that if looks could kill, Eddie would definitely be dead.”

Buck sat with the words the entire day, deciding that he was finally going to tell you after work. He could see how it would play out so clearly in his head. He’d show up at your apartment and tell you exactly how he felt about you and you’d respond with a kiss before telling him that you felt the same way. You’d then invite him inside and the two of you would snuggle up on your couch and watch a movie, your night filled with nothing but kisses and giggles.

But all of that came crashing down when he watched Eddie chasing you around the firehouse. As soon as he caught you, he picked you up and spun you around, giggles spilling from both of your mouths. Nothing going on between you and Eddie his ass. He didn’t want to see the rest of the interaction and hurried to his locker to grab his stuff. He really needed to get the hell out of there as soon as possible.

“Damn, where’s the fire, Buck?” Hen chuckled. “Got a hot date?”

“Something like that,” Buck muttered under his breath as he put the strap of his bag over his shoulder, making a beeline for his jeep just in time to watch you and Eddie exit the firehouse to the parking lot.

“Hey, Eds,” you called after him. Eds? Yeah, Buck was so fucked. “Can I get a ride to the bar? I left my car there last night.”

“Sorry, I have to go pick up Chris. But Buck should be able to.” Eddie was trying his hardest to set the two of you up and he was hoping that now he would finally be successful. He had hoped that leaving the two of you alone at the bar the night before would have made you confess your feelings to each other, but considering the fact that you weren’t acting like a couple, he was beginning to think that didn’t happen.

“Is that okay, Buck?” There was no fucking way that he was going to be in a car alone with you. You were a taken woman and he was afraid of what he would do. He wanted to kiss you so bad and he definitely wasn’t going to hurt his best friend by doing so.

“Sure, come on.” He nodded his head towards the parking lot and you followed him. He should have known that he couldn’t say no to you. Once you were both in his jeep, he sped off to the bar, simultaneously wanting you to be out of the car as soon as possible but also wanting to spend time with you. He couldn’t seem to make up his mind. Especially since it seemed like you were dating his best friend.

Buck was suspiciously quiet as he drove, maybe going a little bit over the speed limit. You looked over at him and could see that his jaw was clenched and he seemed very upset. What had happened that the man who never shut up had been rendered speechless? Surely it had been your fault, right?

“Buck?” You asked, turning to look at him again. He kept quiet, not even looking your way. “Buck, c’mon, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “It’s stupid.”

“I bet it’s not. I know we’re not exactly close, but you can tell me, I promise.” His anger was reaching its peak as he pulled into the parking lot of the bar. He pulled into a spot and put the jeep in park before getting out, making his way towards the building. He couldn’t tell you now. He really couldn’t.

“Buck,” you called after him as you followed his lead, trying to catch up to him. “Buck, please,” you pleaded.

Now he felt like a dick. All you were trying to do was talk to him and he was treating you like garbage. You didn’t deserve that. Especially when you didn’t do anything wrong.

“You wanna know what’s going on?” He asked, turning around to face you. “Fine,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I like you, okay?”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words. Of course he liked you. You were friends, right? Unless there was some underlying meaning to his words that you were missing.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the moment you stepped into the fire house and it’s driving me fucking crazy.” He was stepping closer to you and you were just trying to wrap your head around the whole thing. He liked you? As more than a friend? Since when?

“You like me?” That was not what you thought he was going to say. It was very common for the people you liked to not reciprocate your feelings, shutting you down time and time again. But this was different. Buck liked you. He liked you and as more than a friend.

“I do,” he nodded. “But don’t worry about it. I know you’re with Eddie.” Where had he gotten that impression? You and Eddie were friends. Just friends, absolutely no attraction between you. And Buck should have known that.

“Buck, I’m not with Eddie,” you laughed. “He’s just a friend. More like a brother, actually.”

“You what-”

“I like you,” you told him, taking his hands in yours. His eyes widened then he looked on either side of him, but you grabbed him by his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “Yes, you, Buck.”

“But, what about-”

“For once in your life will you please just shut up?” You asked and pressed your lips to his. He gasped into your mouth but he eventually melted into you, wrapping his arms around your waist as his lips slotted between yours.

It was soft and sweet and everything either of you could have imagined. His lips were just as soft as you were hoping and he seemed to pour all of his feelings for you that he had accumulated over the past few weeks into the kiss, making you feel nothing but special.

Just as he licked into your mouth, a rain droplet hit your cheek. You pulled away just as it started to downpour and Buck grabbed you by the hand and pulled you under the awning to shield you both from the rain and his lips found yours once again and he smiled into it.

“What?” You laughed.

“Nothing,” he pecked your lips. “You’re just an angel.”

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

omg I just find you and your writings are amazing♥️

Can you please do some husband headcanons please?

surely, i can try my best, thanks for the ask!!

Husband Headcanons I

for Iruka, Kakashi, and Itachi (with wildcard appearances from Jiraiya and Obito) (GN!Reader)

Your fav isn't mentioned? Check out Husband Headcanons 2!

Warnings: couple swear words, couple sexual references (Reader Discretion advised), fluff, lmk if this sucks

Masterlist💿

Iruka

Would suggest the springtime for the wedding, but Iruka would still happily marry you whenever your heart desired

Danced with you throughout the entire reception, only getting tipsy (enabling you to get comfortably inebriated)

Begs to carry you over the threshold like a gentleman, and the two of you spent the whole night consumating the union

Best sex you had ever had, and Iruka was of the same mind - both of you were totally in your element on your wedding night, and couldn't stop until noon the next day

Honeymoon takes place in the Land of Flowers, within a small settlement near the coast

Iruka pays for a week's stay at an Inn, and the two of you spend the days watching the water and walking through wildflower fields, collecting colourful, fragrant bouquets as you went

Domestically, such a teamplayer - Iruka will happily do the dishes after you cook dinner, and vice versa, he'll mop after you sweep, he turns on lights for you while you open windows

Would happily have a pet, probably a cat (orange or calico), but wouldn't be opposed to something a bit more spunky like a gekko or a rat

Dances with you in the living room while it rains, takes you (and your pet) out in the sunshine - he just loves to spend time with you and be with you

Kakashi

The wedding was small, kept to just close friends and your immediate family, probably just within the courthouse with a nice little reception after

Kakashi would carry you all the way from the reception to your shared apartment, right over the threshold, and it would take only a Hokage-level emergency to get him away from you after

Can't take a very long honeymoon because of his duties as Hokage, but will take you out for a long weekend in one of the coastal villages of the Land of Fire

Despite the long hours he works, Kakashi is the most attentive husband ever

Fresh flowers decorate a crystal vase on the coffee table, replaced every week, the trash is always taken out without you having to ask, he'll surprise you with full breakfasts on the weekends AND do the dishes after

Gets all bubbly every time he hits someone with a my spouse and is constantly bringing you up in conversation just to do so

Many nights are spent cuddling on the couch after dinner, reading independantly

You want a dog? Lovely! Kakashi wants a dog. You want a cat? Great! Kakashi wants a cat. A bird? A snake? A gerbil? Bring it on, that sounds fun.

Such a funny man, still needing to parade around the village with you in his arm, as if not everybody is already aware

Itachi

We're doing an Everything'sFine!AU because I'll cry otherwise

Massive wedding, so many floral arrangements, easily half the village shows up, Itachi cannot stop smiling the entire day

Literally tears up at the altar when he sees you, can't contain himself, you're such a vision

Takes you to the Land of Waterfalls for the most peaceful honeymoon of all

You two spend a week, or two, meditating with each other, drinking special teas, swimming for hours, wrapped in a lover's embrace that knits your hearts together even closer

Of course, in the hustle and bustle of the weekdays, Itachi establishes Saturday as Cleaning Day, and will clean the entire house, top to bottom, by himself (but will very much appreciate any help you provide)

Sunday is the day Itachi reserves to spend with you, either out on the town, or in the house, resting and relaxing together

Compliments every single look of yours as if it's the first time he's ever seen you, Itachi just can't believe his luck, and gets heart palpatations every single time he hears you call him your husband

Gets way more vulnerable after marriage, allowing himself to open up with a different level of confidence

Jiraiya

Destination wedding so people don't want to come, he wants the ceremony to be perfect and intimate

Gets so fucked up at the reception that you have to carry him over the threshold

He's such a sweetie about it when he wakes up though, apologising and fucking you reaaal good the entirety of the next day

Takes you on a month of travel, literally to every single Land

Writes you special poems and stories to wake up to while he's cheffing up the best breakfasts ever

Writes an entire book about you, and it was a best-seller

No one makes a better cup of tea than Jiraiya, and he's always got a tea ready for when you wake up, when you come home, after dinner

The absolute king of being in the same room while doing separate things, you're in his lap or holding his non-dominant hand, and every once in a while you'll share a brief kiss that might evolve into something a bit more distracting

Hugging and kissing as soon as you come home - he missed you so damn bad and needs to let you know

Is a very organized messy, but not at all dirty, Jiraiya doesn't mind when you clean up after him but would honestly prefer you didn't (he can't find things after, even if you tell him exactly where you put things)

Birthdays, Anniversaries, any opportunity to shower you in love and gifts, Jiraiya will take it and run with it

He just adores you and lets everyone know about it

Obito

Goofball gets an Officiant Certification and marries the two of you, himself

His vows are so long and so sweet that you can't even get yours out without stuttering and crying

Obito whisks you away to the Land of Hotsprings for nearly a month, immediately after the rings are exchanged

Finds nothing more fun than going out on dates with you while married, he almost likes it more than when you two were just going steady

Can't stand to let you sleep while he's awake, no matter how poorly he feels about depreiving you of sleep

Kisses and hugs every time the two of you are reunited

Obito won't ever shut up about you when you're apart, and it gets on everyone's nerves but Konan who finds his musings sweet

Lives, loves, laughs domestic life - he will do anything to make you happy, including the most grueling chores (those fucking baseboards)

Always makes you laugh, no matter how you're feeling, and he loves your laugh more than anything

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part Eight

Pairing: Bucky x reader AU

Word count: 3.7k

Warning: Angst....

A/N: first of many fights <3 also your comments make my day 

-----

You walk into the apartment, the excitement from your date still buzzing faintly inside you—until you spot Bucky sitting on the couch. His eyes immediately flick to yours, his expression unreadable, and just like that, any leftover thrill from the night vanishes, replaced by an ache that settles heavily in your chest.

It’s the first time you’ve been alone with him all week, and for a second, neither of you says anything. Then he stands, clearing his throat. “So… how’d it go?”

His words reignite the frustration you’ve been holding back since last week, since his careless comment at the bar. Instead of brushing past him like you’d planned, you stop, crossing your arms and staring at him, letting your words come out sharper than you intended.

“Good. It was a great date, actually,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Dean was a total gentleman, and wouldn’t you know it—I handled a real date just fine.”

A flicker of regret crosses his face, but he quickly looks away, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “That’s… that’s not how I meant it. I don’t know why I said that, and you know I’d never hurt you on purpose.”

You laugh bitterly, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room, as you shrugged off your coat, placing your keys and phone in the dish. “Really, Bucky? Because lately, that seems like the only thing you’ve been doing—hurting me.”

His gaze snaps back to you, his expression hardening. “You really want to do this? Just… hash everything out right now?”

You throw your arms up, the frustration boiling over. “Why the hell not? It’s not like things have been getting any better with us pretending everything’s fine!”

He steps closer, his jaw tight. “Fine. Let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about that night, then.” He pauses, his voice dropping as his eyes bore into yours. “Why did you leave?”

You freeze, caught off guard. “What… what do you mean?”

He takes another step toward you, anger and hurt evident in his face. “You know exactly what I mean. After that night at the party, after we… after we slept together. Why did you leave without a word? I woke up, and you were just gone.”

Your pulse quickens, emotions swirling in a chaotic mess inside you. “Are you kidding me, Bucky? Did you even want me to stay?”

He lets out a hollow laugh, the sound filled with disbelief. “What are you talking about? Of course I did! You’re the one who walked out, not me!”

The anger rises, mixing with all the hurt and confusion you’ve buried over the years. “I left because… because I panicked, alright? You had this reputation, Bucky, and everyone knew it. I thought… I thought you’d wake up, regret it, and hate me for being just another one of your mistakes.”

His eyes widen, a mixture of anger and disbelief flashing across his face. “Do you really think that little of me? You think I’d just… forget about you? You’re my best friend, for god’s sake. We’ve known each other since we were kids, and you thought I’d throw that away for just sex?”

“Oh, so it was just sex, huh?” you snap, bitterness dripping from every word.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it!” he shouts, frustration evident as he rakes a hand through his hair, his voice breaking slightly. “God, you have to know it was more than that!”

You cross your arms tighter around yourself, trying to hold everything in. “I don’t know what I thought, Bucky. But I knew I couldn’t stand being something you regretted. I wasn’t going to sit there and wait for you to decide whether it was worth anything to you.”

He stares at you, hurt and frustration radiating from him. “All I’ve ever done is care about you. Everything people said about me, all those rumors—they were just that. Rumors. I thought you of all people would know that.”

You look away, fighting the sting of tears in your eyes, but he steps closer, his voice rising. “Do you know how much it killed me? You left me there like it meant nothing.”

“Maybe it didn’t mean as much as you think it did!” you shout back, anger overtaking the sadness. “Maybe that night wasn’t some big, life-changing moment for either of us. Maybe it was just a mistake!”

His face crumples slightly, like you’ve slapped him, and his voice drops, filled with hurt. “Is that really what you think?”

You hesitate, the words burning in your throat, but you nod, unable to back down. “I… I don’t know, Bucky. All I know is that I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep waiting around, trying to read between the lines, hoping you’ll finally decide what you want.”

He steps back, his face hardening, his voice cold. “Then maybe you should go. If you’re so tired of being here, if I’m such a disappointment to you… maybe it’s better for both of us if you’re not here.”

Your heart clenches painfully, but you force yourself to nod, swallowing back the tears. “Fine. If that’s what you want, then I’ll go.”

“Go, then!” he yells, his eyes flashing, and you can see the unshed tears there, barely contained. “Get out. Do whatever you want—I don’t care anymore. Just… leave.”

For a moment, you just stare at him, the weight of his words crashing over you like a wave. Then, without another word, you turn on your heel, your hands shaking. You feel the tears spilling over as you open the door, but you don’t let yourself look back, slamming it behind you, the sound echoing painfully through the empty apartment.

The chill of the night air bites into your skin as you walk through the dark streets, the city lights casting a glow around you, making the world feel almost surreal. You’re shivering, partly from the cold and partly from the adrenaline that’s kept you moving since you stormed out of the apartment, leaving behind your coat, your phone—everything. You feel like you’re walking through a dream, or maybe a nightmare, your heels clicking against the pavement in the silence.

It’s only after you’ve been walking for a while, the shock wearing off, that you realize the closest place you can go is Steve and Sam’s. You pick up your pace, arms wrapped around yourself, mascara streaking down your cheeks as the wind stings your face. It’s late, nearly ten o’clock on a Saturday night, and as you walk you can’t help but worry. What if they’re not home? What if you just end up standing outside in the cold, with nowhere to go?

You finally reach their apartment building and practically rush up to their door, knocking, then pressing your ear to the door, hoping you hear movement inside. The minutes feel like hours, and you’re starting to feel that familiar rise of panic, the one that tightens your chest and makes it hard to breathe. Just as you’re about to give up, you hear footsteps on the other side.

The door unlocks, and then it opens, revealing Steve.His face shifts from confusion to shock as he takes you in. “What the hell happened?” he asks, voice thick with concern as he quickly pulls you inside, shutting the door behind you. “Are you okay?”

The second you’re inside, the warmth of the apartment breaks down whatever wall you were holding up. You start crying, and without a word, Steve wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you sob against his chest.

After a moment, he gently guides you to sit on the couch, his hand rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles. But as you pull away, wiping at your smudged makeup, you see the worry in his eyes shift to something sharper, angrier.

“Wait,” he says, frowning as he looks you over again. “Where’s your coat? And your phone? You didn’t just walk all the way here without anything, did you?”

You sniffle, still catching your breath, and nod, the hurt fresh all over again. “I left everything at the apartment,” you manage, voice shaky. “I just… I couldn’t stay there, Steve. Bucky told me to get out. He told me to leave.”

Steve’s face falls in shock, his mouth opening slightly as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “He… he told you to get out?” he repeats, trying to process it. “And then just let you walk out? At this hour? Without your things?”

You nod, tears spilling down your cheeks as you cover your face. “I don’t think he… he was just so mad, Steve. I was too. He didn’t care. He just… told me to go.”

Steve lets out a sharp exhale, struggling to contain his anger. “That’s no excuse. I don’t care how mad he was, he should’ve never let you leave like that. He should’ve checked on you, at the very least. Damn it…” He reaches out, squeezing your shoulder with a mix of anger and worry. “You should have called me. I’d have come to get you in a second.”

You offer a small, broken smile through your tears, still trembling. “I know… I just… wasn’t thinking clearly.”

He shakes his head, his hand still on your shoulder, his gaze intense and filled with concern. “Don’t apologise. You have nothing to be sorry for.” His voice softens, his anger giving way to a fierce protectiveness. “I just can’t believe he let you walk out alone. It kills me that you felt like you had to do this.”

He squeezes your shoulder, his voice soft. “Do you want to talk about it, or just… sit for a while?”

You let out a shaky laugh, still catching your breath. “I don’t even know what to say. Everything just… came out. All these things we’ve been avoiding saying, and… I don’t know. I didn’t think it’d hurt this much.”

Steve nods, a sad, sympathetic look crossing his face. “Sometimes… those things we avoid saying are the things that hurt the most. Especially when it’s someone we care about.”

You feel a tear slip down your cheek, and he reaches up, brushing it away gently. His eyes are soft, filled with an empathy that makes you feel a little less alone. “Thank you, Steve,” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

You lean into him, letting yourself sink into his warmth, and he pulls you close, wrapping an arm around you again. The adrenaline finally ebbs, exhaustion taking its place as you relax in his embrace, feeling safe for the first time since you left.

You close your eyes, and before long, you start to feel them grow heavy, your breaths slowing as you begin to drift off on Steve’s shoulder.

A few minutes later, Steve’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He carefully shifts, trying not to disturb you, and pulls it out to see a message from Natasha: Hey, have you heard from her? She hasn’t updated me on the date, isn’t answering her phone, and I’m getting worried.

He sighs, glancing at you before typing back, She’s here. She walked from the apartment without her phone or her coat. She and Bucky got into it, pretty bad, ive never seen her like this.

Natasha’s response is almost instant: Are you kidding me? followed by a string of angry emojis.

Steve takes a deep breath, looking down at you as he types out another message, this time to Bucky, his fingers pressing the keys harder than usual: She’s here. Alone. No thanks to you! Without her things. And you let her walk out like that? What the hell were you thinking?

He sends the message and then texts Sam, who’s still out with coworkers, letting him know to be quiet when he comes home because you’re sleeping on the couch. A moment later, Sam replies with a string of question marks.

Steve glances down at you, tucked against him, your breathing even and steady now, and sighs before typing a final message to Sam: I’ll explain everything later.

Steve sits on the couch, holding you gently as you fall asleep against him, your breathing soft and steady now, a world away from the state you were in when you first showed up at the door. He glances down at you, feeling a pang in his chest as he takes in the remnants of your makeup, smudged from the tears you cried on his shoulder, and he’s struck by just how much he hates seeing you like this—hurting, broken down, all because of Bucky.

Yet, selfishly, there’s a part of him—deep down, hidden from everyone, including himself most days—that’s grateful you came to him tonight. He knows it’s wrong, knows it’s just his heart betraying him again, but he can’t help it. He’s loved you since junior high, since you were both just kids fumbling through life, figuring out what friendship meant. And over the years, that love has only deepened, becoming something he never talks about, never even lets slip. He’s had to sit on the sidelines and watch as you poured your heart into Bucky, hoping one day he’d finally open his eyes and see you the way Steve does.

You deserve everything in the world, Steve thinks. Someone who’ll give you the love you’ve always deserved, who wouldn’t leave you standing alone in the middle of a dark city street, heartbroken and afraid. But instead, you’re stuck in love with someone who’s too scared to do anything about it, and Steve… he’s just the friend you come to when it all falls apart.

A tear slips down his cheek, and he wipes it away quickly, forcing a silent, bitter laugh at himself. You’re his Bucky, he realizes painfully, and he’s you—watching, waiting, knowing you’ll never see him the way he sees you. It’s a cruel irony, and he hates himself for even thinking it.

Just then, the door creaks open, and Sam steps inside, blinking in surprise as he takes in the sight of you curled up against Steve, your tear-streaked face softened in sleep. He gives Steve a puzzled look, eyebrows raised, and Steve just raises a finger to his lips, shushing him. Carefully, he shifts out from under you, gently laying your head on the couch cushion and covering you with the throw blanket. He watches you for a moment before standing up and walking over to Sam, who’s now leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed.

“What happened?” Sam asks, his voice low as he eyes Steve with concern.

Steve rubs the back of his neck, sighing. “She showed up about an hour ago, just… wrecked. Crying, shivering at the door. She didn’t have her phone, her keys, or even a coat.”

Sam’s eyes widen. “What? Why didn’t she have her stuff?”

Steve’s jaw tightens as he answers, anger simmering in his voice. “Because Bucky told her to leave. They had a huge fight, and he just let her walk out like that. She came here on foot, alone, and he didn’t stop her. Didn’t even check if she had what she needed.”

Sam lets out a long breath, running his hands down his face in frustration. “Are you kidding me? That guy is such an idiot sometimes.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Steve mutters, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “I thought he was supposed to tell her how he felt. I thought he was ending things with Kate.”

Sam shakes his head, exasperated. “I know. I thought that was the plan too. Just last week, he said he was done with the excuses, that he was going to finally tell her. I don’t know what the hell’s holding him back, but tonight… she had her first date in years, Steve. She was supposed to have a good night, for once, and instead, she’s here, like this.”

Steve’s gaze shifts back to you, his heart aching as he watches you sleep. “I don’t get it. If he cares about her like he says he does, why does he keep doing this to her? Why won’t he just be honest?”

Sam sighs, shaking his head as he leans against the counter. “I don’t know, man. But she was so happy earlier. Right before her date, and she just… she was glowing. I hadn’t seen her like that in a long time.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, a sad smile tugging at his mouth. “And now… now she’s back to this, all because of him.”

Sam lets out a deep breath, crossing his arms. “Maybe this is a turning point, though. Maybe some good can come from this mess.”

Steve frowns, glancing back at him. “How could this possibly be a good thing?”

Sam gestures toward you, curled up on the couch. “Maybe some space between them will be good for both of them. She can finally see that she deserves better than this back-and-forth, and he can realize what he’s throwing away. Maybe it’s what they both need.”

Steve sighs, looking down, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah… maybe.” But as he stares at you, asleep on the couch, he can’t shake the quiet ache in his chest, wondering if you’ll ever see that someone’s been there for you all along.

---

The next morning, Steve steps out of his room to find Sam already up, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in hand. Sam glances toward the couch, noticing you still curled up, fast asleep, wrapped in a throw blanket.

“She’s still out,” Sam says quietly, nodding in your direction.

Steve looks over at you and nods. “Yeah, she must've been exhausted,” he says softly.

Sam takes a sip of his coffee, watching Steve for a moment before asking, “You gonna skip your run today?”

Steve glances back at him, then shakes his head. “I can miss a day,” he replies with a shrug, moving into the kitchen and grabbing things from the fridge to start breakfast.

Sam watches him, setting his mug down on the counter. “Look, man… this can’t be good for you either.”

Steve pauses, glancing at Sam. “What do you mean?”

Sam gives him a pointed look. “Come on, you know what I mean. You, being in love with her all these years.” He lowers his voice slightly, glancing over at you again. “Just… I don’t want to see any more of my best friends getting hurt, alright?”

Steve sighs, his shoulders tensing slightly. “Keep it down, Sam. She’s literally right there.”

Sam sighs too, his tone gentler now. “I’m just saying, Steve, you can still be a good guy and a good friend… while protecting your own heart. I don’t want you to keep waiting around and getting hurt.”

Steve nods slowly, resuming his work in the kitchen. “I know what I’m doing, Sam. Trust me. It’s been years of this. I’ll be fine.”

Sam gives him a skeptical look but just shakes his head, muttering, “Whatever you say, man.” He reaches for a mixing bowl, getting ready to make pancakes. A few minutes pass in comfortable silence, the smell of pancakes and coffee filling the kitchen.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees you beginning to stir on the couch. You stretch, blinking as you slowly sit up, momentarily disoriented, and your eyes go wide as you remember where you are.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Sam says with a grin, turning around to look at you.

“Oh God…” you murmur, running a hand over your face, slightly embarrassed. Everything from last night rushes back in a blur.

“You okay?” Steve asks, concern in his voice as he sets down the spatula.

“Yeah, just a bit of a headache,” you mumble, wincing slightly.

Without a word, Steve gets up and heads to the bathroom, returning with some Tylenol and a glass of water. You give him a grateful smile as you take them.

Sam grins, shooting you a playful look. “Well, you look like shit.”

“Sam!” Steve yells, half-scolding him, but you just laugh, shaking your head.

“Thanks,” you chuckle, swallowing the Tylenol. “I feel like it, too.”

Steve sits beside you for a moment, watching as you sip the water. Sam looks at you thoughtfully, then says, “You should go take a shower. I bet it’ll help clear your head.”

You nod, biting your lip. “I would… but I don’t exactly have anything to wear.”

Steve immediately jumps up, nodding toward his room. “I’m sure I can find some clothes that’ll work for you. Hold on.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, looking at him with a hint of embarrassment.

“Of course,” he says, smiling warmly. “Anything for you.”

He heads down the hall, and you follow, feeling a little lighter with each step. Once in his room, he digs through his dresser and hands you a pair of sweatpants, a soft T-shirt, and a towel. “Use whatever you need in the bathroom,” he says gently, his gaze warm and steady.

As he’s about to turn and leave the room, you stop him. “Stevie?”

He pauses, turning back. “Yeah?”

You give him a small, heartfelt smile. “Thank you. For everything. For always being such a great friend to me.”

Steve’s heart sinks slightly at the word “friend,” the weight of all the things he’s never said pressing down on him. But he musters a smile, nodding. “I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

You give him one last grateful look before heading to the bathroom. Once inside, you close the door and lean against it, letting out a shaky breath as your emotions resurface.

You turn on the shower, feeling the steam rise as you slip out of yesterday’s clothes. The hot water pours over you, soothing your tense muscles as you stand there, letting everything you’ve been holding in pour out.

Your thoughts drift to Bucky, to the fight, to everything that was said, and the words echo painfully in your mind. You wonder if he felt any regret after you left, if he realized how much his words hurt. But then you think about how he’d looked at you, the anger and frustration in his eyes, and your heart twists painfully. It’s a cycle, you realize—a cycle of loving someone who can’t seem to decide if he wants to hold onto you or push you away.

As the water washes over you, you close your eyes, trying to let go of the ache in your chest, but it lingers, a constant reminder of the choice you don’t know how to make.

[deathofacupid]

dude (blurb) | jake peralta

summary: "dude" but romantically.

warnings: none.

pairing: fem!reader x jake peralta (friends to lovers)

word count: 0.8k+ words

"okay, but i'm serious! you have to try it, it's literally amazing."

"i was gonna take your word for it, but i remembered it's you... so, no."

"dude," he whined, a soft smile adorning his lips.

"dude," you say back, same tone.

"fine, fine, what if i make you one? that's, like, no work required. y'know minus chewing."

"jacob jeffrey peralta, i am not, not even on my deathbed, trying pickles with ice cream. that's just a new level of gross."

"but charles approved it!"

"why on earth would that affect whether or not i try it?"

"y'know, i have no clue. i'm getting desperate."

"i can see that."

"dudeeee," he kicks his feet on the floor as he's sitting next to you on the couch. die hard is playing on the tv in his apartment, but the two of you have seen it so many times, you practically have it memorized by heart.

and why would you ever watch die hard when jake's sitting right there?

between you and yourself, you know which you'd rather watch. okay, "watch" sounded creepy.

you're laying on his lap as he's looking down at you, pouting.

you roll your eyes, but it's all fun. "dudeeee."

truth be told, you're sure you can handle the odd food combo, but teasing him and drawing this out is so much more fun. god, you really are in love with him.

"pretty, pretty, please? with- with, like, seven cherries on top?"

"just seven?" you pretend to be offended.

"i'm a brokie, the best i can do is eight." jake runs a hand through your hair, it's so comforting.

you sigh, "all right."

"to the cherries or the pream?"

"the- the what now?"

"pickles. ice cream. pickles and ice cream. pream? yeah, you know what, that's... that's not it. doesn't roll of the tongue great."

"oh, yeah. that, and it sounds like an std."

"good point. i'm gonna assume you meant the... cream... pi... creampi-"

"i'm gonna stop you right there."

he nods quickly. "right. what about cream-"

"not if it starts with 'cream', dude."

"icickles?"

"n-"

"piccream!"

"if i try your 'dish'," you air quote, "will you stop trying to come up with names."

"maybe."

you give him a look, and he amends, "yes. maybe. i pledge to do my best." jake salutes you, then pokes your check. you scowl, swatting him away and sitting up.

"lead me to your kitchen."

"sure. it's five steps that-a-way," he says, pointing to the kitchen that is quite exactly five steps away. like a true gentleman, jake scoops you - through which you protest ("dude!") - and then (after six steps, actually [wow, his apartment is slightly bigger than hypothesized]) sets you on the counter.

"i feel like you should know that i'm perfectly capable of walking on my own."

"but why would you when i'm here?"

"dude."

"dude," he replies, grabbing the ice cream from the freezer.

"how are you even supposed to eat this? like... spread it? o-or dip?"

jake grabs a spoon and scoops some ice cream onto it. "watch, young jedi."

"i don't-"

"shh, i'm yoda-ing." he spreads it on the pickle and shoves it in your face. slowly, you sniff it. it doesn't smell... like anything bad, really.

it doesn't look great though. "is it too late to go back?"

"yes." after a second, he groans, "gah, i'll go first." he takes a bite, and you make a face.

"mmm... you shouf knodis is-"

"jake, swallow."

he grins and you furrow your brows. "what- oh. oh! jake!" your cheeks heat up so quickly, for a number of reason. because, yeah, obviously the second one sounds better.

also, of course that's what he instantly goes to.

"oh, my god. are you twelve or thirty-three? because i honestly can't tell."

"dude, i'm well-versed. you wouldn't understand."

"i'm... twenty-five. wo-wouldn't i-?"

"schematics."

"yeah, okay, bud."

"dude," he corrects.

"right," you murmur, "dude."

you don't really realize how he's leaning in, the way if you do too, your lips would touch. you falter, and you can feel warm breath minglingwith yours.

jake cups your cheek and you lean into it. you aren't sure what's about to happen, though it should be obvious. but with jake, you're nervous, afraid that this isn't really happening.

you have no clue what he's done with the pickle, and you have no clue why that's what's on your mind right now.

he squeezes your waist gently, a way of asking for permission. you nod, and at first, it's just a brush. just a brush of his lips against yours, feeling for some type of sense that this is happening. that it's reality.

you press back against him, your hand on top of his, the one on your face. your other hand blindly feels for his hair, tugging against his soft, brown curls.

when you pull away, you're breathing hard. not because of the kiss, because it wasn't aggressive or any longer than twenty seconds, but because of the adrenaline of it all.

"dude," he breathes, and you giggle.

"y'taste like pickles. and ice cream. it's actually not that bad," you admit. "at least not on you."

"dude," jake repeats, dumb-founded at what just happened.

you peck him again, right on the lips, "dude."

[obae-me]

Nightbringer has already given us a decent amount of domestic Solomon, but I need MORE.

I need Solomon and MC leaving enchanted sticky notes for each other around the house, even going so far as to cast spells on them to sparkle or grow a flower or smell like their favorite scent or even give the sensation of a warm kiss.

I need Solomon pouting when he's forced out of the kitchen, looking like a puppy walled off behind the gate, brightening up when he's allowed inside but only to keep MC company. He has his own apron he puts on anyway, even if he's not permitted to participate. Any attempts to touch the food gets a playful slap on the hand.

I need some of their clothes to get mixed up together in the wash, leading to them wearing some part of each other's clothing.

I want them to work on chores together, one of them washing dishes while the other puts them away. Both of them use magic to speed up the process sometimes, but even the great sorcerer Solomon occasionally prefers to do it the normal way. It brings a bit more humanity to him. He feels more...connected that way.

I want MC to be staying late at the House of Lamentation but making sure Solomon has something filling to eat at home, a meal perfectly wrapped and preserved with a little note on top. It always hurts him when they're not here, when he knows they're out with someone else, but the meal comforts him. He reads the note over and over again until they come home.

If they share a bed, they both do their own thing next to each other before they sleep, peeking over at the other person if they laugh or gasp or make any sort of reaction. I imagine Solomon mutters to himself a lot. Waking each other up if one of them oversleeps or trying to tempt the other to stay in bed if they have to wake up to start the day.

Solomon going out to buy groceries and bringing back home stuff he thinks MC would like and forgetting what he was meant to go out and buy in the first place, resulting in them going shopping again together. He may or may not have planned it.

Solomon going out to find MC for whatever reason he can. "Oh, there's a small chance of rain today, so I thought I'd bring your umbrella to you." "I knew you would be busy today, so I thought I'd bring you a pick-me-up. Store bought, don't worry, I know." "I was simply heading home from the castle and thought I'd drop by." "I was bored." Literally anything he can do to just see MC again.

I want one of them to stay up really late for the other if they're out late only to fall asleep, the other coming in and either using magic to take them to bed or tuck them in on the couch/chair they're in, giving them a kiss on the cheek.

I want Solomon to be nervous, to be jealous in a teenager-y sort of way. I want him to be awkward, almost more so than Levi, because it's just been so long since he's connected to someone like this, if ever. He constantly shifts his hands around if they're holding them, because he's not sure if he's doing it properly. He happily announces to MC when they return home everything that he's cleaned with a child-like proudness, because it's been so long since he's been proud of himself for something. Calling MC on the phone and purposefully making it sound as casual and loving as possible just so he can go to the others and brag about the conversations he and MC have had together.

I have so many feelings about him.

[nonotnolan]

Trial Period

"Harry, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Blake's voice rang out through the apartment, though I couldn't quite tell why my roommate was currently mad at me. Still, if I didn't talk him down from whatever ledge he was on, he was just going to get more and more pissy. I sighed, and minimized the spreadsheet I was working on.

"Blake, you know I'm working from home today. Whatever you're mad about, you can come in here and talk to me about it. I'm sorry I left some dirty dishes in the sink, or whatever." He must have been mad, whatever I had done-- usually he waited until after he showered to talk to me.

He stomped into the living room so that he could stare down at me. "Oh no. You are in way more trouble than that. I just had the most interesting conversation at the gym today. Some beanpole fairy came up started flirting with me, and when I told him I didn't swing that way, guess what he did?" He paused, clearly waiting for me to confess to something, but I still had no idea why he was upset. "He pulled out his phone, and showed me a whole-ass conversation on Grindr with someone using my photos!"

I couldn't help but laugh, which certainly did not help him calm down. "Okay, and? Look, I'm sorry you got catfished, but I don't know why you're mad at me about it. You're trying to start a modeling career, right? It's one of the unfortunate risks of the job. I'm sorry that one of your Instagram followers has no sense of chill, but I don't see why that makes it my fault."

He shoved his phone into my face. "You see this photo? I downloaded it for a scheduled post, but it's from a gig that hasn't released yet. I'm not allowed to share any of those photos on social media until the magazine spread drops. You're the only other person who could have gotten onto my phone and grabbed it."

Well, that was a complication that I wasn't expecting. I stared at him, trying and failing to think of a loophole that sounded plausible. There was only one thing left to do. "Seth, I know you're in here," I said, loudly projecting my voice. "I know you wanted to try out a few different guys before you committed, but that's not gonna work anymore. The trial period is officially over. You broke it, you bought it. If you don't take Blake, he's going to ruin everything."

Blake scowled at me. "Who the fuck is Seth? Harry, what in the fuck is going on?"

"You're so cute when you're confused," I said, pinching his cheek. He was already pissed at me, I may as well go all out. Besides, I needed to give Seth enough time to prepare. "I'm not actually Harry. I haven't been for the last two weeks, not that you noticed. I'm actually a ghost who decided that this apartment would be a great place to find some new bodies to inhabit. And let's be honest, this whole complex is jam packed with hot, young studs like yourself." I couldn't help but flash an excited grin, and I think I might have let my real eyes flash for a few seconds. Well, whatever. I no longer needed to worry about keeping secrets from Blake.

I had clearly spooked him-- he started creeping backwards toward the door. "Harry, you're scaring me. That's not funny. Don't joke about that sort of thing, Harry. Just… fuck, delete that profile and promise me you won't do it again."

"Like I said, I'm not Harry," I said, grabbing my laptop bag and putting it in arm's length. I pulled out the mason jar that had Harry's soul in it, and placed it on the couch. "This is Harry. Or, what's left of him, anyway." Harry's soul fluttered around in a panic, banging into the glass walls as it tried to escape. Or maybe it was trying to warn Blake about what was about to happen next? It didn't really matter.

Blake had turned to run, but he didn't make it more than a few steps into the kitchen before he fell to the ground, as if something had slammed into his back. Seth hated possessing people using brute force, but his error hadn't left us with many other options. "Sorry for the close call, Phil," he said, adjusting his posture. Where Blake was constantly puffing his chest and arching his back, Seth had more of a forward slouch to his shoulders. It was a posture I was very familiar with-- regardless of the bodies we wore, we had been together long enough to recognize each other's presence.

"At least Blake has a good body," Seth said as he pulled himself up off the ground. "I was probably going to end up choosing this one anyway, to be honest." He started feeling up his chest, giving his nipples a few test pinches and letting out a soft moan. "Oh yeah, he's just as sensitive as I remembered. Do you have any spare jars in your bag? Obviously I didn't have time to put him to sleep before I possessed him, and he's just screaming non-stop in my head right now."

"Sounds like that's what you get for being careless," I said. "You know that helping you expel the soul is my favorite part. I'm not letting you rub one out in the bathroom, we're doing this the right way."

Seth pinched the bridge of his nose. "Come on, babe. You're at work for another five hours. I already said I was sorry, please don't force me to put up with the flesh owner for that long."

I closed my laptop and started unbuttoning my shirt. "Who said anything about waiting for me to get off work? No one tracks my activity as long as I get my work done on time." I leaned back and started groping Seth's hefty bulge. "Besides, we both know that Harry is trapped in a shit job. I bet we can get him something that pays way better."

He leaned over to give me a deep kiss. "You know, one of these days you'll get tired of turning your new hosts into porn stars," he said, as I grabbed one of the empty soul jars.

"Maybe so," I admitted. "But that day is not today. This body is wasted on white collar work. Anyway, you know the drill. Time for lube-- I want you to ride my cock while I sit here." He placed the jar underneath his hardening cock, ready to catch his load.

The first time we fucked in new bodies was always my favorite. Seth came first, coating the inside of the jar with a layer of jizz in addition to Blake's soul. I wasn't too far behind, since Harry's body was new to gay sex and still quite sensitive. I rolled off to the side and basked in the afterglow while Seth sealed the jar and placed it next to Harry's soul.

"Part of me still wants to be mad at you for almost ruining everything with that 'trial period' idea of yours," I said, as he laid down next to me to cuddle. "Next time we need to pick new hosts, we're picking one and done again. None of this trying out multiple bodies rubbish, it's too much risk."

Seth just smiled and ran his fingers through my hair. "Fine, no more shopping around, I promise. But you know you can't stay mad at me." As we laid there, holding each other tight, I had to admit that he was right.

[grimmweepers]

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃: OCT 1ST

— ♤ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Sebastian Michaelis x Female!Phantomhive reader

— ♤ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: reader is in her twenties, SFW but slightly suggestive, reader is ciel’s older sister who also has a pact with sebastian, reader wears a silk scarf around her neck to cover up her pact mark, confession, gothic, victorian english, forbidden love, power imbalance if you squint (masterxservant), timeline isn’t canon, calls you ‘my lady’, 2.7k wc

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

a/n: this piece is the soft opening for my kinktober event! it's SFW but worry not! the actual filth will come very very soon. enjoy the read! the title is named after this song

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: bound by duty and pact, sebastian has served you and ciel for years. but as forbidden desires grow, the line between lady and servant blurs. on a still night, away from the world's noise, your butler confronts you and you discover that love is both perilous and powerful.

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You never celebrate your birthday.

Your soul was traded long ago for a hand in retribution so now you'd prefer not to mark the passing of your limited years.

Each year was like another tally of how long it had been since the great fire, a stinging reminder of how long you've survived without your parents.

So while the rest of polite society makes birthdays an extravaganza with galas and banquets, you welcome another year by sending your staff on temporary leave and Ciel with them.

"Go into town and enjoy yourselves." 

This was non-negotiable but Ciel understood your reason better than anyone else. So off they went for their annual day of leisure—and bless the beating hearts of your servants for never questioning why you chose isolation as your way of celebrating. Distracting them with the best rooms at the local establishment was partially to blame.

When everything is said and done, the Phantomhive manor is always left sitting in a biting cold, allowing you to finally take in a fresh breath of solitude.

In the dead of night, the manor offered little light aside from the moon peaking through the windows, and with no maid or butler to tail you with a candelabra, your presence would only be known by the sound of your footsteps echoing in the halls. 

Each year on your birthday, you were no different from a ghost, only that you had a heartbeat.

You found yourself stopping at the ballroom entrance and after giving an almighty push to the wooden doors, they slowly groaned open.

Refined as it was, any semblance of glamour in this room disappeared when the doors shut behind you. The ballroom looked much smaller without its usual lighting; the shadows cascading from each corner made it haunting—almost derelict. Despite there being no party, you were still dressed for the occasion. 

Alone or not, you wouldn’t be caught dead looking poorly. 

Your pace remained slow as you strode toward the center, entertaining yourself with painfully accurate scenarios if you were hosting one of your usual gatherings. Poor Finnian would probably be running around, setting forget-me-nots to their respective arrangements; Baldroy would be cooking in the kitchen, trying his best not to light his dishes ablaze; Mey-Rin would be somewhere tripping over her own feet, and as for Sebastian…  Well, he’d be making sure it doesn’t get worse than that. As much as it pained you to praise Sebastian, he was always reliable even when faced with the toughest predicaments. Everything always seemed to run smoothly when he was around. 

This made you snort. 

Of course, Sebastian was reliable. His bustling duties are part of the contract and everyone would suffer if he were to breach it. 

Between the clicking sound of your shoes against the smooth hardwood, you thought about how many years had passed since creating your pact. Five years ago, you and your brother had nothing to lose except the one thing that made you humans—your souls. And even that was given up for him to be eternally bound to you.

The pact was purely transactional. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

At least, that’s what you’d been trying to convince yourself for the last year. You’ve been through enough adventures together to dull a weak heart. If he held back within the first few years to preserve your professional relationship, you could feel his restraint chipping away the longer you stayed together. 

Was it wishful thinking or was a demon truly fancying you?

While the butler occupied your train of thought, you hadn’t realized you stopped walking. You gave yourself a moment to brush away the last of your thoughts and remained in the centre of the floor. The silver moonlight nodded at you through the glass roof and with open arms, you suddenly spun in a complete circle, basking in the empty ballroom in all its glory. At that moment you felt so easy, so yourself, so—

Thump.

You snapped your head toward the sound, your heart racing only a little. It came from the staircase, but it was far too dark to see who caused it or what. All that ease you had just felt left as quickly as it came. 

“Who goes there?” You called into the void.

Another thump. Footsteps. 

You sucked in your breath, kicking yourself for not carrying at least a dagger. Oh well, you mentally shrugged. In cases like this, at least you had somebody to summon.

With no answer, the figure began to emerge from the darkness as it reached the foot of the staircase and what was revealed made you want to scream a string of curses.

That bloody tailcoat! 

You’d be able to recognise who that belonged to even if you wore an eyepatch like your damn brother. “Oh for God’s sake,” you mumbled under your breath.

“Forgive me if I startled you, my lady.”

“What the hell is going on? What are you doing here?! And who's with Ciel?" 

"May I suggest for you to calm down—"

"As I recall, I sent everybody on leave. That includes you.” 

With a gloved hand over his heart, Sebastian bowed earnestly, “Ciel is being taken care of. I understand your need for isolation but it’s not often good for your mental state, my lady. I thought I could provide you with some company even if you wish to remain stoic.”

“You’re going against an order.”

He approached you slowly as if his sudden presence wasn’t the only thing he had up his sleeves, “I know I am and I know you’re capable of punishment at a later time. I’ll be happy to accept it if that means you get to experience something other than loneliness and silence on your birthday.” With a hint of a smile on his lips, he glanced at the silk scarf you had neatly wrapped around your neck, “Should you feel uncomfortable, you have the power to stop me by force.”

“You’ve gotten quite bold lately, haven’t you?” You crossed your arms and sighed. “So what next? Do I need to walk you through my impressive list of things I do whenever I—”

“There’s no need,” Sebastian took his last step in front of you before the ballroom suddenly came to life. The moon still shone as your main source of light but as if a delicate veil had been lifted, soft, orchestral music rippled inside the hall. There was nobody else aside from the two of you but you felt as though an entire symphony was hiding in the shadows. Leave it to Sebastian to wield the pleasure of music as a weapon, especially when it was the one indulgence you could truly say you cherished. 

“I’m guessing this is your doing?”

He extended his hand as a subtle invitation, bowing as he did. 

“Guilty as charged, my lady.”

Slightly reluctant, you accepted his hand but not without question. “Are you trying to butter me up with a dance?”

“That depends on whether or not it’s working,” He answered as he pulled you into a gentle waltz. You both move with natural elegance, light on your feet while the music ebbs and flows, and the melody feels familiar to you like you’ve done this many times before. You’ve danced with a handful of Dukes and Barons but nobody has ever led you around a ballroom as gracefully as Sebastian. He whirled you in a full circle and then pulled you close to his chest. You huffed in response.

Sebastian resisted the urge to smirk, finding your flushed expression rather cute.

“I take it that you are displeased?” 

“No,” You dropped your shoulders, “But dancing with my butler wasn’t in my playing cards for tonight.”

“Yet here we are, waltzing in the ballroom,” he twirled you again before settling his hand around your waist, “Consider this a birthday present, my lady.”

You stared at Sebastian with confusion. He was the strangest person you’ve ever known. Despite him being the embodiment of somebody’s nightmare, you felt safe around him, but even more so when your eyes met. 

You hated it. 

“And why gift me something this year? What’s so different from previous years?” 

After all, he wasn’t always so stubborn.

He slid his hand to your lower back to gently dip you; as he reeled you back in, he held you closer than before, only stopping when your faces were inches apart. From here, he could smell a hint of your perfume and he could have sworn he felt your heartbeat. He hesitated for a moment as a tinge of guilt succumbs him, “Would you mind if I told you something… personal, my lady?”

You answered curtly with a nod.

“This year is different for two reasons. The first is that you’ve haunted my thoughts for quite some time now. And the second is that… you look especially beautiful tonight.”

Your feet had stopped shuffling at this point. You stood before him, ignoring that your heart had skipped a beat, “What are you trying to say?”

His eyes flickered over your face while his mind flicked over all the possible things to answer. Instead of responding to the question, he changed the subject slightly. 

“My Lady, have you ever been in love before?”

“I can’t say I have,” you blinked at him. “And what do you know about love, demon?”

You couldn’t help but assume that his version of love was wicked and cruel. You’ve seen him exploit the human condition more times than you could count. 

“I won’t pretend I’m an expert at love but in my long life, I could say I know things about it that you would hardly believe.” Sebastian smiled to himself, amused at the irony of being called a demon when these feelings were the most human they'd ever been. He traced small circles on your waist while shifting his other hand to the crook of your neck, never breaking his gaze as he freed the knot that kept your scarf in place. The scarf was discarded onto the floor but neither of you cared to look. “I’ve seen it in all forms and colours. Love is beautiful, despairing, and everything in between. Love can ruin everything you’ve ever built. It can be your biggest weakness or your greatest weapon. But more importantly, I know what someone looks like when they’re in love.” 

A brief silence followed as he allowed himself to take your hand once more and he could feel your grasp tighten so faintly when his lips hovered over your skin, “Pact or not, you have me wrapped around your little finger. But something is killing me. Would you like to guess what it is?” 

It was unbecoming of him but he kissed the back of your hand, leaving the pact mark on your exposed skin glowing — ultimately betraying every feeling you tried to suppress. You swallowed thickly before playing it off with a laugh.

“No. Enlighten me instead.”

“As you wish.”

Sebastian hummed as he began swaying you into a much slower version of a waltz, holding you so close you touched at the hip. He lifted your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his, but he was almost left entranced by how ethereal you looked with his mark on you. It wasn’t the first time seeing it but it was the first time he allowed himself to imagine the many other ways he could imprint you.

“Well, my lady, you have no idea how maddening it is to serve you, to watch over you, to constantly want to touch you, to hold you, while knowing that I cannot. It is pure agony. You could call that love, could you not?” 

You were barely able to continue speaking, the feelings you had also been hiding were threatening to bubble at the surface, “Well, I suppose you could.” While you rocked from side to side, he thumbed the skin around your jaw as if to ease whatever thought was wracking your brain.

Suddenly stepping away from you, Sebastian said, “Pardon my rudeness, but this is a reminder that my senses are far sharper than a human’s—” he then twirled you in three spins, and when you faced him for the final time, he caught you by the waist, “—so is it safe to assume you carry the same burden as I?”

This brought your waltz to a slow stop but the music continued to quietly play as if the ballroom became a whimsical world unto itself. As you got back on your feet, you rested your hands on his chest while your head hung low. It always frustrated you a great deal that he could read your soul like a book. All you could do was chuckle—earning a brow raise from the butler—but when you finally decided to look up at him, what remained of that chuckle was a rare and defeated smile. 

“You caught me,” you confessed.

In truth, he was surprised. He didn’t think your answer would come so easily, even letting out a quiet laugh of his own. Not counting your sadistic grins while you and your kin carried orders at the behest of the Queen, this was the first time he had seen you smile so genuinely in his presence—he couldn’t help but marvel at you. He found himself captivated by it but soon realised that despite your smile, you were just as flustered.

“I knew it,” Sebastian failed to prevent himself from squeezing your waist. No matter how many centuries had passed, humans always felt so fragile to him. You opened your mouth in a silent gasp but he leaned towards you, his voice a low whisper in your ear, “Now, I must tell you something else. However, you may deem it inappropriate.” 

A shiver went down your spine and even though you were aware you were alone, you quickly glanced around the room nonetheless, “As if this wasn’t already beyond inappropriate but be my guest.”

Sebastian carefully considered his next words but there was no way for him to conceal his desire any longer—he called your name but his voice was dripped with something you couldn’t put your finger on. “You’ve become so intoxicating, like sweet poison I willingly drink.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. All the words you had prepared died on your tongue immediately. Sebastian always prided himself on being a butler worth his salt, so in the years that you’ve been together, not once has he let formalities slip. You took a moment to think about the events that led you here and embarrassingly, the warmth you were already suffering with, deepened. He wasn’t addressing you as the Lady of the House nor as a butler. He was speaking to you as Sebastian Michaelis, a love-struck fiend.

His fingers brushed against your forehead gently, moving the hairs away from your eyes, studying you intently with a faint hint of wonder in his stare. He had always done his best to hide his attachment but you felt his arm around your waist growing more possessive,

“And seeing you smile—the sight of you is just mesmerising. It unravels me.”

You could feel the confusion and irritation and your mind melted down by his show of affection. “I wish the world would give me more to smile about,” you muttered in a heartbeat. 

As if your body had a mind of its own, you caressed his cheek and it was cold in comparison to your skin. 

“How damned am I to only smile in the presence of the wicked?” You continued. 

He closed his eyes and leaned into your hand—a low, contented hum slipped past his lips. If he could drift into a dreamless dream like this, he would. 

“Ah, but are you damned or destined?”

Under the cloak of night, you moved your hand against his lips, making his eyes flutter open in surprise.

What do you think, Sebastian? 

Now, it was his turn to smile. Sebastian began placing trails of hot, forbidden kisses down your fingers; you tasted soft and warm, drawing him in like a secret only the two of you shared. 

When he saw how all of the sharp edges and hard masks you used to hide behind were gone, he desired nothing more than to take you, hand in hand, towards a place with no promise of light. Despite it defying all conventions, Sebastian whispered with sincerity you had never heard from him before,

“A soul such as yours is so very tempting. Be it that you are doomed, I will enjoy burning with you to the fullest.”

a/n: thanks for reading! happy 1st of october!

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

networks: @pixelcafe-network @houseofsolisoccasum

dividers: @/astrumaur

[overtake]

Non-driver Maxiel AU where Max lives in London and is forced into a run club by George.

Warning: mention of vomiting

The sun is obscenely low in sky when George raps at Max’s bedroom door. It’s soft at first, then graduates into louder and louder pounding that Max can’t ignore, even in this hungover haze. He drags his heavy limbs to the shaking bedroom door and flings it open, hoping his visible rage and pillow-creased face make George fuck right off.

“What do you want?” 

George is perky, that irritating fucking smile accompanying clear skin and bright under-eyes. There’s no signs of last night’s adventures left on his face. He’s also wearing the ugliest, most neon green workout set Max has ever laid eyes on. The shorts are obscenely short. Max isn’t wholly convinced George isn’t aspiring for the sex offender registry if he wears those in public.

“You promised you’d attend run club with me,” George says. He begins dropping into little side-to-side leg stretches, and Max has to avert his eyes to avoid being flashed. 

“Mate, I absolutely did not do that.” If a criminal was holding Max’s family hostage and said the only way to save them was running a 5K, he’d have to beg the guy for a chance to say goodbye.

“Yes, you did,” George protests. “It was after that guy you hit on turned out to be straight.”

As if Max needed to be reminded of that part, which does come back to him quite clearly, along with the many g&ts he downed after.

George, rather unwisely, keeps talking. “I said it was a great way to meet people, then Alex said you wouldn’t last a single kilometre in a run club, and then you bet him 10 quid you could finish the run and agreed to come today.” 

Max blinks at him dumbly. To be fair, it does sound like the kind of stupid, competitive bet he’d get into with George’s new boyfriend.

They all technically work for the same company, but Max is in IT and Alex was always tech-literate enough to never need Max's help. Ever since Alex all but moved into this flat — which George's mysteriously wealthy parents pay for, so Max shuts his mouth and deals — they have become well acquainted. George has effectively weaponized their innate need to antagonize each other into fights over who can dry dishes faster, sort out the recycling best, and hang framed photos the straightest.

This, however, is a whole new level.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Max says. He moves to slam the door in George’s face, but George swiftly kicks his foot in the gap.

“Fine, but I’m telling Alex you backed out,” he threatens. He’s serious, too. He’s been begging them to join this run club with him for ages, but it’s been a losing battle against two people who hate both early wakeups and exercise. 

Max thinks of Alex’s smug, delighted face when Max is forced to hand over the money — and he’ll make a whole show of it, probably in front of all their co-workers — and grits his teeth. “I’ll fucking go, but I’m moving out.” 

“That loses its effectiveness when you threaten it every other day,” George informs him, then drops into a lunge that exposes his matching neon green briefs. This is going to be the worst morning of Max’s life.

They roll up to the meeting spot five minutes late and both extremely grumpy: Max at the whole situation, and George at Max because he apparently dressed too slowly. He’d dragged him by his wrist the whole way there. 

George is instantly greeted and swept away into a crowd of runners who could be his fucking clones, short shorts and all. Max briefly wonders if he can escape without George noticing, but as he begins a shuffle toward the edges of the group, someone catches his eye and begins walking over.

“You’re new!” he says, just as eerily enthusiastic as the rest of this group, like it’s not literally six in the morning. Max is beginning to wonder if he’s starring in a horror movie.

The man flashes perfect teeth at Max. At least he’s extremely beautiful. The least this group could do is give Max something worth looking at if they’re planning to ritually sacrifice him at the end. 

“I’m Max. George made me come,” he says, sticking his thumb out at his evil, detestable flatmate. Max will be unleashing the cats into George’s locked office, where he keeps his priceless collection of vintage teapots on display.

“Oh, he’s always talked about bringing his boyfriend! I’m Carlos. I founded this group.” 

Max tries to resist gagging at more than just leftover gin sloshing around his stomach. Judging by Carlos’ amused expression, he does not succeed. “Flatmate. Definitely not his boyfriend,” he corrects. 

Carlos runs a tan hand through his beautiful, flowing hair, and Max doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s not watching the movement. “Welcome, George’s not-boyfriend. Let’s get you sorted into a pace group. What’s your usual time?” 

“I haven’t run since I played football in school. I will be walking behind the slowest group.” 

Carlos laughs as if Max just made a hilarious quip, which is vaguely concerning seeing as he could not be more serious. “Just run at whatever pace works for you. We believe in pace inclusivity here. You’ll have Daniel over there hanging behind the pack today so nobody gets separated, and we’re just doing 5K today. You’ll be fine.” 

“Just 5K,” Max repeats flatly, but Carlos is already gone. Fuck his life. He’s swearing off all bets with Alex for the rest of time. 

He tries to get a peek at the mysterious Daniel that he’ll seemingly be spending loads of time with, but all he can see is the back of a worn navy cap, long sleeves, and tight compression leggings under shorts. At least he’s not an exhibitionist like George’s little neon crew. 

Carlos stands on a nearby bench, gets everyones attention with a clap, and starts on some monologue about the beauty of morning runs. Max tunes him out and wonders if it might have been a good idea to stretch.

When Carlos gets the run started, Max doesn’t even try to move near George. He lets himself fall back with the only other person who looks vaguely close to struggling. The dude's in an ankle brace, but still, Max is able to keep pace with him for a solid two minutes.

Things start getting a bit shaky 1K in, but Max can still see some of the other runners. He knows the run club pace guy should be somewhere behind him, but he can't turn around to check. If he pauses for even a second, there’s no way he’s making it through.

He’s definitely wheezing quite loudly, and his legs are cramping in ways he never thought possible. Every new step aches. His four-year-old worn down shoes probably couldn’t survive another London rainstorm, let alone an actual run. He knows the wrinkly t-shirt he wore to bed is probably completely drenched in sweat, but he successfully gasps through another kilometre.

Only three to go before Alex has to pay up, and that thought is pushing Max through. He’s almost completely lost track of the group by now, and he can hear the slow tread of the poor guy stuck with him getting closer. The guy — Daniel, he thinks — calls out to him as he approaches. 

“Mate, if you don’t mind, I’m just going to run beside you so you don’t veer off-path.” 

If Max could hear anything over the sound of his own heavy breathing, he might have clocked the Australian accent and familiar cadence. Instead, he focuses so hard on not tripping over a now-unravelling shoelace that he instead misses a giant fucking stick in his way and eats shit straight onto the pavement. 

He sits with his back curled over his scraped-up knees, trying to remember a time when his chest and lungs didn’t physically ache with every short breath. He can feel last night’s drinks and 2 AM kebab churning around his stomach.  

“Are you okay?” a kind, concerned voice asks. There’s a hand lightly touching his back, and it’s making Max feel sickly over-warm in his already burning body. 

Max turns, looks into Daniel’s eyes, and promptly vomits onto his ex-fiancé's pristine white shoes. 

[pearlywritings]

Courted by a... Hero?

synopsis: Diluc has feelings for you, but is under the impression that you do not reciprocate - his courting attempts show as much. But he comes to find out, that you are at ease around his alter ago... 

It won’t hurt to try and court you as the Darknight Hero. Right?

pairing: Diluc x fem!reader

tw: fluff, pining, courting, seemingly unreciprocated feelings, Darknight Hero!Diluc

word count: 3k words

a/n: this was suggested by a lovely anon~

Diluc Ragnvindr is enamored with you.

Diluc Ragnvindr thinks he is not that subtle about his affections. But it seems that he actually is, because otherwise the Master of the Dawn Winery does not understand how you manage to miss all the clues, all the longing gazes, all the small compliments and acts he does for you in attempts to hint that he'd like to court you.

Аpparently the longing in his eyes is lost in his regular stoic and a bit mournful expression, small compliments are so polite that it's not hard to mistake them for his gentlemanly antics, and his other actions are just a thread away from acts of service and help, which, given his сhivalry nature, do not stand out too.

Diluc doesn't get many opportunities to see you, since you do not visit the tavern often, but he tries so hard to make the meetings more numerous. An invitation to play cards at the Cat's Tail here and there, an insistence to walk you home, an offer to accompany you through the market as you go grocery shopping, always coming with an excuse of checking on the goods to tell Elzer later what purchases they should change for the Winery and its workers. Adelinde always smiles at him knowingly whenever some new dishes are added to his menu.

He is trying to show his affections to you, he really does, but he is too dense for that to come out exactly as he pictured it in his head. However, when you smile at him softly, accepting his offers, when you vent a little to him about a stupid coworker, when you stop at the Good Hunter to have supper with him - he thinks that the long process is worth it.

It's a great surprise, but the first time he gets an opportunity to hold you close is not a part of you dating him. No, your relationship is far from that, and his persona is hidden under the mask and a hooded cape, as he carries you bridal style. He is well aware of you staring up at him, but he can't make himself lower his gaze and meet with yours. He is just bringing you to a safe place after you twisted your ankle on a late evening run to catch a cat for your neighbor - a sweet old woman, whose pet seems to love escaping on an almost daily basis.

It's so hard to believe that he managed to be in the right place, at the right time, yet he chides himself for not arriving earlier - he could've caught you, preventing you from injuring yourself and falling. 

But it is such a quiet night… Maybe that's why he heard your painful yelp from two blocks away, rushing to help whoever got themselves in danger, and finding you sitting on the pavement and rubbing your leg.

"So… Mister Darknight Hero," he nearly groans at the name people gave him. He is intrigued by your lack of fear though, or at least worry, about some stranger picking you up and carrying you somewhere. The relaxed ring of arms wrapped around his neck only further proves it.

"Yes?" Diluc makes his voice gruff and low, still avoiding eye contact.

"Where are you taking me?" You sound curious, and the redhead can't help, but feel a bit aggravated - shouldn't you be concerned? Of course he is not taking you home - it'd be both creepy if a stranger knew your address and stupid, since your leg needs proper examination and treatment. Though still, you are so willingly accepting the masked man's help and entrust your fate in his arms fully, that it makes sarcasm evident in his words.

"On a late night date," he huffs with a slight roll of his eyes, letting his boldness out - something he can't allow himself to do often in the broad daylight as Diluc Ragnvindr.

"Oh really?" There is a hint of amusement in your tone, like you are enjoying his admission. "We've just met and you are bringing me on a date already? My, aren't you a forward man, Mister Hero. And where is this amazing place that's open so late? The tavern?"

"The hospital," Diluc does not realize it, but his cheeks are tinted pink, even if his voice remains inexpressive. However, he easily notices how relaxed you are in his hold, in his presence - even shooting teasing comments back at him and calling a date, well, a date. That's like more progress than he's had in the past month trying to court you.

Can it be… that he must change his approach? You, of course, can be attracted to completely different qualities in a man, and he should've taken it into consideration. Maybe this whole time he's been doing everything wrong.

Yet it’s too early to jump to conclusions, even if the winery owner slowly but surely grows desperate. To avoid false assumptions he decides to give it a proper thought tomorrow, after he visits you to check on your condition, bare of his alter ego.

As the morning comes and the sun gets brighter, Diluc is patiently waiting for the afternoon to see you. Half a day is enough for him to ‘receive the news’ about your condition however, but those several hours are excruciating. Are you well? Does your ankle hurt? Are you hungry? Maybe he should bring you food from Good Hunter… Are you thinking of him? Or…of tonight?

These thoughts are eating at his consciousness and when the midday eventually comes, the poor man looks exhausted. Lisa, whom he bumps into near the Alchemy stand, comments on it accordingly. Oh, but how fortunate it is, that she is the one to tell him about the events of last night and your current whereabouts.

“She looked ecstatic though,” the woman smiles, hands crossed and an intricate bell chiming on the tip of her large hat as she walks beside Diluc. “You should’ve seen that look on her face when she was telling me about the hero who saved her… Oh, but you will, won’t you? I am guessing you are going to pay her a visit.”

“You are correct,” the redhead nods, eyes trained on the today’s menu of the restaurant, as they get closer. “Right after I buy her some lunch.”

“A bouquet too, perhaps,” the smile turns teasing, emerald eyes glinting with knowledge. “I wonder when…” she pauses, but then decides against speaking what’s on her mind, shaking her head. “No matter. Good luck, Diluc.”

Luck? It’s such an abstract thing, something the wine tycoon doesn’t want in his life. If he needs something - he’d forge it with his own two hands, the ones that are currently occupied with a steaming meal and fresh flowers as he steps inside your chamber.

You are so lovely. Crimson eyes take in your resting form, basking in the sunlight from an open window. Warm rays kiss your cheeks and nose, falling right on the pages of a book he is sure Lisa has brought you. Tranquility suits you like the best of dresses and for a moment he gets lost in a scene before him, honored to be a part of it. 

That is until you lift your gaze and look at him and this time it’s your smile that makes the noble man go weak.

“Diluc! Hi,” your voice is so soft, bursting with excitement, which is also evident in how quickly you shut your book and put it away. This is a signal for the redhead to finally move closer and he eagerly takes this chance.

“I heard about what happened to you,” he offers you flowers and you gasp - a beautiful sound that touches the deepest strings of his soul. “I wanted to make you feel better. Also, I brought lunch.”

“Diluc…” There is appreciation in your tone, one, that strokes his ego. “You really didn’t have to, but I won’t decline the offer. Not to offend anyone,” you lower your voice, “but the food here is terrible.”

And he laughs. That’s a deep marvelous sound, that comes all the way from the confines of his chest, reserved for you only. Your giggles compliment it so perfectly, and when you hide behind the flowers, with only your eyes on display, shining and crinkling from joy - he falls in love even harder.

It almost feels like a date his nightly persona promised to take you on - flowers, delicious meal, his undivided attention… And even though it is not all that different from all the other times you spent together, this one feels far more special.

“So… You say you were saved by the Darknight Hero?” This question has been dancing on the tip of his tongue long before you even started to retell him the story of tonight. You nod vigorously, chewing on the most delicious chicken you’ve ever had.

“Mhm. And Archons, when I say this man is bold, he is bold.”

Your tone and the way your eyes just glinted… Can he assume you love such a character more? Should he…pursue you under the disguise of your savior?

He sure can try.

And try he does. Every night you would receive a masked visitor in your window. Every day Diluc would also come, to bring you fresh flowers, glorious meals and with hopes to know what you think of his other occupation. The Darknight Hero turned out to be charming. Diluc Ragnvindr is charming too, but it’s a different kind of charming - secure, understanding, reliable, loyal. While his alter-ego is mysterious, brooding, flirting and bold.

You seem to enjoy the latter. Why else would you wait for him, refusing to sleep, knowing that the Darknight Hero would come? Why would your eyes remain soft when gazing at an already not a stranger, yet not an acquaintance still? Why would you entertain his jokes and ask to tell you about what he does for Mondstadt? Watching him perch on the windowsill, chin resting on your fisted hands and purest interest written all over your face...

He was so right to ask the staff to move you to a different room with a bed close to the window. Doesn't matter he had to climb to the third floor, it's all in the name of love, however cheezy it sounds.

Only one question remains - how should he bring up the courting? Every normal woman would freak out if a man she barely knows (come on, even his face and voice are veiled) asked her out. Soon you'll be discharged, and climbing into your apartment's window is inappropriate too. The night strolls? No, he can't rob you of more sleep than he already selfishly does. But what should he do…

You seem to like it though, so there is absolutely no reason to complain.

You notice his silence. Curiosity replaces all other senses, just as it has been for all these nights you’ve spent with the man, and you cock your head to the left shoulder, observing, trying to guess what's behind the wall of his mind.

"What got you thinking so hard, Mr Hero?" At least you dropped using the whole title, which he is forever grateful for. "You look like someone who's trying to solve an extremely difficult case. Mind sharing? Maybe I can help."

Archons, you are so-so precious… and not completely wrong. He supposes, that since you’ve already started this conversation… He might just give it a shot. After all he is an entirely different man for you now, right? The straightforward one too.

Yet why is his heart thumping so wildly in his chest?

“I was… am wondering, if such a gorgeous woman, sitting in front of me right now, would let me court her.”

That’s it. The words are out, no turning back here. It feels surreal, true, but the male reassures himself that at least one issue is going to be out of his way, and whatever decision you’d make - he’d take it. Even if you angrily chase him out of the chamber.

However, it’s so hard to look you in the eyes - those pretty eyes that are filled with warmth and admiration, two things that are easy to turn into a freezing cold and disgust.

“You? As in the Darknight Hero?”

Here it is. Here is the implication that might as well as mean that whatever you two built during the few nighttime meetings is now ruined by a simple half-flirtatious suggestion.

All he can do is nod.

“I am sorry, Sir,” oh, the everlasting softness of your voice... Is that really how one delivers the rejection? “But there is already someone in my heart. I hope you will understand.”

Of course he does, no matter how painful it is. A delicate soul and a loving heart of yours can’t stay unoccupied, it would’ve been stupid to think so. Doesn’t matter the notion pierces his heart - he mustn’t take it close to it while wearing a mask.

“I apologize,” is all he can mutter, the voice suddenly slipping its usual gruffness, but no attention is spared to it.

“No need,” he is aware of the groan of the mattress as you shift, pulling your legs over the edge of the bed, and fully facing him now. “I am actually grateful for you being here to hear that. It’s been hard to keep it all in,“ this he understands even more. “Can I ask for a small favor?”

“Sure,” it’s the least he can do for making you uncomfortable.

“Can I whisper his name to you?”

The night is magical. There is no other explanation than its luring spell for why the man who’s just gotten rejected is sliding off the windowsill and moving closer to you to grant you your request. It’s also possible that your curiosity is contagious, but, Diluc does not dwell on it, he knows that the Darknight Hero wouldn’t.

Just as he doesn’t have time to react. A startled gasp is stuck in his throat, a hand shoots up, but it’s too late. Thick crimson bangs are spilling from under the pulled hood and ruby eyes widen in fright when the mask is pulled off of his face. He freezes in his bending position, staring at you in disbelief, fingers curled in a grasp not so far from his face. The face you know all too well. 

“Knew it,” you look content, twirling the beaked accessory between your fingers. Your smile is serene, and the image of a beautiful tranquility once again makes his heart skip a beat. What’s going on? Is this even real? Is there an option to let the ground swallow him whole? What do you mean ‘you knew’? Is it a good thing? Is it a bad thing? Is he screwed?

Archons, is your relationship screwed?

“Diluc,” it's his own name that shakes him back to reality. The blush creeps up his cheeks, mixing the blazing hues of embarrassment and shame.

“Yes..?”

You cock your head again, the smile getting wider.

“I promised the name of whom my heart belongs to, no? It’s Diluc. Diluc Ragnvindr. You.”

He swears he will faint right here and now. It must be a dream, it must be!

“You are thinking it’s a dream, aren’t you?” With a sigh you abandon the mask on the duvet, reaching out for his gloved hand, carefully tracing the back of it with the tips of your fingers. “Well, it’s not. And I am serious.”

“But-” He clears his throat, cursing the weakness in his knees at the barest of your touch. His mind is rushing, he can’t make logical conclusions, he can barely think with everything suddenly crashing and crumbling around him. So his heart takes over, bringing up his most sacred concern. “But I thought you were not interested in me.”

“Of course I am!” He flinches when the offense slips into your tone. “Of course I am, it’s just… you never asked me about dating. And I falsely assumed you are satisfied with what we already have.”

And he was. For the longest time, until it became obvious that he is not.

“When you saved me that evening I knew it was you. There is no mistake in the comforting warmth your body exudes, nor in the way you generally carry yourself. Also those strong hands… Can you name that many claymore users?”

You’ve known all this time?

“Forgive me for being selfish,” you chuckle sheepishly, unconsciously fiddling with his fingers, and Diluc finds it both cute and reassuring, calming even. “I kept you both during the day and at night for myself. I just wanted to know this side of you better. To know you better. And when you asked me under the disguise of the Darknight Hero… I just knew I wanted to hear that from the Diluc Ragnvindr.”

“In that case,” he lowers on his knee, clasping your hands in his and lying to himself that it’s not from how his body collapses with relief, clinging to you as if you’ll turn out to be just a piece of his desperate imagination, “I am selfish too. Because I was coming to you day and night with the exact same thoughts.”

“Does it make us a couple of selfish idiots, who clearly lack communication skills?” You giggle, and, Archons, what a splendid sound.

“I guess it does. Though I’d like the ‘couple’ part to become more real," giving your palms a squeeze, Diluc takes a deep breath, and with a new-found confidence makes his intentions clear. "Y/n L/n, will you go out with me?”

“Yes!”

The redhead cannot keep in his own laughter when you tug on his hands to draw him closer, to throw your arms around his broad shoulders and bury you face in his hair, smiling ear to ear. Gingerly he places his own palms on the small of your back, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder, and releasing a shaky breath.

Together. You are officially together.

And he is going to take his time with you.

taglist: @axerrri

[jjenthusee]

Empty Plates

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: I SUCCESSFULLY MOVED SO THATS WHY I WAS GONE FOR A HOT MIN but i wanted to give u something while we wait for Racing Hearts pt. 4 :D ENJOY comment if ur comfortable and let me hear ur thoughts \(^~^)/

Tags: hurt/no comfort, angst, sorry yall we gon cry together

Word Count: 1.3k

He left.

Jason was gone.

The apartment was cold. The only outline of him ever being there was the blanket pushed aside, curving around where he used to lay on the bed.

Everything was too good while it lasted.

No matter how many times he left without a word, it felt like it started to hurt less and less the more you didn’t see him next to you.

You’ve always heard how great other people’s relationships were. Too good to be true. It feels like a dream.

And they were right.

It was like a dream.

But Jason was only in your life like a dream.

Only in your bed late in the night.

Willing to be there when the moon rose.

And like a dream, he disappeared. Only like a memory.

They say that hate is worse than love, but the opposite of love was indifference.

And you had no energy to care anymore.

——

So you woke up.

Like any other morning.

Folding your blankets, face blank, heart blank.

You took out loose leaf tea, started prepping breakfast as the water boiled.

Your morning gray.

No music, no color, no Jason.

It was silent, only the sounds of water boiling, popping from the heat.

Your knife hitting the cutting board.

New cooking pans on the stove.

Your body going through the motions without a thought.

You couldn’t bring yourself to think, to feel.

You ate your breakfast, sitting at the table, watching the traffic go by.

Steam hitting your face from the cup as you let it warm your fingers.

No one sitting across from you.

No second mug to mimic yours.

No legs and knees bumping into yours.

You didn’t have any appetite anymore.

You mentally reprimanded yourself for wasting food, but you dumped the rest in the trash, getting nauseous from the sight.

Putting any dirty dishes in the sink.

Chores can be completed later.

You sullenly grabbed some clothes, getting in the shower.

You stood, letting your head feel the water pressure hit your scalp.

You broke.

You slowly fell to the shower floor.

Water running down your face as you sobbed, quietly weeping to yourself.

Your tears mixing with the warm water.

Memories flooded your mind.

“Jaybird, I want to get new cooking pans.” You wrapped your arms around Jason as he cooked.

“Why? These are still in good condition.” Jason continued flipping your small pancakes on the pan.

“But I want a new set that we bought together now that we moved.” You nuzzled your face into his back.

“Hm.” Jason hummed at the warm feeling of you behind him. “We can get a new set today. Something you like.”

You smiled into his shirt.

“Thanks, Jaybird.”

Then you got ready. Fixing your hair, brushing your teeth.

Ready for work.

Like nothing happened.

——

It had been two weeks.

No sign of Jason.

No messages. No calls. Nothing.

You rarely ate. You called in sick from work after you were wearing yourself out.

Reaching your limit of filling your time with anything, but Jason.

Forgetting to brush your teeth, no longer changing out of your lounging clothes, staring out the window from the table.

You did drink water, your stomach not tolerating anything else.

No music playing anymore.

It was quiet.

Only the upstairs neighbor’s footsteps filling the silence.

Your face was pale, it felt like your cheeks were hallowing out.

Eyes tired.

You refused to let yourself reach out to Jason first. Countless times before you had called, texted, done something.

But you didn’t wanna do any of it anymore.

No longer following Jason.

You went to the bathroom. Slowly having the energy to walk.

Shutting yourself in there, the walls feeling small, you blankly watched the mirror.

An unrecognizable expression that only visited during the bad times.

You sighed, splashing water on your face.

The floor creaking as you walked back.

When you made it back to the table, you sat down in the same chair, looking at the same cup, watching the same window.

Not acknowledging anything.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Jason said. Sitting across from you. He sounded confused, his expression probably wasn’t any different, but you didn’t know.

You didn’t bother looking.

You almost flinched from his voice. You almost convinced yourself he was an illusion.

“Yell?” He questioned. “Anything?”

You stayed quiet. Staring out the window.

When was the last time you took a walk?

“Please say something.” Jason pleaded in front of you.

It was too hot these days, but if it was cloudy like today, maybe you should start walking soon.

You still stared out the window, taking a sip from your cup.

“Nothing?” Jason’s frustration peaking into his voice.

You needed some exercise.

“Sweetheart.” Jason firmly impeded your thoughts.

You sighed.

“I’m tired.” You softly spoke.

“I came back because I was worried.” Jason explained.

Your frustration building. Trying to balance out your nonchalance and anger.

“It’s so noisy.” You flatly said to yourself.

“But things were supposed to be okay, I made sure—“

You angrily set the cup down, water splashing from the impact. The cup cracking, water leaking onto the table.

You continued to look out the window. Not acknowledging the mess around your hand.

“I don’t know if you realize this, Jason, but my world stopped the day you left. I stayed up countless nights worried if there was something wrong, if you were hurt, if I did something wrong—“

“Of course not—“

“I know! I realized that I did my best. I stupidly loved you and I didn’t know what to do when you left me. Again.” You watched two kids bike on the sidewalk. Laughing in their joy.

“I was scared!” Jason stammered, voice straining. “I didn’t know what else to do, so I left!”

“Then what are you so afraid of?!” You closed your eyes, lowering your head into your other hand. The last thing you saw was one of the boys falling, scraping his knee on the pavement.

“It’s because you made me realize that I can be more!” His voice rose. “I realized that maybe I don’t just want to be Red Hood!” Jason paced, recklessly brushing his fingers through his hair.

You froze, listening to his ramble.

“I want to be more. I want to have something other than Red Hood and it’s scaring the absolute shit out of me.” Jason paused, taking his hands out of his hair.

Jason hunched forward trying to make himself as small as possible. Tightly wrapping his arms around himself.

“—the Red Hood helmet.” Jason whispered, so soft you barely heard the end of his sentence.

“What?” You breathlessly responded, keeping your head down, unconsciously mimicking Jason’s soft voice.

“For the first time, I wanted to take off the Red Hood helmet.” He meekly looked at you. His eyebrows crushed together in a horrified look like he, himself, was just realizing this fact.

Your chest stung. You’ve never heard Jason so terrified, trembling in fear, voice shaky.

“I don’t know if I can take off my helmet. I can’t be anything without it.” Jason admitted.

“So you decided to leave, to never say anything, to let me continue my life like you weren’t there?” You harshly told him.

“Yeah, I ran, but I checked on you. Making sure nothing happened as you walked to work, but every day I saw you looking worse.” Jason moved again, but you didn’t want to lift your head. “It never got better, so…I came back. Dammit, look at me!”

He slammed his fits on the table, the cup shaking in your harsh grip.

You lift your head. Staring straight into his eyes.

Jason looked terrified. Angry, yes, but absolutely terrified.

It almost made you laugh from disbelief.

“Whether you take off the helmet or not…” You hesitated. This was it. No more caving in. You leveled your voice, firm and harsh. “Doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

Silence.

The cup shattering in your hands, cutting your hand.

It stung.

Neither of you looking down first, until Jason broke eye contact.

He reached for your injured hand.

You got up, avoiding his touch, walking to the cabinet underneath the kitchen sink. Grabbing the first-aid kit.

Dripping small drops of blood on the floor.

When you turned around, you flinched.

He was gone.

Again.

Like another dream.