#so while that one bakes in my brain for a bit ill work on the analogical one

[rattys-prinxiety-countdown]

It has been 37 days since Prinxiety last interacted

[dckweed]

ROSIE!, alpha!simon riley x omega reader

in which captain price sends alpha simon on a much needed vacation to his secluded countryside cabin, but leaves out a most important detail- he has a live in omega caretaker to care for his little cabin when he’s away! and she’s the prettiest, sweetest little thing that simon ever did see..

warnings: alpha/omega universe, mentions/depictions of abuse, smut, pregnancy, kind of forced proximity?, ill add as i go...please note that i know NOTHING about COD but i am in love with the 141 guys and this has been rotting in my brain.

this will be a series, as well as there will be side stories for gaz, soap and captain price!

part one: over the garden wall and to the stream to die

It was a pretty day, the sun shone brightly down on your typically pale skin, staining it a light shade of red (you’ll loathe yourself later for not wearing sunscreen, cheeks, neck and shoulders red despite your large gardening hat that you put on for shade), it twinged a bit, but you didn’t mind. You were enjoying the garden, it had become lush and full over the past couple of weeks, the sun (despite its wrath on your skin) feeding the various plants and bushes with its light, making everything vibrant and fragrant. You were making your own arrangement of flowers, picking up some yellow roses and a few pansies, in hopes that it would make the kitchen of the cabin all the more cheery for the guest that would be arriving that day. 

You had received a message from your boss (for lack of a better word for the alpha that employed you to live in his home) the night before about an arrival, a guest come to lay low and spend the summer. You assume it’s another Alpha, one of the lot he had told you he worked with on his little task force and while it makes you nervous to be alone with an unmated Alpha that you don’t know, you know that John wouldn’t put you in any danger knowingly. With trust in the man that sent you a fat lump of money every other week, you had no qualms about welcoming the unnamed guest into the cabin. 

You had already turned down the guest bed, fresh linen adorning the mattress, and tidied up the whole house, and you even had a plate of fresh cinnamon rolls baked from scratch sitting out on the small table in the kitchen and it wasn’t even noon yet. Anticipation was beginning to eat you alive, a nervousness settling into your muscles that just made you ache for something to keep you occupied (a trait that got you many a beating by your papa’s hands when you were growing up, his voice still in your head calling you an annoying runt as he took the belt to any part of you it would reach), you hum as you continue to work, the pale blue of your pretty little sundress getting dusted by dirt every time you crouched down, your bare knees covered in the black soil of the garden. You didn’t mind, you liked the way the sun felt on your skin and the ground beneath you, you went for so long without feeling either that you would embrace both happily without complaint. 

Your bouquet was slowly becoming a large bunch, beautiful petals hanging over the edge of your little wicker basket that you brought along to carry the trimmings back inside in, not wanting to squish them in your hand the whole time, and you were just snipping through the last of a beautiful rose stem when you heard the garden gate squeak open, you pop your head above the bushes and look, eyes met immediately with a hulking form of an alpha, his forearms laden with a large duffle bag and a mask pulled over his eyes. 

“Who the ‘ell are you?” They’re brown and beautiful and they’re narrowed at you, looking about you, deciding if you’re a threat or not. Just like the rest of his body, his voice is thick and strong and deep. It verberates in your brain, the sound of his voice rattling around in there. Your breath catches and your cheeks flush and you have to avert your eyes, the little wolf in your brain barking at the sight of this man standing before you in the garden. 

‘He’s so strong, so pretty, look at him, look at him, look at him!’

“‘Ello?!” You jump, swallowing a thick lump in your throat, that nervousness in your body boiling up. The only thing that comes out at first is a squeak, and you close your eyes, cheeks flushing even farther. “You mute or somethin’ there Rosie?” A dig at the color of your cheeks you’re sure because there’s no way that he knew that that was what John and everyone else you’d ever met had taken to calling you if he didn’t know who you were. 

“I-um-..” What was wrong with you? “I..live here..” That was it? That was all you could come up with? ‘Not even your fucking name?’ 

“Like ‘ell you do.” Your bottom lip quivered, the gruffness of his voice scarring you more than you already were. Your knees shook but you straightened yourself up otherwise, your fathers voice ringing in your head about how spineless you were. 

“I do. I’m sure you’re the guest that Alpha John told me was coming, but he certainly didn’t mention how rude you were!” You huff, turning on your bare heel to stomp your way through the garden and back to the cabin, though you wanted nothing more than to climb over the garden wall and drown yourself in the stream not too far off from the house. Oh how badly you wanted to die from the embarrassment, but even more so you wanted to throw your bouquet of flowers to the ground and stamp on them, throw your fresh baked cinnamon rolls into the bin even, all of the things that you had done for the mans arrival to make the cabin nice and inviting and relaxing and all he could do upon meeting you was make fun of your reddened skin, flushed from embarrassment! Alpha’s could be brutes, you knew, but they didn’t have to be so rude!

‘Oh but cut him some slack, he’s so pretty, he looks tired..maybe he just needs a hot meal in his belly and his dick sucked..’ You gasp at the voice of your wolf, never had she been so crude! “No!” You shouted both in your mind and outloud, slamming your wicker basket down onto the wooden top of the island as you went about searching for the kitchen shears, not even bothering to listen to see if the man was following you. ‘Did you see how thick his thighs were? His arms? I bet he could hold us up with ease-’ 

There’s a shuffling of footsteps behind you and a clearing of a throat that interrupts your wolfs inner monologue. You turn around, not to acknowledge the Alpha standing in the doorway of the kitchen, the light of the sun shining brightly behind him through the open door, but to grab the fresh bunch of flowers you’d so graciously picked for the beast. They were beautiful, you didn’t have it in you to not trim up the stems and put them in a pretty vase. 

You keep your eyes planted on the work at hand, trimming each stem one by one and setting it off to the side. He shuffles in that spot for a moment longer, but you don’t look at him like you know he wants. He huffs after a few more seconds and you hear his footsteps taking him up the stairs, the smell of him wafting so strongly through your nose as he passes by you to get to them that you have to grip the edge of the counter so tightly your knuckles turn white. Your wolf nearly taking control of you completely, wanting to follow him. She’s chanting in your head about his smell and how she just wants to drop to her knees for him, let him do whatever he so pleased as long as it made him happy. 

She had felt that way about Alpha John at one point in time too, and just like that, you knew it would pass and she would calm down once she got used to his presence. 

You would just have to ignore her until then. You were good at that, ignoring her. Your father had beat it into your head because you were an omega that you were nothing, that you didn’t even deserve a wolf, and you had believed him. Had ignored her and your natural instincts for more than half of your life, until John came along. Until he saved you. And now here you were, living in his home, making it nice and homey and putting meals on the table for a man whose name you didn’t even know. 

Wasn’t that a funny thing?

Heavy footsteps echo above you as you work, and you begin humming, attempting to shut him and the annoying second voice out of your head. You take your time as you arranged the bundle of flowers, you had picked such a big bunch that you had enough for two full arrangements and you were just placing one of them in the middle of the round table that sat by the stairs in the kitchen when you heard his footsteps coming back down, a heavy pitter patter that sent your heart racing, but you were ready to face him now, to welcome him into the cabin. You suppose your wolf was right, he needed a hot meal, and who were you to turn away from cooking someone in need a good belly full of food?

He clears his throat again when he comes off the bottom step, from your peripheral you can tell that he’s fully facing you, large meaty hands on his thick, muscled hips. He wore a dark green tshirt that stretched so tightly over his muscly chest that you were sure it would rip, and it hung just barely above the waistline of his jeans, that fit him so snugly you weren’t sure how they hadn’t ripped already. 

“Listen, lovie, s’pose I was a bit rude back there, yeah?” You say nothing, but look up at him fully now, making eye contact as your hands still fidget with the glass vase you had set so neatly in the middle of the table. “‘name’s Simon..I work with your Alpha..”

“S’not my Alpha.” You say pointedly, and under the mask he still wears you can tell a smile is spread across his face at your words. “And neither are you, so don’t go getting your hopes up. You’ll be keeping your big paws to yourself while you’re here, or i’ll be telling John.”

“Yes Ma’am.” He says, his body seeming to relax now that you’ve spoken a full sentence to him. “What can I call you?” 

You sigh, cheeks heating. “Ironically, most people call me Rosie.” You say, turning away. You didn’t know what your actual name was, your father had never called you anything but Runt or Omega, and your siblings always followed in his suit. You were content to go by whatever John wanted to call you whenever he finally came to your rescue, who were you to argue with the man who had saved you?

“These for anyone?” He’s pointing to the plate of cinnamon rolls when you look over your shoulder, setting the second vase on the window above the kitchen sink. 

“Help yourself.” Your voice is soft, gentle, a smile spreading when you begin to talk about the food you had made. “Made them from scratch, strawberry cream cheese icing and everything!” 

He moans as he bites into them, and you’re sure he’s putting on a big show as a form of apology but either way it prickles you in the best way and puts a big happy grin on your face. “Jesus lovie,” He groans. “I’m gonna be fat by the time i leave, arent i?”

[delta-lethonomia]

For the pairing prompt—Lae’zel/Gale is a rare pair that’s always held a special place in my heart ❤️

Lae'zel/Gale is super cute! I can totally see that working. Tbh I do think Gale is a little old for her and they're very much at different stages in life, but Lae'zel has such "straight A athletic valedictorian who also read the entire library" energy that they have more in common that one might initially expect. Plus, Gale's so interested in Githyanki, he's the nicest and most interested in Lae'zel by far. I always got the impression in-game that she was fond of him.

Honestly, I think the best genre would be romantic comedy. Domestic, hallmark-style romcom. Post-game, with Lae'zel staying in Faerûn with the gith baby, she's out and about being hunted by Vlaakith's forces. Maybe it starts to get to her. Maybe baby Xan gets ill and Lae'zel realizes she has no idea what to do about it. Maybe she just happens to be near Waterdeep and so she shows up at Gale's doorstep, bedraggled and rain-soaked, holding a wailing child.

Of course, Gale takes her in. Anything for a friend! Only problem is, his mother is in town, and Morena Dekarios is very interested in this young single woman who shows up at her son's doorstep with a baby.

While I do think Gale has had success with some romantic endeavors, I think he's also the sort of have inadvertently kept people at a bit of a distance - like yes, he'll cook a lovely meal for them, but they'll only do dates on Friday nights and it never turns into a multi-day sleepover type of affair. Like you'll have a great time, but Gale keeps returning your bras and toothbrush every time you "accidentally" leave them at his place. Freshly laundered, neatly packed, but there's no open space for someone to wiggle their way into his heart, not truly.

But with Lae'zel, there's none of this distance. She's very neat, but uncompromising with fitting her things into his home for the duration of her stay. Maybe baby Xan really just needs to stay in one place for a few months while his baby immune system builds up and he becomes a toddler. Gale's fascinated, of course - while I think he can be a bit awkward and uncomfortable with children, Xan's really nothing more than a potato at this point, and his needs and wants are fairly predictable. Plus, babies are fun in the sense that you can practically see their little brains churning as they take in more information, and I think Gale would enjoy seeing that development happen in real time, watching Xan get smarter and smarter by the week.

So Gale's initially more interested in the baby. He's taking Xan to other academics, showing him off ("How often do you get to see a baby Gith, truly? He's no more a fearsome marauder than I am! Be mindful of the teeth, he's quite bitey--") while Lae'zel languishes. She has no clue how to be at peace, living in Gale's cozy and overstuffed tower. So naturally, Morena finds things for her to do. Morena treats her as she would any other young woman, and tries to bond in that way - they go to the market together, bake some bread, Morena tells her all sorts of tales of her life, tries to figure out if there's any young paramour in Lae'zel's life....

...and Lae'zel is just so Lae'zel about it all. There are some fine warriors in Faerûn, yes, Gale included, but she won't be distracted from her duties of raising Xan and providing him a future. She takes to baking with ferocity, timing her meditations with proofing times. Morena gives her a jar of homemade jam made from berries in her yard that are only in season for two weeks out of the year and they fall into an in-depth discussion on the ridiculous amount of forethought and long-term planning running an actual homestead involves. There's so much detail in gardening that I think Lae'zel might fall down a rabbit hole of reading the Farmer's Almanac cover to cover for lack of anything else to do, only to realize she's mentally planning out a garden plot for a home she doesn't have.

Githyanki have fine artisans, yes, but they are primarily concerned with metalwork, literature, and other imperishable goods; when they leave the astral plane, they acquire foodstuffs and cloth through conquest and rarely, through trade. She's never had to consider all the effort invested to make a hank of yarn, the months of waiting to produce the ingredients of a potato stew. It's a cycle of life and death that is not entirely alien, but one she hasn't had to truly interact with, but now seems all too real with every change in Xan's appearance and behavior.

Basically I think Lae'zel has both the intense dedication and appreciation of meditative repetitive activities to be a really good crafter. She's trying new things. Going by her hair and poetic inclinations, Lae'zel has an aesthetic appreciation, it's only lurking beneath the surface and ready to be unlocked. Morena is charmed by her, because Lae'zel is very charming, and before you know it they're great friends as Lae'zel absolutely enjoys being the teacher's pet, and that's the closest analog she has for Morena. They bully Gale together and it's cute.

Inevitably, Gale has some sort of party to attend, perhaps a holiday party, and he asks Lae'zel to go with him and doesn't think about it. Naturally Lae'zel looks amazing in a dress, she's intimidating and gorgeous, and maybe someone snarks at Gale for something - being the washed-up Chosen of Mystra and now downgrading to a teaching position, wow (because you just know some of Gale's peers think he's an absolute dickhead, with his whole "oh no I could definitely teach every class, and better than the people you already employ" nonsense) and Lae'zel throws down in an instant. She'll eviscerate them with a butter knife. On your knees, wizard, or she'll hamstring them for daring to think themselves a better man than Gale.

Anyway Gale's smitten lmao. He's not blind to her being attractive, he does flirt with her a fair amount in-game, but he had no idea she thought so highly of him. All of a sudden, she's not just Lae'zel visiting for a few weeks/months - she's a very pretty young woman that accompanied him to a party as his date, whose child he's looking after, who just threatened his colleague in his defense in an instant with no shame whatsoever, that his mother likes. Literally, it's a switch that flips. All of a sudden, Lae'zel is.... an option.

But of course, all things must come to an end. Xan gets over his cold, Lae'zel starts to get that itch for violence again, either way, they need to get back to it. Gale watches them go mournfully while Morena shakes her head at his idiocy and Lae'zel's obstinacy.

Lae'zel sets out with Xan and is almost immediately attacked. She fights them off, but it's an ill-omen of all that's to come. The fights seem endless and grueling. Xan's no longer used to being in the cold, outside; he's fussier, he misses Morena and Gale both, he misses being warm and watching the sparkly lights Gale would conjure for him and all sorts of things his little baby brain can't really express to her. But Lae'zel's stubborn, and she pushes through it for a month, two months--but it wears on her. She doesn't get any peace.

At the epilogue party, she sees Gale again. He's looking well. He's ever so pleased to see her, and he packed a little gift for Xan, and his mother sent him along with another gift for Lae'zel, something practical that she would enjoy, something they bonded over, and all of a sudden Lae'zel cannot understand what she is doing with her life. She wanted to enjoy all that Faerûn had to offer, see the world in all of its colors, but without fail she keeps choosing only death and blood. She wanted to give Xan something different, but instead all she's done is make him miserable. A battlefield is no place for a baby, even a githyanki one. Even her creche kept their young protected until they could hold a sword.

Haltingly, with great difficulty, Lae'zel asks Gale to accompany her. There's one last Gith stronghold nearby as far as she can tell - perhaps she doesn't have to do it alone. And Xan would love to see him, of course, he keeps grabbing at her shirt and then looking disappointed when it's not the velvet material that Gale so often wears - and of course Gale accepts, he can take time off whenever he pleases, or it's the end of the semester regardless--

So naturally they go together on a fun romantic adventure to thoroughly destroy a Githyanki stronghold. Gale gets to stretch his magic and Lae'zel is incredibly turned on by the destructive power he wields with a baby strapped to his chest. Their first kiss is backlit by a roaring Wall of Fire underneath Gale's Globe of Invulnerability, a quick moment stolen as Xan slumbers in his sling, lulled to sleep by the sounds of battle--

--and Lae'zel accompanies Gale back to Waterdeep, ready to try a new type of adventure.

(Look ok I know it's insanely sweet but both Lae'zel and Gale are both incredibly sweet when you get down to it. It's gotta be a hallmark romcom. There was simply no other option!)

[the---hermit]

29|11|2023

I've been feeling quite ill and unfocused today. In the morning I did get a bit done but my afternoon was only made up of a failed attempt at doing some uni reading. I gave up pretty quickly on it and decided that taking my meds and lying down for a while was the best option.

cozy hobbit autumn activities and productivity:

read first thing in the morning

finished rereading and writing notes for the article regarding Richard II for my English lit class

baked cinnamon rolls (this also works as self care in a way because it was a good way to shut my brain off, but also to take time off studying since I wasn't focusing well and still feeling productive, plus at the end I'll get a little treat which is always a plus)

slowly started brainstorming and collecting ideas for the lecture I will guest in at the end of next month to share my thesis experience and I also started rereading my thesis diary posts which are proving to be very helpful (last night before bed I already started to regret accepting and getting imposter syndrom but I am trying to fight it)

read a few pages of one of my philosophy books and gave up after 10 or so pahes because I was feeling too ill to focus

caught up with a couple of podcasts

Irish practice on duolingo

today's self care:

took my meds and supplements

arranged my to dos around the fact that I am still quite ill and cannot focus as much as I normally would (so more breaks and changing what I am doing according to how I feel)

📖: Odyssey by Homer, Philosophy in the Boudoir by Sade

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

i feel like when I have sweets like if I bake or get something from the store they’re gone really quickly. like usually in 2-3 days unless it’s really big. and i feel like everyone i know will have like 1 or 2 cookies or 1 cupcake and be done but ill have like 4 cookies or 2 cupcakes and i know im not really over eating in one sitting but like if i have 10 cookies ill have like 3 after lunch and 3 after dinner and so after like 2 days they’re gone and i worry that this is abnormal and that I eat too much. im like 4 years in recovery for anorexia & sugar still makes me really anxious so i never have it in the house and i know this probably contributes to my eating it really quickly but is this abnormal? I don’t really know how to just have like 1 bite of something and move on

Hi! So I know I've been letting this hang out in my inbox for a bit while I dealt with some stuff in my life. I hope my advice is still relevant.

Biologically we're hardwired to crave sweet things, but it can get a bit difficult when we're bombarded with messages that sugar is bad. It's more complicated than that, and I don't think it's healthy to guilt over having sugar.

I also don't think it's healthy to compare your eating habits to others, but it's true that anorexia and restriction recovery can lead to struggles to slow down on certain foods, compulsions, and bingeing, at least that's what happened for me. But if this doesn't feel like a binge - like, being unable to stop, not slowing down to properly enjoy the food, eating to the point that you don't feel good - then I don't think that's what you have to worry about.

What you need to check in with is how your body feels after these foods. Only your body can tell you if you're eating something too much. Do you still feel fine after eating the sweets? Or is your body feeling like you need different habits?

Something you could try doing, without counting the calories or doing anything restrictive like that - if you feel like you literally can't control yourself around certain foods, you could bring smaller numbers of treats into the house. Do keep them around, don't deprive yourself, that'll get you into a cycle of food guilt and build up too much anticipation around being "allowed" these treats. It sounds like that's what might be going on with you right now - you never keep them around, you build up a lot of anticipation over when you will be "allowed" to have sweets, and then when you get them, your brain immediately is like "We can have the sweets! We can have the sweets!"

So don't eschew them, but do keep them around in smaller portions if you really do feel you're unable to control yourself. Practice savoring and really enjoying the portions you do have, using deep breaths. Try to avoid eating while staring at a screen - instead, be present with the treat and allow yourself to truly enjoy every bite. I wouldn't recommend you think of this as a self-punishment or a "bad" food - more of a practice in enjoying the wonderful treats that you have. However, if you're going to try this, I recommend you work with a professional - did you have professional help when you were initially in anorexia recovery? If you still see a counselor, I recommend you get advice and perform check-ins with the counselor, as any sort of restrictive pattern or food craving can trigger guilt and an urge to relapse in us.

No matter what you decide to do - cut your sweets, or let it be - do remember that craving sweets is not "bad" and has no moral value. Our bodies are literally hardwired to crave it, and that's just our bodies trying to keep us alive.

[the-septic-maniac]

In Those Moments

(Spoiler warning for S1 and S5 of CC and trigger warnings for sewerside thoughts, hospital settings, and needles. Special thanks to @cornerstoneeeee who kinda inspired me indirectly to write this and to @blugnettabutterflies for encouging me to write this. After several hours, 4 shots of espresso and a grilled cheese sandwich here's the finished story. for a better experience, please listen to the songs I linked. I hope you enjoy ^^)

“Why did they have to help me?” Jones asked himself lying in the hospital bed. He didn't want to be here anymore. He didn't want to live after losing his girlfriend who meant so much to him. Clair De Lune slowly plays in the background as his colleagues chat worryingly about him. He stared at the sterile white walls that surrounded him. He could feel the IV needle that was in his arm, pumping whatever fluid was needed into him just to barely keep him alive. The smell of the sterile environment stung in his nostrils. It smelled of nothing but at the same time his brain, at least with what little he was functioning with, tried to piece what it was. The sounds of the heart monitor rang in his ear. Everything felt like it was lasting forever. He just wanted to be gone already. He started to think “Maybe if I just close my eyes ill finally be gone… Or wake up to that this entire case was just one tremendous nightmare.” he nervously chuckled at the last bit as he started to fall asleep.

“Sir? Detective Jones?” He started to rustle awake at the sound of his name being called out. Upon finding the origin of the voice, he was greeted by Mia Loukas, her scars and injuries even showing up in death. “Ah thought you had passed out again sir” Jones never really interacted with Mia outside of when she came in to report a situation that required his attention. Looking around, he noticed that he was no longer at the hospital. It sure as hell smelled like he was somewhere else as well. It smelled of fresh coffee and baked goods. A song played in the background that he only faintly recognized from a Japanese murder mystery game. He couldn't quite place his finger on it. The place had a homey feel to it. Pieces started to fall into place for him. They were in a local coffee shop in downtown Grimsbourgh. “Sir, please don’t give up yet” Mia spoke in a calm but serious voice. “Huh?” Jones had dazed out while trying to absorb the atmosphere of where he is. “Am I dead?” he said in a nervous yet hopeful tone. “Not quite sir. But if I and a few others don't help you, you will be.” Jones looked down, a shadow obscuring his face. “I don’t need anyone’s help…” Mia sighed in frustration. “Look I know you barely know me but let me try to help you. I may have been some beat cop but I and many others on the lower parts of the force and probably some of the higher parts look up to you. Heck often times when I am on patrol, ill hear civilians talk about the deeds that you and Player did five years ago. You inspire people.” 

He sat there in silence. “How could I of all people, inspire people? Player did most of the dirty work” Mia scowled at that comment. She grabbed his face and stared directly into his eyes. “I bet you dimes the dozen that Player would not have been able to do it without you. Heck, I bet you that the player was inspired by you more than most of us on the force which drove them to work harder. Plus without you, so many people wouldn't have the courage to stand up for themselves. Close your eyes and listen to the conversations around you” Doing just that, tears started to form in his eyes. Little kids talking about how they wanted to become detectives like him and people talk about how much they respect him for what he does. In his metaphorical heart, it felt like a little flame had been lit. it wasn't big but it wasn't exactly small either. “I don't understand fully…” he said softly. “I guess you won’t fully right now. Our time is up. It's time for you to go back to the real world for now” Shaken by the sudden cut off he tried to try and talk with Mia more but it fell on deaf ears as his surroundings faded out and him drifting to sleep again.

As he started to wake back up he was greeted by the same white walls, the beeping of the machines, and the smell. Clair de Lune seemed to be playing a bit faster. Not much faster than last time but just a bit. He had a visitor. It was Player. They chatted with him about miscellaneous things. After a bit, they left him as something had come up. Before they left they had said “I couldn't have done it without you when I first started all those years back. With the Order. Had it not been for you being such a great inspiration and partner, I don't think I would have joined the force in the first place.” Jones felt the little flame in his heart get a bit bigger. 

After a few more visits and nurses checking up on him, he started to drift asleep again.

“David? David! Wake up!” a voice called out to him. As he woke up, he was greeted by Nathan. “Huh? Nathan?” A sigh came from them. The location was different from the last time. It was relatively small. Both of them were the only ones present in the room. Small, plain, on the ground cupboards were on one side of the room. On top of those was a microwave and a small radio playing jazz. A yellowish-white fridge that was seemingly in disrepair was in the corner of the room. Opposite of that was a water cooler. It smelled slightly musty because of old water in the cooler. The walls had peeling paint revealing tacky old wallpaper. They were in one of the old break rooms. Nathan was the first one to speak about the situation. “David, I know you have heard this a lot as late and it's likely as dull as a frosting knife but please don't give up.You have no idea how many people you have impacted on the force as their friend” Jones sat there in silence. He didn't think he had any friends at that moment within the force. At least not outside of Player. “I can tell you're struggling to think of examples of what I mean by that. You are one of the primary reasons Cathy and Alex even got together. I don't think you fully realize it but if it had not been for you, I don't even think the two would have even gotten to know each other. Had you not pushed Alex to dance with Cathy, her grandfather’s death would have surely been more painful for her” David nervously laughed at the mention of Cathy’s grandfather, the old chief of police. A death that he could have possibly stopped. “I’m surprised she even talked to me after that… I’m surprised anyone on the force that I could consider a friend talks to me. I’m a bit of a jackass to most of the people there” Jones muttered to himself. 

Nathan chuckled at that “You are but you are our jackass.” Jones looked at Nathan in confusion. They sat there for a solid minute or so. During that, the song that played in the background started to stick out more. It was sad. Reminded him of the times he had with what he thought were his friends. Just thinking about it made him sadly chuckle. One person came to mind in this discussion about friends. Eduardo Rameriz. The one person he poked the most fun at while on the force. It was an odd surprise that he came back to Grimsbourogh after being in Pacific Bay. “Thinking about Eduardo huh? I can tell by the look on your face. He still considers you a friend you know despite what you did.” “I highly doubt it��” “You may doubt it but its the truth.” 

Jones sat there and thought for a few moments about what he had done for his friends. In doing that, the little flame got bigger again. It went from a small plume that you would see on a match to what you would see from a lighter. Nathan smiled recognizing that something within Jones had clicked. The scenery had started to fade away. “I hope I don’t have to see you anytime soon old friend. If I do though, ill welcome you with open arms” Nathan hugged Jones as he started to wake up in the real world once more.

Waking up in the hospital this time, Clair de Lune had started to pick up not just in speed again but in a general mood. It still looked and smelled like the same old hospital but something had changed with him. Was he feeling hope again? He couldn't tell but maybe just maybe something was left for him. It was still shrouded with doubts and fear for the future but it was still a small glimmer. Player was there once again in his room along with his coworkers checking up on him if he was still hanging on. He heard about possible letters being found that were written by his late girlfriend. His heart fluttered at the rumor. They all gave him words of comfort. Unlike in the beginning, he actually listened and it warmed him up just a bit more. After a bit more he started to fall asleep again.

“DETECTIVE DAVID JEREMIAH JONES WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!?” A familiar voice jolted Jones awake. The voice was old but it was one that he hadn't heard in five years. “Chief King?!?” The old chief stared at the detective with a stern look. Jones looked around. He was in the Chief’s office. Listening to the song in the background, he recognized it as Homage. The Chief sighed “You still have so much potential. I hate seeing you here having decided that you would rather die than live on.” he sadly chuckled. Jones sat there his head hung low disappointed in himself. “I hate that you tried to go the same path that I did after it seemed like everything that you thought you had was lost to an outside force. You still have so much to do yet you attempted to do a permanent solution to a temporary problem…” Jones sat there with those last few words echoing in his head “A permanent solution to a temporary problem.” 

While those words echoed in his mind, a case that he did pop into his head. A case that one of the witnesses he had just realized he was mirroring. A lost love and the victim resorting to suicide to try and solve it. He was dazed out thinking about it. He had saved that girl's life yet here he was, in the exact situation that she was in. He sadly chuckled wondering how his past self would react. Chief King’s voice snapped him back into reality “You have done so much for the city and for the ones close to you. Without you and many others, the order would still be active.” He locked eyes with Jones. “I do not want to ever see you again in this space. Not until it is truly your time. Promise me that David Jones” Jones sat there for a moment. “ I promise” Chief King sighed in relief. Before the scene completely faded they shook each other's hands. “See you on the other side sir” “In due time David Jones. In due time”

Having woken up again in the hospital Player and Amir sat in there with him. Amir explained that he had made the necessary antidote to help keep him alive before he started to have those bouts of coming in and out of consciousness. Player handed him something. They were letters. Letters from her. He read them. As he did, the same song that had been playing this entire time he had stayed here, changed in tone. “My darling David! You've stood by me through everything that's happened, which has meant the world to me. I don't know what the future holds for me, whether I'll ever get better and go back to my old life. But my only hope is that you, David, remember all the happy days we had, before all of this happened.” His voice while reading it cracked into a sob. He thanked Player for saving him and hugged them tightly. Amir said that he should soon be able to leave the hospital. Jones nodded and after they left he fell asleep again.

“David sweetie, I'm here~” a sweet yet gentle voice woke Jones up. As he opened his eyes, in front of him stood Zoe Kasuma, his late girlfriend. She looked just as beautiful as the day they met. A familiar song played in the background. It was a song that they danced to at one of the police balls, Honeybee was the name of the song. They didnt seem to be really anywhere.  Zoe held his face “please dont blame my death on yourself. I know you feel bad about not being to protect me but it could be helped.” he nodded. “O-ok” They looked at each other. After a few moments, Jones offered his hand to Zoe. “One last dance my Honeybee?” Zoe with tears in her eyes “Of course dear” They danced and sang the lyrics together. Soon as everything started to fade away along with Zoe as the song started to end, they had one last kiss. It felt so warm and soft like a bundle of feathers. Soon after everything faded, Jones cried his absolute heart out, “Goodbye Zoe…”

He woke up from the dream. He read the letter from Zoe again. The fire in his heart turned into a full-fledged wildfire. A nurse came in clearing him to leave. As he got ready to leave in those moments, Clair De Lune was at the end of the song and at its happy ending. He was ready to look at things in a new way and help those in need once more.

[a-pale-azure-moon]

I mentioned in the author's note of chapter 17 that I chopped out almost 5K words from it during editing (a case of my brain having way too many ideas). The lovely @rorah was interested in reading the cut content, and while most of it was simply deleted, I did save the largest whole chunk I removed. It's mostly just Dimitri talking about/gushing about his friends for almost 2K words, but there's some Dimileth bonding and some tiny world building bits in there too.

(The passages in the brackets were included in the final version, just moved or reworded from where they were in this chunk.)

{The next day, she coaxed him to the greenhouse despite his reluctance. She helped him clear away the detritus from his flowerbed and then prep the soil. The roots of the shrubs were still intact and would regrow with time and care, but the flowers all needed replanting.

“So each of your plants represents someone?” Byleth asked. Dimitri nodded as he removed the last of the debris. “Tell me about them. The people, I mean.”

He was quiet for a few moments as he raked around the edges of the witch hazel bush’s remains, gathering his thoughts.} “I planted this one for Mercedes.  She was…a very kind soul, and a gifted healer.  She appeared carefree on the surface, but she paid careful attention to everyone around her.”  The faintest of smiles crossed his lips.  “She was always the first to notice when someone had a problem or was hiding an injury.  And she loved to bake sweets in her spare time.  All of the pastry recipes I’ve made for you were hers, including your birthday cake.”

Byleth’s eyebrows shot up.  So that was who had written those recipes in his cookbook. “Really?  That’s amazing.”

Dimitri nodded.  “She made the best version of the Kingdom’s traditional sweet buns I ever had.  She made a whole pile of them for my birthday one year, and I confess that I ate so many I was too ill to train the next day.”  He chuckled under his breath.  “Gustave was quite upset with me.”

“Gustave?”

“Ah, he was the captain of the royal guard,” Dimitri said.  “He trained three generations of the royal family in the art of combat and he was one of my father’s most trusted advisors.”  He rummaged through the seed bag for the cyclamen bulb.  “He was also Annette’s father.”

“I see,” Byleth said.  “So you must have known her for a long time.”

“Yes.  She didn’t come to the castle much until she joined my retinue, but I knew her well before then.  She was almost like a little sister.”  He remembered exactly where the cyclamen had been.  He pointed to the spot and Byleth dug the hole.  “She was the star student at the School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad.  She was brilliant, cheerful and hardworking, though sometimes a little clumsy.  She was always rushing about in the castle and she’d trip and crash into things.  I think that may be why she and Mercedes were so close, so she could heal Annette’s bruises.”

Byleth smiled.  She watched as he planted the bulb.  “Was the School of Sorcery anything like the Academy?”

“Yes and no.”  Dimitri’s forehead wrinkled as he thought.  “Like the Academy, the School of Sorcery was heralded as the preeminent educational institution in the Kingdom.  However, unlike the Academy, it was free for anyone to attend no matter their station.”

“Free?” She could hardly believe that, considering the steep tuition she’d paid to come to the Academy.

“My great-grandmother oversaw an expansion of the school, creating several branches of it in other parts of the Kingdom,” he said.  “Bringing educational opportunities to the masses was a long-term goal, one that the Saints were helping with.  It’s hard to encourage a farmer to send his children to school when he needs their help working the land.”

“Right.”

“I often used to sneak out of the castle and take walks through Fhirdiad in disguise.  My father always reprimanded me for it when I got caught, but…”  Dimitri paused, a faint blush spreading on his face.  “This will sound ridiculous, but I wanted to see how the people truly lived.  I wanted to hear the things they were discussing, witness their struggles and know what they needed without them knowing they were speaking to their prince.  I thought it would help me better understand how to serve them.”

Byleth felt a pang in her chest. {He truly loved his kingdom and its people. He would've been a magnificent king. It filled her with both grief and fury that his throne had been usurped and Fódlan had been deprived of his compassionate leadership.} “I don’t think that’s ridiculous at all.  I think Faerghus was lucky to have you as its prince.”

His blush deepened.  When she said things like that, so quickly and with such surety, he almost felt like he could believe it himself.

“What about this one?” She pointed to the remains of the winterberry bush.

“That one was for Sylvain.  He was from House Gautier, which was responsible for defending the border with Sreng.  He was a highly capable person, talented in many fields, but he was reluctant to apply himself to his full potential.  Well, except for one.  He had a penchant for…skirt chasing.”

Byleth raised an eyebrow.  “Is that so?”

“I spoke about it with him often, but it never seemed to help.  He usually tried to recruit me on one of his escapades instead.”  Dimitri shook his head fondly.  “He made jokes about almost everything, but despite his foolishness, Sylvain was one of the most loyal and brave people I knew.  He never hesitated to help a friend in need and he…”  He swallowed.  “He died protecting the rest of us.”

She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.  “It’s OK.”

Dimitri nodded, inhaling and exhaling slowly.  He pulled a snowdrop bulb out of the bag.  “This one is for Ingrid.  She strove to be the ideal knight.  She was industrious, diligent, principled…really, everything a knight should be.  She came from House Galatea, which was famed for raising pegasi, and Ingrid was a spectacularly skilled flier.”

“Pegasi.”  Byleth’s eyes twinkled.  “I’ve never even seen a pegasus in person.  I’ve always wanted to ride one.”

“They were common in the Kingdom but the Empire has always preferred wyverns.  I suppose wyverns are better known for their strength and tend to be less fussy about who rides them. ��Ingrid always said earning the trust of a pegasus was harder than earning the trust of a horse.”  He patted the soil over the snowdrop bulb.  “She told me she had two dreams in life.  One was to serve in my retinue, and the other was to be the equal of her fiancee, Glenn.”

“Glenn was another friend of yours, I assume?”

“Yes.”  Dimitri pulled out the bulbs for the crocuses.  “Glenn and his younger brother Felix were the sons of Duke Rodrigue, who was my father’s dearest friend.  Their ancestor, Kyphon, was the original pact-bearer to Saint Fraldarius, who was said to be the sister closest to Saint Blaiddyd.  Her Relic was the Aegis Shield, symbolizing her desire to protect Loog’s descendants.”

“So your families were close to each other right from the Kingdom’s founding.”

He nodded.  “Glenn was like an older brother to us all, always looking out for us and lending us a hand when it was needed.  He did like to joke and play pranks, and he had a sarcastic wit, but he took his duty to protect the Kingdom very seriously.  He was knighted at an early age and achieved his dream of being my father’s Shield right as the war started.  Rodrigue gave him the Aegis Shield the last day I saw them in Fhirdiad.”

Byleth dug two holes next to each other for the bulbs.  “He sounds like a true knight.  What about his brother?  You said Felix was a member of your retinue, if I recall.”

“Felix was every bit his brother’s equal, though he didn’t believe that himself.  He never could defeat Glenn in a duel despite his many attempts.”  Dimitri smiled faintly.  “Felix had a sharp tongue and a low tolerance for jokes and levity.  He wanted to be the strongest swordsman in the Kingdom without question and he sought out challenging opponents so he could test himself.  Sylvain used to liken him to a hissing cat constantly looking to start a fight.”  His smile grew a little wider at her amused snort.  “But underneath all of that, he was very kind and cared deeply for his family and friends and wanted to use his strength to protect them.”

{Byleth couldn’t help but notice that protection and duty were recurring themes whenever she heard anything about Faerghus. She got the sense that supporting and helping one another was an inherent virtue in the Kingdom, and it was such a stark contrast to how the Empire belabored ideals of merit and self-reliance.}

After he planted the crocuses, Dimitri raked a patch in front of all of the bulbs and then carefully spread a handful of seeds.  “Which flowers are those?” she asked.

“Violets,” he said.  “They weren’t common far up north, but they were Ashe’s favorite flower.  He said they grew in the gardens of Castle Gaspard, and he planted some when he came to live in Fhirdiad to serve in my retinue.”

“What was Ashe like?”

“He had an extremely earnest personality and was the best marksman I’ve ever met. He loved chivalric tales and was enthusiastic about becoming a knight, though he wasn’t always comfortable in the castle despite his many talents and constant hard work.”  Dimitri sighed.  “Ashe was born a commoner and lived as a street urchin for a time before he was adopted by Lord Lonato.  Even after suffering such hardship, he was still so cheerful and kind.  I…deeply admired that about him.”

Byleth thought the same applied to Dimitri, minus the cheerful part perhaps, but she refrained from saying so for the moment.  She checked the bag and brought out a strip of linen that was carefully folded over itself.  “What are these?” she asked.

Something lit up in his eyes, a flicker of pride at one of his greatest achievements.  “These are hellebore seeds,” he said as he took the packet, handling it like it was made of glass.  “This flower is almost extinct now.  They are native to Duscur.”

“Duscur?”  She’d never heard the name before.

“When the Kingdom existed, Duscur was the name of the peninsula at the northern tip of Fódlan,” Dimitri said.  “It was separated from the Kingdom by a mountain range, and the people native to there had different customs, culture and even a different language.  They were an important trade partner and ally.  I only had the honor of visiting it once, when I was child.  My father brought me along on a diplomatic mission so I could meet its leaders.”  He raked a spot alongside the violets.  “Glenn had just been knighted a few weeks prior to the trip, and he was assigned as my guard.  He broke his favorite sword in a sparring match, and I tagged along when he went in search of a blacksmith to repair it.  That was how I met Dedue.”

“He was the blacksmith?”

“The son of the blacksmith.”  Dimitri smiled at the memory.  “He didn’t speak much Fódlanese, and my knowledge of Duscur’s language was quite limited, but we still managed to strike up a conversation.  He didn’t realize I was the prince until one of the royal guards came to the smithy looking for Glenn, and Dedue was mortified that he’d spoken with me as an equal.  I had to repeatedly reassure him that I was grateful for his candor.”

Byleth smiled.  “And that’s how you became friends?”

“Yes.  We sent many letters back and forth to each other in the years that followed, before he joined my retinue.  In doing so, we helped teach our different languages to each other.  It was…one of the most valuable relationships I forged as a boy, for many reasons.”  He carefully spread the hellebore seeds.  “Dedue was taciturn, but he was a kind and noble soul and a loyal friend.  He taught me everything I know about flowers and gardening, and he was an unrivaled cook.  He even taught some things to the castle chefs in Fhirdiad.”  He paused, looking at the tiny seeds in the soil as they shimmered in his vision.  “Dedue…was the last to fall.  He all but lifted me onto my horse and bade me to flee while he stayed behind to face countless monsters alone.”

[kerizaret]

You are SO RIGHT for all of these op, I agree with all of them wholeheartedly

If i may add some of my hcs for sick wxs:

♧ Rui is always force-fed veggies while he's in a weakened state and can't protest. He INSISTS that it makes him feel sicker and worsens his state (it doesn't) and why would anyone subject him to such torture

♧ he generally takes liquid medicine. Hates taking pills he has to swallow. If it doesn't dissolve in his mouth he will refuse to take it unless forced, and only with the help of something to drink

♧ his brain lags while he's sick. He is idealess, his usual creativity is GONE, his analytical skills when he watches musicals or reads books are nowhere to be found and he DESPISES it. Because he's not just bored out of his mind, he feels like finally he has time to work on things because he has to stay home and yet he's wasting it. He's restless. Has to repeatedly be reassured that it's fine to just rest without coming up with 15 new inventions and script ideas in the meantime

♧ finds it hard to sleep (even harder than usual) with a stuffed nose and headache and sore throat and fever and whatever else he has, with no thoughts to occupy his head. Often can't fully fall asleep unless he's thoroughly distracted from his illness by something, so he often watches movies or reads to sleep

♧ more easily irritated/nauseaus by strong smells or the feeling of sweat on him or unpleasant textures

♡ Emu is absolutely SPOILED by her family while sick. They would steal the moon for her and wrap it in ribbons and gift paper to present at her bed if she asked for it. Shosuke watches some movies he'd generally comment as "childish" or "stupid" and "predictable" with her with no jabs or comments. Keisuke and her father buy her whatever she wants at the moment. Hinata reads her bedtime stories. She probably gets served her favourite breakfast in bed

♡ contrary to Rui, she is absolutely filled with new and wonderhoy ideas. Has many more dreams, since she also tends to sleep a lot when sick, too, and she always calls or messages the other members to tell them all about it and how they can use it.

♡ her energy is sucked out of her. Becomes more sluggish and sloppy. Moving around too much makes her dizzy. She dislikes it a lot because she hates feeling chained to one place and not being able to jump around and be energetic

♡ like op said she constantly texts or calls people because she easily feels lonely and needs company, but that also includes her classmates to ask what they've been doing in class or send them pictures or some drawings she did while bored and talk about her ideas

♡ she's the quickest to recover from illness of the four

◇ once Tsukasa FINALLY resigns to his fate and admits he's sick, he does not allow anyone within the 10m radius of himself without a face mask. Generally avoids interaction and being close to people so that they won't catch what has (even though it's hard and a bit lonely) (avoids Saki especially like the PLAGUE)

◇ consequently, he subconsciously gets a bit touchy for a while once he's healthy again to make up for that. He is unaware of this fact but others just let him

◇ "I wonder if i can learn how to portray a weak or sick character better from this experience..." / "Is this how one would feel when under an effect of a curse, or when stabbed?" / "This kind of a scratchy voice would fit a character like this a lot, I should remember this and try to imitate it later..." / "Hmmm do you think when someone is in love they also feel this kind of chest pain like after coughing? ...No? ...What do you mean I shouldn't feel chest pain"

◇ still tries to practice (fails. Gets dizzy easily and can't focus. Has even bigger memory problems than usual and quickly forgets lines)

◇ very easily gets emotional when sick, both with positive and negative feelings. Huge mood swings. Can get frustrated by the smallest inconvenience, or cry because his mom baked cupcakes

♤ Nene is the most prone to illness and also the most prone to fall back into illness again soon after recovering if she's not careful

♤ gets more snarky and irritable, especially when very tired. Complains a lot. Not a big fan of being coddled or being told what to do. She admits she's not the greatest company when sick but appreciates it a lot when someone stays with her regardless

♤ a bit too dependent on medicine and sometimes accidentally overdoses and makes herself feel worse instead. Tsukasa is on her case about it. He also recommends her lozenges for her voice

♤ constantly forgets to hydrate. At this point Rui sets reminders for her on Robo-Nene to make her drink enough

♤ often rewatches comfort movies or replays comfort games, sometimes even several times

♤ there were several instances where she completely lost her voice because she tried to practice despite being sick. WxS was not impressed

♤ prone to nosebleeds

♤ it's hard for her to get back into physical form after being sick, she gets tired easier and quickly runs out of breath. Often has to take it easy to not relapse. She feels useless because of it but is constantly reassured it's natural and she can take her time

i'm suffering from the Plague of the Dark Forest (the common cold) so here: wxs and how they deal with being sick

rui

rui does not get sick very often but when he does, it hits him like a TRUCK. not only that, but it takes him ages to even realize that he's feeling BAD in the first place. tsukasa, emu, or nene have to literally point out that he looks terrible for him to realize that oh, he feels like shit. as soon as he realizes that he is, well, SICK, he is chained to his bed/sofa/whatever he sleeps on for days and has to be spoonfed because he physically cannot lift his arms. wxs doesn't buy any of his "i'm feeling better than ever. tip top shape, in fact" bs, by the way.

emu

literally does not get sick. she is an immoveable force of nature, a brick wall. germs fear her. bacteria quake at the mention of her name. rhinovirus who? HOWEVER. on the rare occasions where she does get sick, i think she'd be the clingy type. HATES that she has to stay home and in her room alone and desperately needs some kind of company or external stimulation, whether it be talking with the virtual singers through her phone or texting wxs. she would assure them that she's fine, but really just wants to see her friends in person again :')

tsukasa

if tsukasa got sick, the world would end. his sneezes would shake the earth's core and change our geography completely. my online friends would end up being my neighbours.

firstly, he'd panic internally just a bit once he realizes that his nose feels a bit too stuffy and the tickle at the back of his throat is bothering him more than it should. he'd be completely confuzzled, after all, he spends a good chunk of his time just SANITIZING. he'd be all "ho ho ho what the fuck! there's no way! i, future star tenma tsukasa, caught the common cold?!?" he'd tear his room down, cleaning every single nook and cranny and dumping all his clothes into the laundry machine and downing pills and hoarding up on vitamin c so that he could possibly evade his fate (doesn't work). similarly to rui, he'd deny that he's feeling bad in order to keep working on shows but it eventually catches up to him and he has no choice but to rest.

nene

catches colds as the seasons change and the temperature shifts. she has like two assigned weeks a year for her sickness and deals with it normally: rotting in her bed and curling up into a shivering ball while trying to focus on a video game on her phone and failing miserably. her biggest worry each time is how her cold will affect her voice, deeming her unable to sing properly, but wxs is very understanding and reassure nene of her guilt. tsukasa ends up recommending different herbal remedies and teas that soothe the throat, and albeit nene is hesitant to try something tsukasa suggests, she begrudgingly admits later that they WORK.

[girasollake]

a glimpse | s.h.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

type: angst

requested: yup

summary: you did everything to make him yours but his thoughts are still full of her. you ask him a simple question and the answer leaves you shattered.

warnings: mention of sexual interactions-nothing too bad, alcohol consumption, surprisingly no swear words, bad writing

a/n: sorry for being inactive guys, uni just started and im already exhausted. ill post some stuff sometimes when ill have time and motivation to write smth (and when my writers block is not floating around my brain), sorry that this one is short<3

word count: bit over 1k

You bought him flowers, but the only shade he saw in the bouquet was the color of her eyes. The sweater you wore to meet his parents made him remember the afternoon when he was with her baking a carrot cake for his mom’s birthday. The way you made your notes and explained difficult topics to him brought him back to sitting next to her in school and exchanging shy glances and smiles. When you were touching him, he would imagine it was her. He felt guilty, he really did, but she was his first love and losing her was not something he could move on from so quickly.

The worst thing was that you saw it all. His eyes would speak for himself and although you couldn’t see what memories were coming back to him, you knew who was the main character in them.

‚Is everything okay?’ You’d ask softly each time.

‚Of course.’ He would just shake off the feeling and smile at you like nothing had happened.

It wasn’t easy, being his second choice and always overthinking. It was making you miserable and tired. You wished so bad to be his first, but it was too late, it was her. So you tried everything to make him fall in love with you more, because sometimes it didn’t even feel like he loved you at all. You tried to take him on dates you knew she didn’t take him on, you held his hand in public and squeezed it tightly, you visited him at work and made him all kinds of cakes and cookies he loved, and for a while it was working. He spent more time with you in the present moment instead of daydreaming and reliving his memories. He stopped imagining her in your place and the memories started fading away. Of course it didn’t last long enough, it ended when he saw a glimpse of her at a party you both went to.

‚I’ll be right back.’ He mumbled and without even looking at you he disappeared in the crowd.

Tears started welling up in your eyes and you quickly wiped them away with your hand. All of this for what? He would never love you in the same way he loved her.

You walked into the kitchen and scooped a bottle of some cheap alcohol. With the whole bottle in your hands you exited the noisy and loud environment of the house. You took a seat on the porch, rough wood was scratching the exposed skin under your dress and the coldness of it made you shiver. You opened the bottle and took a few sips, the alcohol was burning your throat and the gloomy weather somehow made it kick in ten times harder. Minutes passed and you were losing yourself in the drink until you finally felt it. The numbness. You didn’t want to get drunk, you just wanted your thoughts and feelings to finally be quiet.

The door behind you creaked, ‚There you are! We’ve been looking for you everywhere!’.

‚We?’ You turned your head to look into Steve’s eyes. ‚Meaning you and Nancy?’

‚Yeah. Is something wrong?’

You chuckled, ‚Everything is wrong, Steve.’

His face was painted with confusion, he closed the door and carefully took a seat next to you.

‚Are you drunk?’

‚No.’ He pursed his lips and nodded at your answer.

For a while you were sitting in silence and it was you who decided to break it, ‚Where is she then?’

‚Nancy? Inside with our friends from high school.’

‚Right.’ You gave a long nod and then brought your knees up to rest your chin on them.

‚Aren’t you cold?’ He asked, he could offer you his jacket instead but it was somehow gone.

‚No, the alcohol is keeping me warm.’ You shrugged and took another small sip.

‚I feel like there is something you’re not telling me.’

You placed your cheek on your knees to look at him and sighed, ‚I don’t want to lose you.’

‚Hey, hey, why are you saying this? You’re not gonna lose me.’ He put a loose strand of your hair behind your ear and carressed your cheek with his thimb.

You sat up and covered both of his hands with yours, ‚I already did. We both know you’re not mine and you never were.’

‚What are you talking about?’

‚Do you still love her?’

‚No. I don’t.’ He replied, but you saw how his eyes avoided yours when he gave that answer.

‚Steve, I don’t want to be the only one in this relationship, you have to be in it as well and it seems like you can’t, because she’s always on your mind.’

‚You’re delusional. I am in this relationship just as much as you are.’

‚Yeah?’ You raised an eyebrow. ‚Then when was the last time you bought me flowers?’

Silence.

‚Or the last time you took me on a date?’

Silence.

‚Or the last time you made me feel good?’

Silence.

You felt the stinging in your eyes and your nose becoming swollen, ‚I bought you flowers last Saturday. I took you out on a date three days ago to see a movie. I gave you head twice this week. So Steve, if you want to repeat that you are in this as much as me, please do.’ A soft, tired laugh escaped your lips.

He looked down at his shoes, eyes still avoiding yours.

‚Me or her, Steve?’

‚What?’ He finally met your gaze.

‚Just choose.’ You swallowed a big lump in your throat when you saw him look away. ‚Steve. Choose.’

He opened his mouth and hesitated for a moment, ‚Her.’

Every last drop of hope inside of you that wished he would choose you had evaporated into nothing. A sob tried to escape your mouth but you managed to stay calm. You stood up and walked away, he didn’t even try to catch up to you or talk to you again. There was a new feeling in your chest that had replaced the numbness. You couldn’t name it, it just felt like something inside you broke into thousand pieces, got run over and lit on fire. It died.

taglist: @imleavingtonightt @r93339 @stvrdustalexx @cursedandromedablack @ccosmic-illusion @onecrazydirectioner @luvwanda @tomskookie @justice4lils @heizenka @wolfstarsimpxx @miss-bloodbath @criesinlies @screambih @freeshavocadoooo @evahpmcu @lyntic  @naturalswifty89 @hawkins-hs @bvmbshell @alainabooks143 @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @phantomxoxo @stilesks @ilovedilfs32 @squidwardsluverxx @kaitlin-r130 @greengarsstuff @axen-gers @hcloangcls @carpediem-spero @088i880

[thefanficmonster]

You Call It A Mess, We Call It Baking

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Tons of fluff

Summary: A friendly argument via Discord leads to a baking session. Said baking session leads to a kitchen looking like it was the victim of a tornado. The lesson here is: don’t leave Corpse and Y/N in the kitchen together.

Requested by Anon, thank you so much for your request, hope I captured what you wanted well and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Corpse’s POV

I’ve been sitting in a Discord call with Y/N for about three years now, keeping her company as she’s editing some footage Sean sent her earlier. In the meantime, I’m reviewing the recently submitted stories by my viewers, reading some lines I find funny or downright terrifying to her.

“When I went in the kitchen to check on the cake, it was already out of the oven, a sticky note next to it on the counter that read: ‘smells nice’. My blood ran cold.“ I read the eerie sentence that is suggesting one of my most frightening scenarios - a stalker getting inside your house. I get chills just imagining what was probably going on in the sender’s head when they saw that.

“Jeez, it’s been so long since I’ve cooked something other than omelet.“ I hear Y/N reply absentmindedly, completely neglecting the fear factor of what’s going on in the story.

“Good job missing the point.” I chuckle, my eyes continuing to scan the email until my brain actually comprehends what she said, “Wait, you mean to tell me you have baked anything ever?! No offense, Y/N, but I was honestly doubting your ability to make an omelet as well. In all the years we’ve been friends I can’t remember you ever not saying ‘I hade takeout’ when I asked you what you had for dinner.” 

The scoff that comes through my headphones is the most adorable thing ever. She’s one to easily take a joke and never get offended by anything, but I know how heated she can get with her sarcasm. If I’m being honest, I’m always here for it. 

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Corpsy. A girl’s gotta have some aces up her sleeve.“ I can just imagine the narrowing of here eyes and the tilting of her head as she says that. She has a very specific way of expressing her thoughts. When we first met I accidentally made the comparison to one of those children’s books that have pictures, stories and small buttons for audio. That comparison has stuck with me and I look back at it very often. To fully catch her point, you don’t just listen to her. No, no, no. You focus on every change in her face and body. The way she looks away during certain parts of her speech, the way her voice plays with several different tones at once. Her posture while speaking. Just like those books - you don’t just listen to the audio, you look at the pictures and read the text.

“Well you know how much I like playing poker, why don’t you come over and throw those aces down.“ The last thing you should ever give Y/N is a challenge. She won’t only homerun it, but will never let you forget it either. When we met she was a girl with self esteem in the negatives, so seeing her brag about her achievements to me always brings me joy.

The details I’ve listed are pretty in-depth, aren’t they? That’s because I don’t want to let anything slip when it comes to her. This realization hit me early in our friendship and it was only like two years in that I finally connected the dots - this investment in her of mine was not simple nor platonic. Come to think of it, I reckon it never was.

“No way, I’m not changing out of my pajamas just to come to your house.” She laughs, once again making me picture her full body reaction to her statement.

I smirk, knowing I’m about to bring out my main weapon, “Oh come on, I’ve seen you in pajamas countless times. You can just admit you don’t wanna embarrass yourself. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

I can sense her fuming even though she’s like two miles away. “I’ll be there in 15.”

She hangs up before getting the chance to hear me lose control of the laughter I’ve been suppressing. 

Man, I love this girl.

Y/N’s POV 

“It’s on.“ I say as soon as the door in front of me swings open to reveal the smug smirking face of my bestfriend. The foundation of my tough, unbothered act is shaken up by the outburst of butterflies in my stomach which occurs every time I see him. I can never look at this man and not turn at least a little red in the cheeks. 

It’s been long since I self-diagnosed with the malicious ‘falling for someone who would never reciprocate my feelings’ illness. I’ve been living with it for a while. What medication do I take? Dating other guys. One bad relationship after another, scolding myself that every one of them has been a desperate attempt to get him to change his gaze on me from ‘best friend’ to something more. Hell, I don’t even know how to define that ‘something more’. I once even tried to admit my feelings, but I was so vague and so incoherent that I didn’t understand myself, so how was he supposed to grasp my downright sad excuse of a confession. 

“No ‘hello’, no nothing?“ He moves aside to let me in. I walk right past him with a sassy flip of my hair to mask the nervousness of being aware that his eyes were on me, “Rude.“ He murmured with an obvious smile in his tone.

He looks as cute as ever, black sweatpants and a black tee, hair messy as though he has just rolled out of bed. I can say with the upmost certainty that he’s the only one who can pull of that hairstyle.

I hide mine as I throw on the apron that’s hanging by his fridge, ready to take over his kitchen and put those aces of mine to use. I can’t help but furrow my brows when I see him enter the kitchen behind me and lean against the counter. That’s when I notice the counter is lined with all the ingredients I’ll need for the cake I had in mind. 

“OK, what do we do first?“ he claps his hands together, straightening his posture as he gives me a expectant look.

It takes all my brain cells to prevent me from freezing up completely. I’m not usually like this, mind you, I’m a lot better at keeping what’s going on inside my head camouflaged. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I don’t have much time to dwell on that. If I do, he’ll pick up on it right away.

“Um, we are not gonna do anything. I will be here baking, and you will remain outside the kitchen until I’m done. If you need something, ask and I’ll bring it to you. I can’t have you sabotaging my project, impostor.” I narrow my eyes at him like he’s the most dangerous of threats. And he is, for my mental sanity.

He fakes a hurt expression, clearly fighting to the best of his ability to hide how much he’s enjoying messing with me. “We’ve known each other for five years, Y/N. Don’t you trust me?”

I lean over the counter to where we’re about two feet apart and whisper, “Not. Even. A. Little. Bit.”

He smiles, “You’re just trying to get away with making this cake by watching a YouTube tutorial. Admit it, you can’t even crack an egg properly.” His eyes are now as narrowed as mine as we stare each other down at a proximity that’s rapidly raising my body temperature and heartbeat. It’s not fair. I’m a mess around him so he automatically has the upper hand.

As expected, I give in, “You better not mess around though.”

After I force him to give me several different oaths, we start. I’m working on the batter, he’s working on the frosting. We decided to decorate it with crimson and dark purple frosting. We’re both really pick about the color shades so he’s currently struggling to get the crimson perfect. 

“Let’s make it a layer cake.“ He suggests out of the blue, “Two layers, nothing crazy.“

I think it over for a moment or two before shrugging, “OK, but then you better grab a bowl and help me with the second layer. You know how to make the batter, right?”

He confirms that he does and walks out of my line of sight. I hear him open the fridge as I whisk the eggs I have cracked with the sugar. 

“You want something to drink?“ He asks while rummaging through the fridge.

I decline, try to focus on the recipe that I have somehow memorized to the smallest of details. As I’m reciting the it silently to make sure I didn’t skip any steps with the batter, I feel something cold run down my back causing me to scream.

“What the fuck was that?!“ I turn around and glare at him just as the ice cube slips out from under my hoodie and falls to the floor. The fucker’s laughing whole heartedly, not giving a damn that he just gave me a mini heart attack. Mainly cause I thought it was a roach or something, and he know I hate bugs.

“You do realize how boiling red you are, right? You look like a lobster. I thought you needed something to cool you down.“

Instead of being annoyed, I do a full 180 and decide to play his game, “Yeah, I know...” I trail off, reaching my hand back towards the bowl of flour. Grabbing a a handful of the white powder I throw it at him before he can even catch on. Needless, to say, his outfit and hair aren’t so black anymore. “Ah, I knew your hair would look good with snowflakes in it, but you can never be too sure.”

“This means war, Y/N.” His smile is borderline malicious, getting me excited for what’s to come. 

Him and I have always had these so called wars, but never like you’d imagine. We are silent, strategic, subtle. Neither of us knows when the other will attack until it’s too late. That’s why instead of going for a counter-attack right away, he heads to complete his mission of making the batter for the second layer.

All is quiet except the noises of the utensils clinking together every now and then. I keep a close watch on him out of the corner of my eye and I notice no sus behavior. That is until I see him take a spoonful of his batter and eat it. I whirl around at the speed of a gust of wind, eyes wide, “Do you want to fuck up your guts.” He ignores me as he takes another spoonful, bringing it close to his mouth. This time, I grab onto his arm causing the contents of the spoon to spill on my hoodie.

I roll my eyes, unbothered by the brown stain that by some miracle missed the apron and fell on my grey hoodie, “Don’t. Eat. The. Batter. Copy?“

“Paste.“ He nods, smirking with pride as he puts the spoon aside.

I sigh and return to my side of the kitchen, focusing on the next task: poring the batter into the circular baking tray which he, for some reason, has two of. He repeats the task soon after me and we put the two trays in the oven. I help him with the frosting, getting the shades close enough to what we had in mind. 

After about five minutes of the crusts baking, a wonderful smell spreads throughout the kitchen. At this point, all we have to do is wait for the oven to signal that our cinnamon crust is ready to be taken out, wait for it to cool down and then frost the cake.

“It smells really good.“ He comments, turning his head to look at me.

I’m sitting atop the kitchen counter and Corpse is standing next to me. This is the only time him and I are at approximately the same height. The realization brings a thought to my mind, one that makes me feel like an evil mastermind.

“Hey, remember earlier when you said I couldn’t crack an egg properly?“ He hums affirmatively, “Well...“

The carton of eggs is within arm’s reach. I grab an egg, chip it off the side of the counter and crack it apart above his head, its contents coating his hair. “How’s that for a proper egg crack?” I ask victoriously.

He lets out a surprised sound, something between a gasp and a laugh. Shaking his head to get the yoke to fall down, he says amusedly: “I don’t know...you tell me.”

Too late for me to do anything. There’s milk all over me.

The malicious smile on his face is replicated on mine and now it’s really on. However, as we reach for the items meant to be out weapons, the oven dings.

Frosting the cake goes about as well as you expect: there’s more frosting on us than the cake itself.

“Let’s make amends, please. I’m so not looking forward to taking three showers tonight.“ I say, raising a white napkin and waving it around.

“Fair enough.“ He shrugs and we shake hands.

As I’m about to pull my hand back, he holds onto it, making me look up at him. Our eyes lock and I suddenly regain that same shakiness and vulnerability I always have around him. It never leaves me, I just manage to ignore it. The sound of my panic is muffled by the sound of my heart thumping the loudest it has ever. 

Expectedly, he is the bold one who makes the first and final move. The move to end one era of us and start another. His lips touch mine and all fades. It’s just him and I. The friends who were never just friends. The cowards who suck at dealing with emotions. The fearful little kids that are afraid of rejection because we both mean so much to each other, to the point of suffering to prevent the possibility of losing one another.

We embrace who we are, finally admitting that friends is not what we are meant to remain forever.

The kiss might’ve been brief, but the meaning it carries makes it the most valuable moment of my life. One I’ll cherish forever. Something in his eyes tells me he will too. That’s all I need. That’s all we need. No words are necessary.

Suddenly, our bubble bursts as a result of his ringing phone. He lets go of one of my hands and takes his phone from the counter.

“It’s Dave”, he smiles, picking up the call and turning to get me in the camera frame. “Hey Dave, look who’s here with me.“

I wave at the camera and at the baffled face of Dave. “Hi!”

“What, in the name of God, is that mess?“ He raises both his eyebrows as his eyes scan us and the kitchen behind us.

“You call it a mess, we call it baking.“ Corpse and I look at each other and smile, blushing as red as the streak in Dave’s hair.

“Am I missing something here? Did I call at a bad time?“ He asks, still struggling to rationalize what he is seeing.

“Yeah, you actually did. I’ll call you back.“ Corpse dead-ass hangs up on him, putting his phone away before turning to me, “We have more important matters at the moment.“

He kisses me again, this time more confidently. His arms wrap around me and prep me up on the counter, insinuating that this kiss won’t be as short as the last.

[chudleycanonficfest]

you belong with me

Day 11, story #1 is by @accio-broom

Title: you belong with me Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Arthur Weasley / Molly Prewett Prompt:  Soulmate AU Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): None, unless Arthur Weasley trying to enjoy his birthday offends you.

When Arthur Weasley woke on the morning of the 6th February, nothing was out of the ordinary. He took his time, easing out of sleep like a man with nothing to do. He stretched out his body with a loud yawn, then pulled back the curtains of the four-poster bed, ignoring the attack of the winter air that filled the dorm room.

He was going to have a perfect day.

Wiggling his toes on the plush rug next to his bed, he greeted his fellow dorm mates.

“Morning, Ry.” Arthur tipped his head towards the Gryffindor on the bed opposite him. “How’s it hanging?”

Ryan was not a morning person, and he grumbled at Arthur before snuggling further under the duvet. Arthur chuckled and joined in the conversation about the latest Quidditch scores, trying his best to not lament too long on the disappointing Cannons scores. He gathered his wash bag, and made sure he had clean briefs with his uniform, then waved a cheery goodbye as he wandered off to the bathroom, whistling as he moved.

Today was Arthur Weasley’s birthday, and the day he came of age, although the notion was rather peculiar to him. He didn’t feel all that more responsible than he did yesterday, but according to Wizarding Law, he could now leave school, get a real job and get married, should he wish.

He scoffed as the thought of getting married flitted into his head, disappearing as quickly as it came. That would mean actually landing himself a girlfriend, something he hadn’t yet achieved during his six years at Hogwarts. He hadn’t even come close.

As he showered, Arthur mapped out his day in his head. If it all went to plan, he’d enjoy a big breakfast with the rest of his school friends. His classes today were straight forward—double Muggle Studies this morning, then Potions this afternoon. Between these would be lunch, and a free period, where hopefully, he’d be able to go for a fly, if the weather was okay.

If he survived the day, then he and his friends were planning a night of wizard chess, birthday cake and butterbeer, which hopefully Ryan was going to sneak from the kitchens for them.

Shower done, he dried himself off in front of one of the mirrors. As he did, he examined his body. He didn’t look any older than yesterday, there were no new lines or hairs on his body. He was still the same gangly lad with violent red hair and far too many freckles to count.

Arthur settled his glasses on his face, then loosened his towel. Without warning, a soft femine voice filled his head, taking him by surprise.

Merlin, I hate red hair.

Tightening the towel around his waist, he looked around the bathroom for the source of the sound. 

“H-hello?” he called out, but the only reply came from the echo of his greeting bouncing off the tiles. “I-is anyone there?”

I wish I were blonde or a brunette—anything but this. Nobody fancies redheads. 

His heart pounding, he checked all the nooks and crannies in the room, only to find that he was the only one there. The tips of his ears turned bright pink as he turned his attention back to his reflection. Dark circles sat under his eyes, and a frown covered his face. He was tired. It was the only explanation for the voice that was still filling Arthur’s ears with insecurities. There had been a few late nights in the library recently, as well as some early morning Quidditch practices. They must be catching up on him.

He’s no spring chicken, after all.

Hurriedly pulling on his uniform, he combed his hair then carried on whistling, hoping to block out the now persistent voice in his head.

⁂

The girl’s commentary didn’t stop whilst Arthur ate his breakfast. It filled his ears, dragging his shoulders down with negative thoughts and observations.

Everything is so greasy here, the voice wailed. No wonder I’m putting on weight. I’ll get spots if I carry on eating like this. I wish Mary wouldn’t wear so much perfume. It makes me feel sick.

The negativity depressed Arthur and was the last thing he needed on his birthday. He’d hoped for a nice day, full of presents, and easy lessons and time spent with his friends, but instead, Negative Nancy was ruining his time. He didn’t even fancy opening his gifts, which had been delivered by owl mail just as he sat down for breakfast.

Glancing down the table, he tried to work out the source of the interference in his brain, but the Gryffindor table was full of people, and conversations flew around them from every angle. He sniffed, wondering if Mary’s perfume could lead him in the right direction, but all he could smell was baked beans.

With a sigh, he shoved his second sausage into his mouth, letting the taste of his favourite breakfast food cheer him up, even if it was only a little bit.

Muggle studies was Arthur’s favourite topic, but he found it hard to concentrate as his head filled with arithmancy. He hated the subject, there was a reason he didn’t choose to continue the subject after their O.W.L.’s, so it irritated him greatly that the thoughts were disrupting learning more about muggle bridges. They were such beautiful contraptions, too.

Lunch was just as bad. Although the voice was annoying, Arthur was starting to get used to it. However, what was infuriating him was how familiar the voice sounded, yet he couldn’t work out who it belonged to. Whenever it filled his mind, it brought warm feelings and stirred something new deep inside his belly. Whatever was happening to him, he felt awkward that he was getting a very up close and personal look into someone else’s thoughts. Throughout the morning, he’d experienced such a vast range of emotions, and he felt like he might explode.

His birthday was going downhill rapidly.

By the time Potions came around, Arthur was exhausted. He arrived at class before the rest of his peers, and as soon as he settled into his usual seat, he folded his arms and rested his head on them. He was about to drop off to sleep when…

“Good afternoon, Arthur. Are you enjoying your birthday?”

Arthur’s ears pricked up. It was the same damn voice he’d been hearing all day, but this time it was loud and happening outside his head. Peeking over his arms, he watched as Molly Prewett sat down next to him and gave him a warm smile.

It was her, the voice inside his head. How had he not realised this before now?

Although he and Molly weren’t best friends, she had been his potions partner since their first year, and they often found themselves sharing a table in the library late at night. Could she hear his thoughts the same way he could listen to hers? Or was this all one-sided?

“Oh, yes, it’s fine,” he said, finally lifting his head from the desk. “Perfectly spiffing.”

Perfectly spiffing? He’s never spoken like that before, and definitely not to Molly Prewett. He usually chooses his words carefully around her, not wanting to look like an imbecile.

She giggled, and Arthur goggled at her. Was she only laughing at his choice of words, or was his internal commentary amusing her. His pulse started to quicken. There had been many thoughts throughout the day, some that would mortify him if anyone else heard.

Arthur checked on Slughorn, who was distracted writing today’s recipe on the board. Summoning the courage, Arthur took a deep breath then reached out with his mind. He crossed all his fingers and toes that this would work as he thought hard.

“Hello? Molly?”

All of a sudden, Molly sat upright in her seat. Her face turned towards him, and even through the smoke from their cauldron, Arthur could see that her eyes were wide, and her jaw was almost reaching the desk.

“Arthur? Oh Merlin, is that really you? Is it your voice I’ve heard all day?”

“Yes? I mean, I think so. I’ve been hearing your voice since I woke up, and I was curious to see if you could hear the same.”

A red blush crept from Molly’s neck and onto her cheeks, and Arthur was sure it wasn’t from their cauldron or the heat of the dungeons.

“How much did you hear?” Molly averted her gaze from him.

Arthur paused, weighing up his options. Should he lie and protect Molly from inevitable humiliation? Or should he tell her the truth? It was a difficult choice, and both came with a list of pros and cons. But Arthur wasn’t a dishonest man, and if this problem continued for much longer, Molly deserved to know what she was exposing him to.

Plus, if she was experiencing it too, then she probably had a good idea of what he’d heard.

Reaching a decision, he flexed his mind again. “All of it. I’m sorry, Molly. I tried my best to ignore it all, but it’s all I can hear.”

“What’s going on? Do you think we should go and see Madam Pomfrey?”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle. The mind-reading was not an illness or spell damage, and they hadn’t been near each other recently, save for right now. 

It’s no coincidence that this started on the morning of his seventeenth birthday, and his brothers had mentioned something similar happening to them, although at the time, Arthur put it down to them yanking his wand. They often liked to tease him, as older brothers do.

It was Percival who’d mentioned it, while they were tinkering with a Muggle car in their father’s garage last summer.

“So, this school year is going to be fun for you, Arthur,” he’d said, a smile on his face. “Coming of age, you’re allowed to go to Hogsmeade without supervision, you’ll hopefully get your apparition licence too.”

Arthur had smiled, his stomach lurching with excited nerves. “If I pass.”

Bilius had piped up. “The family record is five attempts.”

“And Dad has never grown his eyebrows back.” Percival smirked at his brothers.

Arthur joined in with the laughter, relishing getting to spend time with Percival and Bilius. Percival had married almost straight out of school, and although Bilius remained single, he was always away on secret missions for the Order of the Phoenix.

Grinning at Arthur, Pervial spoke again. “Of course, apparition isn’t the hardest thing you’ll have to deal with. If the voices start, you’re in for a treat.”

“Voices?” Arthur fumbled with his screwdriver as a frown appeared on his face.

“Yeah, don’t you know?” Percival continued, adding oil to the engine. “When Weasley men come of age, they have a special way of finding their one true love.”

“What? No, you’re making this up. This is all fairy tale nonsense, surely? Bilius hasn’t met anyone!”

“How do think Perce landed his wife so quickly?” Bilius laughed. “Wasn’t his charm or good looks, that’s for sure.”

Percival and Bilius had erupted into giggles again. The tips of Arthur’s ears burned pink. There was no way this sort of thing happened, they were just having him on. But still, the thought had appealed to him. He was so unlucky in love, that the thought of being able to automatically identify his future wife had piqued his interest for sure.

Would he be like Percival or Bilius? Only time would tell.

⁂

Arthur hadn’t thought back on that conversation since it had happened. But if what his brothers had told him was true, then there were worse women in the world to be hearing in his head. Molly was kind and pretty. He’d always had a soft spot for her, but he’d never acted on it for fear of being rejected. Now, he probably didn’t have a choice.

Taking a huge breath, he reached for Molly’s hand and squeezed it. His grip trembled but felt it pertinent for him to try and be brave, given the enormity of what they were facing. In an attempt to distract himself from her internal panic, he wet his lips before finally whispering in a low voice, 

“What do you know about soulmates?”

[nelapanela94]

Warnings: Mentions of a degenerative disease, angst, fluff, character dead

LevixFem!Y/N

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When you met Levi for the first time when he joined the Survey Corps you were certain that the stoic, ill-mannered raven-haired was going to be yours. With your joyful and caring personality, you were quite popular among your male peers; however, you only had eyes for one man.

Despite Levi’s efforts to suppress his feelings, he realized he had fallen hard for you. He would helplessly stutter when he talked with you and his gaze would unconsciously follow you whenever you were around. Your laughter would bright up a shitty day, and it irked him when another man made you laugh. Indeed, Levi wanted to confess, but was afraid to screw it up. It wasn’t a scenario he was prepared for.

He was utterly doomed.

Nonetheless, the universe conspired in his favor the day you went straight to his office, opened the door without knocking and firmly approached the ravenette who was busy with paperwork. He didn’t even have time to complain at your intrusion because his lips were already prisoners of yours. Levi was left dumbfounded, his eyes widely opened, his entire face flustered, and he was doubtless his heart was about to explode.

He instinctively cupped your face in his hands and deepened the kiss as all the tension drifted away from his shoulders. Your lips moved slowly and clumsily first, but didn’t take long to adjust to the perfect rhythm. Your heart pounded in your chest and your trembling knees were about to give up. You could not focus in anything, but on how soft his lips felt against yours. You had found a new addiction.

You finally broke the kiss and stared at each other in the eye. “What the…” Levi was still processing what just had happened.

“I wasn’t going to be left with the desire” you said between soft pants. Then an awkward silence filled the room, Levi tugged at the collar of his shirt, while you bit your lower lip. “Well...” you pursed your lips in a thin line.

“Stop b...by after dinner. I’ll make t…tea for both of us, I... got this new blend from the capital…” he stammered, his eyes darted towards the window.

“I’ll get the biscuits” you proposed while inspecting your nails.

“Great”

“Great. Uh, my squad is gathering soon… see you then” you waved your hand and left his office.

You and Levi had been together ever since then. Despite your tight working schedules, you’d always make time to see each other. You would steal kisses from him when no one was looking and leave love notes on his desk with the cheesiest messages you came up with. They were a treasure for him and kept every single one in one of his drawers. Levi, on the other hand, demonstrated his love through acts of service, like brewing tea for you, making sure you had had breakfast every morning, or having your clothes washed, folded and put away. Since words were not his forte, he showed his affection in his own way.

Everything seemed perfect until one night you abruptly woke up covered in cold sweat, your nose was bleeding too. Levi sat up and lit an oil lamp to get a better look. He alarmed when he spotted your lips, chin and hands already stained in the crimson liquid. “Are you alright?” He placed his hand on your cheek and swiped away your tears with his thumb.

“Yeah” you sniffled. “It must be just stress, I’m sorry for waking you up”

Levi planted a kiss on your forehead before getting off the bed. He came back from the bathroom with a damp cloth and cleaned the dry blood from your face and hands. He then changed the bed sheets as well as your stained night gown, and went back to bed, his hand caressing your hair until you fell asleep again.

Several days later a ticklish sensation manifested in your hands and feet, but you shrugged it off claiming it was anxiety for the upcoming expeditions. Nevertheless, the tingling feeling became more recurrent, and spread to your arms and legs. Then came the numbness that engulfed your limbs and the declined in your grip strength that hindered your performance, and put your life in great danger during one of the expeditions. Levi grew tired of your shitty excuses and forced you to go see a doctor, since Hange and Moblit couldn’t find a cause for the unusual signs.

But nothing had prepared you for the news you were about to received. According to the doctor, you suffered from a brain degenerative disease that didn’t have a cure, nor a known root cause; and the worst part: your symptoms would aggravate with time.

“He must be overreacting” you weakly smiled when you left the doctor’s office. “It can’t be that bad” you knew it was, though. Remembrances of your early childhood came back. You’d never understood why your mother was left disabled and bedridden for so long before passing away until that moment; and the doctor’s words had confirmed your greatest fear: you had inherited the same illness that had taken your mother’s life.

Little by little, you went from trembling to limping to nearly lost the mobility of your lower body. The muscle mass you had gained through the years of military training was vanishing, and the pain had become unbearable, not even the strongest medication brought relief.

Now, you were lying in bed with Levi, resting your head on his chest and having your legs intertwined with his, while he pressed soft kisses on your head.

“Levi” you muttered. “Forgive my selfishness. Sometimes I wish I was death” He scowled at your words and lifted his head. “Oi, don’t say that” His gaze saddened when he glanced at your glistening eyes.

“You know it’d be better for both of us. I won’t be in pain anymore and you won’t have to deal with this burden”

“Stop it, I don’t wanna hear it” He clenched his fist and took a deep breath to restrain his tears. “I can’t lose you, (name). I might be the selfish one, but I don’t know what I’d do without you”

You chuckled.

“What? I didn’t say anything funny”

You shook your head. “I just remembered the day I told you I wanted you to be the father of my kids. You almost choke on your tea” you giggled.

“Yeah, pretty funny...” He remarked sarcastically.

“They’ve would’ve been so cute, you know, with your hair and eyes” you sighed. “Isn’t it a cruel joke of the universe to lead me to you and not let us age together?”

“Hey...” His eyes filled with tears. “You’re talking like you’ve already given up”

“I’m just tired”

Yes. You were tired of everything. You couldn’t stand the pain, the useless medication, the pity stares. You were tired of being a burden to your friends, and mainly to Levi.

“Get some sleep, I’ll bake your favorite cookies tomorrow morning”

“That sounds good”

“They’re not as good as yours, though”

“No one can beat my recipe”

“Cocky, aren’t we?”

You chuckled. “Can we have chai tea with the cookies?”

“Chai tea will be”

You closed your eyes and the corners of your mouth lifted. Levi’s beating heart was steady and relaxing. “I love you, Levi”

“I love you too, (name)” He waited for you to fall asleep before he succumbed to slumber. His poor sleeping habits eased when you were lying by his side; you had become his shelter, the light of his eyes and the only person he had fully opened his heart to.

Levi woke up first the following morning with you peacefully asleep, your head buried in his chest and your arm wrapped around his torso. Too peacefully asleep, indeed. “(name)” he whispered, but didn’t get any response, not even a whine nor your usual 5 more minutes, please. He uncovered your upper body and carefully unwrapped your arm off of him. A hard object hidden under the covers got his attention. He found it and examined the small container.

His eyes went wide as a sharp pain pierced through his heart when he read the label.

His jaw quivered and tears streamed down his face.

His world was shattering around him.

It was the most recent medication prescribed by your doctor.

It wasn’t even a week old and it was supposed to last a month.

But the flask was already empty.

[threecrowsinatrenchcoat]

Plant Your Hope With Good Seeds

Dukeceit Week Day 3: Snakes/Bugs

Remus and Janus break up. But literally everyone knows that's not what they want. Everyone, including their plants.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 4337

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

-

Unknown Number

hey so i kno i said i wouldnt text u but rupert isnt doin good. can i bring him back? he misses u

Janus stared at the text for several minutes. Rupert was, of course, the Monstera Variegata that he and Remus had raised together all the way from propagation. It had been one of the pride and joys of their plant collection. Losing Rupert in the split had hurt almost as much as losing Remus.

...Almost. 

Janus

Is it getting enough light? Remember it needed the grow light even next to the window. 

Janus texted back against his better judgement. He and Remus were broken up. They’d agreed not to text for a while. They’d agreed to give each other space, get used to being apart. 

It sucked, though. The apartment felt empty without Remus and half their plant collection.

Unknown Number

ya i kno. but i don’t have any south facign windows here. our place is better

Unknown Number

i mean ur place

Janus sighed morosely. Well, if it was for Rupert…

Janus

Fine. Rupert can come back.

Unknown Number

yay! ill be in town this weekend. ill bring him ok?

Janus

Ok.

And then Janus promptly threw his phone across the room.

Because here’s the thing. Janus and Remus were broken up. Remus had moved eight hours away and everything. He’d been accepted into the Nuclear Engineering graduate program a state away, and they had both heard too many horror stories about long-distance relationships to brother trying. So they’d had a very civil and mutual split. Janus kept the apartment. Remus took the TV. And they’d divided their plant family between them: they each kept their favorites, and Remus had taken the hardier plants, while Janus kept the ones that were likely not to survive an interstate move.

And then… Remus left.

And Janus had not immediately wanted him back. Not at all.

(And, of course, Janus was lying to himself.)

Remus texted him Saturday morning that he was on his way, and Janus spent the first few hours of the wait stress-cleaning. He then checked on every single plant in the apartment. Watered the ones that needed it. Rotated some of the more vivacious growers so that they wouldn’t lean full-body toward their light source. Moved his small army of Sansevierias out to the apartment balcony for some extra sun.   

Then, when all that still failed to fill up the entire eight hours of waiting, he started stress-cooking. So by the time Remus texted that he’d just gotten off the highway, Janus had himself a pot of minestrone soup simmering on the stove, a tray of made-from-scratch lasagna in the oven, and was mixing up a batch of double chocolate chip cookies. 

There was no way he was going to eat all this food himself, he realized. He was so used to booking big meals like this, because Remus ate like he was three people. And lasagna was his favorite.

“Oh, Jake, what am I doing?” he groaned to the N’Joy Pothos that cascaded down the side of the refrigerator. And then his doorbell rang. 

Janus opened the door to find Remus, dancing awkwardly from foot to foot, with his face half-hidden behind the green-and-white leaves of Rupert. 

“...Hey,” Remus said, sounding sheepish. Janus’ heart clenched.

“Hi,” he said. They stood there in the doorway for a full minute before Janus stepped back and motioned for Remus to follow. Remus hesitated, but obeyed. 

“Uh… I’ll just…” Remus looked around. Janus hated how uncomfortable he looked. Until about two weeks ago, this had been Remus’ apartment, too. “Can I put him in his old spot?”

“Sure,” Janus replied with a nod. Rupert’s old spot had been in the bedroom, where the big, beautiful south-facing window let in a ton of light. He’d moved Venus de Milos, his Marble Queen Pothos, and La Hoya Jackson, the finicky Hoya Carnosa that Remus had wanted but didn’t expect to make the 8-hour drive without going into shock, to free up Rupert’s spot. Remus hesitated again, before he nodded awkwardly and wandered off to the bedroom, all three feet of plant and two gallons of soil in tow. Janus went to the oven and took out the lasagna. 

“Howl looks good,” Remus said when he came back into the kitchen. Janus glanced up from where he was laying balls of cookie dough out onto baking sheets. 

“Thank you,” he replied. Howl was their dramatic fiddle leaf fig tree, which had decided to throw a fit just before Remus left. “I switched it to a terracotta pot with peat moss and pearlite, and doubled its water intake. It seems to be tolerating it well.”

“Good.” There was a long pause. Then,” How are you?”

Janus looked back to the cookies. “I’m doing well,” he lied. “And you? Do you start class soon?”

“Next week,” Remus answered. “And, uh. Yeah, I’m doin’ good.” Another long pause. “Uh… I’ll just. Head out, I guess.”

“You could stay,” Janus blurted out. Shit. “For dinner, I mean.” He gestured to the tray of lasagna, fresh from the oven. “If you want.”

Remus gave him an uncharacteristically shy smile, then nodded slowly. He didn’t say anything, though, so Janus just gestured for him to take a seat at the table. And then he joined him, a plate of lasagna for each of them.

“So tell me, how’s living with Roman again?” Janus asked, a few bites into the meal, because he could not take the awkward silence a moment longer.

“It’s ok,” Remus answered. He shoveled another forkful of lasagna into his mouth. “This is really good, Jan.”

Janus smiled softly. “Thank you.” A pause. “Roman doesn’t mind all the plants?”

“Nah, he’s dating this guy Patton who apparently loves plants, so the apartment being full of houseplants is a huge plus to him now.”

“Good for him.” The oven timer went off, startling him slightly. He started to get up, but Remus waved him off.

“I got ‘em, you did all the cooking.”

Janus didn’t protest. Remus got up and took the cookies out of the oven. And he even moved them to a cooling rack like Janus had taught him to do. He came back to the table. 

“How’s work?���

Janus sighed. “Oh, terrible as always,” he answered. “I really must start looking for a new job.”

“Finally getting fed up?” Remus teased. Janus rolled his eyes. More seriously, Remus continued, “You deserve better, Jan. You gotta find some place that treats you right and pays you what you’re worth.”

“Thank you, Remus.”

“And hey, just sayin’, I still think you’d make an excellent stripper.”

Janus snorted at that. “I haven’t fully ruled out that particular career change.”

They fell easily back into their usual banter, lingering late into the night over a dessert of milk and cookies. It was pushing 10pm when Remus glanced at his phone and cursed softly. Janus glanced at his phone as well.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so late,” he said. Remus shrugged.

“Nah, it’s cool. Thanks for dinner, Jan. It was real good, as always.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Uh… well, the plan was to stay with Logan, but I guess he had some kind of family emergency, so I don’t wanna trouble him. I’ll probably see if I can find a hotel room.”

Janus’ brow furrowed at that. “Why don’t you just stay here?”

“Oh, uh. I don’t wanna trouble you. I kinda feel like I already overstayed my welcome a bit?”

“Nonsense. A hotel room will cost you at least $100 for the night, and that’s simply ridiculous,” Janus insisted. “You should just stay here.”

Remus worried at his lip, which Janus knew meant he was mulling over his options. Then, he nodded. “If it’s not a bother?”

“Of course not. You’re not a bother, Remus.”

Remus’ eyes softened, and he smiled. “Ok. Thank you. Oh… lemmie go get my overnight back outta my truck.”

When Remus came back inside, Janus had just about finished making up the couch. 

“Hey, you don’t gotta get all fancy,” Remus teased. “You know I can sleep basically anywhere.”

“This is for me,” Janus replied. He fluffed up one of the pillows a bit more. “You take the bed.”

An odd look flashed across Remus’ face. “No way, Jan. I’m good on the couch.”

“Remus, you just drove eight hours, and you’re doing it again tomorrow. I am not letting you fuck up your back.”

‘I don’t-”

“Yes you do, no matter how often you say you can sleep anywhere,” Janus scoffed. “You can’t lie to me.”

Remus’ eyes softened, and after a moment, he sighed. “Ok, Jan. But what about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You hate sleeping on couches.”

“It’s only one night-”

“And don’t you work tomorrow?”

“Yes, but-”

“You’re going to be so grumpy at work without a proper night’s sleep.”

“I’m usually grumpy at work anyway,” Janus pointed out. Remus snorted.

“Ok, that’s true. But I don’t want you to be even grumpier,” he said. “Let’s just share the bed.”

Janus eyed him for a moment. This was a terrible idea. They should not do this.

“Ok,” Janus said anyway.

They got ready for bed in awkward silence, which just made Janus miss Remus’ long, rambling chatter that much more. When Janus finished in the bathroom, he found Remus sitting gingerly on what used to be his side of the bed. Janus came over and sat down on the other side.

“Hey, uh… thanks,” Remus said. “For lettin’ me stay.”

“Of course,” Janus answered. “I… I still think of you as a friend, Remus.”

At that. Remus grimaced slightly. He didn’t say anything, seeming unable to find the right words. Before he could, Janus pulled back the top blankets on the bed and laid down. After a moment, Remus did the same.

“Good night, Remus,” Janus said quietly.

“...Good night, Janus,” Remus answered. Then he reached over and shut off the light.

-

Remus played that night over and over in his head in the days after he got home, and each and every time, he was just as stumped. 

He knew, in his brain, why he and Janus had broken up. It had been the only thing that made sense at the time, when the facts were just that Remus was moving away to pursue a lifelong dream, and Janus would never ever try to stop him from doing so. So they broke up. It made sense… right? 

But… That morning, he’d woken up to Janus curled up in his arms, face smushed against Remus’ neck, and… Remus had completely forgotten why they had even broken up in the first place.

Remus was back at Roman’s apartment, now. Eight hours away in his own cold bed, arms empty of the man he loved, just staring at the ceiling. A sharp knock on his door snapped him out of his daze.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” Roman called. “Don’t you have class in like an hour?”

“Fuck!” Remus scrambled to get up, but succeeded only in rolling out of the bed.

“Don’t forget to lock the door when you leave,” Roman added. Clearly he was unconcerned by the loud “thump” of a body hitting the floor. 

“Yup, got it,” Remus groaned in reply. He staggered, successfully this time, to his feet. 

Getting dressed was a rushed affair of ‘grab whatever’s closest,’ and soon he emerged from the bedroom with one shoe on, the other in his hand, and his backpack slung over one shoulder. He rushed into the kitchen to grab the travel mug of coffee Janus always set out for him in the mornings. And then the realization hit: Janus didn’t live here.

Remus dropped his shoe. 

The rest of the day went about as well as it could have gone without any coffee- that is to say, terribly. He got lost trying to get to campus, then he got lost again trying to get to class. Then he got stuck in traffic on the way back to Roman’s apartment. And then, to top it all off, the grocery store had been out of his favorite chips. 

So here he was, mopey and chip-less, and fucking exhausted. He dumped his backpack and collapsed face-first onto the couch. Roman, who happened to be sitting on said couch, made a noise of protest.

“Move, I need to sulk,” Remus mumbled, though his voice was thoroughly muffled by Roman’s thigh, since that was where his face had landed. 

“What on earth do you need to sulk for?” Roman asked incredulously. He moved to shove Remus off of him, but Remus went full ragdoll, and Roman couldn’t do a damn thing. “You are a grown man, you know.”

Remus turned his head just enough to stick his tongue out at Roman. Roman stuck his tongue out back.

“I had a terrible day, I earned a good sulk.”

“Didn’t like your classes?”

“Nah, they were great.”

“Professors?”

“Great.”

“Classmates?”

“Great.”

“Then Zeus Almighty, what are you so mopey-dopey about?” Roman remanded.

Remus squirmed around so he was laying on his back, head still in Roman’s lap, to look up at his brother. “So… uh… you promise not to get all, like. I told you so and shit?” 

“You miss Janus!”

“No! I-”

“You do!” Roman crowed triumphantly. Remus rolled onto his side so he didn’t have to look at his brother’s dumb gloaty face.

“...Maybe,” he groaned. Abruptly, he clamored to his feet and started for the stairs. “I gotta go build a chair.”

“Carpentry won’t solve your relationship problems,” Roman called after him.

“I know,” Remus called back. “Wrong type of wood.” If Roman had a response to that, Remus was already out the door and didn’t have to hear it. 

Patton found him out in front of the apartment building some time later, a jigsaw in hand, and a pile of cut wooden dowels at his feet.

“Hey, kiddo, what are you up to?”

Remus looked up from where he was balancing a plank of wood precariously across a milk crate, because his work table was one of the things he’d had to leave behind at Janus’ place.

“Oh, hey. Ro-bro’s upstairs.”

Patton gave him the sort of smile teachers gave to the kid they caught eating glue for the fourth time. “That doesn’t look super safe. Do you want any help?”

Remus took in Patton’s soft blue sweater and the dad-jeans from the nicer end of his closet, as well as the reusable grocery store bag that smelled suspiciously like some kind of lovely home-cooked meal; he shook his head. “You look dressed for a date night,” he said. “I don’t wanna fuck up two relationships this week.”

Patton’s eyes, impossibly, got even bigger and softer than they normally were, which honestly was quite the feat. He walked over to the stairs but, instead of making his way up to Roman’s apartment, he plopped down on the third step, facing Remus. Remus stared, bewildered.

“Uh, what’chu doin’ there, pops?”

“Well, it just sounded like you needed to talk,” Patton replied cheerfully. “So here I am.”

Remus stared a moment longer, somehow even more bewildered than before. “Uh…”

“I know I haven’t known you very long,” Patton continued. “But something tells me you’re the type of person who busts out the power tools when you’re upset.”

“How the hell can you tell that?”

Patton glanced over his shoulder, then leaned forward slightly. “Because,” he said, voice lowered conspiratorially. “I’m like that too.”

Remus blinked. “You?”

“Yup! I replaced all the tables and chairs in my house with ones I made myself after my last breakup,” Patton giggled. “Only two of them collapsed when I sat in them, too!”

Remus glanced down at the jigsaw in his hands, and then he sighed. He set it down, and went to sit next to Patton on the steps. 

“Ok, well. Yeah, maybe I’m kinda upset.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah? No? Maybe?”

“Yup, those are your three options!” Patton teased. Remus rolled his eyes.

“Ok, fine. You win, daddy-o. I’m upset because I miss my boyfriend. Or, well, my ex-boyfriend. I want him to be my boyfriend again.”

“Have you told him that?”

“Of course not,” Remus whined.

“Why not?”

“Because… I mean. It wouldn’t change anything. I still moved away. And I don’t even know if he’d want to be my boyfriend again either. Maybe he’s happier now.”

“You don’t know that,” Patton said gently. “Sure, maybe the circumstances aren’t the best right now, but if you both want it, things have a funny way of working out. But you have to talk to him.”

“I…” Remus paused. And then he sighed deeply. “I guess you’re right. Hey thanks, that did actually sorta help.”

Patton offered him a gentle smile. “Of course, Remus! Any time!”

“Hey!”

They both turned to see Roman standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed.

“My own brother, hogging my boyfriend like this! The betrayal-”

“Relax, Ro, he’s not my type,” Remus shot back. “I prefer sarcastic little menaces.”

Patton giggled at that. He stood up and patted Remus on the shoulder. “I hope things work out,” he said. Remus smiled back.

“Yeah, I hope so too.”

Really, he just wanted Janus to be happy. Ideally with him, but if Janus was happier without him, well… so be it. 

- - -

Janus was miserable. 

“Dude, c’mon,” Virgil grumbled, immediately upon seeing the state of the apartment. “You’ve been watering your plants and filling the humidifiers, but you can’t be bothered to throw out your gross pizza boxes?” A pause. “Wait, you don’t even like pizza, what the hell.”

Janus just shrugged. After letting Virgil and Logan into the apartment, he’d gone straight back into blanket-burrito-on-the-couch mode. And really, he’d only bothered to get up and let them inside in the first place because Virgil had threatened to axe down the door- and Janus knew for a fact that Virgil owned multiple axes. 

“I believe he is engaging in what is described as ‘emotional eating,’ or using food as a coping mechanism in a time of stress and emotional turmoil,” Logan said helpfully. Virgil just huffed.

“That’s fine and all, but Jesus Christ, dude.” He gestured around the livingroom where… ok, yeah, it was a mess.

“Did you two come here just to insult me?” Janus grumbled. His face was half-mashed into a pillow, though, so who knows how much of that was actually discernible.

“We came to make sure you were still alive,” Virgil snapped, indicating that at least most of what Janus had said was discernible. “You weren’t answering any texts.”

“Yes, and you called out of work three days in a row,” Logan added. “We are concerned for you, Janus.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Janus lied from the comfort of his depression blanket burrito. He was not particularly surprised when neither Virgil or Logan looked even remotely convinced.

“Alright, drastic measure time,” Virgil growled. He walked over to the window, and picked up the young Burgundy Rubber Tree Janus had yet to name. Janus sat bolt upright. 

“Virgil? Don’t you dare-”

Virgil walked past him and vanished down the hall. When he came back, his hands were empty, and he had a smirk on his face.

“Oh, fuck you,” Janus hissed. He dragged himself up off the couch to go rescue the poor thing, finding it stashed in the dark, windowless bathroom. When he came back to the livingroom, Virgil and Logan were sprawled across the couch.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Janus set the rubber tree back on the windowsill alongside the Snake Plant Army. “Ok, I’m up. Are you heathens happy now?”

“I take offense to that,” Logan muttered, while Virgil just crossed his arms and said, curtly, “Spill it.”

“Spill what?”

“Why are you so upset?”

“I’m not upset-”

“Falsehood,” Logan interrupted. “I have known you since high school, Janus, and I have never seen you like this before. It is highly alarming.”

“Is this about Remus?” Virgil asked.

“No,” Janus said immediately. “Of course not.”

Virgil and Logan exchanged a Look. Janus groaned.

“Fuck. Ok, fine. Maybe it is.”

“Was that so hard?” Virgil asked. 

“Yes.”

“You-”

“Janus,” Logan interrupted Virgil’s retort. “It is my understanding that emotional distress is often alleviated through, as they say, ‘talking it out.’ It is clear you are not handling the break-up as well as you initially believed-”

“Of course I’m not!” Janus snapped. He took a deep breath, and turned back to the plants on his windowsill. Kaa, the Sansevieria Moonshine Remus had gotten for Janus as an anniversary present last year, was already leaning slightly toward the window again. He rotated it, and a few of the other snake plants on the sill. And then he realized the others had been quiet for far too long. He turned to find them both watching him with sympathetic expressions. “What?”

“Keep going,” Virgil prompted. Janus sighed. He felt exhausted.

“Of course I’m not,” he said again. “Because I love Remus.”

“And?” Virgil prompted.

“...And I didn’t want us to break up,” he finished, feeling glum. Wordlessly, Virgil stood up, and approached Janus, arms out. Janus stepped into the embrace. Nobody said anything; Janus didn’t cry, but he stood there for a long time. Then, he stepped back.

“Thank you,” he said, and he meant it. Virgil gave him a small smile. Logan cocked his head, seeming confused.

“I don’t understand. You just… needed a hug?”

“Hugs are great, Logan,” Virgil replied. “You should try them sometime- hey, where are you going?”

Janus strode past them both, beelining for his bedroom to find his laptop. Over his shoulder, he answered, “To fill out some job applications.”

- - -

Remus was outside building a new bookshelf- because Patton was moving in, and Roman's teenie-tiny sad little excuse for a bookshelf, which held only Disney DVDs and no actual books, wouldn’t suffice for all of Patton’s cookbooks- when his phone rang. Which was weird, because nobody ever called him, because he never fucking answered.

“Not interested, Mr. Spam Man,” he crooned over the sound of the generic iPhone ringtone. He was learning how to do kerf bending for this bookcase, and goddamn it he wasn’t going to be distracted by-

His phone started ringing again. He swore and ripped off his gloves to silence his phone. But as he did so, he realized the number flashing across his screen was a familiar one. 

“Janus? Are you ok?” he answered the call, half panicked, because Janus hated phone calls almost as much as he did.

“Hi. Yes, everything’s fine.” Janus sounded slightly hysterical, which made Remus feel even more frantic. “Where are you?”

“I’m at Roman’s. Are you sure you’re ok-”

“Great, don’t leave. I’ll be right there.”

“What does that mean-” Remus demanded, but the line was already dead. Remus swore again. He briefly considered calling him back, because what the actual fuck was that all about, but he was only about 30 seconds into that brief consideration before a familiar car tearing through the apartment complex parking lot caught his attention. He quickly brushed as much of the sawdust off his clothes as he could because holy shit Janus had just parked right there in front of Roman’s apartment.

Remus watched, dumbfounded, as Janus scrambled out of his car- dressed in his very nice black suit and pale yellow button-up- and came running across the lawn toward where Remus was working. He had a tiny plant clutched to his chest.

“Uh, Jan, you good?” Remus asked. Janus stopped in front of him and doubled over, breathless, for a few moments. Then, he straightened up, and fixed Remus with a look of sheer determination.

“Remus. I want to get back together.”

Remus’ heart, the traitorous bastard, leaped up into his throat and blocked all his words from coming out. 

“It’s… it’s ok if you don’t want that,” Janus continued. His look of determination faltered slightly. “It’s ok. But I needed to tell you. Because I love you, so much. And I… I didn’t want you to think I didn’t, even if you don't-”

Remus found his words abruptly. “Jan, fuck! I do! I do love you. I never stopped loving you. All I want is to be with you.”

Janus’ eyes softened. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Good, because I’ve just been offered a job here.”

Remus choked. Janus was eyeing him smugly. “You. Just like that, you got a job here?”

“Just like that,” Janus grinned. “I just came from the interview. They offered me a position on the spot.”

Remus couldn't help himself any longer. He lurched forward and pulled Janus tightly into his arms.

“Hey, be careful,” Janus said, though he made absolutely no effort to get out of Remus’ embrace. “You’ll crush our new son.”

Remus pulled back just enough to look at the small plant Janus held in his hands, and only then did his brain register what it was. 

“Is! Is that-”

“Yes,” Janus replied, holding up the tiny Drosera Capensis seedling. Remus had wanted one of these for ages.

“For me?”

“Well, for us, ideally,” Janus answered, with a shy smile. “But, mostly for you, yes.”

Remus gently plucked the baby octopus plant- their new son!- from Janus’ hands, and placed it carefully on top of the milk crate that was serving as his carpentry workbench. Then, he hoisted Janus up off the ground and spun him around.

“Oh- Re-” Janus exclaimed, though he was laughing. “Put me down!”

“No!” Remus trilled. He spun Janus around once more. Then he just stood there, holding Janus, gazing up at him. Janus’ eyes grew soft. Slowly, he carded his fingers through Remus’ hair.

“Hey,” Janus said.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Remus set Janus down, but kept his arms still wrapped tightly around him. His heart felt warm.

“Hey.”

Janus looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“I love you, too.” 

[crown-anon]

@hearts1ck my beloved

November 1st

CW: explicit; more CWs under the cut

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; reader has male anatomy; more specifics under the cut

edited 14 March 2021

anonymous asked

consider. okay. CONSIDER. consider masochist george. okay?? okay. okay LISTEN.

I think I have a problem with gimmicks also. because. because. ever since strawberry milk george, I. I have not stopped thinking about strawberry flavored lube. because! listen okay hear me out.

(this is absolutely 110% a response to discovering that you share a birthday with him. what of it?)

I know everyone likes pillow princess george and. that's okay. that's FINE. these are not mutually exclusive.

george looking up at you with The LookTM wearing some pink strawberry milk lingerie. not even lingerie really! just something cute like that

& him being like. "I know you love me 👉👈 but I need you to fuck me like you don't"

so I was. thinking. that brat george is the exact kind of person to say (playfully & consensually) "but I don't wanna give you head, I just wanna fuck >:(" after you've got him worked up, maybe from teasing him throughout the day, or edging him a little. but you still need some type of lube. so you go to apply the first bottle you see and he's pink when he asks you "😳 is that ... strawberry ... ?" and you're confused like ??? bro you just asked me to fuck you into next week why're you interested in the flavored lube

but. but listen. he would get so enthusiastic about it. at first it's just "maybe I can stand to eat them out just a little bit before ..." and then after you come the first time it devolves really, really quickly into the need to just. take care of you. and it stretches on until you've come three or four times, and you're still shaking, and he's just. completely gone in subspace

hmm ... george climbing up onto your lap when he's done with you, going in to give you a kiss, and he tastes like strawberry. and he ends up moaning right into your mouth because he's been so horny but so? understimulated?? that he outright jumps as soon as his dick grazes your thigh. it would only take a couple stuttery grinds before he's finishing on both of your stomachs

and he's just so cute when comes, or when he bites down on your shoulder to keep himself quiet. and it's your birthdays. so, you decide you'll give him a reason to cry. and he'll finally get put in his place! it's a win-win for both of you!!

istg every time I send you an ask I discover something new about myself. you. you have made a dreamteam simp out of me. I am but a shell of the man I once was. I think I should thank you? [👑]

hearts1ck

i say this nearly every time you send stuff in but...... by god you own my soul. all of it. this – i – first of all, the implications of masochist george losing his fucking mind when you’re rough with him? guhhhfjklgjgf. and ,..d,,f,,, ,, ,, george in pink lingerie. i. i . a... pink satin slip maybe or .... ohghfd; oh my god those. that cat panty/bra set. im ascending im losing my brain as i type this i cannot –

okay im back on earth. he’d get into that rhythm and settle like liquid while he gets to work on you, and his subspace face is so self-satisfied and nearly smug so he’s just having the time of his life,,, and he makes such a loud noise when his dick twitches against your thigh and maybe... JUST MAYBE he whimpers extra watery when you drag his hips to grind against where you’re wet and dripping/your spent cock as if he’s the one who’d get overstimulated by it. when he finally leans away, eyelids heavy, you gently fit your hand over his jaw and ask, “did you even ask? it’s one thing to come without permission, but not even caring to ask? georgie, i might just be offended,” and he whines “green”s against your neck before you even check-in

and because u made it abt both of our birthdays ,,,, spanks for each year we’ve been alive methinks ??? and then the scratch down his ass gets him hard again and he’s so embarrassed by it, ,,, , ,, ,, ,, ,, ,

also thank god you’ve joined the george boat. i’m so proud of myself for hopefully being part of the reason you got dragged over here HJFKDHSKD

#👑 anon #(my beloved) #keep #anon thoughts: george #redsick #SHAWTY WANT THE WHOLE CREW SHAWTY BAD

as soon as you said birthday spanks I decided I had to write more about this. and I was going to leave more snippets in your askbox like the fucking gremlin creature I am, but then my thoughts started. actually having structure? and then I started writing it. and I tried to do homework and write on study breaks only but. I just kept coming back to this. this is the polar opposite of writer's block. I think I'm cursed or something. so here I am rushing to finish this so that I may rest in peace!!

yes I've been writing nonstop since I sent you that ask. what of it. what the fuck of it.

when I said I discover something new about myself every time we interact, I. I'm serious. I think I might be insane or something. I'm way too sadistic. you'll see. what the fuck is this? what the fuck did I just write??

this would have done so much critical psychic damage if I had posted it on November 1st in real life, but mental illness says I can't let my horny thoughts rattle around in my brain for that long. so!! it's you guys's problem now xoxoxo

I'm not fucking proofreading this. love you though 💗

I did end up proofreading actually. oops! looks like posting at 23:00 isn't always a good idea.

November 1st

CW: explicit, anal (kind of vague), bondage (collar + leash), corruption, domspace (I think??), edging, handjob, humiliation, masochism, oral, praise, sadism, spanking, subspace, swearing. I call George a whore and a slut at least once. and also, George calls yellow at one point. this one kind of surprised me so just. Be Careful. I cannot believe I wrote this. I don't know where this came from.

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; I use the word "sir;" reader has male anatomy; I use the words "cock," "dick," and "head;" reader can ejaculate

—

dawn shines through drawn curtains, illuminating the tile floor and your robed figure reflecting off it. batter sizzles in the skillet as you flip the last pancake over. this side looks golden brown, like honeycomb or caramelized sugar. that delicious, freshly-baked fragrance mingles with scented candles. it's perfect, you smile. he's going to love it.

you lift the pancake with a spatula, stacking it on top of the others on his plate. you bring it to his seat at the table, along with the butter, the syrup, the honey, the jam…and you go to pour him a drink.

"hey baby," you greet warmly to the sleepyhead rubbing his eyes in the entryway, still clinging to a pillow. his hair's a mess, only wearing socks and a sweatshirt that reaches down past his thighs. you reckon he'd only just crawled out of bed.

"morning…" he yawns, stumbling past you to take his seat.

"milk?" you ask, he only nods. "did you sleep okay?"

he hums affirmatively. "I…can we…"

one track mind, you joke inwardly. but you don't blame him. "of course," you open the fridge.

you hear him pause. "…is it too early for that?"

"no, no!" you give him a lighthearted laugh. "I kind of expected it, to be honest…I want it, too."

he's silent under the noise of you rummaging through the fridge. "I—"

"sorry—it looks like all we have is strawberry milk. is that alright?"

"yeah…yeah, that's alright. I…actually…wanted to try something new." you shut the fridge, he's fidgeting in his seat.

"hit me with it," your expression is gentle. you pass his cup off to him, but he holds his hand over yours a little too long, looking up at you.

"fuck me like you hate me."

you don't know if it's hearing him swear, or the way he said it so calmly, or how he closed his eyes and swallowed hard before his tone could dip down into something lower. but like a match in an torrent of gasoline, suddenly you're burning up.

you only realize you're staring when he bites his lip and looks down. you start to say something, but the words don't form.

he laughs nonthreateningly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "is that a yes?"

you laugh with him. "I…yes, absolutely yes." you turn back around to make your own stack of pancakes. "you should eat first, though."

"what?" he teases. "will I need the energy?"

you smile. "yeah. I think you will." you can practically feel him open his mouth in protest, but he stays silent after that.

and it stays mostly silent while you cook your pancakes. you hear the clinking of his fork on his plate, but it isn't very disruptive. it sounds like he's hurrying to finish his food.

when you go back to the table with your own platter, he's already done eating. he's red down to his neck, fidgeting with the hem of his sweatshirt, looking at you expectantly. you spot a pair of tassels peeking out from under it, just below his hip bones. is that…

he pulls the hem up just a bit, holding your gaze. he smiles, apparently satisfied watching your face heat up.

"I—you should go…go get ready," you manage. he gets up before you even finish your sentence, only stopping to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

except it isn't quick, when he slides his hand down to rest firmly on your collar, and leans in to trail kisses down your neck. "a-and leave that on," you stutter.

he pauses, just under your jaw. "leave what on?" he murmurs.

your breath catches, you shut your eyes. "whatever the fuck it is you're wearing under there."

he's hardly grazing your skin, but you can feel how hot he is next to you. it takes all of your willpower not to shiver.

he pulls back quickly, only his hand lingering. "I don't know what you're talking about." and just like that, he disappears into your bedroom.

you reach up a hand tentatively to your collar, hot to the touch. I'm in way too deep, you decide, and force yourself to take a bite of your food despite your nerves.

—

"that," you hiss. "that fucking outfit. that."

"oh, this?" he bites his lip, hooking his thumb in the keyhole. "this's just what I went to bed in last night."

"fuck you. we both know that isn't true."

he tugs gently on his top, pulling it a little to the side. "what's the big deal? can't I wear something special for my birthday?"

"it's special, all right," and you leave it at that, opting instead to slot between his legs where he sits waiting on the edge of the bed. you bring up a hand to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb across his cheek. you'll never get enough of the way he looks at you, like you're intoxicating.

…? you frown.

"is something…missing?" he perks up instantly at "missing."

"what…?" he chooses his words carefully.

"the collar—your collar. where is it?" you turn away to start going through your bedside table, but the way his lips quirk up into a sly smile isn't lost on you.

that's lube…that's a vibrator…where the fuck is it…? "w-what collar?" he stumbles over his words.

your mind jumps to say, the collar that came with that outfit, or I know you know what I'm talking about, but you won't give him the satisfaction. you decide to speak a little darker, only a firm "George." you hear him swallow.

"w-well," his voice is shaky, "you only told me to leave on whatever I was wearing under my shirt. and…I wasn't wearing that collar at breakfast…s-so technically…"

you stop looking immediately. you turn to take him in, legs crossed, stance confident, but expression showing uncertainty. you can see the regret on his face. "get up." he takes a shallow breath. "get up."

"I'm—"

"don't I'm sorry me," you snap. "you look for your fucking collar on your own."

he slips off the bed, looking ashamed, but starts digging through the drawer all the same. "I really am sorry," he murmurs. you take his place sitting on the bed. he finds what he's looking for rather quickly: a simple white leather collar with a bell, and a leash. he hands them off to you shyly. "um, here…"

"good boy," you praise. "kneel."

he shuts his eyes and does as he's told. you can see the bliss wash over his face just at being ordered around. his lips part a little as he lets out a heavy breath. if only I knew what this would do to him, you muse, I'd have done this ages ago.

you fasten the collar, revelling in how he shivers at the gentle sensation of cold leather hanging around his neck. you leave it a little bit loose, but still comfortable, and hook the leash in its place. he sits obediently still on his knees, looking deep in thought.

"Oh, I know what I'm gonna do to you," you bait. "how old are you today?"

"mmm. twenty-five." he looks down.

you smile, holding tight onto the leash. "I'm gonna edge you. twenty-five times."

he flinches away immediately, yet hums in pleasant surprise when the leash snaps taught. the bell jingles stiffly. "no way. that's way too much."

"I think you should've thought about that before you wore that to breakfast," you decide, tugging a little. he's caught off-guard and stumbles forward, stopping himself by leaving a clumsy pair of kisses on the inside of your thigh. the metal and leather feel refreshingly cool against your feverish skin. "we've got all day, baby."

you expect to hear some kind of protest, you're crazy. or a playful taunt, I'm better off doing this by myself. but he knits his brows and openly moans at the thought. "all day…" he repeats.

he looks up at you, almost pleading, and you can hear the resignation in his voice when he whispers "alright."

"get up here," you command. "on top of me." as he climbs up into your lap, a little too eagerly, you add, "and take your dick out."

you shrug your robe off your shoulders while he's working on his panties, and without thinking, you ask, "color?"

he stops, leaving his head poking cutely over the waistband. he looks up at you again. "…what?"

"um…color," you explain. "like, how are you doing? is this okay? I don't actually want to hurt you. uhhh…green means good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop."

he stifles a laugh. "you're such a nerd. I'm okay."

"alright." you blush a little. "we can stop whenever you need to. this is for you…" you think of something horribly unsexy to say. "…birthday boy."

now he's really laughing, with his whole body. you think the way it makes his collar jingle is cute. "oh my god. shut up. just shut up," his expression turns serious, and he drops to a whisper, "and fuck me."

that got you hot again. you pull him by the leash into a kiss, you bite his lip, you eat him up. and you grab the both of you together with your other hand, you moan in tandem. you can feel how you took him by surprise in the way he twitches under your thumb, the way he leans into you with his whole body. you part from the kiss and he leans back on his heels, panting hard, holding on to your shoulders for support. you can feel him shaking a little.

when you move your hand all the way up the first time, you squeeze both of your heads gently, and he practically falls into you. muffled in the crook of your neck, he begs, "god, do that again."

so you do. again. and again. what was a string of stuttered breaths turns into a single broken moan as you jerk the both of you off. when you think you're getting close, you let go of yourself to focus all your attention on him.

"fuck, sir," he whines—hahaha, that sir made your cock leak a little. he shut his eyes tight. "I-I-I think—I think I'm—"

just like that, you stop, and he goes slack, practically laying on you. but he doesn't grind back, or even move to touch himself. that won't last very long.

you let him come back down, knowing edging takes a lot out of you; maybe even more so than actually coming does. slowly but surely, his breathing steadies. you rub between his shoulderblades affectionately, still trying to ground yourself, too.

once you've found your voice again, you question, "are you gonna count for me?"

he makes a sound against your skin, somewhere between excitement and fear. "…o-one." you revel in how fucked-out he sounds already.

"one what?" you prod.

he seems at a loss, like he's forgotten himself, what he said. after a minute or two of pondering, he catches on. "…sir."

it's your turn to moan. your dick jumps at the honorific, still mostly untouched against your stomach. "good boy." and you dive back in. twenty-four to go.

—

it's noon. you're working on nineteen. and your partner's getting much more…expressive. he's started biting his hand to keep himself quiet, but he's still…

"I-I—oh fuck, I'm—fuck, I-I'm—I'm—" he whimpers through his teeth. and he yelps, whole body shaking, bell jingling incessantly, when he comes all over your hand and stomach.

you take your hand off him immediately, and this time he does try to reach down, ride through it, but you grab both his wrists to stop him. he grinds down uselessly against your thigh and your dick. although you're still hard, and only a hairline trigger away from coming yourself, it doesn't stop you from keeping this brat in line. you only bite your lip and close your eyes.

he leans his forehead against yours, moving in to give you a kiss, but you push him away.

"did you never learn how to fucking count?" you growl.

he winces. "I-I-I-I'm…I'm sorry—"

you scowl at your hand, covered in come. "here, slut," you raise it up to his lips. "clean this off for me."

he tears up a little, but takes your fingers into his mouth all the same. pretty quickly, though, he spits them back out.

"it doesn't taste good…" he complains.

"oh? oh, it doesn't?" you mock. "but it felt good, when you came without my permission, like a cheap fucking whore."

a couple of tears spill over, roll down his cheeks, yet he says nothing, only moving back in to lap his come off your hand. you can see it in his expression that he's not very happy about it, but he doesn't protest further.

"is this good enough, sir?" he asks, when it seems that he's gotten it all. it looks clean enough, you agree. you grab him by the chin, hooking your thumb in his mouth. you don't even have to tell him to suck.

"you come without my approval again, and it's over. you can go back to playing minecraft—or what-the-fuck-ever—with your friends for your birthday. do you want to sleep on the couch, Georgie?"

if he wasn't crying before, he's definitely crying now. he doesn't shake his head, but he circles your fingertip with his tongue enthusiastically, as if to say, I'll be good, I'll be good this time, looking up at you doe-eyed.

"bend over for me," you demand. "across my lap."

he does so immediately. he slips a little bit while he's changing positions, you hear the bell ring, and he scrambles to correct himself. he settles with his ankles crossed and his head in his hands, propping himself up on his elbows. you feel a little bad, you admit, but you won't budge; he has a safeword, you trust that he'll use it.

"let's try that again," your tone softens. "I want you to count for me, okay?"

he nods.

you pull his panties to the side, pause briefly, and bring down your hand with a satisfying smack.

"ohhhhhh—" he moans, jolting a little. "—holy shit, did you just spank me?"

your stomach drops, you go to rub him gently where you just hit him. "is that okay—?"

"it's hot, it's so hot, fuck," he shifts in your lap. "um, sorry…one."

seriously, something about hearing him swear awakens something in you, every time. you're fired up. you spank him again.

"mmm—two…" is he…? "three…"

you pause to massage his ass again, and to speak. "you're…you're hard again, aren't you?"

you didn't even spank him yet, but he lets out a moan. "fuck, I—I just. I want you. I want this. so, so much."

you wonder if this is actually the same George who was fidgeting with his pillow in the dining room this morning.

"you're so bad, getting turned on by something like this," you tease. he only moans in response.

"four—five—six—seven…" he chokes out. "it's starting to sting…"

you take a break, kneading the skin where your angry red handprint is starting to take shape.

"eight…nine…but god, it hurts so good…" he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. "ten…"

at ten, you linger for a moment, holding a handful of his ass. "does it?"

"yes—yesyesyes," he buries his face in the pillow, and shivers. "fuck, eleven…twelve…"

you pull his panties down to his knees, and switch sides. he lifts his hips up, so I can reach him better, you guess. you don't miss the telltale glint of a butt plug, but you'll get to that later.

"thirteen—fourteen—fifteen—sixteen," he moans between slaps. he's gripping the pillowcase so hard his knuckles are white.

in this new position, the way he jumps with every hit makes his cock brush against yours just right. fuck, you're still hard from earlier. this time you're the one who whimpers.

"seventeen, eighteen," he pauses, breathless. you pull gently on his leash, he arches his back and moans, "n-nineteen." his bell jingles.

he grinds down, just for a moment, and the friction is delicious. you're a little dizzy, you think you might've thrust back. you both sigh at the feeling.

"…t-twenty…see? I-I can count…I'm a good boy…I'm good for you…aren't I?"

"you are," you murmur, but you aren't sure he hears you. "you're so good…"

"twenty-one—twenty-two…I-I feel like I haven't done anything right today…twenty-three…"

"…George…?" you hear a muffled sob.

"twenty-four…" he mumbles.

"George?" you start to get concerned. he just keeps crying. "hey…" you whisper. you gently prompt him to turn him over; the pillow's a little wet. you pull the panties off all the way, and get him out of the bra, which had a little stray come on it. you help him sit up in your lap, and pull him into a hug.

"am I really just a whore…?" he asks brokenly.

"you've been so good for me, baby. you've done everything I've asked." you wipe his tears away with your thumb. "are you okay?"

"but I—" he coughs. "—I came too soon, I came without your permission…"

you kiss his hair, and hold him to your chest. "you've been so patient. I'm proud of you."

he finally wraps his arms around you. "I-I'm sorry."

"nonsense," you reassure. "your comfort takes priority. are you okay? color?"

"I…" he searches for the words. "I dunno. yellow? I…that hurt, I think. being…degraded?"

you comb through his hair with your fingers. "I understand. thank you for telling me. I love you."

—

you stay like that for a minute. you grab him a snack and a drink, but for the most part, you just enjoy each other's company, tangled-up together. you don't bother putting your clothes back on.

it's later in the evening. you're straddling him, peppering his shoulders with kisses, and he's giggling underneath you. he turns over to give you a short and sweet kiss.

"baby?" he says, looking expectantly.

"what is it?" you sit back on your heels.

he hesitates. "…I wanna keep going. from earlier."

you're serious again. "are you sure you're okay?" you grab his hand, bringing it up to kiss his fingertips. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm alright," he assures. "I remember you promising me an all-day thing, though."

you blush, a little surprised by his forwardness. "of course. I think…I…" you laugh. "I wanna fuck you."

"yeah?" he smiles, leaning up close. "show me how much."

you hold his jaw while you kiss him, biting his bottom lip between your teeth. he tastes like the coffee and cream you made him earlier. you feel his breath hitch. he reaches up to hold your shoulders.

you pull back. "hey, blow me first."

"what? why?" he giggled.

"it's been a couple hours, I'm not hard anymore," you coax. "I thought you liked taking orders?"

he cringed. "but come tastes gross!"

you slid off him and hopped off the bed, opening the drawer. "suit yourself. you get to watch me jack off, then."

"fine by me, I think you look good when you masturbate."

"ohhh, I forget, you're too blissed-out to pay attention to how I look when you're getting fucking owned."

"I am not!"

"you are too!" he sticks his tongue out at you.

you open the lid, pouring a little on your hand, a little on your cock. it's translucent pink, seems a little fragrant. you give yourself a couple of strokes with a sigh.

he's quiet for a second, then, shyly, "um…is that…strawberry flavored…?"

you bite your lip. "I thought you weren't gonna give me head?"

"I was just curious." it's a weak lie, but you say nothing.

your eyes are shut, but you can feel him moving around a bit on the bed, you hear his bell ring a couple times. you feel a hand on your thigh, so you decide to peek. and holy shit.

your partner's made his way to the floor, on his knees between your legs, holding his leash in his mouth, his fucking mouth, what the fuck. his thumb's rubbing circles on the inside of your thigh. the half-lidded look he's giving you should be criminal.

"you—I thought you said you wouldn't…" you can't find the words. you reach out and take the leash from his mouth. you see your hand shake in front of you.

"I'm just watching…" he whispers, looking up at you, mesmerized.

you're only able to get a couple of pumps in before he's joining you, hand over yours as you get yourself off. just the extra sensation of somebody else's touch is enough to make you bite back a moan.

"fuck—!" you jolt when he licks a stripe up the underside. he mouths over the head, jerking you off on his own now. you move to grip the sheets in one hand, his leash in the other. and you come without warning. you see it end up on his hand and your stomach before you shut your eyes tight.

he's quiet while you're coming down, just helping you ride it out, giving you kisses on your thighs. when you look back down at him, he's got two of his fingertips in his mouth, licking them clean. he stands up abruptly, it startles you a little. you see his bell ring. and he grabs you by the hips and leans down to your midriff.

"…I don't think I cleaned you off all the way earlier…" he breathes, and he starts to lap up the mess of his and your come that's been on you since this afternoon.

what the fuck. why is this so hot? why is he so hot? all too soon, your spent cock twitches in interest at your lover. he cups it with a hand, smiling against your tummy. you're so sensitive it hurts. you think you mean to say something, but nothing comes out.

"hmm…?" he bites his lip. "you still want some more?" all you can do is whine. at this point, you don't know if it's in protest or invitation.

you don't get the chance to find out either, because fuck, he's really going down on you now. you don't know what the fuck he's doing with his tongue, or where his gag reflex went, but at this rate you're gonna come again.

"George—George, baby, I—slow down, I-I'm—" you plead. his leash slips out of your hand, you tip your head back.

he swallows.

—

the last thing you remember is coming harder than you ever have in your life. you think you held him by his hair. you might've fucked his mouth a little. he's never let you come in his mouth before…fuck…

it's nighttime now. he's riding your thigh, got one of his legs slotted between yours. the friction between his knee and your overstimulated cock feels embarrassingly good. you're so dizzy, all you can articulate is a loud moan. you don't sound at all like you remember. his bell keeps ringing and ringing and ringing as he grinds against you.

he leans down, one arm holding your hip, the other keeping himself propped up. he bites your shoulder, hard, hard enough to bruise. he comes on both of your stomachs.

"George," you beg. you're losing your voice.

"mmmmmmsir," he slurs. "fuck me."

"George, I…" you don't know what you're saying. the end of your sentence turns into a whimper.

"you need me to get you hard again? you need me to rile you up?" he turns to kiss your jaw, feeling around for your dick. "like this?"

"George," you sound urgent, until he squeezes right around the head, and you forget what you were saying. you're pretty fucking close to forgetting who you are entirely.

he sits up on top of you, grinning. "love the way you say my name, sir."

that name. all it takes is the way he says that fucking name and you're ready to go again. you flip the two of you over, so that you're towering over him instead. "you still didn't. fucking. ask me. if you could come."

he giggles, a little crazed. he hooks his arms around his knees, hugging them to his chest.. "so what? so what? you gonna fuck me 'till I behave?"

"yes," you reach down, "I think I will." and you pull out the butt plug he (probably forgot he) had in all day.

"fuck—" he sobs. you watch his dick bob. precome drips into a pool on his stomach. "—green—green—so fucking green."

you're still sensitive from coming twice—you're pretty sure he is too. you lean down to give him a kiss, you moan into each other's mouths. he tastes like strawberries and his and your come. it is a little gross, you admit. but he's so tight and so fucking cute that you can't bring yourself to care. you part, and there's a line of salvia connecting the two of you.

"wait—" you say, but it comes out like a growl. "roll over."

he gets on his hands and knees, reaching back and spreading himself open for you. fuck.

you fuck him like that, holding the leash tight, loving the way he arches his back into the bed. the bell on his collar jingles incessantly.

you spank him, one last time.

"th-that's twenty-f-five—oh, fuck, sir," he growls, clinging on to the blankets for dear life.

you pin one of his hands in place and reach down to touch him. he starts laughing again.

"mmmmmmay I please come, sir? I—fuck—I'm so close, soclosesoclose," his breath stutters, you can hear the breaks in his voice. he buries his face in the blankets.

I'm close, you think, but the words don't make it out. "you're so good—you're so fucking good—come for me—fuck, come for me."

—

you're a mess. there's some drying solution of come and lube on your stomach. not to mention whatever the fuck's going on with your hair. your robe is discarded haphazardly on the floor. you think you've got a hickey, but you can't remember where.

actually, you're both a mess. he's also covered in come, sweat, and lube. he's got a red ring around his neck where you pulled him by the leash a little too hard. he's just covered in bruises. he clings to your arm, still fast asleep. you both passed out pretty quickly after…whatever that was, but you got back up a couple hours later. it doesn't look like he did, though.

actually, your whole bedroom is a mess. a blanket or two ended up discarded on the floor. there's an empty bottle of edible lube somewhere around here. your kitty lingerie set, still dirty, somehow ended up hanging in the closet. the first time you woke up you were both cuddling with a butt plug that you misplaced in the heat of the moment.

you don't think you've ever seen him like that. you can't even put it into words. you've never spanked him. he's never called you sir. you've never come in his mouth. he's never…begged for you like that before. you've never been so exhausted after coming that you both just, just fainted.

you feel lightheaded, and dead tired. you know you both must have gotten back up and gone at it at least a couple more times, but it's blurry, you can't remember. all you know is your vibrator's missing, and you feel…unusually empty, like you do the morning-after getting railed a little too hard.

last night…what the fuck happened last night?

you contemplate getting up, slipping your arm out of his embrace, pulling the covers back up around him, leaving to make breakfast. you're kind of disgusting, several hours after sex without cleaning up properly. you want to get yourselves some washcloths, maybe take shower together, or run him a bath. you know he's gotta be way more sore than you are.

you catch yourself staring, lost in thought; he just looks too cute when he's very clearly roughed up, but still sleeping soundly. and with the way he wanted…the way he needed you yesterday, you don't think he would want to wake up alone.

maybe it's okay if we sleep in a little longer.

you stroke his hair and whisper, "happy birthday, baby boy."

—

edited 14 March 2021

[hollynovaextra]

=Baking AU information part 1: Content warnings and explanations=

Ello! It’s me, NOVA! Before we get into the actual AU, I wanna explain how we even got to this point and some further elaboration on those handy content warnings. Be sure to read everything you need to in order to decide if this is a blog you feel is safe and comfortable to interact with! If you need to block this side blog and only interact with my main then I totally understand. YOUR MENTAL HEALTH COMES FIRST!!! Feel free to DM me on either here or my main with any questions (AU related questions are preferred on this blog over my main)

Character asks are welcome at any point in this blog’s active lifespan

If you need to block this AU tag, the official tag is “Invader Zim Baking AU”

=Orgins and explanations=

So the AU in general started as a Yandere sim shitpost with my IRL friend Zippo/Zip (they/them). We were just kind of joking around and I had mentioned how “If Zim ever actually fell for someone, he would totally be a Yandere” and we just joked around for a bit, nothing really came of it. The joke was that Yandere sim would be so much more interesting if you played as Zim instead, cue more private teenage shitposting. Fast forward to this past winter and I had a really bad mental health episode. I was watching videos on MLP creepypastas and my mentally ill brain though “haha, AU time” and lets just say Yandere!Zim got really good a baking really fast. I hyperfixated on that for a tiny bit but then kind of dropped it because I wasn’t sure if it was even worth working on since Yandere stuff can get really ew. So! I dropped it. Skip ahead to this January and I’ve been rping with my online friend Alex (she/they). We ran out of AU ideas so I made a VERY goofy list of starters and one of them was just “canibalism cupcakes”. We did another prompt for a bit but the brain rot came back and I eventually typed out an entire au explanation in one car trip after coming home from working at church all morning and Alex thought it was very pogchamp. So here we are. With a sideblog and complex characters and a storyline that while pretty fucked up, is a really interesting character exploration and case study for codependent relationships.

=Addressing the “ZaDr” question”=

The short awnser is yes, this is a ZaDr heavy au and it’s probably the only ZaDr thing I will ever post ever.

The long awnser is that my relationship with ZaDr as a ship is...messy. I can’t stand it in canon. The age ambiguities and constant retcons just make it a headache to deal with and it’s honestly a very unhealthy ship. I totally understand why people like it but for me personally, it just ain’t it chief. AU’s and fannon are where it gets interesting: A lot of people give Zim and Dib way more character development and actually make ZaDr something that could work (and getting rid of the weird age ambiguities for Zim). Royalty AU and Paklet AU come to mind as two of the biggest examples.

Zim and Dib in this AU are NOT couple goals, not in the slightest. They’re two very codependent and unhealthy people who rely on each other way too much. This is not a love story and it’s not a fairytail. It’s messy. And I think it’s more interesting that way.

They are fundamentally different from canon in plenty of ways so it’s better if you look at these versions of the cast as separate people from canon, with different problems and issues...also older lol. Despite the aging up of the cast, there will be NO NSFW CONTENT

This AU will not shy away from that fact and while Zim and Dib definitely will have their soft moments, they are by no means something you should aspire to have. I want to make it abundantly clear before I post anything that the goal is not to romanticize their relationship. A good portion of it will be from the POV of these two and they are definitely going to be biased POV’s but there will be parts where I rip the camera away from them and you’re gonna see that this definitely isn’t as fluffy as they make it seem. Think of this less as a romance and more as a writing experiment and character case study.

At the end of the day, Alex and I are two minors who aren’t experts on anything. If there is something you think is concerning or could become a problem in terms of content later on, please send me a DM on this sideblog. While the AU is for fun, I don’t want this to become something that harms people. I give you full permission to ask questions about anything that seems concerning and give feedback. I get pretty bad tunnel vision so I may miss something that might become a problem later down the line

=a more detailed content warning list=

[This will be regularly updated]

• ZaDr (non-NSFW, no age ambiguities)

• Canibalism/killing people and making them into baked goods and food in general (About the level of graphic detail you would probably find in “Cupcakes”)

• Discussions and themes of depression, anxiety disorders, mentions of past attempted suicide, sensory overload, and intrusive thoughts (It’s mostly written from either personal experience or a lot of research. This stuff is definitely not going to be taken lightly when it’s mentioned either, we don’t do that romanticism shit around here)

• Depictions of blood and gore (either pink or red blood, haven’t decided yet) • Food poisoning

[cant-think-of-anything]

Pirate AU (Part Five)

Lucie watched Alastair gently clean his sisters wounds before bandaging them up.

Knowing how much they cared for each other, she had expected Alastair to be angry. And though he was ready to quite literally murder Tatiana, he didn’t seem mad at her. Lucie couldn’t say the same for herself. 

Cordelia had gotten hurt. She could’ve been killed if she wasn’t protecting Lucie. Dragging her out of her spiraling guilt, Thomas pressed a cup of tea into her hands, warming her cold fingers. He was also watching Alastair. 

“You could not have done anything to prevent this Lucie.” 

Lucie stilled. Thomas had arrived with Alastair who ended up sending a message to Eugenia. The three of them had helped Lucie clean up the glass and left Alastair to address Cordelia’s shoulder since he was the only one who knew any form of medical training. When Lucie had questioned him, he responded he knew how to do many things, like baking and tattooing. She had decided not to ask if he was being sarcastic. 

Thomas and Eugenia seemed fueled with purpose. Upon telling them Tatiana Blackthorn, the same woman responsible for the public marriage scandal between James and her daughter a few years back, was the one who had killed Barbra, they seemed more focused on vengeance than anything.

Eugenia snapped her fingers loudly. “Oi! Lucie, Thomas get over here.”

Alastair and her cousin had spread out a map of London they had acquired from the library. Combining the information that had come from Alastair and Lucie, they had placed that Tatiana was indeed another pirate, and apparently belonged or led one of the scariest crews to exist. Which was really just delightful for them.

After locating the ship’s docking point, Alastair had gone earlier, confirming that the ship was there and, judging by the symbol carved into its wood, the correct ship. 

“We need to get in somehow,” He said quietly while studying the maps.

Suddenly, Thomas looked up. “Christopher.”

“Who?” Alastair asked, staring as if Thomas had lost his mind. 

“My cousin, he makes things, if we need to break into a ship he’s quite good at making destructive things.”

And that, seemingly, was all it took. As her friends packed their items, discussing quietly, she watched Cordelia, still asleep, breathe softly in the firelight.

“I don’t want to leave her,” Alastair said, startling her. “But I trust you’ll take good care of her.” 

Lucie turned her face away. “For what happened… I’m sorry.”

Alastair looked up, surprised. "You needn’t apologize for that. My sister makes her own decisions, however ill-advised they may be sometimes. She won’t blame you and nor do I.”

Before Lucie could respond Eugenia rapped her knuckles on the door to grab their attention. She watched as they left, leaving her alone with an unconscious Cordelia. Mostly alone she thought, looking at her very tall friend who was staring at the fire. She sat next to him, crossing her legs on the couch and letting her head fall against his shoulder.

“Pirates,” He whispered, shaking his head lightly.

“Indeed,” Lucie responded before adding “Thomas, darling, have you seen what they wear?” 

Thomas laughed and bade her goodbye, following Alastair and Eugenia. 

~~~

Eugenia thought she had met her fair share of quiet people, but being in a carriage with Alastair was like being in a carriage with a well dressed mannequin. Thomas had mentioned needing to drop by one of his other friend’s houses and promptly abandoned Eugenia. 

“You found my brother.” She said, cutting into the silence.

“I did,” Alastair replied, still staring out the window.

How was it even possible for a person to talk this little? Eugenia made a frustrated noise and waved her hand in front of his face, smiling at his scowl.

“I’m trying to thank you,”

“I found your brother entirely by accident. I don’t think that’s praise-worthy.”

“Well you saved him by the sounds of it.”

“He told you?” Alastair sounded surprised. “Well I suppose I did it out of instinct. And a bit of thought went into how you would feel.”

Eugenia smirked, pretending to swoon. “He cares!”

Alastair swatted her arm before reaching into his coat. When his hand withdrew, there was a silver longsword in his grasp, the hilt littered with rubies. She sucked in a breath and reached her hand out to touch the engraved handle. She felt a jolt of surprise when Alastair gave it to her.

“All our weapons are gold anyway. It wouldn’t match. Try not to get yourself killed.” He went back to staring out the window, but Eugenia found she didn’t mind. 

~~~

Thomas ducked into Christopher’s lab, cursing London’s tiny doors to find his sister and Alastair already seated there. 

Christopher’s head was bent over his notebook, his hair nearly catching flame on an open fire before Alastair threw a damp towel at his head. 

“Thomas!” Christopher greeted, his face lighting up. 

“We need your help,” Alastair said. He seemed to hate any form of pleasantries. 

“With?”

“We need to get into a… very thick wooden box,” Eugenia cut in.

Christopher’s face clouded, and Thomas could practically see his mind working. Christopher was the smartest scientist in London and that Thomas could say with entire surety. He didn’t like keeping things from him, they had been inseparable for so long but this was not his secret to tell. 

He listened as Christopher told them what all he needed to create such a substance and Eugenia rose, offering readily to go to the market. Thomas thought he saw a flash of silver in her coat but she was gone before he could ask. His cousin’s face was in a deep revere of thought it seemed so Thomas left the room, Alastair close behind. 

~~~

Eugenia wished the cobblestones on the ground of this godforsaken market would swallow her up whole. She quite liked the boisterous activity and the loud arguing. What she did not feel so fond of was crouching in the alleyway like a lowlife trying to avoid her own family. Matthew Fairchild and Anna Lightwood were known to frequent illegal places and as much as Eugenia loved them, she wished she could snap her fingers and make them disappear. If they found her here they would certainly tell the rest of their friends, and Eugenia couldn’t risk putting Lucie and Thomas under scrutiny now. 

“Hello?” 

Eugenia cursed vehemently before turning around to face whatever person called out to her. 

And oh, Eugenia was going to positively faint. Someone would have to drag her out of the market and send her body home. There was a woman standing in the alleyway, a hat shaded half of her face but Eugenia knew it was just as lovely as the rest of her. The mystery woman brushed long black hair out of her dark brown eyes to study Eugenia. 

“Are you all right?” The woman asked with her perfectly shaped lips moving to help her up. 

No. “Yes! Of course.” 

She looked amused. “Is there a reason you're crouched in a dirty alleyway then?”

“A perfectly normal, justifiable reason yes.” When the woman waited for her to elaborate she added “I can’t let my family see me here.” 

“Ah,” She responded before sticking out her hand. “I’m Kamala.” 

“Eugenia.” 

“I came in through a back exit, I can take you through there.” Kamala hesitated then, and Eugenia realized that their hands were still interlocked. “If you would like that.” 

Well she couldn’t have said no to that.

~~~

Alastair, it seemed, liked to perch on dangerous places such as the third floor balcony. Thomas was caught between the urge to join him to see the appeal or pull him off so he wouldn’t get hurt. 

Thomas watched as he tipped his head back, his perfect dark hair rustling softly in the wind. Moving closer hesitantly, he placed his forearms on the railing, seeing Alastair’s eyes open from the corner of his vision. 

“Are you okay?” The words slipped out on their own accord.

Thomas turned, facing the shorter boy fully. Alastair’s entire being seemed stressed and worried and while Thomas understood why, an irrational part of him wanted to see if he could fix that. 

“We might die.” 

“Not a pleasant thought.” 

“I don’t care much what happens to me, but Cordelia and my mother can’t survive on their own.”

“Why? Cordelia seems capable enough.” 

Alastair shook his head, turning his eyes away as if he’d said too much. 

“Where have you sailed?” Thomas questioned, leaning back onto piller, sensing the signal for a subject change. He also couldn’t quite wrap his head around the “pirate” thing. 

“Many places. All of them were better than this repulsive town.

That startled a laugh out of Thomas. “I can understand that. I wish I could leave this city too sometimes.”

Alastair leaned closer and cocked his head to the side “Where would you go?”

Thomas flushed and leaned back. “Anywhere I suppose.”

Alastair looked as he was going to respond but the door banged open. Thomas jerked away, just realizing how close the two of them had been to look at Christopher. 

“Eugenia’s back.” He called, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked back and forth between them. 

~~~

Cordelia felt as if someone had an iron arm clamped to her shoulder and was shaking her brain vigorously. She opened her eyes and groaned at the stabbing light. 

“Cordelia?”

Lucie, she tried to say but found that she could not. She felt an actual hand wrap around hers and soft fingers brush hair from her forehead. 

“It’s okay, don’t say anything.”

Slowly, Lucie’s outline cleared and she could see her lovely blue eyes hovering a few inches from her face. Suddenly it was hard to breathe for entirely different reasons. 

Lucie gently laid her hands on Cordelia’s arms, careful not to disturb her wounds. Cordelia found herself suddenly overwhelmed with how close her fire-lit skin was, the hesitant brush of an escaped curl against her neck. She never wanted to pull away. 

“I know you just got hurt on your shoulders,” she started hoarsely, “but I thought…” 

Cordelia, finally able to find her voice said “Never blame yourself Lucie. If it were to protect you I would do it a thousand times over.”

She heard Lucie’s breathing stop before she pulled away slightly, much to Cordelia’s disappointment. 

“They found the ship. We’ll find her too.” Lucie’s eyes blazed bright. “I want you to teach me, show me how you wield your weapons, set your ships on water. She took far too much already and I refuse to let her take more.” 

~~~

You know that one tik tok audio that’s like- “Everyone is just who they are and who they are is just stone cold gay?” Yeah that’s this fic

ALSO someone help me out who’s taller in Joshwood?

Tagging: @adoravel-fenomeno and @barbra-lightwood (Also I didn’t say this before but I can add you if you want)