#this is from a week or two ago but whatever

[ishasturnz]

‘ Awkward Apologies ‘

dividers by:@ianrkives

authors note: i’m really hoping my smut writing is good because i genuinely don’t know how smut writers do it..

Summary: A few weeks ago when you and Chris thought you were gonna be home alone after matt left with nick, Unannounced Nick came back home early and walked in on you and Chris…

Contains: porn without plot, getting caught, ROUGHHH sex, nick being dramatic.

word count: 722

character count: 3271

4:57 PM

“Nick and I are heading out to grab some Cane's; we'll be back soon,” Matt announced, his voice full of annoyance as he jingled his keys and checked that his wallet was tucked securely in his pocket. Nick, a few steps behind, Just stood with a stupid smile on his face after bugging Matt about getting canes.

“Alrighty, it’s not like we’re even going anywhere so the door should be unlocked by the time you guys get here.” My was tone neutral since me and Chris were watching a movie on the TV.

5:25 PM

The bed creaked loudly under the weight of both our bodies

Chris pounds into you mercilessly as you moan louder. “couldn’t- fuck… FUCK y/n- couldn’t wait until they left..” Chris groaned and railed into you harder from behind.

He pushes your back down so it arches more somehow making him go deeper than before and making his cock hit magic spots you didn’t even know existed.

“Fuh- fuck!” You moaned, no screamed out in pure bliss. You swore sometimes you could feel his cock pick at your heart sometimes.

His Hand grips onto the headboard of his bed which was unbelievably hitting the wall hard. Most likely leaving a dent in it.

Almost hard enough to probably break the bed in general.

Our noises somehow grew louder and louder each and every second. The sheets practically were covered in sweat, drool, tears, and other substances.

The one thing we should’ve heard, we missed.

Nick opening the entrance door.

He most likely had already gotten an earful of unholy noises coming from Chris’s room starting from when he opened the door and passed his room.

6:01 PM

Nick started to approach Chris’s room, not even thinking about the unholy scene he was about to witness.

The doorknob twisted and opened to a very traumatized-looking Nick— “What the FUCK!”

Me and Chris quickly pulled our bodies apart from where they met and scrambled up the blankets to cover our nude bodies up.

“Nick why the fuck are you back so early?!” Chris yelled while covering himself up from being exposed to his brother.

“The real question is, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU GUYS FUCKING?!” Nick screaming out of pure disgust and disdain.

“I thought you guys weren’t coming back until later on?!” I screamed, holding up the blanket over my bare breasts and lower body.

“You guys are legitimately fucking SICKENING.” Nick sternly spoke before slamming Chris’s door for us to do whatever we had to do after.

A day after

My thoughts continued to spiral around the fact Nick caught me and Chris in the most intimate way possible.

Every time we saw each other we couldn’t even look into each other’s eyes.

After begging Chris to take me to ShopRite to buy cake mix and frosting he finally agreed to do so.

“You realize he probably forgot already right?” Chris drove keeping one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh gently squeezing.

“That doesn’t matter Chris, that’s like saying I’d forget when you thought it’d be a good idea to put paper towels in the oven.” My voice still a bit worn out from the acts that happened a day prior. “Those two things literally don’t correlate at all.”

“—Thats not the point..!” I didn’t yell loud enough to be considered screaming just loud enough to be considered as whiny.

Back at the house, 2:37 PM

Chris helped me bake the cake while Nick was still out at a meeting, Matt was asleep probably not going to wake up until 3:00.

We frosted it and put writing on it so the apology wasn’t as verbal since it’d be a bit awkward saying it out loud.

4:06 PM

Nick was finally back in the house, I waited till I heard him go upstairs and close his door before running to the kitchen and opening the fridge.

I left the casing on so nothing spilt and I went straight up to Nick’s room. I quietly knocked waiting for him to open the door.

The opened and I handed him the cake with a fork, “M’sorry nick..” my apology sounded sincere and heartfelt.

“Yeah yeah I forgive you—“ He hugged you to show that he actually forgave you before pausing and saying something else.

“But next time I even HEAR the smallest bit of you guys fucking i’m gonna kill myself.”

“Nicolas!”

taglist: @tezzzzzzzz @tenaciousearthquakeperson @angvl3tears @sturnshood @sturnberries @sturniologirlzz @muwapsturniolo @dykes4chris @chrepsi @chrisisadilf @chrissturniolossidebitch @baileysturnz @slut4christopherr @slxt4chriss @slvtf0rchr1s @slxtarchive @raesturns @hjvi @starkeyszn @audreyscave @lailasnight @sturns-mermaid @ikyoudreamofme @sturnsmadl @ohmanareyoucereal9 @sosasturns @blushsturns @rcklessheavn @55sturn @phone4pills @cupiidk1lls @bsturnzmtts @wh0remikasas @sfoiasturn @trevorsgodmother

MASTERLIST

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 4

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy, seizures and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

"I still can’t believe that you aren’t freaking out!?"

Lizzie didn't even bother to open her eyes at that question.

She was laying sprawled out on the massive garden swing her father had built nearly two decades ago, with Mara curled up on her stomach like a massive judgemental heating pad. It helped some against the muscle aches that her latest seizure had left her with, and not really at all with the the feeling of tiredness and like she had been hit by a bus. 

Which was the reason why she was laying around on the garden swing and not actually help her father and Tasha’s mother with their…weekly gardening. 

Tasha poked her and Lizzie just sighed. 

 Tasha was completely and utterly unapologetic about interrogating her and Lizzie wasn't in the mood to actually answer her best friend slash pseudo sister slash whatever the heck you called the daughter of your godmother when your father was also her godfather.

Their little family it was, even when it wasn't the most normal one. Lizzie's father and Aunt Lou had grown up down the street together...had gone to school together, later on to university...and had been best friends all throughout that. They had each gone on to get married, and had Lizzie and Natasha weeks apart. Tasha's father had been died when she had been 2...and Lizzie's parents marriage had spectacularly imploded by the time she was 6 and after that...well. It had always been just the four of them.

"Because I'm not freaking out," Lizzie finally said with a deep sigh. She was trying to take another nap, but Tasha's incessant questions weren't exactly helping.

"You should be freaking out," Tasha said, completely disregarding Lizzie's need for peace. "Lando Norris, formula one driver, is reading your book!“

"And he's probably just reading it as a curiosity," Lizzie said, trying to rationalize things. She didn’t think that lando was actually going to finish the book. Romantasy was not the kind of things that a guy like Lando Norris would read for fun…and maybe that would make their eventual break up easier.

Even when there was a part of Lizzie that was melting about the fact that he had wanted to get Mara a gift for her birthday.

Still.

She drew her fingernails through Mara’s short chocolate brown fur. 

Tasha, however, wasn't having any of it. She gave Lizzie an unimpressed look. "Did you miss the part where Oscar Piastri is also reading it, because his girlfriend loves your series?"

Lizzie opened her mouth to respond but Tasha wasn't done yet. "We are talking about two formula 1 racers, who probably have tons of friends and maybe even more formula 1 drivers who are reading you book! They might even recommend it to the rest of the grid! And you don’t care! Who are you and what have you done to my Lizzie?!"

Lizzie couldn’t help but laugh at that, opening her eyes to look at Tasha energetically gesturing, blonde hair flying around as she twisted to look at Lizzie. 

"Maybe I am freaking out a little bit," Lizzie admitted drily. “I just don’t have the energy to get all animated right now.”

Tasha harrumphed. “This is like the most interesting your life has been in years!“ Tasha said brightly. “First cafe guy, now F1 drivers that read your books! How is cafe guy by the way?”

"Fine," Lizzie said vaguely.

Tasha noticed and raised an eyebrow. "Just fine?" Lizzie could see the beginnings of a smirk in Tasha's eyes, and she already knew where this was going.

“He’s traveling for work,” she answered truthfully. It wasn’t a lie…and she wasn’t ready yet to admit to exactly who she was dating. She was pretty sure that Tasha was going to have a heart attack if Lizzie came around the corner with “Oh, you know the guy I am seeing? It’s Lando Norris.”.

“He saw me posting for Mara’s birthday and is now insisting that he’ll get her a gift,” Lizzie said softly. 

Tasha's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, seriously? He's buying a gift for your dog’s birthday? That’s the cutest fucking thing I have ever heard."

Lizzie nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, can you believe it? It's kind of sweet, actually."

"It's definitely sweet. So sweet that I am gonna throw up," Tasha agreed, a knowing glint in her eye. "And it definitely doesn't sound like just a fling to me."

Lizzie pressed her lips together at that.

“Uh oh,” Tasha said drily. “What’s going on in that head of yours Lizzie Lou?”

Lizzie sighed. “It’s not like it matters.”

“Why wouldn’t it matter?”

Lizzie hesitated again, scratching Mara’s ears as a distraction. “It’s just… my mum left when she couldn’t handle my epilepsy. If she couldn’t stick around, how can I expect anyone else to?”

Tasha’s whole face scrunched up in immediate protest. “First of all, fuck her. Second of all, that’s not on you.”

Lizzie shrugged. “Maybe it’s not fair to put that on someone else, though. What if I love someone, and then they realize it’s too much?”

Tasha poked her in the forehead. “Then they don’t deserve you.”

Lizzie let out a humorless laugh. “You say that like it’s that simple.”

“It is that simple.” Tasha flopped onto the swing beside her, throwing her legs over Lizzie’s lap. “Look, I stick around. Mara sticks around. Your dad sticks around. My mum sticks around. We don’t do that because it’s easy. We do it because we love you.”

Lizzie slumped against the swing cushions. "I know, I know. You all love me. But that's different."

Tasha rolled her eyes, reaching down to whack Lizzie on the head. "Don't be an idiot. It's not different. Not one bit. We love you, and that's why we stick around."

"But it's just you guys," Lizzie argued, her voice muffled against the pillow, she buried her head into."Family is different. This is like, romantically sticking around."

Tasha scoffed. "Oh, so family love is stronger than romantic love? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Lizzie lifted her head to give Tasha a look. “No, you idiot. It’s just...it’s different, alright? Family is supposed to stick around. It’s like...a given. Romantic love...is supposed to be fun, and easy, and not have all these...issues.”

Tasha rolled her eyes. "Oh, right. Because the perfect relationship is one where nothing ever goes wrong and everything is sunshine and roses. That sounds like a load of horseshit to me.”

Lizzie groaned, burying her face into the pillow again. "You know what I mean. Obviously, relationships aren't always going to be easy. But...epilepsy isn't just a minor issue. It's a pretty big deal. A lot to handle."

Tasha ran her fingers through Lizzie’s hair, her touch surprisingly soothing. “Look, I’m not going to pretend like epilepsy doesn’t complicate things. Of course it does. But you’re acting like you’re some kind of burden, like you’re less deserving of love than anyone else. That’s bullshit, Lizzie. And you know it.”

“It’s just a shitty deal for anybody to take,” Lizzie mumbled. “He could have any other girl, any other girl that doesn’t get seizures, that doesn’t need a service dog.”

Tasha smacked her upside the head again, harder this time. “Shut up. God, you’re so bloody stupid sometimes.”

Lizzie winced, rubbing the spot where Tasha had hit her. "Ouch, that hurt."

Tasha snorted. "Good. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into you."

Lizzie huffed, shoving Tasha’s legs off of her lap in retaliation. “I’m just being realistic here.”

“No, you’re being pessimistic,” Tasha retorted. “You’re basically assuming that this guy is going to run away as soon as things get difficult.”

“Well, what if he does?” Lizzie asked, her voice small. “What if he realizes that I’m not worth it?”

Tasha rolled her eyes. “Then he’s a total idiot, and he doesn’t deserve you anyway. And there is a million other good guys out there who would happily take his place.”

“I don’t want a million other guys,” Lizzie grumbled, feeling like a petulant child. “I want that one, I think.”

Tasha gave her a sympathetic look. “I know you do. But you’re sabotaging yourself before you’ve even given him a chance. Give him credit, yeah? Maybe he’s not as shallow as you think.”

Lizzie sighed, knowing that Tasha was right, but still feeling scared. "But what if he doesn't get it? What if he can't handle it when I have a seizure?"

Tasha shrugged. "That's a risk you take with any relationship, epilepsy or not. But you won't know until you give it a chance."

Lizzie opened her mouth to protest but Tasha cut her off. "Shut up. Don't give me any more of your stupid reasons. You just need to let it happen, alright?"

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but deep down she knew Tasha was right. "Alright, fine. I’ll try. But if it all goes to crap, I’m blaming you."

Tasha grinned. "Oh, I’ll gladly take the blame if that’s how it goes. But I think it’ll be fine. This guy already sounds way nicer than any of the guys you’ve dated in the past."

Aunt Lou’s laughter rang through the garden and Lizzie turned to watch her father and aunt laugh about something or other. They looked younger like that. Carefree. Unburdened.

“You think they’ll ever figure it out?” She asked Tasha with a sigh.

“Nah. They’ll be living in denial in 40 years when we visit them in their old people’s home,” Tasha said drily. “You know. Still having biweekly scrabble nights and making each other playlists filled with love songs…and sharing a vegetable garden.” 

“Girls! What are we thinking for dinner?!” Her father called loudly as he helped aunt lou to her feet.

Tasha shot Lizzie a small grin, her eyes glittering with amusement. "Think we can con them into ordering takeaway?"

Lizzie snickered, the tension in her shoulders relaxing at the familiar banter. “Worth a try. You do the talking.”

“Always do,” Tasha said with a mock salute. She hopped off the swing, grabbing Lizzie’s hand and tugging her up as well. “Come on. Let’s go get some pepperoni pizza.”

[chogiwow]

hold me, heal me | jake sim

pairing: jake x gn!reader (ft. jay's cameo)

wc: 9.1k+

genre: angst; sickfic; hurt-comfort

au: exes to lovers

warnings: both mc and jake are emotionally constipated for most part of the fic, jake is sick, mentions of food, yn is a sort of brusque caretaker, mentions of nudity, kissing and making out but jake is still sick ew but that’s on being in love ig, jake also contemplates murder (it's just my attempt at humor), not proofread 

a/n: i’m sick atm so yayyy :d anyway, busted this out in one sitting idek what happened

one.

jake contemplates ignoring the doorbell, the very sound of it making him snort out in mild annoyance. the weighted blanket around his frame feels warm, his feet peeking out against the soft kiss of the spring breeze.

he smells kind of mouldy, like a day-old dusty bookshelf, his fingers sport a fine sheen of oil when he rubs it across his face and his lips feel too dry. the bell rings again – he contemplates a silent murder this time.

against his will, he finds himself dragging his body out from under the comfort of his toasty blanket, sniffling and letting out a violent sneeze and somehow that hurts his throat. still, he persists, stumbling across the cool tile floors of his tiny apartment, heaving his body in his feverish state and unlocking the door with a heavy sigh.

the frown on his face drops too quickly – and again, it is against his will. not that he’s complaining this time around, because it’s you. you’re standing there; even after he blinks his eyes and squints at your face, you’re still standing there. it’s you. and he had just contemplated your murder not even minutes ago – he suddenly wants to apologise.

jake doesn’t know what to say. his throat is scratchy, thick with the remnants of sleep and sickness, but even if it weren’t, he’s pretty sure words would still fail him.

because you’re here, and he doesn’t know why.

his feverish brain scrambles for an explanation – maybe you forgot something here (impossible, you never leave things behind), or maybe you’re lost (equally impossible, you know your way around his place better than he does), or maybe you’[re here to finally cut him out of your life forever (uh, probably possible).

jake swallows. his throat protests, burning raw.

“you look disgusting,” you say, finally breaking the silence.

wow, you’ve really outdone yourself. maybe you’re taking the ‘just friends’ part a bit too literally, but even so, you won’t say that to any friend of yours. but this is jake, your ex – your ex you met again after a year not even two months ago, your ex who you had a long deep talk not even two weeks ago, your ex who, in said talk, spilled his guts out for you (literally and figuratively) over a late night drink, your ex who reluctantly promised to stay friends with because he would do whatever you told him.

jake exhales a short laugh, the sound raspy and strained. “glad to know i’m still leaving an impression.”

you roll your eyes, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. there’s something tight in your chest, something uneasy about the way he looks – pale, sweat-damp, like he’s been marinating in sickness for hours without bothering to take care of himself. which, knowing him, is probably exactly the case.

“you haven’t eaten, have you?”

jake, stubborn as ever, lifts his chin. “i had a banana.”

you glance past him, into the dim apartment, where his couch is buried under a heap of blankets, and his coffee table is cluttered with an empty cup and what looks like an unopened packet of instant ramen.

“right,” you deadpan, stepping forward without waiting for an invitation. he moves aside automatically, like he’s too feverish to even pretend to stop you.

the air inside is warm, a little stale. you wrinkle your nose, setting the plastic bag down on his kitchen counter before turning back to him.

“you look worse than i thought.”

“you mentioned that already,” he mutters, rubbing his temple. “why are you even here?”

that question. you expected it, but it still sits heavy in your stomach.

“i was in the neighborhood.”

jake gives you a flat look. “you don’t live anywhere near here.”

you press your lips together. fine. he’s not going to let you get away with that one.

“i heard you were sick.”

this is a truth. honestly, it was your precious weekend after a long week of gruelling workload, you were planning on staying in and commit fully to the homebody tag you proudly wore like an honor, but ever since getting an urgent call from jay – who was the usual caretaker in your friend group – informing you in a voice filled with worry that he was out of town and somehow jake had ended up sick and how he couldn’t be there and how jake wouldn’t let anyone take care of him anyway, you had ended up pacifying your friend that you would drop by at his place.

jake lets out a slow breath, leaning against the doorframe. the way he looks at you makes your throat tighten – like he’s trying to decipher something, trying to read between the lines of what you’re really saying.

he won’t push, though. he never does.

instead, he just nods, running a hand over his face. “well. that explains a lot.”

you arch a brow. “like what?”

“like why i thought i was hallucinating when i saw you at my door.”

your lips twitch, but you bite back the urge to smile. “maybe you are.”

jake hums, as if seriously considering that possibility. his feverish eyes flicker over you, lingering like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks too long. you can’t blame him. this – being here, stepping into his space again – is uncharted territory, and neither of you know what to do with it.

you clear your throat, turning away before the weight of his gaze unsettles you too much. “sit down,” you say, already moving toward his tiny kitchen.

jake doesn’t argue. he trudges back to his couch, collapsing onto it with a groan. he watches you from beneath his blankets, eyes hooded with exhaustion.

“you don’t have to do this,” he says after a moment. his voice is quieter now, almost careful.

you pause, rummaging through the bag you brought. “i know.”

it’s the truth. you don’t have to be here. you didn’t have to spend your saturday trekking across the city, picking up soup from that overpriced place he likes, remembering that he doesn’t like ginger in it, showing up at his door despite every logical reason not to.

but here you are.

you hear him sigh, long and tired. maybe he understands that arguing is pointless. maybe he’s just too sick to fight you on it. either way, he doesn’t protest when you kneel in front of the coffee table and open the container of soup, letting the steam curl into the air.

“eat,” you tell him, pushing the spoon toward him.

he looks at it, then at you. “you’re kind of bossy.”

“you’re kind of impossible.”

jake chuckles, though it quickly turns into a cough. he takes the spoon from you, fingers brushing against yours for the briefest second. it doesn’t mean anything. it doesn’t.

you tell yourself that as you watch him take the first sip, his shoulders sagging as the warmth settles in his chest.

“better?” you ask, voice softer than you mean for it to be.

jake doesn’t answer right away. he just looks at you, something unreadable in his fever-glazed eyes. then he smiles, small and a little lopsided.

“yeah,” he murmurs. “better.”

jake eats slowly, his movements sluggish from the fever. you sit across from him, arms crossed, watching the way he cradles the bowl in his hands like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered. it’s strange – being here again, in his space, close enough to remember how he used to lean against your shoulder whenever he was sick, how he always got clingy when he had a fever, how he used to–

you stop the thought before it can go any further.

“you’re staring,” jake mutters, glancing at you over the rim of his bowl.

“i’m making sure i keep up my end of the promise i made to jay. seriously, you can't still be this childish, refusing to even go to a hospital. what do you expect, that you’ll just get better if you rot in a bed for a few days without anyone to look after you–”

your words are harsh, you can feel them scratch your throat with their thorns, but they come out of a place of genuine concern and mild bewilderment at jake’s stubbornness. so you hope that at least a few of those thorns get stuck in your throat, for his sake at least.

“what about you?”

you blink at the interruption, lips parted midway forming your sentence. jake notices, shoving a mouthful of soup that burns his tongue before explaining.

“when you were in japan, you lived alone too. what did you do when you got sick…or, was there someone to take care of you?”

it's easy to pass off the quietness with which the question comes out to his raspy throat, but it does  nothing to soften the sudden drop in your stomach that resounds like a gong in your ears.

“how did you know i lived alone?”

i asked jay.

“jay told me.”

jake blows on his next spoonful of soup, waiting patiently for you to answer. did you have someone to take care of you?

you hesitate for a moment, caught between the truth and something easier.

“no,” you finally say. “i took care of myself.”

jake hums, like that answer is enough. like it doesn't leave a hole in the conversation. you expect him to drop it, but then—

“that must’ve been hard.”

you exhale through your nose. “it was fine.”

“liar,” he says, not unkindly. he sets the bowl down with a quiet clink, watching you with that same unreadable expression. fevered, but sharp. "you always hated being sick. said it made you feel helpless."

the words come from somewhere too familiar, a piece of history you thought had been buried. because he’s right. you did say that – once, a long time ago, wrapped up in his sheets with a fever of your own, curled up against the warmth of his body as he pressed a damp towel to your forehead. you hated it, the vulnerability of it all, the way it made you feel like you couldn’t move forward. jake had laughed back then, brushing the hair out of your face, promising you’d get through it together.

but there was no together anymore.

"excuse me?" your voice is sharp, defensive before you can stop it. but jake doesn’t flinch, doesn’t backtrack. he just keeps looking at you, feverish but steady, like he’s seeing through every wall you’ve built.

“you hate being alone,” he says simply. “you always have.”

your fingers curl against your palm, nails pressing into your skin. the room feels too warm now, the scent of soup thick in the air, pressing against your ribs. you don't know if it's his fever or yours, but suddenly, it feels like you can't breathe.

“i got used to it,” you say, and it’s meant to sound indifferent, like a shrug. but it doesn’t. it sounds tired.

jake watches you carefully, then sets the bowl down on the table with a quiet clink. his fingers trace the rim absentmindedly. “doesn’t mean it stopped hurting.”

you push yourself up, dusting imaginary lint off your jeans. "i’ll get you some water."

jake doesn’t stop you, but you can feel his gaze following you as you move around his tiny kitchen, familiar in ways you wish it wasn’t. your hands know exactly where to reach, where the glasses are, how the faucet squeaks if you turn it too fast. it’s ridiculous.

and he wonders what you might have gone through yourself. here, he had the safety of his friends, a reliable, if not burdensome indulgence for him. one call, and he was sure one friend or another would drop by if he was sick.

you however, had been all alone in a new country. new job, new people, new place, an unfamiliar language and no friends to call upon. did you let yourself rot in bed too? he wanted to ask you so much, but he still didn’t feel like he had the right to pry into your life yet.

it’s been a year since you broke up, two months since you met again, two weeks since you had that conversation – one where he admitted things you weren’t sure you wanted to hear, and you promised things you weren’t sure you could keep.

and now you were here, refilling his glass like no time had passed at all.

jake watches you carefully, his fever-flushed face softening in a way you don’t quite know how to deal with. his gaze lingers – not in the sharp, teasing way he would look at you, but in a quiet, searching way, like he’s seeing something in you he hadn’t noticed before.

placing the glass on the table, you make a final attempt at saving yourself. you’re not sure what you need saving from, jake is the one who’s sick, if anything you have the upper hand here (again, you don’t why you  need a upper hand in the first place), but jake’s sudden intervention had rattled you nonetheless. the way he kept on seeing through you like he knew you better than the back of his hand, even when all your cards were tucked safely in your han and the table in front of you was empty. 

“it’s not like i had a choice.”

“yeah,” jake murmurs. “i guess not.”

a silence settles between you, neither awkward nor comfortable, just there. you could fill it with something light, something inconsequential, but the weight of the moment keeps you still.

jake sets the bowl down on the table, leaning back against the couch. his head tilts slightly, exhaustion tugging at his expression. “you should’ve called.”

you frown. “what?”

“when you were sick,” he says simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “you should’ve called me.”

a bitter laugh rises in your throat before you can stop it. “right. because that would’ve been appropriate.”

jake doesn’t flinch, he just looks at you, steady despite the fever dulling his edges. “i wouldn’t have cared about “appropriate.”

you open your mouth, then close it again. because what can you even say to that? you hadn’t called him. of course, you hadn’t. it had been a year. a whole year of learning how to exist without him, of burying old instincts, of teaching yourself not to reach for your phone when something reminded you of him.

but now, sitting here, watching the way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you, you wonder if you ever really unlearned any of it.

you exhale, shaking your head. “just finish the soup, jake.”

his lips twitch, barely a ghost of a smile. he doesn’t argue.

maybe it’s the fever, or maybe it’s just him, but he doesn’t stop watching you. even as he eats, even as the warmth returns to his face, even as you sit there, pretending this is normal.

you don’t look back at him. you can’t.

because something about this – about being here, about taking care of him again – feels too easy. about the way he so easily manages to remind you of the past despite yourself, how he easily manages to look past you, through you, at you with those same kind eyes you had fallen in love with all those year ago. and you don’t know what to do with that.

so you do what comes to you naturally when your mind is crumbling on itself. you move, you work, you take action. you make yourself busy.

shrugging off your jacket, you push the sleeves of your shirt up and rummage through another plastic bag. pulling out a packet of fever reducing medicines, you pop one out of its pellet and hand it to jake.

“have this, then go to sleep.” there’s determination in your voice, you’re already planning out what to do, “i’ll clean up here and check on you later, so just go get some rest and don’t worry too much about it.”

jake doesn’t want to argue, but he doesn’t want to waste his time sleeping when he knows you’ve already made up your mind to stay in his apartment for the time being. also, he doesn’t want to make you clean up after him.

“wait y/n, you don’t have to clean up–”

“jake, for all i know, you’ve been marinating in your own sickness for two days straight,” you deadpan, already picking up the leftover dishes off his table and striding towards his kitchen, shaking your head at the sinkful of old dishes, “go to sleep, i’ll wake you up in a few hours and you can take a shower then. i’ll change your sheets while i’m at it too–”

you ramble off about the list of things you’re mentally taking note of and it makes jake dizzy. this is a side of you that is new to him. it’s like you’re giving him no chance at making a move. he sees you deal out your cards, it’s so clear to him, but he feels powerless right now, your back facing him like a sturdy wall.

he follows the line of your shoulders, the tension taut in them as you continue with your work, your hands moving on their own as you rinse dishes and rearrange the kitchen, though you’re not really seeing any of it. the soft clink of plates against each other fills the quiet room, but your mind is miles away.

behind you, you hear jake shift on the couch, a low sigh escaping his lips. it’s soft, the kind of sigh that says more than words ever could. you try to focus on the task at hand, but every time you move, you feel his eyes on you. it makes your skin feel too tight, your thoughts too loud.

you hear his footsteps receding as he makes his way to his room, the sound of his movements getting muffled the further away he moves. he doesn’t shut the door behind him, instead, getting in bed and letting himself be lulled into a sleep with the sound of your own movements in the kitchen. and it feels unreal.

jake is half certain that he would wake up and realise that this had all just been a fever dream, that he had indeed been hallucinating your figure, tat he had conjured up your voice from the depths of his memory, that the frown on your pretty face had been his karma – even in his dreams, you were upset at him. and for a while he tries to stay awake, fighting his heavy eyes and the soreness in his limbs and the weight of the blanket over his frame. 

you hear the soft creak of the bed, the rustle of sheets. it’s a quiet reminder that jake is still there. that he’s still so close, even though you’ve tried to keep your distance. he’s not the one who’s avoiding you anymore. you are. and every moment you spend not looking at him, not addressing what’s hanging between you, it feels like a crack getting wider.

a distant groan from the bedroom snaps you out of your thoughts. jake. his voice, thick with the fever, is a reminder of how everything is spinning out of control. you pause for a moment, eyes flicking towards the hallway, your heart tightening in your chest.

you didn’t call him when you were sick. you didn’t need to. you couldn’t. but right now, you’re here. you’re standing in his kitchen, pretending you’re not trembling with every second that passes, pretending you’re not dying to check on him. to feel something, anything, other than this cold distance you’ve forced between you both.

but you simply dissociate. your movements grow more mechanical as you tidy up, but you know that you're running from something. running from the truth, from the flood of emotions that threaten to break the fragile dam you've built. the truth is, you’ve been avoiding him for so long – maybe longer than you even realized – but the cracks are showing now, and it's making everything harder than it needs to be.

you try not to think about the past, the things you’ve buried, but it’s impossible. because here you are, again. taking care of him. watching him. being drawn to him despite everything that should keep you apart.

the silence stretches, only the sound of water and cutlery keeping you company. if you strain your ears, you could probably hear the laboured breaths in the bedroom. 

the glass in your hand feels heavier now, like it’s a vessel for everything you’ve kept inside. you’re holding it with too much force, fingers tight around it, but you don’t want to let go. you’re afraid that if you do, the dam will break. that all the words, all the thoughts you’ve buried so deep, will flood out and you won’t be able to stop them.

two.

somewhere in the middle of a restless sleep and the sense of a lingering presence, jake finds himself being shaken awake.

there’s a gentle pressure on his arm, squeezing his skin comfortingly and coaxing his eyes to flutter open. his head feels lighter this time around, weighed down by a damp cloth that feels like a balm across his skin, but its the hand around his arm that he really zeroes in on the moment he’s up.

so you hadn’t been a fever dream after all. that means you had been upset at him in reality. well, that’s a concern for later. all he registers is that you hadn’t left. yet. 

“hey,” your voice is tentative, just like your fingers curling around his arm as if you’re afraid you’re going to startle him back into consciousness, “you should get up and take a shower, i ran you some hot water”

your voice, it’s so quiet and sweet. your fingers graze against his skin when you remove the towel off his and run your fingers across the long strands of hair across his forehead – he shivers. your forehead puckers into a frown, palm flattening against his head again. a small sigh escapes his lips, the feeling so welcome, he lets his eyes fall shut again, but you move your hand again and all jake feels is the emptiness lying heavy against his skin.

jake blinks slowly, the sleep still clouding his vision as he processes your words, the absence of your touch a sharp contrast to the warmth you’d left behind. he swallows hard, pushing himself up with effort, the weight of exhaustion still clinging to him.

the cool air from the window brushes against his damp skin, and he can hear the soft rustling of the room as you move around, no longer hovering. you’ve given him space, and yet, he feels more crowded than ever by the silence between you two. the quiet hum of the room is deafening.

his hands reach for the towel you’d left behind, the fabric still warm from the contact with his skin. he presses it to his forehead again, and for a fleeting moment, he thinks about how this small gesture – this simple act of care – might have been enough if he hadn’t messed it all up.

when he shuffles into the bathroom, you're already there, standing at an awkward angle away from the showerhead as you twist and turn the knobs, one hand under the water to test the temperature.

“just a sec, it’s a bit too hot right now,” you barely glance at him as you continue with his ministrations. and jake? he’s honestly still too tired to want to read into your actions but that doesn’t mean his chest doesn’t twist in a weird way.

once you’ve determined the right temperature of the water, you move towards jake who’s leaning with his head against the bathroom tiles. the room itself is tiny, a two-by-two metre cubicle that feels too crowded with the both of you inside. jake sniffles, raising his arms in a pathetic attempt to take his jacket off but he’s obviously unsuccessful.

you don’t even spare a reaction, naturally moving to help him, maneuvering one arm out of his jacket, then the other. and it’s with this same instinct that your fingers reach for the hem of his shirt too, ready to pull it over his head but you stop at the very last second, almost abruptly, it gives you a whiplash.

instantly your eyes meet his. he’s already looking at you and unfortunately you can read his emotions all too well.

the shower runs in the background, steam curling up into the air, and you both stand there for a moment, hesitating. part of jake wants to stay lost in the haze of exhaustion, to let you take the call and help him take his shirt off. but another part – the part that knows you woldn’t dare unless he pushed you – wants to step forward with his arms stretched out, telling you to take it off for him.

jake swallows again, this time louder, his throat dry. he could let you take over, could surrender to the care you’re offering, let you guide him through the motions. it would be easy to let go, but there’s something about the way you’re looking at him – something raw and real – that makes him second-guess.

“i… i can do it,” jake says hoarsely, his voice quiet and rough, like it hasn’t been used properly in too long. his hands hover, reaching up toward his shirt but faltering at the last second. you see him pause, the conflict in his eyes, and for a split second, he wishes he could pretend it was just the exhaustion talking. but it's not. it’s more than that.

you stand there, frozen, hand still poised just inches from his chest, the tension between you two becoming almost suffocating. but despite the silence, there’s an unspoken understanding that lingers between you, a fragile thread that hasn’t snapped yet.

finally, you take a step back, releasing a quiet breath as you straighten up. you glance down for a moment, biting your lip, then look back at him with a mixture of resolve and something softer. "you should... you should take care of it yourself," you say, your voice a little strained, as though you're holding something back.

jake wants to argue, to tell you it's fine, to just let him lean into whatever you've been offering. but instead, he stays quiet, his gaze not leaving yours. he takes the final step toward the shirt, the fabric slipping off easily, but for some reason, the act feels heavier now. the weight of the decision, the weight of what it means to ask for help or not.

your eyes avert on their own, catching but a momentary peek of his naked skin. this shouldn’t be that weird, you shouldn’t be this flustered. you’ve seen him like this before, hell you’ve seen and done much more than this before, but that was then. this is now – you’re taking care of your sick ex who you’re just friends with.

you wish there was a guidebook for this sort of situation.

you swallow hard and try to keep your voice steady when you speak. "i’ll get you something to eat after," you say, your voice almost too soft, barely reaching him over the water.

there’s a pause. a beat that feels like it could stretch on forever.

"yeah," jake murmurs, his voice low and tired. "thanks."

you can’t quite tell if he means it, if it’s just the exhaustion talking, or if it’s something more. you don’t ask. the weight of his answer is enough. he’s waiting for you to leave before he can get into the shower.

almost against your will, your gaze flickers to him – just a quick look, a fleeting glance. and it’s enough to leave you breathless for a second. his back is to you, but you can see the way his shoulders tense, the curve of his spine, the way condensation already starts setting, dampening his skin with a thin layer of mist from the shower. 

you wish you could stay; it's a thought that startles you and embarrasses you. but it's also a thought that sobers you up in an instant, startling you out of your reverie and making your feet finally move. the door shuts behind you with a soft thud, but you don’t hear the soft click of the lock turning.

the moment the door clicks shut, you press your back against it, letting out a breath you didn't even realize you'd been holding. your hands are trembling slightly, and you quickly clasp them together, squeezing them tight to keep the unease from showing. you force yourself to breathe, to steady the racing thoughts in your head.

you’re just friends now. that’s what you promised, that’s what you agreed on. but why does everything about this feel so far from simple?

the faint sound of the shower running leaks through the thin walls. a knot tightens in your stomach. you press your palms against the door, the coolness of the wood grounding you for a second. this is supposed to be temporary, you remind yourself. just a few more hours, a couple of days at most, and you’ll both go back to your separate lives. you can’t afford to let yourself slip back into this space. not now.

jake stands still in the shower, the hot water cascading over him, though it does little to wash away the frustration building inside. his thoughts race faster than the droplets falling from the showerhead, each one a sharp reminder of how easy it was to slip back into this. the moment you stepped into the apartment, everything shifted. even though you'd kept your distance, it didn’t take much for him to feel the pull again.

he shuts his eyes tighter, pushing the water away, wishing it could drown out the thoughts swirling in his head. why? why was it so easy to let you back in? how did you always know the right thing to do? 

then again, he had always blindly believed you back when you were together, trusting your decisions like they were the bible itself. maybe that had been his downfall in a way, when he had reluctantly but respectfully agreed to the breakup. thinking about it now, you were wrong. you had been so wrong, and he had resented you for it. he had resented himself for believing you just because he was in love with you and he realised not much had changed, because he had let you fool him again by making him promise to be just friends with him. even after a whole year of repenting, resolving and regretting, it had been that easy for you to crumble him in your hands – all because he still loves you.

and he thinks that is reason enough to let himself be wavered by you – your imploring eyes, your worried lips, the frown on your face, the plea in your voice – he’d give in to you and your demands any day and every day.

but he doesn’t think he wants to. right now, standing under the warm water you had run for him, it enraged him a little how he had just stood there letting you do your thing while he waited. no, in fact, its not the waiting that set him off, he would wait for you for however long you made him, it was the way you had such an easy say in his life. how you could just do something, and he wouldn’t question it.

why should we remain friends?

he should have asked you that rather than agreeing along with you. you had given him no logical reason, but he had sensed the emotionally turbulent place it had come from, so he had left it at that. but now he wants to know. now he wants to know why you should remain just friends? why would you be here taking care of him when he’s sick? do you not still love him?

your voice from earlier lingers in his ears: i’ll get you something to eat after. the way you said it was soft, almost like a promise. but he can’t help but hear the unspoken words between the lines. it wasn’t just about food. you were offering something more, but you were hiding it behind the guise of something mundane. you were offering care, but you were also offering distance.

jake grips the edge of the shower, knuckles white as he exhales sharply. the water no longer feels comforting. it’s just another distraction. another way for him to bury his feelings.

"god," he mutters to no one, his voice barely above a whisper. "why do you still do this to me?"

he’s angry. angry at the situation, angry at himself for still caring, for still wanting you in ways he shouldn't. and yet, underneath the anger, there's an ache – a yearning that refuses to be ignored. he wants to reach out, to pull you back, to make you see that he still matters. that they both still matter.

but instead, he grits his teeth, trying to keep the heat of his frustration contained. no more waiting, he thinks. no more pretending.

when the water runs cold, he steps out of the shower, his body shivering slightly, but it’s nothing compared to the chill creeping under his skin. he pulls a towel around his waist and stares at his reflection in the foggy mirror. for a second, he barely recognizes the man in the glass. the person he used to be – the one who thought everything would just fall into place after the breakup, the one who convinced himself they could both move on – feels like a stranger.

but he’s done pretending now.

jake pulls open the bathroom door and steps into the hallway, the soft hum of the apartment the only sound. he doesn’t have a plan, but he knows one thing for sure: he’s not going to let this go without asking the questions that have been haunting him. not anymore.

you’re sitting on the couch, your knees tucked under your chin, a blanket draped over your lap. you’re only half paying attention to the television, head peeking up every so often to check the pot of soup boiling over the stove. the sight almost makes him turn back. almost makes him halt in his steps and rethink what he’s about to do. does he really want to break this moment?

i mean, he could retreat now, disappear into the quiet of his thoughts, and then return to let you serve him the warm cup of soup. he could play it off, pretending not to read too much into it, maybe even use the moment to ask about your time in japan. you'd tell him about how much you loved it, carefully sidestepping any mention of the loneliness you’d carried with you, dodging his prying questions with practiced ease. after that, you'd clean up again, hand him the fever-reducing pills, and tuck him into bed. he’d wake up feeling better, and you’d finally leave. and when you did, things would go back to what they were before. just friends. just the way it had always been.

and then you’ll keep being ‘just friends’.

but he doesn’t. instead, he walks towards you, his footsteps steady despite the whirlwind inside him. his naked torso feeling the brunt of his actions as the cool breeze pricks his skin.

"you’re not going anywhere, are you?" the question slips out before he can stop it, his voice rough. he’s barely even aware of the way his heart pounds in his chest.

you look up at him, surprise flickering across your face, but it doesn’t last long. you meet his gaze, steady, cautious, before they trail along the path of his body – his naked body, save for the towel around his waist. what the fuck.

"jake," you start, but your voice falters, unsure of how to navigate this new situation, “i’m right here, so can you please go put something on, you’re gonna get sick again if y–”

but he’s not going to let you hold back. not anymore.

"no," he interrupts softly. "i need to know, right now. why are we still pretending?"

three.

the room holds its breath, the tension almost tangible in the quiet after jake’s question. for a moment, neither of you speaks. your eyes flicker between him and the door, as if you could somehow slip out of this without answering. but you know you can’t. not anymore. not with the weight of his question hanging between you.

he’s let you convince him to put on clothes for the moment, but he refuses the bowl of soup you set in front of him.

“answer me y/n, i’m not eating anything until you answer my questions tonight.”

you can already feel a headache creeping up your neck. you sit on the other end of the couch, burying your head in your hands and letting out a weary sigh. jake had picked the worst time to be his stubborn self again.

you clear your throat, trying to regain control of the situation, but your voice feels small, fragile. “jake… i – i don’t know what you want me to say.” you stand up slowly, hands still gripping the blanket around you, though the warmth of it feels distant now. “you’re sick. you should just rest.”

but jake doesn’t look sick. not in the way he did when you first found him, feverish and weak, barely able to sit up. he sits across you now, your bodies separated by just a few feet. there’s a fire in his eyes, something raw and insistent that makes it hard to breathe.

“you’re avoiding the question,” he says, his voice low but firm. “why are we still pretending? why are you really here?”

“where is this coming from? i thought you were fine with me being here–”

“yeah, i was sick and barely in any condition to argue with you.”

“oh. oh, so now that you’re feeling better you think you can–”

“i can what?” jake’s voice is still raspy, but it's firm. it rattles you. jake has always been the more emotional one in your relationship whereas you took the reign of being the logical counterpart. yet now, you can’t find yourself coming up with anything close to a logical explanation.

you hesitate, the words swirling in your mind but never quite making it past your lips. his question cuts through everything you’ve been holding back, and you feel exposed, raw. this isn’t the same dynamic anymore. jake’s eyes bore into yours, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface, and you can’t look away.

“i – i don’t know what you want from me,” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. “i thought... i thought we were just getting through this. i’m here because i care about you, jake. i always have.”

jake’s jaw tightens, and he takes a step forward, his presence looming over you. his gaze doesn’t soften; it only grows more intense, more insistent.

“no,” he says quietly. “you’re here because you can’t let go of whatever we were, but you're too scared to admit it. you’re scared of what happens next, scared of how things might change if we stop pretending.”

the words hit harder than you expect. you recoil slightly, trying to maintain your composure, but the tension in the room feels suffocating, like you’re drowning in the weight of your own fear. you can feel your pulse in your throat, each beat hammering against your chest.

“i’m not pretending,” you murmur, but even to your own ears, it sounds hollow. “i’m... i’m just trying to make sure you're okay.”

jake doesn’t let you off the hook. “and what about you? what are you doing, huh? what about what you need?” his voice cracks just a little at the end, the vulnerability slipping through. you’ve never heard him sound like this before, and it shakes you to your core. the certainty in his eyes falters for just a second, but when he speaks again, it’s like he’s trying to bury it. “i can’t do this anymore. i can’t be the one who’s always waiting for you to come back, for you to decide if i’m worth it.”

you flinch. his words strike deeper than any physical blow could. he’s right, in a way you’ve been refusing to face him. you’ve been holding him at arm’s length, never fully letting him back in, always waiting for something – anything – that would make it easier to walk away without feeling like you’re suffocating. but jake’s not giving you that luxury anymore.

“what the hell are you even saying jake,” your temper rises now, you’re not sure if its the way jake deems the way you regard him or whether it's the truth of everything he is hitting you with all of a sudden, “you are worth everything i have ever put my life upon, don’t go around making me the bad guy. i have never deemed you any less than what you deserve, and you’ve always deserved the best.”

these words are unfiltered and sound almost childish in your ears. gone is the grace with which you pride yourself in forming sentences, now everything you’re saying sounds like some third grade rendition of a love letter. you burn in embarrassment and anger, because in the end, jake has reduced you to this state.

but jake doesn’t regard it as such, if anything, he’s gotten you to finally talk.

“what are you afraid of?”

you look at him, your throat tight, and suddenly, it feels like everything is crashing down. it’s always been easier to lie, to hide behind excuses, behind the safety of distance. but with jake right in front of you, his question still lingering – for the first time, you can’t push it away. you can’t hide from it anymore.

“what am i afraid of?” you repeat the words softly, like a question to yourself. but deep down, you already know the answer, and it terrifies you.

“i’m afraid of what happens when we stop pretending,” you confess, voice cracking. you can’t look at him as you say it – can’t bear to meet his eyes, because everything you’ve been burying under the surface comes spilling out in the form of this one fragile truth. “i’m afraid that if we really look at this... at us, there won’t be anything left to hold on to.”

jake’s silence is deafening. you risk a glance at him, only to find him staring at you with something close to heartbreak in his gaze. his lips press together, and for a moment, you think he’s going to say something, but then his chest rises and falls with a sharp breath, like he’s swallowing everything he feels.

“you think... you think that if we let go, we’ll be nothing?” his voice is quieter now, almost lost. but there’s still that fire in it, just softer. “is that what you really believe, y/n? that everything we had means nothing if it’s not perfect?”

you wish you could say something, anything, to make this easier – to make him understand. but it’s all coming out now, too much and too fast.

“i don’t know what i’m doing, jake.” the words tumble out, helplessly, just like the tears that start rolling down your cheeks, “i... i don’t know how to stop being afraid that we’ll just break again. that i’ll break, and i’ll hurt you, and then there won’t be any coming back from it.”

you hesitate, taking a shaky breath, and the real reason – one that’s been buried so deep for so long – slips out before you can stop it. “i was so scared of losing you, jake. but i realized that if i kept holding onto you like that maybe i’d end up suffocating you.”

jake’s jaw tightens, and you watch his expression shift. you don’t know if he understands completely, but something flickers in his eyes. you think about the time you walked away, the way you chose to close off instead of facing the fear of losing him to your own need for control. the thing you were so afraid of – the thing that led to your breakup.

“the thing is,” you continue, voice cracking, “i wanted us to be this perfect thing, but i couldn’t let go of the part of me that was terrified. i kept pushing you away. and then... when we finally did break up, i thought i was saving us both from more hurt. but all i was really doing was hurting you.”

jake’s hand inches towards you, afraid that you would pull away before he could reach you. when his fingers finally find yours across the couch, he holds on firmly. you don’t pull away.

“i thought you just didn’t need me anymore. that you were pushing me out, choosing to shut me out because you didn’t want to deal with the mess of everything we were.”

he looks at you, and it’s like his eyes are pleading for you to see it. “but i was just trying to be there. for you. i tried everything i could, y/n. you wouldn’t let me in. every time i pushed, you pulled back. and in the end, i felt like i was nothing but a burden to you. that was why i stepped back...because i thought it was what you wanted. i thought i wasn’t enough.”

the truth of his words settles like a weight in your chest, heavy and sharp. the weight of his hand on top of yours feels burdensome, but then his fingers start caressing your skin, thumbing circles across the soft flesh of your wrist.  and then you realize: all that time, while you were protecting yourself from the pain of losing him, you were pushing him into a corner, suffocating him with your need for control. and it destroyed the connection you had – your walls went up, and his came down.

“you thought you weren’t enough?” you whisper, the tears keep rolling, “i’m sorry. i was so scared... scared that if i let you too close, i’d lose myself in you. i needed to keep control, jake. but i never wanted to push you away like that. and i... i didn’t see how badly i was hurting you until it was too late.”

jake now turns to you entirely. all his yearning oozes out of him desperately, maybe it’s because you’ve finally had this talk, but he can feel the tiredness returning in his limbs, finally relieved. he expects you to completely push him away, but he reaches out regardless and maneuvers you with gentle hands across his lap.

“if you know now that you hurt me, take responsibility for it.” he says, letting you ease yourself in his hold. you’re hesitant at first, but with every stroke of his fingers across your cheeks, you settle down and let him wipe your tears away.

he buries his face against the crook of your neck and it's a feeling you don’t realise you’ve missed. the sigh that tumbles out your lips is just a testimony of you finally giving in to this feeling.

“jake,” your voice is a silent whisper, “you’re still sick, you shouldn’t be–”

but whatever it is that you think jake shouldn’t be doing is suddenly a thought flung right to the back of your mind when his lips meet yours in a silent plea. just the soft touch of his chapped skin against yours. it ends as abruptly as it starts.

“fuck,” he curses, slightly out of breath even though he hadn’t done much, “you’re right, i’m sick, i shouldn’t be kissing you–”

oh but who cares. it’s just a mild fever, so what if you fall sick too?

you’re pressing your lips against him too, shutting him up with a kiss that he surrenders himself into despite his own protest against his sickness. because you’re here, in his arms, kissing him like that's all you’ve wanted to do. and for once, jake doesn’t complain, because you’ve never kissed him like this before. you've never shown him just how starved you are for him. and he understands this feeling, he’s felt this way for you forever, but he’s also slightly dumbfounded at the way you hold him tight and kiss him breathless.

he feels dizzy again, but not for anything in the world is he going to stop you right now. he simply latches on to you tighter, pulling you impossibly close and moves his lips with yours, letting you bruise his own.

you both finally pull away, breathless, eyes searching the other like you’ve been lost in the dark for too long. the weight of everything that’s been unsaid, everything that’s been holding you both apart, is still there, but now there’s something else. a sense of clarity, an understanding that feels so fragile, like the first light breaking through a storm.

jake presses his forehead to yours, a soft laugh escaping him as he steadies his breath. “god, i’ve missed you like this. i’ve missed us.” his voice is low, raw with emotion, and you feel that familiar pull in your chest again – the one you’ve been trying to ignore, trying to convince yourself isn’t real. but it is. it always has been.

you pull back slightly, still tangled in his arms, your heart racing. “jake, i... i don’t know how to fix all the damage i’ve done. i don’t even know if i deserve to ask for another chance... after everything.”

his eyes soften, his thumb gently brushing over your lips like he's memorizing the way they feel against his skin. “y/n,” he says, his voice steady and sure now, “you don’t have to fix anything all at once. we don’t have to pretend like everything’s perfect, because it’s not. but i’m willing to try again, if you are.”

your chest tightens at his words, the weight of everything still hanging between you, but it feels like the first step. it feels like a chance to rebuild, even if it’s not easy, even if it takes time. he’s offering you the space to breathe, to come to him when you’re ready, but with no expectation that you have it all figured out. 

“i’m scared, jake,” you admit, your voice trembling. “i’m scared i’ll push you away again. that i’ll hurt you again.”

he shakes his head, a small, reassuring smile playing at his lips. “you won’t. not if we face it together.”

you feel a strange sense of calm settle over you, like a weight lifting off your shoulders, even though the future is still uncertain. but for the first time in a long time, it’s not so terrifying. maybe because you’re not facing it alone.

“can we... just take it slow?” you whisper, your fingers curling into his shirt. “can we rebuild this, piece by piece? i don’t want to rush it.”

jake smiles, despite the sudden dull thudding in his head.

“you’re asking for slow after you just kissed me like that?”

you know he’s teasing you, you feel the warmth flush your cheeks but before you can reprimand him, his hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you in for another gentle kiss; this time slower, deeper, like he’s memorizing the way you feel against him. when he pulls away, there’s a look in his eyes that tells you more than words ever could.

“slow’s fine with me,” he murmurs. “we’ll do it at our own pace. whatever it takes.”

you bury your face in the crook of his neck; it feels like home.

“thank you,” you whisper, even though you’re not entirely sure what you’re thanking him for yet. for understanding? for being patient? for loving you despite everything?

you don’t know. but you’re grateful.

“i’ll make it right, jake,” you say, your voice muffled against his skin. “i’ll find a way to make it right.”

and for the first time, you truly believe it.

epilogue.

a week later, you’re sprawled on the couch, tissues scattered around you, feeling miserable. jake walks in, grinning, holding soup and medicine.

“you really went for it, huh?” he teases, setting the soup down. “kissed me, and now you’re sick.”

you groan. “you didn’t have to kiss me back so passionately.”

jake laughs. “what can i say? i had to make up for lost time.”

you roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “well, it’s your fault. i was fine until you—"

“don’t even try to blame me,” he cuts in, sitting beside you. “we both know you loved it.”

before you can retort, jay pops his head out from your kitchen, shaking his head. “you two seriously couldn’t wait a week to not get sick?”

you throw a pillow at him. “shut up, jay.”

he grins. “i’m just saying, you couldn’t have waited at least a week, or at least till he got better? are you guys animals, did you have to make out right then?”

you groan and pull the blanket tighter around yourself. “jay, please, you’re killing me.”

jake chuckles, clearly amused by jay’s teasing. “i’m sure it was worth it.”

jay raises an eyebrow. “it better have been. you’re both out of commission now. y/n’s got the cold, and i’m stuck being the responsible one. like i don’t have enough to deal with.”

you glance at jake, still leaning into him for comfort, and say in your best innocent voice, “you could always leave, jay. let us suffer in peace.”

jay gives you a mock glare. “oh, i see how it is. i come over to check on you, and now i’m the bad guy.”

jake smirks, clearly enjoying the banter. “you’re lucky we didn’t need you to play nurse. we’ve got it covered.”

jay rolls his eyes dramatically, then turns to leave. “fine. but if you two are going to be in here swapping germs and cuddling like an old married couple, don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

before he can disappear completely, you call out after him. “hey, jay?”

he pauses at the door.

“next time, bring actual medicine. not just your sarcasm.”

jay grins, tossing a playful wink over his shoulder. “can’t help it, y/n. it’s what i do best.”

with that, he’s gone, and the silence between you and jake is comfortable, warm. you look up at him, giving him a half-smile.

“i guess it’s just us then?”

jake kisses your forehead gently. “just us.”

[adoresia]

꣑ৎ contains ★ Fluff ,, Crack ,, suggestive (if you squint) ,, might be ooc cause i havent met him yet.. gulp.

ft Michael Kaiser :: ★ Getting a matching tattoo with your boyfriend was one thing, trusting him with a needle was definitely another. ★ W/C 0.8k

˙🧷 ̟ Sia here ! :: I haven’t even met kaiser yet but i saw this illustration and i started barking out loud, i saw it on pinterest but the artist is bunnyluvrrr on instagram her drawings are so good you guys should go check them out 😚😚

˙🏷️ ̟ Kaiser’s masterlist | BLLK masterlist | Main masterlist

Looking back, you weren’t sure why you agreed to let him tattoo you. Actually scratch that, you knew exactly why — because of his inability to take no for an answer.

A week ago, when he first proposed the idea of getting matching tattoos you almost choked on your drink. “You? Want to Tattoo me? Yeah, no.” you laughed off this sudden joke of his, but knowing him he wasn’t going yo give up so easily. “You didn’t even think about it,” he whined dramatically. Flopping onto the couch beside you with the same infuriating grin. “I’ve got great hands. You trust me on the field don’t you?”

“Hey so, a football and a needle are actually two different things.”

“Don’t you think I’d be good at it? I’ve got an eye for detail.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” you muttered, but he ignored it completely.

“I think it would be cool,” he insisted, leaning closer. “Our tattoos will connect like we do. That’s Romantic, no?” You squinted at him. “That sounds like a really bad pickup line”

“Well, did it work?” He smirked smugly. “I literally just said bad.” you deadpanned him. Why is he trying to gaslight you?” Admit you’re thinking about it.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking about why I’m still talking to you.”

But of course, a week later here you were. Perched on the extra cushioned chair of a makeshift tattoo station he set up especially for you, your leg extended across his lap while he prepped the machine with a confident flick of his wrist.

“You nervous?” His voice was honeyed with amusement as his eyes flickered up to meet yours. “No.” you lied through your teeth. “Just wondering how and why I ended up trusting you with a needle.”

“Because you realised you have nothing to worry about, I am the best. You know that right?” He chuckled. “At football, maybe.” You answered rolling your eyes.His grin only grew as he gently took hold of your thigh, his fingers brushed against your skin in a way that made your breath hitch. He was steady and confident, yet surprisingly tender.“I’ll be gentle,” he promised. Athough the teasing tone in his voice made you doubt it. “Yeah okay, just hurry up.”

The humming sound of the machine filled the room, and the first prick of the needle made you tense. His hand tightened ever so slightly around your leg grounding you. “Relax,” he reassured. “It’ll hurt less if you stop being so stiff.”

Easy for him to say.

Okay you were nervous, but not just about the tattoo. There was something about the way his fingers rested on your skin, firm yet oddly intimate, that had your heart racing. And of course he noticed.

“Aw, what’s this?” he teased, glancing up with a grin. “You sure it’s the needle making you so nervous?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh yeah?” he teased, his voice thick with amusement. “Is that why you keep looking away from me? I see those paintings on the wall everyday. There isn’t anything all that interesting about them.” he teased. You hadn’t even realised you were staring so hard at the paintings behind him, trying to divert your attention from what was going on in front of you.

“Focus on the tattoo.” was the inly thing you could muster up. It made him laugh. The sound was warm and far too smug. “Whatever you say.”

As the needle traced along your leg, following the intricate design that wrapped from his arm to your leg, you couldn’t help but notice how focused he was. Despite all the teasing, he was meticulous with the way he traced the ink into your skin. The thorned stem mirrored the one on his arm — it was sharp and elegant. The vines curled gracefully around your thigh, wrapping down your leg in a way that made it look seamless, as if your tattoos were always meant to be connected.

Every one of his movements was precise and his concentration showed in the way he furrowed his eyebrow. His usual arrogance was still there, but it was tempered by precision and care. His teasing words contrasted with the steady determination and gentleness in his eyes.

“Are you still with me?” he asked, his voice somewhat softer now.

“mhm,” you managed to utter. Although your heart raced for reasons that had very little to do with the sting of the tattoo at this point.

“Your a tough girl.”

The teasing never stopped but neither did the gentleness. His thumb brushed absentmindedly against your skin which soothed the burn of the needle. You wondered if he even realized he was doing it.

“You’re doing great baby,” he praised. His eyes flickered up again. “I told you I was good with my hands.”

“Do you ever stop flirting?”

“Not when it’s working.”

Despite yourself, you laughed. The tension eased from your body and he grinned as if that was the real victory here. And when he finally finished, he leaned back to admire his work. The thorned stem wrapped elegantly around your leg, seamlessly continuing from his own tattoo. It was beautiful; raw and intimate in a way you could’ve never expected.

“Perfect.” he said proudly, wiping down the fresh ink. “Just like us.”

“You’re so annoying.” you muttered. Although your lips curled into a smile.

“And yet here you are,” he grinned as he wiped the last bit of ink residue from your skin.

You ignored him though, turning your leg slightly to get a better look at the intricate design etched into the entirety of your leg. It was so beautifully detailed. Each curve wrapped so elegantly around your skin, tracing a sinuous path from just above your knee to the side of your thigh, and the way it so seamlessly connected to Kaiser’s own tattoo felt… intimate. Like your tattoos were meant to intertwine, bound together, just as he had promised.

“Wow,” you breathed, fingers hovering near the fresh ink but really careful not to touch. “You outdid yourself.”

He said nothing at first, unusually silent and less taunting. His eyes fixed on your reaction instead of the tattoo. You could feel his gaze, it was warm and unwavering. Tracking every subtle shift of your expression while you admired his work. His usual teasing demeanor softened as it was replaced by something quieter and more genuine.

“You like it?” he finally asked, you glanced up at him and when you met his gaze your heart did that stupid fluttering thing it always did when he dropped the cocky act for just a second. “Yeah,” you admitted, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “I love it.” His lips curved into a knowing smirk. “I know you do.” You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest lingered.

He leaned closer, thumb brushing gently along your thigh just below the fresh ink. “I told you I was good with my hands,” he murmured , the teasing glint returned to his eyes. “And your ego is still insufferable.”

“But you love that too,” he said confidently. You shook your head with a laugh. “Debatable.”

“Not at all” His fingers lingered on your skin for a bit longer than necessary. “It is romantic, right?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, though you didn’t pull away from his touch.

“And yet you’re still here,” he whispered smugly, “matching tattoo and all.” He pressed a kiss just above the tattoo, his breath was warm and gentle against your freshly inked skin. “But you do love it, right?” He asked, eyes gleaming as he looked up at you.

“I guess I do.”

[enhanextdoor]

𓂃۶ৎ 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 ━━━ 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖻𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾.

이희승 (l.hs). ─────⠀ㅤ 1,568 (in total) ―୨୧⋆ ˚ 𝗳!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗑 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹!𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 𓈒 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬. ⠀

부인 성명 (disclaimer) : read at your own risk. there is going to be fluff and angst themes. NOT PROOFREAD

taglist: @choisanswife. @leehsngs.

everyone knows the story of romeo and juliet. star crossed lovers that had their relationship end in tragedy, so why did you think that you had a chance to make it? they couldn’t. you should always learn your lessons from the books, that is what we are supposed to do. the thing is that lee heeseung was the exception, or so you thought. you didn’t think it would hurt to date the one person you are not supposed to. you were off limits to him and he was off limits to you but that only drew the both of you in. the fact that you weren’t allowed to be together made it all the more thrilling. at first it was just lingering gazes, then it turned into something more. you don’t even remember the moment you let yourself get completely engrossed in him, but it happened. now there you were laying on the ground with a bullet in your stomach as he held you in his arms. you never thought something this extreme would happen, neither of you did. bleeding out in lee heeseung’s arms seemed like quite the way to go. “just hold on y/n…” he cried as he applied pressure to the wound, his hands trembling. 

we should start from a week ago shouldn’t we? that’s why your relationship with heeseung came to light. heeseung was a member of one of the most notorious crime rings and you? the daughter of the competition. heeseung and you had been sneaking around for a little over a year now, you both were getting sloppy with trying to hide the relationship. “you know how much i missed you?” heeseung muttered as he hugged your waist from behind and you leaned back into him. “not enough.” you joked lightly which made him poke at your side. “oh whatever, you don’t even know the half of it.” he retorted and placed a quick kiss to your cheek. you two usually met up at a hotel right outside of town. you joked with him at first that it didn’t feel all that classy, but it’s become a bit of a safe haven for the both of you. somewhere you can both go and just be heeseung and y/n, not who the world needs you to be. 

“want to go get some food?” you questioned while looking the mini bar over, tired of the same options that are always offered. “are you reading my mind? get outtt.” he pouted just a little as he headed over to the door, grabbing the keys to his car. that pout of his was dangerous, you would give him whatever he wanted if he gave you the doe eye pout combo. the both of you walked out of the room and headed to the elevator. you pressed the button and he stood at your side, taking your hand in his own. you loved when he held your hand or was just near you in general. 

“y/n? what are you doing here?” you heard from behind the both of you which caused you to freeze. you recognized the voice almost immediately it was one of the lackeys that work for your family. you know that he knows exactly who is standing beside you and holding your hand, but you turn to look at him arching an eyebrow. “it’s none of your concern.” you straightened up a bit and you saw heeseung watching the guy too. “right, forgive me.” he said and gave a respectful nod as the elevator doors opened. you stepped on and tugged heeseung along with you and he happily followed. he leaned in to place a little peck to your lips. the doors shut and he snickered just a little, “it’s none of your concern” he mimicked you and you elbowed him. “shut up.” 

that was the first mistake, trusting that the lackey wouldn’t go back and report to your family that they saw you engaging with the enemy. that’s exactly what he did, went running right back and reported exactly what he saw, the hand holding. the leaning in as the elevator doors closed. your family was pissed to say the least. that’s why the hit on heeseung was put out in the first place. flashback to today, an hour before you were shot. you both were out on a date of course. you were both so wrapped up in each other that you didn’t notice you were being followed. you were eating some ramyeon since it was his favorite and you both found a place that has the best flavors. “we should just run away together.” he said randomly between bites which caught you a little off guard. “what? you are joking right? we can’t just run away together heeseung, what about your friends and your life?” you questioned and took another bite of your food. “i mean once we get settled down somewhere i’ll reach out and have them come to us. i just want to be somewhere where we can do more things like this. just go out and get ramyeon and be in love.” he admitted. it did sound nice if you were being honest with yourself. somewhere for just you and heeseung to be happy. 

the both of you walked away after you finished your food and cleaned up your area. you were holding hands with him again as you saw someone from the corner of your eye, one of your family’s workers and then you saw the gun. it took only a second for you to process before you pushed yourself in front of heeseung at just the right moment and the bullet that was meant for heeseung went right into you. heeseung didn’t even process it until you were crumpling and he was moving to try and catch you before you hit the ground. “no, no, no, no.” he panicked slightly as his hand moved right over the wound and he started to apply pressure. “someone call an ambulance now!” he screamed out at the onlookers. the gunman ran of course but the second he finds them it isn’t going to be pretty. right now though his main focus is you. 

“hey look at me, it’s going to be okay. the ambulance is going to be here soon.” he assured even though is trembling hands held the wound and the blood coated his hands and the ground. “heeseung..” you lifted your hand to caress his cheek gently, the pain was so unbearable and you were crying. “i love you.” his face filled with worry because that i love you seemed like more of a goodbye. “i love you too. just hold on y/n…” he cried as he applied pressure to the wound, his hands trembling worse than before. he leaned his forehead down to rest on yours as tears streamed down his face as well. “i can’t lose you. i can’t.” he cried softly as he held you. your eyes started to shut and the last thing you remember was the cries from heeseung, begging you to keep your eyes open. 

whatever prayers he said must have worked because you woke up in a hospital bed, hooked up to a few different things. your eyes scanned the room fearfully but the second you saw heeseung curled up in the chair at your bedside, hands still bloodied as well as his clothes, you felt a sense of comfort. his eyes opened slowly feeling the weight of your gaze and as soon as he saw your eyes open he was fully awake sitting up. “y/n. you’re awake.” his voice was gentle, his eyes filled with concern. you gave a weak smile, “yeah it’s going to take more than that to take me out.” you teased a little but he gave you a little unamused expression. “oh haha you are so funny. you really are cracking me up.” he said with a blank expression. his hand gently caressed your cheek and it’s when you realized the blood was still there and he simply didn’t care because you were okay and that was all that mattered. “if you ever do something like that again…” he was talking about jumping in front of a literal bullet for him of course. you just gave him a knowing look. “i get it hee, i promise i won’t do it again.” he took a deep breath and placed the softest kiss on your forehead. 

he had ended up in the hospital bed with you after you forced him to let the nurses bring him some scrubs to change into and he got cleaned up. you both were laying there and your hand was in his. you were playing with his fingers as you relaxed into him as much as you could in a hospital bed after all. “so now can we run away together?” he said, watching as you continued to play with his fingers. “you know i think it’s a great idea, as soon as i’m out of here we can leave and never look back.” you smiled and glanced at him. he returned the smile and placed a little kiss to the tip of your nose causing it to scrunch. “i can’t believe you took a literal bullet for me. never in a million years would i have expected that” he smirked just a little with a cocky little tone. “that’s it, get out of my hospital bed.”

c. enhanextdoor ; do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

a/n: this goes out to all the girlies that love that criminal romance shit. alexa, play criminal.

[sfotiegiuls]

Rafe Cameron

- chapter two -

summary: Rafe Cameron is your best friendor rather he was. He was until you started hanging out with his sister, Sarah and her friends, pogues. Now it’s been some time since you’ve been with him and those rare times you meet him, when you’re with Sarah, he ignores you.

warnings: nothing !

words count: 1.5 k

Rafe cameron X ex- best friend fem!reader

It had been nearly two weeks since the party at the Cameron house, and Rafe hadn’t spoken to you since.

Not that you were surprised.

That night had changed something—shifted the ground beneath your feet in a way you couldn’t quite put into words—but you weren’t sure if it had been for better or worse. It felt like standing on the edge of something uncertain, something dangerous, something you couldn’t turn away from even if you wanted to.

You could still hear his voice, low and rough, a challenge wrapped in something that felt almost like a plea. Prove it.

You could still feel the weight of his stare, burning through you like fire, like he was searching for something in you that he wasn’t sure he’d find. And then there was the way his fingers had brushed against your wrist, hesitant and unsure, like he was caught between pulling you closer and letting you slip away. In the end, he had chosen the latter.

And now?

Now, it was back to silence.

It was like the night had never happened. Like he had never whispered those words to you, never looked at you like he was seeing something he wasn’t supposed to, something he didn’t know how to deal with.

If you saw him around Figure Eight, he barely looked your way. If your paths crossed at a party, he ignored you completely. His eyes would skim past you like you were a stranger, like you hadn’t stood in front of him two weeks ago with your heart on the line, waiting—hoping—for him to meet you halfway.

It was almost worse than before.

Because before, you could convince yourself he didn’t care. Before, you could tell yourself that whatever you felt, whatever this was, it was one-sided.

But now?

Now, you knew.

You had seen it in his eyes, in the way his jaw clenched when you got too close, in the way his hands curled into fists like he was physically restraining himself from reaching for you. You had felt it in the way he had hesitated that night, the way his touch had lingered longer than it should have, like he had been fighting some invisible battle with himself.

And still, he pushed you away.

So, you did the same.

You threw yourself into other things—anything to keep your mind from circling back to him. You spent more time with Sarah, with JJ, John B, and Kie. You let yourself laugh at JJ’s stupid jokes, let Sarah pull you into plans you normally would have said no to. You went out on the boat more, let the salty air tangle your hair, let the sun warm your skin until you felt like you could breathe again.

And for a while, it worked.

For a while, you could convince yourself that you were fine, that you didn’t miss him, that the space he had carved out inside of you wasn’t still aching with the absence of him.

But then there were moments—quiet ones—where your mind betrayed you.

Like now.

You sat on the dock behind Sarah’s house, your legs dangling over the edge as the water lapped gently against the wooden posts. The sun was beginning to set, casting shades of gold and pink across the horizon. The air was warm, thick with the scent of salt and summer, the kind of night that made everything feel a little softer, a little slower.

It should have been peaceful.

But your mind was anywhere but here.

It was back at the Cameron house, back to that night, to the way Rafe had looked at you, the way his voice had wrapped around you like a dare. Prove it.

You had wanted to.

God, you had wanted to.

But he had walked away before you even had the chance.

“Hey, you okay?”

Sarah’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, her concern laced in the soft lilt of her words.

You blinked, dragging yourself back to the present, back to the dock and the water and the fading sun. Turning your head, you found her watching you, her brows knit together, worry shining in her eyes.

You forced a small smile. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

Sarah didn’t buy it. You could tell by the way she tilted her head, studying you like she was picking apart every unspoken thought you didn’t want to say out loud.

“About Rafe?”

You hesitated, but there was no point in lying.

“…Yeah.”

She sighed, shifting beside you so that her shoulder bumped against yours. “I know my brother, and I know he’s an asshole. But I also know he doesn’t just… let people go. Not if they mean something to him.”

Your chest tightened. “Then why does it feel like he already has?”

Sarah was quiet for a beat, staring out at the horizon like the answer might be hidden somewhere in the rolling waves.

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to prove him wrong,” she said finally, her voice softer now.

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “That’s what he said to me that night.”

Sarah’s eyes snapped back to you. “Seriously?”

You nodded, tugging at a loose thread on your shorts, anything to keep your hands busy, to keep yourself grounded in the conversation and not in the past. “Yeah. He told me to prove it. Like I needed to prove to him that he still mattered.” You shook your head, frustration curling in your stomach. “But it’s not that simple. He wants me to choose, Sarah. And I can’t.”

Sarah was silent for a long moment, mulling over your words like she was trying to piece something together.

Then, she said, “You don’t have to.”

You frowned. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

She nudged you again, gentler this time. “Then maybe it’s time to show him.”

You exhaled, long and slow, your gaze drifting back toward the water.

Because maybe she was right. Maybe it wasn’t about choosing. Maybe it wasn’t about proving anything. Maybe it was about reminding Rafe that he had never really lost you in the first place.

But that meant stepping into the storm of who he was, into the chaos that came with loving him. It meant risking your own heart, trusting that he wouldn’t shatter it in the palm of his hands.

The question was… did he even want to be found?

And if he did—would he finally let you stay?

—

You weren’t planning on looking for him. Not really.

But later that night, when the air cooled and the sky deepened to a dark shade of navy, you found yourself walking.

Your feet carried you without thinking, moving through Figure Eight like they had a purpose, like they already knew where they needed to go. Past the quiet streets lined with towering houses, past the beach where the sound of laughter and crashing waves still hummed in the distance, past the edges of where you should have stopped.

And then, you saw him.

Rafe was sitting on the hood of his truck, parked just off the road near the marsh, a half-empty bottle in his hand. The glow of a streetlight flickered above him, casting sharp shadows across his face. His head was tilted back slightly, his gaze fixed on the sky, like he was searching for something in the stars.

You hesitated.

Turn around, a voice in your head whispered. Leave before he sees you.

But it was too late.

His head lowered, and his eyes locked onto yours in the dim light.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, he exhaled, slow and controlled, like he wasn’t sure what to do with the sight of you standing there.

“What are you doing here?”

You swallowed, your pulse thrumming in your ears. “I don’t know.”

Rafe huffed out a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it. He set the bottle down on the truck’s hood, leaning forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

He shook his head, gaze flicking over you like he was trying to figure you out. “Show up when I’m trying to forget you.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking away for a second before muttering, “Not that it ever works.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged.

You could walk away. Let him keep pretending. Let yourself do the same.

Or…

You took a slow step forward, your heart slamming against your ribs. “Then stop trying.”

Rafe’s jaw tensed. His fingers curled into fists on his knees.

You took another step, and this time, he didn’t look away.

And when you finally stopped in front of him, close enough that you could smell the whiskey on his breath, feel the heat radiating off of him, you realized something.

Maybe this wasn’t about proving anything. Maybe it wasn’t about choosing.

Maybe it was just about not running anymore.

And for the first time in two weeks, neither of you did.

———

taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

[witchygagirlwrites]

Hank Voight x Reader

Combining @desimarie12 wanting step dad Voight and @pear-1206 wanting fluffy Hank/self defense fluff

Warnings: mention of abuse

Brandon Edwardson was well, he was a horrible man. He was abusive, manipulative and a drug addict. You needed help getting away from him. You knew if you stayed with him his poison would only spread to your son Theo. He was only a month old and everything good in this world.  You knew if you could get away from Brandon while he was still young enough you could make sure Theo would never be like him.

You sat at the table in the break room at the school. You were staring down at the tea in your hand, trying to breathe around what you were certain were at the bare minimum cracked ribs. You’d fought Brandon for the first time. He’d thrown something at Theo’s crib. Had you won? No but you stood up to him and that was the first step wasn’t it. “Hey” you glanced up to see Brittany Henderson sit across from you. She taught science two halls down. “Hey” you greeted around a grimace.

She gave you a small smile then slid a card across to you. You picked it up and saw it was for a sergeant Henry Voight. “What’s this?” you asked and she shrugged “If you’re ready to leave he can help you with whatever. Just call and tell him I gave you the card. He’s a little rough but he’s a good man” “How did you..” you started but she cut you off with a wave of her hand “He helped me and my mom a long time ago” you picked up the card and held her eyes “Would he come today?” she nodded “Tell him he hurt you over the baby. He’ll come”

You owed Brittany your life. Henry or well Hank as he preferred was indeed a good man. He’d come to the school that very day, had been discreet to talk to you and when you explained the whole situation he’d told you he would help.

He sent uniforms and movers to retrieve yours and Theo’s belongings,helped you get a new cell and put a restraining order on Brandon where he couldn’t come near school grounds or near Theo’s daycare. Since you currently didn’t have a place to go he’d told you that you and Theo were welcome to stay with him, he owned a three bedroom home which was currently mainly empty. 

__________________________

“I’m barely home and when I am I won’t be in your way” he promised as he showed you into the house while you carried Theo in your arms. “Are you sure about this Hank? I could keep staying at the hotel until I find a place?” he shook his head “You’ve been there three weeks sweetheart. I’m sure. Those rooms sit empty. It’s fine” “Thank you” you told him for the thousandth time and he nodded “Get little guy comfortable and I’ll order some dinner”

You sat across from Hank at his table eating the food and couldn’t help but smile. “I know I’ve said thank you a lot but I actually feel safe for the first time in a long time” you nearly whispered and he smiled, his rough voice softer than normal considering you’d just gotten Theo to sleep “I’m glad. I think we need to work on you some form of self defense, maybe get you a carry permit if you’re comfortable with it” you nodded “Ok” and he nodded “Ok, eat then you can get some rest”

Hank had apparently been responsible for new security getting hired at Theo’s daycare. The day you walked in and spotted them you hadn’t even asked beyond Hank telling you they were to put your mind at ease over the possibility of Brandon getting anywhere near Theo.

The longer you knew Hank, the more you were seeing that men could be good. He was rough,yeah but he was also kind. He would come in from a bad case then help you get Theo to bed. He would call you during the day to check in and you’d hear him yell at his unit to shut up before the door of his office would close and he’d talk so gently to you.

___________________________

You were falling for him. You stood next to him at the firing range while he showed you yet again how to break down the gun he’d deemed the right fit for you. You grinned when he stepped behind you and put his hands over yours “You know I can do it Hank?”

He shrugged “Not looking like you’re complaining sweetheart?” you felt your face warm “Not really” he moved his hands with yours as you broke the gun down then put it back together. After you’d done it twice he put his hands down on either side of you, his body trapping yours between it and the stand. You cut your eyes back at him with a smirk “Can I shoot now?” he laughed “Go ahead”

You pulled your ear protection down and he did the same then motioned for the targets. Every single target you hit dead on. You felt his hands brush your hips as he watched you and even then you managed to not get distracted. Once you were done he hit the button and the targets slid up. He nodded approvingly “Good job. I think you’re ready for your carry permit” you grinned “Good, will that make you feel a little better?” he shook his head “Not really. You would be safer with me of course but I can’t be everywhere so this is the next best thing”

He stepped closer to you and brushed hair back out of your face, eyes following the trail “I just want to make sure you and little man are safe even when I’m not there” you smiled, feeling your heart flip “You’re a really good man Hank” “I think you’re the only person in Chicago that thinks that” you laughed “Am I the only person that knows the real you then? You have your moments of being rough but deep down you’re not a monster” 

His eyes went from yours down to your lips then back up. You smiled slightly “If you’re worried I have some hero complex and you think you would be taking advantage I don’t and you wouldn’t but I am gonna be a little disappointed to find out later that you wanted to kiss me as bad as I wanted you to and you didn’t” 

He smiled and gently cupped your chin before bringing your face to his, brushing a kiss against your lips. The moment his lips touched yours you sighed happily against his mouth, your hands going to his shoulders to bring him closer. 

When the two of you had to break away from each other to be able to breathe you smiled at him as he said “I don’t want you and Theo moving out. I want you to stay” you smiled softly “Ok”

Everyone in the unit could see a difference in Hank. The man was damn near agreeable some days and there were a few circumstances where he terrified Adam by having a smile on his face during the day.

The problem was no one had any idea what had changed. Was he on some sort of medication? “Maybe he has a girlfriend?” Hailey offered and Jay spun around to face her, his jaw falling open “Hank with a girlfriend?” she shrugged “We’ve thought about every other option” 

They turned to look back at his office where he was talking to someone and all of them studied his face. He was wearing a smile and they were all a little freaked currently.

__________________________

You were damn near the complete opposite of Hank. You were a teacher for Christ's sake. You were younger than him, had a child that wasn’t even a year old and you were sweet. You baked muffins for him and cupcakes for the kids of your class. He’d wake up on his days off to you dancing around the kitchen wearing one of his shirts while Theo picked at Cheerios in the high chair while you cooked or waited on the coffee.

He’d fallen in love with you quicker than he’d ever imagined, Theo too. You and him were currently fighting to get Brandon’s rights stripped away. Well you were legally fighting, he was calling in favors.

He was sitting in his office, doing paperwork when his phone rang and he smiled to see your name “Hey sweetheart” he heard you take a deep breath “Hank, the daycare’s closed and my lawyer just called. I have to be in court in half an hour or they’ll do another continuance”

“Bring him to me. We’re not working a case and if one comes in I’ll bounce it to Major Crimes” he offered and you hesitated “Hank, I can’t ask you to do that” “Good thing you didn’t then. Drop my little man off at the precinct. I’ll take care of him” “Ok. I’ll see you in a few”

________________________

When Trudy called to say she was bringing you up Hank walked to the stairs to meet you. You smiled as soon as you saw him “Baby, I can’t thank you enough” he shook his head and reached for Theo who was already giggling “Hank” 

He took him and had him on his side before you smiled and stepped closer to press your lips against his in a quick kiss “I love you. I’ll call as soon as I get out” he nodded “Ok sweetheart. If you need anything let me know. Good luck” you planted another kiss on his lips then kissed Theo’s head before jogging back down the stairs.

You no longer had gotten out of the gate then Hank turned around to see all of intelligence staring at him “What?” “You have a kid and a girlfriend?” Jay asked, either the bravest or dumbest out of the bunch. He shook his head “Girlfriend and currently step kid” “Currently” Hailey asked and he smiled “Doesn’t matter. Everyone this is Theo”

The unit traded looks, Ok this explained it. Hank was in love.

You were so excited you ran into the precinct and smiled at Trudy “Pop the gate please” she cut her eyes at you with a broad smile “Good news?” you nodded “Very, I wanna tell Hank first”

“Well go” she waved a hand and you heard the gate pop. You snatched it open and ran up. Hank was standing next to the detective he’d introduced as Jay reading over a file with Theo asleep on his shoulder. You froze for a minute just to take in the view before you let yourself be known. “Hank” you called and he looked towards you “How’d it go” 

“We won” you told him and he smiled “We won” you nodded “They fully stripped him of his rights. He is no longer Theo’s father legally” he never was any other way. He nodded towards his office “Lets talk” you smiled at the detectives as they all congratulated you, apparently haven gotten the basics.

You walked in behind him, rubbing a hand over Theo’s head and froze yet again when you saw the pack n play “Where did that come from?” you asked as he put Theo down in it. He shrugged “I called someone” you shook your head.

He reached a hand for you so you let him pull into his arms. You braced your hands against his shoulders as his went to your hips “You know we already decided for me to adopt Theo?” he asked and you nodded “Yeah”

“I was thinking you both should be Voight’s” you raised an eyebrow “Huh?” he slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out  a gorgeous diamond ring “Will you marry me?” “Are you sure?” you asked, barely able to respond around the knot in your throat. “Yes”

“Then in that case of course. I love you Hank” he smiled and brushed a kiss against your lips “I love you too” then slipped the ring onto your finger and you heard his unit start clapping. You cut your eyes at them and he groaned “Oh yeah sweetheart, those are my kids”

You laughed and waved at them “Yay! Step kids and Theo has big siblings” he shook his head “I love you sweetheart but don’t encourage them”

[artaran]

Superbat, but only in the background for the comedy during a romance office drama.

Hear me out. Half the Daily Planet has noticed Lois and Cat going from pure hatred to actually enjoying the vicious mockery battles. After last year's success of getting Clark together with his longtime fanboy crush, Bruce Wayne, the office is now dedicated to reviving romance once more. So a new groupchat is made, and shenanigans ensue.

Lois attempts to get Clark to help her on an article. Clark, due to the entire office assuming the poor guy can't keep a secret to save his life, is not in the groupchat. However, Bruce told him about it in the supply room five minutes ago. His coworkers are all making "don't you DARE" motions behind Lois's back, because an article exposing a socialite basically leaves her with no other choice but Cat. Clark, only wearing half a tie and with only a third of his buttons actually done up, pretends he forgot whatever he came for in the supply room and will obviously need to be in there for the rest of the week, sorry Lois.

Lois and Cat are still working on that article. In an attempt to speed things along, Jimmy locks them in one of the Daily Planet's conference rooms. While Lois and Cat are having the fight of their lives and are about five seconds away from needing a physical intervention, we see Bruce and Clark running out of the same supply room, across the hallway, away from Deathstroke. Exactly 7 seconds later Deathstroke comes back running through the hallway, this time with Batman and Superman in pursuit. The crash alerts Lois and Cat, but there is no longer anything to see. The moment they turn around, Deathstroke is running back from where he originally came from, still pursued by Batman and Superman. However, Batman is now actively pelting him with keurig coffee pods.

The article is supposed to be done, except Perry prefers submissions to be done on paper, and the printer is empty. Cat and Lois were sharing a coffee cup right until this was discovered, and mood in the office drops into the basement when they start fighting again. Thankfully for the Planet's resident secret superhero, Cat followed Lois to the supply closet to continue that argument, and she opens the door to show us Bruce, shirtless, hitting Ra's al Ghul, also shirtless, with a fire extinguisher, while Clark, not shirtless but only wearing about a third of his shirt due to the previous katana duel he got caught up in, holds him down. Conveniently, Lois didn't look inside because she was too busy arguing with (read: being transfixed by) Cat, and slams the door shut without getting her printer paper.

Cat and Lois were five seconds away from submitting the article when new information came to light. This was, of course, not at all courtesy of Bruce Wayne and his thirst for non-world ending drama (the source is anonymous, after all). Now, they're in an upscale bar on what is definitely not a date. Half the Daily Planet is in cheap wigs and fake moustaches sitting at the bar while Cat and Lois stake out their target. Clark and Bruce are at one of the private tables overlooking the windows, and by now far more invested in Cat and Lois than their own date. This is even more entertaining than rewatching footage of Hal clothesline himself on Batman's grappeline two weeks ago. The target strolls in, and Cat and Lois are firmly convinced the feeling of jealousy is because they are not about to let the other one get the scoop. Clark and Bruce just got a League alert and are now pushing a potted plant in front of their table at a snail's pace so they can jump out of the window unseen. The sight of Batman and Superman flying up from a couple stories below distracts the target long enough to slip up and the women of the hour buy each other drinks, obviously exclusively because neither lost this battle.

The restaurant has to be evacuated and Cat and Lois finally kiss after the emotions of nearly getting crushed by falling debris from the nearby League fighting the villain of the month. Maybe they do have feelings for each other beyond hatred, after all. The costumed Daily Planet reporters cheer. The corner of Batman's mouth ticks up exactly two degrees. Superman falls out of the sky. He is not surprised. He is mad because now he owes the love of his life two dollars because Lois just could not be dense for half a day more. How will he survive?

The next morning, everyone is overjoyed at another romantic success for the Daily Planet reporters. Clark brought his Ma's cake, but hurriedly excuses himself to the supply room. While Perry congratulates Cat and Lois on their successful article and newfound partnership, we see Batman and Superman in the high-rise behind him spraying Lex Luthor with a waterhose.

Cat and Lois make their way to the supply room. On their way in, they politely greet Clark and Bruce, who are on their way out. The entire office signs a pledge to never use that room again.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Whatever it is you’ve been doing

Written for the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Secret Date on the Kissing Booth bonus card and Date on the regular one

Rated: T

Tags: Omegaverse; Alpha!Steve; Omega!Eddie; Secret relationship, Courting rituals, Fluff

Notes: Set in the same verse as Whatever you want it to be.

Dustin Henderson is confused, and Eddie can tell that he's going to make it everybody's problem. 

He glowers at Eddie from under his hat as Steve herds his friends and him into the living room of Harrington Manor, frowns as they unpack their dice and gives snippy replies as Steve takes everyone's pizza order. He calms down a little after that, as they get started with their campaign, but by the time Steve returns with the food, his mood sours again. 

“Extra cheese and no pineapple for Wheeler,” Steve says, handing over Mike's order, then plops down on the couch, right next to where Eddie is sitting cross-legged on the carpet. “And these are for you.” 

Eddie blinks at the box that's shoved in his direction. Steve wiggles it, smile bright and eager. 

“Pizza knots with pepperoni,” he singsongs. Like he thinks it's charming. Like offering a guy greasy fast food in a soggy cardboard box and making bad sex puns is high-level seduction. 

The problem is it's working. 

“Keep your knots to yourself, Harrington,” he drawls, just for the heck of it, because the last thing that dork needs is to think he’s some sort of modern-day Don Juan. “I didn't order anything.” 

Steve rolls his eyes but doesn't stop smiling. 

“I know,” he says, opening the box and grinning at the audible rumble of Eddie’s stomach. “But I also know they're your favorite. C'mon, they're on me. We can even share if-” 

“What the hell is going on with you two?” Dustin blurts, slamming his hands down on the sofa table and sending their figurines scattering. 

Steve measures him with an unimpressed look and takes a bite out of his first pizza knot. 

“What d’you mean?” 

Dustin groans. Tugs on his basecap. Throws his hands out in a dramatic, all-encompassing gesture. Next to him, Lucas dodges to the side, narrowly avoiding an elbow to the face.

“What do I- … This! All of this! Why are we holding Hellfire at your house? Why are you buying Eddie food? Why are you two suddenly joined at the hip when you were barely even acknowledging each other’s existence two weeks ago?”

Eddie trades a glance with Steve before he turns back to Dustin with blank stare. It’s hard, because the kid’s left eyebrow is twitching funnily and he needs to muster up all of his willpower to not burst out laughing.

“Okay? I don’t get it, Henderson.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees around half a mouthful of cheese. “You’ve been nagging me about what a great guy Eddie is for literal months, and now that we’re finally getting along, that’s also a problem?”

“I wanted you to be friends!” Dustin whines. “Not- … Not whatever it is you’ve been doing! Hell, the other day at the gas station, you bought him a pen!” 

“Because he always steals mine and I thought he might like it,” Steve shrugs. “It was shaped like a dragon and had those little sparkly stones for eyes.”

Eddie smiles at him. “It’s a very metal pen, thank you.”

“See?” Dustin blurts. “That’s exactly what I mean! Hell, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two were courting!”

Next to him, Mike rolls his eyes. “Oh, please, they can’t be courting. Eddie’s a beta.”

Dustin gives him an scathing look. “He dated your sister and she’s an alpha.”

“That was before she presented,” Mike retaliates. “They broke up after that.”

“Hey, shitheads,” Steve says, pointing his pizza knot at them. “I didn’t break up with Nancy because she presented as an alpha. And you don’t gossip about other people’s love life. Least of all while they’re in the same room.”

Dustin looks like he’s about to argue, but Steve draws himself up to his full height and crosses his arms. The warning rumble that bubbles from his throat is so low it’s barely even there, but it still has the desired effect. The kids deflate and avert their eyes. Which is just as well, because if they kept looking, they’d probably see how Eddie has gone suspiciously red in the face and has started squirming in his spot. 

“Jeez, okay,” Dustin mumbles. “Sorry, I guess.” 

“It’s okay,” Steve says. “Now go back to your nerd game, I’d like you to go home at some point.” 

*

Mrs. Henderson swings by on her way back from work to pick up the brood, so Steve takes the empty glasses and pizza cartons to the kitchen while Eddie clears away the mess in the living room. He’s just assembled his notes on the campaign into something that halfway resembles a neat stack when a pair of arms wraps around his waist and pulls him back into a soft, warm body. Steve noses at the scent gland on his neck, even though there’s not much to smell now that Eddie is back on his repressants. Eddie still sighs and tilts his head to give him better access.

“Those little gremlins are too curious for their own good,” Steve mutters. Since his mouth is all but welded to Eddie’s neck, his voice comes out slightly muffled. It sends a pleasant shiver down Eddie’s spine and makes a familiar warmth stir in his belly.

“Tell me about it,” Eddie says, hands finding Steve’s and entangling their fingers. In the kitchen, some cheesy love song is blaring from the radio. Steve starts swaying the both of them to the melody and Eddie lets him. “You might wanna try and keep the sexy, macho, alpha act to a minimum though, if you don’t want me to pop a boner in front of our little sheepies. That, and the courting gifts.” 

“I’ve been so subtle about it,” Steve grouses, spinning him around and out before wrapping him back into his arms. “Goddamn pizza knots and pens. You deserve much better gifts. You deserve to be taken on proper dates.” 

“Hey now!” Eddie hits his chest. “Don’t insult the pen. I meant what I said, I like it a lot.”

Steve pouts, but his scent goes earthier and more intense, as always when he’s pleased. 

“Maybe we should just tell them,” Eddie mumbles into Steve's chest as they keep moving to the music. “They're two steps away from figuring it out, anyhow.” 

Steve gently pushes him away, so that he can measure him with a quizzical look. The pine needle note in his scent has gone sharper. More protective. Eddie realizes he's getting better and better at telling his emotions from these subtle shifts, even with his senses dulled by the meds.

“Would you be okay with that? You said you didn't want anyone to know.” 

Eddie shrugs. “They're a bunch of loud-mouthed little goblins, but they're good kids at heart. I feel like they'd handle it okay. And I'll probably need to come out about it at some point, if we want to continue this.” 

Steve frowns, unconvinced, folding him up in his arms and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. 

“When you're ready. When you're absolutely sure you wanna do this. Not a day earlier, okay?” 

A part of Eddie thinks he'll never be ready, but he knows that it's the scared and cowardly part that also thought he'd never open up to Steve. Another, more stubborn and possessive part of him wants to climb out on the roof and proclaim their courtship for all of this goddamn town to hear. Tell everyone that Steve is his just as much as he is Steve’s. 

What he does, in the end, is melt into Steve's embrace and kiss the junction of his neck and shoulder, grinning at the sharp intake of breath and distinct spike of arousal in his scent. 

“Okay,” he agrees. He'll be ready one day, and they'll figure out their way when the time comes. “But for now … take me upstairs?” 

More Steddie Bingo

[therapyplacebo]

𝙿𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚋 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎 🍎

Word count: 900

Pairing: Caleb x f!reader

Warnings: None (except some brief making out)

I keep thinking about how desperate and needy Caleb would be after not seeing you for a few weeks—both too busy with work to see each other outside occasional phone calls late at night.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡⋆

It’s not his fault, really. You’ve just simply always had that effect on him—a rush of dopamine that floods his system with an incomparable warmth, setting his entire being ablaze.

Caleb definitely struggles to keep his composure—he does his usual hand flex to try and vainly rein it in. It’s a pathetic attempt at keeping his hands to himself when he sees you impatiently waiting for him near the FarSpace Fleet headquarters. He flashes you a crooked smile in the hopes that the familiarity of it hides the hunger that visibly plagues him. It’s a maddening itch that worsens the closer he gets as the pestering voices inside his head become impossible to drown out.

The two of you walk home in the bustling streets of Skyhaven. He tries his hardest to pay attention to whatever it is you're telling him on the way home. Something about a charity event at work, or was it a new movie that came out? Poor Caleb is way too distracted by the sight of you and the way his fingers innocently brush against yours as you walk inside the elevator.

The addicting rush to have you nearby after so long is dizzying. Pure sheer elation that he gets from your soft skin under his palm as he grabs your hand—pretending to inspect the delicate silvery bracelet that's wrapped around your wrist.

That’s definitely new. Definitely not from him. He frowns at the sight—jealousy creeping its way up his chest and seizing him by the throat.

"Caleb, are you alright? You haven't said a word."

The concern in your voice snaps him out of the downward spiral. Caleb takes a shaky breath, chuckling softly while shaking his head with an embarrassed smile. He senses your frown without even needing to look at your face—it's a second nature he developed years ago.

His eyes are still glued to where his fingers are clasped around your wrist. They painstakingly drag their way up your arm to finally land on your face, where the concerned yet loving look you give him shatters the semblance of innocence he painted himself with as a facade.

Fuck

His body moves of its own volition. The surprised look on his face mirrors yours when your back suddenly hits the wall behind you with a loud thud. Caleb's breathing stutters—his eyes roam over your face. His brows are drawn up as if in pain, and he settles his hand at the base of your neck, the weight of it reminding you of his strength. The distance between the two of you is so small that Caleb can practically taste your skin. The soft scent of your shampoo makes him lightheaded, and the warmth of your skin as he cups your cheek makes him salivate.

He's so, so close. His lips imperceptibly brush against yours, but he can't bring himself to make the final move—too torn to make yet another selfish decision he'll hate himself for afterwards.

Caleb hears you gulp. He can feel the tension that builds up in your gaze, how the anticipation settles in the air like a thick fog that clouds his judgment.

He deflates, stumbling backward as he pushes himself up from the wall, away from the addicting feeling of your body against his. He keeps his eyes on the ground, glued to his shoes as he struggles to regain his breathing, to distract himself from the urge to taste your lips. The whirring of the elevator sounds eerily similar to the buzzing inside his head from the adrenaline rush. His heart feels like it’s about to leap out of his throat—he can taste the acidic coppery taste of blood in his mouth.

He hears you scoff—a dejected laugh followed by a sigh.

Caleb forces himself to look at you through the burning shame on his face. Still bearing a torn expression—one he usually hides from you.

Your vexed expression leaves no room for misinterpretation, and it feeds the growing delusions inside him. "You're such a coward."

He blinks, momentarily stunned by the familiar words as he stares at you dumbfounded. Time stands still, and yet the elevator doors open.

Neither of you move for what feels like a lifetime, but the frayed thread finally snaps. Caleb slams his hand backward on the control panel, hitting several buttons. The doors close once more, and he surges forward, pushed by the need to prove you wrong, the need to show you that his self-righteousness does not extend as far as you think it does.

Your head hits the wall from the sheer force of the impact as Caleb claims your lips—teeth clashing as he coaxes your mouth open for him, swallowing the surprised moan you make. The kiss is hungry, desperate, and angry. His hands are everywhere: your hips, your waist, your neck. He can't seem to get enough—maddened by his frustrations and pent-up worry from not seeing you for weeks, years.

He wants you all to himself, but most of all, he hates the way being away from you makes him feel like a background character in the life he used to be an integral part of.

Maybe all you need is a good reminder.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[bomberqueen17]

how it's going

yah well so. my winter of not being at the farm and instead having medical appointments is going about how you'd think, which is to say that i've run out of steam on making the medical appointments but do still have several to take care of.

i did manage to get my primary care physician to accept that i had an ADHD diagnosis (which last year she refused to help me get, but now that i have it, she's like ok cool great here's a referral for therapy). She's now prescribed me meds, and since I already tried the three major stimulant meds plus had prior (bad) experience with the one antidepressant they use, she prescribed me some weird anti-narcolepsy med that sometimes gets used. and i was supposed to start that two days ago but rite aid is still trying to get insurance approval. take a wild guess what kind of insurance i have!!

yeah united health isn't going to approve that one. so my avenues here might already be closed. but at least someone tried?

I have done a bit of sewing and a bit of exercise biking and a lot of snow shoveling (what a year). I got a mammogram and they called me right away and were like omg you gotta come back there was something weird there, and so i went back and they were like omg we gotta squash you SO flat to look at this, and i was like ow ow ow okay okay uncle and they were like yah we gotta ultrasound you this isn't good and i was like. if they have to cut my boobs off can i get robot ones???? (insert every emoji here in succession, the nine or whatever stages of grief is not enough to cover this)

and the ultrasound tech was like SO nice? and so gentle? and by then i'd been lotionless so long (you can't have lotion on your boobs before a mammogram! my dudes it is january i am a crocodile) that the water-based gel kind of stung? but it was okay and she made me wait and went and looked at the results with a doctor and came and took me aside and was like "Great news! It's nothing" and sent me home. which was like. so many ups and downs! what a wild ride! love this ending for me, this is actually the best possible ending ever.

Spent the entire next day in a vet waiting room because Chita had been peeing all over the basement. Verdict: not a UTI. But, she's got to start special kidney food. Have now spent an entire week trying to get the vet to give us the prescription we need in order to buy the stuff, somehow can't get this done, really don't know what the hell is happening.

So anyway now we just have puppy pads down in various corners of the basement, because Chita has Opinions about litterboxes that cannot be solved by simply having an array (five) of immaculate (Cat Attract(TM) litter-containing) boxes, because you see, she needs to pee NEXT TO a litter box according to some strange schedule, AS WELL AS in only SOME of them, and poo in others... Well at least it's all in the basement and she has not done this in any of the rooms where we actually live. But like. Gross dude.

In June Chita will be legally old enough to vote, though cats are not eligible to register alas, so I suppose we can just let her do what she wants since she probably knows best at this point.

Otherwise the only notable thing happening is the writing, at which i am making tremendous progress, so that's good. Therapist has been attempting to get me to form priorities and make to-do lists which is hilarious and I don't know how to convey to her that I am a feral goblin and Goals are not a thing I've ever historically managed to have, and I don't think she understands about novel-writing in particular (she was like oh you're making getting published a goal! and i'm like you don't understand how this industry works, this is a self-pub at best kind of economy and i will not be making money from this). But I am trying very hard to get a draft of this done as soon as I possibly can because I simply won't have time over the spring/summer/fall season, but I *might* have time to edit.

I've got eight chapters in the beta doc by now and having people read it and leave comments is absolutely working to keep me focused on it. <3 I can't convey enough how much that means. It is incredibly helpful. I never did make a discord or any way to discuss that so it's all gotta be in the comments but that is working for me for now. I have most of the plot hammered out and just have to like. Glue it together. So we shall see.

Except I keep letting myself get distracted doing backstory stuff so yesterday I wrote 2,999 words of literally just porn that is not in any way going to go into this novel, and i felt kind of bad about that but then I also wrote 3,914 words of action plot and cyborg dolphins (and mostly it is a guy passed over for a promotion trying to work around the incompetent they made into his manager, so like, relatable content but also with dolphins who can talk, so like, what's not to love) so I felt less bad about that.

I will include a snippet because I can.

A moment later, Mahina’s synthetic voice said “We did not find your convoy but other pod says ships that way.”  Tom nodded. “Yeah, I thought it might be too far,” he said.  “You know our range?” Mahina asked. Her vocabulary was very practical, but then, this was a major shipping lane. From the slightly greater height of the launch, he could see her better; she was large, an older female. The augmented dolphins lived longer, but she wouldn’t be old enough to remember before the treaties, he thought.  “I think so,” Tom said. “Mahina not so good at human number reckoning,” she said. “But if Ted know a pod’s range Mahina no need to try.” “Ted?” Tom said, startled into a laugh. “Is human name,” Mahina said. “It is,” Tom agreed. “Yes, I can be Ted.” “Ted,” Mahina said, with a decided affirmative whistle. The only way to add words to the brainwave-readers was for a fairly skilled human technician to do so, and one of them must at some point have been named Ted.

[ruruumin]

15 - underlying meaning

today was a warm and sunny day. the clouds were out of sight and the sun was beating down on your skin. it felt a little too perfect. you sat on the outside tables in front of magnolia, sipping on your drink while you and collei waited for nilou and aether to return with snacks. she was wearing a pretty, white lace sundress and birch-wood cardigan over it. cute and simple, the best way to describe collei and her radiant smile. 

she raises her hand towards you, speaking to you through sign language. 'has been a long time. you and aether have been busy.'

you wave her off with your hand, a sigh coming out of your throat. “yeah, i’m sorry about that. i’ve just been caught up with so much stuff that i’ve been losing track of time. i’ve been showing up to class later than i’d like, and on some days i just end up skipping entirely.”

she gives you a reassuring smile. 'i’m not disappointed. last week i've been finishing my lab. but that sounds bad. wanna talk?'

you stare down at your drink, pondering if its worth telling collei the truth. how would she react to your interaction with alhaitham? hey my ex-boyfriend who broke up with me over text, suddenly shows up at the same cafe as aether's date. and he proposed that we work together so they can get together. god, when you say it like that, it's awful.

you lock your jaw. she’s never met him, only heard about him in passing through aether and nilou. maybe she’d give you an unbiased point of view. you know aether has a strong disliking for the silver-haired man. nilou had classes with him before, thought he was just quiet, until she heard about what he did to you. collei could give you the most unbiased opinion out of everyone.

and despite this rationality, you aren’t sure. you don’t want to worry the rest of your friends. you don’t want to bring up your love life anymore than you did in the past. you still remember the night aether called you, the way your voice cracked and trembled as you sobbed uncontrollably, and how nilou and collei stood on the sidelines, unsure of what to do. they gave you the space you needed. you just don’t know if you want to go through that heartache again. let alone put your friends through it.

your thoughts were cut short when nilou approaches the table, smiling and waving to collei. “when is the last time we met up like this?” she asks, crunching on the crisp exterior of her taiyaki. the custard filling was warm and sweet. and she was thankful to have had the day off today because she couldn’t take eating another dessert filled with extra sugary strawberry fillings. 

both of them sat down at the table and you were quick to grab your snack. aether sat beside you while collei and nilou stayed close. 

“it must be tough having to help a certain someone with his suspiciously good love life.” her eyes trailed over to aether, who was absentmindedly sipping from his straw. he was pretending to daydream in a middle of a conversation.

“are you talking to me?” he replies, jokingly rubbing the inside of his ear with his pinky. “wow isn’t this matcha the best thing ever? so good, i can’t believe i didn’t try this sooner, (name) you should totally order this instead of your jasmine milk tea 75% sugar and less ice.”

“okay, you did not have to say my entire order out loud,” you roll your eyes. your reply causes him to pinch your thigh, a yelp coming out of your mouth before you slap his hand. 

“you’re such an ass!”

collei smiles, 'aether needs help, no? two months ago, he almost dated ayaka. he's been through many relationships. what makes kaveh so different?'

aether places his head down on the cool, glass table, mumbling, “well hes the only person i didnt have to help or save, so it just feels different having someone like you without you doing shit for them… or whatever.” 

“she can’t read your lips if you put your head down,” you say, pinching his ear, “i can’t quite hear you, want to speak up big boy?”

he straightens out his back, looking at you with a twitch in his eye, he speaks slower so collei could pick up on his words. “he’s the only person i didn’t help. so it feels different having someone care about you without them being in debt to you. it’s just… different.”

“besides, we should be questioning you instead. you should be the embarrassed one. if i saw my ex out in the wild i would have punched him square in the face. don’t tell me you got too swept up in his pretty looks to say anything rude?”

“oh yeah? how come you didn’t do it when you saw scaramouche? that guy treated you like shit when you first met and then he cozied up to you on my couch! my couch!”

“well he’s a changed man, if anything, i fixed him!”

“i don’t think having sex on my couch counts as therapy!”

“we did not have sex, only heavy make outs. and look whos talking, remember when you were in the backseat of my car with albedo?” 

nilou lets out a long, exhausted sigh. she forgot that everytime they go out together, she should expect a bit of bickering between you and aether. and while it may annoy or confuse other people outside of your group, she and collei know how charming it can be sometimes. she hasn’t seen a pair so close before. you and aether have some sort of freakish telepathic connection that lets you know what’s wrong with each other (if only this extended to arguments, the world would be at peace).

“don’t think i didn’t hear those face-sucking noises of yours! shame! shame on you!”

you gasp, “how dare you slutshame me!” 

“fuck you i hope when you order your jasmine milk tea 75% sugar with less ice they give you more ice and more sugar!” 

“now that’s going too far!”

collei taps on the glass table with her nail, knocking you and aether out of your petty banter. 'stop fighting, especially not in public. kaveh might see!' aether looked back at you before letting out a huff. you both roll your eyes while murmuring apologies under your throats, knowing well on the car ride back it’ll continue. the effort was enough to make collei clap in glee though.

so what happened between kaveh and aether? it sounds like it went well but i need the inside scoop.

“nothing really, i don’t think you missed much collei,” returning back to the topic at hand, you stir your drink with a straw. “they had their first ‘date’ at nilou’s cafe. they probably talked about how boring aether’s outfit was because he wasn’t wearing that yellow sweater vest. things were going well until…” 

nilou nudges your elbow, “he showed up.”

'he? you mean...' collei looks up at you with concern laced in her eyes, 'he did what?'

“more like said,” aether interrupts. “did he apologize about what he did to you last year? or should i be the one to beat his ass for you?”

'no fighting!' collei waves.

“look, he didn’t say anything, really.” you force a smile. “we just talked about school. caught up a little bit and that was it. besides, as much as i want him to apologize to me, i know that won’t happen. he’s not that type of person.”

“i don’t know (name)...” nilou presses her lips in a thin line.

collei pats your hand, giving you the same warm look she always had in her eyes. 'everything will be okay. we are here, if you need. don't worry.'

aether, on the other hand, doesn’t seem quite as convinced. his eyes were laser focused on the crinkling of your nose and the distant expression you had. he’s known you long enough to tell that the absent stirring was a sign there was something more. he doesn’t want to put you on the spot with collei and nilou, but he can’t help it. he feels as if there is something on between you and alhaitham that he doesn’t know about.

and the thought makes his stomach drop. 

you continue with the conversation as normal, laughing about how aether needs your help out of everyone for love. you talk about how disappointed you were not being able to see him dress up more. nilou is still chewing on the tail of her taiyaki while collei nods to your story.

aether is biting the inside of his cheek, listening as a good friend would. he needs to stay focus on the conversation. he shouldn’t think too hard about it. if you said it was just school, then it should be left like that. there is nothing going on between you and alhaitham.

and if there was… what would he do?

₊˚ ♡ masterlist | previous + next.

synopsis; when your friend aether calls for help in his budding crush on his senior kaveh, you're forced to confront your ex-boyfriend by means of playing cupid.

⤷ notes; hopefully the asl portion makes sense. there are specific words that are omitted and the structure of words is different (time + topic + comment).

⤷ taglist [pm to be added, 30/50]

@aixaingela @cherrybb-ily @lupicalbestwolf @arraxthatsonjah @state-of-grac3

@knighttimes @toastedfailure @tired-jaz @whipped-for-fictionals @noellesfactory

@alhaiko @sundays-prince @angel-of-requiem @jaguarthecat @vitanye

@tiramizuloz @luvvhaerin @gabirii @blvdmrcnry jayzioxx

@0lives10 @tamikahoshiko @cr4yolaas @milkuu333 @x-hihihi-x

@kangyeonie @hydration-is-for-weenies @sorcerersseestars @jiminscarmex @backgroundcharactera

[crowsofdarkness]

Time: Chapter Seven

-gif not mine. credit to owner.-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Content Warnings: fluff, angst, language, violence, and mentions of death.

Summary: Your relationship with Bucky could withstand anything, even time itself.

Authors Note: This series will have twenty one chapters, some of which will be short and quick, and takes place throughout the forties. I did my best to line up the days along with Captain America: The First Avenger. Tags are open if anyone is interested!

Tags: @that-blonde-girl @bookofriverr @starfly-nicole @ell0ra-br3kk3r @baw1066

Time Masterlist

March 4, 1942. 3:00 pm.

The bottom of my skirt blew in the wind as I rushed down the sidewalk, passing people by with a quick apology. My shift at the diner lasted longer than I would have liked and I was supposed to meet Steve at the theater twenty minutes ago. 

“Sorry!” I yelled while pushing through a young couple. 

Steve and I had planned on hanging out, the two of us, because even though he hadn't said anything I knew it was bothering him that Bucky and I hadn't seen him in awhile. I worried that he thought I had returned to my promise because I was late. 

Bucky was more than okay with Steve and me hanging out without him. We were friends before Bucky came into the picture, which is why he never got upset with us hanging out. There was also something Bucky had to do today, but he wouldn’t tell me what. 

The last few weeks he had been acting strange and I could tell he was hiding something from me. He wouldn’t allow me to be in his bedroom alone, afraid that I would find whatever he was keeping in there. 

Immediately my mind thought of a beautiful diamond that he could be hiding but I brushed away those thoughts. We had been dating for less than a year. There was no way he would propose. 

Right? 

“Y/N!” 

My feet came to a sudden halt when I saw the small man leaning against the brick of the building behind him. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I came straight from work,” I motioned to my work uniform. 

Steve waved me off. “It’s alright, the movie hasn’t even started yet.” 

Linking our arms together, I let Steve lead us into the theater while mentioning that he had already bought the tickets for us. It was a trash movie that we knew not many people would be here to see but that was the kind of movie we loved. Ones that we can laugh at and talk about days later. 

“Have you heard from Buck?” Steve asked. 

We were waiting in line for popcorn and I shook my head. “He said he was going to stop by the diner for lunch but he never showed up.” 

Steve padded my arm. “Don’t look too much into it/, Y/N. Buck’s not that kind of guy.” 

He knew that my mind was racing with thoughts of Bucky with other women. 

“I know but he’s been so distant lately.” 

“Maybe after the movie we’ll swing by his place and see what’s up with him,” Steve suggested with a shrug. 

I nodded and after we ordered our snacks, we continued to walk arm in arm towards the dark theater. We both were surprised that it was somewhat packed but we were able to find a spot in the middle row. 

Everything passed by great while waiting for the show to start but when a man a few rows in front of us started yelling and throwing things at the screen, I knew that the peace had vanished. There was a clip playing about the current war going on overseas and I could feel Steve tense up next to me. 

He sighed before leaning forward towards the guy. “Hey, you want to show some respect.” 

The guy ignored Steve so I gently patted his knee, telling him to let it go. 

“It’s not worth it, Steve.” 

The man wasn’t what had pissed Steve off, it was the fact that no matter how many times he tried to enlist, the government continued to deny Steve. Bucky and I both knew that it was slowly eating away at Steve that he wasn’t able to enlist. My mind was swirling with worry that Bucky would get his orders to fight. I hadn’t stopped to think of how Steve had been feeling with being told no over and over again. 

The man in front of us continued to hurl words, loudly, towards the screen. Steve couldn’t take it any longer, anger radiated off of him. 

“Hey, you want to shut up!” He yelled. 

My body tensed when I saw the man in front of us, twice the size of Steve, stand up and look directly at us. Worried eyes bounced from Steve to the man a few times and before I could part my lips, they were making their way out of the theater. My hushed protests fell on Steve’s deaf ears. 

“One of these days, that poor boy is going to get himself killed,” I sighed while gathering my things and hurriedly followed him. 

His signature catchphrase of whenever he fought bullies, ‘I can do this all day’ bounced around in my mind. 

By the time I reached outside, the chilly air causing my skin to rise, I knew I was too late in stopping the fight. The sounds of flesh on flesh, metal cans falling to the hard pavement lead me to the alley behind the theater. 

The sight in front of me caused my jaw to drop, mouth catching whatever bugs were flying around. Steve was dusting himself off while the man from the theater lay on the ground, blood pooling from his nose. That wasn’t what made my feet come to a sudden halt; it was the man dressed in the army uniform. 

“Bucky?” 

He turned on his heels and with his bright eyed smile, he reached for my hand. “Where have ya been, doll?” 

I ignored his question and motioned to the uniform. “Did you get your orders?” 

Bucky heard the shakiness in my voice so he hesitantly nodded. “The 107th. Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for London first thing tomorrow.”

I nearly choked on my own saliva at his announcement. 

“Tomorrow?!” 

My echo jumped off the concrete walls of the alley. 

Buky nodded with a soft sigh. “I know, sweetheart. I thought we would have more time but I spent the last few days getting everything in order with my ma so we could have my last night together; with Steve.” 

I couldn’t help but giggle in my sad state at the thought of once again, Steve third wheeling our dates. 

“Don’t feel like you have to include me,” Steve interjerked which caused Bucky to shake his head. 

“I want to spend my last night in New York with my favorite people,” He looked between Steve and I. “You two need to get cleaned up.” 

“Where are we going?” I questioned. 

Bucky handed me a newspaper that read World Exposition of Tomorrow. He was one of the biggest science nerds we knew so it didn't surprise me that this is what he wanted to spend his last night doing. 

No matter how bad my heart was hurting, not knowing how long he would be gone for or even if he would return, I plastered my best fake smile and nodded. 

“Pick me up at my apartment around six?” 

Bucky twirled me into his arms, his soft lips finding their home against my own. The kiss was slow and passionate but quick when Steve sighed with uncomfortableness. 

“Wear your best dancing shoes, doll.” 

I smirked before molding into his body once more, pressing our lips together again. “Always do, Buck.”  

[pascaloverx]

MESSY

Author's Note: The character Michael does not belong to me, but to the film Hoard (2023). There won't be a summary at this time because I'm unsure if the fanfic will continue. So, if you enjoy this preview, please comment and like. Engage! Thank you for your attention.

PREVIEW

There is a growing desperation within you. Just a few weeks ago, you would never have imagined yourself in this position, but you have run out of options. Your father took a new wife mere months after your mother’s passing, and she had no interest in playing the role of a stepmother. So, he cast you out, leaving you with nowhere to go. "It’s my house," were the last words you heard before being thrown onto the street as if you meant nothing.

Now, you are about to knock on the door of a man named Michael, who is looking for a roommate. He could very well be a lunatic, living in a house that, from what you can tell, is surrounded by garbage and rats. That is not an exaggeration—there is a massive mouse scurrying into the alley beside the house, carrying something in its mouth. But even that won’t stop you from taking what little savings you have and paying to live here.

"Hello?" The man you assume to be Michael opens the door just as you knock, catching you off guard, and you nearly stumble backward. Fortunately, he notices and grabs your hand to steady you. He’s sweaty, and you almost slip from his grip.

"Oh my God, is that a puddle of water?" you ask, realizing your body has lightly brushed against something wet in front of his house.

"Hate to break it to you, but we haven’t had any rain, so it’s probably…" he says casually, implying that whatever you touched wasn’t water, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Great. Now I need a shower," you mutter, straightening up and resisting the urge to strip off your clothes right then and there.

"Did you come here just to ask for a shower?" he asks, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it in front of you. Great. A smoker.

"Who in their right mind would show up at a stranger’s house in the middle of the afternoon just to ask for a shower?" you ask, still debating whether this is worth it. Every instinct is telling you to turn around and leave, but then reality hits—you can’t afford to be picky. The rent is cheap, and, more importantly, you have nowhere else to go.

"I’m actually here about the roommate ad." Michael tilts his head slightly, dragging his gaze over you as if trying to read your entire life story.

"You don’t seem like the kind of person who’d want to live in a place like this—no offense," he says, exhaling smoke through his nose. You hold back the urge to roll your eyes, biting down your irritation.

"When you have no other choice, you can live anywhere. The important thing here is that you have something I need, and I have money to pay for it," you say, stepping closer despite the heavy scent of smoke clinging to him. Michael takes another drag of his cigarette before smirking.

"The way you’re saying that makes it sound like you’re offering me money for something else," he muses, amusement flickering in his eyes. He steps toward you, finishing his cigarette and flicking it to the ground, crushing it under his boot. You scoff, letting out a dry laugh. His self-confidence is astonishing.

"And what exactly do you think I’d be paying you for, other than a place to live?" you counter, keeping your expression unreadable. His smirk deepens. "Come upstairs, and I’ll show you."

The way his brown eyes stay locked on you sends a wave of heat through your body—not from attraction, but from the sheer audacity of his words. He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. That’s it.

"I knew this was a mistake," you mutter, grabbing your suitcase and turning to leave. You don't even make it two steps before strong arms lift you off the ground, catching you completely off guard.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" you shout, squirming in his hold, but he doesn’t let go. He’s stronger than he looks, his grip firm yet effortless.

"There are plenty of things wrong with me. It’s my job to keep them hidden from you, and yours to find them out on your own. Now stop squirming—I’ll let you go in a second," he mutters, his voice strained as he maneuvers you into the house with unsettling ease.

You barely have time to process what just happened before your eyes sweep over the interior. A narrow staircase leads to the upper floor, while to the side, the living room sprawls in cluttered disarray. At the back of the house, you spot the kitchen. The air carries a faint, unpleasant odor, and you do your best not to react too strongly as you take in the mess. Michael walks in behind you, dragging your suitcase inside before straightening up.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot. Name’s Michael. I really do need someone to help with the expenses, so it’d be an honor to have you here. There are two bedrooms upstairs, along with the bathroom, which we’ll have to share. Kitchen’s straight ahead. Turn to the side, and you’ll find the living room. Rent’s due at the beginning of every month, and while I’ll try to be the best roommate I can, don’t expect me to change who I am," he says, extending a hand as if sealing an agreement. You hesitate, every part of you still screaming to leave, but the reality of your situation weighs heavier. You have nowhere else to go.

"Fine. I’ll stay. I’ll pay the rent on time, but you should know that I won’t change either. And I refuse to live in a dump," you say, watching as he pulls out yet another cigarette and lights it right in front of you.

Michael smirks, tucking the cigarette between his lips. "Do whatever you want, princess. Cleaning supplies should be around here somewhere. Officially, mi casa es su casa," he says, blowing out smoke as he steps closer, slow and deliberate. You stand your ground, refusing to be intimidated.

"I have somewhere to be, but when I get back, we can talk more. There’s a spare key on the hook behind the door. Since you’re so keen on cleanliness, I’d suggest you start with that shower," he adds with a smirk before giving you a wink and disappearing out the door, leaving you alone in the middle of the mess.

[garricks4thwingqueen]

Be My Valentine Liam Mairi X Gamlyn Reader

Synopsis: Y/N Gamlyn is very much the opposite of her twin brother. Opposite being grumpy and introverted where her brother is fun loving and a prankster. There is one day above all others that Y/N hates the most. To make matters worse she has never had a relationship also very much unlike her brother. She hadn’t even been interested in anyone until her first year at Basgiath, and oddly enough he wasn’t usually the type she thought she’d find herself going after. Will Y/N’s first year at Basgiath change how she feels about Valentine's day? *Takes place during second squads first year at Basgiath* 

Word Count: 1648 

Trigger Warnings: Middle swearing 

 Y/N POV

   It was the week before Valentine's day and Y/N couldn’t be more miserable as she joined her squad in the dining hall for breakfast. This isn’t a good look on you. Y/N’s dragon Cairdeas chimed into her head. Good maybe I’ll look extra attractive. Y/N chidded back at her dragon and slammed the invisible wall up so maybe she could enjoy breakfast in peace. 

   “Y/N?” You heard your brother trying to get your attention. “What?” you answered while taking a bite of your breakfast sandwich. “Valentine's day plans?” your brother said with a smirk. “Ugh you guys are seriously talking about that day already?” “It’s next week.” Liam chimed in from across the table. “I’m very much freaking aware that it’s next week.” “I’m taking it you're not a fan?” Liam said with a sly smirk. 

   “Oh absolutely not. One of her ex’s broke up with her on Valentine's day like three years ago.” Ridoc had answered for you. “Oh that’s really shitty. I’m sorry.” Liam said with a soft smile. Ugh you hated that his sunshineness was effective and his muscles didn’t help either. “It’s ok.” you shrugged; “I just don’t usually look forward to the holiday and usually keep to myself after having an experience like that. I get why he did it, he was two years older then me and going into the infantry quadrant that summer but to do it on Valentines day when you expected a nice date instead-”  

  “Who is it? Want me to beat his ass for you?” Rhi asked who had quickly become your best friend this year. You shook your head; “No it’s fine. I’m well over it but it just comes back around to sting the feels each year you know?” “Completely get it. We could just do a girls night and play cards in one of our dorms?” Rhi suggested. “Actually yeah that sounds perfect,Rhi. See you guys in battle brief.” You said taking your tray and depositing it where it belonged before heading to class. 

                                                        Liam POV 

  “Ridoc.” I said hanging back after the rest of the squad left shortly after Y/N. “Yeah Li Bear?” “Dude how many times have I asked you not to call me that?” “Sorry- sorry.” Ridoc said, gripping his chest in laughter. “You were saying?” He said, trying to sound more serious as I stopped us in  the hallway just before the auditorium where the battle brief was held. “I like your sister.” I said flat out not sure how else to say it. 

  “Yeah no shit, sunshine.” “Excuse me?” “I mean it’s kinda obvious dude but seriously good luck. Y/N’s reserved she hasn’t had the best relationship luck.” “She also hates Valentine's day, correct?” “Correct.” He responded. “What does she like?” “Small gestures. Whatever you do, do not go overbroad or you can kiss my sister goodbye before you even kiss her hello.”   

   Later that night I started to work on a carving of Cairdeas as well as a small heart. Valentine's day made Y/N miserable and that wasn’t going to settle well with Liam this year. 

                                       *A week later; Valentine’s day* 

  I gave my two carvings another once over and made sure that they were perfect. I made sure to get up early that morning so I could leave surprise number one under Y/N’s door which was the next one down from mine. Which was a note that  read: 

     I know today isn’t your favorite but meet me at the spot where I picked you up after you fell and come have breakfast with me. -L.M. 

  After sliding the note under the door I went to freshen up and then went to the dinning hall and grabbed the pastries, fruit and juice that were out for this morning and made my way to the fountain in the courtyard.  

                                                     Y/N POV 

  You woke up around 5:45 that morning and did your usual routine. As you went to leave your room you noticed the note that was slipped under the door during the night.  You smiled as you read  the note to yourself. You knew the place that Liam was talking about; during a rainy day in August when you had started to run back inside you had slipped and fell on the old wet cobblestone by the fountain in the courtyard. 

  You hated this day but something inside of you loved the fact that your friend was trying to make an effort to make the day special for you. You had grown to like Liam during your time at Basgiath probably more than you should. You had been hurt more then once in the past and couldn’t stand the thought of being hurt again especially by someone that you considered a dear friend. But Liam wouldn’t be that type right?  

   You had reached the fountain and smiled at the breakfast picnic spread before you. Stretching your arm up you tapped on Liam’s shoulder; “Good morning.” You said with a soft smile. “Morning.” He said with a sheepy smile. “I hope this isn’t too much your brother said- and I know it’s winter but.” You cut him off by placing your finger over his lips and shook your head with a smile on your face. “It’s perfect and I don’t care that it's winter and you honestly didn’t have to do anything at all Liam.” He shook his head in response and stepped closer to you, closing the small space between the both of you and placing his hands on your hips. “I wanted to do something special for you, I wanted to make this day-” 

   You smiled and cut him off again by standing on your tip toes and placing your lips against his. It didn’t take either of you long before you both melted into each other's touch. You didn’t know what you had expected from this day when you woke up, but you knew it wasn’t this. However in this very moment being with Liam was all that you wanted to know. 

   “Li.” You breathed against his lips after you both broke for air. “Yeah?” He answered softly with a small smile that made you weak at the knees. You giggled as it started to snow heavily around the both of you. “You're so beautiful you know that right Y/N Gamlyn.” “I- no one has ever-.” “What no one has ever called you that before?” He asked cupping your cheek. You shook your head in response; “Well then they are completely idiots but I’m glad I get the honor to be the first one to call you beautiful Y/N Gamlyn.” 

  You had felt tears start to stream down your cheek. “Hey, hey what's wrong?” he asked softly, wiping the tears away from your cheek. “Nothing.” You breathe softly. “Then why the tears my love?” “I just didn’t expect to ever feel this way, especially not on Valentine’s day.” “A good way?” Liam asked softly as his hands caressed your hips. “Loved and cared for. Yeah a very good way.” You said as you found your lips connecting once more and you felt Liam place something small and wooden into your hands.  

  You broke away from the kiss to look at the wooden figure of Cairdeas in your hands as well as a little heart. “Liam, this is incredibly beautiful and perfect. Thank you Li bear.” He chuckled softly which gods that was a sound you wanted to hear every morning and every day. “I’m glad you like it my love.” He said softly caressing the back of your neck. You shook your head, “I love it, it’s truly perfect Li.” 

  “Yeah?” He asked with a soft chuckle. “Yeah.” You answered softly, giggling more as the snow started to pick up. “So much for the picnic.” “It’s winter.” You said still giggling. “Yeah, Yeah Liam said, picking up the tray and kissing your forehead.  

  You intertwined your fingers with Liams in the hand that wasn't fiddling over your carving from Liam as you both made your way back to the dinning hall and joined your squad for breakfast. They all had huge ass smirks on their face that you half wanted to wipe off their faces but you knew deep down that they were just happy for you and Liam.  

  Your brother was the first one to get up from the table and wrapped you into a bone crushing hug. You gave up and returned the favor and hugged your twin back. “So you're not going to be miserable this Valentine’s day?” He asked. You smiled and looked over at Liam and answered your brother; “No I think for once I’m not going to be miserable on valentines day.”  “I’d like to take credit for my twin’s happiness but I guess that goes to Li Bear.” “Ridoc!” Liam chidded. 

   You couldn’t help but giggle as you sat down between your now boyfriend and your brother. “No Riddy, You can’t take the credit.” You said as you found yours and Liam’s fingers intertwined as your hands rested on the table. 

   “Rhi, Vi, rain check for tonight?” You asked as you now just wanted to spend the evening with your boyfriend. “Absolutely. You two have fun.” Rhi said. “But not too much fun.” Ridoc chimed in next to you as you elbowed him in the side. “Ouch! What was that for??” he groaned “Because I’m older and I could.” “5 minutes.” He grumbled. “Still older.” I teased. “Yeah, just don’t scare off my future brother-in-law yet.” Ridoc siad.

   “Ridoc!” “What?” He asked innocently. “Let’s just slow down and let Liam and I, be Liam and I yeah?” “Yeah. Just no funny business.” he said in response as Liam chuckled next to you and whispered, “all the funny business.” Into your ear as you giggled and buried your face into the crock of his neck.  

  You enjoyed listening to the banter of your squad and thought to yourself that maybe today wasn’t going to be so dreadful after all. 

[biowaredisasterbisexual]

SHARING SUNDAY - FEB. 9

It is time for our first ever Sharing Sunday, where you all tell me what you made and want shared from any BioWare fandom. This isn’t a rec list, or a review, it’s the pure joy of boosting folks in fandom because there’s something out there for everyone and promoting oneself can be hard.

Shout out to all the creators who put themselves and their work out there this week!

Art:

- A tender and soft Rookanis piece, inspired by the almost-kiss scene, by @fangbangerart/ @fangbangerghoul can be found on their art blog here.

Note: NSFW

Fanfiction:

- A Life After, a Davrook series, by @thatgaymerguyb, taking place after the game and following the two as they try to live the life they talked about. The series currently has four parts, with a fifth underway.

Note: Some portions of the series are NSFW and/or have AO3 archive warnings applied.

- Hamin Vhenan, a Bellarook flash fiction piece by @popcorn-milk, taking place during a quiet moment at the Lighthouse.

- From @hyperions-light, Language of Reverence. Rook/Teia/Viago/Lucanis, Explicit. From the author: “After Rook almost dies (again) trying to get Viago his crown, relations between their favorite Crows are somewhat strained. Obviously, the solution to this is to arrange a foursome.”

Note: NSFW

- From @heylavellan, Until Forever Falls Apart. From the author: “Are you also obsessed with whatever Mahariel and Tamlen have going on? Me too. Time to make Saliin Mahariel figure out he wasn't as over Tamlen as he thought with his new friends at his side.”

Note: Major character death, graphic violence AO3 archive warnings

- @drowsybowser brings Edge of Heaven, a Cullen x Dorian 80s AU. The sequel just posted its first chapter, as well.

Note: NSFW

- From @timeandmusic-x3, a Neverook fic titled Growing from the Ashes. From the author: “Tormented by her memories of Elgar'nan and shaken by the events of the past few weeks, Neve finds that she can't face sleeping alone after the final battle. Rook is there to support her - if only Neve can work up the courage to ask. One year later, Neve returns to Rook’s Minrathous apartment triumphant on the heels of solving a difficult case. They share a special evening together, but much is still left unsaid from a year ago. There are things Neve needs to tell Rook, and she struggles for the words. But when Rook finally breaks down from regret, she finds them.” There may be more coming in this world state from the author as well, so keep an eye out.

Note: Rated M with an archive warning for graphic depictions of violence

- Brought to you by @skullypettibone, Lucanis Is Not Smooth. From the author: “Lucanis wants to look good for Rook, and fortunately Davrin's here to help. Or: the story of what happened to Lucanis's Antivan fur."

- “Lucanis Dellamorte and the mortifying ordeal of processing an emotion and receiving a hug. A very Lucanis's interior world exploration piece of writing, immediately after Inner Demons,” can be found here by @corvus-frugilegus.