#this whole thread is embarrassing guys I’m

[graniteknight]

Guys I keep forgetting where Lance lives and it’s actually embarrassing..

[verstappen-cult]

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL | CL16

— 02. THE MEDDLING

PREV. PART | NEXT PART — [ SERIES MASTERLIST ]

summary: in which charles has an embarrassing crush on alex's childhood best friend and everyone meddles. content warnings: faceclaim is taylor hill but you can picture her as you’d like! some cursing and for the sake of the smau imola was not canceled. note: thank you sm for the love you showed the first part! once again if you see some mistakes please know that english is not my first language and i noticed them once everything was finished. if you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know! ♡

INSTAGRAM STORIES

MAY 14, 2023.

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM POST

📍 ROMA, ITALY

Liked by yourusername, lilymhe and 432,503 others

alex_albon Don’t believe anything they say, I won ⛳️

view all 3,799 comments

lilymhe i’m not gonna say anything. 🤐

user35 so it is true. they were with charles and Y/N user36 We don’t know that user37 someone working there confirmed it

charles_leclerc mate you fell like three times

user38 WE GOT THE CONFIRMATION user39 omg this makes it real user40 BUT WAS Y/N ACTUALLY THERE

user41 not his entire comment section filled with charles and Y/N fans 🙄🙄🙄

user42 PARENTS

yourusername shut up you know i won

user43 OH MY GOD OH MY GODDDD user44 i cant believe it i’m having a crisis over this user45 context pls user46 everyone’s saying they were in a double date and apparently this is the confirmation.

pierregasly thanks for (not) inviting me!!!

📍 ROMA, ITALY

Liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya and 756,223 others

yourusername i won. i have witnesses.

view all 2,498 comments

alex_albon keep saying that 🥱

yourusername SHUT UP

user47 not a single pic of charles and her together but we know they were together

user48 feeding us crumbs

user49 she looks so pretty

zendaya tom keeps saying we need to play golf when you’re back in london.

yourusername tell him i’m gonna kick his ass

landonorris you should play with people that actually knows how to play: ME

lilymhe SORRY? yourusername dw lils, i have your back

user50 i love how she’s befriending everyone

user51 thanks to alex user52 and your point is? user51 she’s using him for his fame user53 LOOOOOOL

pierregasly thanks for (not) inviting me!!!

user54 what’s more hilarious to me than this whole “double date” discourse are pierre comments on both alex and Y/N posts because they did not invite him.

Y/N & ALEX’S iMESSAGE

THURSDAY MAY 18, 2023 — PRESS CONFERENCE

charles is sitting next to lando and max, pierre next to him as alex stands in front of them. he’s aware they’re talking about what they’re expecting from this weekend, but he can’t seem to focus on what they are actually saying, only picking up pieces of the conversation. he’s too focused on his phone, the message thread he has with Y/N staring back at him. the last text he has from her is just a simple ‘cool’ after he was trying to play it cool.

“what you doing, charlie?” max asks, playfully poking him in the ribs. he immediately locks his phone, raising his head only to find that everyone is looking at him already.

“i know what he’s doing.” lando wiggles his eyebrows and charles wonders if he really needs his fingers to race. “you screwed up.”

charles knows he screwed up, and definitely doesn’t need lando reminding him the awful mistake he made for just trying not to sound too intense because, of course, he’s made that mistake in the past. and every girl he’s had something with always said the same: ‘you’re too much, charles’, ‘you’re taking things too fast, we should take a break.’ so ever since the last girl he dated, once again, said the same thing, charles promised himself he would not be that guy.

“hey,” alex has this look of pity in his eyes that he doesn’t like, not even one bit. “maybe we could do something to help you.”

“i don’t need your help.” charles’ tone is too sharp and abrupt it’s makes him feel a little bad for talking to his friends like that. but just a little.

“look, you like her, right?” pierre chimes in, but doesn’t wait for an answer. “alex is his best friend, if you want a chance with her, he’s the only one who can help you right now.”

but why does he wanna help him?

alex must see the question written all over his face because he says, “she’s dated a few assholes in the past and i really want something good for her. i trust you, charles.” he tries to look serious which only makes charles laugh. “besides, i have the perfect idea.”

ALEX’S iMESSAGE — MAY 18, 2023

INSTAGRAM POST

📍 VENICE, ITALY — MAY 19, 2023

Liked by scottyjames31, lance_stroll and 976,665 others

yourusername a few days ago i had the pleasure to celebrate two of my favorite people, Chloe and Scotty James. and spent two wonderful days filled with love and joy in the beautiful venice! so happy for you both. 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏼🩷

i wish i could stay here forever, but back to reality for now. :(

view all 7,455 comments

user55 i didn’t know she’s friends with the strolls

lance_stroll I have very embarrassing videos of you, just remember that 🍾

user56 why lance and Y/N look kinda good together

user57 That’s exactly what I was thinking. They would look pretty good as a couple user58 he has a girlfriend user59 and Y/N is probably dating charles user57 only rumors

user60 back to reality? she’s not gonna be in the paddock this weekend?

user61 why would she? nobody wants her there

user62 i thought she was in italy for the gp

user63 just a coincidence user62 still hoping she’ll be there

francisca.cgomes I’m gonna need to borrow that beautiful dress! ❤️

user63 she really knows everyone now user64 literally. she was just one time at a race and befriended everyone

user65 i feel like we’re missing something

Y/N’s iMESSAGE

SATURDAY MAY 20, 2023 — THE MISSION 007 DINNER

the second you see a head of brown hair standing at the door, you want to walk over to where alex is sitting and smash his head on the table. you made sure before arriving to the restaurant that charles was not gonna be there tonight, even lando told you he was busy with some ferrari event. obviously, both lied to you.

“hey, charles!” george, who’s standing next to you, his girlfriend carmen at your other side, waves at him. and for the first time since that fateful dinner a few days ago, you make eye contact with his bright brown eyes.

butterflies break free inside your belly, even when you try to repress everything he makes you feel.

you’ve known charles for no more than ten days but it really feels like you’ve known each other your whole life. everything is so easy with him, you can’t remember when was the last time you felt this way, if it ever happened.

you thought everything was going well between you two and, for a minute, you let yourself believe he could like you. but then he gave you the cold shoulder and everything came crashing down.

and that’s your problem. you always feel so much in so little time that when things don’t go the way you’d like, everything hurts twice as hard.

there’s no one to blame but you.

“hey,” is it possible to like the sound of his voice so much that you feel your knees going weak?

“you’re the last one to arrive. here,” george shares a look with his girlfriend that you don’t really know how to read, and both move aside. “you’re sitting here tonight. we’ll go find our seats.”

you want the earth to swallow you. you want to be in a plane far away from here because the seat george is pointing at it’s right next to yours.

before you can open your mouth to say something, the couple slips away. and suddenly it feels like you and charles are the only ones in the room.

no one says a word for what feels like hours. you’re actually trying to find a excuse to leave when charles sighs, defeated.

“i’m sorry.” his voice is almost a whisper, something only for you to hear. “i acted like an idiot.”

“yeah,” you agree because you don’t know what else to say. he did act like an idiot, ignoring you for days, not answering your texts even when you asked him if something was wrong.

“i can explain if you’d let me.”

his brown eyes bore into yours, so soft and sincere your heart skips a beat. and even if you want to say no, your whole body begs you to accept.

“let’s eat first and enjoy the evening,” his face lights up like a kid on christmas day. “then i’ll let you buy me dessert and we can talk.”

TWITTER — SUNDAY MAY 21, 2023

TAGLIST (bold means i couldn’t tag you) — @leclerc16s. @willowpains. @berrnuu. @minkyungseokie. @sassyheroneckgiant. @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir. @nessacarty1. @a1leexxa. @storminacloud. @lovstappen.

note: i hope you liked it. i’m sorry if i forgot to tag you! please let me know what you think, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated. <3

[mieldreams]

The Interview

Summary: An Interview with your co-star and childhood friend in the early 2000s.

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x reader

Warning: Crack.

A/n: the warning says crack because that's what I was on when I wrote this. more on that later.

*Set sometime in the early 2000s (possibly 2003) after the release of Life as a House and AOTC*

“—Next up we have a special and highly requested interview with Miss Y/N Y/L/N and Mr. Hayden Christensen! They starred together in the 2001 movie ‘Life as a House’ and have previously worked together on the Canadian TV show 'Higher Ground'. And after a quick little commercial break, they are going to be answering some questions sent to us by their fans! Isn’t that exciting?”

Your ears perked up at the call of your name, immediately snapping to attention and smiling politely as the cameraman pointed the camera for a shot.

“Oh, very. We love our fans and it’s nice to hear from them.” The camera switched from the interviewer to show Hayden answering.

 “Yeah, it is. We’ve actually never done this, I think. So I’m kind of excited.” You said with a small smile on your face which quickly turned a little mischievous as soon as the cameras cut to the commercial.

*The cameras cut for the commercial*

“I hope they have some fun questions,” you wiggled your eyebrows at the camera and the crew, “I’m actually looking to get revenge on this guy here.” Hayden rolled his eyes jokingly and turned to you.

“You can’t seriously still be mad at that.” He chuckled.

“I am, actually. And I fully intend on making you pay,” you replied in the most serious tone you could manage.

But before he could reply, the interviewer interrupted, “Oooo what’s this I hear about revenge? Something scandalous we wanna share with the world?” his face had a curious expression.

“It's nothing too serious–” Hayden started,

“—uh, yes it!” you interrupted, manners be damned, the world has to know what a cruel friend your co-star is.

“Do you wanna tell them or should I?” you turned to him with raised brows.

“So basically,” Hayden starts with a defeated sigh, “Y/N here thinks I ruined her one chance at “true love”,” he made finger quotes in the air, “by introducing her—”

“by betraying me—”

“—by introducing her to Ewan McGregor.”

“You did NOT just “introduce” me!—” you shook your head in offence.

“He DRAGGED me to meet him even though I wasn’t ready!” you pointed at him with an accusing finger while looking at the camera crew and then at the interviewer.

While your voice took on a higher pitch to make your words sound as accusing as they did, and your face held an expression of the most genuine-looking offence, your body was quite relaxed, leaned back in your chair with your ankles casually crossed while your hands moved animatedly to emphasize your words. And that was all Hayden needed to see to know you were only pulling his leg.

So he replied with a laugh, “I just introduced you!”

“Uh yeah before I was actually prepared to meet him. I looked like a hooker caught masturbating in church with the way I stuttered and couldn’t get a single whole sentence out the entire time” Hayden and the interviewer immediately burst out laughing at your choice of words while you shook your head, your hands covering your face in embarrassment.  

“And when did this happen?” asked the interviewer, still chuckling.

“A few months back – at this party with all the Star Wars folk. It was a little bit after episode 2 came out.” Hayden answered.

“So if it wasn’t for Hayden’s bad timing, would Miss Y/N have tried to shoot her shot with Mr. McGregor?” the interviewer tried digging further into this little piece of never-heard-before “drama.” 

“Does Ms. Y/N have a crush on Mr. McGregor? And be honest!” the interviewer laughed.

You blushed at the question, a tiny smile appearing on your face that you made sure to hide by averting your gaze to your fingers picking a thread on your dress’ hem, “Uh...no,” you answered truthfully, fully aware that he was a married man and the Hollywood vultures that were always hungry for gossip and drama would definitely turn a harmless joke into some petty story about infidelity or worse, “I wouldn’t have done that. I mean, look what happened when I simply stood next to him! It is true ya girl is an Obi-girlie through and through, but she is not a smooth talker unfortunately.” You shook your head with an expression of exaggerated regret and pity, making the interviewer giggle.

“And how do you feel about that Mr. Christensen?” the interviewer raised his brows at the man beside you, who had surprisingly gone quiet while you had been trying your hardest to not blush and giggle while giving your answer, memories of your unholiest thoughts repeating in your head like a broken record player. (Can you be blamed really? Have you seen him in Shallow Grave? And Moulin freaking Rouge? Oh my god—)

Hayden simply tilted his head slightly towards the interviewer, you assumed he was playing the usual ‘pretend you don’t understand’ card that you both primarily resorted to when it came to vague but definitely not vague relationship questions.

But you were wrong, both ways. Because while that’s what he would have done had he heard the question, he was instead lost in the flashback reel his mind was playing — of the very night he had mentioned. Of how he may have stopped breathing when he first saw you standing across the room in that glittery short black dress. Of how he most definitely stopped breathing when his gaze travelled up your body only for you to turn, your eyes meeting his with a technicolour kaleidoscopic flash in his brain. Of how he felt a blackhole open up in his stomach when your perfectly painted red lips immediately stretched into the most dazzling smile when you realised it was him, and how quickly you had excused yourself to start walking his way.

And turns out the interviewer had, in fact, not been alluding to some “secret affairs” between you and Hayden either (as the magazines always called it, though you never understood how it could be an affair when neither of you were in another relationship, not that you kept tabs on his relationships or such things) as he clarified, “what do you think of the fact that Miss Y/N is an “Obi girl” and not an Anakin fan?”

And while you could have corrected him on how you never said you were not an Anakin girl, you were too curious to know his answer so you remained mum.

 His memory reel ended abruptly, having to force a laugh to buy some time to think about his answer. If he answered too seriously, it could fuel the rumours but if he answered too casually it could fuel the rumours. He knew he couldn’t let any of his actual thoughts be known, not knowing what to do with those feelings himself, let alone trust the world with them. If he had maybe a 0.002% chance by himself, he’s sure the rumour mills would churn it down to a negative statistic. Not that he had actually thought about those calculations before, or any sorts of chances at all for that matter. No, he had never thought about just one chance for the hundred different ways he could love you or just one chance for the thousand different ways things could go wrong, what with both of your popularity and how you seemed to be two people worlds apart in your ways.

There was this queasy feeling in his stomach — odd ball of jealousy? No, definitely not. It couldn’t be. Probably just the milk he had that morning, maybe he should check the expiry date of his dairy more often.

“Um...” he shook his head while forcing a small smile on his face, “honestly? I get it man. Obi Wan’s pretty cool, eh? I mean Ewan McGregor’s definitely got the style. He’s so fun to work with and uh.. yeah, I get it. I get it.” Honestly, he himself didn’t know half of what he was saying, he just wanted to get started with the interview.

And maybe the stars were on his side that day because someone from the crew spoke up,

“Guys, so the commercial’s closing, the cameras and crew are ready. shall we start?”

“Yes.” Hayden replied a little too quickly while you nodded in agreement.

“So, we’re back after the break, and we’ll be starting with the first question to—,” the interviewer started, “– Hayden. From 10-year-old Leni Schmitt, she’s from Germany and she says, “Dear Anakin, why did you kill all those women and children when they didn’t kill your mother? I don’t judge you because sometimes my classmates annoy me too. Did those children annoy you?”

Hayden, who wasn’t expecting such a question looked at the interviewer with his mouth dropped open in shock, eyebrows raised while you sit beside him with a similar expression which you school immediately, or at least try to, but only end up having to cover up your amusement and surprise with a fake cough and clearing of your throat.

“Umm...” Hayden briefly looked at the floor, trying to come up with a suitable answer to this child’s question, he then turned back to the camera, “you see Leni, Anakin is a guy with very big emotions who isn’t allowed to talk about them openly, often. He’s a little conflicted and hurt after what happens to his mother and doesn’t know what to do. So he makes a few wrong decisions and does a few wrong—”

“—murderous” You whisper under your breath which you cover up with another cough, smirking off to the side which earns you a side eyed glare from Hayden who continuous like he never heard you.

“—things. I think he’s a good lesson that we should talk about our feelings first, even the ones that hurt and feel bad.”

“I agree, well said.” The interviewer nodded his head, switching to the next card in his hand. “This next question here, is for Y/N. It’s from 7-year-old Nancy from America. She says, “Dear Nancy, my name is Nancy too.”

“Hello, Nancy” you waved at the camera with a warm smile, understanding that the child was referencing to one of your older movies, where you played a young girl from the 17th century, named Nancy.

“I think you’re really pretty and very amazing. You’re really smart and strong and look very cool with a sword. I know pirates are supposed to be the bad guys but I want to be just as brave and smart as you when you grow up. When I grow up, I want to study space and stars too.” The interviewer continued reading from the card while you melted in your chair from the girl’s sweet words.

“PS. Can you please tell Mom and Dad to get me a sword for Christmas too?” The interviewer read with a laugh to which you chuckled too.

“First of all Nancy,” you turned to look at the camera again, “I can tell that you’re already very brave and amazing and smart. And I think it’s really amazing that you want to learn about space and stars, it’s a very cool subject.” You nodded your head with an encouraging smile, “as for the sword…” you titled your head towards the camera, dragging out the ending of the last word, “maybe you don’t need a sword because you’re already so cool. I needed the sword to fight to protect myself, but maybe you can become so smart that you don’t need one.” You hoped that the answer was sufficient for the little kid and that her parents weren’t cursing your name for their child’s slightly difficult gift wishes.

“Though swords are cool, no?” Hayden interjected with a teasing smile. You turned to give him a look with narrowed eyes, as if to say 'do not fuck with me.'

“Yes, but definitely not as cool as being really smart.” You said with strained laughter and an exaggerated smile into the camera. If the child wasn’t convinced, you were sure her parents would be sending you hate mail next for their kid’s less-than-convenient demands, so you turned to Hayden with wide eyes and an expectant expression.

“...Hmm you’re right.” He finally caved with barely contained amusement on his face, looking right into your eyes. “Nancy is really smart. And she’s really cool and really pretty too...” he broke his stare to turn to the camera, “so maybe she’s right, you don’t need a sword to be cool.” He shrugged his shoulders in a casual way.

“I’m always right.” You stuck your nose in the air and turned away from him with faux arrogance, his lips lifting in amusement as you both looked ahead waiting for the next question, except it wasn’t a question card that the interviewer held up.

“So we know we said we’re gonna have you guys answer questions from your fans,” the interviewer seemed to be holding a sort of small photograph, something like a standard 4 × 6 inches album size, but it was turned so you could only see the blank side, “but we’re your fans too, so we have a question as well.”  

Hayden chuckled at that while you nodded your head, “Shoot.”

“So we have this photograph here,” the interviewer turned the photo around to show it to you both and then to the camera while your expressions immediately changed to that of surprise.

“Oh, wow. That’s really…” Hayden trailed off, still looking at the picture in surprise but now with a growing smile.

“Old.” You finished for him. “How’d you even manage to find this?” you asked.

“We have our sources.” The interviewer laughed and replied in a secretive way.

“No seriously how did you manage to find this? This was what? At least four or five years back. We look like babies!” you said, laughing in disbelief. “Can I see that please?” You wanted to look at the photo up close, the nineties quality not doing much for its clarity.

He hands it over to you and you let out a small gasp, leaning over to Hayden to show it to him as well. Your shoulders touched as you leaned together over the photograph, his fingers brushing yours as he tilted the photo to see it better.

The photo was one from the set of higher ground. It was of you and Hayden – asleep together in the highback armchair of the “common hall.” You were cramped together on the small single-seater chair, sitting side by side. Though practically, you were on his lap sitting perpendicular to him, with his feet on the floor while your legs went over his and over the arm of the one-seater couch. Your face was hidden in the crook of his neck while his head was leaned on yours, one arm wrapped around your back and the other rested on your legs while yours lay over his stomach. You were essentially squished between him and one arm of the chair and it looked somewhat uncomfortable in the photo, however if your memory served you right, it was one of the comfiest places you had slept.

“—in his arms” The Voice echoed in your brain. “Shut up,” you told The Voice.

The interviewer brought your attention back to him with a question, “So this is you two on the set of…” letting his sentence fade to let you complete it.

“Higher ground” you and Hayden replied at the same time as you left the photo in his hands to sit up straight again.

“And can you tell us more about this photo?”

“Um, yeah. This was, if I remember correctly, this was from the set of higher ground – it was the day we had to film those hiking scenes in the forest. This was towards the end of the day, I think. we were really exhausted.” You turned to look at Hayden as he replied, lifting his gaze from the photo to look you in the eyes.

“Yeah, um, funny though because I had no idea this photo existed.” You shook your head with a small laugh, “I guess the rest of them were planning on pranking us or something.”

“Clearly,” Hayden replied with a chuckle of his own, turning the photo to the camera again and pointing at all of your cliffhanger castmates gathered around the couch you both were sleeping on, each of them making funny faces at the camera.

AJ and Jewel were both holding uncapped markers in their hands, leaning over the sides of the couch with mischievous grins, their childish prank obvious. Kandyse and Meghan were standing behind the couch, with Kandyse smiling at the camera and Meghan looking down at the two of you while Jorgito and Kyle were posing in front of the couch. Kyle pointing at the two of you with one hand and making a shushing gesture with his other, and Jorgito was simply smiling at the camera holding a peace sign with his fingers.

You were honest about being completely unaware of the existence of this photo and judging from Hayden’s reaction, he was too. It made you nostalgic even though it was hardly a few years back. Your experience on the show was monumental in shaping your acting skills, specifically with how complex and flawed your character was. You remembered having a lot of fun with your castmates and feeling really good about the kind of story you were involved in showing the world. And since you and Hayden had already known each other from acting school, it made working together on set that much easier (though most people believed you to be fun and outgoing, you weren’t the biggest talker around new people).

The photo was so unexpected however, and you felt yourself get a little self-conscious at the thought that along with you, the whole audience that was watching would now be privy to it. As if the constantly churning rumour mill of romance and drama didn’t put out enough accusations of affairs and secret admirers on the both of you, this was truly the last thing you needed the world to see – you and Hayden in an embrace that looked far too familiar, as if you held each other and fell asleep in each other’s arms every day —which you didn’t. No matter how many times you daydreamed about it when you looked at his arms – his warm palms that were so much bigger than yours, the veins on the back of his hands that disappeared into his thick forearms or his strong and broad shoulders and how you’d wish time would stop whenever he hugged you in greeting. But it didn’t matter. You were friends. That’s it.  

You turned to look at Hayden’s face only to realise he was actually saying something to the interviewer and you barely caught the last of his sentence, agreeing to something about his penchant for playing troubled and conflicted characters, including his character in the show. You felt guilty for spacing out and that made you feel more embarrassed, shifting in your seat to get your head back in the room and trying to clear your throat as quietly as possible.

Your movement, however, caught Hayden’s eyes and his eyes immediately shifted to you, meeting your gaze before shifting again to look you over once, to see if there was something wrong. When he didn’t find anything obvious, he looked back into your eyes, not stopping what he was previously saying but looking at you with a questioning gaze. The attention only flustered you further, so you quickly shook your head as discretely as possible to let him know you were fine but mostly to get his goddamn piercing eyes off of you, you were surely going red in the face as it is.

Thankfully, your reprieve came in the form of the next question from the interviewer.

“So the next question, is for Y/N, this is from 22-year-old Mia, she’s from France and she says “Dear Y/N, I really loved your work on ‘The Venue’, the ease with which you portray both the complex psychological conflict of the character as well as the almost euphoric seeming dissociative state she’s in throughout the movie has immediately made me a huge fan of yours. I can’t wait to watch the sequel! But I want to know – is there anything in the movie that you improvised or any part of the character that you made up yourself?”

You had picked up the glass of water in front of you to take a sip during the question, leaning forward to put it down but instead Hayden gets it for you with a simple, “here let me,” his hand brushing over yours while handing you a tissue for the water you had spilt on your dress in your hurry to put the glass down. You thank him then lean back in your seat to look into the camera with a small smile, “I’m glad you enjoyed my work Mia, thank you. To be fair, most of the ease came from just how well written her character was; so if there’s anyone to truly appreciate, it’s the writers. They helped me to really understand the nuances of her character, specifically emotionally. As for improvisations, yes actually. I did improvise some of her lines, mostly the ones with Chris Pine. With the kind of relationship those two characters had and with the help of our brilliant director, it felt natural really. Plus, Chris is an amazing actor and the chemistry these two characters have is truly something, it definitely keeps you hooked.”

“Speaking of chemistry,” the interviewer started, “this next question’s for the both of you—and this I think pretty much the entire world is eager to know at this point” the interviewer looked up from the card and paused for dramatic effect “are you two dating?”

Hayden sighed in resignation, leaning forward to pull something out from his pant pocket while you let out a joyous laugh, tilting your head back and pumping your fists in the air. He proceeded to pull out his wallet and take out what looked to be a local library card while you made grabby hands at him with a devious toothy smile. The interviewer could only watch in confusion and mild amusement as Hayden reluctantly handed over the card to you.

When you both settled the interviewer couldn’t help but voice his curiosity about whatever just happened in front of him.

“Um…” Hayden started only to be interrupted by you,

“—this is basically one of my revenge plans,” you answered with an all too pleased smile on your face.

“One of? Really?” Hayden asked with a groan tilting his head back, “heavens help me.”

“Heaven only helps NON traitors Hay–bae” you teased with narrowed eyes and your still present smirk. “You wouldn’t know.”

 “I feel out of loop here, and I’m really curious so” the interviewer interrupted, pointing between the two of you “What is this revenge? Was that some sort of credit card…? Is the plan purchasing something really expensive with it?”

“Oh no no no, that would be—” you shook your head with a devious smile.

“—far too easy for her.” Hayden completed with an eye roll. “She took my library card. Her “revenge” is that she’s gonna order a bunch of really embarrassing stuff from the local library—”

You immediately started the list on your fingers, “porno magazines, questionable movies and toddler’s picture books, maybe I’ll try to order banned videos, it’ll be a real fun combo–”

“There would be kids watching this interview too, you know?” he interjected with a sigh.

“Sorry kids,” you winced at the camera, “but anyway– maybe I can order like pregnant mom guides and cult rituals instruction tapes, if they even have those—”

“And then she’s gonna make me collect them, in person,” he rolled his eyes, “cause she’s a cruel person who wants to traumatise the poor old woman who works there,”

“She’s seen things beyond your comprehension, Hayden.” You said in a jokingly patronizing tone.

“And how would you know that? What are you, friends with my local librarian?” he questioned incredulously only to receive a small shrug in response. He looked at you in bewilderment, “Oh my god? When-? How even?”

You scoffed, “We’ve known each other since we were kids, dude. You’ve lived there all your life, and she’s worked there all ours.” As if it was the most obvious explanation.

“Anyways,” you continued, “then I’m gonna make him return those things, in person, only after a week of displaying them in his house for everyone to see of course.”

“I’m not displaying them in my hou–”

“Oh hush, this is my revenge. I’ll say what to do.”

“Well,” the interviewer tried to get the interview back on track, “all the best for that. Now, shall we continue with the ques-”

Hayden leaned forward to grab his bottle of drinking water, your childish antics flustering him this time.

“Not doing it.” He whispered under his breath as he tilted his head to take a sip. You turned to look at him, ready to fire your own retort but stopped short at the sight of his side profile – his perfectly sculpted nose, his stupidly gorgeous long lashes that fluttered every time he blinked. Your gaze then fixated on his lips wrapped around the mouth of the bottle, so full and pink and inviting as they slickened with the water, which then brought your attention to his throat, his prominent adam’s apple that bobbed up and down as he drank, his thick neck that looked like the most tempting canvas to paint with the print of your lips.

Your gaze lowered to his wide shoulders that stretched the sweater he was wearing before you realised what you were doing and quickly looked away, clearing your throat which unfortunately got his attention. He turned his head and your eyes met over the bottle that he still drank from and it felt like the whole world stilled for a moment before you had to look down again, feeling as if he might read you immediately, only to see his fucking neck bared enticingly again.

You leaned a little closer to him just as he finished drinking and put the bottle cap back on. sitting right next to each other, it was as if there was some sort of magnetic pull making you gravitate towards the other. You licked your lips, then bit your lower one, a hard-to-kill old habit, his gaze drawn to the movement before he looked back directly into your eyes.

What seemed to you like a moment that lasted forever, was in reality just a few brief seconds of definitely-not-drooling-over-him and way-too-intense eye contact.

“We’ll see.” you whispered with a subtle smile and a sparkle in your eyes then leaned away again, back from his personal space that you seemed to have forgotten about for a second.

He quickly looked to the interviewer and cleared his throat as he leaned forward to place the bottle back, “I’m sorry, we seemed to have gotten sidetracked. Y/N has the attention span of a goldfish.” He joked. And just like that you were back to your usual dynamic.

“If I have the attention span of one, then you have the memory of one.” You replied with a huff and a dramatic eye-roll.

 “But to appease your curiosity, we basically had a bet going on.” Hayden continued.

“That he lost.” You continued with a smug thumb pointed at him.

“That I lost. We made a bet that we would get asked this question. I guess I naively assumed that rumours of us dating would be considered long dead and everyone would have moved on from this topic. Clearly, I was mistaken.” He said with a nonchalant expression that barely hid his discomfort at the topic.

“So then, should we tell them?” you turned to look at him and wiggled your eyebrows with a teasing smile. Your expression then turned serious as you tilted your head towards the camera, the smile wiped from your face, “should we tell them?”

Hayden was still leaned back in his chair to your left, while you sat at the edge of yours, your body entire turned to face his.

He merely shrugged a shoulder in response, as if to say, “Your call.”  

You looked down for a second, cleared your throat then looked back into his eyes again, “We are—,” you turned to face the camera then turned your body towards the camera entirely as well, leaning ahead and further away from him while he still looked at your face, “—not. We are not dating.” You said shaking your head with a little laugh.  

“But,” you wiggled your brows at the camera this time, “I still won the bet! So guess who’s getting special treatment tonight? It’s ya girl!” your thumbs at yourself and did a little shoulder shimmy, “and what’s that special treatment going to be you ask?” You continued the conversation by yourself, your voice taking on a suggestive tone with the raise of a brow, “Of really tasty food of course! And hopefully an even tastier dessert.” You laughed, looking back at Hayden this time, who was shaking his head with a fond smile that you don’t notice, because as soon as you turned to look at him he put on a faux thoughtful expression.

“Hmm… I don’t know. I don’t remember agreeing to dessert in the bet.” He looked at you with a small smirk.

Your head whips to look at him with a comically shocked expression, “Dude! You can’t be serious!?”

“Oh, but I am.” And his face held a calm and composed expression too.

“Oh my god, you promised me—” you start.

“I never promised—”

And your bickering fades as the video cuts off with the screen going blank.

The camera zooms out of the TV screen that had been playing the video.

“So, Y/N–”

“Yes, Tim?” your voice is light, going along with the joking tone of conversation the interviewer set.

“It’s been ages–what, like 15 years?” he asks.

You do the quick math in your head, “A little more than 15, yeah.”

“Wow. More than 15 years! It’s been wonderful watching you grow up to have such a prolific career.” He adds.

“Thanks, Tim. I’m really lucky to have gotten such opportunities.”

“15 years–wow. So, the first time around when we filmed that interview with you, when I interviewed you, we didn’t get to show it to the world–” he points to that same TV screen while you shake your head in confirmation.

“But now, we got to show it for the first time, even if it’s 15 years late!” he laughs. “So Y/N, from then to now, what’s changed?” he questions in a curious tone.

“A lot, Tim.”

You sneak a longing glance at Hayden who's sitting beside you on the couch before looking back at Tim. “A lot.”

“I mean–” you lift your hand, wiggling your fingers to show off the small sparkling diamond on your left ring finger. An uncharacteristically quiet smile graces your face as the audience erupts into screams in the background.

sooo it's been two decades... who's ring do we think it is? Hayden's? or did some other lucky guy shoot his shot first and win?? will we ever find out?? if it's not Hayden's should we change that??? 👀

ps: if anyone's confused about how they were sitting in the photo it's something like this but they're sitting on one of those single armchair types so they'd be forced a little closer so more like this or this (with ur butt on the cushion itself cuz you're still! just! friends!!!)😏😈

A/n: aight so when I said I wrote this on crack didn't mean literally ofc. (though I might as well have been, considering how stupid this is lol)

I wrote this ages ages ago when I watched a bunch of 2000s HC edits and got crazy stupid embarrassingly obsessed with him (again) so I just had to channel all that into some cringe thing. so here it is. after rotting in my drafts for so long. idk might take it down later we'll see. but for now y'all have her (even tho nobody asked for this so im sry)

I had only written this for shits and giggles so if things don't make sense don't bother telling me I already know.

But if you enjoyed it do like and comment! xx

[emmyrosee]

“But I’m cold.”

Your voice whines in a pitch that makes Kiyoomi’s brow hitch up in annoyance, arms crossed firmly over his chest as he stares at you from the end of your bed.

It’s late, he’s been staying later every time he comes over after practice, almost as if to see you off to bed. You tell him- well, beg him- to just stay and spend the night, it’s too late for him to drive and you’ll miss him.

Deep down, you know that’s the point that seems to make him want to cave the most, but the stubborn asshole hasn’t given in fully yet. He’s told you from the beginning he’s more of a ‘sleep in my own bed’ kind of guy, but it did make you feel a little insecure about why, then, he never invited you over.

Kiyoomi promised you it was just because of the early mornings, he never wanted you to feel like you had to dash out, or even wake up to see him off, but the insecurity burns all the same.

“If you’re cold, get under the sheets,” he says, as if explaining to a child. “I’ll leave my hoodie for you, if you’d like?”

You fiddle with the threads of your blanket stiffly, “I don’t… I don’t want to get under the sheets.” You sink your teeth into the fat of your lip in embarrassment, trying to ward off awkward tears that want to sting. “Because, when I do, you’re going to leave.” From your sitting position, you see him deflate slightly.

Then, he pads his way next to you. He scoots on your bed, and he wraps an arm around you, tugging you close. You burrow into his side, inhaling the warmth of his skin.

“How about I wait until you’re asleep?” He offers, voice low. He moves the hand not embracing you to gently grip your chin and angle you to look up at him, eyes soft and calm.

“You hurt my feelings when you don’t want to stay, Kiyoomi.”

The words slip out unprovoked, and as his face morphs into one of guilt, yours turns to one of embarrassment. You clear your throat and turn away from the fingers against your chin.

“Yeah,” You pant. “I… I understand that you don’t want to stay. If you don’t mind waiting until I’m asleep, that… that would mean a lot.”

He nods, mind deep in thought as he curls more around you, protectively, letting you get lost in the fabric of his sweatshirts and the bulky arms encasing you. You purr, and just like it does when you’re always with kiyoomi, your mind settles and before you can know it, you’re off into sleep.

Your dreams conjure minimal, little flickers of familiar faces in ridiculous scenarios, but you jolt awake when there’s a teeny nightmare that manages to catch you off guard, and your eyes fly open to try and stop the fear that started brewing.

Now awake, you gladly are able to take in your surrounding and shake off the fright; you’re not entirely sure how you ended up in your pajamas and under the covers, but you’re not complaining. As sunlight peers through the blinds, you stretch and try to curl in on yourself, but you’re blocked by a solid body next to you.

You yelp, slightly alarmed, but there’s a soft, smooth “shhhh,” that comes from the person beside you, and as an arm wraps around you, you burrow into his familiar scent with a happy mewl.

“Omi?” You mumble, pulling your arms close to your chest as he pulls you closer. “You stayed?”

“Shut up,” he murmurs. “You were shivering.”

The meek attempt at denying why he truly stayed makes you giggle, and you burrow against his chest in search for that addictive warmth he’d granted you through the whole night.

“Thank you,” you say, nuzzling your head under his chin. His arms are protective around you, his sleepy grunts barely audible, you’re sure you would’ve missed them if you weren’t so close, but they’re the sweetest noises you’ve ever heard, and you hate that he denied you them for so long.

“You wanna talk about your nightmare?” He says, voice drunk with sleep.

“What nightmare?”

“You were flinching a little before you woke up. Figured it scared you awake.”

You smile and plant a kiss along the muscles of the pectoral you’re nuzzled against, “it wasn’t serious. I’m more impressed you knew it had me awake.”

“Of course I knew; you only tremble like that when you’re scared.”

“You care about me or something?”

“I just happen to pay attention to you.” One onyx eye peers down at you, “because of course I care about you, dickhead.”

Fuck, you think to yourself. He’s damn good.

And he is. Kiyoomi is ridiculously good, he always has been, and while you hadn’t meant to upset him with your confession last night, there is a small sliver of you that’s grateful he listened and caved to be with you.

Even if it was a little out of his comfort zone.

“This is nice,” he mumbles into your hair, his fingertips dragging up and down the slope of your spine.

You nod and move one of your hands to the nape of his neck, carding the curly locks and relishing in the mewls he lets out, “I told you. You just don’t listen to me.”

“Because I’m not used to you being right.”

“You’re so rude,” you snort, and once again, his vocal chords vibrate against your head as he laughs. It’s quiet once again, and you’re almost ready to doze back off when on the nightstand next to the bed, his phone vibrates loudly.

“Omi-“

“No,” he grumbles. “‘S just Miya. He’s fine. We’re comfortable.”

“We are,” you giggle. “But I don’t want you to be late.”

“I’m never late for anything.” He shifts to nuzzle his head deeper into the pillow, “besides, you’re the one who convinced me to stay, why are you trying to get me to leave now?”

“I don’t want you to leave,” you assure.

“Yeah, I don’t either.”

“You have to,” you snort, your eyes watching as his Adam’s Apple bobs with each swallow and word that falls from his sleepy mouth. “Come on. Meian will be pissed, Miya will be blowing up your phone soon enough.”

“Fuck Miya,” he grumbles. “You’re trying to get me to stop snuggling and leave and you think Miya is your best argument?”

You give him some more laughter, your fingers gently running over the moles and scars that adorn his chest and side, and you smirk as the muscles quiver under your touch. Ticklish. He would be. “Oh?”

“You wanna keep that hand?” He grumbles, and if you knew him any less, you may have missed the way you could hear the smile in his voice. “I suggest you don’t get too creative there.”

“Oh, I’m getting very creative.” Before you can provoke him further, a hand grabs yours and tenderly brings it up to his lips, planting warm, soft kisses to the knuckles.

“Don’t be annoying,” he mutters, sleepily looking at you from the corner of his eyes, “just be affectionate. I got months to try and make up for.”

He looks cute, soft in the early morning haze, and you do decide You yield as you curl into the bend of his sides, letting his breathing even out before his phone starts ringing again. He’s warm, his snuggly, and he’s still the Kiyoomi only you have the privilege of seeing.

And now, you’re hoping he’s giving you the privilege to see it every morning.

[querenciasturniolo]

i absolutely love your writing! could you maybe write something like nick and y/n is best friends and play argue/ fight all the time but y/n accidentally admits her feelings about matt and nick goes ballistic?

obviously ⮕ n.s.

word count: 1k

warnings: swearing, accidental confession, shame, embarrassment

summary: one slip of the tongue has you at a complete loss of words

a/n: thank you so much 🫶🏻 this is such a funny concept, and it was so fun writing it.

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

part one || part two

Nick never kept anything he was feeling to himself.

It was one of his many charms, constantly saying how he felt. You loved it, considering he was your best friend. You were never bored when Nick was on one of his rants. Right now was one of those moments, the two of you were laying in his bed, your stomach aching with how hard you were laughing.

“No, I’m serious! This old ass man was walking so fucking slow in front of me, and then pushed the pull door. He deserved it though, he wouldn’t let me pass.” He said. You shook your head and ran your hands through your hair.

“You always get yourself in the worst situations, I swear.” You said, another smaller laugh bubbling out of you as you sat up.

Nick pushed himself up and pulled his phone out. “Okay, topic change. Why are you posting all of these mushy, agonizingly painful text quotes about love on threads all of a sudden?” He asked. You turned to face him with your eyebrows raised.

“What are you talking about?”

Nick scoffed and tapped away on his phone, pulling up your threads profile and reading one of your posts out loud. “The only love that lasts is unrequited love.” He quotes dramatically, putting his whole soul into the theatrics. “I am in love with you, and I can’t do anything about it.” He finished. Your face was burning as you shook your head and shrugged.

“I don’t know, I thought they were beautiful.” You said, the look on Nick’s face completely unamused.

“Just tell me, Y/n. I’m not gonna judge you.” He said. He stood from his bed then, the expression on his face goofy. “Is it me? Are you in love with me? I wouldn’t blame you, I’m great.” You threw your head back and laughed, meeting Nick’s smiling face once more as you shook your head.

“Please, I’m not that delusional.” You said, reaching down and sliding your shoes onto your feet. “There’s no point in me saying it, because it would never happen anyway.”

Nick’s hand rested on your shoulder, your gaze meeting his. He was frowning, and you couldn’t help but scoff at him. “Okay, now I’m convinced that it’s me.” He said, a goofy smile on his face.

You snorted and shook your head before reaching for the door handle. “Nope.” You said, Nick raising his eyebrows.

“Chris, then? You guys have been hanging out a lot.” You scoffed and pulled a face, making it seem like you found it ridiculous.

“Wrong brother, but nice try.” You said, your hand freezing before you turned the knob. You could feel the gears turning in his head as he processed your slip up.

“Oh my God, it’s Matt, isn’t it?”

You turned your head to face him, more than likely resembling a deer in headlights as you met his eyes. His eyes were wide as realization dawned on him.

“Holy shit, I knew it!” He shouted. You shushed him, holding your hands up. Nick shook his head and stepped past you, slowly turning the door handle.

“Nicolas Antonio, I swear to God.” You said through your teeth, trying to avoid laughing as he ripped open the door and bolted down the stairs. You chased after him, shouting obscenities the moment you had him cornered. He was on the other side of the dining table, his smile playful as he moved from side to side, trying to catch you off guard. You were one step ahead of him, laughter trying its hardest to break through your lips as you beamed at Nick, shaking your head with each movement he made.

“I will smite you, I can promise you that.” You said, the both of you moving to the left quickly, completely switching sides of the table. Your back was to the sink, his to the stairs and both of your hands resting on the back of a chair.

Nick laughed quietly and shook his head. “I’m not going to tell Matt you like him, obviously. That’s just fucked up.” He said. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, you noticed the movement out of the corner of your eye.

It took you too long to process that Matt was standing next to the fridge, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. You felt all of the color drain out of your face, shame and embarrassment creeping in as your eyes flickered between Nick and Matt. Nick finally turned around, his eyes widening when seeing Matt standing there.

Before anyone could say anything, you rushed around the table and down the stairs, rushing out of the house and to your car.

The entire drive home, you were ignoring your phone vibrating, wanting to let yourself calm down and get home before you even looked. It took you getting to your room and sitting on your bed before you even pulled your phone out to see.

You sighed and messaged Nick back, letting him know you weren’t mad at him and that you just needed some time to yourself to process everything.

You were mortified, to say the least. It felt childish to be embarrassed about having your feelings for someone revealed, but considering you’d known him your entire life, it almost felt…desperate.

It felt as though you’d ruined everything. You never wanted Matt to find out about your feelings for him, you were planning on just ignoring these feelings and letting them go away. Knowing them for as long as you have, it felt almost wrong, like you weren’t supposed to have these feelings because of your friendship.

You groaned and dropped back on your bed, grabbing a pillow and pressing it against your face to muffle yourself. Tomorrow you’d be over this, you knew the embarrassment and shame would go away quickly. You’d never been the type to let something like this hold you down, but you figured it was the shock of it all happening so quickly.

It felt like you were laying there for ages, your pillow resting on your face lightly and your arms resting above your head. Your phone vibrated next to you, your hand reaching for it blindly as the other pushed your pillow off of your head. You figured it was a text from Nick, probably asking you if you wanted to talk about it or something along those lines.

Your heart stopped in your chest when Matt’s name lit up your screen. You immediately opened the text, your hands shaking as you read over the three words over and over again.

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

Yev's Mosquito Bite

“Dad, Ian; You guys should really go on a date sometime,” were the first words Yev said to them when he came home from school on a nice, breezy afternoon. “It’s been way too long since you’ve had some time to yourselves.” 

Ian shared a glance of amusement with his husband. Yev didn’t give two shits about them having alone time, he was usually complaining about them being too openly affectionate in front of him. “Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Yev dropped his backpack on the floor, only to pick it back up with a sheepish smile when Mickey shot him a look. He draped it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “I mean, when was the last time you guys just had a night or-” he shrugged, taking on a tone that was far from nonchalantly, “afternoon out?” 

“You know,” Ian feigned a thoughtful voice, “now that you mention it, it has been a while.” Yev nodded eagerly. “I could always take the day off sometime soon. We could stay here all day.” 

Mickey smirked when Yev deflated. He grabbed Ian by his belt loops, gently pulling him closer. “I like the way you think, Gallagher. Hit the shower with me later?” 

“Fuck yeah,” Ian grinned, widening when Yev groaned loudly. 

“God, you guys are gross.” 

“Why do you want us out of the house, Yev?” Ian got straight to the point, one hand reaching back to thread his fingers through Mickey’s hair. It was a little longer nowadays, not quite the same length when he broke out of prison but close. 

“No reason,” Yev muttered. 

“No reason?” Mickey repeated, arching his brow. “Kid, if you’re planning on drinking, you’d better do it with us here.” 

Yev rolled his eyes. “Your beer sucks ass. You can keep it.” 

“Fuck you,” Mickey said with no heat. “You got shitty taste just like your mother.” 

“Mick,” Ian nudged him. 

“What? Don’t tell me you’re gonna start defending Mother Russia now.” 

“You shouldn’t talk about her like that,” Ian said calmly, taking an onion to start chopping for dinner. 

“Eh, it’s okay,” Yev shrugged again. “She says worse about Dad.” 

This had Mickey narrowing his eyes. “The fuck does she say about me?” 

Yev just gave his father a smirk of his own, and it looked just like Mickey’s, no doubt that he was his son. 

“Stop getting off track,” Ian scolded them both. He then addressed his son. “You wanna tell us why you’re trying to get rid of us?” 

“Not really,” Yev turned to grab a soda from the fridge, giving both of his fathers a full view of the two hickies on the side of his neck. 

Mickey snickered. “I think I know why.” 

Even Ian couldn’t hide the grin that spread over his face. “Is there someone you’re not telling us about, Yev?” 

Yev had gone very still. “No,” he mumbled. 

In other circumstances, Ian would be against trying to embarrass his child, remembering from experience how uncomfortable it could be to have someone in your business like that. Whoever had given it to him was obviously his first crush and if he wanted to keep communication between all three of them open and honest, he should let it rest. 

But after all the shit Yev gave him and Mickey, this was much deserved payback. 

“Yeah?” Mickey said slyly, “that why you got a couple of hickeys?” 

Ian had never seen Yev go so red before. Completely embarrassed, he cleared his throat, ducking his head, looking like he desperately wanted the floor to swallow him whole. “I’m going to my room.” 

“Oh, no way, Little Man,” Mickey yanked him by the back of his shirt.

“You’re gonna stay here.” 

“Why?” Yev whined. “They’re not even hickeys!” 

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. 

“Oh, they ain’t, huh?” Mickey snorted. 

“They’re mosquito bites, Dad.” 

“Oh, really?” Mickey said sarcastically. He brushed a finger over the spots, making Yev flinch. “Must have got you pretty good then.” 

“Must be really biting this time of year,” Ian remarked. 

Yev’s lips pressed together. “Yeah...” 

“That’s weird because I don’t remember you having any bites this morning,” Ian continued. 

“Must have happened when I was walking back,” Yev said quickly. 

Ian felt the laughter in his chest, threatening to come out. He managed to hold himself together, nodding like he believed the shit that was coming out of his mouth.  Mickey looked seconds away from calling him out on the bullshit too, but Ian just laid a hand on his lower back, his silent way of telling him to wait. 

“You should put a warm compress on those,” Ian advised. “It’ll help with the blood flow.” 

“Okay,” Yev grabbed his backpack, still holding his soda in his hand and made a beeline for his bedroom. 

“He thinks we’re fucking stupid,” Mickey chuckled. “How long you think it’ll be before we see whoever left ‘em?” 

Ian looped an arm around his husband’s shoulders. “I don’t know. Think we should go easy on him when he introduces us?” 

“Fuck no,” Mickey said and they both laughed. 

As it turns out, they would be introduced to the girl in question a couple of days later when Yev brought her home to work on a project together. 

“This is Emily,” their son said, fidgeting slightly. “Those are my dads; Mickey and Ian.” 

“It’s nice to meet you both,” Emily said politely. 

“You too,” Ian smiled warmly. 

“Yeah,” Mickey said with a nod. “So, you and the kid have a project together?” 

“Yes,” Emily said. “It’s for our history class. We’re supposed to take an event that happened and discuss the consequences of it.” 

“You can go ahead to my room,” Yev said hurriedly, probably to save himself from Ian or Mickey saying anything else. “It’s at the end of the hall. I’ll get us a drink.” 

“Okay,” Emily gave him and Mickey one last smile before going back there.  

Ian leaned against the countertop, watching Yev grab a couple cans of soda. “She’s pretty.” 

“Please don’t,” Yev cringed. 

“Ay, you like this girl?” Mickey asked. 

Yev’s cheeks flushed. “I don’t want to talk about this.” 

“That’s a yes,” Mickey and Ian said simultaneously. 

“Can we not?” 

“I think we should have Emily stay for dinner,” Ian said to his husband. “Get to know her a little better.” 

“No!” Yev said in horror. 

“Sure. I think Lana sent over some of his baby pictures over.” 

“We have a whole album,” Ian reminded him. 

“Oh my God-” 

Mickey nodded seriously, barely keeping a straight face as is. “You remember that one year he wore a tiger costume for Halloween and refused to take it off?” 

“That was pretty damn cute,” Ian chuckled. He meant that too. Yev had gone around trying to roar at everybody to scare them for at least two weeks after Halloween ended. 

“Bet Emily would like it,” Mickey teased. 

“Dad!” Yev whisper-yelled, a mixture of disbelief and equal parts irritation. He looked at Ian for help, but he was trying to quell his laughter so he was useless. “I fucking hate you both.” 

“Ay, watch your fucking language,” Mickey hit him lightly upside the head. 

“I’m going to room,” Yev said, aiming a glare at both of them. 

He started to walk, with Ian giving his husband a wink, calling for his son to wait. 

“What?” 

“Is your window open?” Ian said. 

“Yeah...” Yev said, agitatedly. “Why?”  

Ian threw him a bottle that he caught. 

“Bug spray,” he read off the title in bewilderment. “What the hell is this for?” 

“You know, for the mosquitoes,” Ian said calmly. Him and Mickey dissolved into loud laughter after that. 

“Ugh,” Yev snapped, looking like he wanted to throw the bottle at them. “I hope your dicks stay limp.” 

He stomped to his room after that, while his fathers tried to catch their breath. 

[sp0o0kylights]

Eddie Munson was having the kind of high where your hands were as floaty as your thoughts.

World tinged with a droopy-eyed vignette, he watched smoke loop lazily towards his window, twirling opaque in beams of light.

A knock sounded on his door, and Eddie simply stared at, unwilling to move.

His thick thoughts had him almost convinced he'd imagined it when it came again, a little louder and a touch more frantic.

'I should get up,' Eddie thought, with zero intention of following through.

The bed was too comfortable, his limbs velcroed in.

Someone started cursing, just barely heard through the thin trailer walls.

Eddie tracked it as it moved, circling around, a thread of concern wormed its way through the soft, engulfing fog.

It sharpened to a needle point when his window was thrust up with a bang. Seconds later a puff of hair climbed through, followed by broad shoulders and a build that could only belong to a grizzly--or Steve Harrington.

Grizzly Steve struggled trying to dodge all the shit flung around the room-unfamiliar with the path Eddie had taught himself and his bandmates.

He’d long found that a room covered in items made a pretty combination alarm system and booby trap, a fact he told Wayne repeatedly.

"Jesus I thought you were a bear." Eddie said jolting back in delayed action as Steve stood with a huff, hands on his hips.

"If you could answer your damn,--a bear?" Steve narrowed his eyes huffing dramatically. "You thought I was a bear!?"

Eddie managed to sit up on his elbows. "Sorry man. You were just kinda." He tilted his head. "Beary."

"Whaa-- tha' hell" Gareth announced his presence with a mutter, sitting up besides Eddie with his hair looking like an entire birds nest. It obscured his view, and he sleepily lifted a hand to comb through it.

It did absolutely nothing, as his curls immediately flopped back down into his eyes.

Steve froze.

"Ah." He said, looking between Eddie and the lump of blankets making up Gareth.

Steve's voice abruptly pitched itself adorably high. "Ahhh--"

The blush that spread across his face was an equal delight and Eddie knew it was a bad idea to drink it in, aim a dopey little grin Steve's way, but figured he could blame any backlash on the weed.

At least that's what said weed told him would work, and he was happy to comply.

"Harrington?" Blanket-Gareth asked, like he wasn't sure he was awake.

Which collected Eddie's wandering consciousness enough for a couple of cohesive thoughts. "Hey, mon cher," he hummed, rolling a hand out to Steve. "Bad night?"

"I--yeah, uh, no, I mean--shit. Sorry." He cast a panicked look towards the door. "I'll get out of your hair."

Eddie made a tutting noise. "After all the effort you just went through to get in here? Stick around, man. Take a load off."

He tossed him what he hoped was a confident, dazzling gleam and not something half psychotic.

It was always a 50/50 chance when you were that high.

"What is happening right now? Do you guys do this often?" Gareth was waking up at speeds entirely too fast for Eddie so he flapped his free hand at him, in what he hoped conveyed 'stop it you shit before Steve bolts like a deer.'

The younger man's eyes were certainly wide enough, his whole body tense. "I don't wanna disturb you guys. I um," Steve rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "--didn't know you had company, sorry Eddie."

Then, in a painfully awkward voice that made him want to take Steve and tuck him against his chest, added "Sorry Gareth."

"What are you apologizing to me for--oh my God do you think I'm boning this moron?" Gareth had finally shed the blankets, face shifting so quickly through emotions that Eddie couldn't help the giggle that escaped him.

"Be nice, Gary, god." He chided, through snickers, as if Gareth was teasing them and not asking a legitimate question. "Stevie, go grab that blunt I have on my dresser and come lay down."

"You are literally holding a lit blunt right now." Steve pointed out, cheeks fully inflamed with embarrassment and eyes stubbornly not looking at Gareth.

Who groaned and flopped face-first back down on the bed, apparently over this entire situation.

Eddie look down at his hand in mild surprise. "So I am!"

He put the blunt he found in-between his fingers to his lips, inhaling a lung full of smoke.

Held the blunt out, wiggling it at Steve when he just stood staring until Eddie exhaled.

Something in Steve's eyes changed, a glimpse of that painful, living wound of a secret he was hiding inside himself surfacing and Eddie automatically knew what caused it

"Gareth doesn't care that you're here, he's just not a morning person." Eddie explained gently, still holding out the joint.

Smiled encouragingly when Steve still looked unsure.

"Promise. You can chill here if you need too, Pop Culture. Neither of us will bite" Eddie made a come here gesture and was happy to watch as Steve hesitantly approached. "Well, at least we won't until you ask really nicely."

Then he winked because apparently shooting himself in the foot continued to be his default reaction to Steve Harrington.

Gareth said into his pillow; "No we fucking won't, you muppet."

It was muffled, so Eddie ignored it.

"If you're sure--" Steve muttered lowly, and they both ignored how clearly relieved he was.

Took the blunt with fingers that trembled ever so slightly.

Slowly, they passed the blunt back and forth a few times, Steve standing over Eddie.

Who enjoyed the way the younger man relaxed, inch by inch. Like the anxiety and stress was being exorcised out of him.

Couldn't see anything physically wrong for once, but knowing Steve Eddie wasn't at all positive he wasn't hiding some random, ridiculous wound on his torso somewhere.

Graciously, he gave Steve the last puff of the joint, waiting until Steve had stubbed it out and down in his ashtray before carefully touching his arm (above the wrist, with his hand clasping comically slow around his skin.)

Started tugging just as slowly when Steve figured out what he was doing.

Eddie grinned at the snort he got, as Steve gave in and reluctantly got into the bed, Eddie shoving Gareth practically into the wall to make room.

A loud, incomprehensible grumble erupted, but Gareth otherwise made no complaints as Steve tucked in.

The bed wasn't built for two people let alone three, meaning they all ended up practically on top of each other, but Eddie didn't mind.

Steve clearly didn't either, with how fast he dropped off to sleep, his body curling even further into Eddie's than it had before.

Best friend cuddling his back and Steve tucked against his front, Eddie happily nodded off, warm and content.

[skywlker-sluvtt]

jealousy angry sex to fluff what do you think I really love a jealous ani like in the clone wars

I adore jealous clone wars Anakin. The whole Padme and Clovis thing was just so 🤤 especially when Anakin beat the shit outta him. Here's a lil headcanon-y piece. I went a lil overboard but...I kinda like it 🫣 I hope you enjoy lovey.

Warnings: degrading, dirty talk, no protection (please be safe), spanking, possessive asf behaviour, and more 18+!!!

Word Count: 1.5k

༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹▫◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ

➮ Anakin is so vocally jealous. He’s a cocky ass hole and he will talk to the person flirting with you in the most condescending way ever and it gets on everyone’s nerves.

➮ He’s just so possessive of you and wishes you just wore a sticker on your shirt saying “Anakin’s my husband go away” so everyone fucks off. He also starts getting annoyed at you if you seem to be entertaining someone's flirtatious behaviour. Anakin’s watching you with some douchebag and he’s thinking “Yeah I bet that dick head can’t make you cum as good as I can” cause his mind goes straight to sex.

➮ It starts with his firm assertive ‘I’m the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy, fear me fucker’ voice. He stands up straight, with crossed arms and a clenched jaw as he storms over to retrieve you. (this part is incredibly sexy because he’s so hot and jealous)

➮ You can just feel the envy radiating off his body and you almost enjoy it. Anakin will make some shitty excuse to take you away making it somewhat obvious you’re his and only his. He’ll firmly grab your arm basically pulling you away from the guy. Anakin shares his partner with no one. If anyone is even talking to you with any kind of suggestive tone Anakin will go for their throat and sometimes it can be a little embarrassing if he makes it seem like you can’t take care of yourself.

➮ “Anakin! That was humiliating I can look out for myself I don’t need you constantly lurking around me asshole” You complain pacing your shared bedroom. “Oh I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of your new boyfriend,” He says sarcastically. “You possessive jealous little boy. Get over yourself” You roll your eyes frustrated with his behaviour, but knowing where it will get you is the real goal here 🤭

➮ “Possessive? I’ll show you possessive” He growls standing up and towering over you. His large muscular frame is just too much to deal with. He grabs your face gripping your jaw to make you look at him. “Do you not value my protection love?” He asks his eyes are dark with lust. “I don’t need you over my shoulder constantly” You huff. “You’re so naive Y/N” He states. You turn your head avoiding his dangerous gaze. “Darling, who do you belong to?” He asks in such a fake-sweet-sounding tone. This is when he decides he’ll just fuck the bratty attitude out of you. “I don’t belong to anyone” You reply. He scoffs before pressing a hard, lewd kiss to your lips.

➮ Knowing what’s coming next you return the kiss threading your fingers through his hair as you both fight for control in the kiss. His tongue dominates yours and he pulls away smirking. “Strip for me, then get on the bed” Anakin whispers lowly in your ear giving your ass a smack and you’re quick to do as he says. As you take your panties off he snatches them from you. “Hey!” You try to grab them back and he smirks. “I think I might keep these in case I have to gag you” He replies swinging them around his finger and making you turn bright red.

➮ He’s the kind of guy to act fake sweet and humiliate you before angry fucking you till you can’t cum anymore.

➮ Slowly, you get on the bed as he takes off his own robes. “Touch yourself” He states still standing at the end of the bed. “What?” You reply shocked by his request. “Touch. Your. Self. Don’t make me repeat myself” He says again as you hesitantly move your hand down to your dripping heat. Biting your lip you slowly begin to circle your swollen cunt and Anakin can’t help but smirk watching the way your eyebrows are drawn together and the breathy moans you let out. “For someone who doesn’t need me you’re soaked princess” He sneers coming even closer to you, his eyes trained on your pussy. “Not for you” You reply. “Really?” Anakin laughs. “Should I leave? Maybe I’ll find someone at a bar who wants me” He sighed getting up. “N-No, no Anakin I-I didn’t mean it,” You whine reaching up to grab his arm and pull him back.

➮ He puts you on your back and cages you between his arms. “That’s what I thought, you're just my needy little slut aren’t you,” He chuckled, the sound of his breathy laughter making you rub your thighs together in pleasure. “I am” You whimper pulling him down for kisses. You yelp as he flips you on your stomach and roughly squeezes your ass while kissing your neck and back. Anakin’s a sloppy messy bitch and decides to lick up your spine and make you squirm first. “Ass up,” He says firmly. You shift positions gently and he gives you a few hard spanks making you moan.

➮ “God you’re so easy,” He tells you grabbing your hips and pushing his hard cock inside of you. “You just love all this attention don’t you, is that why you flirt with these creeps? You’re an attention whore huh?” He asked. You stay silent and he grabs a handful of your hair tugging you upward and keeping your back to his chest. “Answer me” He whispers biting your earlobe. “Yes” Is all you whisper wiggling your hips desperate for him to move. “Please Ani” You continue before he lets you go and starts fucking you at a merciless pace letting out his pent-up anger on your tight pussy.

➮ You’re whining into a pillow moaning at how deep he is inside of you. Anakin’s hands gripping your hips, his cold metal hand probably leaving marks. “You like it when I fuck you, dumb sweetheart, I bet your boyfriend couldn’t make you feel this good” Anakin grins in your ear. “H-He’s not my b-b-boyfriend” You stutter barely being able to speak from pleasure. “I’m the only person that can turn you into such a dumb cock drunk whore” Anakin continues his dirty talk the whole time.

➮Then he reaches down and grabs your throat pulling you back into him. You let out a loud moan at the angle change and he’s holding you up tight against him while he’s fucking you. “Ani” You whimper and he gently squeezed your airway closed. “Good girl taking me so fucking well” He rasped. He lets go of your throat he uses that hand to play with your clit. “Tell me who owns this pretty little cunt baby” His sadistic grin is crazyyy. “You do Anakin! You” “Mhm yeah I do”

➮ “Please l-let me cum Ani I promise I’m yours all yours” You moan before he flips you on your back. Anakin loves the sight of you all messy and sweaty desperate for his dick. “Good girl, you are mine. You don’t need anyone else” He continues fucking back into you causing you to start scratching his back. “I’ll make sure they all fucking know your mine” He groans leaning down to suck the biggest, purple hickeys across your neck to get his point across. “Cum on my cock sweetheart,” He says licking across the marks. “Anakin! Oh, fuck Anakin” You moan coming undone around him quivering in ecstasy. “Mhm, baby I’m gonna cum so deep inside you, get you all p-pregnant with my child. No one will ever touch you if you see you big and fucking swollen with my baby” He growls before finishing deep inside of you.

➮ Afterwards he goes all soft on you. “I love you so much” He whispers so softly making you grin at his sudden change in tone. “You know that?” He asks. “Course I do…I love you too” Laying beside you he smiles and presses the softest kisses to your face. “Y’know I don’t mean any of that right?” He makes sure. “I know, it’s fun” You grin squeezing his bicep. “Let me get you cleaned up pretty girl” He grins.

➮ He’s quickly cleaning you up and getting you a cold glass of water. Eventually, you’re just cuddled up to his chest as he strokes your hair. “I’m sorry for getting so jealous. I just hate seeing other guys talk to you like that. I know you can handle yourself…I just like protecting you” He blushes. “It’s okay, I like how possessive you are Skywalker. It’s cute” “I’m not possessive, I just love you” Anakin whispers kissing your temple making you giggle. He he fully believes with his whole heart he is not possessive, but like bro he so is “Don’t laugh at me” He grins kissing his cheek. “Love you Ani…m’all yours,” You say softly. “I’m all yours too” Anakin replies pecking your lips once more.

[lovebugism]

Hi bug, could I request some teasing modern office stevie when he definitely should be concentrating on some important reports and not the pictures you’re sending him from the bathroom 💖

ty for requesting :D — steve is grumpy at the office halloween party until you spend him naughty pictures from the bathroom (modern!au, established relationship, smut 18+, 1.6k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

The company-wide Halloween party was a total bust.

Steve’s Top Gun leather jacket was cool and all, but now — eight hours into his shift — it feels slightly suffocating. It’s heavy and making him almost unbearably hot, but he can’t take it off, or his dad will lose his shit. 

Everyone had to dress up. That was the memo. It’s to boost company morale or whatever bullshit they’re spinning these days. Even the stuffy guys on the fiftieth floor are wearing their own fancy, half-assed costumes. 

Steve wasn’t much of a fan of the whole thing, especially not after he offered to match with you and you completely shut him down. “My dad already knows about us, babe!” he whined. “It’s not a big deal!”

You shot him your hardened, badass businesswoman stare that always seems to stop him in his tracks. “Your dad knowing isn’t even the half of it, Steve. I don’t want us to be the headline for office gossip for the next six months, alright?”

Going into his nine-to-five the day before Halloween, the only thing he was remotely excited about was seeing your costume. You rock a pencil skirt and blouse like you were made to do it, but fuck, he loves seeing you out of your work clothes.

And you were really fucking cute — Uma Thurman from Pulp Fiction, in one of his white button-ups, black slacks, and high heels. It isn’t overtly sexy, because it is an office party after all, but he’d stare at you all day if he could.

Screw the work, he wants to lay on the couch in your office and watch you in your element with his hand shoved down his pants.

His phone buzzes sharply beside him, knocking him out of his daydream. It’s a text notification from you — one image attachment, it reads. He’s already smiling like a teenage boy now that you’re talking to him. He’s been lonely all day without you. 

He taps the message with his thumb to open the text thread, even happier to find that it’s a picture of you.

You look like you’re in a bathroom stall — for privacy maybe, because you’re flashing him your lacy lingerie. Your blouse is unbuttoned at the top to reveal your black bra that’s mostly see-through. It’s a cup size or more too small for you, so the tops of your breasts spill slightly from the fabric. 

Don’t do this to me, he replies.

Do what? you ask.

Another picture comes right after. It’s from a higher-up angle, a much better view of your cleavage. You’re staring up at the camera with doe eyes that drive him crazy.

Steve shifts in his swivel chair, spine-tingling distantly with the subtle stiffening of his cock. He looks over both shoulders, just to make sure no one’s around to see the filth on his phone, then texts you back.

You know what, he types. Don’t start something you can’t finish.

You send him a third picture, smiling all innocent at the camera. Captioned beneath it reads, I don’t think I’m the one who needs to worry about finishing, Stevie.

Steve doesn’t bother replying this time. He clicks his phone off and readjusts his pants, rising from his desk and heading straight for the elevator.

—————

Standing at the row of pristine sinks, you wait for Steve’s response.

You knew he wasn’t having the greatest day. His dad’s been on his ass more than usual and you’re not the best at comforting him when you’re in work mode. So you step out of your comfort zone in attempts to cheer up your boyfriend, actively trying to be sexy.

But then he just leaves you on read, and now you’re spiraling in the women’s restroom.

What if he didn’t like it? your brain berates you. What if he thinks you’re trying too hard? What if he’s turned off by you?

You don’t get the chance to get embarrassed about it because Steve’s busting through the bathroom door a second later. You’re scared by the sudden intrusion, then halfway relieved, then utterly shocked.

“Steve— what are you doing in here? This is the women’s restroom!”

“Obviously,” the boy scoffs and locks the door behind him.

Your eyes are wide and wild when he turns back to face you. “What the hell are you doing?” you repeat, teeth gritted as you try your best to whisper.

His eyes sparkle with something honeyed and mischievous. He shrugs all boyish and corners you against the marble countertop. “Told you not to start something you couldn’t finish, remember?”

His palms spread wide and warm on your waist as he leans down to kiss you. You’re almost lost in him enough to let him. The logical part of your brain blares an alarm in your subconcious, and you hold him back before he can inch any further.

“No. Nope. We’re not doing this,” you announce with a shake of your head, to yourself more than anything.

Steve’s brows pinch. “Why not?”

You blink up at him for a moment, bemused by his confusion because the answer’s pretty obvious. “‘Cause we’re at work, Steven. That’s why.”

He always melts for you when you call him that.

“You’re hot when you’re mean, you know that?” he murmurs with a lopsided grin. 

He ducks down again, and you think he’s gonna kiss you. You’re about to fight him until his plush lips lock on your pulse point. You cave before you mean to, turning to marshmallow fluff in his hands. 

Steve maneuvers you onto the counter with a pair of strong hands. When he plants himself between your legs, his hard cock brushes your inner thigh. You have to remind yourself to breathe.

With a tongue tasting of nicotine and the chocolate-covered pretzels you made for the Halloween party, Steve kisses the air from your lungs. You’re happy without it. As long as it means he’ll keep touching you like he is now. 

His fingers fuss with the buttons of your shirt. He tries to kiss you and unclasp them at the same time, but realizes it’s halfway impossible. You feel each one pop pop pop when he all but rips at your collar.

“Hey— be gentle,” you scold, slurring slightly when you part from him. “I gotta work after this, you know?”

“Yeah, if I don’t take you home first.” His words are mumbled and nearly inaudible. You barely catch the last half of them because he’s burying his face in your chest. 

It’s nothing you’re not used to — he often jokes that your tits are his two favorite girls, a close second to you.

You weave your hands through his chopped cinnamon hair, keeping him pressed against you while he kisses and sucks at your breasts — over the sheer fabric of the lingerie you chose specifically for him. His tongue runs warm and wet over your clothed nipple. You fight back a shiver.

Drunk on him and his tender touches, you let him open you up with his fingers without any fuss. You let him push you to the brink of a spine-tingling orgasm and back again — only fussing a little about his teasing until he slips his cock into you.

Steve doesn’t mean to fuck you so gently in the work bathroom, but it’s in his nature to be soft with you. 

Even during quickies, he’s all but making love to you. He holds your lolling head in both his calloused palms, making sure your eyes stay on his while he punches into you. You’re pretty good at keeping your moans at bay, aside from a few measly whines he swallows when he kisses you. 

You compensate for your withheld noises by digging your nails into his shoulders. You’re pretty sure there’ll be crescent shapes in the leather of his jacket when he’s done with you.

The bathroom fills with the sounds of heavy pants, concealed moans, and the jingling of Steve’s belt buckle. He babbles sweet nothings into your neck, words slurred and muffled there. You’re not even sure he knows what he’s saying.

“It’s so good. You’re so fucking good— fuck, fuck, fuck,” he rambles, chopped through thrusts and heavy breaths. “Can’t fucking wait to show you off, you know that? Wanna tell everyone you’re mine.”

“I am yours,” you tell him, breathless and with a whimper trapped in your throat. His cock pierces you mercilessly. The pressure on your clit is relentless. “Always been yours.”

And if he wasn’t about to burst already — you tell him this, and he’s a fucking goner. His hips stutter almost instantly. His whine swells in the bathroom, mostly muffled into your neck. He spits several loads of warm cum into you and sends you absolutely gushing.

And like the gentlemen he is, he fucks you stupid and cleans you up right after.

He chucks the wet paper towel in the bin and asks you, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” you repeat, legs still hanging over the counter, tingling with numbness.

“When you— you know, when you said you were mine?”

You shrug with an air of absentmindedness. “Of course.”

“I just… We never made anything official, and I didn’t know if… I don’t know— if you were seeing someone else or whatever.”

“Your dad knows we’re fucking, so I think we’re pretty much official now,” you tease, giggling and sliding your panties back into place. You hop off the counter to put your slacks back on. Steve fusses with his belt.

“Guess so,” he laughs back.

“And I don’t plan on seeing anyone else for the foreseeable future,” you confess, smiling shyly and tilting your head to your shoulder. “Just so you know.”

Steve’s suddenly smiling, crooked and boyish and pink. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t either.”

“Good,” you hum with a similar grin.

“Good.”

He kisses you again — ‘cause he can do that now, considering you’re finally official and everything. It’s a too sweet peck compared to how sinfully he was fucking you just minutes ago. 

He pulls back from you with furrowed brows.  “Does that mean we can tell people about—”

“Absolutely not, Steve Harrington.”

[hqnqm1]

Could I request a nishinoya x reader soulmate au?

fated by thread; from me to you

nishinoya yū x GN!reader

A/N: this took way too long sorry 😥. kinda ooc noya? my first fic so might suck booty, not proofread

“why are you the odd one out?”

it’s a question you’ve been asked your whole life. everyone was fated with the red string of fate, including you. everyone had always found their fated person on the other end of the string. everyone except you. so how come everyone was falling in love, but you’re falling behind?

“the red string of fate is a phenomenon in which soulmates by fate are connected to another by a red thread that is tied around their pinkies. this thread is dull but starts to glow once the pair find each other. sometimes, you may feel your partner moving based on tugging on your pinky. this is an indication that your soulmate is nearby. it is the persons choice if they want to cut their thread for any reason to withdraw pining over their fated soulmate. once cut, the string becomes dull again. this does not affect anything, but is a sign of rejection. this can be undone if the person reties their string with genuine feelings, as their thread can glow again” you read out the information on the book somehow hoping that soon, your ribbon will glow too.

“gah” you grunt out in discomfort. ever since the school year started again, you’ve been feeling constant tugs at my pinky finger. “does my soulmate really like to bother me that much?” you thought.

you gently examine your finger and caress it.

“you alright?” a voice appears suddenly causing you to jump on the spot. you turn to see that it’s your friend, hinako.

“what the hell? you scared me” you lightly berate your friend following a short chuckle.

“sorry~ anyway. are you still up to join a club? i hear it’s mandatory according to the student council” the brunette girl casually speaks.

“i’m not interested…” you bashfully respond.

“well, you’ll have to find a club soon. i suggest you manage the guy’s soccer team! the guys are so hot.” hinako enthusiastically adds as she gives a playful smirk.

“yeah they’re hot, but the soccer team is full of stuck up, filthy rich brats…” you scoff.

“oh! what about the yearbook committee?” she suggests.

“that’s for nerds” you joke slightly to light up the mood.

“oh? then, as a last result, all i can think of is.. the manager for the guy’s volleyball team!” she exclaims excitedly.

stuck in a few thoughts, she continues her sentence with a dreamy expression. “i hear that the guys are so fine… and their manager is stunning too…”

“shimizu? like, the kiyoko shimizu? she’s the manager isn’t she? she’s gorgeous. maybe i can consider it” you take the opportunity into thought. after all, you used to play volleyball until the accident.

_________________________________

you’ve waited hours since that conversation from lunchtime and now you’re currently outside the school gym during after school hours, awaiting the third-year beauty. after what seemed like hours, she finally arrived, looking as stunning as ever.

“hello. i assume you’re here to visit?” a soothing, calm voice projects from kiyoko’s mouth as she radiates a small but welcoming smile.

“o-oh! yes! i’m here to try out for the manager” you blurt out suddenly as your face grows a furious red of embarrassment.

with no ill intent, kiyoko lightly giggles and beckons you to come inside the gym.

inside, you take in the vision of the nets that can easily loom over anyone, the scoreboards, the varnished wooden floors and not to mention, the fine guys.

one by one, they line up. you couldn’t help but find how breathtaking these men were.. that was until.. a special one showed up. black, spiked up hair with a highlighted strand at the front. he wore an orange uniform instead of karasuno’s standard black uniform for home games, indicating that he played libero. sure, he wasn’t the tallest, but did his pretty face make up for it.

that’s when it hit you. your thread ignited in a beautiful crimson luminescence.

in that moment, your heart thumps and throbs, your eyes widen, and you stare in awe. he’s your soulmate?

at first you thought he was approaching you, which made you freeze out of anxiety, thinking about the words to say when he approaches. instead he ran towards kiyoko instead with his friend with a shaven head. you can see kiyoko’s unimpressed demeanour around the two boys as they attempt to woo her.

then he turns to you.

“we must be the luckiest guys in the world, tanaka. to be blessed with these absolutely stunning people to keep coming to us! whatcha here for?” the shorter man smirks flirtatiously. in some way, it made you uncomfortable, but in another way, it made you feel appreciated and loved knowing that this man is your soulmate.

“well, i’m here to have a visit. i’m considering on becoming the next manager for the club” you respond with a constant consciousness to stay calm.

“you hear that nishinoya? they’re gonna be our manager! that’s great. what’s your name, hun?” tanaka asks with that musk voice of his.

“so that’s his name, huh” you thought.

your pulse races and you desperately try to keep your cool. clearly, the facade is breaking by each passing second.

“(name). pleasure to meet you” you hold your hand out.

in that moment, you see nishinoya’s eyes widen the moment he sees that the red threads connect. to your dismay, he doesn’t say a word and looks… disappointed.

he quickly shakes your hand then goes back to training as if the red string was nothing to him. you stand there dumbfounded and hurt. you found your fated mate and this is how the first meeting goes?

he continues to train and even after that disappointing exchange, you couldn’t help but fall in love with him more.

_____________________________________

successfully, you were able to become the manager of the karasuno boy’s volleyball team alongside kiyoko. spring tournament was approaching and you worked hard to prepare the boys for their important event.

training had ended already, the gym was empty, but, the only people that were filling the room were you and nishinoya.

“hey, can you pepper with me? i need to practise my digs” the libero asks you with an aloof and indifferent expression.

you haven’t played in a while ever since the accident that had injured your ankle. you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him, but you didn’t want to reject his offer either. so you transported the basket of volleyballs. you start with a few quick shoulder warm ups, then you toss a volleyball upwards and spike it towards him.

the libero messes up his dig as the ball flies in the opposite direction. he lets out a snarky smirk.

“not bad. you’ve definitely played before” nishinoya retorts and he motions for you to keep going.

the little pepper session got more competitive. when the ball was set to him, he decided to do a feint and tipped the ball causing you to attempt a dive for the ball.

during the moment, unfortunately, you tore a ligament in your ankle from a past injury and you let out a scream of pain.

nishinoya’s stoic and indifferent attitude had dropped once seeing you injured.

“hey! wait! do you need me to take you to the infirmary?” his brows furrow in concern and he runs up to you, examining your ankle.

“yes… it’s just from a past injury..” you wince through the discomfort.

“is it alright if i guide you to the infirmary?” nishinoya asks in a gentle tone.

“that isn’t necessary…” you say bashfully although deep inside you clearly want him to be close to you.

“seriously, (name). you’re injured and you can’t walk” he responds, holding your hand to help you up. that strong, pulsating sensation in your chest appears again as your cheek grow faintly pink. he gently takes your arm to sling it around his shoulder as he guides you to the infirmary.

as he walks you there he makes a comment that flusters you.

“i can’t believe i get to touch the most stunning being i’ve seen right now” he proudly comments, making you flush red in embarrassment.

“hey wait! that was so uncalled for!” you chuckle.

little did you know that he never meant those words.

____________________________________

tournaments finished and unfortunately, they came runner-up to the winners. currently, you’re at the back of the sendai gym, comforting a weeping noya who has his knees tucked to his head.

“hey? noya, you worked hard and did the best you could. that’s more than enough okay? you did your best and i’m so proud of you for that. you know what? one competition doesn’t define who you are.. to me, you’re hardworking, amazing and you always try your best.. this competition may have ended up with you and the guys in second place, but to me, you’re always my number one-“

“I DON’T NEED YOUR PITY OKAY!? THIS? THIS IS JUST STUPID! STOP BABYING ME! YOU JUST WANT MY ATTENTION BECAUSE WE’RE SOULMATES, YEAH? WHY DO YOU THINK I NEVER TALK ABOUT IT HUH? IT’S BECAUSE I HATE THE FACT THAT YOU’RE MY SOULMATE! I WISHED IT WAS SOMEONE ELSE! SOMEONE BETTER, LIKE KIYOKO!” noya snaps out of a fit of rage, leaving you dumbfounded and processing his words. it slowly eats you up and shatters you as you watch him storm away in anger. that was the last time you talked to him until the end of the year.

_____________________________________

it was one of the last training sessions of the year and you carried the tub of the club member’s water bottles to refill them with yamaguchi. the two of you walk towards the back of the gym and hear an exchange going on…

“why wont you go out with me? i did everything for you!” nishinoya cries out in a pained expression.

“i’m sorry, we aren’t meant to be.. i’ve already found my soulmate and it isn’t you.. i hope you find the one you truly love and i hope they make you happier” kiyoko replies with remorse and pity.

“but… it’s you i want… not anyone else… i’ve already cut my red string just to be with you” a gasp falls from kiyoko’s and a eavesdropping yamaguchi’s mouth from nishinoya’s revelation.

for them, it was jaws that fell in surprise, but for you, it was tears that fell in heartbreak. you already knew he despised you ever since the tournament but this? this is too far. your true soulmate had cut the thread and denied you for another woman. you walk away in pain.

“why can’t he just love me back?” you thought.

_____________________________________

you were now in third year, studying hard just to get into your dream university.

lately, you’ve been getting snacks, poems, keychains, plushies galore stuffed in your locker, but never once have you found out who’s been behind all this.

you’ve noticed small blonde hair strands on the plushies. could this be from tsukishima? no, he’s way too cold to like anyone. either way, he’s a jerk so nobody would like him back. but then there were also jet black hairs on the other few gifts. could this be a case of a love triangle where you’re being pined by your juniors, both tsukishima and kageyama? impossible.

but you did know someone that had both hair colours on his head… you didn’t want to assume it was him, and it had been a while since you thought about the man that hurt you.

it was a rainy afternoon and you had just finished tutoring. on the way home, you were considering cutting your part of the thread off. you believed that it wouldn’t matter if the love was unrequited.

you hold your umbrella out to prevent the rain getting to you as you walk down the wet street, the sound of rain hitting the concrete lingering in your ears.

a tap on your shoulder could be felt and you turn around. it’s nishinoya yuu. he looks disheveled and somewhat remorseful? is he here to apologise?

“may i help you?” you ask with a slight pettiness.

“hey, uh… i hoped you liked the gifts i’ve been leaving in your locker… i don’t know if it’s too late for this, but i took you for granted okay? those sweet and genuine words of yours, your consideration for others, the way you care for everyone around you, your kind and gentle demeanour… i can’t help but have fallen in love with it all… especially that one time, those words you said in the tournament got me by, and i just couldn’t accept your love because i was such a jerk and was blind to your love. i want to love you like how you loved me.. i’m so sorry i didn’t treat you like the royalty you should’ve been treated like. i don’t expect you to forgive me after what i did, but will you give me a chance to make it up to you..?” he asks with genuine remorse and regret. he looks you in the eyes with glossy tears threatening to fall down.

you see that he has also attempted to mend the red thread by retying it into a cute bow to try and rekindle what once was. you let out a small smile before you respond.

“maybe i’ll give it another go”

______________________________________

you wake up. was it just a dream? is he really not yours? was it too good to be true?

you look around your room and… ah yes, you see your husband, nishinoya, beside you snoring and sleeping… not so gracefully. but regardless of that, he’s yours, you’re his, and beside your shared bed, resides the crib holding your twin infants, a result of the love you two shared. it seems that the dream was a memory of how it all started.

slowly, your husband stirs awake.

“my love? you’re up early” noya stretches his limbs from his slumber and following that, your children start to yawn and stretch out. he reaches for your hands as your fingers intertwine with his, the red string glowing stronger than ever. you smile gently as you plant a short but loving kiss on his soft lips. you then speak up.

“remember how we first met?”

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

No. 32 "you wanna have sex with me?" for nick torres would be AMAZING xx

Nick Torres: You Wanna Have Sex With Me Prompt 

I had a lot of fun with this. I hope it is what you want and that you enjoyed it! Thanks for the request. 

It had been a high-stress situation. You were a computer geek, not a field agent. Getting shot at was even more terrifying than you could have ever imagined. You were also convinced that Nick Torres was certifiably insane and a complete adrenaline junkie. He had been calm, cool, and collected after tackling you to the ground when the first shot had been fired. He had got you both to a safe location and didn’t seem worried in the slightest. He had called for backup and returned fire.  

You were trying to keep your cool, but you couldn’t stop your mouth from running. It was an endless stream of thoughts that were falling out of your lips. Nick didn’t seem to be paying you any attention as he took control of the situation. “I thought this would all end in us hooking up and never speaking again not dead from a shootout.”  

Nick fired another shot before what you said registered. He turned to look at you incredulously. "Wait, you wanna have sex with me?” 

“That’s what you're focusing on right now?” You could understand his confusion, you hadn’t exactly shown your interest. You could be on the shyer side and Nick Torres was a fine specimen and unbelievably cocky. You had known plenty of guys like him in high school. Guys like him didn’t have an interest in nerdy girls like you. It made it hard for you to talk to him. It didn’t matter that he had been nothing but nice to you and encouraging you to be open and relaxed with him. You would blame your outburst on your own adrenaline pumping through your veins. 

Nick starts to say something, but you don’t catch what is over a car pulling up and shouting of “NCIS drop your weapons!” 

»»----------► 

You feel relief as you walk back into your office, but there is something else too. You somehow know that something has changed in you. This whole case had been far outside your comfort zone but... it had helped give clarity to why so many people liked fieldwork. A certain something was intoxicating about it. Or perhaps you were already missing the company you had been keeping.  

There is a soft patterned knock on your open door. It is as if your thoughts had summoned him. “So, it didn’t end with death from a shootout.” You feel your cheek warm with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry, I had complete confidence in you.” His grin gets cocky, clearly enjoying the praise. The man's ego had no end.  

“As good as it is to hear, that’s not why I’m here.” You look at him questioningly. Unsure if you had forgotten to sign something or fill out a report. “I wanted to see how you wanted your fieldwork story to end.” You think he is teasing you about your earlier statement but there is something in his eyes. The tension in the room is thick. You lick your lips and consider what you should say. Maybe it is the leftover adrenaline that has you saying, 

“I already told you how I wanted it to end.” He pulls the door closed and flips the lock. In a blur, you find yourself in a heated kiss. His mouth is hot and demanding. He is in control of like at the shootout. His hands slip under your clothes tearing them off your body. Your eager hands do the same relieving him of his shirt and then working on his belt buckle. He lifts you onto your desk and papers fly as you rock against him, your old desk wobbling on the uneven floor. 

He enters you in a single thrust not waiting for you to adjust to his notable size. You bite into his neck to stop the load moan and he hisses. The sex is much like him; fast, rough, and hot but with control and precision that was unexpected as much as it pleasurable. His thrusts are measured, and his hand mouth explores and conquers your valleys and curves. He pays special attention to your breasts and neck.  

Your hands roam his back and thread through his hair. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot that makes you cry out a little too loud to be safe, he focuses on it. He rolls his hips at a steady and unrelenting pace. It makes you claw at his hips urging him to continue his brutal but toe-curling assault. You can feel your orgasm building up to its bursting point and only have time to stifle your scream into his throat as your release washes through you. Your arms and thighs tighten around him.  

He fucks you through your orgasm one hand on your hip and the other in the hair at the nape of your neck to hold you still. You become boneless and melt into him letting him take what he needs. His pace becomes sloppy, and you suck at his neck as he finally hits his own orgasm filling the condom with his seed. You both hold each other sharing air as you catch your breath. “I like your ending,” He whispers against your lips giving you a last lingering kiss. You feel something drag across the skin on your thigh. “Well almost, anyways.” 

On your thigh, he wrote his phone number in bright red ink.  

[triscribe]

The Magic Trousers

(So I'm trying to come up with something to submit for a magazine's flash fiction competition, and while I don't think this is going to be it, I don't want to just lose it in my folders either. Hope you guys enjoy)

The third time her little brother turned up with blood on his face, Alene decided she needed to do something about it.

Not that Elber ever came out and said, but she knew good and well who bloodied his nose, who split his lip. Less than twenty kids lived in their village, but even out of a hundred, two hundred, a thousand, she’d have no trouble knowing who did it.

“I'm fine,” Elber tried to protest, when she sat him down and cleaned him up. “You don’t have to-”

“I do have to,” huffed Alene. “Just you and me now, and old Nana, but she’s too blind to do this anyhow. So hush up and sit still.”

She tended to her brother, warm water and a soft cloth and a dab of salve to speed along his healing. Then Alene sat him down next to her, and made the boy hold a ball of rough yarn as she pulled from it. Back and forth, across their mother’s old loom. Back and forth, click-clack, back and forth.

And she told Elber, “You know there used to be witches in our family?” Her brother’s eyes went wide. “Good witches, who cast their spells on tyrants and bullies, taught them harsh lessons so they’d leave the smallfolk who lived under them alone. Once, there was a witch who went to a king’s castle, pulling an empty cart like it was full and heavy. And she told everyone along the way, whether they asked or not, that she’d brought a gift: magic cloth made on a magic loom, enchanted so only wise and worldly people could see it.”

“...what’s ‘worldly’ mean?”

“Means you know what’s what,” Alene explained. “And nobody she told wanted to admit they didn’t, so instead they all went ‘oh, of course, what lovely cloth’. All the way through the castle, and to the king, who didn’t want anyone thinking he was stupid either, so he agreed to pay the witch to turn the magic cloth into robes for him to wear.”

Elber’s eyes got even wider. “But- there wasn’t any cloth?”

“Not a single thread. Speaking of, I’m almost done with this, go get me Momma’s old sewing kit.”

She finished telling her brother the story while putting her lengths of fabric together, skipping more stitches than not. About how the witch put on a great show, going through the motions and chanting in a strange tongue, until she announced the robes were ready, lighter than air and softer than a cloud. The king immediately put on his new outfit to show off, going up and down his whole castle, then out of it entirely to parade through the nearest village. But only the castle folk knew what the witch said about her magic cloth - the villagers didn’t. They saw the king prancing about in his small clothes, and one by one everybody started laughing, more and more until you could hear sound for miles around. The king tried to wave it off, tried to insist not a one of them was wise enough to see his wonderful magic robes.

But he still went back to his castle awfully embarrassed.

By the end of her story, Alene held up a pair of simple, homespun trousers, nothing odd to be seen. That night, after the whole village went to sleep, she stole out of her family’s home and over to another house, switching the trousers with another pair, not a soul aware of what she’d done.

Well. None besides Elber. And the next morning, when the blacksmith’s son promised to punch him in the face again, Alene’s little brother did exactly as she’d told him: he pointed at the bigger boy and yelled that the Old Magic punished bullies for their crimes, along with a few made-up words for good measure.

All the other kids jeered. And the blacksmith’s son did what he always did: he picked up one foot to brace against the nearest wall, posing like a hero out of a storybook.

And his trousers promptly came apart at the seams.

Alene, walking by with her market basket as laughter erupted, hid a smirk all the way home.

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Thanks (m, cold)

Hi guys, thank you again for voting on which scenario you wanted to see for this fic! It's a bit of a slow burn, and idk how I feel about the ending, but Elijah is staunchly miserable by the end so hopefully that makes y'all happy 😅 let me know if you like it 🫶

Ps I've been writing this for literally the past 12 hours so I cannot look at it anymore, I'll read it over and edit errors in the morning but I need to get it out before it drives me insane lmao. 5.5k words under the cut :)

CW: male snz, colds, coughing, fever, contagion

There was nothing quite as depressing, Elijah decided, as the days leading up to Thanksgiving dinner service in a restaurant. Well, unless you were Greyson.

“Goooood morning, boss! Two days til the Big Day; are you pumped?”

Elijah turned his chair slowly towards the door, where the chef stood grinning unironically. He thought, not for the first time, that Greyson was likely some sort of dog in a past life – a golden retriever, or possibly a lab. One of those ‘no thoughts, just vibes’ dogs.

“Am I pumped?” Elijah asked, glaring at Greyson. “For a day that should be spent drinking shitty beer and eating my weight in carbs spent instead putting on a fake smile for people who don’t even think of us as human? For people who go out to eat literally once a year, and make sure they do it on a holiday so they can feel powerful by forcing a restaurant to serve them, then complain about the price and stiff my servers? Am I pumped to barely break even, even though the restaurant will be packed from ten am until close, because those same people staunchly refuse to pay more than eighty bucks a head to stuff themselves silly? Am I pumped to listen to my staff complain all day, despite the fact that when each of them was hired, they were told in no uncertain terms that they would be working holidays?” Elijah clicked his pen closed loudly, stood to let Greyson through, and sat with him in tandem, his face set in anger the whole time. “No, Grey. I am not, in fact, pumped.”

Greyson broke their eye contact to wake his computer, the lecture obviously unexpected. “Clearly I should’ve read the room before opening my mouth,” he said, glancing back over at his boss briefly. “My bad, boss.”

Elijah, embarrassed that he’d let himself sink into such a state about something as stupid as a holiday service, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Fuck. Sorry, Grey. You just caught me at a bad moment. I had two servers call out for today, I’m fuckin’ sweating because we really need everyone here for Thursday and neither of them are sure they’ll be good to come back in two days.”

“Hmm,” Greyson hummed, his eyebrows threading together. “That’s weird. I had Victor and Elise call out on my way in.”

Elijah felt his heart thump in his temple. “Did they say why?”

“I didn’t ask,” Greyson said, turning his chair to face his boss. “But I guess I should’ve. Did the servers say why they couldn’t come in?”

“Some sort of fever-cold thing, is what Jason said he had. Ashley just said she felt like shit.” Elijah pressed his fingers into his eye and sighed. “I need a cigarette. Care to join?”

Greyson, never one to turn down nicotine in any form, stood from his chair. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said.

The two of them walked through the empty kitchen in silence, Elijah entirely too wrapped in his own thoughts to continue their conversation. There was an ongoing joke, a trope, at this point, about holidays in the restaurant; everyone was always sick for them. Last Easter, the servers all had bronchitis, and a couple of Valentine’s days ago, Greyson had so many cooks call out with the stomach flu that they’d had to hire last-minute temps to fill in on the line. Despite doing nearly 300 covers, they barely made enough to cover the immense labor that seven temps on a holiday cost.

“Lij,” Greyson said as the two of them stepped out the back door and sat on the milk crates littering the loading dock, “it’s not going to be like Valentine’s. I can see your fuckin’ gears turning.” The chef pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, handed his boss one, and lit them both up. “Relax.”

Silence, once again, fell upon them as they smoked and watched fat snowflakes disintegrate on the asphalt. Elijah hoped that Greyson was right, that everything would be fine and he was overreacting – but he knew better than to hope. More likely than not, it was going to be what it always was on holidays: a shit show.

Matt and Mark, hand-in-hand until they spotted their bosses by the door, turned the corner and waved to their counterparts in tandem like well-trained circus animals. Elijah couldn’t help but smile as their fingers unwove from one another.

“Morning,” Elijah called, stubbing out his cigarette. Greyson did the same, and the two of them stood to let the younger men into the building.

“Aren’t you freezing?” Mark asked rubbing his hands together as he pushed the door open. Elijah shrugged as he held the door open for the other two and walked in behind them.

“My rage keeps me warm,” he said, prompting a laugh from Greyson and an eye roll from the younger men. “How’re you guys?”

Mark shot a look at Matt as they all walked towards the office at the front of the kitchen. “I’m well,” he said, pointedly. Elijah nearly stopped in his tracks when he glimpsed Matt glaring at his boyfriend.

“Matt…?” Greyson asked, an attempt at giving his sous chef a get-out-of-jail-free card. There was silence as the three of them turned, expectantly, towards Matt.

“I’mb good,” the sous said, his voice cracking on the second syllable. Elijah audibly groaned, Mark winced, and Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity.

“Well, you certainly sound great,” Greyson said, palming Matt’s shoulder aggressively. “Would you like to go home and sleep that off?”

“Yes, he -”

“Ndo,” Matt said, cutting Mark off and shooting him a look. “I wandt to help prep.I’mb – hh! hh’NGTSH-uh!” Matt turned and pulled his coat up over the bottom half of his face to sneeze, then quickly gathered himself and stood up straight. “I’mb fine,” he said, convincing no one.

Elijah closed his eyes briefly and sighed through his nose; fortunately or unfortunately, he knew exactly why Matt hadn’t called off.

The week prior, Elijah and Greyson had dolled out raises and bonuses for the staff; this year was Matt’s fifth as sous chef. Greyson had basically written a dissertation of why his sous chef should be given a new title – Executive Sous – along with a significant raise and bonus. It hadn’t taken much convincing; Elijah knew exactly how hard Matt worked, and staying at the same restaurant as a sous chef for five years was nearly unheard of in this city, especially for someone as young as Matt. He and Greyson had agreed that Matt’s loyalty to the restaurant deserved to be compensated, and had surprised him before his day off with the new title and pay.

Matt had been surprised – shocked was probably a better word for it, honestly – and had confided in Elijah after Greyson had dipped early to meet up with a date that he felt like he didn’t deserve the raise.

“You do,” Elijah had said, laughing lightly. “We wouldn’t have given it to you if you didn’t deserve it.”

The younger man had shaken his head. “I just… I mean, Greyson is here way more than me. I get two days off mostly, and he doesn’t let me work longer than ten hours. And I love it here, you guys don’t need to, like, worry about me leaving if that’s what this is about.”

Elijah had given Matt a confused look. “Greyson should be here more than you, first of all he’s a partner, not just the chef, and secondly, he gets paid very well to be here eighty hours a week. That’s his choosing. You’re his employee – if you were here as much as he was and getting paid significantly less, that wouldn’t be fair. And we’re glad you love it here, but that’s not why we gave you the raise. We gave it to you because you’re a hard worker, and you deserve to be compensated for what you do.” Elijah had smiled at Matt, patted his knee, and finished with, “Don’t sell yourself short.”

Matt had just smiled back and nodded, but Elijah knew he hadn’t changed his mind about ‘being undeserving’. Elijah knew, via background checks that were performed by his off-site HR company, and via Mark being a blabbermouth the second he got a glass of wine in him, that Matt had been a bit of a troubled kid; he’d been bounced from one foster home to another as a kid, and then one juvenile detention hall to another as a teenager. Only when he’d dropped out of high school and gotten a job as a dishwasher at a Denny’s did he finally decide it was time to shape up. He’d worked his way into the diner’s kitchen, then a slightly nicer kitchen, and when he was 20, he’d shown up at the front door of Elliot’s in an ill-fitting suit with a speech about how he was ready to work somewhere that he could hone his passion, even if they couldn’t pay him a dime. Greyson had hired him on the spot, not even consulting Elijah, despite only having been the executive chef for a few months.

Elijah knew Matt felt that he owed Greyson, not the other way around, and this promotion and raise was the nail in that coffin of doubt. He knew there was no way Matt would go home, no matter how shitty he felt.

Greyson just shrugged at his sous chef’s denial of being sick. “If you want to stay, I’m not going to make you leave,” he said, walking into the office and changing from his sweatshirt into his chef’s coat. “Just don’t sneeze on the food.”

Matt rolled his eyes and stripped off his jacket to put his own chef’s coat on. “Yes, Chef,” he said, coughing into his elbow. Mark and Elijah exchanged sidelong looks.

“Are you feeling okay?” Elijah asked his junior manager. Mark smirked, hiked his laptop bag further onto his shoulder, and started towards the dining room – his makeshift office.

“Never better, boss,” he said, pushing through the swinging doors. “Never better.”

***

“So, is he coming in tomorrow?”

Greyson lolled his head to the side, hands still on his keyboard, and deadpanned Elijah. “The fuck do you think?”

Elijah pulled a hand down his face and nodded. “Yeah, okay, just wanted to check.”

While Matt had been relatively fine the first few hours of the shift, by the time the last guests had eaten, the sous had been so staunchly miserable that Greyson had marched his ass into the office, thrown his jacket over his shoulders, and pointed towards the back door. “Go. Home. Now.”

“Chef, I – HTSHH! Hh-! GTSH-uh!” Matt wrenched to the side, collapsing into a post-sneeze coughing fit that made the cooks flinch from five yards away.

“You’re not fine,” Greyson insisted. “You’re sick, and you’re going to get everyone else sick.”

Matt nodded, miserable, and hung his head. “Sorry, Chef,” he muttered, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Go,” Greyson said. “And come back when you’re well.”

Mark had taken Matt home in an Uber, and the cooks and servers had been able to leave relatively early, which left Elijah, Greyson, and a bottle of whiskey between them on the desk to figure out how they were going to handle the rest of the week.

Greyson sighed and reached for the bottle as he pushed away from his computer screen. He took a long pull and handed the bottle to Elijah, who followed suit. “I just… I don’t understand why he’d come in that sick,” Greyson said, pulling his hair to the top of his head and securing it with a rubber band from their drawer of office supplies. Elijah had to pull the bottle away from his lips to laugh. “What?” Greyson asked.

“You, of all people, can’t understand why he came in sick?” Elijah asked, incredulous. “You?”

“What do you mean me?” Greyson asked, snatching the bottle back. “If anything, he learned it from watching you.”

“Oh, spare me, Greyson,” Elijah rolled his eyes. “For awhile there, you literally came in sick three weeks a month.”

Greyson scoffed. “At least I’ve never passed out on the kitchen floor.”

“Yes, you have.”

“No, I almost passed out. You actually fuckin’ swooned. Collapsed in a puddle. Full damsel in distress.” Greyson took another pull and placed the bottle back on the desk. “So don’t come for me unless I send for you.”

Elijah guffawed at this. “Who taught you that saying?” he asked. Greyson shrugged.

“I heard one of the servers using it. I like it.”

“The servers are twenty years old, you dinosaur. The last thing they want is Grandpa Greyson using their jargon.”

“Fuck off, if anyone here is a grandpa it’s…” Greyson stopped suddenly, held up a finger, let his eyes flutter shut, then let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, that’s annoying.” He rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, then raised an eyebrow at his boss, whose face had drawn into concern. “What?”

“What was that?” Elijah asked, glancing over at the bottle of whiskey they’d spent the past hour sharing.

“I just thought I was going to – oh,” Greyson’s eyes widened. “No, dude, relax, I’m totally fine. I feel great.”

“‘Buzzed’ and ‘great’ are two different things, Grey,” Elijah said. He reached up to feel Greyson’s forehead, prompting the chef to lean back in his chair.

“Great as in healthy,” he insisted, shooing Elijah’s hand away. “Seriously, I’d let you know if I – HRRTSHHH-ue!” He caught the sneeze in his elbow – barely – and choked back an irritated cough. From the crook of his arm, he heard Elijah swear.

“I’m going to end your fuckin’ life, I swear to God,” Elijah muttered, pushing the bottle further onto Greyson’s side of the desk. “You let me drink from the same bottle as you, you dick.”

“I’m fine, Elijah, Christ it was one sneee – hh! - hh…” Greyson tipped his head back in anticipation, then lowered and shook it when the feeling once again dissipated. “See? Totally fine.” He sniffled – convincing, Grey – and immediately changed course. “Plus, it’s alcohol. It’s an antiseptic.”

“It one million percent is not,” Elijah said, rubbing his temples in defeat. “Greyson, you cannot be sick. We cannot be sick. How the hell are we going to be able to run Thanksgiving?”

“Elijah,” Greyson said, “listen. I am fine. Everything is going to be just fi – ITSHH-ue!” Greyson pitched forward into his palm and cringed. Elijah, begrudgingly, slammed the box of tissues they kept on a side table in front of the chef.

“Bless you,” he said while Greyson cleaned himself up. “And, I mean this from the bottom of my heart: fuck. You.”

***

“Hhh-! Huh… hnnn.”

“Bless you.”

“Oh, screw you, Lij,” Greyson muttered for the millionth time that day. He grabbed what felt like his hundredth tissue and blew his nose – only for the feeling to reignite. “Huhhh! Hhh...hh… guhh.” Greyson rubbed his nose again and angrily spiked the tissue into the trash can beneath his prep station.

“Bless you,” Elijah said again, mocking.

“You kndow,” Greyson said, turning towards his boss, who was seated in the office, not looking Greyson’s way. “Karma is going to combe for you for being an asshole to mbe.”

At this, Elijah glanced towards Greyson. “Karma? No, karma is having a cold and not being able to sneeze because you let your friend drink out of the same bottle as you when you knew you were getting sick. That’s karma, and you got what was coming to you.”

“Fuuhhh! Huh! Hh...fuck,” Greyson grumbled, coughing into his shoulder.

“Karma is also giving your sous chef a lecture about being sick at work, only to be get sick and have to come into work because you’re technically the most well of all the sick cooks and chefs.”

“Are you finished?” Greyson asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I get it. And to be fair, I did ndot kndow I was getting sick.” The chef sucked in painfully through his nose and collapsed into coughs once again.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah mumbled. When it seemed like Greyson wasn’t going to be able to stop the coughing, he took pity and got up to make the chef tea.

“Here,” Elijah said, slamming a paper cup in front of Greyson. “Drink it. Sickie.”

Greyson, unable to come up with a proper comeback, just did as he was told. “How mbany on the books tonight?” he croaked. Elijah sighed, pulled up his phone, and slid it towards Greyson. “Fuck,” Greyson said when he saw the number.

“All the people in the city who aren’t coming in tomorrow decided tonight was the night, apparently,” Elijah said, taking his phone back and putting it in his pocket. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, in earnest.

Greyson nodded. “It’s ndot too bad,” he said, taking another sip of tea. “Just wish I could fuckigg sndeeze.”

Elijah huffed out a laugh. “You’re sure you don’t want to call Matt in?”

“Definitely no – hh! Huh...hhhITSHHHZUE! Oh thank fuckigg God – HUHHESTCH-ue! Hh! Hnn...HuhhhETSCHH-ue! HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah whistled, long and low, and pushed the box of tissues towards Greyson. “Wow,” he said. “Bless.”

Greyson rolled his eyes as he took a handful of tissues and cleaned himself up. “See?” he said once he’d thrown them away and washed his hands, “Good as new. HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah chuckled. “Sure, Chef,” he said, moving towards the doors to the dining room. “Whatever you say.”

***

In his thirty-nine years on earth, Elijah had learned a lot about himself. He’d learned that he was a hothead, and he had to really think about the repercussions of what was going to come out of his mouth if he wanted to keep the person he was talking to in his life. He’d learned that he was incapable of whistling, juggling, or any other party trick – but he could pull out a fantastic rendition of Queen’s Somebody to Love during karaoke, and that was enough to make him seem like he was fun at parties. He’d learned that he loved to have his own space, and should he ever find a partner, he knew they’d have to have separate bedrooms. And he had learned exactly what it felt like when he was getting sick.

Like… really sick.

When Greyson said things like, “I didn’t know I was getting sick,” it truly did not register to Elijah. Maybe it was because Greyson’s illnesses always seemed to be some sort of mixed bag – starting differently every time, with symptoms that varied wildly – or maybe it was because he just didn’t tune in to how he was feeling. Greyson always said he basically tried to ignore his body until it forced him to pay attention; maybe that was something that Elijah needed to attempt. Because Elijah… Elijah knew exactly when and how badly he was getting sick every single time.

It had started that afternoon, mere hours after he’d given Greyson shit about exposing him to this illness, the way it always did – with the type of sore throat that made you feel weak in your knees. Elijah had swallowed, then immediately felt dizzy with the pain that surged in his throat. Oh, he thought, touching his neck. Oh, no.

He was, of course, a creature of habit and attempted all his usual ways to quell the pain – cups of tea hidden in paper sleeves, lozenges he hoped Greyson was too stuffed up to smell on his breath, handfuls of ibuprofen – to no avail. By the time dinner service came around he could hear the rasp in his voice and, despite the ibuprofen, could feel the ache in his joints that meant he’d already made it to stage two; fever.

This was how he knew he was going to be down badly. If he could ride the sore throat past the fever and straight into congestion, he might be able to get away with just a normal cold. But if that fever set in before any other symptoms, it was all over.

“Yo,” Greyson said, approaching his boss post pre-shift. “Cand we quickly talk about the semantics of tomborrow’s buffet before people get here?”

Elijah lifted his heavy head from his pre-shift notes and blinked in Greyson’s direction. “Okay,” he said, brilliantly. Greyson’s eyebrows knit together, concerned.

“You good?” he asked, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. Elijah nodded slowly – surely, if Greyson was able to push through this illness with such ease, he was just being a baby about it. He swallowed through the knives in his throat and nodded.

“Just a headache,” he said. “What do you want to talk through?”

“Just wanted to see how mbany cooks you think I should have on the buffehh....ETSZHCHH-ue!” Greyson directed a massive sneeze into his elbow, and Elijah’s head about exploded with pain.

“Christ,” Elijah muttered, pressing his palm into his eye. Greyson muffled a cough into his sleeve and shook his head to clear it.

“Fuck, ‘scuse mbe,” he said, looking back at his boss. “Umb. Did I get you or something?”

Something like that, Elijah thought as he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’re just loud, and my head hurts.” He pulled out his phone, looked at the cover spread for the next day, and said, “Three cooks on the buffet. One for omelets, one for prime rib carving, one for dessert bar.” He looked up at Greyson for his confirmation. “What?” he asked.

“You just… look like you’re in pain,” Greyson said, carefully. “Did you take -?”

“Yes, I took ibuprofen,” Elijah cut him off. “Go make sure your guys are ready for tonight. Take a decongestant so they can understand you. I’ll be back there in a minute.”

Greyson pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. “Yes, sir,” he said, and left Elijah to brood.

By some stroke of luck, the third inevitable stage of Elijah’s illness didn’t hit him until after they’d finished service. He was checking the lead server’s station so she could go home, when suddenly it felt like a thousand bees collected in his sinuses.

“Yeah, looks good Riley, thanks, see you in the mo – IGTSHH-uhh! HSTSH-ue! HhhhINTSZH-ue!” Elijah wrenched to the side, the sneezes so sudden he barely had time to cover his mouth.

“Yikes,” Riley said, taking a step away from her boss. “Bless you.”

“Thanks,” Elijah muttered, pinching his nose to quell the itch.

“You pick up whatever has everyone else out this week?” she asked, taking off her apron. Elijah shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Have a good night.”

With all the servers gone, Elijah slunk back into the kitchen and sunk into his office chair, his head in his hands. He was not prepared to do a whole holiday service feeling like this. This was nightmarish, and he’d only felt sick for nine hours. Tomorrow? Tomorrow was going to be -

“Hey, bless you,” Elijah sat up and turned around at the accusation to see Greyson standing at the office door with his arms crossed. “Could’ve heard those from fuckin’ space.”

Elijah rolled his eyes, painfully. “Whatever,” he said, powering his computer up to finish the night’s paperwork. “You’re one to talk, I don’t think you’ve gone three seconds without -”

“HRRSHH-oo!” Greyson cut him off with a comically-timed sneeze directed into the collar of his shirt.

“-that,” Elijah finished.

Greyson grabbed a tissue and wiped his nose. “Yeah, but it’s been well-established that I have a cold. I was under the impression that you were still -”

“HTSHH! HRSHH! Huh-! HuhhESTZHH-ue!” Elijah once again collapsed in on himself, head both buzzing and pounding, the explosive sneezes grating the back of his throat.

“- well,” Greyson finished, and moved into the office to sit by his boss. Just as Elijah looked up from his lap, Greyson slapped a hand on his forehead.

“Enough,” Elijah said, pushing Greyson’s palm off. Greyson put both his palms on his knees and gave Elijah a knowing look.

“So, you’ve been sick all day, or…?”

“Greyson,” Elijah said, clearing his throat, “I’m fine.”

“You have a fever, Lij. Like, a pretty significant one.”

He knew, and he had known, but the words made Elijah’s eyes well and his throat close all the same. God, he hated having a fucking fever and all the stupid, ridiculous emotions that went along with it. Elijah took a breath, closed his eyes to collect himself, and addressed the chef.

“I’m not feeling 100%,” he said. “But I will be fine. You are sick – if I’m not 100%, then you must be at like 10% at this point.”

“I don’t have a fever,” Greyson pointed out, taking Elijah’s hand and placing it on his cool head. “See?”

Elijah bit his cheek to keep from snapping. “Alright,” he said. “Whatever. Still, you need to go home; it’s a big day tomorrow.”

“I will when you do,” Greyson said, shrugging. Elijah, completely spent, and done arguing, just turned off his computer – paperwork be damned for the night.

“Fine,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “Let’s call it a night.”

Greyson, clearly confused, just raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Alright boss,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “See you tomorrow.”

***

If there was one thing Greyson knew about Elijah, it was this: if you wanted him to admit defeat, you had to corner him.

When he woke up at oh-dark-thirty that morning, Greyson felt lucky that he was no worse for the wear then he was the night before. Was he stuffed-up to the gills? Yes. Did he have an incessant, grating cough? Yeah. But ultimately, it was a cold, and he’d work through far worse many more times.

So, despite the fact that it was still dark out, Greyson donned his hoodie and set out for the restaurant. On the way to the early-morning subway, he called Matt.

“...Hello?” Matt answered on the third ring. “Chef?”

“Mbornin’ sunshine,” Greyson said, coughing into the receiver. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uh…” Matt said, attempting to gather his bearings. “Better. Am I supposed to be at the restaurant now? I thought I was scheduled at eight.” Greyson heard him push back a blanket and plant his feet on the floor. “You sound like shit, by the way. Sorry about that.”

“Inevitable,” Greyson said, a brush-off. “And you aren’t scheduled til eight, but I have sombe very important, pre-work, Executive Sous shit I ndeed your help with.”

“Sure, boss,” Matt said, and Greyson could hear him changing clothes, using mouthwash, and whispering goodbye to Mark. “Anything you need.”

“Good man,” Greyson said, pausing at the top of the subway steps. “Could you pick up cough drops, Mucinex, and a hot water bottle, if you see one? Oh, and a real blanket. I’ll Venmo you some mboney.”

“Uh, sure, boss. Is this… for you?”

“Not for me,” Greyson said, coughing into his sleeve. “For Elijah. He’s down bad.”

“Oh. Oh, shit,” Matt said. “Yeah, okay, for sure boss. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, mban. Hey, I’mb about to head down to the subway, text mbe if you have any – hh! HTSHH-ue! Fuck, sorry,” Greyson wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “Mbaybe grab more tissues while you’re there,” he amended.

“Sure, Chef. Bless.”

“You’re the best, Mbatt. Always knew you’d make a perfect number two.”

Greyson could hear the eye roll through the phone. “Don’t get sappy, old man,” Matt said. “See you soon.”

***

To say Elijah felt like shit would’ve been the understatement of the century.

When he woke up that morning, Elijah was fairly sure he was dying. The fever he’d crawled into bed with hadn’t budged, his sinuses were packed, and he’d officially acquired the final gem on his sick-as-fuck gauntlet: the cough. This day was going to be absolute hell.

Elijah did his level best to get ready for the busy service; he managed to take about half a shower before he had to sit down, dizzy from exertion; he’d gotten one contact in before sneezing so hard he almost poked his eye out and settled on glasses; he’d even found the strength to put on a pair of pants, though a button down was entirely too much for his shaking hands, so he settled on a cardigan that looked passable enough. God he hoped the servers – and Mark – would be able to hold down the fort out front, because this was nothing short of tragic.

Unwilling to deal with the subway and unable to drive safely in this state, Elijah settled on calling an Uber to work. It was early, a little before eight, but he knew if he didn’t get there now, he’d never make it.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” the driver said, leaving Elijah to immediately regret his decision not to drive. “Pretty early to be up and at ‘em. You heading to see family?”

Elijah cleared his throat as best he could before begrudgingly responding to the driver. “Ndot quite,” he said, his voice strained and congested. “Worki – HGSTHH-ue! HRSSH! ETSZCH-uh!” Elijah attempted to hold back the sneezes, unsuccessfully. Sans any tissues, he wiped his nose on his sweater sleeve. “Excuse mbe, sorry.”

“Working and sick on a holiday?” the driver said, shaking his head. “That’s rough, man. Bless you.”

Elijah’s face flamed, but he was in no state to deny. “Yeah,” he said instead. “Thangks.”

The rest of the drive was in blessed silence, and Elijah made sure to tip the guy extra for being exposed to whatever plague he was walking around with. When he finally pushed through the back door of the restaurant, Elijah felt like he’d already lived a lifetime today; he really wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to take.

“Elijah!” Greyson’s voice reached him before Elijah could even see his face. “Happy Thanksgiving, you sick old fuck!”

Elijah turned the corner and almost burst into tears – there stood Greyson, his face pale and nose bright red, and Matt and Mark looking no better, outside of his office; his office that had been, essentially, turned into a cozy-looking bedroom.

There were blankets on the floor, the chairs removed, and medicine on the desk. The harsh office light had been shut off, and instead one of the lamps from the host stand glowed gently from behind the computer. And, perhaps most heart-rendering, in Greyson’s hand was a bowl of steaming soup, and in Matt’s, a cup of tea.

“I know you hate working the holidays, and feeling like shit is just insult to injury,” Greyson said, setting down the bowl so he could guide Elijah into the office. “So we thought we’d mbake it just a little less shitty.”

Elijah allowed himself to be lead in, unable to find the words to thank his friend. He turned into his elbow to cough, a welcome respite from the tears he could feel threatening to spill over. “Grey,” he said when he’d gathered himself. “I… this is so… you guys…” he swallowed around the lump in his throat and shook his head. “I don’t kndow what to say,” he said, looking up at Greyson. “Thangk you.”

“Ah, save it,” Greyson said, placing a hand on his friend’s back. “You’re always looking after us. Call it our Thanksgiving to you.”

Elijah smiled a little, punched Greyson’s arm lightly, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Heading to see family? the Uber driver had asked him. Maybe he had been, after all.

[hurlingsupport]

Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous (Gender Neutral Reader Insert)

Chapter 7: Welcome to Jurassic World

<- Previous Next ->

When you awaken, your eyes refuse to focus. Your sight is blurry, and it’s as if everything had been covered in black smog.

A cracked windshield greets you once your vision clears, some small pieces hanging by a thread or just completely gone. You’d have to check yourself for any protruding glass later.

Blinking away any lingering blurriness, you realized that the black smog was actually smoke coming from the hood of the car.

“Is everyone okay?” Darius mutters, his voice hoarse.

“Is everyone…?” Yasmina chuckles at his words, but you can hear the undeniable anger in her voice.

She trudged past everyone, throwing open the back doors and jumping out sluggishly.

Oh right, what was even more embarrassing than crashing the van was the fact that Sammy had you all right under her thumb. Well, except Brooklynn, of course.

Sammy calls out to Yasmina, but she pays no mind to the girl and instead walks away from the van with a livid expression. As the two girls walk off, the rest of you hop out of the van to access the damage.

The front of the hood is crumpled, black smoke pouring out of it like a volcano about to burst. The culprit in the crash was a large rock, about the same size as the hood itself.

Other than a singular crack running across the middle of it, the rock didn’t seem to be affected by you crashing into it. But of course, a rock is a rock, and a van is a van.

….

Do you have a concussion or something?

As you and Darius stare down at the hood of the car, Yasmina and Sammy’s argument continues.

“We’re in the middle of a jungle with a monster dinosaur out there, and you…” Yasmina’s words fall short, her rage overwhelming her. “You…”

“Destroyed our only way to get help and lied about it!” Brooklynn finished for her. “I told you guys!”

“So, you did take Brooklynn’s phone?” Darius says in disbelief, his eyes narrowed in a mix of exhaustion and betrayal. “Why? What were you doing?”

While Darius and Brooklynn walk forward to interrogate Sammy, you stay back to think about what to do next. Sure, Sammy’s deception was surprising, but the van was undoubtedly more important. Now all of you would have to continue on foot, and so far that hasn’t gone too well.

“Probably trying to erase my video of her taking those samples from the Sinoceratops.” Brooklynn huffs.

Sammy gasps, her eyes full of guilt. She looks to Yasmina, but upon meeting her angered stare, she lets her gaze fall to the ground.

“And you knew about the Indominus rex because you were snooping around Dr. Wu’s office when I ran into you. I knew it!” Brooklynn yelled, her shattered phone held tightly in her hand.

Is that where they went? You noticed Brooklynn was gone, but Sammy had never even crossed your mind.

“I didn’t mean to destroy the phone. I fell on it when the zipline came down and–”

“But you did steal it?” Ben interrupts her. “You had it this whole time and didn’t tell us?”

Darius walks forward. “Hold up. What were you doing in Dr. Wu’s office, Brooklynn?”

“I…” Brooklynn begins, but when her eyes land on Sammy, she avoids the question altogether. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t break our only way to call for help and then lie about it! This is not my fault! This is her fault! She–”

“I’m here to spy!” Sammy shouts suddenly, her words causing a confused silence to fall across your group. “For a company called Mantah Corp.”

“Mantah Corp?” Darius wonders aloud, before explaining to the rest of you. “They’re a bioengineering company, big rivals with Masrani. They tried to make dinosaurs, too, but Wu beat them to it.”

“You doomed us all for some lousy company?” Ben snarled.

“Why would you do that?” You asked quietly.

Sammy pauses, her gaze wandering across everyone in the group. She wasn’t going to get out of this, so she might as well explain herself. And so, with a sigh, she does exactly that.

“Our ranch was in trouble, so my folks had to borrow a lot of money from some shady people. We didn’t know that they were fronting for Mantah Corp. They said we’d lose everything unless I spied for them.”

She continued with a shuttered breath. “Use the behind-the-scenes access I’d get at camp to gather info from Wu’s lab, and DNA from dinos, and whatever else they needed.” She spares a glance towards Brooklynn, her head lowering with guilt.

“But then Brooklynn caught on, and I got scared, and then everything went wrong.” She walks towards Yasmina, her face wrinkled with remorse. “This is the last thing I wanted to happen.”

“Oh.” Yasmina scoffs. “To be next to a broken van on a killer dinosaur island? Hey, me too! What are the odds?”

“Yaz, I–”

“Was it all a lie, wanting to be friends? Pretending you cared about…” Yasmina’s voice trails off, before getting back on track. “You just needed someone to hide what you were doing. Tell me I’m wrong.”

The only answer she gets is a shuttered sob from Sammy.

“I’m such an idiot.” Yasmina murmurs before turning around and walking off.

Sammy follows her, trying to explain her actions. She places a hand on Yasmina’s shoulder to stop her.

“Don’t touch me.” With a tense jaw and clenched fists, she pushes the girl’s hand off her. “Go away, Sammy.”

With watery eyes, Sammy runs away from the group.

With Sammy gone, Yasmina rejoins the rest of your group, who all stay awkwardly silent.

Bumpy, unaffected by the sad atmosphere, rears her hind legs to get Yasmina’s attention.

“Not now Bumpy.” She whispers.

“Look, I know the situation we’re in is suboptimal–” Ben starts tersely.

“It’s trash. Just say it’s trash, Ben.” Brooklynn says as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

Ben’s about to continue his attempt at cheering the group up, but a sharp gasp from you distracts him.

“What?” Darius asks, ever the leader.

Ignoring his question, you pull a small shard of glass out of Kenji’s arm, prompting a yelp to escape him.

“It’s gone now.” You answer curtly, throwing the shard off to the distance. Kenji stares at you in what you think is fear, and you almost laugh in his face before Bumpy grabs your guy’s attention.

She jumps and squeals, causing Ben to look at her worriedly.

“Bumpy, what are you…”

A loud rumbling became obviously apparent, and only a second later, the Indominus rex burst out of the treeline.

Everyone runs out of the way, and you hurriedly help Ben and Darius pull Bumpy out of the way so that she doesn’t get squashed.

“This is trash! This is trash!” Ben screams.

Hiding on the other side of the van, confusingly, the Indominus doesn’t bother with any of you. Instead, it bolts in the other direction as it roars.

“It’s running.” You state in a fit of confusion.

“What the…” Darius sputters.

The sound of rotors and gunfire soon invade your ears, a helicopter soon coming into sight chasing after the Indominus.

“Masrani’s helicopter!” Kenji yells as he points to the aircraft. “That’s his call sign on the tail!”

“They’re shooting at the Indominus!” Darius yells over the commotion, quickly pursuing the helicopter, causing you all to do the same.

Eventually, you all come to a stop as an enormous hemisphere comes into sight. Even without your glasses, the geodesic dome was large enough for you to recognize it as Jurassic World’s Aviary. It stored their Pterosaurs, although with the Indominus headed straight for the dome, that’s likely to change soon.

Glass shatters loudly, and yet the helicopter continues its gunfire as it hovers over the dome.

“What was that?” Brooklynn yells.

“Yeah! Kick its butt, Masrani!” Kenji screams, his hands cupping his mouth. “We’re saved! Yeah, baby!”

Kenji turns to Darius, slapping his back playfully. “Ah! I told you, they’ve got it totally under—”

In an instant, the helicopter is falling through the dome, gray smoke trailing after it before an explosion sounds across the dense forest.

A long string of blurs come after the explosion, and you can only hope that they aren’t what you think they are.

“Are those…?” You squint your eyes to differentiate the blurs soaring in the sky, but a tug at your wrists steals your focus.

Darius pulls you closer to the group as he replies. “The Pteranodons got loose. We’re practically sitting ducks! We’ve got to take cover!”

Kenji gasps as he takes the van tablet from Brooklynn’s hands.

“The Kayak River!” He points to a spot not too far from where you all were. “The entrance is near here. It goes underground, beneath the ridge. If we follow it, it’ll take us right to the main park.”

“Then that’s where we need to be. Come on!” Darius shouts, and everyone immediately heads for the Kayak River.

However, Bumpy can’t seem to get the hint that you all need to go. Ben tries to pull her from one side, but with her weight, he can only move her an inch or two away from where she stands.

You run back towards the two, grabbing one side of Bumpy as Ben grabs the other. With a huff, you both hold her in the air as you run after the others.

“Come on!” Darius hollers towards you and Ben, running ahead but never straying too far from the two of you.

Screeching from above becomes fearfully obvious, and you can only push yourself to run faster. Your legs ache, and a cramp in your side steals your breath like a parasite.

One Pteranodon dives, and Kenji, the appointed line leader, has to duck down to avoid its beak.

“Come on!” He yells as he changes course, running through some foliage.

Bumpy’s weight really begins to… well, weigh on you. Your breath comes out in shallow huffs, and a short glance towards Ben tells you he’s in the same boat.

Just before you can reach the tunnel leading towards the Kayak River, Ben’s legs give out, and Bumpy’s mass is shoved onto you. Her weight forces you down to the ground with her and Ben.

In an instant, Darius is in front of you, trying his best to pull Bumpy towards the tunnel where the rest of the group had already gone. Ben and you try to push her as Darius pulls, giving up on the whole carrying thing. Still, she only shrieks in fear of the situation.

A screech from above finally scares her into getting a move on, and she rushes past the three of you. The victory is extremely short-lived as a Pteranodon dives towards you all with ill intention.

You yowl in fright, pawing at the dirt to pull yourself upright and into a running position. Darius and Ben scurry after you, screaming all the while.

Running into the tunnel doesn’t grant you any safety, as the Pteranodon follows with determination. Its piercing cry echoes on the concrete walls.

Lit up by electric lanterns, a sliding door leading to the river attraction becomes your goal destination. Ignoring the soreness in virtually every part of your body, and the pounding in your head, you center your attention on the small gap between the door and the concrete frame.

Barging into the Kayak River area, twist your body in order to avoid stepping on Bumpy. With a leg up in the air, and your other foot bouncing to balance yourself, someone flings themselves into you before you can stabilize yourself.

You and the perpetrator fall to the ground, and though you expect to crack your head open on the concrete floor, your head meets a wooden dock instead. You can’t say the same for your back, sadly.

Pushing yourself up and onto your elbows, you stare with narrowed eyes at the culprit. Ben ignores your heated glare, koala-hugging you in response. You try standing, but the boy sticks to you like glue despite your efforts to peel him off. Gloomily accepting your fate, you survey your new surroundings.

Yasmina stands in front of the door, having been the one to slide it shut after the four of you ran in. The animalistic squeals behind the metal door give you tentative relief. Exhausted panting infiltrates the tunnel, everyone too busy catching their breath to discuss anything that had happened just yet.

“Jurassic World River Adventures,”

Ben’s grip on you falters as he looks up at the speakers in the ceiling. “What?”

“Prepare yourselves for the wonder of the underground river. Two adventurers per kayak. Life vests must be worn at all times. Adults, please fasten your own life vests before helping little adventurers. Remain seated at all times. Your journey begins now.”

In due time, Ben releases his grip on you and explores the tunnel with Bumpy. You gladly take a small break away from him. He was getting a bit too clingy for your tastes.

You pick up a stray life vest from the floor, the color a bright yellow hue. Both the vests and the oars had been left scattered around the Kayak River docks. The people down here must have been in a hurry to get out. Has the park already been evacuated?

Striving to forget that thought, you pull the vest over your head and fasten the click belt.

“Brooklynn and I call the CKK.” Kenji announces, hands placed proudly on his hips.

“CKK?” Brooklynn asks.

“Cool kids’ kayak.” He answers, flicking open some sunglasses before putting them on smoothly.

Brooklynn huffs in annoyance.

“Ben and Bumpy can go on this one.” Darius points to a specific kayak.

“I’ll go with them.” Yasmina says as she barges past Sammy. “Let’s go, dude.”

Ben stammers as he’s pushed toward the kayak.

That leaves you, Darius, and Sammy. Seeing as they were nearing the weight limit on Ben’s kayak, and Kenji didn’t invite you to the quote unquote CKK.

And you’re definitely saying that while doing the air quotes in your mind, because honestly, you’re a little peeved that they didn’t invite you.

“Come on, Sammy. Let’s get out of here.” Darius addresses her after a long silence.

She follows quietly as you and Darius lead her towards your guy’s boat.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’d like to thank you for your patience.”

As you all begin your little kayaking adventure, the tunnel becomes darker and darker. Yasmina and the CKK have a little collision because of the darkness, but Kenji brushes off Yasmina’s annoyance.

Your stare travels from the kayaks in front of you to Sammy’s back. You’re not too mad about her betrayal. You’ve only spoken to her once, after all.

You only wonder what the specifics of her situation are. Did her parents tell her to spy for them? Did she do it all on her own? What’s going to happen to her farm now with Jurassic World’s Indominus Rex situation?

You shook your head, putting your focus into paddling the kayak. You didn’t feel like asking her those things. It really wasn’t any of your business. You cast your gaze on Darius instead, who had his full attention on Sammy’s back.

Geez, he’s staring harder than you ever would. You slowly turn your head down towards the water beneath you. Along the walls of the artificial cave, a bioluminescent glow from the algae lights your group’s path.

It’s impressive just how pretty they made this place. You wished you could have come here in different circumstances. Words can’t describe the beauty of the waterfall in the Kayak River. And with the added bioluminescence, it has a magical glow that leaves your bunch gawking at the sight.

Your kayak sits in silence, at least until Sammy has enough of Darius’s prying eyes. Even the beautiful view can’t get her to ignore his prominent staring.

“Just ask.” She mutters.

Darius’s eyes widen upon being caught, his paddling pausing for a moment, though he adheres to her words, regardless.

“It’s just that you talk so much about your ranch and your family, but your family sent you here to break the law.” He draws out his words, awaiting a rebuttal from Sammy.

Sammy immediately turns to the boy, her brows furrowed. “Don’t, Darius. You don’t know anything about my family.”

“I know they put you in danger when they sent you to spy on the park. How can you still defend them?”

“Because they didn’t send me.” She admits. “They said no to Mantah Corp. I was the one who contacted the Mantah Corp agent. I agreed to come here.”

She finally turns to look you and Darius in the eyes. “My family… they didn’t even know what I was planning until I was already on the ferry. Smashing the phone was an accident, but Brooklynn’s right.”

You and Darius’s paddling had just about completely stopped. It’s only when she pauses do you both start up the paddling once more.

She faces away from the both of you, shaking her head earnestly. “This is all my fault.”

“I still don’t see why–” Darius begins.

Sammy turns suddenly, a serious expression worn on her face. “If your family was in trouble, wouldn’t you do anything in your power to save them?”

You and Darius stop in your tracks, her words sinking into your minds like a snake’s venomous fangs. Right, many people would, wouldn’t they?

A dreary atmosphere comes after. No words are spoken until everyone gets farther into the underpass.

“You guys, should the algae be moving?” Sammy questions, her voice loud so that the others could hear her from their kayaks.

On the upper cave ground stood two Parasaurolophuses, their bodies glowing a similar hue to the rest of the bioluminescent cave.

“Don’t panic, guys. They’re herbivores!” Darius reassures. “Unbelievable! Dr. Wu must have put the bioluminescent gene into these Parasaurolophuses.”

They growl deeply, watching calmly as the kayaks pass them by. When Bumpy squeals, however, the Parasaurolophuses crawl into the water. One emerges from the water right next to your boat, scaring the three of you from the sudden appearance.

Darius quickly gets over his surprise, reaching out to stroke its glowing snout in amazement. You watch as a carefree smile stretches across his face.

Though it quickly reverts into an expression of surprise when another Parasaurolophus bursts out of the water on the other side of your kayak, with about four more appearing soon after.

They groan and growl, pushing the kayaks against each other. It’s hard not to fall off of your kayak with the dinosaurs nearly shoving it underwater. The arm of one pushes your side of the kayak down and into the water. You push the arm away from you, aiming to stop the kayak from capsizing.

You can feel the chill of the water creeping onto your arm, and with a final push, the Parasaurolophus releases its grip from your side of the kayak.

Though with the freedom, you get tossed onto Darius’s legs while accidentally kicking Sammy.

She gasps, the kayak tilting to one end as she struggles to stay on board. Darius can only push himself into the kayak to avoid the neck of a Parasaurolophus.

Eventually it dives underwater, a bump coming from under your kayak as it makes its way towards Bumpy. With the disturbance gone, you help Sammy to the middle of the kayak, which settles the previously tilting boat.

She sends a thankful glance, but your attention is solely on the group of Parasaurolophuses surrounding Bumpy, Ben, and Yasmina.

Bumpy’s squealing had drawn them in. Did they think you guys were hurting her? That would explain their rather abrupt attack on your group. Someone just needs to calm Bumpy down and the Parasaurolophuses should back off. Maybe.

“Calm–” you start, however the unexpected silence from the Parasaurolophuses stuns you into a silence of your own.

The flock of dinosaurs stand eerily still, all peering into the darkness of the tunnel further ahead. With a sudden cry from one of them, the group of dinosaurs dive into the water and swim opposite to where your guys were heading.

Without finishing your sentence, you stare at the retreating herd, to the darkness of the tunnel, and then towards the kayaks of your fellow campers.

However, they soon disappear from your sight as in a thick layer of darkness obscures your vision. The colorful light of the algae from before is nowhere to be seen.

“Uh, cool kids to nerds, where are you?” A voice calls, and you don’t need to see him to tell that it’s Kenji.

“Over here!” Darius answers, ignoring the name-calling. “I think something scared the Parasaurolophuses.”

Sammy cuts in with a call of you and Darius’s name, her voice wobbly. “If we stopped paddling, why are we still moving forward?”

The two of you gasp, snapping your heads to the water carrying your kayaks forward all on its own. You hadn’t noticed because of the lack of light, but a current had forced your kayaks forward.

This isn’t right. As far as you know, the Kayak River attraction isn’t supposed to have a current. The fences may be down, but how would that affect the water down here?

Your question is answered by two separate tunnels further down. One mimicking the artificial cave architecture the tunnels had until now, while the other is a simple circular passage.

“Paddle! There’s a current pulling us into a different tunnel!” Darius orders with a shout.

Everyone shoves their oars into the water to backtrack, but the pull of the tide is much stronger than your guy’s paddling. Inevitably, your kayaks drag you down into the tunnel, your surroundings turning pitch-black before you’re shrouded in the blinding light of the sun.

Wait, the sun?

With a hand hovering over your eyes, you check your surroundings. Though they aren’t too different from before. You all are still on your kayaks, floating on water, only now your group is in some sort of water stadium.

“We’re okay. We’re okay.” Ben sighs happily.

Sammy leaned backwards into the kayak, her back resting on your legs as she laughed.

You ignored her, your head swiveling around in all directions. This place was like a football field, both in size and in looks. Only instead of a field, it had an enormous pool. This must be an attraction of some sort that happened to be connected to the Kayak River.

Although, if that’s true, the only aquatic animal Jurassic World could recover is the Mosasaurus. And you really don’t want this to be the Mosasaurus attraction.

A gasp from Kenji is enough confirmation that your assumptions are true. You hate being right sometimes.

“Why did you gasp? That didn’t sound like a good gasp!” Ben whines.

“Cause I know exactly where we are, guys.” Kenji mutters. “We’re in the Jurassic World Lagoon. And so is the Mosasaurus.”

His words bring about a quiet panic, one that has everyone looking every which way.

“I assume the Mosasaurus is some kind of giant fish dinosaur that’s gonna try and eat us?” Ben assumes with a whimper.

“Not exactly a dinosaur, but yeah, pretty much.” You correct, eyes searching for some kind of escape from the lagoon. But your lack of glasses makes it impossible.

A low, raspy growl sounding not too far behind you gets a yelp out of Darius. Definitely your guy’s signal to get the hell out of here.

Harder said than done, especially when the Mosasaurus circles your group. Its body is just barely hidden under the blue water, almost as if it wants to be seen. And maybe it does.

“It’s circling, testing us. It’s acting like a shark.” Brooklynn says in a low tone. “We’re intruders in its domain, so it’s investigating us. Before it gets confident, decides to… to…”

A snarl interrupts her whispering, and Bumpy squeals at the noise.

“This is bad,” Brooklynn finishes.

“We have to get out now!” Kenji whines, holding his oar to his chest in fear.

“There’s a ladder by the spectator stands.” Darius points, and though it’s only a blur of colors to you, your eyes follow his hand, regardless.

Kenji winces at the distance. “How are we gonna–”

“Y’all?” Sammy draws your attention to the water.

Just like Brooklynn said, the Mosasaurus is getting more confident, now swimming directly beneath your kayaks.

“Paddle! Go, go, go!” Darius commands.

“This is not how Kenji wanted to go out!” Kenji yells, his sunglasses close to falling off.

“This isn’t on my to-do list either!” Yasmina hisses.

So far you’ve all made it more or less half-way across the water with no disruptions from the Mosasaurus, but you’re sure that’ll change soon.

“Keep paddling!”

“Almost there!”

Bumpy squeals, fearful from the constant splashing and movement of the kayaks.

Another growl from the deep blue pushes you to paddle faster despite your sore arms.

The CKK, as Kenji had previously called it, arrives at the spectator stands before anyone else. And you wonder if your kayak will make it at all. With three people, your kayak’s been falling behind the other two. Even Bumpy’s kayak had gotten in front of you guys.

The three of you pant from exhaustion, shrieking at every wave made by the Mosasaurus. Because if anyone was going to get eaten, it would be the ones falling behind the rest. And admittedly, your kayak was doing exactly that.

You don’t draw your attention away from the spectator stand. You may not see it too well, but you trust Sammy and Darius to guide the kayak in the right direction.

“Don’t look back! Just keep paddling!” Darius calls out to Sammy and you.

“I’m trying!” Sammy says as she forces her head away from the splashing behind your kayak. “What’s Yaz doin’?”

Her words cause you to divert your attention to your side. There stands Yasmina in all her glory atop a small foot area at the bottom of a large metal pillar.

The pillar in question is used to keep the meat conveyor upright so that it’d stay out of reach from the Mosasaurus. It’s not how it would’ve fed in the wild, but they’ve got to put on the show for the guests, don’t they? Taking your attention off the money hungry tactics of Jurassic World, you wonder why in the world Yasmina’s standing there.

You get an answer when she bangs on the pillar, shouting at the top of her lungs. You couldn’t see it, but judging by her laughter, you guess it worked. Either that, or she was just insane. Considering her antics, you wouldn’t be too surprised.

“She’s distracting it, buying us time. Keep going!” Darius ordered, more towards Sammy than you, whose gaze had wandered yet again.

With a thud, your kayak meets the spectator stand roughly. Sammy crawls out first, lending a hand to you when you crawl out after. She instantly turns her attention towards Yasmina while you help Darius out of the kayak on your own.

“We’ve gotta do something!” Sammy cries, watching as the Mosasaurus swims towards Yasmina. She tears off her life vest, face wrinkled in fear as she hurries up the ladder leading to the stadium above. Darius and you follow in her footsteps, although a lot less hysteric.

A mechanical stir followed by Kenji’s shouting leads you to believe that Yasmina might actually have a chance at surviving this. Or at least you hope so. She’s one of the few people you enjoy here.

Joining the rest of the group at the stadium, you watch as a thick wire rope cable emerges from the water, a hook at the end. Tossing her oar into the depths below, Yasmina jumps onto it, grasping the cable with all four limbs.

“Go, go, go!”

“Yasmina!”

Once the cable is pulled as high as it can go, it moves in your guy’s direction. Yasmina leans back with her legs out, and then forward with her legs in. Over and over she does this, most likely to build momentum. With the Mosasaurus circling her below, and no set drop point, she’s going to jump.

“Come on, Yaz!”

“Oh, no…”

“She’s not gonna make it.”

As those words leave Kenji’s mouth, the Mosasaurus breaks the surface of the water, flinging itself upwards to snap its jaws at Yasmina. In an incredible show of luck, the Mosasaurus latches onto the horizontal wire holding the line and hook. Its teeth cut the wire and Yasmina swings through the air. Can’t be too lucky, it seems.

With little to no time to prepare herself, she’s flung straight into the stadiums. She lands in a crouched position, her feet meeting the ground violently. Yasmina grunts at the impact and curls in on herself, clutching her left leg in pain.

“Yasmina!”

You all surround her, forming a circle of concern. Darius and Sammy help her sit up.

“I’m okay.” She assures you all, but a touch to her ankle forces a pained groan from her lips. “I think.”

“Uh, also, where’d everyone go?” Ben asks, looking side to side at the empty stadium surrounding your group.

“They must’ve evacuated the park.” You answer swiftly, gaze switching from Yasmina’s injured leg to the empty stadium seats.

With no further words, everyone explores the stadium for signs of… well, anything really. Yasmina sits grumpily at the very bottom of the stadium, forced to stay where she’s at because of her possibly broken leg.

Despite the pain, she continues pressing her hands against her ankle as if it would suddenly stop hurting. You watch Sammy approach her, but it doesn’t seem to go well, considering Yasmina stands up and limps away from her.

You sigh, heart still beating out of your chest from everything that’s happened so far. Bumpy bellows softly to your left, happily being used as a pillow by Ben. His eyes are shut, but you doubt he was actually sleeping. At least he feels safe enough to close his eyes at all. You wonder why that is.

You jump and look away when he shifts from his previous position. He looks towards you, who pointedly looks the other way until he speaks.

“I’m… glad you’re okay.” A confused stare from you brings him to continue hastily. “I–I mean you, Darius, and Sammy.”

His words bring a perplexed look to your face, but you let a chuckle leave your mouth all the same.

“Thanks. Uh, you too, I guess.” Your words are lackluster, but his face lights up despite it.

It goes quiet between the two of you, but not in an awkward way. Which is a first for you. Ben lies back down, head resting on Bumpy’s back once more. And this time, he might actually sleep.

The blaring sound of a siren makes that an impossible feat, however, the noise invading everyone’s ears out of the blue. The siren stays at a steady pace, blaring its loud horn before fading and doing it all again.

The deafening sound of it forces you all into a wide-eyed daze, looking around like deers to the headlights of a car. You don’t want to ask, but you truly wonder how much worse this experience can get.

[loakismine]

Teach Me

Pairings: Lo’ak x Metkayina!Reader

Summary: The Sully’s arrived onto your village searching refuge from your people, and one Sully caught your eye from the moment you both laid eyes.

Warnings: none!!!

Word count: 1,667

The Sully’s had arrived at the beautiful Reefs of Pandora seeking refuge from The Metkayina clan. Ronal and Tonowari received them with kindness but your people were a bit taken back from the forest people before them. Tysireya swam near the crowd that had surrounded the family and she detached herself from the creature and came onto the warm sand. Her and others had gone out past the shallows to go hunting. From afar you noticed your people balled up and shouting. Your ears propped up wanting to hear what the commotion was all about but you were much to far.

Coming close to the shallows you let your skimwing go on by itself while you stared into your fathers frowned look he had put on just for you. Everyone turned to look at you and wow was it embarrassing. Your ears turned a bright pink when you felt all eyes on you. “What have I said about flying?.” His voice was deep as it grumbled out of his chest, you swallowed back your fear and looked him in the eye. “Don’t fly without asking. Sorry sir.” Your head hung low with every step you took towards your mother and father. Looking up through your braids that hung from your forehead you saw the most prettiest boy.

His eyes were a bright golden yellow, his braid had wooden beads threaded into it, and he had a smile that could take your breath away. Yet again you felt your ears warm up and turn a brighter pink than before. His skin was most visibly darker than your tealish warm skin tone. He had much different feature than you. He was from the forest people. The Omaticaya people. A hand rested upon your shoulder and then a voice began, “My family will learn your ways to become apart of your people.” The father of the family had spoke. Your father was understanding and took a deep breath as he held your hand tightly.

“My children will teach your own the way of water.” His voice sent chills down your spine at the mear thought of teaching your crush your ways. Your brother Ao’nung hissed at his father. “Father no. Don’t make me” “My orders are final son. You will teach them.” Ao’nung was cut off before he could even finish his sentence by your father and with that he called the clan to get back to work. A huge smile was spread from ear to ear on your face when the little girl from the family came to you. “Hii! I’m Tuk!” She squeaked as she held your hand. Kneeling down to her height you introduced yourself to her and she grabbed her sisters hand. “This is Kiri! Oh and that’s Neteyam and Lo’ak!” She pointed at each of her siblings with such enthusiasm.

Kiri rolled her eyes while looking down at you. “She’s the crazy one.” You and her laughed as you got back up. “Well.. I can show you guys around?” You hesitated a bit when you looked over at the boys behind the two girls. Your sister gave you a big smile as she thud your brother on the head when he scowled at you. You led the kids around showing them the Marui pods and where the ilu pens where. Tuk kept at your side holding your hand the whole way through, you could almost feel her fast heartbeat by just holding her hand. Kiri out of all of them seemed the most intrigued by your home and how you have learned to adapt.

She was most definitely the brains in the family. You led them back to the reef to begin teaching them. You walked towards your sister Tysireya sneaking looks at Lo’ak every now and then. “Help me.” Tysireya giggled at how nervous you were and came up with an idea. One that you’d hate her for but would definitely thank her later. She walked into the water leading the little girl and her sister while you brother was stuck with Neteyam. Which meant you were left with the second born, Lo’ak. Your eyes grew wide as he began stepping closer and closer to you. “So what’s first?” He broke the silence between the both of you first. His eyes kept looking into yours and you could only feel his warmth surrounding you all over.

Your heart began to beat faster and faster almost pumping out of your chest and into his hands, your fingers entwined with eachother as he waited for a response. “Swim..?” Was the dull response that was given to him. And in that very moment you wanted to face palm yourself at a moment you had ruined. Shaking the thought away you swam into the water and he began to try it. His feet paddled through the water well enough and his arms weren’t in the best position but you could fix that. Or so you thought. “Mm.. you need to fix your posture and learn to relax.. breath.” You hummed as your hands went to your chest. Signaling how to suck in gently and breath out slowly.

His brows furrowed together in confusion, his face was filled with it too. You weren’t giving much of a good thorough explanation. He huffed and took your hands to his chest, “Teach me.” His eyes stared into yours causing your ears and cheeks to burn and turn to a warm red color. Your body physically froze in the moment not knowing what to do next. Giggled from his youngest sister came from behind and brung you back. His head tilted down a bit signaling you to go on. You yourself had to take a big breather before you could move on.

Your right went down to his stomach and the other on his heart. Your head rested on his chest listening in to his heartbeat. It was much too fast. “Take deep breath.” You whispered and his chest rose with your head still on it, falling back down again as he exhaled. His heart still the same. “Your heart beat is still too fast. Try to calm yourself.” Nodding he whispered a sorry and went back to it. This time he closed his eyes and let his body fully relax. Inhaling his chest rose yet again and fell again. His heart beat had slowed down by a lot. “Good. Now try swimming and remember to relax and breath.” You instructed.

He dove into the water and began kicking his legs, his arms paddled consistently at a good pace. His position was much better now and not as sloppy as before. Rising from the water you awaited him with a small smile. He returned one with his cute fangs sticking out. He really was a dream. The best kind of dream. He was so sweet and cute. A loud whistle call was heard from your older sister Tysireya. The ilu swam through the water like spears. You stopped one with your whistle and the creature waited to be connected with one.

With a tilt of your head Lo’ak got the gist and quickly mounted the creature. The ilu was a bit scared since it didn’t recognize who was on its back. You calmed the creature down with a hand to it’s forehead and neck. “Make the bond.” You looked at Lo’ak and he nodded grabbing his long braid and bonding it with the ilu. It’s pupil grew wide before dilating back down. Lo’ak reached for your hand as he effortlessly helped you up behind him. “Now what?” He questioned with his head turned over his shoulder to look at you. “Think with your head like you would with your ikran.” You said tilting your head to the left, your braids fell from behind your ear and Lo’ak pushed them back with one of his fingers.

You liked that he was different. Just meant he was unique in his own way. The ilu broke your train of thought when it turned to the right quickly making your body slide closer to Lo’aks. His hand rested in your thigh so that you wouldn’t fall and also a subtle way of him letting you know he felt something too. “Remember deep breath.” His head nodded up and down at your words and led the ilu below the water after he had relaxed and taken a breath. But his mind was blown at the crazy speed of the ilu. Your hands hand quickly wrapped around his abdomen as you both sped through the waters.

Your hair was blown back behind you by the water and Lo’aks face was unbelievably funny. His mouth was wide open and his eyes squinted as speeded below the surface. Lo’ak led the ilu up and out of the water taking a huge leap into the air where a huge wave was being washed over you guys. A squeal was let out by you when the wave came crashing down on you. Your body twisted and turned below the water, a hand of yours hit a rough rock causing a minor scrape on your palm. Swimming back up you were found with a laughing yet concerned Lo’ak.

“Y/n?! Are you okay?! That was crazy bro!” He said while wiping his with his hand. You laughed along too and lifted your hand showing him your palm. The look of worry on his face switched so fast when he saw your small wound. “I’m fine just a scratch.” You giggled when you saw his crazy braids all over the place. You fixed them up and he did the same with a few misplaced curls. Turning you saw the sun setting behind you, “We gotta get back.” He huffed and followed you. Once you both reached the sand you were met with a wide smiled Tuk and Kiri. “We should do this again.” Tuk said aloud as she jumped up and down at her brother. Lo’ak looked up at you and laughed, “Hell’s yeah we should.”

YOU GUESSED IT!! ITS LATE AGAIN! Anyways I hope you guys like this I know I did!!!:))))

[folklorianhaze]

Should I be extra bad and let you guys have a preview of my modern day elucien multichapter??? 😈

...

okay I need no convincing imma do it

(For context, Elain and Lucien have just had a messy almost-hookup after Elain, still grieving her breakup with Graysen from several months ago, got drunk at Feyre and Rhys’ wedding. This scene is the morning after, and the whole fic will be told with chapters that alternate between past and present, filling out the gaps in Elain and Lucien’s friendship to eventual developing feelings for each other, as we piece together how they got to this point and how they’ll move forward!)

OCTOBER

Listen. We should probably talk about last night.

Elain Archeron squinted through bleary, swollen eyes at the too-bright screen of her phone, staring directly at but somehow failing to comprehend the words occupying the little blue text bubble. Trying her level best to ignore the name attached to the top of the thread, reminding her against her will of the sender.

And then, beneath the first message, a follow-up that somehow felt even more humiliating than its predecessor:

I know you’re going through a lot right now — I don’t want to pressure you at all. But I don’t like the way we left things.

Somewhere beneath the dull pressure steadily building in her head, she managed to muster up enough shame that her face burned. The tone of the messages alone said enough about her behavior last night that she wanted nothing more than to chuck her phone out of her fifth-story apartment window (and then maybe back her car up over the wreckage just to be sure.) 

As polite and careful as his words were, it was all too obvious — he was worried about her. Did he pity her, perhaps, for the emotional wreck she’d been lately? She wasn’t sure which option made her feel worse.

Although Elain supposed she couldn’t entirely blame him for showing concern. Last night, she’d . . . she shook her head and grimaced, as if she could clear her mind of the foggy memories that still lingered. And each snippet she recalled proved all the more embarrassing. To say she hadn’t been herself would have been the understatement of the century. She hardly ever drank, let alone to that extent. She wasn’t entirely sure what had possessed her to behave in such a way — and in public! At her sister’s wedding!

Just perfect, Elain, she thought, the oily, queasy feeling returning to the pit of her stomach with a vengeance. I’m sure Feyre appreciated your hysterics so much on the happiest night of her life.

She’d be sure to call her sister later and apologize. Profusely. She couldn’t remember exactly if she’d made a huge scene in her drunken stupor, but she supposed it didn’t hurt to cover all her bases. But her damage control would have to wait for later, when the headache inevitably receded and she had to face the consequences of her actions in the harsh light of day. It was just as well — Feyre and Rhys were undoubtedly still traveling to their luxurious tropical honeymoon destination, and wouldn’t take kindly to any interruptions.

Not that she was entirely sure if she wanted to interrupt them later, either.

Elain let out a slow exhale, shifting in her soft bedsheets. She’d gotten accustomed to being in her apartment by herself lately, though lying in this bed alone still felt strangest of all. Sometimes in the middle of the night, she still found herself expecting to find Graysen’s sleeping form there, even though it had been months since they’d split. Months ago, and yet . . . here she was, acting like a reckless teenager. Acting messy. Her eyes began to sting, and she swallowed past a sudden tightness in her throat.

As she burrowed her face farther into the pillows, a thought occurred to her. How had she gotten home last night? Obviously, she’d been too drunk to drive herself, and she didn’t remember getting into Nesta’s car. Yet she’d woken up in her own bed, and vaguely remembered stumbling through the darkness of her bedroom and shucking off the dress she’d worn to Feyre’s wedding before plopping down onto the mattress. 

The briefest flash of a memory — the sleek leather interior of a car, the blur of the highway through the passenger window, warm strains of Billie Holliday floating from the radio — an all-too-familiar woodsy, earthy scent that had made her feel so at home, nearly lulled her to sleep — a golden-brown hand reaching across to hold hers, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles —

— and a voice that twisted something in her chest, that made her ache to remember it: It’s okay, you’re okay, Elain. It’s going to be alright.