#what I'll do when its full summer? complain? its more likely than you think

[wolfchans]

Temperatures are getting super deceiving these days, in the mornings it's a chill temperature a little windy, just perfect for existing and then after midday it's 180°C

[bentosandbox]

I think that majority of players don’t even know that chen is one of the main character in game that it’s sad. I see a lot of people complaining about her appearing in stories after reunion arc even though her screen time is already a lot less than amiya and kaltsit… I think yj already forgot about the main characters concept lmao but her getting new outfit at different region is cool i guess but why are those outfits so weird- (sorry this is just my personally ranting…

true! before I go on my own ramble everyone else can scroll down to the bottom for (unconfirmed??) ten thousand mountains lore/trivia

i have a feeling this image is somehow related to your ask LMFAO...

actually... have they mentioned the whole 'kaltsit = past, chen = present, and amiya = future' thing outside of CN or did i dream this i feel like they said it somewhere...i can kind of see how people would think amiya is the only protag seeing as there are people who unironically think the doc is the (sole/main) protag and chen/kal acting so antagonistic early on probably didnt help lol

2. yea its sad but as always if chen has 1 morbillion fans i am one of them if she has one im that 1 fan etc drinking their salty tears 🫡🫡🫡

3. uhhh went on a little costume design ramble sorry. my outfits copium is basically telling myself she's really getting the 'dad who does not really understand fashion buying(designing) clothes for child' treatment anime-style (like what can i say other than point to the night and day difference of dossoles chummer e2 fit vs the ice cream collab fit)

i have my personal nitpicks for every outfit but (looks at gavial2 summer skin) a 8.8 is so much better than a...nvm i'll refrain from grading. but for all the nits i pick i think they still pass the baseline of costume design because of the storytelling they do

base chen: cop who likes to yolo a bit too much, leave that one button undone so roll up her sleeves, give her gloves, give her a walkie talkie/earpiece etc, e2 makes that jacket even bigger and has that yummy rhodes teal

CNY skin: still of the opinion/hc that its the dress fumizuki mentioned which is why she looks like shes wearing it grudgingly, it has shorts though at least !!

chummer: shes (trying to be) on a holungday so bring back her epic tourist c cap and make her existing recognizable jacket more summer-y, also the duck heart emoji

victorian arc: cop sideclass(?) to sheriff detective or something, embracing her cringe but free era by leaving her collars up now has the sense to tuck in her shirt and wear actual pants, better coverage against the elements etc etc thank terra nevermind the fact theyre so tight fitting this is just like khr also she looks flatter in the animated PV smile i'm reminded of a wb comment that went sth like 'why are you dressing like this when youre already 30' on this fit and shes not explicitly 30 etc etc but i really like the 'chuuni(cringe but free) at 30' vibe

yumen: passing-by traveler with the cape!!! 👍👍👍👍👍👍 i really like how it looks in the cg lol with the thinner/darker stripes on the outside, ngl no fucking idea what that green box is but i appreciate chen still having a little green and yellow on her outfit, the shortness of the dress? bothered me at first but ive come to the terms that chen is a shorts enjoyer so

10k mountains: youxia-core with the hat and cape👍👍👍👍👍👍 and keeps the plastic part from chummer jacket as well as the checkers (i think they were zips but you know, the black and white alternating…lol remember how her current thing is supposedly dealing with the reality of being grey or whatever as little sense as that makes. we are in full hc territory here but its so much better than adding another 20 belts) the heels dont exist to me though

like idk it's not even a high bar honestly just nail down the role/silhouettes first before adding your morbillion belts/fanservice 😭 looking at a certain bunch of characters anyway this is why swire has the best track record for outfits 1/? ill stop here before i start tambling about her summer drip

anyway everyone should look at this Canon(as in camera brand not the other meaning) ad ft. real cormorant im convinced they got the designs from HG early because they dropped a photoshoot ~bout a week after the 4anni livestream and they got the 2hu-style sleeves right that you can never see unless you look at the sprite sheet, uh

wait what's this on the back

oh its from a poem wait whys that so famili

just going to link some translations/explainers of the poem i think but you can also look up '涼州詞 王之渙 + english translation' or something for more there's quite a few

[help-i-need-a-cool-username]

So some stuff has come up and i dont think i'll personally be able to finish RWBY March. But ive been building a headcanon list for a while, so i guess now's the perfect time to share it!

General (main cast)

Nora refers to JR/JRO as "the boys" (canon?) but to RWBY as "RWBY" (canon?)

Pyrrha was insecure about her height (6'). The only one who knew was Nora. Nora's not insecure about her height (5'1") she's just mad at it

Weiss is also mad at her height. And Yang used to be insecure about hers in middle school

Everyone has carried Nora at least once. Whether because they wanted to or she forced them or they had to drag her out of something

Salem is colorblind (either by birth or by Grimm Pond dive)

Blake once licked her whole hand and then used that hand to push Ruby's hair back. No one will let her live that down

Sun likes to play with other peoples hair and clothes and gets really happy when they do it back (grooming is a important social aspect for primates). This behavior makes people think he's dating either Blake (who gets it) or Neptune (who's used to it and just lets him do what he wants)

At Beacon Blake wouldnt let anyone touch her hair out of fear they would move her ribbon or they would notice her cat ears. She actually really likes brushing or braiding her own or other people's hair

Pyrrha has a scar on her neck. Thats why she's always covering it. She always admired Weiss for walking around with hers on full display

Blake hung out with Sun and Neptune a lot in V2/V3. Thats why she knew Neptune was afraid of water

Emerald has never kissed anyone

Mercury went to school

Mercury was always a quiet kid. When he was talkative it was because he was having fun or being mean

Emerald dresses the (almost) exact way that Yang does but if anyone drew the same first conclusions about her that she did about Yang she would be very upset

Salem stopped going by "Princess Salem" after her rescue, only bringing it up if it would help a situation her and Ozma were in. She started somewhat going by it again when she was recruiting her army. She didnt go by "princess" again but she did go by "queen" and "goddess" after her false god stint

Faunus in General

Bc they need more animal characteristics outside 1 physical trait and goodish night vision

Faunus senses are a lot stronger than humans (other than sight*, which is equal to or less) *its canon they have night vision, so this is in regards to normal daytime 20/20 sight

Most faunus' can smell other faunus, down to the species-type (is there a word for that?)

Theres an old wives tale that the more human DNA you have, the weaker the strength of your senses are

Faunus who marry other faunus tend to end up with a spouse of the same or similar species-type. (Theres no socialital push its just statistics. Like how ppl tend to marry other ppl from the same backgrounds or class as them)

Depending on the species-type, some faunus have internal characteristics that allow them to: growl/howl (vocalcords/voicebox), have a higher bite force (jaw muscles), etc

There are stereotypes surrounding species-types. Cat-types like fish, primate-types will go through your stuff, rodent-types are short, that faunus who resemble solitary animals avoid social situations, etc

There are ridiculous rumors that faunus have a mating season/go into heat and that they lay eggs instead of giving birth

Perfumes and other scented things created and used by faunus are made differently, since their sense of smell is so strong. Walking into a human mall can be very disorienting because of the strength of human perfumes/candles

Animals were named after the types of faunus, not the faunus after the animal

STRQ

The partners were Summer x Taiyang and Raven x Qrow

Raven is also a alcoholic

Raven and Qrow started drinking at a young age and drank fairly often at Beacon (Tai wasnt complaining then but he complains now)

Both of them became functioning alcoholics well before anything truly bad happened (ex. Summer's death or Raven's exile)

Everyone has tattoos

STRQ has one matching tattoo, they were all suppose to get partner tattoos but instead only Summer and Tai got them while Raven and Qrow got completely different tattoos (they're already twins and will already be tied together for the rest of their lives by Raven's semblance. Plus they'd never agree on one)

Raven has a portal to Ruby

Tai married Qrow first while they were in the Remnant version of Las Vegas for a mission. They were drunk and thought it would be a hilarious thing to lord over Raven. And it was ("i shouldve stayed married to Qrow", "hey, Tai put a ring on my finger before he ever put one on yours!", "you see, my sister married my ex-husband, which means she was the second choice", "well, for your information, i have married every member of my team")

[backwardswalks]

If I say Dongcheon boys on a trip to the beach because Donghoon said they needed a break you say...? 👀

you know what? i think he'd actually do this.

donghoon's line of thinking goes like, my daughter loves the beach and i always take her there, and i love her, so by extension, the men i love in dongcheon should like it too, right?

so he tells them--let's go somewhere. just the three of us. the recruits will be fine, tell them they get a free weekend vacation to go kiss their mothers and be good sons for a change. we deserve a little break, don't we? but he never tells them where they're going. and mujin hates that--complains the whole way, why are you being so suspicious and if you're taking me somewhere to kill me, you'll have to kill taeju too, and taeju just sitting in the backseat and smiling to himself because he knows donghoon would never do that to them.

this is before, of course.

and so they drive and drive and they arrive on the beach and mujin and taeju are confused. the beach? what the hell are we doing at the beach? but donghoon just laughs and tells them get out of the car, just trust me on this one. don't ruin the mood.

unbeknownst to them, donghoon pulls out all the stops. umbrella stuck down in the sand. huge blanket pinned down with rocks. a cooler full of beer and soju and awful snacks that they're going to complain about eating too much of later. they didn't bring swim trunks, because donghoon didn't want to spoil the surprise, but their boxers are fine; they've all seen more of each other than that. taeju refuses to take off his shirt because he's shy and they tease him for it. donghoon forces them to put sunscreen on because if i have to listen to you guys complain about getting slapped or punched in a sunburn, then i'll kill you, so they let him slap it on them.

after some convincing they all end up in the water. mujin's hair is finally wet and pushed back off his face, but taeju's is across his forehead and he looks like a wet dog. the sun shines down on them, reflecting off the surface of the water like a hot mirror. it's summer and the beach is empty and the world narrows down to just the three of them--like this, happiness is within reach. donghoon stands a little apart and watches mujin carry taeju on his back waist deep in water, half laughing, half complaining about the roughness of taeju's damp shirt against the skin of his back. he loves them--he loves the beach, and he loves them, and they seem to love it back. he wonders what it would be like: a life where jiwoo would be here too, watching two guys she'd call uncle fall into the water and then splash each other's faces, and he wonders if its possible. if he could do it. if he could have everything he wanted right in front of him all the time. the sun shines down.

they get drunk on the blanket as the sun sets and turns the water orange. someone says the ocean looks like it's on fire, he doesn't remember who. it doesn't matter. they get drunk and they laugh and taeju falls asleep on the blanket and donghoon turns away when mujin takes a picture of him on his phone and smiles at it.

he takes them to the beach and doesn't think about betraying them at all.

[bakubub]

favourite time of year

w/c: 1.2k

written for @kal0psi-a 's halloween collab

folding the sticky dough carefully, just as the recipe instructed, i try my best to ignore the itching in my nose in a feeble attempt to stay concentrated, but give up when it starts to irritate my eyes.

"eughh, because of you there's flour in my nose," i complain to my boyfriend, who has his chin hooked over my shoulder and very heavily leaning over me.

"hey, don't complain! have you seen my hair?" he asks, stretching his neck to show me. sure enough, his hair is more white than it is black. i rake my hand through it before he can say anything, my dough covered hands clumping his hair together as an avalanche of flour sprinkles all over my chest.

he screeches, jumping back from me and i quickly use this chance to start running, because based on previous incidents, there's a 90% chance he will chase me relentlessly.

his cough from across the kitchen halts my escape plan, "are you happy now? i have flour in my nose too," he complains.

i watch in amusement as a cloud of flour puffs around him in the shape of a mushroom as he sneezes heavily, looking quite literally like a cartoon character and quickly near him to snap a picture. this will do nicely for the autumn section in this year's album.

since we started dating, tetsuro and i have been taking photos of one another, which we organise into albums by year, separated by season. it started when he gave me an album on our first anniversary, now, 6 years later and married, putting together an album of the past year has become tradition. each season we do an activity that correlates with the vibe, and today, we're making pumpkin pie with halloween shape indents because really, what else comes to mind when you think of fall?

i laugh loudly at the photo i took, his face caught mid sneeze, and it seems to flick the switch deep within tetsuro that i thought i had flicked earlier, and his feline gaze snaps to mine, before lurching forward in an attempt to catch me. i move just in the nick of time and run to the other side of the bench. he chases me until we're playing cat and mouse around the bench like children, slowly stalking one another as the other makes it as though they're backtracking but running forward instead.

"give up, wicked witch!" he exclaims, putting his right hand on his heart and holding the other outwards as he closes his eyes, apparently overwhelmed with emotion, "it is i, prince tetsu-" in the midst of his theatrics, i move in for the kill. his need for dramatics is most definitely his achille's heel, i think as i stab him in the hip with my fingers, and he yelps, opening his eyes only to find the mouse catching the cat.

"and the wicked witch of fall wins!" i yell, jumping up and down, getting flour all over the hardwood floors.

"fine, this round goes to you. your reward? a magical kiss from your prince charming," he says, leaning in and halting my celebration.

"the prince kisses the witch? haven't heard this fairy-tale before," i mutter before he silences me by placing a soft but unhurried kiss on my lips. my hands automatically make their way around his neck, and i lean back slightly as his hands firmly hold my waist, providing protection and support even in a moment as miniscule as this. in the glow of the autumn sunset, painting our kitchen with a golden hue, with the man i love in front of me, everything is perfect. we break off, his forehead leaning on mine, neither of us moving away.

"this is our fairy-tale, with its own happy ending."

looking up, I'm met with his golden brown stare, the small specks of gold especially visible in this lighting, practically glowing. his white turtle neck hugging his form nicely, and his raven hair sprinkled with flour, i can't help but wonder if this is what we're going to be like in the future, when we've lived our lives, and grown old together; the only indication of our age being the salt and pepper hair, and the slightly more prominent lines around our eyes from spending a lifetime of smiling.

because that's how it would be, i think, to have tetsuro next to me for eternity, to smile and to laugh every day.

he has to kneel down considerably to reach my lips with his own, to rest his forehead on mine, but the look on his face and the emotion in his familiar, beautiful eyes reflect nothing but comfort and content, genuine even as he says stupid and cliché things. in a way, he’s promising me nothing but a life full of the music of our happiness.

"i love you, witch," he whispers, as if afraid to ruin the moment by speaking.

i kiss him again, before pulling out my secret weapon and dumping more flour over his head. "love you too, prince!" i screech as i run away. i hear his chuckles as he chases after me, muttering empty promises of revenge just as he did before, and every other time, and hopefully, if my luck holds out, every time after.

---

"okay, nod gonna lie, dis ith really goo-dh" i say, speaking with a mouth full of the pumpkin pie we finally got around to baking.

i watch him snap a photo of me, smiling through my full mouth, knowing full well i have pie all over my mouth and teeth.

“you’ve never looked better, babe,” he says, chuckling, before trying it himself, moaning through his full mouth, "oh mhy gohd." i roll my eyes as he continues, "baby, thth is fudding amathing," he says, taking another, and then another bite.

“slow it down, moron. you’re going to choke and the wicked witch is going to have to ruin her comfy position to give you the heimlich,” i say, my legs crossed on the carpeted floor with my feet nice and warm in my thick panda bear socks.

“how abouth we sthip straighd to the kith of life?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows with a mouth full of pie.

"how about you shuffle the cards, prince? i'll pick a movie," i suggest, or rather order, raising my brows. he salutes sarcastically as he sets down his plate and goes to get our worn out deck of uno cards.

"i thought you were a witch, not a princess," he mutters once he swallows his pie.

"actually, i married the prince so that legally makes me a princess. c'mon tetsuro," i say, pressing play on a random comedy to play in the background.

with the fireplace going under the television, and our pumpkin spice and cinnamon candles lit, the room is cozy, warm and calm.

that is until tetsuro yells his profanities about me placing a 2+ on his 4+.

"THAT'S NOT ALLOWED! YOU CAN ONLY PLACE A 4+ ON TOP OF A 4+"

"since WHEN?! THIS WASN'T THE RULE LAST WEEK!" i scream back, refusing to back down. i am not picking up four cards. "i would never cheat. unlike YOU," i accuse, shoving another fork full of the pie into my mouth in defiance.

he dramatically gasps shoving a fork full of pie into his own mouth, and glares at me. i glare right back, both of us wordlessly agreeing that whoever loses the staring competition loses the uno argument. ignoring the burning in my eyes, i keep my expression neutral as i watch the tears building up in tetsuro's lashline, his right eye twitching and turning slightly red.

"YES!" i scream as he blinks, wiping his eyes and sighing dramatically before beginning to pick up six cards, unable to come up with an excuse.

i laugh mercilessly and we continue the game, which i ended up winning after he picked up another 12 cards, flashing me the 'please have mercy on me' eyes every time he reached for the deck.

"you really are a wicked little witch aren't you?" he mutters as he gets up. i snort in response, eating the last of my pie.

"i wanna another slice," he announces. "you want?" nodding eagerly, i give him my plate.

"i want a slice with a bat," i call out, referring to the misshapen shapes we cut out on the top layer of the pie.

when he came back, he halted at the door as he silently watches me set up face masks and mani-pedi equipment on the coffee table, the entire pie tray with two forks, instead of two slices, in his hands. i raised my eyebrows, and he mirrors my expression towards my makeshift salon on the floor of our living room.

we both shrug and he comes and sits next to me, picking up a face mask packet and reading the description.

"ooh! aloe vera!"

that's how we ended up watching shitty comedies all night with white face masks on and stomachs stuffed with pie.

---

laying in bed my head resting on tetsuro's shoulder and my hand rhythmically stroking his hair, i bask in the feeling of comfort and my mind being stress free. shielded from the cold night with a million blankets and the massive man sleeping next to me, with my especially cold, numb feet tucked under his thigh, i match my breathing with his easily as i follow after him into a deep slumber.

because that's what the season of autumn is about, really. taking it easy after the adventurous months that were spring and summer, to rewind and become a home-bug again as the weather cools down. and these moments with tetsuro?

these moments are what makes this my favourite time of year.

ahhh this was so, so fun!! special thanks to @/kal0psi-a for organising this entire collab <3

[rogue-durin-16]

FIREWORKS AND STREAMERS

Request: I have been insecure about my curly hair lately and was wondering if you can you write something with one of the weasley twins where the reader is insecure about her curly hair and one of the twins makes her feel better.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff!Reader

Genre: fluff

Tags:

Requested by: @wildcat1434

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: none

A/N: So like, incoming fluff bc this idea was cute and sometimes I do be needing fluff, that's about it, enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The relationship between me and my hair had always been... Bumpy, you could say.

There were periods in which I would find it quite lovely; during those times I would let my curls free, showing them off with a proud demeanor, knowing my hair was unique. Those times began to turn less and less usual since the middle of third year, though they were still there.

However, after the summer prior to my sixth year, those moments had banished; I only wished to hide my hair, and my friends ended up noticing. They told me surely there would be a spell or potion able to change my hair.

As if they had summoned it, the next day in Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall introduced us to what seemed like my salvation; Crinus Muto, an advanced spell that modified the caster's hair with no restrictions.

My best friend advised me against using it, claiming it wouldn't help my insecurity— if only, it would worsen it.

I really wanted to do as she had told me and completely dismiss the spell's existence, but two nights after I had a big mental breakdown about it, caused by the most stupid thing ever.

"Is Weasley staring at you or am I blind?" One of my friends whispered, her eyes trained on the Gryffindor table.

I didn't even bother to look up, not wanting to know whether it was true or not, before responding with a quiet "You're blind."

"I mean, it's hard to tell with two rows of students between us but," She nudged me, urging me to avert my gaze from my dinner and redirect it to Fred. "it kinda looks like he's... staring."

Curiosity killed the cat, I guess. My eyes finally left my plate and were, in fact, met with Fred's brown ones. As soon as they met, though, he looked away, pretending to be focused on his food, just like I had been doing seconds ago.

"Of course he's staring." Hannah Abbot, who sat right in front of my friend, commented with her mouth full. "Have you seen your hair?" She swallowed her food, looking me up and down before adding, "No offense, but it's an absolute mess." My eyes opened widely in shock at her bluntness. "You should take care of it, really."

"Has someone ever told you you're an ill-mannered bitch, Hannah?" I heard my friend talking back at the younger girl while I got up and started to make my way out of the Great Hall.

Of course, I didn't see Fred shooting up and attempting to go after me; ultimately he decided to stay in his place, since he saw my friend walking out too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was very aware of all the pair of eyes that had been laid on me the very moment I entered the greenhouse where we would be doing the Herbology tasks.

When I had met my friends at the Hufflepuff common room that morning, I had received divided opinions about my straight hair. At first I had been very convinced that it looked way better than my curly hair, but seeing my friends' reaction, I wasn't that confident about it anymore.

I didn't have time to undo the spell before class, so I decided to go along with it and see how the day unfolded.

I took a deep breath, my eyes trained on the ground as I made my way to an empty seat; maybe there weren't that many people staring, maybe it was just my anxiety.

I finally gathered the courage and looked up, nervously scanning the glasshouse so I could shake off my fears.

There was only a couple of my peers staring, which would have put me at ease, if one of them wasn't Fred Weasley.

On top of it, of course, he wasn't even trying to be subtle, it was almost as if he wanted me to notice his judging eyes; I could feel his gaze on me for the entire class.

The instant Professor Sprout dismissed us, I shoved everything in my bag and left the greenhouse, thanking a couple of Gryffindors who complimented my hair on my way out.

Again, I didn't notice Fred leaving the class as soon as he could to run after me.

I threw my bag against a tree near the lake shore and, as I fell against it, I heard someone jogging in my direction.

"In a hurry to sit by the lake, Y/l/n?" I followed the tall ginger with my eyes while he circled me and sat down by me. "You alright?"

"I just needed a break from... People." I vaguely explained, focusing on the water instead of on the boy besides me.

"Understandable." He hesitated for a second before adding, "Do you want me to leave?"

"No, it's fine." I surprised myself at how calmed and collected I sounded, as if I wasn't chatting with my crush.

"What happened to your hair?" His genuinely curious inquiry took me aback, and I struggled to find something to answer.

"Why?" My heartbeat picked up, anxiety inundating me once more. "You don't like it?"

"It looks weird." Fred looked at me up and down with a grimace. "You don't... Look like yourself." I was about to enter fight or flight mode, but he seemed to notice, and panic made its way to his face. "But it doesn't matter what I think," he was quick to add, his eyes wide open as if he knew he had said something he should have not. "I mean— I think it shouldn't matter, if you like it, that's great— I mean, you don't need my opinion about that either!"

"Calm down, I understand." I tried to reassure him, before his rambling drove the both of us crazy. "Can I tell you a secret?" He nodded with pursed lips, surely afraid he would fuck up if he spoke again. "I've been very insecure about my hair lately— like, very." I sighed. "My best friend told me not to straighten it, but last night I got a not so nice comment and—"

"So that's why you left?" I nodded, tugging my sleeves. Fred went silent for a moment, and then cleared his throat and scooted closer to me. "I know this won't do much, but I really love your hair. Kinda reminds me of fireworks and streamers." He gestured around his own head, mimicking the fireworks' movement. "Dunno I think is fun and pretty awesome." I raised my brows at him in surprise. "Like you."

"Aw, that's very sweet." He offered me a sheepish smile as I felt my cheeks blushing. "It does a lot, actually." I confessed, fidgeting with my rings. "I guess I kinda needed to hear something positive about my hair."

"Well, whenever you need to hear something positive about your hair," he pointed at himself. "I'm your man." He winked at me and I let out a chuckle. "I can also tell you positive things about you in general, but that has a price."

"And what is it?"

"You'll have to let me buy you a drink at The Three Broomsticks this Saturday." I tried not to let panic slip through my recently eased demeanor; was he asking me on a date? "And give me a kiss after." He wiggled his brows at me and my face turned red. "the kiss is negotiable."

I casted my gaze down, fixing it on my shoes, not sure of what I was supposed to say at that. His foot tapping mine snapped me out of my thoughts.

"So?" My eyes traveled to him once more, only to find his studying me already. "What do you say, Y/l/n?"

"Well," I shrugged, trying in vain to play nonchalant. "Seems like an affordable price, so it's fine by me."

"I'll pick you up after lunch, yeah?" Before I could agree, he gasped, his eyes going wide. "I'm a genius."

"Come again?" I frowned, confused as his sudden frantic behavior.

"Don't mind me, love." He jumped up and jogged towards the castle, leaving me puzzled in there. I was about to grab a book from my bag when Fred rushed back, crouched down and pecked my cheek. "Your hair's amazing." He assured me. "See you!" My fingertips graced my now flushed cheek as he headed off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was finishing my lunch when two towering redheads entered the Hall running; while George, slowed down, Fred made a beeline to the Hufflepuff table, his casual clothes already on.

"Ready?" He asked breathless.

"Yeah— you didn't have lunch, did you?" I pointed out, getting up to stand in front of him.

"No, but I'll eat something later—" his eyes roamed over my carefully picked outfit before stating, "You look... very pretty."

"Why, thank you." I offered him a smile and looked over my shoulder at the Gryffindor table, where his friends were very attentive to all we did. "You sure you don't wanna eat something?"

"Hundred percent." He tilted his head towards the gates. "shall we?" He prompted to walk before him, and it was then that I realized he had his hands behind his back. Once we were out in the yard, he tugged my hand and made me turn to him. "I made something for you."

"You didn't have to." Was the first thing that came to my mind when I heard his words. Then the wording dawned on me; he didn't get me something, he made me something. "What is it?"

"So, you know that I told you your hair reminded me of fireworks and streamers?" I nodded, not quite knowing where he was going with that. "Well—" he then showed me what his back was hiding; a delicate, tiny firecracker with my name written on the side. "George helped me so I could finish it on time."

"I'm—" at my loss of words, I could only let out a happy laugh. "This is so cute— am I supposed to ignite it?"

"Duh!" I gently pushed his shoulder in response to his teasing. "Do you know how to do it?"

"I've seen you do it plenty of times." I admitted, grabbing the firecracker with one hand and my wand with the other; it looked so pretty, it was a pity I'd have to ruin it.

With a brief firemaking spell, the firecracker set off. Fred pulled me back slightly before it happened, though.

I was in awe at the beautiful fireworks before us, which looked like a color-changing, expanding version of my hair.

When the colors died out, I turned to Fred, whose attention was already on me, awaiting for a reaction. Surely, he was not expecting the kiss he got, but he didn't complain either; while my hands rested on his chest, his traveled to cup my cheeks before I could pull away.

"So you liked it?" He questioned quietly against my lips.

"I loved it." I whispered back with a wide smile. "You're a sweetheart." I pecked his lips before retreating. Holding his hand in mines, I made my way back into the castle. "We're not leaving until you have lunch."

"You are a sweetheart." He responded, following my lead without offering resistance. "By the way, your hair looks gorgeous." The corners of my lips twisted into a bigger smile at the sweet words he spoke only for me to hear as we went back into the Great Hall.

Maybe my hair wasn't that bad after all.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Unexpected Places (Pt. 11 of 11)

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless X Reader/Bjorn X Reader

Word count: 2 K

Summary: As a princess, you've lived in a golden cage all your life, always a piece on someone else's game. But everything changed when the Norsemen came crushing down on Wessex, like waves in a violent storm. Their king spared your life and decided to take you with him to his kingdom, in what felt more like a rescue than a kidnapping. There, you were not only confronted with a completely different culture and lifestyle, but also with two of his sons. The oldest one has his eyes set on you, but it's the youngest one, Ivar, who gets who claimed your attention since the first sight. And he seems to have an unnamed interest in you. Of course you hoped whatever that was would pass, but when unexpected feelings start to flow a different way, things begin to change.

<- Previous part (10)

{Vikings Masterlist}

×

Home

Walking slow, you keep up the pace of a heavily pregnant Aslaug. The news of the child on its way came on the last day of the feast for your wedding and it was well-received by everyone. The snow falling gives Kattegat an amazing look, with everything painted white. The ocean is starting to freeze, but there are still boats coming and going, doing the last trades by sea before the ice keeps them away, having to endure the walk instead of sailing here.

Heading to the main hall, you stop when Aslaug stops, a hand on her swollen belly. “Everything alright?”

“Yes. I just need to lie down for a while.” She answers, setting in motion again. “Ragnar sons are always–” She's cut short once you enter the hall, the high number of people gathered around getting both your attentions. “Did something happen?” She asks, raising her voice. Ragnar comes to stand beside her, very protective ever since he found about the pregnancy.

You make your way to where Ivar is, seated on Ragnar's throne. “What's going on?” You ask him. “Bad news?”

“Boats were seen sailing this way.” He answers, gesturing, and dismissing the men. “With your brother's flag.”

“What the hell does Aethelwulf want?” Shrugging your shoulders, you stand beside Ivar, who takes your hand and places a kiss on it.

“Ask father.” He says, clearly annoyed.

Raising an eyebrow, you look at Ragnar. “Last raid I might have left implied that you were here on Kattegat, so... I think they came to take you back.”

“Why would you do that?” You inquire, hands on your hips.

“They were really pissing me off.” Ragnar justifies, and you roll your eyes.

“Are they coming for war?”

“No,” Bjorn says, entering the hall and dusting off his clothes from the snow. “I don't think they're planning on battle us, on our ground, with such few people.”

“Good. It means I can just tell them I don't wanna go and they'll leave.” Sighing, you look at Ivar. “And here I was planning on asking you to take me on the next raid.” You complain to Ivar, shooting Ragnar an angry glance. “England came to me.”

“Missing home?”

“Are you seriously asking me if I want to sail for weeks, stay on a camp in the woods for the entire summer for any other reason than to staying with you?” Faking an annoyed tone, you raise an eyebrow at Ivar.

Giggling, he bites his lip, nodding his head. “My mistake, princess.” Winking, he turns his attention back to his father. “Let's do what we have to do and get this tiny problem out of our lives so I can enjoy winter with my wife.”

“Speaking of enjoying the winter, I'll fix myself a warm bath and I hope you to join me.” With that, you turn around and head inside, ignoring the low chattering your words caused.

The word got out, you think, about Ivar being able to perform sexually. But since you were the first one to know, you don't mind the gossip.

The girls don't take much time to get everything ready, and you let them help you undress before you step into the tub. You always use Ivar's tub now, since you just moved into his bedroom after the wedding. As if you weren't sleeping here before. A few moments later you hear Ivar coming inside, taking off his clothes before joining you, making the hot water spill off when he moves inside, settling down next to you.

“You're so beautiful.” He whispers, immediately pulling you into a kiss, and you can't help but smile as you cave in, running a hand through his chest.

“Thank you, handsome.” You mutter when you pull away to breathe, biting your lip.

“Won't you even consider it?” You don't follow, so you pinch your eyebrows together, looking at your husband.

“Consider what?”

“Going back home.” There's fear in his voice, and that's a sentiment he only shows to you.

Ever since the announcement, Ivar has been listening to some rude things. People are mean, some of them at least. They say you'll leave him, trade him for a full man. That you'll get tired of him soon enough. You've been into awful arguments with some people about it, and Ivar have nearly killed a man a few weeks ago. With time, these comments are fading away, but it always gets to him. And when it happens, it's your mission to reassure him your love hasn't changed, it has only gotten bigger.

“I am home.” Caressing his cheek, you smile. “This is where I belong.” Your voice fades when you remember you have something to tell Ivar. It's been a while since you've been feeling odd, and your period is very late. “Actually, I need to talk to you about something.”

He furrows his eyebrows, a question on his face. “What is it?”

You know he wants kids, you've always knew. And you've been waiting until you're sure. And you're kinda sure at this point. “Ivar, I... I may be with child.” Speaking low, barely a whisper, you focus on his expression, trying to read it.

But you don't need too much. Ivar's lips break into a smile, and he kisses you deeply, until you're out of breath. “I'll be a father.” He says when you pull away.

“Yes, you will. And if it depends on me, you'll have a bunch of children, my love.” You can't wait to tell everyone, to let them know Ivar can do what they all doubted.

“I love you, (Y/N). More than everything.”

“We need to talk names now.” Giggling, you caress his face. “Everyone will have a suggestion.”

“We'll have to do it later.”

“Later? Why? Are you planning on doing anything now?” Smirking, you don't need any other answer than the kiss he gives you, and suddenly all the rest is put aside for a moment.

°°°

Hours later, when the sun is about to set, you're at the docks, watching as the two boats approach. A great number of people came too, of course, to see how it'll play out. There are soldiers, ready to fight if that's the case, but if it depends on you, it won't come to that. It doesn't look like they're here for war.

It gets your attention when one of the men, standing on the edge of the ship, recognizes you. He raises his eyebrows, but you don't show any expression. Slowly, he and a few men step out of the boat, eyes scanning through the Vikings, ready to defend themselves and their leader. That's when you recognize the man, Sir Wilfred, one of your father's man, now working for your older brother. He was kind to you, so you don't have your walls all the way up.

“Princess (Y/N).” He greets you with a small smile, taking your hand and placing a kiss on it. “It's a true blessing to find you alive and... Well.”

“It's good to see you too, Sir. Hope you made a safe trip here. But may I ask why did you and such a small army bothered to sail all the way to Kattegat?” Cutting straight to the point, you offer him a small smile. Ivar, who stands beside you, gets a worried stare from Wilfred, and you can feel his anger emanating.

“King Aethelwulf, your brother, sent us. After Ragnar Lothbrok told him you were here, brought by your own will, he decided to give you a chance to reconquer your old life, as a princess, by his side.” There's more than he's saying because you know your brother. It doesn't sound like something he would say. Aethelwulf wants you back because he can't even begin to imagine who would want to stay here. And he's ego demands him to try and get you back, so he can present you to his court, telling them how you came back to your senses and abandoned the barbarians.

“Tell my brother I have no intention of leaving Kattegat.” You begin, getting a weird expression from Wilfred, and some of his men start gossiping with each other. “I made myself a home here, among the Vikings. I even married one.” Gesturing at Ivar, you have to bite back the laugh that threatens to emerge at the surprise on Wilfred's face. “This is Ivar the Boneless, my husband and the father of the child I'm carrying. And I believe you know him very well Sir.”

“My princess, I don't understand–”

“I'm thankful for this... Rescue party you brought with you across the ocean, but I don't need to be rescued.” Cutting him off, you step back a little, gesturing at the people who stand behind you. “This is my place now, my people. My house, my King and Queen, my husband and friends. I'm not being held against my will. In fact, I didn't come against my will.” You raise your voice, so all of his men will listen, so the truth can find a way to your brother's ears. “With the same people you call soulless, barbarians, monsters, I found great happiness, something that I never had back in England. And I apologize if you had to endure such a journey for nothing, but I won't be going with you. And, just in case you were ordered to take me by force, I must advise you not to try it. Because you will lose.”

“My princess, those aren't the orders,” Winfred speaks again, clearly uncomfortable. “King Aethelwulf commands that, if you are indeed here by your own will, and refuses to return home, he will tell your people you died, and never again you'll find refuge in his kingdom.

Laughing a little, you shrug your shoulders. “So be it.” You simply say, looking at Ivar, who has a smile on his lips. “I'm not going anywhere.” You tell most to your husband than to anyone else. “It was good to see you one last time, Sir Wilfred.” But now I must ask you and your men to sail away from Kattegat. Your presence here isn't welcome.”

“I wouldn't stay even if you invited me, Prin... (Y/N).” He quickly corrects himself, and the change of humor makes you giggle.

“I wasn't planning on inviting you, Sir. Have a safe trip back to England.” Nodding at him, you turn around, walking away with Ivar next to you. Everyone steps out of your way, and you notice how some of Ragnar's men take a position to follow the Saxons back to their ship and until they're far enough from the town.

The commotion soon stays behind as you make your way back home, the wind, which gets colder by the day, messing with your hair.

“I love both of you,” Ivar says, out of nowhere, making you stop on your tracks by the main hall's entrance.

“What's that now?” Squinting your eyes, you stare at him, a chuckle caught in your throat.

“You make me happy. Like I never thought I'd be.” He comes closer, a hand on your belly. “This child is the very image of what we feel. And I never thought I'd ever love someone this much. Or that someone would love me even though–”

“Well, I love you. Just the way you are.” Your heart warms up at his smile, genuine and kind. “Now, let's get inside. It's getting cold.” Taking his hand, you pull him inside.

Many things are on the way now. The child, the raids, on which you do want to go every once in a while. The road is long and full of surprises, but you're willing to enjoy every step of the way. You never thought this would be how your life turned out, but as crazy as it is, it's good. It's the proof that love and happiness can be found in the most unexpected places, and you found both those things in a town across the world, with people who live in a completely different culture, in very different ways. But you would do it all over again, and now that you're here, you'll never take things for granted. You'll never trade this for anything else, not even for the throne of Wessex. This is far more valuable than all the crowns of the world.

×

@multific @revolution-starter @crackhead1-800 @youbloodymadgenius @clown-boyyy @kitten0394 @castielsangelx-blog @goldlion07 @midnightmystic @readsalot73 @xvxcarolinexvx @momowhoo @fangfoxy @msrawog @walkingonshunshine @alytavzla @anotherfan07 @heavenly1927 @msrawog @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

[thatonecitykid]

I bet on Losing

Hey everyone! Sorry this is so sad.. was already crying so might as well make everyone else cry.This takes place after Endgame but during the same time as Far From Home. Listen to "I Bet on Losing Dogs" by Mitski for the full experience. Word Count: 2517. Have fun angels :)

Peter had finally left for his class trip, Pepper and Morgan had gone to spend their summer in Malibu, the remaining avengers were either in space or had completely disappeared from your life. Here you were after five years of your life had evaporated, and after all this time you had to play your fathers role for all the remaining avengers. You hadn't had the opportunity to cry when you first learned about what had happened. You couldn't cry at the funeral, not because you did not want to, but because you felt as if your father wouldn't want to see it. No one wanted to leave you alone, but after months of trying to dig some type of emotion out of you they had assumed that the death and slow disappearance of your makeshift avenger family had unaffected you.

You finally had the opportunity to exist alone. You had also finally mustered up the strength to visit secluded cabin your father had lived in for the last five years of his life. Although you had been given the keys immediately after the funeral, something about visiting the area made you feel uneasy. Not necessarily creeped out but just as if you did not belong, after all it was something your father invested in after you had already blipped away for several months.

You drove up to the cabin alone, slowly unlocking the door as if to not start or whoever may be inside. Before even entering the cabin, it looks clean, you assume that Pepper has had people cleaning constantly to maintain the cabin. It made sense, it was something she's cherished. You stepped into the cabin slowly and began to look around. The walls were lined with framed pictures of Morgan, family pictures of Pepper, your dad, and Morgan, and random posters and vintage albums. Although you were not the one to complain about it, having no evidence of your existence in the main areas of the home caused your heart dropped. As you wandered through the kitchen and the main family room, there is no evidence of Tony's life prior to the blip, just a somewhat normal family of three.

You decide to wander to the basement area, leaving the office and bedroom spaces upstairs for later. There was a large sitting area that you assumed they watched movies in. There was also a playroom painted pink featuring all sorts of gadgets very similar to those you grew up with that Tony had made for you. Towards the back hall of the basement, it was a glass door to your father's workshop area. You open the door gently and made your way in.

Despite looking like somewhat of a mess, you knew that behind the madness there was a method. You could tell that although your dad left in a hurry, things were placed in specific spots very similarly to how he did in every other one of his workshops. You walked towards his swiveling chair, noticing a metal box with a button on the worktable. You press the button and jump back as a life-size hologram of your father appeared in the room. He began

"Hi Pepper. My love, my muse, my boss. If you are listening to this then I did the one thing you have always told me not to do. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all the worry I've put you through, and I am sorry for taking myself away from you. I was a gift wasn't I. You've already seen another version of this message, but it never hurts to see your face again my darling."

The tears in your eyes begin to form, not because you had not expected to see your father. At this point you had already seen the message he had left after the funeral; It was only really meant for Pepper and Morgan, never addressing you.. At the funeral you refused to enter the cabin but as you watched the message while standing outside, Happy looked over at you with remorse but you kept a straight face again. Who were you to complain at your dead dad's funeral? Yet this message radiated the same energy.

As the second portion of the message began to play tears began to fall faster. It almost feels like an out of body, sure your dad had taken up different kids during your time growing up, but this message made you feel as If you had been completely replaced. Although it felt like a dumb theory there was no evidence as to your existence prior to Morgan.

"Hello my little scientist. How's my favorite person. Daddy is really sorry I can't be there right now. Be a trooper and hug you mom for me real quick. Now you must be surprised because I'm supposed to be the strongest dad in the world but let me tell you kid, sometimes crazy things happen when put on the ironman helmet. My little minion I love you 3000. My love for you is infinite. You have been and will forever be daddy's best friend."

Here you were crying over a child who had also lost her father, filled with jealousy over the fact that you father had chosen her and failed to consider your return but had prepared for Peter's return, still had projects waiting for Harley, and had in fact set up a stable plan for Morgan's future. At this point you were sobbing, what had all felt like a bad nightmare and jumping to conclusions had started to feel way too real. This emotion was even stronger than when you watched footage from your father suit as the snap happened, this emotion felt like a stab in the back.

Maybe he never loved me.

You tried to collect yourself but were still sobbing when the holographic figure of you father disappeared. You might as well finish the house tour before leaving. The upstairs portion of the house featured Tony and Pepper's room, Morgan's room and two other doors. The main bedroom was tidy and organized, with a closet full of clothes that both Pepper and your dad had left. You walked into Morgan's room and did a quick look around, not wanting to invade child space. Returning to the hallway you opened the door to your father's office. Inside there was a rather simple with a desk, a leather chair, and two matching chairs. The plants in the room were growing well, meaning someone still came to water them. There were a few pictures on the wall, including Peter's Stark internship picture, and a random picture you took of the original Avengers after their first New York battle. On the desk there was another metal box similar to that in the workpace. You argued whether or not you wanted to potentially break your heart more before giving in, siting in the leather seat and pressing the button.

A slim beam of light scanned over your face, confirming your identity, and the box began to play. To say you were shocked is an understatement, as your father's hologram appeared across the desk sitting in one of the matching chairs.

"Hello Munchkin. If you've found this box, then I just going to have to accept that I've failed you. You've been gone for five years and regret every moment leading up to when you snapped away. You really did want to come to space with me, and honestly you would have been helpful, but I don't think I could see you Blip away and have the will to continue. That being said because I am already admitting I was wrong, I should not have had your suit take you to the bunker room, where you eventually snapped away alone. I regret that decision y constantly. On another note, I'm sorry I didn't hug you as soon as you got back, I clearly I cannot really hug anyone."

You had finally given up on holding in their tears. You didn't have to be strong in front of your dad. He had always held you when you cried and this time he couldn't. You tried to wrap your arms around yourself, but nothing felt the same.

"I hope you are crying, because if I'm crying alone during this part, I'll be embarrassed, his image continued as it stood up and leaned against the back of the chair. Munch I know you've probably walked around this house and have found no evidence of yourself. You've probably beat yourself up about how much I love Morgan, but think about it. The amount of time I've spent these last 5 years essentially idolizing you would not have been good for her to experience. "

You rose quickly from the chair. Not even one damn picture?

"Now I know you're wondering not even a single picture. Pick up the projector box and follow me ."

You did as the digital version of your father told you and followed it back into the hallway.

"Put the box down and put your hand on the center of the door. "

This activated a scanner which opened up the door to the room. As you walked in you recognized that this was an exact replica of your room back in the Malibu house. You were still a kid when the original house was blown to pieces but somehow everything was exactly as you remembered it. As you walked further into the room you noticed the large screens, placed like picture frames, which played videos and pictures of you and your dad throughout the years.

Your father walked towards the center of the room, bounded by how far the projector was.

"You see kid, me and you have somewhat the same grieving styles. I have a feeling you didn't cry at the funeral. I have a feeling you haven't cried, at least in a way that someone else could have noticed. You take after me in that sense."

The hologram started to sniffle, your dad had actually started crying when recording this. You really wanted to hug him, the reality of his death hurt even more. You had finally allowed yourself to start grieving.

"Look, I know you used to listen to the song about betting on losing dogs when you wanted to cry, but that does not apply to you at all. You may have gotten a more complicated stick of life, but I can tell ya, this does not need to be your villain origin story. From the first day I took you home I could tell you were a fighter, but I need you to feel as if its ok to cry. I've spent hours on this floor in shambles wishing you were here. The small things that Morgan does that remind me of you throw me into sadness pools constantly. You are my motivating force. I really hope you allow yourself to cry about it so that you can continue in life. I don't think I can stand in this room for any longer before I cannot speak at all, so please take the projector back to my office. "

As you lifted the projector you thought about how much this must have hurt your father to record. Maybe he didn't want anyone to encounter this box except for you. As you placed the box on the desk, you sat back into the leather chair as your father's holograph sat across from you.

"On a different note, you are probably wondering why I seemed to set up a game plan for everyone but you. With Morgan I just made sure she had a comfortable, who am I kidding, lavish funding behind her. I can't dictate what a five-year-old should do. For Harley you know that I've always looked out for him, a position in Stark industries honestly should not have surprised you. Peter is what I feel most conflicted about. I'm not setting him up to become the next Ironman, I'm setting him up to become the greatest version of Spiderman he can be. Well, I know the media is probably going to take it and run having known that Spiderman and Ironman we're friends at some point, but I'm really giving you the biggest responsibility. I don't expect you to live in my shadow, I want you to outgrow it. I think you might be surprised to see everything that I left you, besides Stark industries itself. That's a conversation for another day."

"I know I've been speaking for quite a while, but my baby, my baby yes I called you that. I know how much this has all affected you, and I'm sorry, I am completely sorry and do take full fault for it all. But now because we cannot change the past, let's focus on the present. I want you to know that I loved you with my entire being. I'm not sure how to emphasize this enough but I do want you to know you were cared for, you were loved, and you were thought about for every minute. If you don't get to see this message, and I'm already gone, that means this message will never have to play for anyone. Either I found you and I've given you a new message, or I'm rolling in my grave. Either way my darling I cannot emphasize how much I love you. I do hope for the best for. Before I have to go, I want to see you smile. Sure, I can't physically see it right now, but I can imagine it."

As the recording choked out that last sentence, you flashed a weak smile. A face sticky with all the tears that you have been crying.

Now I know you need to get back home, but when you get back to the city, stop by the shawarma place and get something to eat. you gotta eat Darling. Also don't act like you don't like Peter, you two idiots keep pushing each other away in cannot take it. Now I'm gonna say goodbye mini me. Watch over Pepper and Morgan for me, okay? I love you."

You took one final sweep of the house before heading back to your car. You had cried so much that your eyes physical hurt. You almost felt a sense of comfort having finally released some of the pent-up emotion. As you drove towards the city and towards the Shawarma place you almost felt kind of sad, knowing that all of your friends were in a foreign country. Yet you still felt as if your best friend, your Dad was watching over you. And in all reality that felt as if it was the only thing that mattered.

[heresathreebee]

Brackish And Briny Waters (three)

[Ralph Lamont X Female Reader]

Summary: Spend the weekend painting the house with your husband. Previous Masterlist Next

Tags: 17+ | 1.6k words | Painting a house together, aka domestic stuff, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, pulling out, vague mention of rats.

AN: part 4 is gonna get angsty I just finished it

Anything involving greens was a heavy battle between you two, as Ralph seemed to have some kind of vendetta against them. The more blue you got, the less you fought and you eventually settled on a cool tone to use for the laundry room with a compromise to paint floral accents in a forest green tone along the edges of the back wall. You did find an exact replica of one of the original wallpapers in your second bedroom which you wanted to move to the living room. 

Colors selected and purchased, you went home starving and managed to scrape together some left overs with a side of rice to fuel you to start on the real work. You also bought brown paper to cover the solar room window holes until you can finish that room as its own project. 

Ralph rolls up his sleeves and puts on his bleach stained lounge pants to help. You lay down tarp and use up 3 rolls of tape to cover the kitchen and the dining room. Every window and door is wide open as you set your record player to play some 'whistle while you work' type of albums. And whistle he does that husband of yours, enjoying your company and shaking his hips dramatically to make you laugh. You two haven't had this much fun in so long it feels like. 

The summer citrus color you chose for the kitchen was really working for you. Ralph intended to put the wallpaper up in the other room to get 'double the work done' but still you find him working the same wall just to be close to you. You talk about missing that classic NYC pizza and dinner tomorrow and Ralph promises to ask his colleagues about any music shops in the area. 

You take a nap on the porch swing to get away from the paint fumes, an iced tea almost slipping from your hand. When dinner time comes, you cook while he details the removal of the old wallpaper from the dining room to work tomorrow. He's rambling about using a third coat on the living room paint and you don't think it's necessary but you know he'll agree with you come morning. 

"Come eat Ralph Vincent," you scold him for getting paint on the door frame but all is forgiven when he sweeps you into a hungry kiss. 

"I'd rather eat you right now." 

Ralph's flirtations are interrupted by his own ractious growling stomach and you laugh at him as you shove a plate into his hand. You eat together by the window in the living room. While it hasn't been painted yet, you have moved the furniture to the middle of the room and the fumes from the kitchen and dining room are still very strong. You hope it doesn't affect your sleep tonight (or hope it puts you down like a dose of melatonin). 

"Floyd's got a boat," Ralph tells you. "Says he takes it out on the water almost every day. Asked if I wanted to join him." 

"And are you?" You spin another forkful of angel hair spaghetti on your plate. 

Ralph slurps his like a child. "Am I what." 

"Are you going to join him on his boat?" You speak slowly and patronizingly. Ralph pinches your breast and almost makes you drop your plate. "No. I hate boats. I hate water. I don't want to be trapped for hours out there listening to him talk about paintings and philosophers, at least at work I can walk away." 

You chuckle. "I think Floyd sounds very interesting. What do you have against him?" 

"Nothing," he protests, "he talks too much. He's loquacious– that's what Justine calls him, and she's one to talk. If you must know, he's actually my favorite– he knows when to keep his nose out of my business." 

Dishes are made slightly more difficult with Ralph hanging off your shoulders. He peppers kisses up and down your neck, even finds a hickey from the morning that's started to fade and he remarks you. You dig your dripping fingers into his hair when he finds that spot on your neck and gives it some much needed attention. 

"Ralphie, baby, please," you whisper, "I could use your help with these." 

Dishes are done in record time and suddenly you're being whisked away to your bedroom (not that you were complaining). This room has the wallpaper that you had no intention to change aside from a fresh upgrade. Ralph takes your hand to spin you around and back you into your shared room all the way to the edge of the bed. Along the way he plants kisses from your hairline to your collarbone before he lets you fall atop the thick quilted bedspread. 

He gazes at you with a warm expression. The soft "my girl" he whisperes makes your heart swell. 

You expect him to pick up your legs and pull you by your knees to the outside of his hips (want him to even), but Ralph has other ideas it seems. It's not until his head is between your legs that you realize what he's up to (or rather down to). You gasp a lung full of air and grab him by the hair of his head. 

"Jesus," you sigh. 

Your husband's rumbling laughter causes your thighs to twitch. "Say my name, I'm the one doing all the work." 

"Yeah but you love– aha!" His beard brushes your inner thighs and leaves a delightful burning sensation in the deepest part of your soul. "Fuck…" 

You pull his hair harder and feel the soft locks stretch in your bloodless grasp. You can feel that immortal coil wind tighter and tighter inside you as Ralph devours you. You start chanting his name, the pitch of your voice beginning to crescendo the closer you get to that fire cracker ending. Ralph doubles his efforts, eager to have you fall apart on his tongue and fingers. 

He's more than making it up to you tonight. 

When you come, your body curls in on itself and your thighs lock around his head, effectively deafening him. You have no idea if he can hear the scream that rips from your body but you can't either as your eyes rolls back in ecstasy. 

You relax onto the bed and feel it dip with an additional weight to your side. You slide into Ralph's easy embrace, his dry hand coming up to hold you to him and just rest for a bit. 

"Fuck," you say huskily, "you're really good at that…" 

Ralph kisses you in answer, trying to deepen the connection but you have to twist away to catch your breath. Instead he plants lingering, sweet kisses on your neck, your cheek, your hair. His hand caresses your back in circles until you're nearly asleep from the motion. 

You flinch when you feel his nose brush against yours. "Baby… don't fall asleep." He sounds so sweet until his voice darkens and he says, "I'm not done with you yet." 

You lose track of time and all you can feel is Ralph Lamont. You're both covered in a sheen of sweat and his hips rock leisurely into yours. You don't know who grabbed who but your hands are tangled together and refuse to let go. Ralph's breath dusts over your neck, cool in contrast to the fire of his physical form pressed against you. You want to come again but you let him draw it out, let him love you tonight. 

"Ralph." You whisper in his ear, begging with no pressure to change pace. You're happy if he's happy and he is very content to keep thrusting into you to his peak and slow down, never stopping but always making you want more. Your man kisses you flush on the mouth and adjusts his position. His thrusts change. They grow from hypotonic and shallow to a little hard and more purposeful. You moan at the feeling, your legs locking around his hips to draw him deeper despite your exhaustion. 

Your orgasm washes over you nice and gentle, nothing like the force of the first time. You're conscious enough to lock your ankles around Ralph's hips, but it still doesn't prevent him from slipping his flushed and reddened cock out and finishing on your stomach as he always intended. You feel a strange tickle of disappointment as you come down from your high but push it to the back of your mind for later. 

Some way, somehow, Ralph still has enough strength to clean you both up and tuck you into bed. He curls around your body despite the near unbearable heat and falls fast asleep, his soft snores right behind your ear lulling you under the tide of sleep. 

DAY FOUR

"Morning." 

Your Saturday is awash of more painting and moving furniture with Ralph. He made coffee and eggs and brought it to you in bed, then dragged you down to look at the frayed wires on the clothes dryer machine. 

"Might be rodents," you muse. "I'll get some traps on Monday and find my soldering iron." 

"We'll get traps tonight," your husband countered, scratching his chin, "the sooner the better." 

You finish removing the old wallpaper in the living room and carefully put up the new one with little fuss. The kitchen still smells of paint but it's dry (it had better be, you left the windows open all night and it's freezing in here) so you put the kitchen utensils and appliances back and remove the protective tape and brown paper. Ralph is proud of the precision work done in the corners and edges, patting himself on the back and yours. 

"We did good babe," he said, "by this time next week, we'll have the whole house done!" 

You laugh at his optimism. There were still cobwebs to dust, cracks to spackle, floors to polish, windows to replace. This was the very reason he picked this place… 

To keep you busy. To keep your mind from wandering to those dark places that linger in your past. 

At least it was working.

Tagging people who might like to know: @werwulfy @hoodoo12 @escape-your-grape @go-commander-kim @fundamentally-lazy @mimiscappinisideblog do y'all wanna be here? If not lemme know please 😅 DM me

[interstellarrambles]

could I perhaps request something fluffy for Bonnie? like he takes his so out in the country for a date, like a cute picnic or something!

@peakyrogers I apologise for the long wait, I really hope this is everything you couldve asked for my dear, please enjoy!

requested, bonnie gold × genderneutral!reader

warnings: none! pure fluff

picnics. bg.

alone, you sat on the steps of your vardo, a warm blanket around your shoulders and a head full of daydreams about your lover sleeping behind the door. the mug clasped between your fingers was doing well at warming your previously chilly bones and waking you up for the day ahead; camp had been set up a few days ago and Bonnie had told you he wanted to spend the day with you alone, now you finally had the time.

speaking of your love, he must have been exhausted: the previous night had been a lively celebration with music and dancing (and lots of kisses from you), his whole family congregating in one place before they headed off in groups this morning. you and bonnie and his immediate family would remain here until word from Birmingham arrived on his next fight, when you would have to trawl back to the city against your will.

a small fire nearby provided a calming background for your dreaming, interrupted only when your lover gently opened the door, warning you of his presence. a quiet "good morning" slipped between your lips as you welcomed him with a fast, adoring kiss, wary of the fact his father sat not too far away and would surely tease you given the chance.

"heya pretty baby, how do you feel about a picnic?" he whispered in your ear as he embraced you fully now he was no longer leaning to reach you. his raspy morning voice, tainted by sleep, still managed to bring a flurry of butterflies coursing through you and you almost blushed at the pet name.

"I couldn't think of anything better, but you need to get dressed first Bon," you giggled, pointing out his current state of undress. though, you of course weren't exactly complaining about seeing him shirtless in only his trousers.

knowing he would want you to help him tame his curls you followed him back into the varda, gently tapping his bum as you went.

one tantrum about wanting to pull you back into bed for more loving later, and many moments spent teasing his curls into the messy version of them that was your favourite,  you were both laying in a random field. splashing out slow sibilance with its rushing water, a nearby brook played a melodious backing track to your afternoon as the two of you talked about pretty much anything and everything.

somehow, much like a headstrong river, you meandered onto the topic of the future, one you'd never really thought of before.

"well what do you think?" bon ventured nervously, gently moving his face away to watch the birds gathering in the sky so he wouldn't have to see your face in response.

"I never considered it. I always thought it'd happen, like marriage or settling down, but never had anyone in mind," you whispered carefully, not needing any unnecessary noise to disturb your sunsoaked peace. thinking about it for a moment, you turned to bon and in an attempt to ease his nerves, you kissed his cheek and coaxed him to look at you properly.

"there won't ever be anyone else Bon, it's always going to be you," tenderly, he traced shapes on your neck with his thumb, eye to eye with your gentle gaze he had never felt anything so strong as his love for you.

"what about my boxing?" he replied, though he couldn't stop the smile on his face from blooming.

"what about it darling? you'll win and I'll celebrate with you, same as always," and there it was. you kissed him, and he swore it was still the first time, just like it always would be, you dissipating his nerves and making him feel truly alive.

up close, you could see his freckles, darker now in summer than they would be any other time, and you marvelled at the sweet wonder of your lover. his hands swept down to your hips and rested there content; his lips still warm against your skin, the river still flowing, though it seemed somewhat more lively now. as if rejuvenated by the colossal force of young love at its finest and adoration in its purest form.

everyone believes their lover is better than any other but with Bonnie, you knew it was true. and he knew it of you too.

[penisman420-69]

A gentle glow from the computer screen washes over the dark desk, colors flickering in rapid motion. The monitor whirs in self defense of the growing heat. The ceiling fan lays mockingly silent in the stifling air. Reclined in his seat, Dream's head is tilted back to watch the wooden slats for the slightest tremor.

Betrayal.

Beads of sweat collect near his hairline. He tugs absently on the sticky plastic of his headphones, where they rest around his neck. The small light on the exterior blinks green.

"Dream?" He hears George say faintly.

"Wait, did he leave?" Sapnap asks.

"It says he's on the call, still." George's voice slowly grows closer. Dream begins to detach his eyes from the fan. "Dream?"

The concern in his voice makes Dream sit up. He pushes his headphones back on and wipes his face. "Yes, yes, hello, sorry. I zoned out for a sec." He blinks to register what's on his screen, seeing green grass blocks and Sapnap's avatar crouching in front of him. "Shoot, did you end the stream?" He quickly tabs out just in time to see George laugh.

"No, but I'm about to. Couldn't end it without you saying bye," George says. The small considerate act is enough to bloom a warmth in Dream's chest.

He smiles. "Oh, alright. Bye stream!"

"Bye!" Sapnap yells.

George waves to the camera. "Bye you guys, thank you so much. Also, pray for Dream's air conditioning."

"And my broken fan," Dream adds.

"Bye bye," George repeats, then disappears from Dream's view. This stream has ended. A familiar feeling creeps into Dream's chest whenever that message appears post-stream; disappointment clouded with confusion. Today, it is accompanied by trickles of regret.

He frowns. "Sorry I spent so much of your stream complaining about the weather," he says, clicking back to the server. Sapnap has placed an oak sign before him that reads: wee waa dream can't take the heat. He rolls his eyes and breaks it.

"It's fine, really. I just feel bad for you," George says. His avatar bounds over and starts placing doors on the ground. "Any idea when it'll be fixed?"

"Soon, I hope," Dream answers with a huff, opening and closing the doors to appease George. "I don't think I can take much more of this." They'd been playing for the past three hours, meaning Dream had been accumulating enough sweat in his boxers to stick to his chair for much longer than any man should. Physical comfort was a key component for him to stay mellow, and not much could distract him from itchy tags and blistering heat. Not much, that is, besides gaming. "Seeing you was nice, though, something about your cheerful face distracts me from my agony," he confesses, words leaving his mouth before he can attempt to filter. He cringes. What was that?

"Oh my god, shut up," George says. He sounds embarrassed.

Sapnap coos. "Maybe I should stream with my camera on too."

Dream laughs, running away from the two of them to ease his sudden spike in nervousness. "That would keep my attention."

"Oh yeah, are my streams not interesting enough for you Dream?" George says, flying after him.

"What?" Dream says, feeling a pang of guilt. "What makes you think that? I love your streams."

George continues to act offended. "If you loved them you wouldn't zone out randomly."

"I didn't mean to," Dream whines, which only makes the other two laugh. "I just got distracted by my misery, and tried to airbend a breeze in here."

"Yeah right," Sapnap says, "you couldn't have been doing just that for ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?" Dream repeats, bewildered. He didn't feel it had been that long; he was exploring the map and then clicked onto George's stream to see where he was, and of course George was smiling and yelling, but somehow so full of energy and spirit, and the hot air started to seep into Dream's soul—

"You were AFK for a while," George says, "we were still talking to you though and thought you'd muted yourself or something. Chat thought it was embarrassing."

"Oh," Dream says.

"Hold on, did you mean to mute yourself?" Sapnap asks, laughing as his own words leave his mouth. "Lil too excited watching George?"

Both Dream and George explode in disgusted yells. Good lord, Sapnap.

"Sapnap!" George sends a series of hits raining down onto his avatar. "You are so inappropriate off-stream."

"You're gross," Dream says with a laugh, but it's feeble and half-hearted. His pulse is rapidly drumming inside his skull. He is not lost to the strange dilemma of why he faded from their call for so long to stare at his George-less ceiling. Why did George have anything to do with it? Envy, perhaps, of his friend's ability to be wearing a hoodie in the middle of summer. He brushes it off. "It's true, though. George's face does get me excited."

George groans, making Sapnap and Dream laugh. "Now you're just trying to make me uncomfortable."

"Flustered, you mean," Dream inputs quickly.

"Okay, no, I'm sick of you two," George says, immediately exiting their server. "Consider this a rage quit."

GeorgeNotFound has left the game. Dream sends a :( into the chat.

"Noo, Georgie," Sapnap pleads.

"You did a great job today," Dream says, wholeheartedly. "I'm going to re-watch what I missed of it later." George laughs.

"I seriously have to go. I'll talk to you soon," he says, a small sound emitting from Discord signifying he's left the call.

The feeling returns to Dream's chest—it's akin to the cold rush that follows when he removes his hands from a steaming coffee mug. Some nights after their friends have logged off for good, he'll do anything to avoid giving in and going to bed. Twitter, mini-games, coding, creating playlists. His favorite nights, though, are when George wakes up early enough to keep him company. Their conversations radiate with the warmth of both the Florida night and the English sunrise.

So whenever George jokingly becomes angry with him, Dream can't dispel the tiny tremor of worry that maybe he's gone too far. He doesn't like to mull over the thought of them really fighting; it would terrify him like nothing else. He knows George will call again tomorrow, and that he isn't nearly as upset as he lets on. Yet he still finds himself carefully watching the dot next to George's name switch from green to a pale grey.

"I think I'm gonna hop off too," Dream says to Sapnap.

"Alright, seeya."

After disconnecting, he swivels around in his chair to face his bed. The dark comforter has been kicked to the floor, sheets askew. The window above his bed is shut tight to keep out the humid air and insects, but he can see the soft orange streetlights in the distance.

He sighs and wishes for rain.

He remembers running barefoot on his neighborhood streets as a child when storms would roll in from the sea, splashing in gravelly puddles and letting the cool raindrops dampen his hair. That space was always euphoric—a brief temperance from the smoldering air, green palm trees swaying in the wind, the hint of thunder and lightning—but it feels so far from him now. Especially in this dreadful weather.

He turns off his computer and begrudgingly gets in bed. He's nearly grown accustomed to the dark when his phone vibrates, the notification lighting up the room. He squints.

A text from George.

I feel like this song is a good way for me to get back at you, it reads. Dream clicks on the link, opening his Spotify to a new 'Glass Animals' song.

"Heat Waves," he responds, smiling. Very funny.

He'll listen to that in the morning. As he sets his phone back on the nightstand, Dream finds himself warmed by the gesture, even though it was an insult on his behalf. George is a thoughtful guy. Nothing wrong with appreciating that. Not that Dream finds it unnerving that interacting with George has a direct correlation with his general contentment and moods; in fact, it isn't worth the overthinking.

Settled by his own logic, he allows his body to focus on sleep. He slips in and out of shadows, occasionally tossing and turning in irritation at the cotton sheets. The fabric clings to his dampened skin up to the moment he sluggishly kicks it away. Something clatters to the floor, but Dream rolls onto his side.

Eventually, the night cools enough for him to sink deeper, and deeper, until he turns his head from his soft, warm pillow to a cold pile of sand.

Confused, he grasps at the foundation beneath him only for the rocky grains to slip through his fingers.

He sits up rapidly, glancing at the beach now surrounding him. Although the image is narrow, he can tell there is a murky-purple lagoon lapping a few feet before him. The moon ripples across its ominous surface. The night is quiet; a taunting breeze brushing the back of his neck and bringing chills down his spine.

He looks down at his hands, seeing his bright sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. Bright green.

A sinking feeling begins to rot in his stomach as the familiarity sets in. He's been here before. He shifts his head cautiously, realizing where the shadows at the edge of his vision are coming from, and raises a hand to gently graze the ceramic covering his face. He doesn't need a mirror to know what the mask looks like.

He pulls up his hood, tensing as he anticipates the next subject he'll recognize. At any moment, behind his right shoulder, a voice will call from the edge of the trees that'll say—

"Dream?"

He freezes. That's—that's not right, it isn't supposed to be—

"George?" He asks quietly, turning around with caution. George stands a few feet behind him, goggles perched atop his head and an axe in his hand. He's looking around their location, dazed. The starry sky reflects itself on his lenses.

He walks across the sand towards Dream slowly. "Where...are we?"

"Um." Dream considers curling in on himself, but can't help fighting the comfort of honesty. "My head, I guess." He knows from experience that this place values integrity more than anything. Facing it head on, so to speak. He just doesn't know why he'd let George in here—it isn't safe.

"It's pretty," George says, sitting on the sand next to him.

Dream's heart aches faintly at his remark. Once, he'd thought it was pretty, too. He can't find the words to tell George that after so many years of frantically slipping on the sand, coughing up lung-fulls of the dark water, and running from the woods—it has become a thing of nightmares.

He stares at George. Can he feel the memories here?

"So this is..." George gestures around with his axe vaguely. "Florida?"

Dream cracks a smile. "Yeah, you finally made it," he teases softly. George's grin is bright enough to make him look away. "It's a lagoon I used to come to as a kid."

"You make it sound like that was lifetimes ago."

Something foreign and lost weighs on the tension in Dream's features, forgotten behind the ceramic. "Maybe," he says, "I've had multiple lives here."

George says nothing. He lifts a moon-soaked hand to point at the water. "Do you see those?"

Dream turns his head, and small glowing blobs appear near the shore. Their light blue color is stark against the darkness as they float idly.

"They're moon jellies," Dream says in disbelief. He's never seen them here before. The curling darkness steals all hint of life besides him, his beating heart, and occasional whispers in the wind.

George hums in approval. Dream looks at him again, grateful for the mask covering his own features. Pale moonlight makes George's skin glow a soft porcelain, pink lips pressed together in a delicate brush stroke.

The word bubbles up from deep in Dream's chest, winding into his bloodstream and landing gracefully in his head.

Beautiful.

He wants to back away from it, to shove it deep down. But for once, it feels safe here, safe to admit it to himself without needing an air of humor to skate by on. Here, it isn't a joke.

"Why are we here?" George asks in a murmur, gaze lifting to face Dream. The word here hangs with a heavy lilt, as if he'd meant to say, what brought me? Who pulled me?

Was it you?

In his large brown eyes Dream can see the faded reflection of his sloppy black and white smile.

"I know why I'm here," Dream says carefully, "but I don't know why you are." A brief rustling of leaves and twigs behind them causes him to tense again. "It's dangerous here, George. We should go."

"Why? Don't you want to stay in this memory?"

Dream ignores the comment, and lightly wraps an arm around his shoulders to help him up. George doesn't try to stand. He keeps them rooted to the white shore with a confused frown.

"Nothing is going to hurt us when I'm here," he says.

Dream feels his face grow hot. "Knock it off. This is serious."

George looks at him earnestly. "I'm being serious."

Now that his arm is draped protectively over George's small frame, Dream becomes extremely aware of how close they are. He can sense George's body heat, watch his chest rise and fall, see the goosebumps on his neck. Dream's heart begins to pound. For how long has he wanted to meet him? To hear his voice in person? The fear inside him slowly begins to ebb away into fondness.

The moon jellies rapidly multiply until the lagoon is dappled blue, and gleaming.

George grins. "I told you it's pretty."

"Because of you," Dream says warmly. Even though George rolls his eyes, he means it. They laugh lightly at each other, glowing water and gentle sparks blooming as the moment passes.

George's gaze lingers on Dream for a few heartbeats, before letting go of his axe. He raises his hand to reach for the ceramic mask.

Dream freezes as his eyes follow the motion. His hood falls when George runs his fingers gently through his wavy hair—he can't remember the last time he let someone do this. It feels intimate. It feels terrifying. His eyes shut when George finds the metal clasp on the back of his head, he exhales when he feels the weight of the mask drop from his face.

The breeze is cold on his cheeks. He can smell the nearby saltwater. He opens his eyes, and sees twice as many stars as usual.

"How did you do that? I've never..." He looks at George, who is smiling softly.

"I know honesty is important to you," George says. His hand moves to gently touch Dream's cheekbone.

Dream reaches and delicately takes George's hand in his, slender knuckles and fingers sliding together with timid grace. He feels alive. He leans closer, studying George's eyes until he slips down, further, to his soft lips. His breath is trembling.

"And what if I kissed you right now?" He murmurs, heart racing. "How honest would that be?"

George's eyes grow wide. "I—well, Dream—you—" he stammers, giving Dream exactly what he needs to let go.

Their movements happen nearly all at once—the inclining of George's jaw, the slide of Dream's hand into his hair, the connection of their lips. The kiss is raw with emotion, and gentle. Hot embers rise from Dream's chest to heat his face. The soft presence of George's mouth against his own is surreal, as their senses collectively slip away into the dreamland. His hand rises to softly cup George's jaw. He pulls his face closer, breath hot, heart stuttering. Nervous energy quickly ebbs into a strong hearth of longing, as he kisses George again, and again, and again. George emits a soft noise that makes Dream melt. He can feel George's hands in his hair, then on his neck, then on his chest.

Dream pulls away to capture brief puffs of air. His chest rises and falls rapidly, as he looks at George's flushed cheeks and mouth kissed red. Because of him. A low feeling stirs in the space just below his ribcage, the first flickering of a dangerously hot flame. All of it, all of George, just for him.

Dream parts his lips to say something, anything—and promptly wakes up.

I have heatwaves saved on my computer it doesn't phase me anymore I've read this several times you can't hurt me with this

[babiekeiji]

Yamaguchi is so underated,,,, I'll take anything. First date hc's, crush hc's, whatever you have in mind idc,,,,,just show him some love,,,, thabk you

omg man at this point anything tadashi is priority on the list

Gravity (Always Brings Me Back To You) — Yamaguchi Tadashi

You’ve known Yamaguchi your whole life

No, it’s not that whole cliché your-parents-are-best-friends trope nor is it that boy-next-door type of friendship

You’re Tsukishima’s best friend!!!

So after Yamaguchi starts hanging out with Tsukishima, the three of you instantly become inseparable

The summer before high school starts, and all three of you are attending Karasuno

You spend most of your summer outside of Japan, living your best life

Tsukishima doesn’t even bother asking how you’re doing, he just asks you to bring him back food

Yamaguchi, however, texts you everyday and always asks how you are and what you’ve been up to; probably sends pictures of Tsukishima and him everyday

Always up to greet you good morning and good night, always mentions how much he misses your company and that hanging around with Tsukki w/o you just isnt the same

Though you look at Yamaguchi as a friend, you can’t help but feel special whenever he mentions that he wants you back in their company

You don’t see each other until the first day of high school, and boy

Tadashi???? Has gone from boy to MAN

The amount this dude has grown over the summer is just?????? You used to be at par in terms of height, now he’s a whole 12000 feet taller than you

His features are a lot more prominent too not that you’re complaining

But this obviously is like the grounds for when you start thinking of Yamaguchi Tadashi as a man

These days as you hang out with Tadashi alone you really, really get to take a good look at his face, and wow—his face isn’t “that bad”

One time on the way home Kei had ditched the two of you since his mother picked him up

So it was just the two of you walking home alone; it was still fun even without Kei

He held your hand the whole way home; and though you didn’t know what that meant you still got butterflies just thinking that Yamaguchi Tadashi, man candy, Mr Good Looking, held hour hand and was conscious of doing it—wanted to do it too

Though with Tadashi suddenly hitting puberty also comes new feelings and perspectives for him

So the day Tadashi suddenly starts distancing himself from you you’re left confused and anxious

What did I do wrong? He seems fine whenever he’s around Tsukishima...have I changed ever since I came back?

Despite the sudden distance Tadashi never forgets to let you know he still cares

Buys you that bread you like from the caf whenever you forget to bring your lunch

Helps you study sometimes

Walks you home when Tsukishima can’t be bothered to

Lends you his jacket

But always looks away when you make eye contact

Stops talking to you outside of school (unless its for homework)

Gets awkward whenever you talk to Tsukishima and him

And you just can’t figure out why he’s being like this

So you decide to distance yourself too and start hanging around Yachi and Hinata instead of Tsukishima and Yamaguchi

But of course, we can always count on the reliable Tsukishima Kei, jack of all trades, master of none to patch things up when he’s tired of your bullshit

One day Tsukishima invites you over to his place

And of course you go, because you nd tsukki are still good friends

You do nothing but laze around with him the whole afternoon

Suddenly he pipes, “What is up with you and Yamaguchi? It’s starting to annoy me how distant you guys are being”

You give him a pointed look. “Nothing is going on between the two of us,” you sigh, and its only then that you realize how much you miss the freckled boy, “Yamaguchi just doesn’t like me anymore, I guess.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes, “You got that right.”

“Y’know if you invited me over just to insult me I might as well leave,” you stay sternly, and suddenly Kei is panicking, “I don’t know what the fuck you and Tadashi have been up to these days but if it’s shit like this then maybe I’m glad to have left the two of you alone.”

“What the fuck,” he says, and chases after you as you leave, “No, yn, jesus—yamaguchi just had some feelings he needs to sort out”

“He didn’t have to put that on me”

“Can you stop being difficult”

“No, let me go, I wanna go home”

“You literally live right next door”

“Exactly, I wanna go home”

“Hey.”

You turn to look him in the eye and soften once you realize he’s actually pleading for you to stay

“Listen to me,” he explains. “You can go home and be a brat and bitch and moan all you want—”

“i WILL”

“—but remember this,” he continues, “Yamaguchi has good reason for trying to avoid you...for now. He just needs to sort some of his feelings out.”

“Well, whatever feelings they are,” you pull your hand from his grasp, “you can tell him I don’t care about them at all.”

Great, you think to yourself, I’ve made things awkward for me, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima now.

One day you’re coming back from lunch with Yachi, and you make eye contact with Yamaguchi in the hallways

He tries his best to wave to you in the least bit of effort to say hey, we’re still friends—but realizes it might be too late when it’s you who finally decides to look away first

From that point on just tries his absolute best to reconcile with you

Leaves you little candies on your desk before school starts

Sometimes little notes like “You’re beautiful!” And “I love seeing you happy :)”

One day a note comes that says “You’re still my best friend” and you just start bawling

You just don’t know what you did wrong and you miss your friends

That same afternoon, when everyone leaves and it’s only you left to pack up in the classroom, Yamaguchi approaches you (albeit quite cautiously)

“Hey,” he starts, and it’s obvious he’s flustered by the way he rubs his nape, “Can we talk?”

“Oh,” you scoff, still keeping your stuff, “You wanna talk to me now?”

“Yn,” he calls, and looks you right in the eye as he says, “Don’t make this any harder than it’s supposed to be.”

“Motherfucker this is supposed to be hard on YOU??????????? you left ME, Tadashi! Remember that!!”

“Which is why I’m trying to make amends!” He explains, hands flailing nowhere. “Please. Let me explain.”

You look to the clock. It’s 5:25 pm.

“You have five minutes of my time.”

“You don’t need to worry,” he replies, “I only need two.”

lowkey your heart was THROBBING LIKE WHEN DID THIS SOCIALLY AWKWARD BOY LEARN TO MAKE MOVES LIKE DET DMFMFKEOWKE

“Ever since you came back home from Bali, or the Bahamas—wherever you went for summer—I started to look at you differently,” he starts, “I...I thought you were glowing, and suddenly every feature of yours was just so attractive to me I couldn’t handle it.

And you know, being without you for almost three months just made me realize that I really do like your company, and your stupid laugh and your lame jokes—it made me realize that I needed you in my life, yn. But all these feelings were just so weird—how could I be seeing my childhood best friend like the most beautiful person on earth?

So i tried to run away from them; I tried to run away from them by running away from you, in all hopes that they’d pass and we could go back to normal. But obviously; I was wrong. Being away from you just made my heart grow fonder, because whenever I saw you laugh I just thought to myself, that could have been something so good with me.

I like you, yn,” he states with all confidence he can muster, his olive tan skin glowing as it bathes in the evening sun, freckles dancing on the apples of his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose, and in that exact moment you can’t help but wonder how even after all this time, Yamaguchi Tadashi is the sweetest man of all. “I like you enough to think I actually love you.”

You blink; you feel like you’re about to cry.

Yamaguchi looks towards the clock, looks back to you and shrugs, “I’m sorry. I took three minutes.” He looks to you for a few moments before he clicks his tongue, and looks away. “Yeah, that’s all. You have every right to be mad at me, by the way—”

“Tadashi.”

“Hm?”

“Kiss me.”

His eyes widen, and a blush now develops on the apples of his cheeks, but Yamaguchi doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and bring your lips to his.

Everything about Tadashi is just as you remembered; his cologne still smells like him, his skin soft and bouncy to the touch, his hair still the same smooth it once was, and Tadashi’s lips taste just like the ice cream you had when you first held his hand

Though a lot about Yamaguchi Tadashi has changed, you know in your heart that he’s still the same, sweet boy he always was.

He pulls away, but not exactly; his lips are still on yours, eyes still closed, his face close enough for you to feel his breath on your skin,

“I love you, yn,” he mumbles against your lips, “I want you to be mine,” he kisses,

“Today,” another,

“Tomorrow,” another,

“And all the days after that...”

Needless to say, that same afternoon Tadashi’s lips are swollen and his chest almost physically hurts from the fast beating of his heart,

But that’s okay, since he’s headed home with a heart and a hand full of you, you, only you.

[seokmingiggles]

mm kinda same here tho, this summer i gobbled down more fruits than usual. my mother always complain abt how i don't touch a single seasonal fruit but this time i actually took my time to appreciate them n eat them<3 omg i definitely love mangoes TAT yum and litchis- hmm i don't have a particular food in mind but i love skillet bread with beef bone soup :P wby oh that's actually a good strategy XD but i don't think i could wait that long almost 3 weeks :o n did u see In The Soop has started coming out, I'll have to make a weverse account to watch it since it's not available on yt :'( ik Mingyu n his ARMSS, Joshua n Wonu TAT yeah

HI MARY i'm sorry for my delayed response 😭 i took some time off tumblr without planning to !!

mangoes !!! those are definitely a top-tier fruit :D i don’t eat them super often, but when i do, they’re always fantastic. omg i had some fancy miso ramen for dinner last night (the portion is so big so it’s actually what i’m about to reheat for tonight’s dinner too ^^) which is one of my favourites! it’s oddly spicy, though, especially for a miso broth.. but like,, my throat is kind of irritated from it today ?? sfdklj my tolerance is so low for anything spicy tho since i don’t eat spicy foods too often ><

since you sent your ask, i’ve caught up with gose!! the ttt ones never fail to make me smile, and this year’s episodes are no exception. yes, the arms!!! wait, i took a screenshot from one of the episodes just because cheol (one of my biases, keep in mind) was bias-wrecking me hard 😭 he was literally. standing there. and i couldn’t not look at him SDFKJLS

oh, and i recommend in the soop!! i’ve seen the first two episodes so far, and it’s basically like ttt (regarding the ‘casualness’ of its contents ? i guess you could call it?) but extended for a full week :3 there have already been plenty of cute moments so far :’)

[rikuphobic]

A gentle glow from the computer screen washes over the dark desk, colors flickering in rapid motion. The monitor whirs in self defense of the growing heat. The ceiling fan lays mockingly silent in the stifling air. Reclined in his seat, Dream's head is tilted back to watch the wooden slats for the slightest tremor.

Betrayal.

Beads of sweat collect near his hairline. He tugs absently on the sticky plastic of his headphones, where they rest around his neck. The small light on the exterior blinks green.

"Dream?" He hears George say faintly.

"Wait, did he leave?" Sapnap asks.

"It says he's on the call, still." George's voice slowly grows closer. Dream begins to detach his eyes from the fan. "Dream?"

The concern in his voice makes Dream sit up. He pushes his headphones back on and wipes his face. "Yes, yes, hello, sorry. I zoned out for a sec." He blinks to register what's on his screen, seeing green grass blocks and Sapnap's avatar crouching in front of him. "Shoot, did you end the stream?" He quickly tabs out just in time to see George laugh.

"No, but I'm about to. Couldn't end it without you saying bye," George says. The small considerate act is enough to bloom a warmth in Dream's chest.

He smiles. "Oh, alright. Bye stream!"

"Bye!" Sapnap yells.

George waves to the camera. "Bye you guys, thank you so much. Also, pray for Dream's air conditioning."

"And my broken fan," Dream adds.

"Bye bye," George repeats, then disappears from Dream's view. This stream has ended. A familiar feeling creeps into Dream's chest whenever that message appears post-stream; disappointment clouded with confusion. Today, it is accompanied by trickles of regret.

He frowns. "Sorry I spent so much of your stream complaining about the weather," he says, clicking back to the server. Sapnap has placed an oak sign before him that reads: wee waa dream can't take the heat. He rolls his eyes and breaks it.

"It's fine, really. I just feel bad for you," George says. His avatar bounds over and starts placing doors on the ground. "Any idea when it'll be fixed?"

"Soon, I hope," Dream answers with a huff, opening and closing the doors to appease George. "I don't think I can take much more of this." They'd been playing for the past three hours, meaning Dream had been accumulating enough sweat in his boxers to stick to his chair for much longer than any man should. Physical comfort was a key component for him to stay mellow, and not much could distract him from itchy tags and blistering heat. Not much, that is, besides gaming. "Seeing you was nice, though, something about your cheerful face distracts me from my agony," he confesses, words leaving his mouth before he can attempt to filter. He cringes. What was that?

"Oh my god, shut up," George says. He sounds embarrassed.

Sapnap coos. "Maybe I should stream with my camera on too."

Dream laughs, running away from the two of them to ease his sudden spike in nervousness. "That would keep my attention."

"Oh yeah, are my streams not interesting enough for you Dream?" George says, flying after him.

"What?" Dream says, feeling a pang of guilt. "What makes you think that? I love your streams."

George continues to act offended. "If you loved them you wouldn't zone out randomly."

"I didn't mean to," Dream whines, which only makes the other two laugh. "I just got distracted by my misery, and tried to airbend a breeze in here."

"Yeah right," Sapnap says, "you couldn't have been doing just that for ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?" Dream repeats, bewildered. He didn't feel it had been that long; he was exploring the map and then clicked onto George's stream to see where he was, and of course George was smiling and yelling, but somehow so full of energy and spirit, and the hot air started to seep into Dream's soul—

"You were AFK for a while," George says, "we were still talking to you though and thought you'd muted yourself or something. Chat thought it was embarrassing."

"Oh," Dream says.

"Hold on, did you mean to mute yourself?" Sapnap asks, laughing as his own words leave his mouth. "Lil too excited watching George?"

Both Dream and George explode in disgusted yells. Good lord, Sapnap.

"Sapnap!" George sends a series of hits raining down onto his avatar. "You are so inappropriate off-stream."

"You're gross," Dream says with a laugh, but it's feeble and half-hearted. His pulse is rapidly drumming inside his skull. He is not lost to the strange dilemma of why he faded from their call for so long to stare at his George-less ceiling. Why did George have anything to do with it? Envy, perhaps, of his friend's ability to be wearing a hoodie in the middle of summer. He brushes it off. "It's true, though. George's face does get me excited."

George groans, making Sapnap and Dream laugh. "Now you're just trying to make me uncomfortable."

"Flustered, you mean," Dream inputs quickly.

"Okay, no, I'm sick of you two," George says, immediately exiting their server. "Consider this a rage quit."

GeorgeNotFound has left the game. Dream sends a :( into the chat.

"Noo, Georgie," Sapnap pleads.

"You did a great job today," Dream says, wholeheartedly. "I'm going to re-watch what I missed of it later." George laughs.

"I seriously have to go. I'll talk to you soon," he says, a small sound emitting from Discord signifying he's left the call.

The feeling returns to Dream's chest—it's akin to the cold rush that follows when he removes his hands from a steaming coffee mug. Some nights after their friends have logged off for good, he'll do anything to avoid giving in and going to bed. Twitter, mini-games, coding, creating playlists. His favorite nights, though, are when George wakes up early enough to keep him company. Their conversations radiate with the warmth of both the Florida night and the English sunrise.

So whenever George jokingly becomes angry with him, Dream can't dispel the tiny tremor of worry that maybe he's gone too far. He doesn't like to mull over the thought of them really fighting; it would terrify him like nothing else. He knows George will call again tomorrow, and that he isn't nearly as upset as he lets on. Yet he still finds himself carefully watching the dot next to George's name switch from green to a pale grey.

"I think I'm gonna hop off too," Dream says to Sapnap.

"Alright, seeya."

After disconnecting, he swivels around in his chair to face his bed. The dark comforter has been kicked to the floor, sheets askew. The window above his bed is shut tight to keep out the humid air and insects, but he can see the soft orange streetlights in the distance.

He sighs and wishes for rain.

He remembers running barefoot on his neighborhood streets as a child when storms would roll in from the sea, splashing in gravelly puddles and letting the cool raindrops dampen his hair. That space was always euphoric—a brief temperance from the smoldering air, green palm trees swaying in the wind, the hint of thunder and lightning—but it feels so far from him now. Especially in this dreadful weather.

He turns off his computer and begrudgingly gets in bed. He's nearly grown accustomed to the dark when his phone vibrates, the notification lighting up the room. He squints.

A text from George.

I feel like this song is a good way for me to get back at you, it reads. Dream clicks on the link, opening his Spotify to a new 'Glass Animals' song.

"Heat Waves," he responds, smiling. Very funny.

He'll listen to that in the morning. As he sets his phone back on the nightstand, Dream finds himself warmed by the gesture, even though it was an insult on his behalf. George is a thoughtful guy. Nothing wrong with appreciating that. Not that Dream finds it unnerving that interacting with George has a direct correlation with his general contentment and moods; in fact, it isn't worth the overthinking.

Settled by his own logic, he allows his body to focus on sleep. He slips in and out of shadows, occasionally tossing and turning in irritation at the cotton sheets. The fabric clings to his dampened skin up to the moment he sluggishly kicks it away. Something clatters to the floor, but Dream rolls onto his side.

Eventually, the night cools enough for him to sink deeper, and deeper, until he turns his head from his soft, warm pillow to a cold pile of sand.

Confused, he grasps at the foundation beneath him only for the rocky grains to slip through his fingers.

He sits up rapidly, glancing at the beach now surrounding him. Although the image is narrow, he can tell there is a murky-purple lagoon lapping a few feet before him. The moon ripples across its ominous surface. The night is quiet; a taunting breeze brushing the back of his neck and bringing chills down his spine.

He looks down at his hands, seeing his bright sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. Bright green.

A sinking feeling begins to rot in his stomach as the familiarity sets in. He's been here before. He shifts his head cautiously, realizing where the shadows at the edge of his vision are coming from, and raises a hand to gently graze the ceramic covering his face. He doesn't need a mirror to know what the mask looks like.

He pulls up his hood, tensing as he anticipates the next subject he'll recognize. At any moment, behind his right shoulder, a voice will call from the edge of the trees that'll say—

"Dream?"

He freezes. That's—that's not right, it isn't supposed to be—

"George?" He asks quietly, turning around with caution. George stands a few feet behind him, goggles perched atop his head and an axe in his hand. He's looking around their location, dazed. The starry sky reflects itself on his lenses.

He walks across the sand towards Dream slowly. "Where...are we?"

"Um." Dream considers curling in on himself, but can't help fighting the comfort of honesty. "My head, I guess." He knows from experience that this place values integrity more than anything. Facing it head on, so to speak. He just doesn't know why he'd let George in here—it isn't safe.

"It's pretty," George says, sitting on the sand next to him.

Dream's heart aches faintly at his remark. Once, he'd thought it was pretty, too. He can't find the words to tell George that after so many years of frantically slipping on the sand, coughing up lung-fulls of the dark water, and running from the woods—it has become a thing of nightmares.

He stares at George. Can he feel the memories here?

"So this is..." George gestures around with his axe vaguely. "Florida?"

Dream cracks a smile. "Yeah, you finally made it," he teases softly. George's grin is bright enough to make him look away. "It's a lagoon I used to come to as a kid."

"You make it sound like that was lifetimes ago."

Something foreign and lost weighs on the tension in Dream's features, forgotten behind the ceramic. "Maybe," he says, "I've had multiple lives here."

George says nothing. He lifts a moon-soaked hand to point at the water. "Do you see those?"

Dream turns his head, and small glowing blobs appear near the shore. Their light blue color is stark against the darkness as they float idly.

"They're moon jellies," Dream says in disbelief. He's never seen them here before. The curling darkness steals all hint of life besides him, his beating heart, and occasional whispers in the wind.

George hums in approval. Dream looks at him again, grateful for the mask covering his own features. Pale moonlight makes George's skin glow a soft porcelain, pink lips pressed together in a delicate brush stroke.

The word bubbles up from deep in Dream's chest, winding into his bloodstream and landing gracefully in his head.

Beautiful.

He wants to back away from it, to shove it deep down. But for once, it feels safe here, safe to admit it to himself without needing an air of humor to skate by on. Here, it isn't a joke.

"Why are we here?" George asks in a murmur, gaze lifting to face Dream. The word here hangs with a heavy lilt, as if he'd meant to say, what brought me? Who pulled me?

Was it you?

In his large brown eyes Dream can see the faded reflection of his sloppy black and white smile.

"I know why I'm here," Dream says carefully, "but I don't know why you are." A brief rustling of leaves and twigs behind them causes him to tense again. "It's dangerous here, George. We should go."

"Why? Don't you want to stay in this memory?"

Dream ignores the comment, and lightly wraps an arm around his shoulders to help him up. George doesn't try to stand. He keeps them rooted to the white shore with a confused frown.

"Nothing is going to hurt us when I'm here," he says.

Dream feels his face grow hot. "Knock it off. This is serious."

George looks at him earnestly. "I'm being serious."

Now that his arm is draped protectively over George's small frame, Dream becomes extremely aware of how close they are. He can sense George's body heat, watch his chest rise and fall, see the goosebumps on his neck. Dream's heart begins to pound. For how long has he wanted to meet him? To hear his voice in person? The fear inside him slowly begins to ebb away into fondness.

The moon jellies rapidly multiply until the lagoon is dappled blue, and gleaming.

George grins. "I told you it's pretty."

"Because of you," Dream says warmly. Even though George rolls his eyes, he means it. They laugh lightly at each other, glowing water and gentle sparks blooming as the moment passes.

George's gaze lingers on Dream for a few heartbeats, before letting go of his axe. He raises his hand to reach for the ceramic mask.

Dream freezes as his eyes follow the motion. His hood falls when George runs his fingers gently through his wavy hair—he can't remember the last time he let someone do this. It feels intimate. It feels terrifying. His eyes shut when George finds the metal clasp on the back of his head, he exhales when he feels the weight of the mask drop from his face.

The breeze is cold on his cheeks. He can smell the nearby saltwater. He opens his eyes, and sees twice as many stars as usual.

"How did you do that? I've never..." He looks at George, who is smiling softly.

"I know honesty is important to you," George says. His hand moves to gently touch Dream's cheekbone.

Dream reaches and delicately takes George's hand in his, slender knuckles and fingers sliding together with timid grace. He feels alive. He leans closer, studying George's eyes until he slips down, further, to his soft lips. His breath is trembling.

"And what if I kissed you right now?" He murmurs, heart racing. "How honest would that be?"

George's eyes grow wide. "I—well, Dream—you—" he stammers, giving Dream exactly what he needs to let go.

Their movements happen nearly all at once—the inclining of George's jaw, the slide of Dream's hand into his hair, the connection of their lips. The kiss is raw with emotion, and gentle. Hot embers rise from Dream's chest to heat his face. The soft presence of George's mouth against his own is surreal, as their senses collectively slip away into the dreamland. His hand rises to softly cup George's jaw. He pulls his face closer, breath hot, heart stuttering. Nervous energy quickly ebbs into a strong hearth of longing, as he kisses George again, and again, and again. George emits a soft noise that makes Dream melt. He can feel George's hands in his hair, then on his neck, then on his chest.

Dream pulls away to capture brief puffs of air. His chest rises and falls rapidly, as he looks at George's flushed cheeks and mouth kissed red. Because of him. A low feeling stirs in the space just below his ribcage, the first flickering of a dangerously hot flame. All of it, all of George, just for him.

Dream parts his lips to say something, anything—and promptly wakes up.

oop there’s the entire first chapter of heatwaves

[just-another-ficwriter]

Cruel Summer - Part Five

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader

Words: 4000ish

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, underage drinking, alcohol, implied smut

Summary: Sweet Pea turns up at your front door with a packed bag and no where else to go. When a few days turns into a couple of weeks, old temptations become a struggle.

Notes: I’m so sorry for how long this took, but I hope this makes the wait worth it!

 He looks up grinning like a devil.

"So let me get this straight..." You watch him cautiously from behind your kitchen counter, taking a minute to replay the last 10 minutes in your head. "Katy kicks you out because of our past and the first place you come is here?"

"Well I couldn't stay at Toni's with Cheryl could I?" His question makes you cringe and you both silently agree that Toni's place wasn't an option. "And Betty would never agree to Jug letting me stay when she's trying to remain impartial to the whole thing."

You let out a sigh, busying yourself with the first thing you can get your hands on just so you don't have to look at him. "I don't think this is a good idea Pea."

"My only other option is to follow Fangs back to Riverdale but my whole life is here now, my job, Katy-" You. He blinks back the thought hoping it won't roll off his tongue as easily as he thinks it. "Please? Just a few days until I can figure something else out?"

His pleading makes you risk a quick glance at him to find him already staring back, eyes full of hope. It makes you wish you hadn't bothered when your heart flutters and you know you won't be able to hold out much longer. "A few days, that's it."

"Thank you." He grins up at you, all perfect white teeth on show and has to refrain himself from rushing up and hugging you.

You smile back at him, lips pressed together tightly to suppress a laugh. He bites his bottom lip as the silence around you grows slightly awkward and you suddenly jump into action. "Did you want something to drink? I've got tea, coffee-"

"Anything stronger?" He cuts you off as his eyes flicker to your half empty wine glass on the coffee table in front of him then back to you.

"I'll grab another glass."

-

He lifts the wine glass to his lips, takes one big gulp and thinks about pouring another glass. Between the two of you, you'd finished off three bottles yet he still felt nervous at the thought of his next question.  "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything." You lean back on the sofa, your legs tucked underneath you and one hand under your chin. You watch as he debates how to say what he wants to, feeling a lot more relaxed than when he first got there.

"You and Fangs, did you... are you?" His words come out in a mess and he isn’t sure whether it’s the alcohol or his embarrassment. He feels stupid, it shouldn’t bother him but the idea makes his heart sink.

"Sleeping together?" You giggle loudly and for some reason it makes him laugh too. "God no."

He’s so relieved he lets go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding and starts to ramble again. "I just thought with you guys sharing a room, and I saw you in the car, then there was Katy and Ronnie all weekend-"

"Pea I would never." Your hand falls to his knee in what’s meant to be a sincere gesture but he flinches under your touch and it makes you regret it.

You're ready to pull it back and pretend it never happened when he covers your hand with his own to stop you, his eyes watching his own thumb drawing circles on your skin. "Good."

"Why?" You feel yourself gravitating towards him and you know you shouldn’t ask the next question but you do anyway. "Were you jealous?"

"What would you say if I was?" A few seconds of silence follows, his body moving forward an inch or two. He licks his lips in anticipation and you're sure your hearts about to burst out of your chest.

"I'd tell you, you were being stupid." That’s all he needs to hear to move again, your lips almost touching. You notice the way his breath catches in his throat, and whisper, with your palms against his chest. "We shouldn't do this."

"We definitely shouldn't do this." You knew there was a million reasons not to, but not a single one comes to mind at that moment, you were too distracted by the way he was looking at you, and how he good he smelt up close.

His lips met yours with such need, such desperation that you can’t help but give in immediately.

-

You wake up to the smell of bacon and an overwhelming sense of guilt.

You try not to think about the night before but it's hard to forget the feel of his hands on your thighs or his lips on your neck.

Or how good it felt.

You open your eyes to find his side of the bed empty and you're part relived, part disappointed.

So you shut them again instantly, pulling the covers over your head with a groan and wonder how long you can get away with hiding out in your room.

You last 11 minutes and 26 seconds before you can't ignore the rumbling in your stomach anymore and force yourself up.

You find Sweet Pea in the kitchen, shirtless back facing you as he leans over the stove.

Your heart stops when you see him like that. You've come a long way since you were teenagers playing house in his trailer but sometimes it's liked nothing’s changed at all.

You lean back against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest and watch him move around effortlessly like he belongs there. "Are you making breakfast?"

"Your favourite." He smiles warmly when you join him at the breakfast bar and then something clicks and he suddenly realises that this isn't his kitchen, and he hadn't asked before he helped himself. "I hope that's okay?"

"It's fine I just-" You can feel the heat burning your cheeks as you take in what he just said. It surprised you to hear he still remembers little details. "You still remember my favourite breakfast?"

"Of course." He states with a bashful grin, sliding the freshly made food in your direction. There’s something comfortable about his gesture and once again you’re reminded of your teenage years.

Memories you’d spent the last three months wishing you’d forget.

"Thanks." Your eyes don't leave the plate as you try desperately to gain some courage. "So we should probably talk about last night."

"Right last night." He turns his back on you again, making it impossible to read his reaction and the pressure on your chest becomes even more unbearable. You search your mind for all the things you need to say but it all seems impossible.

"Pea it was a mistake." The words end up coming out in a blur, like ripping a band aid clean off, fast and quick. You can hardly make sense of them yourself. It’s far from anything you’d hoped it would sound like. "We can't do it again."

"You're right, it won't happen again." You pretend to ignore the slight quiver in his voice as he agrees with you, his hands gripping the work top. When he turns back around he's still smiling but his eyes look anything but happy. "Let's just forget about it."

-

You know it's a bad idea before you do it.

You don't know why you slip into his t-shirt that's somehow mixed in with your own clean washing a week after he'd moved in, but the way it falls to your thighs makes you smile anyway.

You don't hear his keys in the door, too busy in the kitchen with a spatula that doubles as a microphone to notice.

It isn't until you're on to the chorus, dancing along with the lyrics that he can't control his laughter and blows his cover leaving you frozen to the spot. "Don't stop on my account."

"This is so embarrassing." Your body feels like it’s on fire from his teasing and you pray for the ground to open up and swallow you to avoid your awkwardness. "I thought you were at work."

"Early finish." His beaming grin turns into more of a smirk and there's a playful glint in his eyes that you can't miss.

Your gaze follows his to your current choice of clothing and you're even more mortified than before. "I should probably get changed."

"I wouldn't complain if you didn't." Your draw drops slightly as he shoots you a wink, leaving you speechless as he walks backwards towards his room. "My shirt looks good on you by the way."

You can’t shake the look he was giving you for the rest of the day.

-

"Pea I home!" You’re barely managing to juggle everything in your arms as you call out to him. Somehow a few days had turned into two weeks and he didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon. "I grabbed takeout if you want any!"

You don’t hear him coming but you can sense how close he is behind you, the warmth of his breath tickling your neck and sending a shiver down your spine. "Chinese food and left-over cupcakes, you're too good to me."

"And you're naked." Your eyes are wide when you turn to face him, and you can feel your chest heave slightly at the sight.

"I have a towel on if that helps." He takes a step closer and you take one back. But that doesn’t stop your eyes from following the water droplets that fall from his shoulders, over his chest and down his stomach.

You don’t need to look at his face to know he’s well aware of the affect he has on you right now.

"It doesn't." You roll your eyes, but he knows you don’t mean it. He just laughs instead, backing off so you can plate up. But it doesn’t stop your mind from wondering or have your heart beating any slower.

His little games were starting to become relentless.

-

Three weeks in and it’s hard to remember what your apartment was like before Sweet Pea moved in.

He’d invaded every inch of home. He never put the remote back in its place, he always left wet towels on the bathroom floor and you continuously tripped over shoes he left in the weirdest of places yet you knew you wouldn’t change a thing.

Except maybe the part where Katy hadn’t talked to you since the weekend at the cabin.

But that stings too much to think about.

You can feel him watching you from his claimed spot on the couch as you frantically search the living room for your one lost earring and mumbling words he can’t make out.

"You look nice." His compliment makes you smile and you pretend it because you’ve found you’re missing jewelry rather than the swarm of butterflies his words have set off. “Girls night?"

You can hear the underlying hopefulness in his voice and suddenly your chest feels tight. You can’t look him in the eye when you answer. "Actually, I have a date."

"Oh." His face drops when the idea of you on a date with someone else catches him off guard. He struggles to pull himself back together and the smile he forces is almost painful. "Well have fun."

"I will, don't wait up." You grab the rest of your stuff as fast as you can and leave without looking back.

-

Despite you telling him not to, he stays in the living room, thoughts wondering to where you might be, who you were with, what were you doing. He falls asleep pretending to watch TV, too anxious to go to bed until you wake him up stumbling in at 1am.

"Y/N?" The first thing he notices are how your eyes are red and glazed over, not just from the alcohol he can smell on you from where he’s sat, but from the tears that are still wet on your cheeks. "Are you okay?"

"Turns out my date was a jerk." You laugh without humor, throwing yourself down next to him and kicking your shoes off so aggressively they fly across the room. Your head lolls to the side and he can tell by the way you’ve started to slur that you’re drunk. More tears fall and he starts to panic.  

"What happened? Did he hurt you?" The idea terrifies him, and he tries to keep any anger at bay while he checks you over.

You just pushe herself further into the cushions, hoping they would just make you disappear. You felt so stupid right now. "No, turns out he no interest in me at all, just thought I'd be easy to get into bed."

"I'm sorry." He pulls you into him, an arm wrapped around your shoulder. He’s desperate to do anything to comfort you and make the crying stop.

"Why does everything have to be so complicated?" You move into him, tucking yourself into his side and mumble into his shirt.

"What do you mean?" His fingers absentmindedly work their way through your hair, and he notices the way it calms your breathing.

You sigh dramatically, hiding your face. "It doesn't matter, I can't tell you."

"You can tell me anything." His honesty makes you smile.

"It's just I..." You trail off, unsure whether to go on. "I just want someone to love me, is that too much to ask for?"

"Of course not." His chest aches. You deserved the world, you always had in his eyes. And he had loved you, so much at one point. In fact, he was sure that part of him would always love you no matter where either of you ended up or who you ended up with. But he couldn’t tell you that so he sighed sadly and hoped you wouldn’t notice the subject change. "We should get you to bed."

You don’t put up a fight, just let him help you up. No one says another word until you’re laying in bed and you catch his hand when he starts to walk away.

"Stay." Your voice cracks with the word and he feels his heart break. He hates seeing you like this, hates seeing you look so vulnerable and he knows he could never leave you like it.  

So he climbs in next to you and falls asleep with you wrapped in his arms.

-

After five beers and two questionable shots, Sweet Pea eyes hazily scan the bar to find you giggling on the dancefloor with Toni. It reminds him of late-night weekends at the Wyrm, feeling rebellious sipping on alcohol underage and spending hours on the pool table until you were all kicked out.

He swears he can pinpoint the sound of your laughter over the music and he realises how beautiful you truly are. You’d changed so much over the years that it hits him how much he’d actually missed you.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” He realises Fangs had been watching him watch you, and the knowing looking he was giving him made him chuckle with nerves.

He starts fumbling with the sticker on his bottle and decides to play dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not stupid Pea, you can’t take your eyes off her.” Fangs, never being one to give up, pushes further, determine to get the answers he’s looking for. “And she keeps looking back.”

Sweet Pea just shakes his head, and takes a sip of his drink before answering. “It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it? Because seeing you two together, the four of us all being here-“ Sweet Pea knows what his best friends about to say before he says it, he feels it too. A sense of remembrance that’s been following him around for the last few weeks. “It’s like nothings ever changed.”

“Sometimes I think the same.” He admits, blowing out a breath.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Sweet Pea looks over him and realises he can’t answer, he’s starting to forget why he’s still holding back.

As if on cue, Toni makes her way towards them and pulls them both back into the crowd with her. You smile when you see him, he doesn’t know why it catches him off guard, but he can barely focus when you grab his hand and pull him closer to you.

And that’s how it starts.

Your back against his chest, swaying along with the music, his fingertips brushing up and down your sides.

Then it's his hand on your back, never moving as you weave your way to the bar, sharing a look that says a thousand things.

It's the way you fingers intertwine in the darkness of the cab, still staying locked together while you race each other to the right floor.

And then finally it's the way his lips meet yours the minute you're inside, bodies pressed up against the apartment door, pulling at each other's clothes like there's not a single minute you can waste. His mouth trails down your skin leaving purple marks behind, the more you scratch at his bare shoulders or tug on his hair the more he leaves.

This time he won't let you forget it.

This time, he hopes it won't be a mistake.

-

This time when you wake up, there’s no smell of bacon from the kitchen, and his side of the bed isn’t empty.

His arms tighten around you almost as if he can sense you’re awake and smiles automatically into your neck. “Morning.”

“Morning.” His skin is warm against yours and you can’t help but relax into him.

“So is this the part where you tell me this was all a mistake again?” You turn to see the smile on his face has turned into one of sadness and you run a hand through his messy bed hair.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Your voice is barely a whisper but you keep your eyes locked on his.

“I know. But what if there’s a way around it?” There’s a moment of silence between you as he struggles to piece his thoughts together. “What if we just both promise to leave any emotions out of it?”

He’s surprised when you practically laugh in his face and he thinks you are too. You look at him like he’s lost his mind and honestly, he isn’t afraid to admit that he does feel a little crazy right now. “Are you saying you want some kind of friends with benefits deal here?”

“Worth a try.” He shrugs in a last attempt to convince you.

“Pea I-“ You start with the intention of turning him down but one hopeful smile and you’re caving before you can even get the words out. “Screw it.”

It’s his turn to laugh as he pulls your leg up over his and kisses you in a way that steals all air from your lungs.

-

It's three weeks into your arrangement, when the doubts start.

It begins as a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach, like a distant thought in the back of your mind that you can't quite remember.

It isn't until the start of the fourth week that the doubt turns into full blown panic and you realise exactly what it is.

You barely remember the journey to the store and back, just the way your hands shook the entire time as your mind can't seem to focus.

You drink water until you're sure you might throw up and disappear into the bathroom for the most terrifying wait of your life.

You're still in a state of shock 10 minutes later, you don't even hear him come home.

"I'm sorry I didn't-" The way Sweet Pea bursts into the bathroom has you jumping out of your skin, eyes blowing wide. "Uh what's that?"

You couldn't find the words to explain, couldn't will your body to react and hide the evidence in your hands. So you just stood there, feet frozen in place, too scared to move. You assumed the look on his face mirrored your own as he stared back at you, opened mouthed, neither of you breathing in the tense seconds that followed.

"Are you..." He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence, didn't even want to think about the possibility.

"I don't know." Your voice is weak, betraying how scared you really are and Sweet Pea deflates. "It's got five minutes left."

He says nothing as he watches you slide to the floor, joining you a few seconds later. He laces his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand in what's meant to be a comforting unspoken gesture, but it only makes you want to cry. "What are we doing here Pea?"

"I don't know." He admits, his words an echo of yours a moment before. His chin balances on top of your head as it falls to his shoulder.

"What if it's positive?" You bury your face further into his neck, too afraid of the answer while trying to hide the embarrassment at your own stupidity.

"We'll figure it out." The ache in your chest eases slightly at his honesty but before you can say anything else a knock on the door has you breaking apart. "Should I get?"

"Ignore it, maybe they'll go away." But the knocking only gets more persistent and Sweet Pea’s frustration gets the better of him.

"I'll go answer, it's probably for you. I'll tell who ever it is you aren't here." He mumbles with the intention of getting rid of the visitor as quickly as possible, but his eyes meet a pair of familiar green ones the minute he opens the door and suddenly he can’t say anything at all.

"Nate." She breaths out, a smile growing on her lips. They hadn’t interacted at all since she’d thrown him out and everything hits him like a ton of bricks. "Hi."

“Katy?” You make your way out into the living room, blinking to make sure she’s really there and suddenly you can’t look in Sweet Pea’s direction.

“I’ve missed you so much.” She pushes straight past him to wrap her arms around your neck, but the hugs not nearly as comforting as you remember it to be. Sweet Pea’s gaze is hot on your skin, silently asking the question that hangs in the air between you and you shake your head briefly in a way to tell him the test had been negative. “But do you mind if I steal Nate first? We can talk later, put this all behind us?”

“Sure.” There’s an ache in your throat that makes your voice sound off but if she noticed her face doesn’t give it away when she finally pulls back. You feel like you’re a ticking time bomb of guilt, ready to explode at any second and suddenly, you can’t breathe. You had to get out. “You guys talk here, I’ll give you spare.”

You dart out of the front door before either can stop you, holding back your tears until you’re on the sidewalk.

-

When you get back they're both gone, alongside any trace of Sweet Pea ever living in your apartment in the first place. It's all replaced by a single letter that you don't have the stomach to read. A letter that you shove into a bedroom draw to become forgotten and start to go on with your life like the last 2 months hadn’t happened.

Sweet Pea Masterlist

Forever Taglist: @p-marie-sp

Cruel Summer Taglist: @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e @luvlilreinhart @intoxicatedsixx @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @shembonzi @elliebear27 @ireadthatswhyimhere @nicole13letson @swangstopazx @waitingtobeimpressed @ornate-ribcage @armadaextra @elliemaemusicals

Sweet Pea Taglist: @80sand90simagine @wildberryyyy @hopelesslylosttheway

[emeraldeyes23]

Fictober Fantober2020 -

Day 16 - Pumpkin Patch🎃

"A trip to Hokkaido?"

Ash looked at Eiji in surprise. "Why do you want to go there? And why now?"

"Because Hokkaido is famous for its beautiful landscape and its fall leaves in the most beautiful colors. There's even a National Park with a lake that changes into five different colors. I could take some great photos there for my photo projects."Eiji patiently explained to him.

"And the best time to see the beautiful leaves in fall in mid-to-late October. There's also a beautiful mountain similar to Mt. Fuji. You can see it from the lake, but only if the sky and the air are crystal clear, especially in the mornings.", Eiji added, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"That sounds beautiful.", Ash replied. "But what are you hiding from me?"

"Nothing. It's just... we have to fly there. It's 800 km away from here." When Ash's eye widened in surprise, and he looked utterly shocked, Eiji continued quickly.

"But it's still summer break, and we should enjoy it. It's the last weekend before college starts again. Besides, I promised you to show you my country."

"It's that far away? Japan always looks so small on a map. Compared to the US, I mean."

"It is, but we have many little islands. Hokkaido is the northernmost of Japan's main islands. It's also known for its volcanoes, natural hot springs and ski areas. The flight takes 3 hours to New Chitose Airport."

"Fine, let's go then.", Ash said.

"Really, you mean it?", Eiji beamed at him. "I thought it would be harder to convince you.", he admitted honestly.

"Well, you're right. It's the last weekend before our summer break is over. Besides, I can't say no to you if you're so enthusiastic and excited about something. And I'd really like to see more of Japan."

_____________________________

When they arrived in Hokkaido, the weather was great, so they enjoyed the sun and made a little walk through Akan National Park, where he took a lot of photos, and Ash admired the park's surroundings. The National Park offered leaves in all shapes and colors, which looked beautiful. Still, fall arrived here the earliest, so he was relieved that Ash had listened to him and had taken a warm coat with him. The wind was colder here, and the sun didn't spend as much warmth anymore.

The next day, Eiji dragged Ash out of bed early and had breakfast with a grumpy cat. However, it was worth it since the best view of the mountain was when the morning air was crystal clear. Later, clouds would cover most of the mountain, and it would be impossible to take some fantastic shots with his new camera.

Eiji took some photos of the mountain in perfect weather while Ash was more or less sleepwalking but slowly started looking around with interest. He stared at the Mt. Fuji look-alike and the lake in front of him.

"So, what do you think? Wasn't it a great idea to come here? I think it's the perfect end of our summer break." Eiji pinched his cheek when he didn't answer.

"Ouch! What was that for?", Ash complained, rubbing his cheek.

"To check if you're still alive and capable of understanding human speech.", Eiji grinned in amusement at him. "Wake up, ok? The area is too beautiful to miss it. Let's walk around for a bit.", he suggested while Ash rubbed his eyes. Eiji put an arm around his waist, and they walked along the lake and enjoyed the sun.

"Wow, it's true that the lake has different colors. It depends on the time of day and from which angle the sun reflects the water. It's so beautiful." Ash smiled at him.

"I hope my mood wasn't that bad.", he apologized to him. "You know I'm not an early riser."

"Yes, I know that, but don't worry. I'll get my revenge soon.", Eiji smirked at him devilishly before he took some more photos of the lake. Ash looked questioningly at him but didn't ask him what he had meant by that.

"Let's take a photo of us together, ok? A great photo of our trip together that we can hang in our apartment. I'd like to create countless precious memories together with you."

After a while, they left the National Park and took the train to a town near Sapporo. Eiji had read about a fall festival that was celebrated there. With regional and seasonal food, arts and crafts, music and much more. They walked through the town, and Ash saw that many stalls and products had pumpkins on them. "Eiji, what's with all the pumpkins here?", he asked anxiously, walking faster and gripping his hand more tightly. Eiji wondered if that had been such a good idea to bring Ash here. But the pumpkin patches here were an incredible sight, and he wanted to take some photos. At the same time, he wondered if Ash's fear of pumpkins was just superficial and based on a bad memory or if he would panic when spotting them. He didn't know how he'd react because the pumpkins in Hokkaido looked different from those in the US. They were much smaller, so he thought Ash would be ok. He had always wanted to come here, to Hokkaido, but he also knew that Hokkaido was famous for its pumpkins. Everyone knew that in Japan. However, he had failed to mention that little detail to Ash... "Hokkaido is also famous for its pumpkins.", Eiji explained, feeling guilty at once. "I'm sorry that I haven't told you. I thought you'd say no to this trip if you knew.", Eiji explained it to him honestly. Ash let go of his hand and turned around to him, fists clenched and eyes burning dangerously before he gave up controlling his temper. "I knew it! That there was something you were hiding!", Ash burst out furiously. "And of course I would have said no; those damn things sent shivers down my spine. I want them as far away from me as possi - " Ash abruptly stopped mid-sentence and stood there, frozen up, staring at the field ahead of them that had just come into view. While walking on through the little town, they had reached the outskirts where many different things were cultivated and harvested. In front of them lay a vast pumpkin patch. Ok, to be honest, pumpkin patch was a massive understatement. Nearly all the fields in front of them were covered in pumpkins. It looked more like a sea of pumpkins. The pumpkin patches were endlessly and reached as far as the eye could see. Eiji had noticed that Ash had frozen up entirely and stared at the sight in front of him in disbelief, his eyes wide open in shock. Eiji watched him carefully. He wasn't any less surprised. He had assumed that they had some smaller pumpkin patches here, but he hadn't expected they would stretch that far. He would have warned Ash or wouldn't have brought him here if he had known. He felt like the worst person on the planet right now. What had he done? "Please tell me I imagine that, Eiji. That's a p-p-pumpkin patch. And not one, but the whole area is full of pumpkins. They're everywhere.", Ash exclaimed, clenching his hands into fists so hard they were shaking. "No, you don't imagine it. I thought it would help you overcome your fear of them if I brought you here. But I didn't know there would be so many. I'm so sorry, Ash." "I don't want to overcome my damn fear!", Ash scowled at him angrily. Ash stubbornly turned around and went back the way he had come. Eiji ran after him and took his hand. That's when he noticed that his hand was sweaty and that Ash looked even paler than usual. He was shivering and looked uncomfortable as his eyes darted nervously around for a way to escape. His whole posture screamed that he wanted to get out of here. Eiji hugged him tightly. "It's fine, Ash. Please calm down. Do you want to leave?" Ash nodded at him quietly while a single tear ran down his face. Eiji gently stroked the back of his head. "I'm sorry, Ash. I didn't know there would be so many here. I assumed it would be a small pumpkin patch.", he apologized honestly to him. " "I didn't know that you were that afraid of pumpkins. To me, you're the strongest and bravest person I know. So I didn't take your fear of pumpkins seriously. He pulled out of the hug and instead grabbed his hand again. "Let's go somewhere else, ok?”