#when i wrote it it really scratched an itch in my brain? it's probably stupid

[ghost-proofbaby]

too sweet (astarion ancunin x reader)

"you know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain. pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. [...] you're too sweet for me."

summary: astarion realizes you're too sweet for him, and he probably shouldn't let this go further than necessary. but, oh, he's going to. isn't he? (based on this request and the song 'too sweet' by hozier <3)

pairing: astarion ancunin x gn!reader

warnings: spoilers for games regarding camp dialogue with astarion, discussion of astarion's past trauma, talks of self-loathing/disgust with sex, vague mentions & allusions to sex having been had, manipulation at it's finest! minors dni.

wc: 2k+

a/n: i just wanted to get inside this man's mind when he drops that fucking line the second time he tries to sleep with us/tav. why does his face fall like that? why?

divider by @firefly-graphics <3

As Astarion observes the rise and fall of your chest in the soft morning light, he can only think one thing: shit. He fucked up. 

And he had spent most of the early hours trying to retrace his steps, trying to decipher exactly where his monumental mistake had begun, but it seemed useless. 

It could have been somewhere between the first and third bottle of wine shared with you last night during festivities, where he’d sweet-talked you to the high Hells until you’d agreed to return to his bedroll in the dead of night. Where he’d made the joke that wasn’t all that funny – the joke that he loved you. Three pretty words tried out on his tongue, and they hadn’t been nearly as light-hearted as he’d wanted them to be. More of an experiment, a quick sip to see if he liked the taste. And he had fucked up, because he did like the taste. He liked the sweetness that stuck to every corner of his mouth as he delivered the sugar-coated lie to you, his entire face falling as a new weight appeared in his chest. 

But perhaps it had been the first night he tasted you – well, your blood, that is. The night he’d awoken from a nightmare of Cazador and in his vulnerability, had chosen you as his victim of yet another experiment. A test to see if he was truly free. One drop of a thinking creature’s blood, that was all he needed. But you’d given more than he’d bargained for, and your cloy ichor had coated his taste buds so addictively, and he had just known that night was only the beginning. It was the first time, but certainly not the last. 

He thinks he could drink in whatever you offered him, and only that, for the rest of his days while still finding some sickly, twisted version of reprieve regardless. Not a drop more than he needed, always vying for more. 

He’d be okay with that type of hunger, that type of yearning, and that might have been his first real mistake. 

Or maybe, just possibly, it had been that very first meeting. Maybe he had doomed himself from the moment he’d pressed a blade to your neck, when he had dragged you to the ground with him and felt all that warmth, all that fear, radiating off of you. So frightful, and you still had offered your help to him when it was all said and done. Perhaps that was when he had well and truly screwed himself over. One simple introduction, void of his usual wine and flowers, and he’d locked himself in for pure trouble. 

Not even the fun kind, at that. What a shame. 

At the end of the day, or rather the beginning of the day as it is now, it doesn’t matter where his threads had started to unravel. All that matters is that they were – every carefully thought out line of his plans had all frayed, all detangled from the bigger picture, all because of you. 

Heart of gold, blood of honey. You were far too sweet for him, and he knew it. 

“Having fun, are you?” 

“I am, it’s hard not to with you.”

You’d taken each of his tactics in stride, hadn’t you? Whereas his face had nearly crumbled beneath the weight of that beautiful lie, insides twisting uncomfortable as the humor had slipped through his fingers, your eyes had only glittered as you bit back a smirk. To so lightly tease him, to banter right back with him, instead of see the truth behind it all. He didn’t know if you were simply that naive or if you were another kindred soul – Perhaps you were finding just as much safety, just as much sanctuary, in whatever dance he’d dragged you into. An entanglement of lies, a blithe facade, a daring smile that whispers come now, play with me. 

And play with him, you had. 

You’d played with him, you’d drank with him, and you’d now slept with him. Twice. 

“You’re up early,” your voice murmurs, silken tone cutting through all his racing thoughts. 

He hadn’t even noticed you had stirred, rousing yourself out from underneath his stolen blankets to peer at him curiously as he perched on the edge of the bedroll. As far from you, and as far from your sweetness, as possible. 

“Oh, you know what they say, my dear,” he chirps, rolling his shoulders as the act wraps him back up. The charismatic charmer. The illusive rogue, trained impeccably to coax you in and secure his safety, “No rest for the wicked.” 

He’d awoken before you last time, too. Had watched the sun rise and enjoyed the warmth of it plastering across his skin long before you’d ever woken up. He half-hopes you’ll be less talkative this time; he half-hopes you’ll try to rope him into whatever discussion you can, if only for a few extra seconds of your attention. 

You were too sweet. Too sugary on his tongue, too soothing in his chest. He shouldn’t entertain you – he shouldn’t let this go further than necessary. 

You hum thoughtfully, the blanket slipping and exposing more of your chest. With the light flickering in from his tent’s entrance, he can easily spot those two scarring dots along your jugular where his fangs fit perfectly, “I don’t know if I’d describe you as wicked, lover.” 

“No?” Roped into discussion, it is. “How would you describe me then?” 

He’s not comfortable in this lighting. He feels feverish beneath your steady stare, the way your eyes take their time as you look over every inch of him. The languid observation has him convinced you’re seeing right through him – your glance can pierce right through all his armor and expose every flaw. You see him for the monster he is, you see him for the bitter soul he’s become, you see him as the unworthy spawn he believes himself to be. 

He almost swears that you even see right through his nice, simple plan at hand, not so easily fooled as he had believed you to be. 

“Charming, certainly,” you suddenly sigh, sitting up and keeping your body mostly covered still with that knitted blanket. He’d only snagged it because the shade of the wool nearly matched your eyes – not that he was paying attention to your eyes, of course, “But then again, you’d have to be to have bedded me twice now, wouldn’t you?” 

“We can always make it thrice,” he banters back, ignoring the bile that builds at the insinuation. But if that’s what it takes – laying on his back over and over again – to guarantee your protection, he’ll do it. He’d do it a thousand times over to keep himself as far away from Cazador’s chokehold as possible, “Does that entice you, love?”

When he turns his body fully, beginning a carefully and calculated crawl up the bed roll, ready to slot his body back between your thighs and encourage you to have his way with him, you stop him. The heel of your foot delicately presses against his chest, your head tilted curiously before you shake it. 

“Who’s the eager pup now, Astarion?” 

He likes the way his name drips off your tongue. Almost as if he might be made of the same sugar and spice as you, the same pure honey flowing through your veins also inhabiting his. You say it like a song, articulate it like the sweetest fruit. 

He shouldn’t like it. It shouldn’t be able to overpower his lingering disgust with himself so easily. 

“It’s hard not to be eager when it comes to you,” he says the line with good practice, beckoning a purr to his tone that had always won over the victims he’d entrap in dark taverns back in the city, “I said the Gods had made you just to ruin me, and I meant it.”

He’d meant it more than he’d realized. It wasn’t just your body that had been sculpted to draw him in – it was everything. Your entire aura, your entire glacé demeanor. All that innocence and all that geniality enticed him more than he could ever admit. You were certainly going to ruin him, so wholly and so entirely. You’d already started to, really. 

You don’t respond at first, and he swears he has you. You’re locked in on his distraction, caught up in his web, just as he needs you to be. One lithe hand lifts to your ankle, cool fingers wrapping around your warm skin as he begins to lower his lips, ready to pepper kisses up your leg. Prepared to offer you his mouth, his body, in return for the one thing he needs. Self-loathing be damned. 

Old habits die hard, right along with pride, and he’s not quite ready to bury either at your grave yet. 

But just as he presses the first chaste kiss to your skin, nearly taken back by how your sweetness still breaks through the salty surface, you’re pulling the limb away from him. Your knee draws back and a disarming smile has risen on your cheeks, eyes glittering at him just as they had the night before. 

“I suppose I’ll have to come find you when everyone is asleep, then.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

What exactly had he been waiting for? You, of course. But had he been waiting for you to find him solely for what had transpired? To explore your portfolios of talents once more, as he had put it? Or had it been for something more… precarious? 

Was he nothing more than a prey, waiting for you to be his demise? 

Had he actually been waiting for this? 

The challenging look in your eyes as they reflected back stars, the warmth of your skin so close to him he nearly melts into you. The upturn of the corners of your mouth, outlining the way you certainly know something that he doesn’t. A look you wear well, a look that shakes his foundations and rattles his bones. 

“As tempting as you are, I’ll have to decline. Duty calls, as they say.” 

Can you see right through him? 

He should be more deflated when you start going through the motions; he should be pouting or overthinking it all as he watches you gather your clothes once more, covering up the few bite marks of his that litter your skin. Every moment you prepare to leave his tent should be one spent overthinking where he’d gone wrong – why didn’t you want him? Was his plan even going to work? 

Were you truly too sweet for him? Would he have been better off trying to romance the likes of Gale for the safety just shy of his grasp now?

He doesn’t, though. For once, his mind is quiet as he watches you patter about. The bile retreats, the disgust fades. For the first time in a very long time, Astarion is leaving this interaction not feeling used. 

Maybe it’s in the way you cheekily snatch one of his shirts as you both pretend he doesn’t notice it, or maybe it’s in the gentle caress of your fingers through his hair as you pass him to pick back up your discarded weapon. Maybe it’s in every shy glance you offer him, or maybe it’s in your ever present grin. 

Watching you leave should worry him, but it only feels like a breath of fresh air. A wind that comes sweeping in with the promise of next time just as you pull back the flap to his tent. 

And he hadn’t realized he’d been waiting patiently for you to turn back to him until you do just this, offering him one final glance that sets him aflame, “Oh, and before I forget – you can feed on me tonight, if you need to.” 

Heart of gold, blood of honey. He couldn’t say no even if he wanted to.

“Then I’ll see your delicious self tonight,” he takes a pause, one big and unnecessary breath filling his chest alongside that warmth you bring to him. The fearless leader, the kindest soul. His most apt nickname for you yet falls off his lips in a content sigh, “My sweet.”

He shouldn’t entertain you – he shouldn’t let this go further than necessary. 

But he’s going to. Gods, he is going to. 

After all, the sweetest fruits always fall from the most forbidden branches, do they not?

[bitchkay]

I wrote this last night/this morning and edited it when I woke up cus it was like gibberish cus I was half asleep

its 3:54 am but I just thought of court of darkness headcanons and my brain won't let me think of anything else😁😁

I keep having thoughts of like modern au court of darkness for some reason but like I am not complaining what so ever so-

bartender Fenn.

I mean it's literally canon-

don't tell me it's not perfect for him

Fenn has megan knees.

you heard me

I feel like Rio would work at Burger King- but like he'd love it there

I mean employee discount purr

But like fr he'd love interacting with customers at the counter, Rio's a good cook he'd be good in the kitchen, everyone just loves him cus he's just a bundle of joy

If Rio's not working, the place is dead

Old ladies love him, young women ask for his number, and he gives it to them cus he doesn't know they wanna fuck him-

Fenn would love tinder LMFAOOO

I can see Roy being a model OUUUU😋😋

y'all can't deny bro's beautiful

bro's gorgeous

I feel like he has the charisma, definitely photogenic, has a good sense of style, a pretty face

Roy simply deserves to be on the cover of a magazine.

Dia sells weed, Lynt smokes weed, I don't know why but that makes sense in my head

weed dealer Dia and pot head Lynt scratches some kind of fucked up itch in my brain and I love it

Lance also smokes but I'm pretty sure that's also canon

Dia hates mushrooms on pizza.

Toa loves pixie stix.

Rio reminds me of Ryuzo somewhat, from dreamy days in west Tokyo, but only in terms of naivety (however Ryu is simply charmingly stupid), so for obvious reasons I can also see Rio working in a vegetable market

Guy bullies people on Tiktok.

I really can't see Lynt really having a job but yk bills need to be paid, so he probably has some on campus job at his college, not only for convenience but so he doesn't have to go two places in one day lol

Guy sleeps full nude in the summer but with socks on.

Knight and Thoma play video games together but they're way to fucking competitive, if something in the room doesn't break did they really play video games

Fenn drunkenly hooked up with his college professor but didn't know it was his college professor until he went to school the next day and was like "... wait a damn minute--"

Guy has THE BIGGEST ass, bbl who?? it's all natural baby😋😋

Rio goes to the gym.

that's it.

the thought of Rio working out makes me drool

meow😳✨✨

why ain't this man in my draws yet-

I don't like caramel but Toa loves caramel, for that reason I say there is a video of us throwing hands on world star. Guy recorded cus I was winning.

Rio would love Waffle House.

Knight would literally LIVE in cat cafes HOLY SHIT-

If you went to a cat cafe you'll see Knight so often you'd think he worked there💀💀

Nah he just wont leave

"Sir, please go home.. we have to close" "5 more minutes... "

I wanna have a smoke sesh with Lance, I wanna get high with him and just chill, probably fuck, then order a pizza and watch old reruns on the TV.. yes

Lynt would also be nice to smoke with, we'd just vibe together, talk about random bullshit, pass the blunt back and forth while cuddling on my couch, also probably fuck, then sleep off the high

yea.

I mean its pretty canon Sherry can't fucking cook, so the existence of instant is her saving grace

Roy tried to teach her to make rice but it just wasn't working out so he ended up buying her a rice cooker

Roy spoils Sherry rotten with the kitchen appliances, but will not stop because the smile on her face when he got her a hot pink Keurig machine is the most priceless reward

Sherry got into modeling because of Roy, because shes short she started with clothing ads but sooner or later she was sharing magazines with her brother, literal sibling goals😤😤

OMG I JUST GOT INSPIRATION, IMMA DRAW THE PRINCES ON MAGAZINE COVERS IM GONNA CRY HOLD UP-

STOP IM GETTING MY DRAWING TABLET-

The way I actually wanna make the magazine covers happen but my tablet is a task and a half to draw on being as it's old and the home button's fucked up, my laptop is also fucked up, I swear it's on its last legs 90% of the time, my laptops a literal dinosaur, and my phone has no storage so I can't even draw on here, which leaves paper but I hate drawing in my sketch book--

I GATHERED REFERENCES AND EVERYTHING-

I'm gonna cry.

[from-a-reckless-writer]

wrote a thing.

She is sitting behind you; back propped up against the harsh cement wall the double-deck is pushed against. She isn’t wearing her shirt, merely draped it over her frame. She is like this with you. Always partially naked, almost always bare but never completely. A sleeping short but no bra, there; grinding on your thigh with only a tank top and no underwear, here; and now, chest bare with only a shirt draped over.

You hear rustling and you know she is reaching for the pack of cigarettes and lighter on the head of the bed.

You are proven right.

You hear the flicker of the flames and the string of cigarette smoke climbs into your nostrils. You lace your shoes first before even wearing a bra. The first time you did this in front of her she laughed at you.

Shoes first before a bra? If you hadn’t just fucked my brains out I’d have half a mind to call you a psychopath.

She always smokes the same brand of cigarette. The ones whose sticks are black, as if a premonition of the blackening of her lungs if she keeps at it. It is always the one with the menthol aftertaste.

“Do you always have to have cigarettes after sex?”

“They're called stimulants for good reason you know? And besides…”

She trails off and it irritates you, because her trailing off means that she knows you’re thinking the same thing; implies that with you, she doesn’t feel the need to finish her words out loud because she is all too aware that you have already finished the sentence in your head.

It is most irksome.

“Besides what?” You spit out, even though you already know the answer; even though you know that she knows you know.

“Besides,” she drawls, and even with your back to her, you know there is a puff of smoke around that one word.

“You like the taste.”

You feel liquid fire running in your veins. Of course, that’s what she would say. That’s what you were thinking of, wasn’t it?

“They’re bad for you.”

You hook the clasps of your bra together.

“Mm. Like how I’m bad for you?”

“Fuck you.”

“You just did, baby.”

******

There is no love there, you think as you wait for a cab below her apartment.

Above, you know she is listening to the trashy music you know she doesn’t really like but always listens to. You hate that you don’t know the reason why she does this. You hate that she always seems to know more about you, than you about her.

You imagine what she does when she’s alone in her apartment.

In that cramped space of a studio apartment, where the kitchen faces the door of the bathroom and the bedroom is three steps away from said kitchen. The one place you’re sure would always be burned to the back of your lids till the day you die.

It’s yellow walls eternally living in the gray matter of your brain. It has embedded itself there, along with the image of her spread open for you each time and every time.

You raise your hand to hail a cab. A car stops in front of you, you look up one last time.

There’s the silhouette of a woman behind the curtains.

You leave.

******

The city rolls past your windows. Manila in the middle of the night feels like a neon lucid dream. Well, it is, if you look past the homeless children in the streets and the rows of carton boxes inhabited by cold bodies on the sidewalk.

You think about her and how cold the metal frame of a double-deck feels at night. You never ask about the person who used to occupy the top part of the deck. You don’t ask about how there is a whole drawer of clothes that she doesn’t touch.

You don’t ask and she doesn’t answer.

It’s always been like that between you, hasn’t it? An eye for an eye. A tit for tat. What you give is what you get.

The entire taxi smells like orange Lysol and you suppress a gag reflex. It gives you a headache. But the pain of it is nothing compared to the chasm inside your chest.

It’s been getting bigger and bigger, wider and wider, you notice. The gap always increases whenever you decide to lace your shoes and hail a cab.

You ignore it.

******

She doesn’t call you, the next Friday.

It’s not the first time she failed to call. Often, it’s a work thing or a university thing...or both.

She’ll call the next evening; always eager to fuck off the stress the prior day has inevitably brought.

She wouldn’t even bother with foreplay on days like those. It’s fine by you. You’re more than happy to get down and get to work.

You’ve always been an efficient employee after all.

Because that’s it, isn’t it? This is just a contract between the two of you. If you need an itch scratched, you'll dial the familiar number and she'll show up on your doorstep and the next minute her hands would be down your pants and vice versa.

It works. It’s fine.

But then, she doesn’t call.

Not during that Friday night and not during the next evening and before you know it, a whole weekend passes by.

You find your hand on her doorknob on Monday morning.

******

She slams the door in your face the moment she realizes you’re behind it.

You pound your fist on the locked door three times, twist the knob roughly for good measure.

“Tangina, just let me in.”

You hate how fucking needy you sound.

******

You wake up falling backwards, the back of your head hitting the bone of her legs painfully.

“Aw. Pucha, what the-”

You look up and there she is, looking down on you and then she is muttering under her breath.

“Idiot. Who fucking waits outside somebody’s door?”

You scramble to your feet.

You embrace her. Tightly. It surprises you both. You hear the breath get whooshed out of her lungs.

You feel her stop fighting against the hug. She turns soft. She sobs.

You let your shirt get soaked.

******

You don’t fuck that night.

You hold her instead.

******

You feel nauseous on the ride home again but this time you know it isn’t because of some cheap air freshener.

There is something different churning in your gut. It makes you want to throw up. It’s got to do with the ever widening chasm in your chest and the woman in the studio flat, you think.

No, you don’t think. You know.

You elect to ignore it again.

******

There is a man with his arm around you when you run into each other in the LRT. In the distance you can hear the whistle of a security guard. You can feel the rumble of the oncoming train underneath your feet. Somebody says, Please observe the following for your safety and protection while inside the station...Thank you for patronizing the LRT.

You watch in real time how a nebula dies.

The light bursting, exploding and then blinking out of existence all in the same breath.

“Nice to meet you.”

She extends a hand to the man beside you.

You try not to think about the fact that that same hand had trailed up and down your body not only two nights ago, how those fingers had mapped out every single scar down the back of your thighs, how that hand had cradled your face so softly before even softer lips descended on your own.

“Well, I should probably get going. I’ll let you go now.”

The five words grate against your veins like broken glass atop cement walls grazing trespassing robbers.

You try to crane your neck to follow her disappearing figure.

His arm gets in the way.

******

She doesn’t answer your Friday night call.

And the Saturday morning call.

And the Saturday afternoon call and the evening call.

And the Sunday morning call and the afternoon call and the evening call.

Once again, you find your back against her door on a Monday.

******

She finds you there; sitting stupidly, head thumping repeatedly against the wood.

You scramble to stand up so quickly you almost trip over your own feet.

“Hi.“

—is the most stupid thing to say in the history of stupid things to say.

“You didn’t answer my calls,” you’re quick to add.

“No answer is an answer.”

She jams her keys into the door.

“Yeah, I figured.”

You twiddle your thumbs, eyes cast to the floor.

She opens the door. You follow, naturally.

She takes off her shirt.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Well, isn’t this what you came for? Let’s get it done and over with. The sooner the better, I have an essay deadline tonight.”

“No, I-”

“You what?”

You stare stupidly, mouth closing and opening like a fish, with no words coming out.

“Ano?” She demands, “Wala? Well, if you’re not gonna fuck me I suggest you get out and stop wasting my time. Like I said, I have a deadline tonight.”

You can take the dismissal for what it is.

Or...

You can fight back.

You can call her out on her bullshit.

You can apologize for your stupidity.

You can-

You rush towards her and smash your mouths together harshly.

You make her cum three times that night, her letting out your name in breathy whimpers.

It doesn’t feel satisfying. It just leaves you feeling empty.

She doesn’t smoke after, this time. She just gets out of your arms, pulls out a chair, a charger and her laptop.

She gets to work.

You dress yourself. Shoes first, then bra.

“I’m sorry.”

******

You stop hearing from her.

You know better than to call her non-stop.

No answer is an answer.

******

The apartment is empty when you get there.

The landlord says it’s been empty for two weeks now.

She didn’t leave her future destination nor her new address nor her new number.

She didn’t leave anything behind.

Well, except maybe for…you.

[izzy-b-hands]

Hard Waves At Dawn

A random snapshot with the reader from You Send Me and Freddie. Blame me listening to the album Goths by The Mountain Goats for the first time tonight for this one. I try and save certain albums until the right moment, and it seems this was the right one for it. Listen to it, in order, to get the vibe of this fic. Title comes from the song on there titled ‘Wear Black.’

Ngl, very deep in my own mind and thoughts of the future as I wrote this. It probably shows, but that’s par the course for my writing now I fear lol. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“I won’t make you come home.” 

The rain poured, and you jumped at the loudness of the thunder. “You shouldn’t have to.” 

Freddie shrugged, and scooted closer to you on the stone bench. The park was empty except for the two of you; everyone else had run home as soon as the rain had started to come down fast enough to hurt. 

“That’s it?” 

He nodded. “I know that, and you know it. What more is there to say about it?” 

“Maybe not more to say about that,” you replied. “But what about everything else?” 

You let his arm slip around you and pull you close. “I think you need to talk about that. Or you wouldn’t have gone running out here before I was even awake.” 

You had left the flat you shared with Freddie at five in the morning, in a daze. You weren’t sure exactly what had set it off this time, and it was an impulse you usually ignored or were able to repress. The one that made you panic for the future, left you pacing the flat over things that were arguably not worth worrying about as much as you did, made you feel like taking night walks that never ended, not caring where you might end up or if you’d make your way back home again.

You were in clothes that normally never left the house, clothes that were Lounge About the House and Do Nothing category. You didn’t look wildly out of place to anyone else, but you knew it was a sign to Freddie.

He didn’t indulge these moments, exactly. He accepted them, and rode them out with you, and occasionally gave advice or distractions if you requested or seemed to need it. But most of the time, it was this. Finally prompting that vat of nonsense and fear and pain and sadness that had settled into some sort of aching black hole in  your chest before you could recall knowing what depression even was, to spill.

“It’s stupid,” you muttered, and he chuckled. 

“Good start.” 

“It is though,” you protested. “This is what I’ve wanted. Stability. I’ve worked towards it since I was like...fourteen. And never had it, never had it, couldn’t reach it, wasn’t qualified for it, couldn’t afford it, all that. And now here it is, and it’s fine, and my dumb fucking head is still like this.” 

He didn’t speak, but took your hand in his, rubbing gently at it with his thumb. 

“What am I waiting for? Why do I feel like the other shoe is going to drop? The shoes are on and tied and I’m waiting to trip. And for what? Why? Why can’t I just be happy all the time? It isn’t always like this, it recedes like the tide but when it comes back I-” 

The rain washes the tears off your face as fast as they can fall. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Freddie asked. “I think a lot of us are doing that, in one way or another.” 

“But it’s like I’m doubting this good thing I have, from you to my job to everything-” 

“Not on purpose,” he interrupted. “The mind clicks along, and doubt is a track it falls on from time to time. I know you don’t seriously doubt us, or your job with the band. Do you know how I know that?” 

You shook your head.

“Because you don’t leap for things that feel like too big of a risk unless you see enough security available in the thing you’re leaping towards. You would never have so much as kept looking my way, or stayed on with us, if you didn’t feel secure despite any little doubts or fears that any rational person might have from time to time.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but he shushed you softly. 

“Y/N. You turned down an ice cream yesterday because you were afraid it might have something you were allergic to in it. We had a full list of ingredients, but because the shop couldn’t verify how current it was, you left without anything. If you can turn away from something that simple, don’t you think you would have been long gone by now, if you had true doubts about anything else in your life right now?” 

“...you make a good point,” you acknowledged. 

“Every now and again,” he smiled, the small shy smile that came around only when he was being vulnerable. He looked even more gorgeous than usual when he wore it. “And you know what?” 

“You have doubts too?” 

“All the fucking time,” he sighed. “The work on the next album alone! You’ve heard me, hell you’ve worked me through some of those fits-” 

“Not fits, exactly,” you interrupted.

“Tantrums?” he asked with a grin.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you said with a smile. “Or I’ll have to kiss you and replace them with something else.” 

He kissed you anyway, and the scent of his usual cologne mixed with the rain smelled like the home you had always wanted, dreamed of, yearned for, worked so damn hard to get that you couldn’t believe you’d let your mind trap you into any worries about it. 

You leaned into his embrace, wincing only a little as the rain somehow fell harder. “I’m sorry I left without leaving a note or anything. I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

“Out of everyone,” Freddie said. “You are one of the few people I don’t worry about leaving me out of the blue. And I could tell last night you were feeling a bit...how to put it? Twitchy isn’t the right word-” 

“Like there was an itch in my brain I couldn’t scratch,” you filled in. 

“Exactly,” Freddie said, pushing his wet hair away from where it just barely touched his forehead. “Were we due for a storm?” 

“Maybe,” you replied. “I certainly was, apparently.” 

“It had been a couple of months,” Freddie nodded. 

“God, you’ve got my depression cycle mapped. We’re domestic,” you laughed. “I love it, though I don’t love that I have something like that you have to keep track of.” 

“Don’t have to keep track of it,” he said. “I do it because I want to make sure you’ve got support whenever it hits. How long did you deal with it alone, or with minimal support? You’ve got me, and the boys, and so many others now. It would be more than a shame, it would be a crime, to care about you and not be mindful of this.” 

He held a hand up before you could speak. “And before you go on with that ‘but I can’t expect others to take care of me all the time’ talk, I know. That’s not our goal, and I think you know that. But I also think you’re afraid of it sometimes, because you’ve not had anything like it before. Support, not to hold you up 24/7, but to help carry you when you need it, and you do the same in return. Equal give and take.” 

You nodded. “You are an exceptionally wise man, you know that?” 

He shrugged. “I don’t know about that. I try, same as anyone else.” 

“You underestimate yourself with things like this,” you said. “You don’t do it with anything else. The rest of the persona the confidence flows, but you sell yourself short here. You shouldn’t.” 

“You do the same thing,” he said with a smirk. “Can’t argue that anymore than I can, can you?” 

“No wonder we get on so well,” you said. “Perfectly capable until we’re vulnerable in the rain, and then it all melts away.” 

He nods. “It’s nice though, isn’t it? To have someone to let the mask down around so severely. No need to hang onto it, in case someone walks in the room that would make you bring it back up.” 

“It really is,” you sighed. “I think it’s hailing a bit.” 

He brushed a hand through his dampened curls, and melting pea-sized pebbles of ice shook out. “It is definitely hailing.” 

“We should almost definitely go home,” you murmured. “I haven’t seen any lightening, but probably not safe all the same.” 

“You can’t tell me that you’ve never wanted to be out in a storm like this, in one of these moments of yours,” Freddie said. “Why not give it five more minutes?” 

“And if lightening shows up, and hits us?” 

“Then I hope they leave the burned outline of our corpses here on this bench as a memorial,” Freddie said with a cheeky grin. 

“Me too,” you said. “I wouldn’t mind a death and a memorial like that.” 

“Better than some, and certainly as good as some others,” Freddie nodded. “You know you’re going to be fighting a cold off after this, right?” 

“Yeah,” you said softly. “You’ve already bought me cans of my favorite soup, haven’t you?” 

“Two days ago, had Brian pick them up and bring them by,” Freddie replied. “He asked how I could possibly know.” 

“And you told him not to worry about it, and that he’d get it some day?” 

“Bless, you’ve got my most cryptic answers down to a T,” he said. “That was exactly it. Bet you can’t guess the rest of my master plan though.” 

“To make me soup for the next three days, and keep me sat resting on the couch, except for when we’re napping together in the bed?” 

“Almost all of it,” he said. “You missed the bit where I make sure we get a walk outside in. The sun will help, and I know you won’t go out without me.” 

“Thank you,” you said, jumping at an even louder clap of thunder. “There has got to be lightening nearby.” 

“Maybe,” he agreed. “And for what? The soup? That was nothing, really.” 

“All of this,” you said, pressing your face into the wet material of his jacket near his neck. “Taking care of me. Being with me. Loving me despite this stupid shit my brain does, that I can’t always rein in as well as I’d like.” 

“It’s good work,” he said. “Work I like. Because you do the same work for me. It’s steady, and it all evens out, even when everything else is...decidedly less so.” 

 “The ebb and flow of the tide, and the two of us as the typhoon,” you murmured. 

“You should do something with that,” he said. “I like it.” 

“You know I don’t write like that anymore.” 

“But you could. Write it down when we get home, just in case. You never know what you’ll find to do on the side in between tours, after all,” he said, and stood slowly, only to duck down as larger hail started to drop hard and fast, as if someone in the sky had overturned a huge bucket of it. “Shall we go now, before you forget it?” 

“I think better we leave so we don’t end up with bruises,” you laughed, taking his hand as you stood. “I’m ready to go home.” 

[carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich]

These Fanfics of Shin and Carla of nice and all...but we want the story on how Carla Tsukinami stoke your ham sandwich! The greedy bast*rd he is...

Anon, this is one of my favourite asks ever and I love you. Thank you so much for giving me an opportunity to shamelessly insert myself into the world of DL I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it :)

I wrote myself as a nameless herione (because I don’t think most of you know my name) which also means you can treat it as a reader insert if you want to, but bare in mind this is based on how I would react in this situation and there are some details that are a bit specific to me.

“Hm, I wonder if I’m allowed up here?” The girl glanced back at the door to the rooftop of Ryoutei Academy, trying to spot any sort of kanji that could translate to “Keep Out” but found none. Shrugging to herself she concluded that if anyone caught her up here when she wasn’t supposed to be, then she would have to play the confused foreign student card and hope for the best.

A mild scolding seemed better than going back to the cafeteria anyway.

She looked down at the slightly sorry looking lunchbox in her hands and loosed a sigh. It was only her second day at her new school and already she felt herself desperately missing her friends and the familiarity of her old school. 

The other students had all been pleasant enough- aside from the boy with glasses in her class, who she’d caught eyeing the hemline of her skirt with obvious disapproval, as though it was somehow her fault that whoever made the school uniform had not done so with five foot nine female transfer students in mind- but the thought of trying to navigate getting food when almost all of the signs were in kanji she didn’t recognize made her gut roll with anxiety.

Besides at least the rooftop was pretty, with troughs of well kept roses lining the space and a perfect view of Kaminashi town, just beyond the iron railing, the lights from the small shopping district a warm glow against the midnight blue sky.

The girl walked over to the edge of the rooftop, intent on giving herself a moment to admire the townscape when a nearby rose caught her eye. It’s petals were such a dark red, they looked almost black in the modest illumination provided by the few lights lining the roof. She crouched down on the balls of her feet and set her lunchbox carefully to the side. Something about the scene, the dark flower with the night sky behind it, made her fingers itch with the urge to sketch it. 

“I don’t think I could do the dark colors justice with my watercolors and I can’t do realism with markers so maybe colored pencils would be best?” She muttered to herself she tried to find the perfect angle for some reference photos she could use later, while reaching into her pocket for her phone. “Acrylics could work I guess but I don’t have any canvas here and I-”

“What are you doing?” A low voice came from right beside her ear. The girl let out a high-pitched shriek and jolted in surprise, barely catching her balance in time.

She loosed a breath before turning her head in the direction of whoever had spoken, but before she could, they spoke again.

“Hahh, that’s no good… Hmph!” A rough shove sent her sprawling into the roses. Thorns scratched at her skin and she cursed as her hands plunged in the damp mulch, just barely stopping her from face-planting into the dirt. The rest of her however, was not so lucky, and she knew from the way her torso had landed in the soil that her skirt’s hemline had just become the least of her worries as far as her uniform was concerned.

A cruel laugh came from behind her and she turned to look up, filled with some mixture of anger and embarrassment. 

But whatever had been brewing petered out the moment she laid eyes on the culprit. He was quite possibly the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen; short choppy, strawberry blonde hair framed pale face with an eye the most incredible shade of gold. 

He was utterly stunning.

The effect was promptly ruined however, when he opened his mouth, face twisting into a sneer.

“Haha, how pathetic, crawling around in the dirt.” He continued to chuckle as she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, wincing slightly at the way they stung where they’d scraped against the ground. 

“Heehhh, aren’t you going to say something?” The boy asked, the humor in his expression dying down as he regarded her as one might a spot of mould on a piece of bread. “Or is it that you’re so stupid, you can’t understand what I’m saying?”

The girl froze slightly, unsure how to navigate whatever was going on. Was this guy a bully? Her strategy for dealing with bullies until now had generally been to avoid them or ignore them, neither of which seemed like a good idea here.

“Oiii Miss idiot, are you going to keep ignoring me until I do something like this?” Before she could react the boy placed a heavy black boot on her hand and started to put his weight onto it.

Shit.

“What do you want from me?” She blurted out, praying silently that she hadn’t messed up the Japanese grammar, which really shouldn’t have been a concern given this encounter could feasibly end with a broken hand.

The pressure stopped briefly and she took the chance to tug her hand out from her under his shoe and get to her feet. The girl was a little surprised to find that the boy was no taller than she was, although his general aura of menace certainly made him intimidating enough without needing any extra height. 

“Ah, so you can talk. As for what I want… why don’t we start with an apology for shrieking in my ear earlier? It hurt you know?” He made a show of obnoxiously cleaning out his ear with his finger and the girl found herself completely lost for words. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, there were a lot of words swirling in her brain, all of them English and not to be used amongst polite company.

Biting back the urge to tell him to fuck off, she reminded herself that she was currently alone with this guy on a rooftop and angering him further probably would not end well. “I apologize for shouting in your ear, you surprised me. I’ll be going now.” Lunch forgotten, she went to make a hasty retreat to the rooftop door but was stopped short when the male put himself directly into her path. 

“Not so fast, you haven’t answered my question yet. What were you doing up here, sticking your head into the roses like some kind of animal?” The girl tried to keep her breathing even, as she felt panic rise in her veins.

“I wanted to take pictures as drawing references, I didn’t realize that-” an arsehole like you would show up “-someone else was already here, forgive me, I’ll be on my way.” She went to take a step around him, when the boy took a step towards her, forcing her to take one back. Soon her back was pressed up against the railing and she internally cursed.

“You just wanted to draw some pictures of the flowers? Isn’t that a bit childish? Well, I guess you still wear kid’s underwear so I shouldn’t be surprised.” The girl spluttered and instinctively went to yank down her skirt, a slightly ridiculous action, considering he must have seen everything when he pushed her earlier. 

“That-that doesn’t have anything to do with it,” she said, eyes on the ground as her face burned with shame. “Please, just let me leave.”

“You know, you still sound pretty demanding for someone who’s shaking and is covered in mud. Also,” he paused, sniffing the air briefly before glancing down at her knees, “ah I wondered where that awful scent was coming from, geez human blood really isn’t appealing at all.” The girl looked at her legs and caught sight of red liquid staining her knees, but that wasn’t what made her pause.

“Human blood? What are you-” A cold dread spread through her as she looked back up at the boy and the inhuman color of his iris. This had to be some sort of awful prank right?

“Oh, maybe I spoke too much, but that reaction isn’t bad, haha. Hey, what do you think I am?” He asked her, opening his mouth just wide enough to reveal a pair of gleaming white fangs.

“That’s… There’s no way… You can’t…” The girl struggled to process the image in front of her, trying to find some sensible sounding explanation. He had to be a nutjob with fake fangs right? A nutjob who liked to terrorize girls on rooftops and happened to go to a night school.

“Ah how boring. Shouldn’t most girls be crying with fear by now? I don’t want to but, would you react a bit more if I pierced you with these fangs?” He lowered his face and panic surged through her. Lunatic or something else, she had no intention of being bitten by him. The girl went to shove him away from her, but before she could blink he had her arms pinned above her head.

“It seems you still haven’t learned that I’m not the sort of person you should fight back against. Hey, how much would it take to make you cry?” His grip on her wrists tightened and she winced at the strength in his grip. “Your wrists are pretty thin, I’d barely have to use any of my strength to snap your bones.”

“Please stop!” She begged, as she silently prayed for someone, anyone to intervene.

“Oi Shin, what are you doing?” An incredibly deep voice came from the entrance to the rooftop and the girl said a silent word of thanks.

“Huh,” Shin looked over his shoulder, allowing the girl a glance at her savior. He was tall, with long white hair, that appeared dyed pink at the tips. A dark scarf covered the lower half of his face, while above it were a pair of piercing golden eyes. 

A shudder ran down her spine as her gaze locked with his for a moment, suddenly feeling a lot less safe than she had just a moment ago.

“Ah brother, I was just having a bit of fun.” The girl wasn’t sure which part of this statement horrified her more. That her so called savoir was actually related to the demonic pile of steaming garbage in front of her or that this was Shin’s version of fun. 

“That’s enough, we have matters to discuss.” The man walked over from the door to the roof, his footsteps stopping just behind Shin.

“Tch,” Shin let go of her arms, only to grip hold of her chin, moving his face uncomfortably close to hers. “Hey, if you tell anyone about what happened here, I’ll rip your tongue out, got it?” His fangs caught the light as he spoke, and the girl felt very close to tears as she muttered a soft yes. 

Shin flashed her that nasty smile of his before letting go. “Well then, get out of here!” 

Needing no further prompting, she hastily got away from him, pausing only to grab her school bag. As she did so, she caught sight of her lunchbox in the older boys hands and faltered. 

“Go!” Shin yelled and the girl concluded that the ham sandwich and peanut butter flavored chocolate bar contained in the hundred yen tupperware were not worth her life as she borderline ran to the rooftop door, slamming it shut behind her. 

***

Carla watched the girl flee from the rooftop with a dispassionate expression. 

“What exactly did you do?” He asked, more concerned with trying to keep their low profile as they furthered their objective than anything else.

“Nothing much, I just toyed with her a bit. She’s only a human so it doesn’t really matter does it? More importantly, why did you keep hold of that?” Shin nodded towards the plastic container in Carla’s hands. 

Carla said nothing as he opened up the box and pulled out a modest sandwich wrapped neatly in clingfilm. Removing some of the wrap, he sniffed it briefly before muttering.

“I thought so.”

Shin took a deep breath through his nose. “Ah, I see, a dry cured ham sandwich huh?”

“Normally I would never eat something prepared by human hands but to take away the taste of that polluted blood, it can’t be helped.” Carla lowered his scarf and took a bite of the sandwich, chewing a few times as he deemed it to be palatable before swallowing. “Oi Shin, take this.” He threw a plastic wrapped bar at his brother and Shin caught it without effort.

He turned it over in his hands before spotting the reason why his brother had given it to him. “Peanut butter huh? Well at least it seems that girl’s good for something.”

[moonlightrichie]

Prompt: reddie meeting at a museum

Gosh, sorry this took so long, but I hope you like it! Thanks so much for the prompt, it was lotsa fun to write ♡

I also wrote a part 2: READ HERE

”I just love the duh-detailing on the trees, do you s-see that?”

“Uh huh”, Eddie barely gave the painting a glance, instead looking around to see if there was anything else interesting nearby. Bill didn’t notice.

“And then the sky in between the b-branches, even though it’s black, somehow it’s still puh-popping out of the frame”, Bill finally seemed to notice Eddie looking away and poked his upper arm. “Eddie, are you seeing this?”

“Sure.” Leaning in, he tried taking in whatever Bill had just said, but it had disappeared from his mind. Into one ear and out the other.

“Probably one of my f-favorites so far.”

If only they hadn’t already been there for two hours Eddie might have cared. Instead he was bored out of his mind.

“Bill”, Eddie finally got his attention. “This was fun for the first half hour, but you promised there was that special art piece here? When are we getting to see that?”

It had been a week since Bill had called in excitement, babbling on the phone about the new space exhibit at their local art museum. Apparently lots of talented artists from their area. Eddie had been intrigued, especially when Bill mentioned the highlight of the exhibit: a closed room where if you stood at specific spots, it looked like you were floating in space.

“And it’s all juh-just optical illusion! And it’s painted on, glow-in-the-dark painting! Absolutely a-amazing!” Bill had yelled.

Eddie had quickly agreed after that. The universe wasn’t something he was majorly invested in or anything, but an illusion of floating in space? Now that sounded interesting. He wanted to get more knowledge on art anyways, get some perspective.

And he’d really tried. Oh, how he’d tried. Yet, there were only so many paintings of stars he could look at before it all blended together and his brain started melting.

“Oh”, Bill raised his eyebrows, seeming to just remember about that part of the exhibit. “Of course, it’s over here.”

Apparently that specific room was used for special art pieces all the time, and Bill (visiting the museum quite often), knew well where it was.

“Here”, he nodded towards a box of a room, smaller than Eddie had pictured, about the size of his own bedroom back in Derry. “I have to go pee, but you can just go ahead and I’ll j-join you in a minute.”

Bill was off before Eddie could respond.

Sighing, he slid the door open and it glided to the side soundlessly. In the darkness he could barely spot the silhouette of another man, the quiet from the room much more pressuring than he’d anticipated.

It was the kind of quiet where it felt like even the smallest of breaths would ruin the atmosphere and shatter the layer of silence. Glad to be wearing soft sneakers, he managed to step inside without disturbing the man.

He finally got to look around the room then, stars and planets painted all around. The four walls, the ceiling and even the floor were covered in black. It was obvious he was standing in the wrong place, the stars looking disfigured and stretched out.

After some time getting used to the dark, he finally saw a gray X on the floor, marking one of the spots where the optical illusion would work. So he walked over, as quiet as he could, but as soon as he focused back on the art, he couldn’t help the small gasp escaping him.

That was when a short yelp broke through the silence, making Eddie jump out of his bones in alarm.

“Holy shit!” a voice started laughing behind him, and Eddie whipped around. “Oh, my god. You scared me!”

“What?” Eddie’s heart was still beating fast, eyes landing on the man.

“I got so lost in looking at Jupiter that I just completely zoned out, didn’t notice anyone coming in.”

Even in the dim light, Eddie noticed the man running a hand through his hair, a mop of curls reaching down to his shoulders. He was tall, wearing glasses that reflected some of the stars on the wall, and he seemed to be grinning.

“Sorry?” Eddie still didn’t understand.

“Your little gasp there, snapped me right out of my trance.”

“Oh”, Eddie sighed, feeling his heart slow down. “Well, you scared me too so I guess we’re even.”

The man laughed. “I guess we are.”

They stood looking at each other for a few seconds, and Eddie considered turning around to resume his watching. But then the man waved him over with a hand gesture. “Come here.”

With cautious steps, Eddie furrowed his brows before walking towards him.

“Alright, stand here.” The man stepped away and pointed down at the X he’d been standing on just a few seconds ago. Putting his hands on Eddie’s shoulder, he turned him around to point him towards the painted planet, a finger appearing right next to Eddie’s head. “Look.”

And oh.

“Oh”, Eddie’s eyes widened as he took it in, the details, the gorgeous mix of browns and blues and whites, the swirls and spirals, looking so real. It was breathtaking.

“It’s amazing, right?” The man still had his hands on Eddie, looking over his shoulder so he could study the painting too. “I was probably staring at it for three minutes straight earlier.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“You’ve seen those pictures of Jupiter, right?”

“No, I don’t think so?” Eddie couldn’t tear his eyes away from the art.

“Well, I think it’s my favorite planet, it’s just so beautiful. And those pictures, I’ll have to show them to you after - anyways, this painter has captured it so well.” The man was almost whispering now, voice hushed and low.

“Wow.” Eddie himself didn’t have much knowledge on the universe, not much interest either. But listening to this man sparked it nonetheless. Just hearing someone who cared and obviously loved it so much made it much more easy to take it all in.

“Do you have a favorite planet?”

“Uh, I’ve never really thought about it”, Eddie scratched his head. “I guess this one doesn’t look too bad.”

A breath of laughter hit Eddie’s ear. “Not too bad?”

Eddie sighed. “Alright, it’s breathtaking.”

“Glad we agree.”

Eddie nodded his head, turning around to face the man. He was standing closer than Eddie had thought and Eddie ended up knocking into him with his shoulder. “Uh.”

“Oh!” The man took a step back. “Sorry, didn’t mean to step all into your space there.”

“No, that’s”, Eddie managed a smile, gears already turning inside his head at the man’s comment. “That’s okay, I guess we’re in the same space here anyways, huh?” He pointed his finger around the room, a stupid grin on his face.

The man stood staring for a second, and Eddie feared that he might have just embarrassed himself. But then the man laughed, the sound bright and happy.

“I’m-” the man was shaking his head. “Wow, that’s- that’s adorable.”

He was cute. Like, he was really cute. And even though it was dark, the only light coming from the glowing stars around them, it wasn’t hard to see. A charming smile, sharp nose and fluffy hair that looked even softer than the fleece Eddie had at home. The one he cuddled into every winter, stroking at the arms without thinking, the fabric silky-smooth underneath his fingers.

And was that freckles he saw?

Eddie couldn’t even see the man’s eyes, but he was still mesmerized, almost as much as he was by Jupiter.

“I’m Richie.”

“Eddie.”

“Do you-”, Richie rocked back and forth on his heels, gesturing with his head towards the door, “do you wanna step outside for a bit?”

“Sure.”

The two smiled at each other shyly before shuffling out of the room, door sliding open just as quietly as earlier.

The light blinded Eddie for a moment, and he had to blink harshly a couple of times.

“Jesus, that’s bright”, Richie removed his glasses to rub at his eyes. When he looked back up, putting them on again, Eddie wanted to sigh in frustration, because really? Gorgeous blue eyes? Seriously?

Eddie was very gay, and it was just unfair at this point.

“So, Eddie?” Richie tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. “You come here often?”

“No, not really”, Eddie admitted. “I’m just here with my friend Bill, he’s an art nerd so he comes here a lot.”

Richie was nodding his head. “Oh, that’s cool”, he laughed nervously, “I was actually trying a pick-up line on you?” Eddie’s heart stopped. “But uh, I appreciate getting an answer.” His smile dropped, brows furrowing. “Did I read this wrong?”

“No!” Eddie exclaimed, Richie’s eyes widening. “No, uh, you didn’t.” He pulled a hand through his hair with a chuckle.

“No?”

With a smile, Eddie shook his head. “No.”

“Oh.”

They stood staring at each other, both smiling at their new-found discovery

“So, uh”, Eddie stopped. “What about you? You come here often?”

Richie stepped closer, eyes narrowed. “You hitting on me?”

A confidence washed over Eddie as he smiled. “I am.”

“Well, then you should know that no, I don’t come here often, but a friend of mine told me about the space exhibit so I just really had to go.”

“You’re really into space then?”

“Oh, yes! The entire universe is just”, Richie paused, seeming to be deep in thought before meeting Eddie’s gaze with glittering eyes. “It’s just amazing.”

“I don’t really know much about the universe”, Eddie put his hands inside his pockets. “But I really wanna learn more now.”

“Oh!” Richie jumped up slightly, feet tripping underneath him as he clapped his hands together. “I got a telescope at home! If you want, we can watch the stars together sometime?”

Eddie couldn’t help the grin breaking out on his face. His hands were itching to cover his face in his excitement, a scream building up in his chest. It was like being 15 again.

Managing to keep his cool, Eddie cleared his throat and tipped his head back to look up at Richie. “I’d love that.”

The two of them were exchanging phone numbers when Bill finally came back, a confused look on his face as he looked at Richie. Eddie had almost forgotten Bill even existed.

“I’ll call you”, Richie said as he was backing away.

“Looking forward to it”, Eddie smiled.

With one last wink, Richie turned around and was soon looking at other paintings.

“Who was that?” Bill asked.

“His name’s Richie”, Eddie was still staring. “We’re going stargazing together.”

“Uh?” Bill dragged out, stepping into Eddie’s love-struck vision and pulling him out of his daze.

His eyes snapped back to Bill, and he shook his head slightly. “Never mind, what took so long?”

“Ran into an old fuh-friend on the way back.”

“Oh.”

“You got to see the art in the duh-dark room then?”

“Yeah.”

“How was it?”

Eddie’s gaze immediately wandered back to Richie’s form on the other side of the room, noticing that Richie was already looking over at him. They smiled at each other.

“It was amazing.”

[thong-in-the-twist]

Three quarters of dream, one of reality

Warning: hand jobs

We all know because of whom I wrote this. And we all know because of which song. The problem is I heard the story and wrote this thing before checking the lyrics, so it doesn’t really match. And I wrote it, checked lyrics, decided to rewrite this, but in the end – I just like it so I didn’t, so there you go.

“I can’t believe you dragged me out there for our date. We don’t get many of those, you know?” Jongdae was reeling. In his mind – rightfully so. Their schedules never matched. And when he said never he meant never. In his line of work he didn’t get a lot of free time, and to make matter worse she was a student, working late gastro shifts on top of that.

Of course their schedules never matched.

But he has finally found time. In few days they would start a new project, so he got what they call “a cool down period” after the last one. Perfect time to visit family, enjoy earned money, recharge gears for few months of hard work.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered. It wasn’t directed at him, she was apologizing to couple sitting under the other wall. After they turned away, still looking offended, she threw him a stern stare. “Could you keep it down? We are in the library.”

“That’s my whole point,” he answered, moving closer to her, this time whispering as well. “Why are we in the library?”

Of course he knew why. But it didn’t make it easier to accept it. His free time coincided with her exam period. So if he wanted to see her, he didn’t have much of a choice, really. That’s how he found himself in the bright library, well after dark, with a stupid novel Kyungsoo forced into his hand few months ago, but he never got around to read it, behind a table covered with books and notes, next to her.

She turned back to her notes – all colorful and neat and perfect, and so unlike those he had back when he was studying. His life was so different now, but he could still remember how it worked, especially how intense were exams.

Even if Jongdae understood, it didn’t mean that he enjoyed the situation. But he appreciated being next to her. His book was mostly laying forgotten on the table, as he shamelessly stared at her, his girlfriend, studying. She was engrossed in her studies, bent low, eyes not leaving her notes, but to him – she was as glamorous as always.

Especially when she threw her hair over her shoulder, to get it out of the way, exposing her neck.

Jongdae sighed and opened his book. He missed her smile – she heard his exhale, and she understood his feelings, but she couldn’t push her luck, exams were imprtant. So she just patted his thigh and went back to studying.

It was such a simple gesture. A nice reassuring pat, just a sign of connection. But at the same time it was so much more, as if this simple thing opened a drawer in his mind, that couldn’t be just closed, brought an itch that couldn’t be just scratched.

What would have happened if her hand just stayed there? Or better, if she caressed his thigh, hand sliding up and down his leg. What would have happened, if her fingers skimmed over his zipper, just a barest touch, pinpricks of warmth. Would be she daring enough to rub him through his jeans, there in the library, with their only shield being table and chairs?

Jongdae shifted uncomfortably in his seat, knowing that his line of thought wasn’t leading him anywhere. Or rather, it wasn’t safe. But he could still feel her lingering warmth, and either way he has already crossed the line.

His mind supplied him the image of her, just as focused on her studies as she was right now, but in his mind – she was only pretending to, her right hand under the table, popping the button of his jeans closed. Would he make a noise? He probably would, and she would probably send him one of those disapproving stares, maybe she’d even scold him ”it’s a library”, as she slid her hand inside his trousers. Would she jerk him off fast, or would she go slow, rubbing the head in the circular motions.

Jongdae exhaled shakily, earning himself an eyebrows-furrowed stare.

“Are you ok?” She whispered, eyeing him suspiciously. “You are sweating.”

Was he supposed to answer – it’s ok, I am imagining you jerking me off here, care to do it for real?

Jongdae was bold and he never stood down from a challenge, but even that was too much.

What would have happened if he came down his pants?

*

“How are you exams going?” Of course it’s Junmyeon who asked. Jongdae did his best not to roll his eyes, but his girlfriend seemed perfectly happy to answer. And she did, going into all the details.

In the beginning he felt sorry for his plus one, but when she started to talk, he realized that Junmyeon was the one receiving the short stick there.

Jongdae turned his head to Minseok to bother him, hoping that his own conversation would draw out his girlfriend’s story.

It wasn’t him being rude, it was him protecting his sanity – he heard the same exact talk so many times over last few weeks, only changing after she wrote one of her exams, but basically being the same old story he heard every time she had exams.

Subjects may change, but her story does not.

He didn’t get a chance to bother Minseok, because she patted his thigh. Again. And her hand stayed on his thigh, as she turned to him, with a smile.

“Right, Jongdae?”

He had no fucking idea what she was talking about. None in the slightest, and the only thing he could focus on was her small hand on his thigh. Her warm, small hand, with those beautiful fingers, and god she was expecting him to answer.

“Yes, absolutely.” He said, hoping that he wasn’t committing a perjury, but both she and Junmyeon seemed satisfied, and she went on to describe how her uni’s library work.

Her hand stayed on his thigh.

It was laying there, full - fingertips to wrist - contact.

His brain was having a real problem processing that. It was a simple gesture. A nice one, a warm one, lovely one. Possessive, but in this nice meaning – showing the world that they belong to each other.

But Jongdae’s brain wasn’t signaling love. It was signaling her hand is so close to your dick – it’s a perfect time to think about it.

Even though official dinner with your group, and half of staff and their plus ones, wasn’t really a place for that.

But his mind just decided to screw the company and just play Jongdae a nice movie.

In this movie (Jongdae haven’t yet chosen the name, but something about touching seemed nice) she was touching him. Her fingernails scraped along his inner thigh, warm hand cupping him through his suit pants. In this movie she was still talking to Junmyeon, quite indifferent to Jongdae’s suffering. She asked him another question, as she dragged the zipper down – it was only to cover this unmistakable sound. He stuttered though his answer, unable to focus with his dick in a loose circle of her fist. She wasn’t really moving her hand, probably not to alarm people sitting around them, but she could move her fingers freely, so she did.

“Jongdae?” Jongdae’s head snapped up, and he found her staring at him. “It’s a third time I am calling you.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat, and sat up straight, feeling hot under the collar and realizing he shouldn’t be walking around until he calmed himself down. “What was it?”

“You were just staring at the table, so I thought something happened.” Her hand was still on his thigh, and she had no idea.

He laughed awkwardly and shifted in his seat, his left hand dropping down to take her hand and tangle their fingers together.

He turned his head to Baekhyun and focused on his new hair – hoping it would help him in cooling down.

*

“But I hate it.” Jongdae whined, knowing well enough that nothing was going to help him. Well yes, it was a common knowledge that he passionately despised driving a car, but what could he do, when his girlfriend didn’t even have a license. “Can’t we call for designated driver?”

“Sure.” She said, using that voice she reserved for moments when he was acting stupid. “Let’s call for designated driver, wait for him for devil knows how long, and then let’s pay him for the trouble, when my boyfriend, owner of this car, didn’t drink and there is nothing against him driving it.”

Jongdae blinked. There was some truth to her words. Why girlfriends are always so logical.

“I guess I will drive.” She smiled at him indulgently and turned on her heel to take seat. He didn’t sigh audibly, he did that in his mind,  but nonetheless he sat down behind the wheel.

He watched her for a moment, as she checked her make-up in the sun-shield mirror, and fixed her hair, throwing it over her shoulder, spreading her perfume in the car.

Jongdae loved her with every fiber of his body. Especially when she smiled at him, just like that – all happy and sexy. It was amazing that after all this time the smallest gesture could still make him fall for her – every time deeper.

He started the engine, and everything was going great, until she decided to help him, in her own special way.

She patted his thigh and yelled let’s go!

He drove into another car.

More like bumped into, just a smallest touch, but nevertheless it was embarrassing.

“What are you doing!” She screamed, so oblivious to the fact that she did it. Maybe not directly, but his mental image of her jerking him off was just too much to take.

He backed up and got out of the car. They didn’t talk as they waited for damaged car’s owner to arrive. Jongdae settled the problem quickly, being as honest as he could. The other driver didn’t take it lightly, but it was still better then fuming presence of his girlfriend.

On the way home she turned to him and asked a very difficult question.

“What has gotten into you lately?”

He shrugged, trying not to think about her hand tapping on door (clear display of irritation).

*

“Do you want to watch Netflix?” She asked coming into the room. His eyes jumped to her silhouette, but he immediately focused back on his game. He was spread all over the couch enjoying one of those primitive fighting games.

“Now?” He asked trying not to convey his dismay. Netflix was nice, it meant movie and cuddling, and stuff, but he was in the middle of the game and he didn’t feel like stopping.

She set down bowl of cheetos on the coffee table and flopped down next to him.

“Don’t want to?” She answered question with question, and he stole a glance at her wrinkling his nose.

“Not really.” He answered truthfully, but apologetically. She whined.

“My girl,” said Jongdae immediately, not believing he did that. Thankfully she laughed. She ate a cheeto and spoke up again.

“How about I challenge you, and if I win we watch Netflix, if you win, you still play?”

“It’s not really a challenge, since I will obviously win.” He said matter-of-factly, but she just smiled.

“I do have a secret weapon.” She deadpanned, and took the other pad.

He shrugged, but changed settings to include second player. They both chose character, and just when the game started countdown, he decided to ask.

“What kind of secret weapon you were talking about?”

She waved her hand in front of his face.

“Those fingers.”

The match was short. Mercifully short, considering how badly she beat him. It was embarrassing.

To make it worse, she patted his thigh.

“Bad luck, eh?”

And after that she put on the movie she wanted to watch.

But Jongdae just couldn’t focus. Once again the thought of her fingers, her hand was driving him crazy. Like that time in the library, at the dinner, in the car, just now, he just wished she would really touch him. He did jerk off regularly, but it wasn’t the same.  He didn’t know what was the appeal, why his mind found it so arousing, but yes he was jerking off to thoughts of her jerking him off.

Which was weird, because he knew how to ask for sex – he just didn’t know how to ask for that type of sex. Which he may have or may have not put in a song.

“Oh for fuck sake.” Jongdae heard suddenly, snapping back to reality. He didn’t know for how long he was out, but judging from her irritation – long enough. “It’s not rocket science, you know?”

He was lost. Utterly lost, and he looked around searching for help, but inanimate objects are never really helpful, and oh god her hand is on his thigh.

“Uhm… Right.” He said, his mind whirling, as he tried not to focus on her hand. Which she moved definitely-not-shyly up his leg, until she reached his crotch. She cupped him through his pants, and her hand was warm and solid and everything he imagined and more. He looked at her, eyes wide and lost.

She saw the question, before he gathered himself and asked it.

She rolled her eyes in the same circular motion she rubbed him through his sweatpants. He whimpered.

“You wrote a song about hand jobs.” That was her only explanation, and if he was able to think clearly, he’d agree that was a valid point. But she was sliding her hand into his pants and he wasn’t nowhere near thinking clearly.

Her hand was soft and warm, just like he imagined, but it wasn’t as delicate as he thought it would be. It was smoother than his, and definitely smaller, but there was roughness to her touch. Ans she was still in advantage, because it was her hand. Contrary to his dreams and daydreams, she wasn’t shy about it. That was her, always focused on the matter at hand and giving her all.

Which meant pulling his dick out, and using both hands.

Which in short terms was fucking amazing. When one hand was rubbing the shaft, the other rolled his balls. When one hand was circling around the head, the other one teased the underside. She just went on an adventure, really getting to know his penis with her hands.

And he loved every second.

His only regret was not lasting very long – but no one would blame him. In the end he was just living through his most persistent fantasy.

He came all over her right hand, and decided not to be embarrassed about that. He just stared at her in wonder, as she stared at her hand with badly concealed disgust.

“I love you.” He rasped, deciding that it might be time to stuff his dick back in his pants.

“Lovely,” she scoffed, still not looking at him. “You say it, because I gave you hand job.”

“Most amazing hand job, but yeah.” He said, feeling more alive than he was for last few weeks. He moved to kiss her, but she wrinkled her nose and evaded, by standing up to go to the bathroom. Having cleaned her hand she came back and stopped in the threshold.

“Are you feeling better?” She asked.

“I am feeling amazing, why?”

“Because for a number of times you spaced out, while imagining I was jerking you off in public. “He sputtered, but didn’t deny. It was truth. “And all you had to do was ask.”

He laughed, and as soon as she sat down next to him, he threw his arm around her and brought her closer.

“I didn’t know, you’d be so willing.” He said, dropping his voice an octave lower, trying (and in his mind succeeding) to be sexy. She shook her hand.

“Jongdae,” she started slowly, as if she wanted to convey very important message,” I will always be willing.”

[writingtopasstime]

In The Dead Of Night

Overview: Y/n works on Supernatural and one night everything just gets too much. 

Song Inspiration: Broken by Seether Ft. Amy Lee

Trigger Warning: Self-Harm, Depression, Anxiety, Anxiety/Panic Attacks, Suicide

Word Count: 1,937 Words

Note: I’ve just been having a hard time so I wrote this. 

PLEASE get help if you are struggling! At the very least talk to someone. https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ Always Keep Fighting <3

Everyone thought she had it easy. Working on a famous TV Show is the best thing ever. You're so lucky. Their words weren't always true. Y/n knew how amazing it was to land a job like she had. To live out her dreams but sometimes she didn't feel that way. Most nights she could hardly sleep. Now it was starting to carry over into the day. A dreading feeling. An unexplainable pit that would open up inside her. Y/n had been dealing with it all her life. It was so bad in school that she almost got kicked out for missing so many days. There was something that shut her body down. She had managed it for years by releasing her dread onto her skin. Then when she landed her Supernatural job as a fellow hunter to Jared and Jensen's brotherhood she decided to pull herself back together. And thankfully it worked until now. It had been a little over a year since she took a blade to her skin but there she was. She was desperate to rid the demons in her head. It worked her into a frenzy until she was gasping for air itching her a release.

Y/n groaned as the sleeve of her shirt scratched into her cuts. It was a stupid thing to do but at the time it felt right. She hated to admit but she missed the stinging feeling. It helped ground her in the moment and let her focus on something other than her intrusive thoughts. Luckily she didn't have anything to film for a while. But today was a convention day. She had to meet Jared, Jensen, and Misha in the lobby of the hotel. Glancing at the clock she was already ten minutes late. Taking a deep breath she slid her sunglasses on and head out. Surprisingly she was the last to make it downstairs.

"There you are we were about to send Jared up there. What's up? You’re normally the first one down here?" Jensen inquired.

"I'm exhausted. I couldn't sleep at all last night." She hoped that the excuse would hold up. Technically it wasn't a lie. She was up all night.

"Well luckily for you Rob stopped to get coffee for us since we're running late so let's go." Jensen moved ahead Jared close behind but Misha walked beside Y/n. He leaned into her.

"What's really going on you hungover?" Misha joked. Y/n shook her head.

"I'm completely sober. I haven’t even had a drink in like two weeks." Misha gave her a look like a parent would. “Really Misha I’m okay.” The lie rolled so easily off her tongue. She bit her lip as she pushed on following her costars. She could-should just tell them the truth. Jared shared all his troubles and now he was getting help but there was that nagging part of her brain that always pushed logic away. The part of her brain that told her she was a burden. That insisted she keep everything in. They all had families they were waiting for them to go home to and if she told them what she was going through she knew that they would drop it for her. They would stick around and she couldn’t take that away from her friends. So instead she buried it and hoped it stayed down until she was alone again.

The convention was in full swing. Jared, Jensen and Y/n were doing their collective panel. Y/n with some coffee in her and with the laughter of the fans was beginning to feel better. The intrusive thoughts were in the background. It looked like it was going to be a better day. Jensen pointed to the right for the next question. The next girl was already crying when she took hold of the microphone. Y/n lifted her own microphone to her lips. “Hey, it’s alright. Take a breath,” she demonstrated. “We’re all family here.” The girl took a deep breath but her voice still shook when she spoke.

“I don’t have a question actually I just wanted to say thank you for saving my sister's life.” She started to cry again. Y/n’s heart clenched in her chest. It was always hard listening to stories about suicide or self-harm but it was especially close to her heart today. Jared got up and made his way over to the young woman. He held her as she continued speaking. “She tried to kill herself and while she was recovering in the hospital I showed her Supernatural and now she’s healthy and happy.” The crowd erupted in applause. Jared pulled her closer. When he pulled back she added onto her story. “Y/n I just wanted to say that you are her inspiration to get better and stay strong and I can’t thank you enough.” The tears started to build in Y/n's eyes. She couldn't help the feeling that closed her throat. She immense guilt that washed over her. There was someone who looked up for strength and she was falling apart. I'm a fraud. A liar. She focused her eyes on the laces of her boots. She felt a nudge from her left. Her eyes slid up to Jensen's face. Just seeing the worried look that crossed over him pushed her over the edge. Quickly without looking back at the audience mumbled sorry excuse me before slipping behind the curtain.

"Y/n," Richard said. There was the small group of her costars who were standing in front of her. All were worried and albeit a bit confused. Y/n shook her head a sob breaking out. The group quickly surrounded her.

"You gonna be okay?" Misha asked. Y/n wiped at her face. She opened her mouth but she was cut off.

"Hey, you alright?" Jared came back followed by Jensen. Y/n took a shaky breath.

"I-I've just been drained lately but I don't want to keep the fans waiting. Let's talk about this later okay." She looked around at her makeshift family. A small glimmer of a smile appeared on her face. "I'll be okay. Her story just hit me hard." Jared pulled Y/n into a giant huge.

"We're here for you." He pulled her along as they went back on stage. Cheers erupted. They settled back in with Jared and Jensen closer than before.

"I'm sorry. That just hit me hard. I know what you're going through." Jensen patted her thigh. Y/n pushed away the rest of her tears. "Let's just move onto the next question hopefully a happy one?" She gave a short laugh but the dread was there like an evil shadow hovering over her.

Y/n feigned being too tired to go out to dinner and drinks with the cast. She just needed her time alone. It had been a draining week and she just wanted to curl under her covers. And she did just that when she got into her hotel room. She didn’t bother to take off her clothing as she buried herself under the comforter. She turned on the TV but more so for background noise. Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Moose: Hope you’re doing well. Get some rest. Check on you later.

Y/n smiled at his words. She quickly replied with a kissing face emoji. She was gonna close her eyes but then she saw an excess amount of notifications on social media. Her twitter was blowing up. She opened the app. Everyone was talking about her walking out of the convention. Some good things but her mind wanted to highlight the bad ones. Y/n took a shaky breath. She dropped her phone onto the nightstand with a sigh. So much to sleeping.

Jared couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was happening. The way Y/n was acting reminded him of how he was and it terrified him. So instead of staying out to drink after dinner, he went straight back to the hotel.

“What’s the hurry?“ Jensen asked. He decided to call it a night as well not wanting to leave his best friend alone to figure things out.

“I just need to make sure she’s doing okay,“ Jared replied. "I have a bad feeling. I think Y/n is lying to us. I don’t think she’s alright. I think she’s- I don’t know but I think things are bad.” Jared sighed shaking his head. He unlocked his phone staring at the unanswered messages he sent her at dinner. 

“Don’t work yourself up. We’ll figure this out.” Jensen clapped his friend on the should as they pulled up the hotel. The walk up to the room was quiet. Jensen knocked first. No answer. Jared knocked. Still no answer. “She’s probably just sleeping.“ Jensen tried to rationalize. Jared shook his head. 

“I don’t like this.“ Then the door creaked open. Y/n peeked her head out. Her eyes were red and puffy. She had been crying. Jared stepped forward pushing the door open and embracing her in a hug. Y/n started to sob into his chest. Jensen stepped into the room shutting the door behind them. “Hey, shhh it’s alright.“ Jensen moved forward and joined the hug. 

“Whatever is going on we’re here for you.“ She pulled away from the two men sniffling. 

“I’m sorry.“ Jared was going to question what she was talking about but his eyes caught her shirt sleeve. A crimson red color stained the fabric. Jared’s eyes watered at the sight. Y/n wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m so sorry.“ Jared wanted to say something comforting but his voice was stuck in his throat. Tears flowed from his eyes. “It’s too late,” she said her voice cracked. 

“What are you talking about? What did you do?“ Jensen asked panicked. She pulled up her sleeves to reveal the fresh wounds. Jared glanced away, the tears freely flowing. Jensen didn’t have words. He stared in shock. Then his instincts kicked he snatched a hand towel from the bathroom wetting it in the sink before he was back in the room. Jared moved forward gently pulling Y/n onto the edge of the bed. Jensen took her arm gently really getting a look at the damage. Her whole arm was covered. Jensen gave her a sad look before dabbing at the wounds with the towel. She winced. The silence was heavy. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jensen asked quietly. Jared placed his arm on her back. 

“I’ve been having a lot of trouble lately with my anxiety and depression. I just cracked. I haven’t- this hasn’t happened for a while. I’m sorry.“

“Don’t. Stop apologizing.“ Jared barked. He took a deep breath calming his emotions. “Look I get it but why not come to us?“

“I feel like a burden. No matter how many times someone tells me I’m not I still feel like one so I bottled it up.” Jensen finished cleaning dropping the stained towel onto the floor beside where he kneeled before his friends. Y/n stared down at her lap. Jensen’s hands lifted her chin. 

“I don’t care how many times it will take for you to learn this but you are not a burden and I don’t care how long it takes we are gonna make you feel better.“ Y/n closed her eyes tears falling. She leaned into Jensen’s touch reveling in the comfort of someone else. Her heart swelled at the thought. She never had the support system that the Supernatural family gave her. She knew that they would keep their promise. She knew they would be there for her like they were with Jared. Through all the best and worst moments. They were her guardian angels.

[scartale-an-undertale-au]

Papers of Homelessness - Chapter 27

(This banner had been made by the awesome and amazing artist @benteja​. i am so honored that she had drawn this banner for this story. please go and show her all the love in the world that she deserves!!! \[^o^]/)

BEFORE | NEXT

a/n: Prepare for an extremely long chapter. wanted to make it shorter… didn’t work. i’m so sorry for the mobile users T-T I don’t know why it won’t work for mobile Q~Q

“Spill.”

Glasses covered eyes stared at you in confusion.

You were not amused.

Recap. You had woken up earlier than usual and remembering your talk with your father, you had picked up your knitting tools and begun circling a green thread around the two (search for the word of the needles), entering the absentminded lull of the twirling and pulling, your mind quickly adjusting your angle or speed depending on which part you were working on.

When your mother had called your name from the kitchen, you had finished half of a sweater, a very familiar sweater that you used to wear as a confused ten year old, and calmness had washed over you, the itch scratched.

You had really needed that…

You had taken the bus to morning classes, managing to avoid eye contact with anyone until you got to your class.

Alphys had approached you at ten-thirty, the morning break, and asked if Undyne was too forward for you. You had nodded but then said that it wasn’t that bad at the end. The blonde woman had smiled in relief and told you to visit occasionally and then ran away.

Confused at her meekness after seeing her excitable side, you had sat down in class and scribbled your notes as the professor rambled about balancing different aspects of budgeting and man-power.

Then the class was dismissed and you quickly rushed to the bus.

And now you were here. At the diner. An hour before your shift. Frisk having started earlier today already finishing the last orders of the lunch rush. And Grillby cooking stuff in the backroom. Cornered by you.

Recap over.

“Spill. Now.” You repeated when your boss didn’t answer. “Where is Sans?”

“…Why… Sans…?”

You narrowed your eyes, not wanting to ruin your somewhat good mood with stupid questions. “You both know who Frisk really is, don’t you?”

Grillby’s motions halted and the man finally turned to look at you, wide eyes peeking from the corners of the spectacles. It was the most emotion you had seen from the quiet man and that had jarred you to your bones, pushing aside the annoyed comment you had prepared.

You hardened yourself and took a step forward. “Tell me. Tell Frisk. They deserve the truth.”

Grillby returned to the pot and remained silent for a long time as the giant pot’s contents broiled. You waited for his answer, getting impatient from the growing silence.

Bubbles begun to appear and burst and Grillby turned off the fire, stirring the broth and you smelled the heavy aroma of pumpkin soup. Had Grillby known that this conversation going to happen? Was that why he was so calm? Was he waiting for something?

You were to demand that he answered you when he tapped the long spoon at the edge of the pot to get the soup off and set the soup to shimmer and covered the pot. And then, at last, the redhead turned to you fully, mouth in a firm line.

You braced yourself for anger, dismissal or for any bad reaction.

But instead the man had moved his apron to the side and pushed his hand into his pants pocket, taking out an old fashioned phone and typing something on it and putting it next to his ear.

A long moment passed and you gritted your teeth at your boss’ nonchalant manner, jolting when a voice crackled from the receiver, too far for you to understand the words said.

Grillby nodded. “…It’s time…”

Silence. And then a cough and laughter. Grillby’s eyebrows furrowed. “Don't…run…”

Another silence. Then a short crackle and the man nodded. “…Good…”

A short laugh and Grillby shook his head. “…Punkster…”

A reply and the call was finished. The redhead put back his device in his pocket, the apron returning to cover his front, and told you to close the diner for the day.

Raising a brow at the strange request, you did as your boss asked. You wrote on a slip of a paper that you were unable to open the diner for the afternoon because of urgent matters. Opening time at worst would be the next morning. You then checked that all the patrons left the diner and closed the door, turning the open sign to show the closed side to the street and taping the paper to the glass.

Facing Frisk’s confused stare, you shrugged. She blinked and returned to the registry machine, opening the money drawer and checking the earnings and jotting down the numbers.

Feeling more relaxed, you grabbed a bar stool and settled next to her, lazily staring at her work. After a while, when Frisk finished their calculations, the process longer than what would take you, but impressive for someone new for the trade, she turned to you and after a moment of hesitation and looking around the place, she took off her hood and stared at you.

“Is she pretty?” Undyne’s face appeared in front of your eyes, a smirk evident on her face.

Your ears lit up and Frisk tilted their head as they fiddled with the hair tie holding their hair back, relaxing when their hair was released and fell around her face.

You stared at the long hair in wonderment, wondering how she was able to keep her hair so long and clean on the streets.

“So how was today? Too busy?” You managed to ask, for once eye-level with your date-mate in your slouched position. Frisk nodded, expression showing her exhaustion as she took a step forward and laid her face on your shoulder, arms hanging limply from her shoulders. You snickered and patted her back. “Good work, partner.”

Her shoulders shook a bit and a small snort left her. Your smirk grew bigger and you rested your cheek on her hair, closing your eyes. It was nice… your heartbeat slowed and everything became a bit fuzzy as if you were about to fall asleep.

Limp arms curled up and your fuzzy brain cleared when you realized what was happening. You stiffened when you felt the small hands circle your neck and rest on your back, hot against your chilled skin.

Was… was Frisk hugging you? Your body flushed when she pressed her face closer to your neck, her arms slightly raised, as if not knowing if to rest them on you or not. You took a deep breath and stood up, Frisk stiffening and releasing you.

Shit.

You quickly placed your hands around hers and placed them around your midsection, pressing the arms down and then releasing your hold and circling her shoulders with yours, pressing your cheek to her ear.

“And that’s how you hug,” You muttered. She nodded and you felt her eyelashes flutter against your neck as she closed her eyes and buried her face in your neck.

Your back was hurting from the awkward position and you were boiling from embarrassment, but Frisk initiated it. You didn’t want to break the embrace. You knew that you needed to give Frisk the reins here. Something was probably bothering her…

“Any reason you needed a hug?” And that’s how you fuck up a good moment. You idiot, you just thought about how you would give her the time. You truly don’t know to keep your mouth shut, do you?

Frisk jolted and lowered her hands. You sighed and patted her head, holding her a bit tighter. “I was just wondering. It's… it’s just that we never did that… like that, really…” You trailed off, probably as red as a tomato. Hopefully the fact that your cheeks are always red would hide the fact… that and your face was hidden… that was not a good thing to think of.

“Oh…” Frisk returned her arms to their previous position and you relaxed. “Just saw someone… do it earlier…”

“And you wanted to test it out?” You asked with a snort. She nodded. “So?”

“Weird…”

You rolled your eyes. “You really are trying to ruin my manly pride, aren’t you?”

“…You have one?”

“Hey!” You straightened up and broke the embrace, glaring at the hoodless woman, who was blinking at you. Your frown deepened when she turned her head to the side, a hand coming to cover her face, her shoulders shaking with small snorts leaving her mouth.

“Wow, real mature.” You folded your arms and she shrugged, still laughing. You rolled your eyes and pinched her nose. She stared at you, her laughter dying on her lips as she tried to look at your fingers, going slightly cross eyed. You smirked. “I win.”

“You didn't…” She swatted your hand and raised her hand to pinch your nose. Making a mock-gasping noise, you covered her face with your hand, cackling when she retracted her hand to fight off your hand. You laughed and ducked as she threw the pen at you, getting a soft but still strong elbow to your head.

“Ouch!” You yelled and held your throbbing head. Frisk used your momentary distraction to jump over the counter and fall into a fighting posture consisted of slightly bent legs in a ninety degree and fists resting in front of her face. You braced yourself against the table and flung over the table as well, leg already stretched out. Her right leg that was in front rose and she circled to avoid your leg and then returned in the form of a kick. You landed and quickly grabbed her leg, grinning widely.

Now you’re talking.

She frowned and lowered herself. You blinked in confusion than yelped when she jumped with her free leg and tackled you down. You went down, releasing her leg and quickly protecting your head.

Your vision swiveled as your shirt was yanked at. Then you felt a thump and your forehead connected with something hard. You immediately rolled away, holding your freshly bruised forehead and moaning in pain.

A soft groan had you open your watering eyes and roll back to see Frisk covering her face as well, on her back.

She took the fall for you, you realized. She switched your positions in that second of falling to make sure you didn’t hit your head. Holding your forehead, you rose to your knees and crawled to the woman lying on the floor.

“Frisk?” You asked in concern, sitting on your knees and pulling her hands away to see the damage. She was screwing her eyes shut tightly, her lower lip bitten on and a huge bruise was forming on her head.

Okay, so it was bad. You ignored the dizziness and stood up, helping her to her feet and putting her on one of the chairs.

“…What… happened?”

You jolted at the sudden noise, the pain in your head spiking and your world swirling as you spun around to see Grillby stand by the door to the backroom, holding a plate of sliced bread. You stumbled and held your head as you waved to him. The man looked between the two of you for a moment before calmly putting the plate on the counter and bending under the table to fish out the first aid kit.

Minutes later you sat on a chair next to Frisk, the both of you getting a fierce scolding from the man about fighting in-doors while nursing your bruises. Frisk also got banged on her scalp and had gotten an examination from Grillby before he rubbed some cream onto the bruises, murmuring something to her. She nodded then shrugged.

It was almost like a father treating his daughter, you thought amusingly then yelped when Grillby rubbed your forehead, his demeanor just screaming ‘angry’ despite the neutral expression.

“Sorry, Grillbz,” You said after a moment, “Kind of got into the moment.”

“…Childish.”

“A bit,” You agreed, “Sorry about that.”

Grillby eyed you and then pointed to Frisk. You sighed and poked Frisk’s shoulder, making her look at you. You shrugged. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s okay… sorry for hurting you too,” She muttered.

Grillby nodded and then looked back at you with a meaningful stare. You raised a brow, winching when it stretched your bruise. “What is it, Grillbz?”

“…Frisk wants… to know?”

Said woman’s head shot up, her eyes wide, and you had realized then that Frisk had not covered her face since Grillby had come in and didn’t even show any discomfort over the fact that the redhead saw her eyes.

Did Grillby earn her trust? Probably, seeing how they had hid from you the fact about Frisk guarding the diner, they might have not mentioned other stuff to you… and you’re not going to ask about that even though you are itching to demand to know.

You had more pressing matters to talk about.

“Chara?” Frisk asked and you sighed. She did deserve the truth.

“Well, about Papyrus.” Frisk tilted their head and you got the feeling that they weren’t happy about your hesitation. “His friend that fought me? Undyne? She said something about how he used to have a childhood friend called 'Frisk’. I asked Grillby to explain what the hell was happening since it wasn’t a mere coincidence and he called Sans.”

Frisk looked at Grilbly and he nodded. She frowned. “What is going on?”

The man stared into her eyes. “…”

“Explain.” Frisk’s voice turned hard and you shuddered. She was having none of this nonsense.

Grillby wasn’t intimidated by the harshness of her voice and calmly stared at her with his hand tapping twice on his neck. “…Stand… your ground…”

Huh?

Frisk stiffened, her hands twitching.

You looked at her and then at Grillby. What was going on? Why was this small gesture making Frisk react that way? Did Grillby do anything to her? “Grillby, what are you doing?”

Grillby lowered his hand and Frisk relaxed, then her mouth pulled back in a snarl and her shoulders hunched up. “How do you know that? It’s his code.”

His code?

“…I showed… him…”

Frisk’s eyes widened and she slumped back. “…What?”

Grillby nodded. “…Was his… CO…”

Okay, you had enough.

“Excuse me, may I know what the hell is going on?” You snapped the two startled, as if they had forgotten that you were there. Frisk craned their head to look at you, shiny eyes glowing in the sunset filled diner, then they winched and held their head.

You scowled just as a knock was heard. Grillby quickly stood and rushed to the front door, opening it to reveal Sans and Papyrus standing there, wearing matching blue shirts, only Sans’ had a logo that had an animal skull and glowing light blue eyes while Papyrus was wearing his red scarf.

…Nice style for slob and sunshine. Why did Papyrus even come?

“We came at a bad time, Grillbz?” Sans strolled in with a lop-sided grin, eyeing Frisk and you.

Grillby shook his head.

“Frisk! Good to see you again!” Papyrus exclaimed and rushed to the woman, who flinched at the loud noise and quickly covered her face with her hoodie. The young man stopped on his tracks and knelt before her, eyes wide with worry. “Are you okay?”

Frisk nodded. “Just banged my head…”

“Oh…” He seemed upset at that and you frowned. Papyrus was about to say something when Sans placed a hand on his shoulder, causing the younger brother to look up.

“I would love for you to continue talking, but I didn’t come for chit-chat,” Sans explained and gestured for his brother to sit. Papyrus looked even more worried and picked a chair, sitting next to Frisk.

Grillby went to bring the plate of bread while Sans sat in front of you three and across the table. The slobby man thanked the redhead as the plate was put on the table.

No puns, no jokes… Sans meant business here.

Grillby sat next to Sans and they looked at you. The graying man started first. “So explain for all of us why you wanted to talk to me.”

Frisk grabbed your hand while Papyrus turned to you and you frowned at the attention but nodded, staring at Sans seriously. “You guys were acting weird ever since Frisk and Papyrus met. And then last night I was talking to Undyne, who is Papyrus’ friend apparently, who had heard from him that he once used to have an imaginary friend called 'Frisk’.”

“I did?!” Papyrus exclaimed and the only woman in the group turned to him and he shrunk away slightly. “Well, I did have an imaginary friend. But I never could remember her name. And she vanished when I was very little…”

Frisk patted his arm, her hand in yours slightly trembling. The young man perked up, grinning widely. He then asked his brother what was going on, his grin slightly falling when Sans sighed and slumped in his chair, eyes faraway.

“I will tell you the story of a man.”

What a way to start a story, you thought unhelpfully.

Sans, oblivious to your thoughts, continued. “He was just a normal guy. A very cliché average Joe who loved to play football, liked to flirt with girls and was even popular. A girl, a very pretty and quirky cheerleader, caught his eyes and the two dated and when finished high-school got married. They had a beautiful girl and settled in a suburban area since that’s what they had managed to afford. He got into couching and she got into teaching. They were very happy.”

Your hand was hurting with how hard Frisk was holding it, but you held back your complaints. It wasn’t the time.

“That family was living next to a family of three, a single father and his two sons. The oldest just two years younger than the guy and the youngest the age of the small girl. The families bonded and soon a connection was created between the oldest and the guy and between the two babies. The babies played, laughed and even explored together.”

“Were those babies… us?” Papyrus interrupted, enraptured within the tale. Sans gave a half grimace half smirk and chuckled.

“Now where’s the fun in telling you just yet?”

You raised a brow, you all knew you were talking about Frisk and Papyrus. You looked at said woman and found her looking down, her hair hiding her face. You wanted to see her face but felt that it was best to leave her be. She needed to hear this. Instead you just squeezed her hand back and hoped that she would relax her hold.

“Anyways,” Sans coughed and happily accepted a glass of water from Grillby, which he downed quickly. “Ah, that was good. Now, back to the story… where was I… oh, yeah.

Now three years had gone by and now the babies were four and the guy and the oldest were drafted to a war far, far away. The two, still young and hopeful, became a part of a unit that ventured into the battlefield.

I’ll spare you the details, but a year later, they returned. Different. Worse.

The guy returned to his home, expecting to be greeted with his wife and child, to be welcomed back to normal. To live back as your normal happy Joe.”

But—

“Only to be met with a grave and a crying five years old.

His wife had died from an illness.”

Of course. Of-fucking-course.

Frisk made a small noise that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“The oldest tried to convince him to move to his house, but the guy refused. He had enough.

…

The next day he had vanished. Along with his child.

And I never saw him again.”

Sans took a deep breath, his voice shaky and eyes shiny. “We searched for him… but he was simply gone. As if he had never even existed…”

Grillby placed a hand on his shoulder and Sans gritted his teeth, head lowered. “You know how it felt when I woke up and I saw your face, Frisk?”

Frisk jolted, as if not expecting to be addressed, and shook her head. She was trembling. Her free hand fidgeting with the strings of her hoodie. She was uncomfortable.

You wanted to snap at Sans for lashing at Frisk like that.

But here it was. The past of the woman who had agreed to be your date-mate. A completely normal, happy girl. That had became a woman that was hiding her face and living in the filth of humanity.

And it all happened because of her father surviving a war.

What a fucked up story.

“I thought I was seeing him again,” Sans continued with a chocked voice, like a dam bursting open, “I was so shocked by the water that I didn’t get a chance to see your eyes. But they’re your father’s, Frisk. Just like his. He used to brag how those eyes made him the best in the world. He was so ecstatic when you were born and you had those same eyes. He yelled at me that his daughter is going to be a player just like he was. Your mother approved less of this, sadly, so he had to drop the idea and let you play with the dolls instead.”

Frisk made another small noise.

You decided to interrupt. “How did you know it was Frisk, anyways? She could just seem like him.”

The table was silent, but then Grillby fished his wallet out of his pocket, opening it and taking two folded papers out of it. He unfolded them and sled them towards us. Papyrus picked the one on the left and you took the right with your free hand. Frisk made no move to take any picture.

You stared at the one you took. It was of an army unit, seven men wearing the army uniform with their vests and helmets, small guns raised in salute and painted faces grinning wildly.

You pinpointed a much younger and darker haired Sans standing with a big grin on his face, looking much more carefree and happy then the Sans you were facing now. The younger Sans had his arm around a taller man’s shoulder. The man had dark brown hair and almond shaped eyes that were crinkled in a smile. To your surprise, younger Grillby was standing a bit further, in the middle with the commander stripes on his shoulders, hair flaming as usual and a small smile on his face.

Grillby also knew Frisk’s father… not shocking as you thought it would be since that would explain that strange conversation from before… but more importantly.

You looked at Frisk and took a deep breath, finally placing a hand on her shoulder and shaking it a bit. She raised her head, hooded eyes blank. You sighed and gave her the picture. “I know it’s quite shocking to hear it out of the blue. But it’s your past. I don’t know if you ever wondered about it, but it’s your chance now.”

Frisk gazed at the photo and after a long moment released your numb hand and gently pried it out of your fingers and held it gently as she looked at it, her shaking growing worse. You moved your chair closer to her and extended your hand to Papyrus, who had his tears streaming down his eyes freely as he nodded and passed you the other picture.

It was of the two families. Younger Sans and an older man you didn’t recognize stood next to Frisk’s father and a young woman with curly dark hair, dark skin and a big beautiful smile, her hand holding that of a small toddler in a pink dress with a bun of wild hair and excited golden eyes, her smile matching her mother’s.

A toddler Frisk. Holding another toddler’s hand. He had a shock of black hair and very familiar face features. Papyrus.

You gave her the second picture and she grabbed it, bending over as small sounds escaped her. You rubbed her back, not knowing what to do or say in this situation.

Papyrus looked at his brother and then at Frisk and grinned weakly. “It means that we were fated to be friends, no?”

Frisk gave a small snort, swallowed by a smaller sob. She turned to you, her hand coming to clutch at your shirt and her head was pressed to your chest. You held her, rubbing her back and letting her take it all out.

What do you even say in this kind of a situation? Thank you? Why wait until now to tell Frisk? Why did they give up on searching if Frisk was here the entire time? How was it that they had never found Frisk until now? What now? How do you work at the place owned by your father’s commander? How do you meet up with your… childhood friend? What was the group now?

Sans released a sob, his fingers grasping his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not finding you… for not keeping your father safe…”

Frisk stiffened and slowly withdrew from your hold, turning to look at Sans, raising shaking hands to her hoodie and hesitantly pulling it back, facing the older man with a clear view of her face.

Sans’s red rimmed eyes were wide as she gave a small half smile half grimace, clutching the pictures to her chest.

“Don’t be… thank you…” She replied. “He talked about you at times, Seraphim… he missed you…”

Sans released a deep sigh and slumped, as if he had waited for this for so long. He even had a more peaceful expression now.

“Thank you, Frisk. Thank you so much.”

How do you continue from this?

NEXT